This is the last chapter in this story. The next story that follows is
"All the Way." Thanks for the feedback and encouragement for this series.
POV: Donna
Spoilers : Night Five; Holy Night (only a reference, really)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Gino Moss and Jed's and Donna's child are my creations. Everyone else belongs to AS.
Jewel of Their Souls - Chapter Three
A West Wing Story
by MAHC
This could not be happening. This could absolutely not be happening.
Donna stared at the surreal scene:
Ron Butterfield holding her brother in a choke-hold.
The entire table frozen with astonishment so sharp even the clock had stopped ticking.
And the President of the United States lying flat on his back on the floor, arms flung out, one leg bent, one straight.
Where had it all fallen apart?
She couldn't breathe for a moment, couldn't propel her shocked brain into sending the message to her lungs to perform that necessary function. Then the gasp came, throwing her forward with an involuntary lunge.
"Jed!" she cried, rushing through the doorway and falling to his side, her hands already touching his face, brushing back the hair.
At the same time she heard Ellie yelp, "Dad!" and looked up to see the middle Bartlet daughter drop to her knees on his other side.
For an interminably tense moment nothing happened. Please, Donna pleaded. Please be okay.
Then with a very clear, very precise interjection, the President of the United States managed to prop himself on his elbows, one hand pressed to his jaw, a trickle of blood running from his bottom lip down his chin. The reddened flesh already swelled eagerly.
Her first reaction was to laugh in relief. Her second was to fight the urge to inflict fatal damage on her brother.
"Gino Moss, you idiot!" she snapped, swinging around to confront him. But the instant she saw the white face, the unconcealed fear marking it, she stopped. He certainly had not intended to floor the President of the United States - and his new brother-in-law - with that punch. Almost limp in the secure grip of Agent Butterfield, he was blatantly terrified.
Ellie was trying to check the injury, making every attempt to evaluate the damage, but her patient did not cooperate. Shrugging off her assistance, and that of two agents, he stood on his own, grunting slightly as he probed the injured area.
The rest of her family sat in stunned silence. Her mother looked as if she might faint right there on the spot. Her father was decidedly ashen.
Oh God. She didn't think Jed would actually kill Gino, but she wasn't sure what he would do - not that he didn't deserve whatever was coming to him, but she really didn't want to see a family feud right here in the White House - on Thanksgiving of all days.
He stepped toward his brother-in-law, unaware or uninterested in the steady drip of blood that stained his gray sweater. Donna braced for the reaction. She didn't even figure Ron would stop him.
But as he drew nearer, his eyes refocused, and she watched the automatic emotion of anger give way to a forced calm.
"Mister President?" Ron asked quietly, not budging an inch from his tight grip.
Jed nodded, wincing as the movement caused him some pain. "It's okay, Ron," he said. "Let him go."
With obvious reluctance, the agent released Gino, who somehow managed to remain upright.
They stood facing each other for a moment before the younger man finally found his voice. "Mister President, I - "
"Jed."
Donna turned to stare at her husband. Gino stumbled, equally confused. "Sir?"
And miraculously, a smile curved the President's lips, albeit a one-sided one. "My name is Jed. Since we're family now, you should just call me 'Jed'."
She did not believe her brother could have been more stunned if Jed had laid him flat with a right cross. He swallowed once, then twice.
"But - after - after I - "
A shrug lifted the Presidential shoulders. "It was an accident. I understand. Donna said her brother was - demonstrative."
Interesting way to phrase it, she thought, smiling in amazement, realizing she still had much to learn about her husband. Gino just nodded numbly.
"But," Jed continued, the crooked smile still in place, "no promises next time."
Assuming Gino ever screwed up enough courage to step foot in the White House again before Jed's term ended.
The young man gathered himself and took a tentative step forward. "Mister Pres - "
The President frowned and lifted a hand in protest.
