Notes: Belong belongs to Remy Zero.
_____________________
Remember how it was
When we belonged together
They thought we were crazy
But we were so strong together
In this world you gave me
I thought we�d go on forever...
It was the second time in one day that he had been in a bar, and he wondered vaguely if it was a problem that it wasn�t unusual.
The first time he had come, earlier today, it had been to steel himself for what was coming. This time it was for the same reason, on a much larger scale.
The campaign was suddenly resting in his hands, and he was starting to wonder if Leo McGarry was losing his mind. Neither of those things was particularly reassuring, so he had escaped the makeshift headquarters that had virtually become his home recently, and he had come back here, trying to ignore the part of his mind that informed him that he would find no answers in the bottom of a glass.
�So, you�re back. You got fired,� the bartender remarked as he refilled the glass, and it wasn�t a question, just an observation.
�Actually, I didn�t,� he replied. �And I�m starting to think that things would be better if I had.� He hadn�t meant to say that part out loud, but there it was, and he was too tired to explain.
He considered calling her, and had almost stood when he remembered that she had made him promise that the next time he called he would be sober, and he was quite sure that he was the opposite of that at the moment, so he didn�t get up. It was probably for the best, because they hadn�t talked in months, not since he left for New Hampshire, and too much had happened in those months to try to fit it all into a drunken phone call.
She had called him first, not long after the fundraiser, to apologize. He hadn�t blamed her for what had happened that night, not at all, so her apologies were unwanted and unnecessary, but they had led to more general conversation, and when he hung up he felt that perhaps finally, after all these years, the thing that lay between them could rightly be called friendship.
The calls had continued, and he wondered occasionally why he never told Andi about them, if they were nothing more than two old friends catching up, but he didn�t want to examine it too closely, because the answers frightened him. Then he had found the real thing, or as close to it as he was ever going to get, and he relocated to New Hampshire, leaving Andi with a campaign to run and the lingering promise that he would be home in a few months with a new job in the White House. She didn�t bring up his streak with campaigns, and he was glad, because he didn�t need the reminder. Instead she dropped him at the airport with a kiss and a whispered �love you,� and he returned both, because he did love her, in the parts of his heart that hadn�t been shattered into a million pieces.
And now everyone on the campaign but him had been fired, and he was beginning to wonder why he had ever thought that this would be the candidate to break his streak.
The guy next to him was talking, and it took him a moment to realize that the conversation was being directed at him. It was easy enough to ignore him blathering on about the campaign, so he did that for a while, but then a question caught his ear and he turned.
�He�s the real thing, isn�t he?�
A faint smile ghosted across his face, and after a brief pause he nodded. �I think we may have found a good man in politics after all,� he said, deciding to be social, and he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him at the words.
The guy grinned. �Who would have thought.� He stuck a hand out and introduced himself. �Josh Lyman.�
�You work for Hoynes.� It wasn�t an accusation, but it was almost there.
�Not anymore, I don�t,� was the reply. �I�m catching a plane to New York, picking up a friend, and heading right back up here.� He shrugged. �It�s not every day you find a guy like this one, and I have no intentions of helping his opponent get into the White House.�
He nodded vaguely, but he had stopped listening. He wondered suddenly why he had never considered going to get her, bringing her back to get involved in this race that was going to change their country for the better. She was unhappy in her work, he knew that from their conversations, and he knew that she could be and should be doing something more. This man Josh knew that he could convince his friend to join the campaign just by showing him his conviction, and he wondered why he had never done the same with her.
He stood abruptly, and Josh stopped midsentence to glance up at him in mild alarm. �Good luck in New York,� he said by way of farewell, and made his way to the door, already fishing in his pocket for his phone to call a cab.
Two hours later he sat staring out the tiny airplane window at the city lights sailing by below, and he wondered if he was making a mistake. But the time to change his mind had passed, and he was going to go through with it now. The worst she could say, he reasoned with himself, was no, and that was unlikely to happen.
He had wondered, all those years ago, how she could possibly be so impulsive, to cross the country with a couple of suitcases and an address in her pocket. He had envied her that freedom, and still did. He had never been someone who did things without planning, without first weighing the consequences of his actions. This, he was sure, was the most impulsive decision he had ever made, and yet it seemed as natural to him as breathing. There was no indecision in his mind as he watched the country pass him by below, and he wondered how that could be, how he could possibly commit himself to such an absurd mission without the slightest hint of question.
Andi crossed his mind, just once during the flight, but he pushed the thought away because she had nothing to do with this. This was professional, not personal, and he was doing it for the good of his candidate, not for himself.
He wondered how long that deception would hold up.
The plane landed in LA just after sunset, and he caught a cab in the fading light, noticing for the first time that he had not thought to bring luggage, had nothing with him but the clothes he was wearing and his wallet. It seemed fitting, somehow, to show up at her doorstep with nothing, but a wave of exhaustion hit him then, and he found that he couldn�t face her, not tonight. So he booked himself a hotel room and collapsed on the bed, trying not to think about what he was going to do in the morning, trying not to think at all as he drifted off to sleep.
She was out the next afternoon when he arrived at her house, and he let himself onto her back porch because that was how they were, perfectly comfortable with invading each other�s space.
When she arrived home and he saw her walking towards him, he was struck once again by her beauty, and he discovered that he had indeed made a mistake, but by then it was a mistake he had made hundreds of times before, and it was too late to change it.
Part Seven: Over the Rails and Hollywood High