This is the next story in the "As I Was Drifting Away" series. They fall
in this order:
"As I Was Drifting Away" "In Your Eyes" "Some Say" "Stony Limits" "Beauty and Honor" "Loves' Creation" "Jewel of Their Souls"
Thanks for the feedback and for reading!
POV: Donna Spoilers: None, really, except the other stories in this series Rating: PG Disclaimer: Jed, Donna, C.J. and the rest are AS's creation, but I created the baby. (Well, Jed and Donna did with a little help from me.)
Jewel of Their Souls - Chapter One
A West Wing Story
by MAHC
"You know, there are some good names in my family's history."
Donna looked up at her husband and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. The warm fire blazed in front of them as they sat on the couch in the Residence, their son held to her breast, suckling greedily. Gentle sounds from an instrumental CD of children's songs floated around them.
All right, she had been kidding about Moon Unit, but she wasn't at all sure that some of his suggestions were given in the same spirit of jest. "Such as?"
His eyes lit with the rare bit of encouragement she threw him. "Well, the first Josiah Bartlet, the signer of the Declaration of Independence had four sons, two of whom were named Josiah."
"Two?"
"The first died young, so he named the next one Josiah, too."
"Okay. You want to name him Josiah Junior?"
He shook his head. "Nah. He needs his own identity."
She agreed, but she had no problem with her husband's name. She liked it quite a bit, actually. It had a richness that spoke of history and significance. But his rejection meant he was proposing something else. "What," she asked warily, "were the others?"
"Ezra."
"Ezra?"
"It means 'helper' in Hebrew."
"You knew that off the top of your head?"
He shrugged.
"What's the other?"
"Levi."
"Ezra and Levi?"
"What do you think?"
"Let's re-visit Moon Unit."
He sighed and she joined him as they watched their child press a tiny fist against his mother. The first-born son of the President of the United States was ten days old now, home from the hospital for more than half his life and still not named. They had just been so shocked that it was not a girl that they had not prepared at all for a male heir to the Bartlet legacy.
"You know," she reminded him, "this is all your fault."
"My fault?" His brow lifted in innocence.
"Yes, Mister 'I know it's a girl'. Your fault."
He grinned, accepting the blame. "I'm still a little stunned about it myself."
She didn't know if he meant the baby being a boy or his being wrong, but she didn't mind because at that moment she was bathed in the warm tenderness on his face as he watched his wife and child. One hand rested lightly on the infant's head, the other circled her waist, which was gradually becoming visible again.
"He is beautiful, isn't he?" he observed.
She looked at the baby, his blonde hair swirling gently on his head, his even features already resembling those of his father. Shifting her own hand to rest on her husband's, she agreed. "He certainly is."
"You know," he said, in a disarming tone that raised her defenses again, "Cicero was an amazing fellow. Greek historian - "
"No."
"But - "
"No."
"Okay." He took it in stride. She had already shot down at least 65 suggestions already, but he seemed prepared to continue valiantly. "Cleatus means 'illustrious' - "
Choosing not to acknowledge that one, she just smiled fondly and kissed him and they both sat in silence, content to absorb the precious moment a little longer. As the solitude lengthened, her thoughts swam back to a week earlier.
The homecoming had been a madhouse. It seemed all of America was smitten with their new prince and the press clamored for one glimpse of the child, one word from the parents. C.J. had been forced to take a firm stand regarding access. Their exodus from the hospital proved to be only a portent of the frenzy that would follow.
It was a crisp fall day, only two weeks away from Thanksgiving, when mother and baby had been released, both doing well. Donna took special care in dressing her son in the blue Feltman Brothers gown that seemed to be the required dress for newborns. Then she blanketed him in the same color and allowed Jed to carry him for his first exposure to the waiting world.
When they neared the door, she gasped at the sight of the massive crowd just beyond the entrance. Hundreds of cameras and microphones were set up as close as C.J. had allowed. Her experiences with the media had been less than pleasant, and she drew in a deep breath to steel herself against the onslaught. Jed must have sensed her unease, because he shifted his son snugly into the crook of his right arm and reached down to grip her hand in his.
"It's all right," he assured her softly. "C.J.'s got things under control."
She had every confidence in C.J., but that didn't ease her apprehension in the least. She bore a new mother's neurotic anxiety over everything. The pavilion would collapse; the car would run over them; the reporters would rush them and trample them. She couldn't help it. It was hormonal.
