"Love's Creation," part of the "As I Was Drifting Away" series follows
these stories, in order:
"As I Was Drifting Away," "In Your Eyes," "Some Say," "Stony Limits," and "Beauty and Honor."
Hope you enjoy!
POV: Donna Spoilers: None, really. Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: These are not my characters. I am thankful for having them to enjoy, though.
Love's Creation - Chapter One
A West Wing Story
by MAHC
This was a war.
Well, not really, at least not yet. There were, indeed, detonations, they discovered, at Kumchang-ri, but whether they were nuclear in nature had yet to be confirmed. And Jed was not about to propel any of his soldiers into danger without being damned sure about it. Still, this placed the U.S. and North Korea teetering on the brink of war. Reluctantly, Jed stepped up the alert status in the DMZ and held private phone conversations with the Prime Minister of Great Britain as well as members of the U.N. Security Council.
No, this was not war. Not yet. And Donna prayed they never made it there.
So they waited, waited for more intelligence information, waited for indications of what their U.N. allies would support, waited for any evidence that North Korea might back off. And while they waited, life in the White House continued at its usual chaotic pace, and Donna Moss Bartlet began discovering just what being First Lady meant.
It meant talking, which, fortunately, she was good at. Talking at luncheons, and clubs, and charity events. It meant promoting the President's agenda, and continuing the cause for healthcare for children that Abbey Bartlet had begun years before. It meant keeping a grueling pace, one she could have handled more easily if she didn't have to stop by the bathroom before every engagement to throw up.
She usually began her day hunched over the residence toilet, Jed patiently holding her long hair away from harm. Then, she splashed water on her face, accepted the glass of ginger ale and five crackers he religiously prepared, and gingerly eased into the morning. These days had revealed another layer to him, one she had sensed was there, but had not really experienced before. Maybe it was living with four women for so long, but he seemed to know what she needed before she did: a cool cloth, a neck rub, a sip of water, or sprite, or ginger ale. The tenderness with which he waited on her was so at odds with the strength and power he displayed just one floor down.
Then they parted, each immersed in his or her own schedules, only to come back together, sometimes for supper, but usually not until long after that. Mostly she fell asleep before he made it upstairs, and woke in his arms the next morning. She didn't feel much like making love, her body warring against fatigue and nausea, but he seemed to understand, and she reminded herself, he had been through this three times before. It was enough just to know that he would be there eventually after her luncheons and meetings, after his own hectic agenda. He would be there.
"Mrs. Bartlet, are you all right?"
Donna Bartlet, First Lady of the United States, looked away from the tiny finger sandwich that she had managed to nibble without immediately regurgitating. Although she attempted to maintain nonchalance, she could read concern in the speaker's voice.
Mustering a smile she hoped gave some semblance of sincerity, she replied, "Yes, of course."
But she wasn't. She was doing her very best not to bolt for the nearest restroom, hand over her mouth in an attempt to avoid throwing up in front of patrons to the Women Mayors of America luncheon.
With effort, she focused again on the person who had interrupted her tedious concentration. The woman had dark hair, too dark, as if she had aged past the time that such a look could pass for natural. Her skin wrinkled in more than the usual places and her neck hung in ropey loose skin. But she did seem genuinely worried. Let's see - Mayor of Phoenix? Flagstaff? Butte, Montana? Maybe not. Donna mentally fussed at her normally sharp memory for its betrayal. The morning sickness, which, instead of dissipating after her third month, had decided to linger with her on into the day now, zapped any energy for her usual quick wit and reflexes.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Zoey Bartlet move next to her, the same concern on her face, but dominated by a determination to do something.
"Excuse me," Zoey interrupted smoothly and loudly enough for those close by to hear, "could I see you for just a moment?"
Oh, thank you. "All right." She turned back to the group, somehow hanging on to the contents of her stomach for a little while longer. "I'll be right back."
Most of the guests nodded obliviously and Donna tried not to run through the doors. When she finally reached the restroom, she wasn't even aware of her step-daughter's presence until she emerged, pale and shaking.
"Donna? You okay?"
"Oh! Zoey. You startled me. I didn't know - "
But this young lady was Jed Bartlet's daughter. There was little you could pull over her eyes. "You're pregnant." A statement, not a question.
Pressing a cold cloth to her neck, Donna looked at the face that was a striking reflection of both her father and mother. No use to deny it now. She and Jed had planned on telling his girls soon, anyway. With a quick nod, she acknowledged the deduction.
"How far along?" Zoey asked.
Okay. Now what to say? They had batted this back and forth, trying to determine whether to fudge a little or just go with the truth. Then something C.J. had told her once flashed through her mind - something Abbey Bartlet had said, although she didn't remember the exact quote. The truth will do it every time.
"Five months," she said, and watched as Jed's daughter mentally counted back. To her surprise, Zoey didn't seem shocked at all.
"You're not showing much," she observed simply. "How's Dad feel?"
Donna grinned. "He's almost like a kid, himself, about it. I've never seen him so excited."
She refrained from details about how Jed would hold her in his arms, his ear to her stomach, sometimes pressing light kisses across the small bulge blossoming, or how his hands always seemed to find their way there. There were some things children just didn't want to know about their parents.
"Well," Zoey noted, "if you keep barfing at parties, somebody's gonna figure it out before long. When are you guys planning on going public?"
Good question, one they had pondered for a few weeks, but hadn't actually settled on. They knew they should tell family first, and, honestly, what had held them back was how Jed's girls would take it. Zoey's acceptance brought hope. But there were still Liz, Ellie, and even Annie to go. And Donna's parents, but she knew that was no problem. Her mother had already started hinting for grandkids, anyway.
"They will be gorgeous," she had gushed confidently when she got over the shock of finding out who her son-in-law would be and got to thinking about how his and Donna's genes would mix.
"There's just so much going on," Donna confessed. "Air traffic controllers grumbling. North Korea. Troops on alert at the DMZ. He may send the Secretary of State. He doesn't want a war."
Zoey nodded, as if everybody's father had to deal with such problems. "Yeah. That really sucks, I know." Her eyes softened along with her voice. "Dad's concerned that he's not spending enough time with you."
"Really?" That was a surprise. She didn't know that Jed had even spoken with Zoey much recently.
