After the long, black cars reached their destinations, those who had attended the Requiem Mass filtered through the other granite markers towards the hole in the ground, towards the next place they would gather.
They walked slowly, hearts heavy with too many emotions to properly identify, disconnected from each other. They had been apart for too long, they didn't know how to integrate themselves anymore, but they were trying; sadness and grief and guilt and regret brought them together for the first time in a long time.
The cars cooled as the priest reached the next destination of the day. Only a handful of people had been wondering how the Catholic funeral had been approved; only three people knew how it had been approved and conducted. Everyone else felt it was a day of ceremony befitting a deserving human being.
There was another handful of people who were the only people to understand what was engraved on her monument. Only a few people remained that had been in the room on that day, to hear those words that were so confusing yet so perfect.
Most of the real family was at the front, seated in chairs. Jed and Abbey Bartlet were also with them, since age prevented them from standing with the others, who made up more of a family than she had ever had.
&&&&
"Are you really that disappointed in me, CJ?" Jed asked, as he stepped into her office and turned his gaze to her large Christmas tree.
She turned, surprised by his sudden appearance. "Excuse me, sir?"
"For not speaking out on... on this thing in Oregon," he said, mumbling slightly.
CJ blinked. "This 'thing' in Oregon?" she echoed, telling him how offended she was by that without saying those actual words.
He sighed and put his hands in his pockets as he took a seat on her sofa. "I didn't mean it like that," he confessed, moving his hands to his knees where he rubbed them nervously.
Jed never liked it when CJ was angry with or disappointed in him. Her eyes cut into his heart and soul, and made everything ache.
"I know, sir," she said quietly, letting him off of the hook. She turned and sat down next to him. Then, she sighed before admitting: "I get emotional over events like... like Oregon."
He nodded. "Me, too."
CJ looked at him. "How do you... I mean... do you know... what... what you'll do if---"
"Nothing in my night stand, CJ," he said in a solemn voice.
She looked down at her hands, fiddled with a hangnail, and then sighed.
Jed turned and focused his gaze on her tree. "Has your father... made arrangements?"
"No," she whispered, sounding like a little girl lost instead of the Press Secretary extraordinaire she was.
"Ah."
"I'm afraid," she admitted in that same soft voice.
He returned his gaze to her, while putting his hand on her arm. "Of what, Claudia Jean?"
She pressed her lips together and thought for a moment. She looked away from him as she spoke. "I'm afraid of making that decision for myself," she replied, "Of not being able to make the decision until it's too late."
"Oh, CJ," he murmured, "you can't think... you don't know if it will happen to you."
She put her hand over his and squeezed it gently. Then, she sucked in a sharp breath and stiffened her spine.
"It probably will," she said in a glib tone of voice. "At least it hasn't happened yet, sir."
&&&&
Jed moved his hand---the hand he still had marginal control over---from the arm of his wheelchair and put it over his wife's hand. She turned her head and gave him a sad smile as she squeezed his hand and threaded her fingers through his.
&&&&
"Nice speech," the tall woman murmured as she met Abbey in her hotel suite. "I'm sure the President would have loved it."
After they kissed each other's cheeks, Abbey stepped back and grinned. "I read it for him last night," she admitted, "and he was a big fan."
"Oh, good... how is he?"
"The same as always."
CJ arched an eyebrow. "Really?"
Abbey nodded. "Really."
Under the younger woman's scrutinising eyes, she eventually crumbled. She frowned and sighed and then offered CJ a seat as she took one herself.
"Not so well?" CJ ventured into the silence.
"He's in a wheelchair pretty much full time now," Abbey admitted. "But, he can still use his arms and hands... so I guess that's something."
CJ smiled a bit and nodded. "It is," she murmured. She reached over the arm of her chair to Abbey's and squeezed her hand. "How are you holding up?"
"It's so hard," Abbey admitted. "I love him... I hate seeing this happen to him."
CJ's expression darkened for a moment and then she nodded. She slipped her fingers between Abbey's fingers and brushed her thumb over the back of Abbey's hand.
"Is there anything I can do?" CJ asked.
"Cure the disease?"
Both women laughed and then the conversation turned to other things. CJ opened the bottle of wine she brought with her; they toasted to many things; they had more than they should to drink. They talked about Danny and Tommy, who had turned four a few weeks ago, about Toby's latest book, about Santos' reelection, and about Josh's receding hairline.