Still, logically, she realized he was right. Rising from the obligatory wheelchair at the entrance, she stood with her husband and child, smiling as best she could as the cameras exploded, the barrage of flashes nearly blinding them. Jed squeezed her hand tighter, nodding to the crowd, then helping her into the back of the limo, completely ignoring the wild shouts for his attention. With a sigh, she sat back against the seat and closed her eyes in relief.
When she felt the warm weight in her lap, she opened her eyes again and saw that Jed offered her the baby, his hands still securely around him, but his face revealing the sacrifice involved in relinquishing the precious bundle. She leaned over and kissed him, their lips lingering on each other's for a long moment, their hands together holding this creation of their love.
"I love you," he said simply, kissing her again.
"I love you, too," she responded and considered the ease with which both statements had been made. No hesitation at all. No doubts.
Then they secured the baby in the car seat and he stirred slightly, grunting at the injustice of being confined under the protective belts. The car pulled away, quickly moving past cameramen who risked their lives to race down the side of the road as far as they could.
Jed eased back the blanket to look once more into his son's face. "Hey there, Thaddeus," he said.
Donna blinked. "Thaddeus?"
He shrugged sheepishly. "Just trying it out."
"I hope you're done trying it out."
"Don't like it, huh?"
"Thaddeus?"
"It means 'gift of God,'" he defended.
Well, the sentiment was good, but - She shook her head.
"Okay." At least he didn't protest. "What about Joseph?"
Joseph? Not bad. "Why Joseph?"
He grinned at her, his eyebrows bouncing suggestively. "It means 'God will increase.'"
And the lust on his face assured her he would be keeping track of her check- ups with the gynecologist. Six weeks, she had said. Six weeks. Well, he had once gone over a year. She figured he could manage for six weeks.
"What are you saying?" she asked, even though she thought she knew.
But his expression changed, his teasing tone gone, his voice suddenly unsure as his hand caressed the child's soft cheek. Maybe she didn't know what he was saying after all. "I, uh, I don't know. I suppose I wondered if maybe - well, that you might want - "
He broke off and she was surprised to read something that looked almost like fear in his eyes. The emotion, so uncharacteristic of him, threw her.
"Jed?"
A sigh lifted his shoulders and he turned to face her squarely. "Do you want more children, Donna?"
Well, that was sudden. She tried to recover to answer him, tried to think about how she really felt. How did he feel? What was he fishing for from her? If she said yes, would he be mad? Having a whole new family at his age, and with the question about the future of his health, maybe he would balk at more children. This child was, after all, not planned in the first place. They had not ever actually discussed having children.
"Do you?" she asked hesitantly, not sure if she wanted to hear his answer.
He looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "It's just that - I don't know how long - we don't know if - "
She swallowed when she comprehended exactly what he was saying. Ever since they had gotten past the lung scare, they had not looked back - or forward for that matter, had not faced the possibility of what might happen if his health took a turn for the worse.
"I don't want to burden you - "
"Shh." Her fingers moved automatically to his lips, silencing him. "I love you. And love this child. And I want to have more children with you, Jed Bartlet."
The emotions warred for dominance on his face.
"You tell me," she said, "if we didn't have the MS to worry about, would you want more children?"
"But we do - "
"Tell me."
He signed and she had to grit her teeth to hold the tears in check when she saw his eyes glisten. "I like this," he whispered seriously, sweeping a hand to include all three of them in the gesture. "And I want more. But I can't ask you to - "
"Listen to me. I pledged for better or worse. So did you. I can't deny a child life just because I don't know what the future holds. You are in good health, physically and mentally. And you're gonna be around for a long time to be their father."
"But - "
"We're going to live today. And today we have a new baby. Thaddeus Moon Unit Bartlet. And he's going to need a brother or sister - or both."
He allowed a smile to touch his lips and the lines of his shoulders fell in relief. "Okay."
He leaned across the car seat and kissed her, harder this time, with the usual passion they shared and she found herself responding despite the knowledge that it couldn't lead anywhere yet.
"Jed," she murmured against his mouth.
"Hmm?" His lips nibbled across her jaw.
Pulling back, she caught her breath and scolded, "I didn't actually mean that we should start trying NOW."
He grinned and lifted his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Well, I just didn't want to get out of practice."
