This story is a post-ep for "Election Night." It loosely follows last
week's post-ep for "Game On," so you might want to read that one first
("Game On, Boyfriend), but it's not necessary to the understanding of the
story. Of course, it does help if you've seen both of those episodes.
Hope you like it.
POV: Jed Spoilers : "Election Night," "Two Cathedrals," "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen" Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: These wonderful characters are not mine. I wish they were.
Days Like This
A West Wing Story
There will be more days like this.
It's gonna be harder this time.
Yeah. He knew that. Or at least he told her he did. And maybe her pained observation had merely verified his unspoken thoughts.
She had seen through him. No one else had.
A shaky hand. Easily hidden or misdirected.
A headache. He shouldn't have even asked Charlie for asprin. They hadn't helped much, anyway.
Blurred vision. Not a problem. He knew the speech, could ad lib with finesse. There had been no hesitation with his impromptu conclusion. Even Toby just set it aside as his expected practice of straying from the script.
But Abbey had seen it, had known he was off the prompter. Only someone who had breathed every breath with him for 35 years could have seen that.
Would it be harder this time? Was this the start? Or was it just an episode - and not a bad one, at that, considering the constant, draining stress of the past few months. Qumar, Shareef, Israel, the campaign.
He resisted the urge to press a palm against his right temple, aware that it would draw her immediate attention. Instead, he glanced at her sitting next to him in the limo and realized he'd caught her unprepared. She blinked away bright tears and smiled at him, patting his hand.
"That was sweet," she sniffed.
The election? The pat? The kiss that C.J. had interrupted backstage? He wasn't sure which she referred to. Or something entirely different. But whatever it was, he agreed.
"Yeah."
Her lips pressed tight before they curved into a shadowed smile. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"
Maybe. "Sure." He knew she'd call his bluff, but he was too tired to think of some quick save.
"The kiss you gave C.J."
His brow rose at this. He hadn't even realized he had done it. C.J. was his daughter, the kiss an instinctive move. "Jealous?" he teased.
Abbey smiled. "Always, handsome."
He nodded, accepting the conversation for what it was: a dance around the heavier subject - the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The possibility that this was, indeed, the start.
"New Hampshire," she said abruptly.
"What?"
"That's what I meant. Carrying New Hampshire. That was sweet." Her hand squeezed his again and he squeezed back.
Ah. It was, indeed, sweet. How could he have forgotten that? Even with the landslide victory, the cake would not have been as sweet without that special icing - one he had not expected to taste this time around.
Nine million vote margin. Huge victory. The country's confidence. They were no longer the "new kids," the novices. The next four years would be his best. This was the time - the time to lower those horrendous numbers that he and the ghost of Dolores Landingham had discussed that stormy night over a year ago. Homicide, homeless, uninsured.
Leo had told him this was the time of Jed Bartlet. He didn't know how much time he had, but he knew it would damn well be at least four more years. He wouldn't give in, not now. There was too much left to do - and America had overwhelmingly trusted him to do it.
The sudden realization of the impact of such a victory took his breath so audibly that Abbey turned to him, concern on her face.
"Jed?"
Grinning, he leaned in and kissed her reassuringly, kissed her more thoroughly than he had been at liberty to do backstage. When he finally pulled back, he saw the concern bleed away into curiosity. Before she could ask, he answered.
"Nine million votes. Who'd have thought?"
Now a grin lifted her lips. "I would. Toby would. C.J. would. And Josh. And Sam. And Leo - always Leo."
Always Leo.
This is the time of Jed Bartlet.
He hadn't seen much of the best friend today - on purpose - because only Leo, besides Abbey, would have seen the shaking hand, or sensed the headache, or noticed the veering away from the teleprompter. So he had avoided his chief of staff until Leo and C.J. gave him the news.
"You're gonna win New Hampshire."
And the smile that broke Leo's stern expression had been almost as rewarding as what he had to say. C.J. looked just as delighted, and their joy on his behalf threatened to overwhelm him. So much that he didn't trust himself to speak. Instead, he had walked into the crowd of workers, gently shushed their spontaneous applause, and watched with them as the announcers continued to report the growing margin of victory for incumbent President Josiah Bartlet.
"Hey." Abbey's soft voice drew him back to the present.
He turned, smiled at her. "Hey."
"It's going to be okay," she said and there was actually a shade of confidence in the tone.
"Yeah." Unconvinced.
"It is," she assured him, placing a hand along his face, the conviction stronger now. "Jed, it is. You are still Josiah Bartlet - the smartest man I know."