"I miss being held," Abbey admitted quietly when they had exhausted all other possible topics. "I miss dancing."
CJ smiled, nodding in understanding.
They sipped their wine in silence.
After ten very quiet minutes, CJ cleared her throat and looked at Abbey. "Want to dance? I'll let you lead..."
The older woman laughed. "You can lead," she murmured.
They danced, without music and without talking, and then dancing turned into kissing. Kissing turned into moving towards the bed, and that turned into something entirely different.
"We haven't done that in a long time," Abbey whispered hoarsely after CJ kissed her way up Abbey's body and snuggled up alongside the other woman.
"Regrets?"
"No... none," the older woman replied. She smiled and reached out to brush her fingers over CJ's temple.
&&&&
Behind Jed and Abbey, Ellie Bartlet stood. She kept her hands on the handles of her father's wheelchair; every time she tried to move them away they trembled the same way her lower lip did when her teeth released it.
Her grief had surprised her. She hadn't been particularly close to the deceased; she rarely stayed at the White House and mingled with her father's staff. Zoey had been that daughter; Elizabeth had been that daughter; Ellie had not. But, they weren't there.
Part of Ellie was furious with them. They were closer to the staff, to their parents; and yet, they were nowhere to be found.
The rest of Ellie was sad. When she heard the news, from her mother, she brushed it off and asked how her father was doing. That night, she woke up in the middle of the night. She walked around the house, checking on her daughter, getting some tea, before settling down in the living room.
The grief found her there. The next morning, she made plans to go back to New Hampshire to see her parents, to travel with them to the funeral.
&&&&
Ellie twisted her hands as she looked at the blank screen of CJ's laptop.
"I don't know what I want to say."
The older woman smiled. "Really?"
Ellie rolled her eyes and huffed. "Okay, I know what I want to say... but I don't... I'm not a writer."
"You'll figure it out," CJ assured the blonde. "Close your eyes... take a deep breath... and then write."
"Just like that?" Ellie asked skeptically.
CJ laughed and nodded. "Yes... just like that."
While she thought the Press Secretary was crazy, she closed her eyes and thought about everything she wanted to say. She thought about the spiteful congressmen and congresswomen that had targeted her research and her father and everyone in the West Wing; she pushed aside the angry words and thought about what her real argument was.
And then she wrote.
When it was finished, Ellie printed it off and passed it to CJ.
"Want me to get Toby to look at it?"
"I trust your judgment," Ellie said quietly, her cheeks warming.
CJ nodded, smiled, and read over what Ellie had written. The silence had been nerve-wracking, filling her blonde head with negative thoughts and doubts and everything in between.
"Nice," CJ praised her.
Ellie blushed more and then blurted out, "How did you know you wanted to work with the press?"
The tall woman's smile turned into a grin. "I didn't," she replied. "I wanted to make a difference... I was afraid of public speaking when I was in university."
Ellie felt her jaw drop. CJ laughed.
"A professor in my sophomore year set me down and told me that as long as I had valid things to say... as long as I believed in what I was saying, I shouldn't have to worry about what anyone thinks of me. As long as I was saying something important, they wouldn't look at me. They would be listening to my words." CJ paused and shrugged. "And after that... things got easier."
"Just like that?"
CJ nodded. "Just like that."
&&&&
Behind the young blonde, two men stood with their hands folded and their eyes downcast. John was standing in the third row because he wasn't welcome in the second row; Sam was standing with him because didn't believe that anyone should have to stand alone, because his relationship with the former Vice President was better than the relationships the others had with John.
John's appearance at the funeral had been a surprise to almost everyone. But, Toby had called to tell him the bad news, so John had traveled across the country to grieve with everyone else.
&&&&
CJ groaned and tugged the sheet over her body.
"Stop looking at me like that," she scolded as John smirked.
"Like what?"
"Like you're thinking about a repeat performance," she murmured, reaching out and brushing her fingers over his chest. John opened his mouth to speak, but she brought her fingers up to his lips and spoke before he could. "Don't deny it, Senator."
"I thought I told you to call me John," he whispered, before slowly drawing one of her fingers into his mouth.