He would never change. And she wouldn't have it any other way. "You just wait, Big Boy," she promised, pleased to see the desire sparkle in his eyes. "And it'll be well worth the wait."
"Hey."
Pulled back to the present, she opened her eyes to find Jed's gaze on her, his hand still behind her back, their son squirming against her. With a start, she realized the baby was protesting the loss of nourishment and she turned him around she that he could latch on to her other breast.
The fire still crackled, the soft lullabies still played in the background.
"You okay?" he asked, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek.
"Oh yeah," she assured him. "I'm great."
He chuckled and eased away from her, stepping to the fireplace to stoke the flames. "You know, C.J.'s after me to settle on a name. She says the world's getting antsy."
Even though Donna knew they needed to, she couldn't help the flash of irritation that surged through her. "Well, they can get antsy. It's not their baby."
He turned to her and smiled in understanding. "I know. But they sort of figure it is, in a way."
That was probably true. The world was anxious for a real look at the President's son. They had agreed to let C.J. arrange a two-week birthday photography session. Nothing extensive - and only limited exposure. But they hoped it would satisfy, or at least appease, the demanding public and press. It would be done right there in the Residence, probably against the backdrop of the fireplace and they had both agreed to make it casual, informal.
"You know, the Armenians have a name that means 'first son,'" he noted out of the blue.
Armenians? Dear Lord, what could that be? Her lifted brow gave him permission to say it.
"Antranig." Now how he managed that with a straight face, she'd never know.
"I like it." She could give as good as she got, though. And the momentary shock in his eyes was well worth it until she couldn't withhold her laughter any longer.
"Thank God," he breathed. "I thought for a minute you were serious."
"Yeah, well, I think you have been serious with some of those names. And they weren't much better - "
Finished with the fire, he knelt in front of her, bending to kiss the baby's forehead. Then he looked up and she saw the sincerity on his face. "Donna, I told you before, even when I thought he was a girl, I'll like whatever name you choose."
And she knew that, but this was his first son, after all. And despite his assurances to her before that it didn't matter a bit whether it was a boy or a girl, she could see the delight he took in having a son. No, she wanted him to name the baby. Wanted him to have that pleasure.
But there were limits. And Cleatus and Cicero were definitely outside those limits. So she remained content to hold Thaddeus Cleatus Cicero Antranig Bartlet and hope that at least by the time the child started kindergarten they might have finally agreed on something.
Jed had joined them again, snuggling next to his family, encircling them with both arms, almost settled when the knock at the door drew a fierce curse from his lips.
"Jed!" she said. "Don't say that in front of your son."
Even though he looked a little sheepish, he claimed, "It's a good word. He needs to know how to use it correctly."
Her response fell to a mumble as Leo entered, a huge yellow and brown giraffe nearly obscuring their view of him.
"Leo!" Jed greeted, the amusement clear in his voice. "Who's your friend?"
"Yeah, well, it was Margaret's idea. I told her it was too big - "
"Hey, Leo," Donna called. "It's perfect. That's so sweet. Just put it on the bed."
She covered the baby's head modestly as the chief of staff drew closer.
"Aw, geez," he said, turning quickly when he saw what he had interrupted. "I'll just come back - "
"No," Jed insisted, tugging him back in. "It's all right. A perfectly natural activity."
"Yeah, but - "
Donna rescued him. "It really is all right, Leo," she assured him as the baby's stomach bulged in satisfaction and she re-buttoned her blouse. Placing the child on her shoulder and patting his back gently, she called out, "I'm decent, now."
"If you're sure - "
"Get your ass in here," Jed ordered.
"Jed - "
"I know. I know. The baby." But he didn't sound too remorseful. Instead, he dragged his best friend over to stare at the newborn. "What do ya think?"
"Again, Mister President," Leo indulged him for at least the fifth time since they came home, "I think he is certainly the most impressive baby I have ever seen."
Donna laughed. "You sound a little coached there, Leo," she observed.
"Leo is always honest, aren't you?"
"Always."
Baby Bartlet chose that moment for a resounding burp.
"Again, very impressive," Leo acknowledged. "Where are Zoey and Ellie?" he asked, looking around.
All of Jed's girls had been there at some point since the birth. Liz and Annie had left a few days ago. Zoey and Ellie had hung around a bit longer, still in awe of their new brother.
"Ellie headed out this morning," Jed said, coming around to watch Leo watch his son. "Zoey's spending some time with Charlie. I think she's leaving tomorrow."