"I called the other day, just to check on things. He feels guilty, I think. He did with Mom, too - " She stopped and cringed. "I'm sorry, Donna. I didn't mean to - "
Donna smiled and shook her head, touched that the younger woman would be sensitive enough about her to feel regret. "It's okay, Zoey. He was married to your mom for thirty-five years. You don't have to tip toe around that for me. We actually talk about Abbey quite often."
"Really?" There were tears in Abbey's youngest daughter's eyes, now.
"Yeah. He loved her very much, you know that?"
"Yeah, I do. But I didn't want to make you feel -"
"It's a significant part of his life. And I'm glad now that I'm a part of his life. I love him, Zoey. I love him very much. You know that, right?"
Zoey nodded. "I know. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in his, too." And she startled Donna with an impulsive hug. They stood, arms around each other for a long moment, an unexpected bonding taking place right there in the ladies lounge. Finally, the First Daughter pulled away and wiped at damp eyes.
"Okay, the women mayors will be wondering where you got off to. Let's go back."
"Yeah." Donna clutched Zoey's hand in a final squeeze. "Thanks."
"What'd the doctor say?" Jed asked, pouring himself just a taste of brandy and sitting back in the chair. His tie lay tossed over the couch, crumpled on top of his jacket, which was equally crumpled. He had flicked open the first three buttons of his shirt and now leaned his head back against the upholstery, eyes closed, finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. Lines of fatigue creased his face more deeply than usual.
She glanced at the clock, even though she had been glancing at it every thirty minutes for the past two hours. Midnight, and he had just walked in, having left over eighteen hours before. Swallowing a question about how he felt, she lay on the couch, feet propped. "Everything's fine. I'm at twenty-four weeks. Over halfway. She wants to do an ultra sound next visit."
"I'll clear my schedule to be there," he assured her, opening his eyes. His sad smile acknowledged the fact that he was supposed to have gone that day, but couldn't get away.
"Okay. How are things with the air traffic controllers?"
A deep sigh lifted his chest. "Tenuous at best. I don't think we're gonna win that one without using some muscle."
"But you don't want to?" His body language telegraphed that clearly.
He shook his head. "Nobody wins. Eleven thousand six hundred members of the Air Traffic Controllers struck early in Reagan's first term. He fired them all when they defied a back-to-work order."
"I remember," she acknowledged, although it was a vague memory. "What happened?"
"Put in managers, loyalists, and scabs to run things. He was just damned lucky that we didn't have 747s clipping each other in the skies over JFK and O'Hare."
She absorbed that information, wishing he didn't have this additional stress on top of Korea. Like he needed anything else now.
"Do you think they'll strike?" she finally asked.
"It's illegal," he stated.
"Will they?"
"Probably."
"What will you do?"
He thought for a long moment, staring at the brandy, which glowed golden brown in the glass. "I don't know."
They sat in silence for a moment before the door opened and Charlie stuck his head in, consistently wary about what he might interrupt. His relieved sigh amused Donna. "Mister President?"
"Yeah?" Jed answered, not looking up.
"Ms. McNally and Mr. McGarry are here to see you."
"Okay."
The two entered, both with concerned faces, both apologetic for the interruption. "Mister President, Mrs. Bartlet," Nancy began.
"Nancy?"
"We have confirmation, sir, that the detonations contained radioactive fallout. It was a nuclear test, Mister President."
This time the sigh betrayed pain. Whether it was physical or emotional, Donna couldn't tell. She just watched, feeling separated suddenly, disconnected from him. This was his area, his decision. They would talk later, she knew. He shared with her what he could, felt her out for opinions, something that had not yet ceased to amaze her, but at this moment, the decisions fell solely on his shoulders. She watched carefully for fatigue, for pain, for indecision. Knew she saw the first two, but not the third. Never the third.
"All right," he finally said. "Freeze all economic trading. And pull back heavy-fuel oil shipments. Demand an immediate and comprehensive IAEA inspection. Tell them we know. Don't take a denial. We KNOW. Bottom line. No more chances."
Nancy nodded and the expression revealed both anxiety and approval. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Mister President."
He sat back, ran a hand through hair that was already scattered. "Damn." That sounded haggard, weary.
"Mister President?" Leo started.
Jed jumped just a little, as if he had forgotten the Chief of Staff was even there. He grunted his acknowledgement.
"It's all you can do. There is no other choice." Bless you, Leo, she thought. Even though Jed realized he had done what was necessary, he still needed that affirmation.
"Yeah." But her husband's answer did not carry absolute conviction, not by a long shot.
"We'll probably need you in the -"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Thank you, Mister President." She found it strange that Leo was so formal, after all the years between them, but she saw the philosophy behind it. Jed was the President of the United States and Leo wanted him to think that way in times like this.
Was the wait over? She didn't know, but a new step had been taken, and it was a big step. He shifted in the chair, bracing his arms to push up, despite the obvious exhaustion that bled through every pore of his body. Before he could rise, she stopped him, standing over him and letting her fingers glide in slow circles at his temples, across his forehead, down his neck and shoulders. He groaned in appreciation, lowering his head to give her better access down his back. The tight muscles under her hands resisted the pressure, but she figured it helped, anyway. Finally, he drew in a deep breath and stood, heading back onto the firing line. She wondered how much longer he could function without sleep.
Turning to take her face in his hands, he kissed her softly, letting his lips linger on hers long enough for her blood to pump a little harder. "Thanks," he whispered when he pulled away. "I'll see you later tonight."
"This morning," she corrected ruefully.
He sighed and conceded a slight smile. "This morning."
As he walked through the doors, she watched him square his shoulders, watched the power of the Presidency bolster him, infuse him with the energy he needed. And she knew he would do what he had to do. She knew it.
Jed's children knew. C.J. knew. Margaret knew. Leo knew. Ron knew. He parents knew. It was time to tell the world. But before they did, she had to tell someone else.
"Josh?" Donna stood in the door to his office as she had hundreds of times before, the same smell of coffee and danishes, the same sounds of computer key clicks, racing feet, and constant, overflowing, brisk conversations. For a moment, she felt as if she should be handing him files and ridiculing as many of his comments as possible. The good old days. The thought brought a grin to her face and that's how he first noticed her.
