Author: Regency

Title: 'So Called Redemption' by Toby Ziegler

Rating: PG for now.

Pairing: Whomever I decide to stick together, but maybe some Jed/Abbey

Spoilers/Season: Five for later mentions of Abbey's medication and Zoey's whatever. No Exit

Summary: And idly, Toby wonders if the guests in the ballroom can feel the change, can feel the course of history shifting around them. Do they hear the saga being written twenty years in the future about this, about this night and all those that will follow? Do they hear the words, the wonder, the awe? Do they hear?

Disclaimer: They all belong to Aaron Sorkin, who abandoned them, and unless otherwise specified, I own no one here.

Author's Notes: This is just my take on what could happen. It ain't nuthin', but a family thing.

~~~~~

A Moment on The Dais

"Sir, I need to talk to you." Toby stands there, staring at him as though he were some type of confounded thing. He won't meet his eyes and he keeps looking around, as though he's afraid someone will hear. The only people Jed can see are the Secret Service Agents standing sentry in the hall. But still, he looks around. This feels like it's going to be the setting of another one of those personal 'conversations' he and Toby are in the habit of getting into.

"Okay." He stands with his back to the railing, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets; an almost perfect mirror to Toby's stance by the doors leading to the dais. Toby looks around again, nervously almost.

"Here?"

"Is there a better place to have it?"

"Not here, maybe?" There's a crack of Toby's wit and that seems to lighten the moment. It seems to, anyway. Soon that fades into the darkness that lies just beyond the dim radiance of the torches lit on the stone walls.

"What is it, Toby? Maybe you haven't noticed, but there is a party happening and I'm pretty sure that at some point one or both of us will be missed."

"I noticed the party, sir. I also noted that you have been conspicuously absent for much of it."

"I wouldn't call it conspicuous."

"You may not, but several other people would, are, and have been since you disappeared during dinner earlier this evening."

"Okay." Toby rubs his head in an almost passive frustration.

"Okay. Okay? What's okay?"

"Okay. Just okay." The President just looks at him and waits for whatever comes next.

"Well, this has been a constructive conversation, so far, Mr. President."

"I know, the last time I checked I was supposedly a part of it."

"Really, sir, because I've seen no active participation on your part." The President stands erect in mock indignation.

"Toby, is it possible that you're calling me a lazy conversationalist?"

"Of course not, sir. That would infer some kind of disrespect on my part and that's -- that's not why I'm here." Jed heaves a silent sigh and Toby takes a fortifying breath. What he's about to confront this man with…This man that he respects, idolizes, and lo--has great affection for, could change the course of history. It will definitely change their relationship forever and he wonders if this is the right time for this.

"Then, why are you out here, Toby? What do you need to talk to me about?" He has his guard up and the air begins to hum with tension. The barely perceptible agents in the area stand even more at attention, too feeling the pressure of the moment. And idly, Toby wonders if the guests in the ballroom can feel the change, can feel the course of history shifting around them. Do they hear the saga being written twenty years in the future about this, about this night and all those that will follow? Do they hear the words, the wonder, the awe? Do they hear? Or are they as oblivious as he almost wishes he was? The President shifts on his feet. "What is it you wanted to talk about? You've got my attention."

"I wanted to talk to you about -- about something I saw." This is a strange beginning for any conversation and Toby sees his leader's forehead furrow in confusion. Maybe he should be more clear. "Sir--" Before he can begin and agent leans out past him to speak to the President.

"Mr. President, the First Lady's calling for you to open the dance floor with her. Her exact message was: The people want to dance, Jed. If you'll forgive address, sir." The President nods absently.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. Tell the First Lady that I'll be there in a moment." The agent nods and finally noticing Toby, gives him a wary glance. They always do that when the two of them are alone together. It rarely ends well for anyone. With a firm look to Toby, he leaves. This is just the out Toby's been looking for. If he believed in fate, that's what he'd think it was. But he doesn't, so to him it's just dumb luck. And tonight, he's damned grateful for it.

"Sir, this can wait. You probably shouldn't make the First Lady wait. We both know how much she hates that." He nods, but he's looking at Toby like he's not sure he should go. As though it were a matter of should and shouldn't.

"Yeah, she does hate that." He sighs to himself. "It seems she hates a lot of things to do with me, these days." Toby swallows and looks away, because he doesn’t want this man to know that he shows in moment like this. He shows.

"What was that, Mr. President?" he asks to make him realize that he's speaking loud enough to be heard. Brown eyes meet blue and they both know that this conversation isn't over. It's not even begun.

Nothing. Are you sure it can wait?" Toby nods, but questions whether the President wants to be out here more than he wants to be in there.

"It can wait…a little while." As the President passes, Toby speaks to himself. "But not too long." As he watches him walk back to the ballroom, he can't help thinking that it might already be too late. "God, not too long."

~~~~

Sorry, it's short. Review.

Completed: July 11, 2004

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