The chief of staff cooed softly at the infant, and the sheer strangeness of seeing Leo McGarry speaking in baby talk drew a giggle from Donna.
"What?" he protested, but didn't stop.
"Both of you are already totally and completely wrapped around this child's little finger," she decided.
The shrugged together. No need in denying it.
"You just come for a visit?" Jed asked, obviously sensing something more.
Without straightening, Leo said, "C.J.'s about to hold the press conference. Just thought you might want to watch."
They both sighed, knowing what he hinted at. It was Jed who responded. "Look, Leo, I know what you're pushing and it will happen. But not before we're ready, okay?"
His friend smiled. "Sure. It's just a little awkward, that's all, referring to the child of the President as 'the baby.' I was just checking to see if maybe - "
"Not yet," Donna said. "Not yet, Leo. We're working on it."
He didn't push it further. "Sure. Like I said, C.J. was just wondering."
"She'll be the first to know," Jed assured him as he left. Then he flicked on the television anyway.
The conference had begun already, and C.J. had apparently gotten the question first because she was already well into her explanation.
"I believe I did mention at the last conference that the President and Mrs. Bartlet simply had not expected a boy and did not have any names picked out for one."
"C.J.!"
"Sandy?"
"Why were they so sure?"
Now C.J. grinned and Donna knew what was coming. She had been the press secretary's informant on this information. "The President knew it would be a girl."
"But it wasn't."
"I know."
"But - "
"I'm saying that the President KNEW it would be a girl. And the President is never wrong about things like that so - "
Jed winced at the reminder as the room chuckled, their familiarity with this President evident. Another hand went up.
"Steve?" C.J. recognized.
"When do they anticipate having a name?"
"I'm sure they are working on that even now," she assured them and the world. "I will add that we have had over two hundred thousand suggestions arrive by mail or email from all over the world and the President and Mrs. Bartlet are considering many of those."
Part of that was true. There were almost a quarter of a million helpful world citizens that had contacted the White House about the baby's name. But Jed and Donna had not really considered them, even though some weren't that bad. They just wanted to do this themselves. But C.J. was a press secretary, and that bit of information certainly wouldn't hurt.
"Okay. Monday the First Family will pose for a very brief photo shoot. We'll have those prints to you by Tuesday morning and if you're very good, I'll see about having the baby autograph them."
More chuckles.
She looked over her glasses. "All right, that's a full lid. Thanks."
But just as she closed her notebook, they saw Carol step up and slip her a half-sized sheet of paper. Donna watched Jed tense as C.J.'s face froze.
"Okay. Hang on," she advised quietly. "I have information here that a plane has gone down just outside of Chicago. It had apparently just taken off from O'Hare. Possibly a Boeing 757, but that's not confirmed. There is suspected - " She broke off, her face flushing. "That's all I have for now. We'll update you as soon as we know more." Almost before she had finished, they press room erupted into a Chinese fire drill with reporters dashing this way and that to check on the story.
"Why did she stop?" Donna asked, already suspecting and dreading the answer.
But her husband's response didn't come before the door opened again and Leo stepped in, his face holding a much different expression than it had only moments ago.
"Mister President," he greeted formally. That wasn't good.
Jed lifted his chin in that characteristic gesture of acknowledgement.
"I need you in the Sit Room, sir." That wasn't good, either.
"The plane?" he asked.
Leo nodded. "United Flight 105. A Boeing 757. It apparently exploded as it departed O'Hare. We've got casualties on the ground, too."
Jed's eyes closed for a moment, in prayer she knew. When he opened them, he braced his hand against the sofa back and asked, "How many passengers?"
"A 757 can carry about two hundred and fifty. I don't know how many were on it today. I do know that it also carries eleven thousand gallons of fuel and it had just taken off, headed to Los Angeles."
She saw Jed's jaw clench with his next question. "Terrorists?"
Leo's expression didn't change, but he said, "Possibly."
Dear God. Jed nodded and moved back to kiss her, then kiss his son, before he disappeared through the doors with his chief of staff.
The music continued, its gentleness and sweetness blatant contrast to the disturbing news. Clutching the baby closer to her, she rose and settled in the rocking chair Jed had sent for from Manchester. In this chair, he had rocked all of his children and now she rocked another. And she prayed for him and for the child and for their country and for their world. It was a long time before she could bring herself to lay the baby in his bassinette.