"Donna!" His step toward her faltered as he shook off the same nostalgic sensation she was having. "Mrs. Bartlet," he amended, but not without an answering grin.
"And don't you forget it," she teased.
They stood for a minute before she swallowed and got on with it. With determination, she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
His brow rose in surprise and question. Deep breath. "There's - there's something I need to tell you, Josh," she began.
He perched nervously on the edge of his desk. "Ahkay."
This was harder than she had thought it would be and she didn't know why. This was Josh, her friend, her former boss. And suddenly she did know why. The what-if, the never-happened. Margaret's words came back now. "We knew it would happen eventually - "
But it hadn't happened. Wouldn't happen. What would he think? How would he feel? And more than anyone else, except for Jed, she cared what he thought.
"Okay, I'll just say this, straight out - no hem-hawing, no delays, no beating around the bush, no stall - "
"Donna!"
"Okay. Here goes. You know I'm married - "
"I heard something about that, yeah."
"I wasn't finished," she scolded.
"Oh."
"You know I'm married, now, and - you see - there are things married people do - "
"Okay," he interrupted, "you're not gonna tell me about - "
"Josh!"
"I'm just sayin' - "
"Josh."
"See, the President is my boss and there are some things I just don't really want to know - "
"Josh, will you shut up and let me tell you I'm pregnant?"
The abrupt silence that fell controlled the room for a full minute before he found the sense to speak. Even then it was not a particularly impressive response.
"What?"
That wasn't exactly how she had planned to say it, but now it was out. "I said, 'I'm pregnant.'"
"Pregnant?"
"Having a baby. In the family way. Knocked up."
Oops. That was probably going too far. His eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yeah," she breathed and laughed all at once.
"Does - does the President know?"
She laughed again. "Well, yeah."
"Oh course. That was stupid." He ran a hand through his hair. "You guys didn't waste any time, huh?" A cringe twisted his face. "Oh, God. I can't believe I said that. I mean, since it's the President - "
"It's okay, Josh. And truthfully, this was - well, this was not exactly planned."
"Really?"
"Yeah." She held his gaze pointedly, willing him to comprehend so she wouldn't have to say it right out.
"You mean, you - before -"
"Yeah."
Eyes wide, he stood abruptly and paced the small office. "You're telling me that the President got - got you pregnant and then - and then 'did the right thing'?"
Oh God! He thought that? She felt her jaw drop, knew she stared at him with eyes just as wide. How could he-
"Joshua Lyman!" she snapped. "What do you think of me? Of HIM?"
Now he got that look as if someone had just jerked his favorite toy away. "Well, you said - see, it sounded like - Oh, hell, Donna. If you had to get married, if you needed - well, I would have - I could have - "
Now she softened, hearing what he couldn't quite say. And even though she was still hurt and a little miffed, she was also touched.
"Josh, you're too sweet sometimes. Goofily sweet, but sweet."
The total confusion still swirled in his eyes.
"Do you think Jed would sacrifice the rest of his life to marry someone just to 'do the right thing'?"
He thought about it. "Well, yeah." Okay, he was probably right.
"Then, do you think I would marry someone I didn't love just because I needed a legitimate father for my baby?"
This time he smiled. "Well, no, no I don't."
Placing a hand on his arm, she assured him, "Jed didn't know I was pregnant when he proposed. I wasn't sure, myself. It came as quite a shock to both of us." Now her eyes darkened a bit as she recalled those anguished days when she considered leaving for his sake. Fortunately, he had been stubborn enough to keep her there. "As a matter of fact, I tried to be the one to 'do right.'"
"What do you mean?" He had perched again on the desk, more relaxed now.
"I tried to leave, thought it would be best for him and the country."
"But?"
"He wouldn't let me. He said -" Tears formed in her eyes as she heard again the words from her husband. "He said he was in love for the second and last time in his life and he wouldn't let anyone take that away from him. Not even me."
Now Josh's eyes were suspiciously bright, as well, and he nodded silently. For a moment they just looked at each other, both remembering the early days. Both pondering future days. Finally, he rose and hugged her tightly, relating so many emotions in that one gesture. When he pulled back, he was smiling.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Bartlet," he said formally, "to you and to the President."
"Thank you, Mister Lyman," she returned in kind.
As she turned to leave the office, Josh's soft call stopped her. "Donna?"
She glanced back, brow raised.
"Tell him - tell him I said, "Way to go.'"
A blush colored her cheeks, but she nodded anyway.
Two weeks after her conversation with Josh, Donna sat with Jed in the Residence, hands entwined with his, watching the news conference. There had already been a minor leak, orchestrated by C.J. to feel out the possible attitudes they might encounter. He squeezed her hand as the press secretary stepped to the podium. She squeezed back and dragged in a deep breath.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," C.J. greeted smoothly. "Several items on the docket today. The President is considering sending the Secretary of State to speak with the North Korean President about the situation there. He is hopeful that this would reduce our heightened state of alert with Korea. We continue to operate at increased alert at the DMZ, and the embargo on heavy-fuel oils remains in effect. We'll have updates for you as soon as possible."
She had not even taken a breath before the first question was thrown toward her. "When does the President plan on sending the Secretary?"
Composed as usual, C.J. fielded the reporter's pitch easily. "There's no definite date set, Sandy, but my guess is within the next two weeks."
"What's the plan if this doesn't work?"
"Well, as I said, the President is hopeful it will. He does not take military action lightly, but he will take it, if necessary."
"Does that mean he's considering military action?"
"That means he's considering what it takes to keep our country, and indeed, the world safe from increased nuclear activity and threats."
"C.J.!"
She scanned the crowd, pointing to a slender male reporter near the back. "Carlos?"
"C.J., what information do you have about the possibility of negotiations between air traffic controllers and the FAA falling apart? How does the President feel about a possible strike?"
She glanced up at the group coolly. "The President has made it clear that any strike will present unacceptable dangers to air passengers and he will act in whatever manner he needs to keep these workers on duty."
"Like President Reagan?"
"Well, I hesitate to compare President Bartlet's handling of such a situation with that of President Reagan, but I'd say it's not out of the realm of possibility."