She shivered and released the sheet as he teased her.
"I should hate you for this, John," she whimpered.
"But you don't," he whispered after he released her finger and inched closer to her.
"God, no," she breathed, tugging him in for a kiss. "I don't want to give this up yet."
"I'll be in L.A. again in a few weeks," he whispered after a kiss, after bringing his lips to her ear. "If you want to see me again..."
"Why do you think I want to see you again?"
John lifted his head and looked at her. They both laughed. CJ looked at him with a sheepish expression on her face.
"Okay, stupid question." She paused and then asked, "Why do you want to see me again?"
He smiled. After kissing along her jaw, he looked at her again. "I like the way you make me feel," he admitted. "You make me feel like a better man."
CJ smiled back at him as she leaned in to steal another kiss.
&&&&
The blue eyed man, tanned from his days on his ranch in Texas, cleared his throat discretely. He tried to dislodge the lump that had taken up residence there since he arrived at the church, but found it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
The man standing beside him, pale from his days at the White House, looked at him for a moment and then forced his gaze on the coffin. He couldn't believe what had happened; when he heard the truth, as only a few people did, he didn't know how he should respond.
The priest continued to read the traditional Bible passages. Sam wasn't listening, nor was he responding when audience response was required. He stared off into space and remembered.
&&&&
CJ took the bottle of scotch from Toby's hand and refilled Sam's glass. She sighed and leaned back on the sofa after topping up her own glass.
"Do you think we'll always be so unlucky in love?" she asked quietly.
Sam smiled sadly at her question. They had all been dumped within the same week; once they were finished with their work on Saturday, they congregated at CJ's to drink until their heartache was thoroughly drowned in friendship and good alcohol.
"I don't know," he murmured, putting his arm around her shoulders.
He looked at Toby and wanted to ask other questions, but decided those would be asked once CJ fell asleep.
CJ sighed and snuggled up to his body, so warm, and she kissed his cheek.
"Promise me something, Sam?"
"Sure."
"You, too, Toby."
The bearded man grunted his approval.
When ten minutes---or what seemed like ten minutes---passed, and CJ still hadn't said anything else.
"CJ?"
"Hmm?" she hummed, craning her neck to look at Sam.
"What were you gonna say?"
She laughed, the sound deep and vibrating through her body and into Sam's, and set her drink down so she could take Toby's hand in hers while still hugging Sam.
"Promise me we'll always be friends," she murmured. "Even when we all go our separate directions and leave this place... even if all we do is send each other e-mails every other week." She paused and then added, "Even if we have a big fight. We can't let it break us up. Okay? Promise?"
Both men agreed. It was hard to say no to CJ.
&&&&
In front of Sam, who was wiping his cheeks dry as he thought about broken promises, next to Ellie, was Charlie Young.
He knew loss too well, but it never made experiencing it any easier. His responses to the prayers were quiet, his voice thick with emotion. He wasn't just losing a boss-turned-colleague, he was losing a mentor and a friend.
&&&&
"You're quitting?" Charlie asked, eyes wide. "But... but we built this organisation together---"
"I'm not quitting," CJ interjected as she went through the drawers and shelves in her spacious office, taking a few things from each place and putting them in her briefcase. "I'm simply taking a leave of absence."
He frowned. She hadn't been herself for a while. She smiled and brushed off her weird behavior and actions as the products of sleeplessness, but he was beginning to believe that she had lied to him.
"When will you be back?"
She smiled at him. "When I'm tan and well-rested."
"Is Danny going with you?"
CJ shook her head. "Danny is moving back to D.C."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"What about Tommy?"
CJ's smile faded away. "I think... he'll be going to D.C. with Danny. For a while, anyway. He's young... he'll start school in the fall. It'll be okay."
"You wanna go get drunk?"
The tall woman chuckled. "I wanna go home, Charlie."
"When will you be back?"
"I'll call ahead and let you know," she answered cryptically.
"CJ... c'mon."
She smiled, but the smile never reached her eyes. "I just need a break," she said quietly. "You'll be able to run this place without me. You don't need me to run it."
"But, I want you here. That's why I came to you with this... this idea. This place."
"I'm not leaving the country," CJ assured him. "I'll be back."