And after she did, she sat by the fire and waited.
"As I Was Drifting Away" "In Your Eyes" "Some Say" "Stony Limits" "Beauty and Honor" "Loves' Creation" "Jewel of Their Souls"
Thanks for the feedback and for reading!
POV: Donna Spoilers: None, really, except the other stories in this series Rating: PG Disclaimer: Jed, Donna, C.J. and the rest are AS's creation, but I created the baby. (Well, Jed and Donna did with a little help from me.)
Jewel of Their Souls - Chapter One
A West Wing Story
by MAHC
"You know, there are some good names in my family's history."
Donna looked up at her husband and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. The warm fire blazed in front of them as they sat on the couch in the Residence, their son held to her breast, suckling greedily. Gentle sounds from an instrumental CD of children's songs floated around them.
All right, she had been kidding about Moon Unit, but she wasn't at all sure that some of his suggestions were given in the same spirit of jest. "Such as?"
His eyes lit with the rare bit of encouragement she threw him. "Well, the first Josiah Bartlet, the signer of the Declaration of Independence had four sons, two of whom were named Josiah."
"Two?"
"The first died young, so he named the next one Josiah, too."
"Okay. You want to name him Josiah Junior?"
He shook his head. "Nah. He needs his own identity."
She agreed, but she had no problem with her husband's name. She liked it quite a bit, actually. It had a richness that spoke of history and significance. But his rejection meant he was proposing something else. "What," she asked warily, "were the others?"
"Ezra."
"Ezra?"
"It means 'helper' in Hebrew."
"You knew that off the top of your head?"
He shrugged.
"What's the other?"
"Levi."
"Ezra and Levi?"
"What do you think?"
"Let's re-visit Moon Unit."
He sighed and she joined him as they watched their child press a tiny fist against his mother. The first-born son of the President of the United States was ten days old now, home from the hospital for more than half his life and still not named. They had just been so shocked that it was not a girl that they had not prepared at all for a male heir to the Bartlet legacy.
"You know," she reminded him, "this is all your fault."
"My fault?" His brow lifted in innocence.
"Yes, Mister 'I know it's a girl'. Your fault."
He grinned, accepting the blame. "I'm still a little stunned about it myself."
She didn't know if he meant the baby being a boy or his being wrong, but she didn't mind because at that moment she was bathed in the warm tenderness on his face as he watched his wife and child. One hand rested lightly on the infant's head, the other circled her waist, which was gradually becoming visible again.
"He is beautiful, isn't he?" he observed.
She looked at the baby, his blonde hair swirling gently on his head, his even features already resembling those of his father. Shifting her own hand to rest on her husband's, she agreed. "He certainly is."
"You know," he said, in a disarming tone that raised her defenses again, "Cicero was an amazing fellow. Greek historian - "
"No."
"But - "
"No."
"Okay." He took it in stride. She had already shot down at least 65 suggestions already, but he seemed prepared to continue valiantly. "Cleatus means 'illustrious' - "
Choosing not to acknowledge that one, she just smiled fondly and kissed him and they both sat in silence, content to absorb the precious moment a little longer. As the solitude lengthened, her thoughts swam back to a week earlier.
The homecoming had been a madhouse. It seemed all of America was smitten with their new prince and the press clamored for one glimpse of the child, one word from the parents. C.J. had been forced to take a firm stand regarding access. Their exodus from the hospital proved to be only a portent of the frenzy that would follow.
It was a crisp fall day, only two weeks away from Thanksgiving, when mother and baby had been released, both doing well. Donna took special care in dressing her son in the blue Feltman Brothers gown that seemed to be the required dress for newborns. Then she blanketed him in the same color and allowed Jed to carry him for his first exposure to the waiting world.
When they neared the door, she gasped at the sight of the massive crowd just beyond the entrance. Hundreds of cameras and microphones were set up as close as C.J. had allowed. Her experiences with the media had been less than pleasant, and she drew in a deep breath to steel herself against the onslaught. Jed must have sensed her unease, because he shifted his son snugly into the crook of his right arm and reached down to grip her hand in his.
"It's all right," he assured her softly. "C.J.'s got things under control."
She had every confidence in C.J., but that didn't ease her apprehension in the least. She bore a new mother's neurotic anxiety over everything. The pavilion would collapse; the car would run over them; the reporters would rush them and trample them. She couldn't help it. It was hormonal.