Donna turned to her husband in surprise. "You're not going to fire them, are you?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "She's just floating it, seeing what reaction it'll get."
When no responses immediately followed, C.J. took a breath and continued casually. "Okay, just one more story that might be of some minor interest. The White House is pleased to announce that the President and First Lady are expecting a baby. They, of course, appreciate your thoughts and best wishes at this ti- "
"C.J.!"
Here they came. Donna clutched Jed's hand tighter.
"Steve?"
"Can you give us details?"
"About what?"
"About Mrs. Bartlet's pregnancy."
"Gee, Steve, the President didn't share details about that with me, and I don't think the he would really appreciate my telling the world, even if he had."
A low rumble of amusement scattered across the room. Donna blushed at the press secretary's insinuation, but knew exactly what she was doing. Jed released her hand and stretched his arm around her shoulders.
"I meant a due date, C.J.," the reporter clarified, his tone indicating he was not fooled by her feigned ignorance.
"Ah. Sure. The First Lady's physician has given an estimated due date of late November, but she is watching closely because there is a history in the First Lady's family of premature births. The First Lady, herself, was actually three weeks early."
That was true. C.J. had verified it with Donna's mother just that morning.
"The President, however, to my understanding, was a week and a half late, which, for those of you who travel with him, will come as no real surprise."
More chuckling. C.J. commanded the room. "Janet?"
"Sounds like a honeymoon baby, C.J. Was this planned? Did the President and First Lady anticipate starting a family right away?"
"Well, guys, again we're into some personal details, but I'll just say that the President and Mrs. Bartlet are thrilled about the baby and anxiously await his or her arrival."
"Are they going to find out the sex?"
"Not at this time. They both want to be surprised." Again.
"C.J.!"
"Okay, that's a full lid. If there's an update on Korea, we'll let you know." She gathered her folders and exited amid a few more unanswered questions from the press corps.
With a heavy sigh, Donna sank back on the couch into her husband's arms. "Okay. That was okay," she decided. "Don't you think? Don't you think that was okay?"
When she opened her eyes, without really remembering closing them, she found him watching her, a smile on his lips, the constant fatigue he had fought the past few months unapparent. "What?"
"It was okay, Baby. I love you."
Her response was muted by his kiss, his lips moving slowly and gently on hers, his hand slipping, as it often did now, to her abdomen, resting over the place where their child grew, a place that had seemed to blossom suddenly and noticeably, after almost seven months of pregnancy. They had to admit the slowness to show had been quite beneficial in allowing for some time between the wedding and the announcement.
As his lips slid across her jaw and to her neck, she moaned. Finally, the morning sickness had eased, then disappeared altogether, and by her dutiful reading of What to Expect When You're Expecting, she agreed that the second trimester was much more enjoyable than the first. It had taken longer than the book promised, but eventually, her appetite returned, her energy was up, and her libido soared. This last, of course, delighted her husband, who had been quite patient through the early, miserable part of her pregnancy, and who was eager to take every advantage of her changing hormones.
Now she wondered what his immediate plans were as his hands rose to her swelling breasts. He leaned back on the couch arm, one foot on the floor, and pulled her down between his legs to recline against him. His fingers ran up and down her sides, over her stomach and breasts, finally slipping lower. She felt his hard response to her body beneath her.
"Jed?"
"Hmmm?"
"Aren't you supposed to -" Breaking off for a low moan, she tried to reclaim her concentration as he eased down her sides and over her hips. "Aren't you - "
"I've got a few minutes," he assured her, but she didn't believe him. Any moment now Leo or Charlie would be waltzing in and she would be humiliated. Of course, it was not as if that had not happened before, but she tried to avoid it, nevertheless.
"No - Ah! - Stop! I can't think when you - "
"I don't want you to think," he murmured, nibbling at her ear. "I just want you to relax."
"But - " It was no use. Her body sided with him, ignoring her attempts at control. He let his hands slide between them, pressing firmly against her lower back. She hadn't even mentioned it hurt, but he knew anyway. And he continued to rub softly as he whispered how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. Finally, he pulled her close against him and stretched his arms around her so that his hands again splayed possessively across her belly. They lay like that for several minutes, no sound in the room except the steady ticking of the clock and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. He meant only to hold her, only to offer comfort, she knew, but he couldn't help the very obvious reaction their intimate position had provoked. Unfortunately, her thoughts of moving to the next logical step disappeared when the expected knock at the door came.
"Damn."
He chuckled. "At least they're a little late."
"But I wanted to - "
"Don't' worry," he assured her. "Since your interest has returned - with a vengeance, I might add - I've started clearing a good a portion of my evenings. If Korea will just leave us the hell alone for a couple of hours, I'm yours tonight." One final nudge from his hips sealed the promise and she conceded the moment.
"All right. But you've got a problem right now that I don't think you want Leo or Charlie to be witness to."
"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath. "And you're gorgeous body pressed against my problem isn't helping a bit."
She took the hint and eased off, her eyes dropping automatically to his trousers and she was reminded of her thoughts the first time she had been privy to such a view. Very nice. Very nice, indeed. "Drape the afghan over you and I'll answer the door."
He moved with a mixture of discomfort and reluctance, but as he dragged the blanket across his lap, he motioned that the coast was clear, at least for the moment. Donna smoothed her dress self-consciously and opened the door.
"Donna," Leo greeted. "You're looking ravishing today."
"Hey!" Jed protested cheerfully. "That's my wife you're ogling there."
Leo smiled and Donna was glad to see that these two friends appeared much more at ease with each other recently. "With all due respect, Mister President," the Chief of Staff accused, "it appears as if she's been ogled already."
A bright flush colored her cheeks. Were they that obvious? Jed laughed and stood, tossing the afghan across the back of the couch, unconcerned with his condition. Maybe it wasn't as apparent anymore.
"Geez," the Chief of Staff groaned. "I'm sorry." Or maybe it was.
"Nah." Jed waved off the apology. "We were done talkin'."
Leo lifted a brow and Donna could hear his doubt even though he didn't voice it. But, true to form, he recovered quickly and plunged ahead.
"Phone call for you, Mister President," he announced, and Donna stared at him.
Jed cocked his head in suspicion. "Since when are you a phone messenger, Leo?"
