Summary: She seemed happy for him.
Author's notes: So Debate Camp has me, more than anything, experimenting with style. This is the first story that came out of that, a post ep, and, to my friends, "the evil tenses story". You'll soon find out why. Anyway, a million thanks to MelWil for the beta. I love ya, girl. And to Priya, who walked on AIM right when I was about to not post it, and sat with me for two hours to fix the beginning.
And for Teanna and Luna. Because I said so.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the madness
Delayed Reaction
White Star 2
She smiles, then, and avoids his eyes which are searching for hers. The light is bright and she tries to turn her thoughts to why she hates the outdoors. She thinks of subjects she could steer the conversation toward. She doesn't want to talk about this.
He dangled his feet under the table, nudged closer to its edge. She was still looking at him with a sense of wonder in her eyes. She was still smiling. It made him want to smile too. He drummed his fingers on the desk, looked down at her, still in the moderator chair. "CJ..." He trailed off, left it hanging.
She doesn't want to say more than she already has. Because there's still fourteen hours to spend in North Carolina, still debate prep to be done. She won't let this get in the way of work. She says, "I should get back, they want to start the first dress rehearsal. I need to be there."
"I don't want to go," he said, and added, "It's a stupid idea." She laughed and he had to find it all at least a little amusing, the reactions, the looks, even the Team Toby meeting. Her happiness had always been contagious.
She turns back to face him, frees her arm from his grasp. Tries to pretend she isn't startled. Tries to pretend she's avoiding the discussion and not him. "Everyone's expecting us."
He looked down at his hand, gripping the edge of the desk. "I don't care," he said. She brushed her hair out of her face. He hadn't asked them to intervene, and he knew she didn't care, that she'd do it anyway. "But before you go," he started, stopped, tried to start again. The words refused to come out.
"What?" she says and she's growing impatient. She's never liked it when he got pushy. He looks down at the dirt path. "I'm listening," she says and it comes out too harsh. She isn't out to give him grief.
He raised his eyes to her. "I want you to be with me." More than anyone else's, he needed her approval. He needed her.
"And you have my support." She tries at least to motion him toward the cabins, back to where everyone is waiting. She fails. "I said so last night." She adds nothing about lying awake half the night. She really does want to be there for him.
"It matters a lot to me," he said. He didn't want to elaborate. Didn't want to tell her how afraid he was he'd lose her over this. And even though her tone was reassuring, he was still afraid. His fears never went away easily.
She turns away from him again. "It's just something that's going to take some getting used to." She feels the air fill up with his silent protest. And she's just a little angry with herself for lying, but it's easier than saying she's had a change of heart.
"Because I'm committed to this," he said. It felt good to have someone to talk to, someone who wasn't Andi. It felt good to get it off his chest. And, just for an instant, there was something else behind her smile.
She's put quite a distance between them already, but she takes another step. "I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm sorry." She looks away, and part of it is anger. Some of it is shame.
"I'm sorry," he said, out of nowhere. He didn't know what about. About not saying anything, maybe. About all the grief that was to come. She looked at him with eyes that knew and understood and forgave.
"Yeah," she breathes out as he closes the gap between them, one slow step after another. "This is between the two of you. I don't want to be involved in that right now."
He seriously considered throttling whoever had come up with "Team Toby" with his bare hands. Partially because of the nuisance it would probably turn into soon, but right now because she was going to get up and leave him there. She laughed again when he said, "Who gives a damn about it?" She raised her hand, waved it in front of his face a little. Still, he didn't believe it was real conviction. He didn't want her to know he thought so.
"Everyone," she says. And maybe that'll do something because she knows he understands how difficult it is to keep up these pretenses in front of the whole group. In front of their friends.
"They want to help and I appreciate that, but it's a bad idea." He paced back and forth along the edge of the stage as she leaned on the table where he'd been sitting. "And it doesn't matter right now."
She recoils from his touch, shrugs almost reflexively and he withdraws his hand from her shoulder. "What does, then?"
"That we're still friends." He fumbled, bounced on his heels a few times. He kept thinking that everything would be different once the surprise wore off - he could vouch for that effect himself. "That we're still..." The look on her face made him lose his words.
She snorts, and the irony doesn't slip by her. Twelve hours ago she would've reassured him with a smile. Time only made it worse. "Is that all?" she asks dryly.
He stopped pacing in front of her. She smiled and there was a twinkle in her eyes. And that was reassurance enough. She took his hand in hers, and he found himself smiling, too.
She looks at him and chokes on anything she's had to say to him, everything she's rehearsed in her mind all morning. Instead she turns around and walks away.