He smirked. It was rare when she indulged his ego. "And the most handsome?" he pushed, taking the unexpected opportunity to solicit more.
"Goes without saying," she observed, brushing the hair back at his temple.
"You can say occasionally."
Her eyes shone with love, and pride, and a promising spark of desire. "And the most handsome."
"Okay." Now he shifted his arm around her back, drew her closer against him.
The staff were making their way back to the White House on their own, leaving the President and First Lady alone in the limo. Jed figured C.J. was behind that arrangement. Even Charlie caught another ride. He had gathered a second wind, shaking calmed, blurriness cleared. Might as well take advantage of it.
His mouth touched hers, his tongue nudging between her lips. His hands, steady now, slid up the suit jacket all the way from waist to neck.
"Jed?" she breathed, and he heard the desire in her tone as he trailed down her throat, his fingers opening the jacket, his lips following the swell of her breast.
"Hmm?" Mouth too busy to be coherent.
"You're feeling better." A statement, not a question.
He answered, anyway. "Um hmm."
"We do have tonight. I want tonight."
He figured she meant the glory of the election, but something in her voice made him lift his head, abandon his caresses momentarily. Her eyes told him more. Much more. Yes, she meant the glory of the election, but she also meant many things, one of which was the immediately intriguing possibility of a private celebration.
"Babe?" he asked, knowing she could interpret that one inquiry exactly.
The heat that glowed behind her eyes took his breath and he swallowed as she let her hands slip under his jacket and over his hips. "Abbey," he groaned, pleased that his body didn't hesitate even for one second before it reacted.
She smiled, sliding around to confirm his arousal. "You've got lots of nights. We've got lots of nights."
The familiar foliage of LaFayette Park passing on the left caught his attention and he cleared his throat of the thick emotion that choked him.
"We're home," he noted, irony in his voice. Despite the pull of this house, this office, it would never be home. One day, he told himself, one day they would truly be home.
But not just yet.
There may be more days like this, but he wasn't finished yet. He had told her that after the debate. Not yet. There was so much left to do.
"Jed?"
He let his gaze drift back and felt his heart swell, pushing against his chest, at the blatant adoration directed at him.
"It's going to be a good four years," she proclaimed, her eyes commanding his to focus only on her. And in those warm depths, he saw that she meant it.
"Yeah." He did, too. "Yeah, it is."
Her fingers curled around his, her body pressed against him for a moment, reminding him that they did still have tonight. And more nights.
This was still the time of Jed Bartlet.
POV: Jed Spoilers : "Election Night," "Two Cathedrals," "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen" Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: These wonderful characters are not mine. I wish they were.
Days Like This
A West Wing Story
There will be more days like this.
It's gonna be harder this time.
Yeah. He knew that. Or at least he told her he did. And maybe her pained observation had merely verified his unspoken thoughts.
She had seen through him. No one else had.
A shaky hand. Easily hidden or misdirected.
A headache. He shouldn't have even asked Charlie for asprin. They hadn't helped much, anyway.
Blurred vision. Not a problem. He knew the speech, could ad lib with finesse. There had been no hesitation with his impromptu conclusion. Even Toby just set it aside as his expected practice of straying from the script.
But Abbey had seen it, had known he was off the prompter. Only someone who had breathed every breath with him for 35 years could have seen that.
Would it be harder this time? Was this the start? Or was it just an episode - and not a bad one, at that, considering the constant, draining stress of the past few months. Qumar, Shareef, Israel, the campaign.
He resisted the urge to press a palm against his right temple, aware that it would draw her immediate attention. Instead, he glanced at her sitting next to him in the limo and realized he'd caught her unprepared. She blinked away bright tears and smiled at him, patting his hand.
"That was sweet," she sniffed.
The election? The pat? The kiss that C.J. had interrupted backstage? He wasn't sure which she referred to. Or something entirely different. But whatever it was, he agreed.
"Yeah."
Her lips pressed tight before they curved into a shadowed smile. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"
Maybe. "Sure." He knew she'd call his bluff, but he was too tired to think of some quick save.
"The kiss you gave C.J."
His brow rose at this. He hadn't even realized he had done it. C.J. was his daughter, the kiss an instinctive move. "Jealous?" he teased.
Abbey smiled. "Always, handsome."
He nodded, accepting the conversation for what it was: a dance around the heavier subject - the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The possibility that this was, indeed, the start.
"New Hampshire," she said abruptly.
"What?"
"That's what I meant. Carrying New Hampshire. That was sweet." Her hand squeezed his again and he squeezed back.
Ah. It was, indeed, sweet. How could he have forgotten that? Even with the landslide victory, the cake would not have been as sweet without that special icing - one he had not expected to taste this time around.