&&&&
Charlie turned his head when he felt Josh's hand on his shoulder. He gave the older man a small, sad smile and then he returned his focus back to the ceremony in front of him.
Josh's hair had receded even more, but lucky for him, Donna didn't seem to mind the increasing baldness. He held onto her hand as if it were a lifeline, pulling him up out of the heavy feelings he was experiencing.
So many years had passed, and he hadn't lost anyone else that was important to him. He thought he was okay, that he wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night with that panicked feeling that he had lost someone else; but then Charlie called him after a few years, and everything had changed again.
In hindsight, he knew there had been a problem. The last time he saw CJ---on a campaign stop in California---she hadn't acted like herself. But, he chalked it up to time and space and losing a husband and not seeing her son enough.
If only he had known, he thought quietly as he listened to the priest.
&&&&
"Claudia Jean!" Josh exclaimed as he bounced up the steps of her Santa Monica home. She was sitting on the porch, reading a book and he was offended by that. "You canceled our breakfast!"
She looked up, her glasses on the end of her nose. "I... I couldn't ge---I didn't want to get out of bed, Joshua," she said quietly, setting the book down. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he assured her as he walked over and kissed the top of her head before sitting down. "What's up?"
"I've got a good book and some iced tea," she murmured with a smile. "What's up with you?"
He grinned and ruffled his out of control hair. "Donna's pregnant... we're kicking ass in this election."
"Congratulations," she murmured. "To... to both."
"Thanks."
He paused and looked down at his hands. When he looked back up at her, he had a million questions on his tongue: why did she take a leave of absence from work? why did she kick Danny out of her life? why did she insist that he take their son? why did she stop talking to Sam and Toby? why did she refuse the last few visits to the Manchester farm? why did she cancel their breakfast meeting?
"Are you okay?" he asked, his brow furrowing as his eyebrows jumped up in concern.
She swallowed hard and then nodded. "I'm fine, Josh. Really."
"But---"
"Pl-please don't ask about Danny and Tommy."
He sighed. "Don't you miss them?"
"A... a lot," she admitted. "But some things aren't meant to be."
&&&&
Josh sighed and looked out over the cemetery. He hated to think of his friend resting in a place so... bland. While her monument was tasteful and funny for those who had been on the inside of that personal joke, he didn't think it did such a vibrant person justice.
A dark figure caught his attention, took his focus from the priest's words.
Danny was leaning against a nearby monument, away from the ceremony and its observers, dressed in dark colours like the rest of them. He looked older, worn ragged by what Josh guessed was years of not knowing what was happening to the love of his life.
It hadn't been easy for the redhead to make an appearance. He had hid in the back of the church for the mass, and left before the procession, silently praying for the soul of his wife.
He knew she didn't want him in her life, but this was her death and he didn't care what she'd want. No one else knew what roses she loved more than any others, and he wanted to place one on her coffin before it disappeared from sight.
He wanted to forgive her, even though she couldn't hear the words, and he wanted to be forgiven, even though she couldn't give him those words.
&&&&
"Are you serious?" Danny asked, watching as his wife packed their son's possessions in oversized suitcases that she had purchased that day on her way home from the hospital.
She didn't say anything. She didn't even look at him.
"You're serious?!" he hollered.
CJ nodded. "You better get packing," she said softly.
"You're not coming with me?!"
She stopped and looked at him. "I'm going to stay here... where it's sunny and warm... where national politics won't take over my life."
"CJ... c'mon," Danny said quietly. "Don't do this."
"Do what? Stay here?"
"Don't run away from me," he pleaded. "I don't want you to be alone."
"You can't be the editor of the Washington Post while taking care of your disabled wife," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "And I don't want you to resent me."
Danny waved his hands around as he struggled to find better words.
They didn't come to him.
"I won't!" he exclaimed. "God, CJ... did you ever think for a minute I'd desert you when you need me?!"
"You want to stick around, helping me take bottles of pills... waiting for me to walk across the room... waiting to pick me up when I drop to my knees or fall off of a chair or---"
"What about the DBS?" he interrupted. "The doctor said we could try---"
"I could try," she cut in. "Not we. There's no 'we' here, Danny. You wouldn't get an electrode implanted into your brain."
"There's been a 'we' here since we exchanged vows and rings, CJ!" he shot back. "Or did you forget that whole day, with the dress and the flowers and guests and cake?"