Still, logically, she realized he was right. Rising from the obligatory wheelchair at the entrance, she stood with her husband and child, smiling as best she could as the cameras exploded, the barrage of flashes nearly blinding them. Jed squeezed her hand tighter, nodding to the crowd, then helping her into the back of the limo, completely ignoring the wild shouts for his attention. With a sigh, she sat back against the seat and closed her eyes in relief.
When she felt the warm weight in her lap, she opened her eyes again and saw that Jed offered her the baby, his hands still securely around him, but his face revealing the sacrifice involved in relinquishing the precious bundle. She leaned over and kissed him, their lips lingering on each other's for a long moment, their hands together holding this creation of their love.
"I love you," he said simply, kissing her again.
"I love you, too," she responded and considered the ease with which both statements had been made. No hesitation at all. No doubts.
Then they secured the baby in the car seat and he stirred slightly, grunting at the injustice of being confined under the protective belts. The car pulled away, quickly moving past cameramen who risked their lives to race down the side of the road as far as they could.
Jed eased back the blanket to look once more into his son's face. "Hey there, Thaddeus," he said.
Donna blinked. "Thaddeus?"
He shrugged sheepishly. "Just trying it out."
"I hope you're done trying it out."
"Don't like it, huh?"
"Thaddeus?"
"It means 'gift of God,'" he defended.
Well, the sentiment was good, but - She shook her head.
"Okay." At least he didn't protest. "What about Joseph?"
Joseph? Not bad. "Why Joseph?"
He grinned at her, his eyebrows bouncing suggestively. "It means 'God will increase.'"
And the lust on his face assured her he would be keeping track of her check- ups with the gynecologist. Six weeks, she had said. Six weeks. Well, he had once gone over a year. She figured he could manage for six weeks.
"What are you saying?" she asked, even though she thought she knew.
But his expression changed, his teasing tone gone, his voice suddenly unsure as his hand caressed the child's soft cheek. Maybe she didn't know what he was saying after all. "I, uh, I don't know. I suppose I wondered if maybe - well, that you might want - "
He broke off and she was surprised to read something that looked almost like fear in his eyes. The emotion, so uncharacteristic of him, threw her.
"Jed?"
A sigh lifted his shoulders and he turned to face her squarely. "Do you want more children, Donna?"
Well, that was sudden. She tried to recover to answer him, tried to think about how she really felt. How did he feel? What was he fishing for from her? If she said yes, would he be mad? Having a whole new family at his age, and with the question about the future of his health, maybe he would balk at more children. This child was, after all, not planned in the first place. They had not ever actually discussed having children.
"Do you?" she asked hesitantly, not sure if she wanted to hear his answer.
He looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "It's just that - I don't know how long - we don't know if - "
She swallowed when she comprehended exactly what he was saying. Ever since they had gotten past the lung scare, they had not looked back - or forward for that matter, had not faced the possibility of what might happen if his health took a turn for the worse.
"I don't want to burden you - "
"Shh." Her fingers moved automatically to his lips, silencing him. "I love you. And love this child. And I want to have more children with you, Jed Bartlet."
The emotions warred for dominance on his face.
"You tell me," she said, "if we didn't have the MS to worry about, would you want more children?"
"But we do - "
"Tell me."
He signed and she had to grit her teeth to hold the tears in check when she saw his eyes glisten. "I like this," he whispered seriously, sweeping a hand to include all three of them in the gesture. "And I want more. But I can't ask you to - "
"Listen to me. I pledged for better or worse. So did you. I can't deny a child life just because I don't know what the future holds. You are in good health, physically and mentally. And you're gonna be around for a long time to be their father."
"But - "
"We're going to live today. And today we have a new baby. Thaddeus Moon Unit Bartlet. And he's going to need a brother or sister - or both."
He allowed a smile to touch his lips and the lines of his shoulders fell in relief. "Okay."
He leaned across the car seat and kissed her, harder this time, with the usual passion they shared and she found herself responding despite the knowledge that it couldn't lead anywhere yet.
"Jed," she murmured against his mouth.
"Hmm?" His lips nibbled across her jaw.
Pulling back, she caught her breath and scolded, "I didn't actually mean that we should start trying NOW."
He grinned and lifted his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Well, I just didn't want to get out of practice."
He would never change. And she wouldn't have it any other way. "You just wait, Big Boy," she promised, pleased to see the desire sparkle in his eyes. "And it'll be well worth the wait."