Nine million vote margin. Huge victory. The country's confidence. They were no longer the "new kids," the novices. The next four years would be his best. This was the time - the time to lower those horrendous numbers that he and the ghost of Dolores Landingham had discussed that stormy night over a year ago. Homicide, homeless, uninsured.
Leo had told him this was the time of Jed Bartlet. He didn't know how much time he had, but he knew it would damn well be at least four more years. He wouldn't give in, not now. There was too much left to do - and America had overwhelmingly trusted him to do it.
The sudden realization of the impact of such a victory took his breath so audibly that Abbey turned to him, concern on her face.
"Jed?"
Grinning, he leaned in and kissed her reassuringly, kissed her more thoroughly than he had been at liberty to do backstage. When he finally pulled back, he saw the concern bleed away into curiosity. Before she could ask, he answered.
"Nine million votes. Who'd have thought?"
Now a grin lifted her lips. "I would. Toby would. C.J. would. And Josh. And Sam. And Leo - always Leo."
Always Leo.
This is the time of Jed Bartlet.
He hadn't seen much of the best friend today - on purpose - because only Leo, besides Abbey, would have seen the shaking hand, or sensed the headache, or noticed the veering away from the teleprompter. So he had avoided his chief of staff until Leo and C.J. gave him the news.
"You're gonna win New Hampshire."
And the smile that broke Leo's stern expression had been almost as rewarding as what he had to say. C.J. looked just as delighted, and their joy on his behalf threatened to overwhelm him. So much that he didn't trust himself to speak. Instead, he had walked into the crowd of workers, gently shushed their spontaneous applause, and watched with them as the announcers continued to report the growing margin of victory for incumbent President Josiah Bartlet.
"Hey." Abbey's soft voice drew him back to the present.
He turned, smiled at her. "Hey."
"It's going to be okay," she said and there was actually a shade of confidence in the tone.
"Yeah." Unconvinced.
"It is," she assured him, placing a hand along his face, the conviction stronger now. "Jed, it is. You are still Josiah Bartlet - the smartest man I know."
He smirked. It was rare when she indulged his ego. "And the most handsome?" he pushed, taking the unexpected opportunity to solicit more.
"Goes without saying," she observed, brushing the hair back at his temple.
"You can say occasionally."
Her eyes shone with love, and pride, and a promising spark of desire. "And the most handsome."
"Okay." Now he shifted his arm around her back, drew her closer against him.
The staff were making their way back to the White House on their own, leaving the President and First Lady alone in the limo. Jed figured C.J. was behind that arrangement. Even Charlie caught another ride. He had gathered a second wind, shaking calmed, blurriness cleared. Might as well take advantage of it.
His mouth touched hers, his tongue nudging between her lips. His hands, steady now, slid up the suit jacket all the way from waist to neck.
"Jed?" she breathed, and he heard the desire in her tone as he trailed down her throat, his fingers opening the jacket, his lips following the swell of her breast.
"Hmm?" Mouth too busy to be coherent.
"You're feeling better." A statement, not a question.
He answered, anyway. "Um hmm."
"We do have tonight. I want tonight."
He figured she meant the glory of the election, but something in her voice made him lift his head, abandon his caresses momentarily. Her eyes told him more. Much more. Yes, she meant the glory of the election, but she also meant many things, one of which was the immediately intriguing possibility of a private celebration.
"Babe?" he asked, knowing she could interpret that one inquiry exactly.
The heat that glowed behind her eyes took his breath and he swallowed as she let her hands slip under his jacket and over his hips. "Abbey," he groaned, pleased that his body didn't hesitate even for one second before it reacted.
She smiled, sliding around to confirm his arousal. "You've got lots of nights. We've got lots of nights."
The familiar foliage of LaFayette Park passing on the left caught his attention and he cleared his throat of the thick emotion that choked him.
"We're home," he noted, irony in his voice. Despite the pull of this house, this office, it would never be home. One day, he told himself, one day they would truly be home.
But not just yet.
There may be more days like this, but he wasn't finished yet. He had told her that after the debate. Not yet. There was so much left to do.
"Jed?"
He let his gaze drift back and felt his heart swell, pushing against his chest, at the blatant adoration directed at him.
"It's going to be a good four years," she proclaimed, her eyes commanding his to focus only on her. And in those warm depths, he saw that she meant it.
"Yeah." He did, too. "Yeah, it is."
Her fingers curled around his, her body pressed against him for a moment, reminding him that they did still have tonight. And more nights.
This was still the time of Jed Bartlet.