"Since the caller is the President of North Korea."
"As I Was Drifting Away," "In Your Eyes," "Some Say," "Stony Limits," and "Beauty and Honor."
Hope you enjoy!
POV: Donna Spoilers: None, really. Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: These are not my characters. I am thankful for having them to enjoy, though.
Love's Creation - Chapter One
A West Wing Story
by MAHC
This was a war.
Well, not really, at least not yet. There were, indeed, detonations, they discovered, at Kumchang-ri, but whether they were nuclear in nature had yet to be confirmed. And Jed was not about to propel any of his soldiers into danger without being damned sure about it. Still, this placed the U.S. and North Korea teetering on the brink of war. Reluctantly, Jed stepped up the alert status in the DMZ and held private phone conversations with the Prime Minister of Great Britain as well as members of the U.N. Security Council.
No, this was not war. Not yet. And Donna prayed they never made it there.
So they waited, waited for more intelligence information, waited for indications of what their U.N. allies would support, waited for any evidence that North Korea might back off. And while they waited, life in the White House continued at its usual chaotic pace, and Donna Moss Bartlet began discovering just what being First Lady meant.
It meant talking, which, fortunately, she was good at. Talking at luncheons, and clubs, and charity events. It meant promoting the President's agenda, and continuing the cause for healthcare for children that Abbey Bartlet had begun years before. It meant keeping a grueling pace, one she could have handled more easily if she didn't have to stop by the bathroom before every engagement to throw up.
She usually began her day hunched over the residence toilet, Jed patiently holding her long hair away from harm. Then, she splashed water on her face, accepted the glass of ginger ale and five crackers he religiously prepared, and gingerly eased into the morning. These days had revealed another layer to him, one she had sensed was there, but had not really experienced before. Maybe it was living with four women for so long, but he seemed to know what she needed before she did: a cool cloth, a neck rub, a sip of water, or sprite, or ginger ale. The tenderness with which he waited on her was so at odds with the strength and power he displayed just one floor down.
Then they parted, each immersed in his or her own schedules, only to come back together, sometimes for supper, but usually not until long after that. Mostly she fell asleep before he made it upstairs, and woke in his arms the next morning. She didn't feel much like making love, her body warring against fatigue and nausea, but he seemed to understand, and she reminded herself, he had been through this three times before. It was enough just to know that he would be there eventually after her luncheons and meetings, after his own hectic agenda. He would be there.
"Mrs. Bartlet, are you all right?"
Donna Bartlet, First Lady of the United States, looked away from the tiny finger sandwich that she had managed to nibble without immediately regurgitating. Although she attempted to maintain nonchalance, she could read concern in the speaker's voice.
Mustering a smile she hoped gave some semblance of sincerity, she replied, "Yes, of course."
But she wasn't. She was doing her very best not to bolt for the nearest restroom, hand over her mouth in an attempt to avoid throwing up in front of patrons to the Women Mayors of America luncheon.
With effort, she focused again on the person who had interrupted her tedious concentration. The woman had dark hair, too dark, as if she had aged past the time that such a look could pass for natural. Her skin wrinkled in more than the usual places and her neck hung in ropey loose skin. But she did seem genuinely worried. Let's see - Mayor of Phoenix? Flagstaff? Butte, Montana? Maybe not. Donna mentally fussed at her normally sharp memory for its betrayal. The morning sickness, which, instead of dissipating after her third month, had decided to linger with her on into the day now, zapped any energy for her usual quick wit and reflexes.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Zoey Bartlet move next to her, the same concern on her face, but dominated by a determination to do something.
"Excuse me," Zoey interrupted smoothly and loudly enough for those close by to hear, "could I see you for just a moment?"
Oh, thank you. "All right." She turned back to the group, somehow hanging on to the contents of her stomach for a little while longer. "I'll be right back."
Most of the guests nodded obliviously and Donna tried not to run through the doors. When she finally reached the restroom, she wasn't even aware of her step-daughter's presence until she emerged, pale and shaking.
"Donna? You okay?"
"Oh! Zoey. You startled me. I didn't know - "
But this young lady was Jed Bartlet's daughter. There was little you could pull over her eyes. "You're pregnant." A statement, not a question.
Pressing a cold cloth to her neck, Donna looked at the face that was a striking reflection of both her father and mother. No use to deny it now. She and Jed had planned on telling his girls soon, anyway. With a quick nod, she acknowledged the deduction.
"How far along?" Zoey asked.
Okay. Now what to say? They had batted this back and forth, trying to determine whether to fudge a little or just go with the truth. Then something C.J. had told her once flashed through her mind - something Abbey Bartlet had said, although she didn't remember the exact quote. The truth will do it every time.
"Five months," she said, and watched as Jed's daughter mentally counted back. To her surprise, Zoey didn't seem shocked at all.
"You're not showing much," she observed simply. "How's Dad feel?"
Donna grinned. "He's almost like a kid, himself, about it. I've never seen him so excited."
She refrained from details about how Jed would hold her in his arms, his ear to her stomach, sometimes pressing light kisses across the small bulge blossoming, or how his hands always seemed to find their way there. There were some things children just didn't want to know about their parents.
"Well," Zoey noted, "if you keep barfing at parties, somebody's gonna figure it out before long. When are you guys planning on going public?"
Good question, one they had pondered for a few weeks, but hadn't actually settled on. They knew they should tell family first, and, honestly, what had held them back was how Jed's girls would take it. Zoey's acceptance brought hope. But there were still Liz, Ellie, and even Annie to go. And Donna's parents, but she knew that was no problem. Her mother had already started hinting for grandkids, anyway.
"They will be gorgeous," she had gushed confidently when she got over the shock of finding out who her son-in-law would be and got to thinking about how his and Donna's genes would mix.
"There's just so much going on," Donna confessed. "Air traffic controllers grumbling. North Korea. Troops on alert at the DMZ. He may send the Secretary of State. He doesn't want a war."
Zoey nodded, as if everybody's father had to deal with such problems. "Yeah. That really sucks, I know." Her eyes softened along with her voice. "Dad's concerned that he's not spending enough time with you."
"Really?" That was a surprise. She didn't know that Jed had even spoken with Zoey much recently.