"J - Jed," Gino managed. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe - I just - "
Maturity and experience enabled Jed to utilize wit in putting his brother- in-law at ease. "Well," he said, lifting a brow seriously, "we were going to name the baby after you, but you can forget it now."
"Yes, sir," Gino stammered.
Zoey was the first one to laugh, breaking the brittle tension with her cackle. Annie and Liz followed, joined by Donna's dad. Only her mother, Ellie, and Gino still seemed unable to find any humor in the situation.
Someone pulled up a chair and helped Jed into it. Charlie disappeared, then reappeared carrying an icepack. The jaw had swollen significantly now and Donna gently pressed a washcloth to his split lip. Obviously, Gino had not been as effective in any of his real fights; otherwise, he'd still be in the ring. Of course, it helped that Jed had no idea he was about to be slugged by his wife's brother.
A shadow appeared over her shoulder. She didn't have to turn to sense her mother's presence. Certain things are just instinctual.
"Mister President - " she began.
Through the ice pack and cloth, her son-in-law mumbled, "Jed."
"Well, Je - well, I just want to - I just - "
This was a first. Her mother, full of advice and opinions, found herself stumbling painfully over any coherence. Despite her amusement, and a little embarrassment, Donna bailed her out.
"I think," she proposed, "that Mom is offering to deliver Gino for sacrifice to whatever government agency you want to be responsible for his extermination."
That drew a momentarily horrified gulp from her brother, a humiliated semi- agreement from her mother, and a careful chuckle from her husband.
"Car'st un I 'ow is I R Eh."
"Smooth talker," Donna smirked, pulling the pack away so he could repeat his jibberish.
"I said, 'the scariest one I know is the IRS.'"
They all nodded solemnly, not even considering the words a joke. Ellie eased beside her and coaxed her father into letting her look at the wound.
After a moment of probing, ignoring his grunts of protest, she pronounced, "Nothing broken. The contusion is going to be quite pretty in a couple of days. A nice laceration inside your mouth, but not bad enough for stitches." Standing, she prescribed, "Rinse with alcohol for a few days."
Donna braced, fully expecting a question from Jed, a contradiction of his daughter's diagnosis. From the little she had been around when they interacted, she knew, for some reason, both seemed to play off each other's irritations. But he surprised her, and apparently Ellie, as well.
"What brand?"
"Huh?"
"What brand of alcohol, Doctor Bartlet?" he asked, eye twinkling.
And amazingly, Ellie gifted them all with a rare smile. "Dad, you are - " But she stopped and shook her head. "Vodka's your best bet - but only for medicinal purposes."
Who would have thought it? Eleanor Bartlet had a sense of humor.
"Yes, ma'm," her father replied, his voice light. But Donna saw the contradictory flash of sadness in his eyes. It disappeared quickly, but it had been there, and she realized Ellie had brought back memories of Abbey - had even sounded like Abbey.
She tried to push past the irrational flush of jealousy, knowing his unconscious slip from that morning still weighed on her mind, still threw unsupported doubts of his love between them.
Donna rocked her son gently as he nursed, enjoying the company of Zoey Bartlet, who had sneaked out with her after a curious peace had fallen on their interrupted Thanksgiving meal.
"How's Dad's jaw?" she asked, only a hint of concern mixed with a great deal of amusement.
Donna tried not to smile. Jed probably didn't think it was too funny. "It's okay. Bruised. C.J. will have an interesting time explaining it."
"Well, it's not the first time - " she began absently, then stopped and bit her lip.
Something clicked in Donna's head. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I'll just get back to the - "
But Donna didn't let her rise. She had questions, and it looked as if Zoey could provide answers.
"Zoey, tell me something. Did something happen between your father and his father?"
Her companion flushed and fidgeted in the chair. "What do you - "
Sensing she was on the trail, Donna pushed, "Maybe when he was young?"
Now it was Zoey's turn. She hesitated, clenching her jaw before she spoke. "Why - why are you asking?"