CJ glared at him. "I don't have my father's disease," she hissed. "Of course I remember."
&&&&
Danny swallowed a lump in his throat as he thought about the fight and the silence and CJ staying in a hotel until Danny's and Tommy's flight to Washington.
He looked at the group of people mourning his wife's death and let his eyes linger on Toby's form. He thought about the angry messages the dark and gloomy man left on his voicemail when he learned the truth. He sighed and closed his eyes.
That dark and gloomy man saw Danny's figure slump over and he turned his gaze back to the priest.
He didn't like Danny anymore. He let his wife push him away when she needed him the most. It was difficult for him to be angry with Danny, because he knew that if Danny had been there, Toby wouldn't have been there. But, he couldn't deny that Danny's return to D.C., with his son but without his wife, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Toby, who had attended the Vigil for both of its two days, stood in the back, next to Josh. He wasn't ready to sit yet. Andrea, who he hadn't spoken to since they divorced the second time, stood next to him. Huck and Molly, who didn't really know who they were supposed to be grieving for but understood they were there more for their father than anyone else, stood beside her.
He had been the first to know, after Danny, the one chosen to tell the others.
&&&&
He had been researching a new book, escaping his second divorce, when she called him and requested that he visit. They hadn't spoken in a year, since before Danny left and returned to Washington. Hearing her voice caused a chill to run up his spine.
Normally, he would have balked at traveling to one of the sunniest states in the country, but there had been a different tone in her voice; he accepted her offer of her guest bedroom, and booked a flight after hanging up the phone.
He picked up chinese take out on his way from the airport to CJ's home and noticed that when they sat down to eat it, she opted for a fork instead of the chopsticks she preferred to use.
"Have you heard from Tommy?"
CJ shook her head jerkily. "N-no," she whispered.
"Why not?"
"Toby..."
"No, why not?" he pushed.
CJ pushed away from the table and went to the fridge to get a bottle of water. On her way back, she stumbled and then stopped moving; she wavered and clenched her free hand into a fist, but she didn't take another step.
"CJ?"
"Give me a minute, Toby," she muttered, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
"What---"
CJ sighed and then snapped. "Just give me a minute!"
He nodded and folded his hands, watching her. Something was wrong. By the time she returned to the table, he almost had tears in his eyes.
"Are you dying?"
Her laugh was tight and bitter. "I just wish I was," she replied quietly when the laughter stopped abruptly.
"MS?"
"Wouldn't that be fitting," she mused, reaching out and touching his hand. "We could've claimed it was contagious."
He cleared his throat. "It's... it's a nervous system thing, though, right?"
She nodded.
The room became so silent that the sound of the ticking clock on the wall pounded in his ears.
"Parkinson's," she whispered.
Toby sighed and turned his hand over, catching hers in its palm. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to it.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Couldn't," she replied quietly. "Didn't know how."
"What do you need?"
Her lower lip trembled and she looked away. "I... I would really like you to tell... to tell..." she trailed off and two tears escaped her shining eyes, to travel down her cheeks. He reached out and wiped them before they reached her jaw.
"The rest of us?" he finished for her.
She nodded. "Pl-please," she whispered.
"Yeah," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion.
&&&&
He had been there, the one to try to change the inevitable.
He had visited her as often as possible. Since he was writing a book, he could travel anywhere---almost whenever he wanted. He told his editor that he found the warmer air to be some sort of inspiration; his editor didn't seem to care much, as long as Toby kept turning in more chapters.
She appreciated him being there, but he knew she wasn't the woman he had cherished for almost half of his life.
On his last visit, he asked, "What can I do for you?"
She had been staring up at the stars when he asked that question; she turned and looked at him.
"I... I miss..."
"CJ?"
She trailed off and shook her head. "Never mind, Toby."
He watched her cheeks as they flushed---noticeable even in the dim light from the inside of her house---and he caught on. He twitched his beard and stood up.
"Toby? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have---"
He offered her his hands. "C'mon," he insisted. "Let's go to bed."
They had only tumbled into bed together a few times---once in New York, when they first met, once on the first Bartlet for America campaign, and once when Andy filed for divorce, the first time---but Toby knew this time would be more important than the others.