"I called the other day, just to check on things. He feels guilty, I think. He did with Mom, too - " She stopped and cringed. "I'm sorry, Donna. I didn't mean to - "
Donna smiled and shook her head, touched that the younger woman would be sensitive enough about her to feel regret. "It's okay, Zoey. He was married to your mom for thirty-five years. You don't have to tip toe around that for me. We actually talk about Abbey quite often."
"Really?" There were tears in Abbey's youngest daughter's eyes, now.
"Yeah. He loved her very much, you know that?"
"Yeah, I do. But I didn't want to make you feel -"
"It's a significant part of his life. And I'm glad now that I'm a part of his life. I love him, Zoey. I love him very much. You know that, right?"
Zoey nodded. "I know. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in his, too." And she startled Donna with an impulsive hug. They stood, arms around each other for a long moment, an unexpected bonding taking place right there in the ladies lounge. Finally, the First Daughter pulled away and wiped at damp eyes.
"Okay, the women mayors will be wondering where you got off to. Let's go back."
"Yeah." Donna clutched Zoey's hand in a final squeeze. "Thanks."
"What'd the doctor say?" Jed asked, pouring himself just a taste of brandy and sitting back in the chair. His tie lay tossed over the couch, crumpled on top of his jacket, which was equally crumpled. He had flicked open the first three buttons of his shirt and now leaned his head back against the upholstery, eyes closed, finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. Lines of fatigue creased his face more deeply than usual.
She glanced at the clock, even though she had been glancing at it every thirty minutes for the past two hours. Midnight, and he had just walked in, having left over eighteen hours before. Swallowing a question about how he felt, she lay on the couch, feet propped. "Everything's fine. I'm at twenty-four weeks. Over halfway. She wants to do an ultra sound next visit."
"I'll clear my schedule to be there," he assured her, opening his eyes. His sad smile acknowledged the fact that he was supposed to have gone that day, but couldn't get away.
"Okay. How are things with the air traffic controllers?"
A deep sigh lifted his chest. "Tenuous at best. I don't think we're gonna win that one without using some muscle."
"But you don't want to?" His body language telegraphed that clearly.
He shook his head. "Nobody wins. Eleven thousand six hundred members of the Air Traffic Controllers struck early in Reagan's first term. He fired them all when they defied a back-to-work order."
"I remember," she acknowledged, although it was a vague memory. "What happened?"
"Put in managers, loyalists, and scabs to run things. He was just damned lucky that we didn't have 747s clipping each other in the skies over JFK and O'Hare."
She absorbed that information, wishing he didn't have this additional stress on top of Korea. Like he needed anything else now.
"Do you think they'll strike?" she finally asked.
"It's illegal," he stated.
"Will they?"
"Probably."
"What will you do?"
He thought for a long moment, staring at the brandy, which glowed golden brown in the glass. "I don't know."
They sat in silence for a moment before the door opened and Charlie stuck his head in, consistently wary about what he might interrupt. His relieved sigh amused Donna. "Mister President?"
"Yeah?" Jed answered, not looking up.
"Ms. McNally and Mr. McGarry are here to see you."
"Okay."
The two entered, both with concerned faces, both apologetic for the interruption. "Mister President, Mrs. Bartlet," Nancy began.
"Nancy?"
"We have confirmation, sir, that the detonations contained radioactive fallout. It was a nuclear test, Mister President."
This time the sigh betrayed pain. Whether it was physical or emotional, Donna couldn't tell. She just watched, feeling separated suddenly, disconnected from him. This was his area, his decision. They would talk later, she knew. He shared with her what he could, felt her out for opinions, something that had not yet ceased to amaze her, but at this moment, the decisions fell solely on his shoulders. She watched carefully for fatigue, for pain, for indecision. Knew she saw the first two, but not the third. Never the third.
"All right," he finally said. "Freeze all economic trading. And pull back heavy-fuel oil shipments. Demand an immediate and comprehensive IAEA inspection. Tell them we know. Don't take a denial. We KNOW. Bottom line. No more chances."
Nancy nodded and the expression revealed both anxiety and approval. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Mister President."
He sat back, ran a hand through hair that was already scattered. "Damn." That sounded haggard, weary.
"Mister President?" Leo started.
Jed jumped just a little, as if he had forgotten the Chief of Staff was even there. He grunted his acknowledgement.
"It's all you can do. There is no other choice." Bless you, Leo, she thought. Even though Jed realized he had done what was necessary, he still needed that affirmation.
"Yeah." But her husband's answer did not carry absolute conviction, not by a long shot.
"We'll probably need you in the -"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Thank you, Mister President." She found it strange that Leo was so formal, after all the years between them, but she saw the philosophy behind it. Jed was the President of the United States and Leo wanted him to think that way in times like this.
Was the wait over? She didn't know, but a new step had been taken, and it was a big step. He shifted in the chair, bracing his arms to push up, despite the obvious exhaustion that bled through every pore of his body. Before he could rise, she stopped him, standing over him and letting her fingers glide in slow circles at his temples, across his forehead, down his neck and shoulders. He groaned in appreciation, lowering his head to give her better access down his back. The tight muscles under her hands resisted the pressure, but she figured it helped, anyway. Finally, he drew in a deep breath and stood, heading back onto the firing line. She wondered how much longer he could function without sleep.
Turning to take her face in his hands, he kissed her softly, letting his lips linger on hers long enough for her blood to pump a little harder. "Thanks," he whispered when he pulled away. "I'll see you later tonight."
"This morning," she corrected ruefully.
He sighed and conceded a slight smile. "This morning."
As he walked through the doors, she watched him square his shoulders, watched the power of the Presidency bolster him, infuse him with the energy he needed. And she knew he would do what he had to do. She knew it.
Jed's children knew. C.J. knew. Margaret knew. Leo knew. Ron knew. He parents knew. It was time to tell the world. But before they did, she had to tell someone else.
"Josh?" Donna stood in the door to his office as she had hundreds of times before, the same smell of coffee and danishes, the same sounds of computer key clicks, racing feet, and constant, overflowing, brisk conversations. For a moment, she felt as if she should be handing him files and ridiculing as many of his comments as possible. The good old days. The thought brought a grin to her face and that's how he first noticed her.