"A couple of nights ago, your dad was restless - tossing and talking in his sleep. He was dreaming about something - or someone." She wouldn't mention his calling Abbey's name from last night. "And he sounded hurt - or scared. He called out 'Dad,' then 'Father.'"
For a moment she thought the youngest Bartlet daughter would feign ignorance, but after a long silence, she nodded and reached out to stroke her brother's foot.
"I don't know everything," she began quietly, the pain and anger for her father's childhood experience bleeding through the tone. "But once, when I was older, Mom told me that my grandfather - well - abused him."
Damn it. Donna's heart ached for the young boy she had never known as well as the man she loved.
"Mostly it was emotional, I think." She laughed once, a short, sarcastic sound that contained no humor. "Dad could never do enough to please him, to make him proud. Imagine that. Do you know what he made on his SATs?"
Donna shook her head.
"800/790."
Dear Lord. Surely she was kidding. But Zoey's expression remained completely serious. Donna didn't even know it was truly possible to score that high.
"A Ph D, an honored professor, a Nobel Prize winner, congressman, governor. He didn't live to see him become President, but somehow I don't think it would have changed anything."
How could that be? How could anyone not be proud to have Josiah Bartlet as a son?
Zoey's tone darkened now. "Sometimes it was physical. I found that out later. He hit him." She shook her head. "I can't imagine that. Daddy never - I mean never - lifted a hand to us girls. Any whippings we got - and they were generally well deserved - came from Mom."
"Why - "
She shrugged. "I don't know. Mom said he was jealous of Daddy. Jealous because Daddy was smarter than he was, angry because Daddy had his own ideas, couldn't be manipulated into another John Bartlet."
Donna brushed the soft hair on her son's head. My God. How could such a tremendous person have developed under such an upbringing? "I didn't know," she whispered. "He's never - "
"He's never talked with me about it, either. I wouldn't know except for Mom."
"I love him very much, Zoey." She didn't know why it seemed important to say that then, but it was.
Jed Bartlet's smile came back at her through his daughter. "I know. I'm glad he has you, Donna."
"Hey! You ladies are missing dessert," called the voice of the man whose life they were analyzing. "Pumpkin pie or coconut cake." His body followed his voice and he appeared in the doorway. Donna noted that a purple splotch had already begun to discolor his jaw.
"We can't have both?" Donna asked, throwing off the ache Zoey's revelation had brought.
"Well, it'll cost you," he said, lowering his voice seductively, completely ignoring the fact that his youngest daughter was present. But Zoey just rolled her eyes.
"Cost me what?" Donna wondered daringly.
He wagged his brow. "We'll discuss your payment later, my dear."
She colored. "Jed!"
"Don't worry about it, Donna," Zoey assured her, rising to pass by her father and slap him lightly on the arm. "I'm used to it. He and Mo - " Her words tumbled to silence. Hurrying out, she mumbled, "Don't worry about it."
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Jed tried to regain the lightness. Donna let him. This was not something she wanted to discuss now.
"Coming?" he asked, hopefully.
"As soon as the doctor lets me," she returned, leering back at him with his own seductive expression.
He grinned. "Counting the days, Baby."
So was she.
They sat alone in the Residence, just the two of them and the baby, the excitement of the day worn down to a well-earned stillness, a satisfied, exhausted silence that didn't bother either of them at all. Her family was settled in their rooms, her mom no doubt making poor Gino pay dearly for his blunder. His had returned to their homes, getting away before the predicted snowfall. Just the three of them now.
She concentrated on listening to the deep breaths of her two men, Jed's even and heavy, the baby's faster, but steady. The infant lay in his bassinette, gathering up his energy for an early wake up; he had settled into a 10:00, 2:00, and 4:00 pattern, which Donna figured could be worse. At least he slept in between feedings.