"Toby..."
"You were going to tell me something like you miss being close to someone, right?" he asked as he guided her back into the house.
She blushed and closed her eyes. "Yeah," she whispered.
"Let me help you feel better," he said.
She walked with him to the bedroom. The room used to be an office, but when CJ started having problems with the stairs, she hired movers to come in and take the furniture from the master bedroom into the office, and to take the desks and bookshelves out into the den on the other side of the kitchen.
Toby dimmed the lights, and slowly undressed her. He paid attention to all of the soft spots he knew would unspool her, before getting close to taking care of his own needs. He burned every touch, taste, scent, and sound to his memory, silently promising to himself that he would cherish her forever, because she deserved to be remembered that way.
Afterwards, he held her from behind and listened to her trying not to cry.
"It's gonna be okay," he promised.
"You're an awful liar."
He chuckled and kissed her bare shoulder. "Sorry," he whispered.
"I don't..." She fell silent. Toby waited for her to finish her thought. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."
He sighed and tucked his face into her hair. "CJ..."
"Toby, this isn't---" she paused and Toby heard her breathing hitch "---happening to you."
"I know," he whispered, "but... you can still walk and talk and---"
"I spent two hours in the bathroom three days ago because I couldn't move," she told him. "My hands shake all the time. I can't cook anymore." She paused and then laughed. "Not that I'm good at that anyway. But the last time I tried to cook, I almost cut my finger off. I can't... I can't read books anymore because I get motion sickness---"
"Then, let me cook or order take out... let me read to you," he interrupted.
CJ sniffled. "It's not fair to you... to stay here and watch me... wither away."
"I don't care."
"I do."
He tightened his hold on her. "What are you planning, CJ?"
"Nothing," she lied.
Toby sighed and desperately wished for a pen and paper. He wished he could write down how he felt about her; he wished he could change her mind. He could never properly vocalise how he felt.
"You're my CJ," he whispered, feeling exposed and unsure.
"You're my Toby," she whispered back.
She fell asleep shortly after that exchange. He tried to stay awake; he had wanted to watch her sleep, because he wondered if she'd look happier when she wasn't shaking or stuck or hating the world and everything that had happened to her.
But, he fell asleep after a couple of hours.
And when he woke up, his CJ wasn't there anymore. He called the paramedics even though the body was cool to his touch; he saw the expressions on their faces and he tried to explain.
"I wasn't ready," he mumbled as he watched them take the body away.
&&&&
Toby closed his eyes and listened to the final words of the priest---and of President Bartlet. The priest spoke in English and Jed whispered in Latin, adding an eery feel to the end of the ceremony.
He listened to the Latin, feeling that it was fitting, given the words on her monument.
When the ceremony was over, they left roses and walked back to the cars. There had been money set aside for a party. She had planned a party, a place where old friends could reconnect and drink to her memory. When they had been told about the after-burial plans, no one had been really receptive; however, as they walked back to the cars, brief conversations could be heard. People were planning to go to the bar that had been reserved for the event.
Sam and John caught up to Toby.
"Toby?"
"Sam."
"You... you going to the thing?"
He shrugged. "Guess so," he mumbled. "You?"
"Yeah."
"John?"
"I... I don't know if I should---"
Toby looked up at the former Vice President. He was on the outside, too. He didn't feel like leaving anyone else behind. "You should," he insisted.
Sam smiled and put his hand on Toby's shoulder.
Donna and Josh were waiting for them, Andy and Molly and Huck nearby.
"Are we going to the thing?" Donna asked.
Sam nodded.
"Good," Josh murmured. "I'll be right back. I'm just going to tell the President---"
Toby tuned him out. He looked at Sam and wondered if he had thought about the promise they had made, the promise they had broken. He wondered if they would be able to fix the mistakes they made.
Later that day, they had grouped together, away from the Cregg family. Drinking and sharing memories of better days, when smiles and movements came easier to them.
The President brought up the time when they all threatened to quit on her, when she was promoted. Toby laughed until he cried. Sam offered him a tissue and Josh put his hand on Toby's shoulder before squeezing it gently.
They laughed and cried together until the open bar had dried up.
And then a few of them lingered, long into the night, as if they had been always been spending time together, as if their friendships had never been interrupted.