"Donna!" His step toward her faltered as he shook off the same nostalgic sensation she was having. "Mrs. Bartlet," he amended, but not without an answering grin.
"And don't you forget it," she teased.
They stood for a minute before she swallowed and got on with it. With determination, she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
His brow rose in surprise and question. Deep breath. "There's - there's something I need to tell you, Josh," she began.
He perched nervously on the edge of his desk. "Ahkay."
This was harder than she had thought it would be and she didn't know why. This was Josh, her friend, her former boss. And suddenly she did know why. The what-if, the never-happened. Margaret's words came back now. "We knew it would happen eventually - "
But it hadn't happened. Wouldn't happen. What would he think? How would he feel? And more than anyone else, except for Jed, she cared what he thought.
"Okay, I'll just say this, straight out - no hem-hawing, no delays, no beating around the bush, no stall - "
"Donna!"
"Okay. Here goes. You know I'm married - "
"I heard something about that, yeah."
"I wasn't finished," she scolded.
"Oh."
"You know I'm married, now, and - you see - there are things married people do - "
"Okay," he interrupted, "you're not gonna tell me about - "
"Josh!"
"I'm just sayin' - "
"Josh."
"See, the President is my boss and there are some things I just don't really want to know - "
"Josh, will you shut up and let me tell you I'm pregnant?"
The abrupt silence that fell controlled the room for a full minute before he found the sense to speak. Even then it was not a particularly impressive response.
"What?"
That wasn't exactly how she had planned to say it, but now it was out. "I said, 'I'm pregnant.'"
"Pregnant?"
"Having a baby. In the family way. Knocked up."
Oops. That was probably going too far. His eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yeah," she breathed and laughed all at once.
"Does - does the President know?"
She laughed again. "Well, yeah."
"Oh course. That was stupid." He ran a hand through his hair. "You guys didn't waste any time, huh?" A cringe twisted his face. "Oh, God. I can't believe I said that. I mean, since it's the President - "
"It's okay, Josh. And truthfully, this was - well, this was not exactly planned."
"Really?"
"Yeah." She held his gaze pointedly, willing him to comprehend so she wouldn't have to say it right out.
"You mean, you - before -"
"Yeah."
Eyes wide, he stood abruptly and paced the small office. "You're telling me that the President got - got you pregnant and then - and then 'did the right thing'?"
Oh God! He thought that? She felt her jaw drop, knew she stared at him with eyes just as wide. How could he-
"Joshua Lyman!" she snapped. "What do you think of me? Of HIM?"
Now he got that look as if someone had just jerked his favorite toy away. "Well, you said - see, it sounded like - Oh, hell, Donna. If you had to get married, if you needed - well, I would have - I could have - "
Now she softened, hearing what he couldn't quite say. And even though she was still hurt and a little miffed, she was also touched.
"Josh, you're too sweet sometimes. Goofily sweet, but sweet."
The total confusion still swirled in his eyes.
"Do you think Jed would sacrifice the rest of his life to marry someone just to 'do the right thing'?"
He thought about it. "Well, yeah." Okay, he was probably right.
"Then, do you think I would marry someone I didn't love just because I needed a legitimate father for my baby?"
This time he smiled. "Well, no, no I don't."
Placing a hand on his arm, she assured him, "Jed didn't know I was pregnant when he proposed. I wasn't sure, myself. It came as quite a shock to both of us." Now her eyes darkened a bit as she recalled those anguished days when she considered leaving for his sake. Fortunately, he had been stubborn enough to keep her there. "As a matter of fact, I tried to be the one to 'do right.'"
"What do you mean?" He had perched again on the desk, more relaxed now.
"I tried to leave, thought it would be best for him and the country."
"But?"
"He wouldn't let me. He said -" Tears formed in her eyes as she heard again the words from her husband. "He said he was in love for the second and last time in his life and he wouldn't let anyone take that away from him. Not even me."
Now Josh's eyes were suspiciously bright, as well, and he nodded silently. For a moment they just looked at each other, both remembering the early days. Both pondering future days. Finally, he rose and hugged her tightly, relating so many emotions in that one gesture. When he pulled back, he was smiling.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Bartlet," he said formally, "to you and to the President."
"Thank you, Mister Lyman," she returned in kind.
As she turned to leave the office, Josh's soft call stopped her. "Donna?"
She glanced back, brow raised.
"Tell him - tell him I said, "Way to go.'"
A blush colored her cheeks, but she nodded anyway.
Two weeks after her conversation with Josh, Donna sat with Jed in the Residence, hands entwined with his, watching the news conference. There had already been a minor leak, orchestrated by C.J. to feel out the possible attitudes they might encounter. He squeezed her hand as the press secretary stepped to the podium. She squeezed back and dragged in a deep breath.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," C.J. greeted smoothly. "Several items on the docket today. The President is considering sending the Secretary of State to speak with the North Korean President about the situation there. He is hopeful that this would reduce our heightened state of alert with Korea. We continue to operate at increased alert at the DMZ, and the embargo on heavy-fuel oils remains in effect. We'll have updates for you as soon as possible."
She had not even taken a breath before the first question was thrown toward her. "When does the President plan on sending the Secretary?"
Composed as usual, C.J. fielded the reporter's pitch easily. "There's no definite date set, Sandy, but my guess is within the next two weeks."
"What's the plan if this doesn't work?"
"Well, as I said, the President is hopeful it will. He does not take military action lightly, but he will take it, if necessary."
"Does that mean he's considering military action?"
"That means he's considering what it takes to keep our country, and indeed, the world safe from increased nuclear activity and threats."
"C.J.!"
She scanned the crowd, pointing to a slender male reporter near the back. "Carlos?"
"C.J., what information do you have about the possibility of negotiations between air traffic controllers and the FAA falling apart? How does the President feel about a possible strike?"
She glanced up at the group coolly. "The President has made it clear that any strike will present unacceptable dangers to air passengers and he will act in whatever manner he needs to keep these workers on duty."
"Like President Reagan?"
"Well, I hesitate to compare President Bartlet's handling of such a situation with that of President Reagan, but I'd say it's not out of the realm of possibility."
Donna turned to her husband in surprise. "You're not going to fire them, are you?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "She's just floating it, seeing what reaction it'll get."