"Hey."
Pulled back to the present, she opened her eyes to find Jed's gaze on her, his hand still behind her back, their son squirming against her. With a start, she realized the baby was protesting the loss of nourishment and she turned him around she that he could latch on to her other breast.
The fire still crackled, the soft lullabies still played in the background.
"You okay?" he asked, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek.
"Oh yeah," she assured him. "I'm great."
He chuckled and eased away from her, stepping to the fireplace to stoke the flames. "You know, C.J.'s after me to settle on a name. She says the world's getting antsy."
Even though Donna knew they needed to, she couldn't help the flash of irritation that surged through her. "Well, they can get antsy. It's not their baby."
He turned to her and smiled in understanding. "I know. But they sort of figure it is, in a way."
That was probably true. The world was anxious for a real look at the President's son. They had agreed to let C.J. arrange a two-week birthday photography session. Nothing extensive - and only limited exposure. But they hoped it would satisfy, or at least appease, the demanding public and press. It would be done right there in the Residence, probably against the backdrop of the fireplace and they had both agreed to make it casual, informal.
"You know, the Armenians have a name that means 'first son,'" he noted out of the blue.
Armenians? Dear Lord, what could that be? Her lifted brow gave him permission to say it.
"Antranig." Now how he managed that with a straight face, she'd never know.
"I like it." She could give as good as she got, though. And the momentary shock in his eyes was well worth it until she couldn't withhold her laughter any longer.
"Thank God," he breathed. "I thought for a minute you were serious."
"Yeah, well, I think you have been serious with some of those names. And they weren't much better - "
Finished with the fire, he knelt in front of her, bending to kiss the baby's forehead. Then he looked up and she saw the sincerity on his face. "Donna, I told you before, even when I thought he was a girl, I'll like whatever name you choose."
And she knew that, but this was his first son, after all. And despite his assurances to her before that it didn't matter a bit whether it was a boy or a girl, she could see the delight he took in having a son. No, she wanted him to name the baby. Wanted him to have that pleasure.
But there were limits. And Cleatus and Cicero were definitely outside those limits. So she remained content to hold Thaddeus Cleatus Cicero Antranig Bartlet and hope that at least by the time the child started kindergarten they might have finally agreed on something.
Jed had joined them again, snuggling next to his family, encircling them with both arms, almost settled when the knock at the door drew a fierce curse from his lips.
"Jed!" she said. "Don't say that in front of your son."
Even though he looked a little sheepish, he claimed, "It's a good word. He needs to know how to use it correctly."
Her response fell to a mumble as Leo entered, a huge yellow and brown giraffe nearly obscuring their view of him.
"Leo!" Jed greeted, the amusement clear in his voice. "Who's your friend?"
"Yeah, well, it was Margaret's idea. I told her it was too big - "
"Hey, Leo," Donna called. "It's perfect. That's so sweet. Just put it on the bed."
She covered the baby's head modestly as the chief of staff drew closer.
"Aw, geez," he said, turning quickly when he saw what he had interrupted. "I'll just come back - "
"No," Jed insisted, tugging him back in. "It's all right. A perfectly natural activity."
"Yeah, but - "
Donna rescued him. "It really is all right, Leo," she assured him as the baby's stomach bulged in satisfaction and she re-buttoned her blouse. Placing the child on her shoulder and patting his back gently, she called out, "I'm decent, now."
"If you're sure - "
"Get your ass in here," Jed ordered.
"Jed - "
"I know. I know. The baby." But he didn't sound too remorseful. Instead, he dragged his best friend over to stare at the newborn. "What do ya think?"
"Again, Mister President," Leo indulged him for at least the fifth time since they came home, "I think he is certainly the most impressive baby I have ever seen."
Donna laughed. "You sound a little coached there, Leo," she observed.
"Leo is always honest, aren't you?"
"Always."
Baby Bartlet chose that moment for a resounding burp.
"Again, very impressive," Leo acknowledged. "Where are Zoey and Ellie?" he asked, looking around.
All of Jed's girls had been there at some point since the birth. Liz and Annie had left a few days ago. Zoey and Ellie had hung around a bit longer, still in awe of their new brother.
"Ellie headed out this morning," Jed said, coming around to watch Leo watch his son. "Zoey's spending some time with Charlie. I think she's leaving tomorrow."