She and Jed lay on the couch, facing each other, their legs entwined. But she was the only Bartlet with her eyes open. She took the rare moment to study her husband's face. Even battered he was handsome, but she winced at the clear damage. If Gino had not already looked as if he would have jumped off the Washington Monument, given half a chance, she would have pushed him herself. The swollen purple bruise marred his jaw just to the left of his chin, and his lip pushed out a bit with the torn flesh. She resisted the urge to kiss him - no need to cause pain just to satisfy some maternal instinct on her part.
As she gazed at him, breathing deeply with a surge of emotion at the love she felt, Zoey's words returned to disrupt her contentment: "He hit him - I can't imagine that."
Neither could Donna - couldn't envision anyone deliberately hurting a child. Couldn't understand why someone - and not just someone, but his FATHER - could feel so much envy that he would hurt Jed. Again, a swell of protective fury flushed her face and she truly believed that she would have taken the fireplace poker to John Bartlet if he had appeared that moment.
A leg dragged over hers suddenly with a jerk, and Donna re-focused on his face. The peace that had been present was now disturbed with a tensing of his mouth, his brow. His head twisted from side to side.
"No!" The cry, identical to the one she had heard only a few nights before, was ragged, desperate. "Please! Why do you - Sir! Don't!"
Then he flinched and threw his arm in front of him, inadvertently hitting his jaw. The cry of pain was real. In one move, Donna leaped from her position and grabbed his wrists.
"Jed!" she called, her body pulled forward as he jerked away from the restraints. She tried to hold on, but he broke her grip easily. Now she fell to her only recourse. With gentle fingers, she smoothed the furrowed forehead, kissed the tiny scar at his brow - the one he acquired in her apartment, the one that was physical evidence of his reaction to the news of her pregnancy.
"Jed!" she called again, hoping she wouldn't have to scramble for secret service help.
Finally, his thrashing stilled, his cries silenced, and his eyes opened slowly. "Donna?"
"Yeah, Big Boy," she smiled. "You okay?"
Grimacing, he sat and dabbed gingerly at his jaw. "I don't know why Gino didn't win more fights," he observed ruefully.
She laughed. "His other opponents knew they were in a fight."
"Ah. Next time I'd like some warning, then."
"I'll see what I can do."
She watched him for another minute or two, then gave in to the deep need to know - to help - to reassure, perhaps. He might not react well, she knew, but she had to try, anyway.
"Jed?"
He had leaned back on the couch, still testing how sore his jaw was. "Hmm?"
Deep breath. Do it. "Tell me about your father."
Those eyes that generally held such warmth, such love, cooled instantly. A hard steely glint shone in them, and she almost recoiled at the sight. "I don't want to talk about him," he stated flatly, standing to face away from her.
But she had done the worst part now - couldn't stop here. As much as she wanted to go to him, to touch him, she stayed put. "I know - I know something happened," she said softly, hoping the compassion and love didn't sound to him like pity. "I know - there were problems."
"Everybody has problems," he muttered, still turned.
"Not like the ones you had."
Now he spun, and the fury on his face scared her - the first time she had ever felt fear for herself in his presence. "What the hell do you know about the problems I had?" he snapped, then lowered his voice when the baby stirred. "What the hell do you know about it?"
She knew he wouldn't hit her - that was never a thought. But the tone of his voice almost made her retreat. Nevertheless, she didn't. In fact, she stood to face him.
"I know, Jed," she said, her voice gentle. "You - have had nightmares recently. One just a few minutes ago. You called out - you said - well, I could tell."
His face had changed, the anger collapsing into horror at her words.
"So I asked Zoey." When she saw his eyes narrow, she added quickly, "She didn't want to tell me at first, but I pressed. I wanted to know. I wanted to help."
The sudden surge of emotion drained from his body and he dropped back to the couch, head in his hands. God, she wanted to hold him, to comfort him, but something told her to wait, to let him make the next move. Five minutes ticked off the clock before he finally spoke.
"I've never told you - " he began, then stopped as his voice broke.