When no responses immediately followed, C.J. took a breath and continued casually. "Okay, just one more story that might be of some minor interest. The White House is pleased to announce that the President and First Lady are expecting a baby. They, of course, appreciate your thoughts and best wishes at this ti- "
"C.J.!"
Here they came. Donna clutched Jed's hand tighter.
"Steve?"
"Can you give us details?"
"About what?"
"About Mrs. Bartlet's pregnancy."
"Gee, Steve, the President didn't share details about that with me, and I don't think the he would really appreciate my telling the world, even if he had."
A low rumble of amusement scattered across the room. Donna blushed at the press secretary's insinuation, but knew exactly what she was doing. Jed released her hand and stretched his arm around her shoulders.
"I meant a due date, C.J.," the reporter clarified, his tone indicating he was not fooled by her feigned ignorance.
"Ah. Sure. The First Lady's physician has given an estimated due date of late November, but she is watching closely because there is a history in the First Lady's family of premature births. The First Lady, herself, was actually three weeks early."
That was true. C.J. had verified it with Donna's mother just that morning.
"The President, however, to my understanding, was a week and a half late, which, for those of you who travel with him, will come as no real surprise."
More chuckling. C.J. commanded the room. "Janet?"
"Sounds like a honeymoon baby, C.J. Was this planned? Did the President and First Lady anticipate starting a family right away?"
"Well, guys, again we're into some personal details, but I'll just say that the President and Mrs. Bartlet are thrilled about the baby and anxiously await his or her arrival."
"Are they going to find out the sex?"
"Not at this time. They both want to be surprised." Again.
"C.J.!"
"Okay, that's a full lid. If there's an update on Korea, we'll let you know." She gathered her folders and exited amid a few more unanswered questions from the press corps.
With a heavy sigh, Donna sank back on the couch into her husband's arms. "Okay. That was okay," she decided. "Don't you think? Don't you think that was okay?"
When she opened her eyes, without really remembering closing them, she found him watching her, a smile on his lips, the constant fatigue he had fought the past few months unapparent. "What?"
"It was okay, Baby. I love you."
Her response was muted by his kiss, his lips moving slowly and gently on hers, his hand slipping, as it often did now, to her abdomen, resting over the place where their child grew, a place that had seemed to blossom suddenly and noticeably, after almost seven months of pregnancy. They had to admit the slowness to show had been quite beneficial in allowing for some time between the wedding and the announcement.
As his lips slid across her jaw and to her neck, she moaned. Finally, the morning sickness had eased, then disappeared altogether, and by her dutiful reading of What to Expect When You're Expecting, she agreed that the second trimester was much more enjoyable than the first. It had taken longer than the book promised, but eventually, her appetite returned, her energy was up, and her libido soared. This last, of course, delighted her husband, who had been quite patient through the early, miserable part of her pregnancy, and who was eager to take every advantage of her changing hormones.
Now she wondered what his immediate plans were as his hands rose to her swelling breasts. He leaned back on the couch arm, one foot on the floor, and pulled her down between his legs to recline against him. His fingers ran up and down her sides, over her stomach and breasts, finally slipping lower. She felt his hard response to her body beneath her.
"Jed?"
"Hmmm?"
"Aren't you supposed to -" Breaking off for a low moan, she tried to reclaim her concentration as he eased down her sides and over her hips. "Aren't you - "
"I've got a few minutes," he assured her, but she didn't believe him. Any moment now Leo or Charlie would be waltzing in and she would be humiliated. Of course, it was not as if that had not happened before, but she tried to avoid it, nevertheless.
"No - Ah! - Stop! I can't think when you - "
"I don't want you to think," he murmured, nibbling at her ear. "I just want you to relax."
"But - " It was no use. Her body sided with him, ignoring her attempts at control. He let his hands slide between them, pressing firmly against her lower back. She hadn't even mentioned it hurt, but he knew anyway. And he continued to rub softly as he whispered how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. Finally, he pulled her close against him and stretched his arms around her so that his hands again splayed possessively across her belly. They lay like that for several minutes, no sound in the room except the steady ticking of the clock and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. He meant only to hold her, only to offer comfort, she knew, but he couldn't help the very obvious reaction their intimate position had provoked. Unfortunately, her thoughts of moving to the next logical step disappeared when the expected knock at the door came.
"Damn."
He chuckled. "At least they're a little late."
"But I wanted to - "
"Don't' worry," he assured her. "Since your interest has returned - with a vengeance, I might add - I've started clearing a good a portion of my evenings. If Korea will just leave us the hell alone for a couple of hours, I'm yours tonight." One final nudge from his hips sealed the promise and she conceded the moment.
"All right. But you've got a problem right now that I don't think you want Leo or Charlie to be witness to."
"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath. "And you're gorgeous body pressed against my problem isn't helping a bit."
She took the hint and eased off, her eyes dropping automatically to his trousers and she was reminded of her thoughts the first time she had been privy to such a view. Very nice. Very nice, indeed. "Drape the afghan over you and I'll answer the door."
He moved with a mixture of discomfort and reluctance, but as he dragged the blanket across his lap, he motioned that the coast was clear, at least for the moment. Donna smoothed her dress self-consciously and opened the door.
"Donna," Leo greeted. "You're looking ravishing today."
"Hey!" Jed protested cheerfully. "That's my wife you're ogling there."
Leo smiled and Donna was glad to see that these two friends appeared much more at ease with each other recently. "With all due respect, Mister President," the Chief of Staff accused, "it appears as if she's been ogled already."
A bright flush colored her cheeks. Were they that obvious? Jed laughed and stood, tossing the afghan across the back of the couch, unconcerned with his condition. Maybe it wasn't as apparent anymore.
"Geez," the Chief of Staff groaned. "I'm sorry." Or maybe it was.
"Nah." Jed waved off the apology. "We were done talkin'."
Leo lifted a brow and Donna could hear his doubt even though he didn't voice it. But, true to form, he recovered quickly and plunged ahead.
"Phone call for you, Mister President," he announced, and Donna stared at him.
Jed cocked his head in suspicion. "Since when are you a phone messenger, Leo?"
"Since the caller is the President of North Korea."