The chief of staff cooed softly at the infant, and the sheer strangeness of seeing Leo McGarry speaking in baby talk drew a giggle from Donna.
"What?" he protested, but didn't stop.
"Both of you are already totally and completely wrapped around this child's little finger," she decided.
The shrugged together. No need in denying it.
"You just come for a visit?" Jed asked, obviously sensing something more.
Without straightening, Leo said, "C.J.'s about to hold the press conference. Just thought you might want to watch."
They both sighed, knowing what he hinted at. It was Jed who responded. "Look, Leo, I know what you're pushing and it will happen. But not before we're ready, okay?"
His friend smiled. "Sure. It's just a little awkward, that's all, referring to the child of the President as 'the baby.' I was just checking to see if maybe - "
"Not yet," Donna said. "Not yet, Leo. We're working on it."
He didn't push it further. "Sure. Like I said, C.J. was just wondering."
"She'll be the first to know," Jed assured him as he left. Then he flicked on the television anyway.
The conference had begun already, and C.J. had apparently gotten the question first because she was already well into her explanation.
"I believe I did mention at the last conference that the President and Mrs. Bartlet simply had not expected a boy and did not have any names picked out for one."
"C.J.!"
"Sandy?"
"Why were they so sure?"
Now C.J. grinned and Donna knew what was coming. She had been the press secretary's informant on this information. "The President knew it would be a girl."
"But it wasn't."
"I know."
"But - "
"I'm saying that the President KNEW it would be a girl. And the President is never wrong about things like that so - "
Jed winced at the reminder as the room chuckled, their familiarity with this President evident. Another hand went up.
"Steve?" C.J. recognized.
"When do they anticipate having a name?"
"I'm sure they are working on that even now," she assured them and the world. "I will add that we have had over two hundred thousand suggestions arrive by mail or email from all over the world and the President and Mrs. Bartlet are considering many of those."
Part of that was true. There were almost a quarter of a million helpful world citizens that had contacted the White House about the baby's name. But Jed and Donna had not really considered them, even though some weren't that bad. They just wanted to do this themselves. But C.J. was a press secretary, and that bit of information certainly wouldn't hurt.
"Okay. Monday the First Family will pose for a very brief photo shoot. We'll have those prints to you by Tuesday morning and if you're very good, I'll see about having the baby autograph them."
More chuckles.
She looked over her glasses. "All right, that's a full lid. Thanks."
But just as she closed her notebook, they saw Carol step up and slip her a half-sized sheet of paper. Donna watched Jed tense as C.J.'s face froze.
"Okay. Hang on," she advised quietly. "I have information here that a plane has gone down just outside of Chicago. It had apparently just taken off from O'Hare. Possibly a Boeing 757, but that's not confirmed. There is suspected - " She broke off, her face flushing. "That's all I have for now. We'll update you as soon as we know more." Almost before she had finished, they press room erupted into a Chinese fire drill with reporters dashing this way and that to check on the story.
"Why did she stop?" Donna asked, already suspecting and dreading the answer.
But her husband's response didn't come before the door opened again and Leo stepped in, his face holding a much different expression than it had only moments ago.
"Mister President," he greeted formally. That wasn't good.
Jed lifted his chin in that characteristic gesture of acknowledgement.
"I need you in the Sit Room, sir." That wasn't good, either.
"The plane?" he asked.
Leo nodded. "United Flight 105. A Boeing 757. It apparently exploded as it departed O'Hare. We've got casualties on the ground, too."
Jed's eyes closed for a moment, in prayer she knew. When he opened them, he braced his hand against the sofa back and asked, "How many passengers?"
"A 757 can carry about two hundred and fifty. I don't know how many were on it today. I do know that it also carries eleven thousand gallons of fuel and it had just taken off, headed to Los Angeles."
She saw Jed's jaw clench with his next question. "Terrorists?"
Leo's expression didn't change, but he said, "Possibly."
Dear God. Jed nodded and moved back to kiss her, then kiss his son, before he disappeared through the doors with his chief of staff.
The music continued, its gentleness and sweetness blatant contrast to the disturbing news. Clutching the baby closer to her, she rose and settled in the rocking chair Jed had sent for from Manchester. In this chair, he had rocked all of his children and now she rocked another. And she prayed for him and for the child and for their country and for their world. It was a long time before she could bring herself to lay the baby in his bassinette.
And after she did, she sat by the fire and waited.