She forced the swell of protectiveness back, knowing he didn't need to see pity in her eyes. And it wasn't pity, exactly. It was anger; it was outrage; it was incredulity at a man who would treat a child like John Bartlet had treated Jed.
He tried again. "I never told you about my relationship with my father."
It wasn't a question, but she shook her head anyway.
His eyes shifted away from her to stare out the window, his thoughts perhaps flying back forty years. Finally, he sighed and conceded, "It was - complicated."
Her hand slid to his, encouraging, reassuring, and he managed to smile weakly. But it grew as he let his gaze slide to the blue and white bassinette.
"I think he wanted to be good," he said abruptly. "Meant to be good, but - but there was just - something that - " He looked up again. "He didn't like me, Donna."
Tears burned her eyes.
"I'm not sure why. I certainly tried to - Stanley says I'm still trying to - " But he stopped without finishing the confession.
She knew he talked with Stanley Keyworth occasionally. Didn't know why, exactly - just figured he needed to relieve the unbelievable stresses he bore. But now things made sense. Now, she understood more. Now, she ached to do something, to ease the naked hurt in his eyes, to destroy the spectre of a miserable childhood and cruel father. But she kept silent, letting him work it out himself, waiting for him to make the decision of what to tell her.
He leaned on his elbows, not looking at her. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. "Abbey always said he was insecure, and he didn't know what to do with a child who was - well - who was smarter than he was. And she was the one who showed me what I could be. Who made me realize I couldn't let him hold me back. Abbey - and Leo - " As if he suddenly realized he had brought up something uncomfortable, he cocked his head toward her.
"Donna," he whispered, reaching out to catch her hand in his. "Donna, I - I think this morning I said - " The furrow between his brows deepened. "I think I called - "
Her slight nod confirmed it.
"I'm sorry. I was dreaming - I was dreaming that - well, it happens sometimes. It used to happen a lot. Every night, and I would wake from a world where she was with me, in my arms, and be in a world where I had no one. And every single time I got sick - literally sick when I remembered she was gone."
"Jed - " She wasn't sure she wanted to hear this, but he needed to say it, so she wanted to reassure him. He didn't let her continue, though.
"I can't promise you the dreams will stop. I have no control over that. But I can promise you that I love you very much. And I dream of you every night. I dream of holding you and making love to you. And I dream of us watching our son grow. " Now he had both of her hands in his and the rich emotion in his voice told her even more than his words could. "You are my wife, Donna Bartlet. You aren't replacing anyone. You are the First Lady of the United States, and you are mother to our son - and you are my wife."
"Oh Jed," she smiled through the tears. "I love you. I love you so much." Her hands cradled his face gently. "And I wish I could take away the pain he caused you. I wish I could go back and change it for you."
He sighed, looking away. She pulled him back.
"But you know what? I wouldn't do it."
Now he shifted to look at her curiously.
"I would not do it," she repeated, making each word crisp and precise.
His eyes widened. "No?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I wouldn't do it because something in all of that, somehow, made you who you are. Something gave you the determination, the ambition, to do what you've done. You wouldn't be Jed Bartlet without that." She wasn't sure where that burst of wisdom had come from, but it surprised both of them.
His eyes met hers, acknowledgement of the logic of her words sparkling in them.
"What the hell am I paying Stanley for?" he wondered with a smile.
But she wasn't finished. "You are not your father, Jed. Thank goodness you are not your father. You are a good man. The best man I know."
He cleared his throat and rose to stare out the window. "He wanted to be good - " he repeated, almost to himself, then sighed again. "John Bartlet."
Outside, a few snowflakes fluttered, members of the advance team for the storm that was coming.
"It's a good name. It deserves a good person." He let his gaze trail back to his small son, one she knew he had never expected to have - and one she knew he loved with every breath in his body. One that he would never lift a hand to hurt. She knew that for certain. "John Bartlet."
And she realized then. Realized what he wanted to do. Realized what she wanted to do. She looked down, too, and it suddenly felt right. John Bartlet.
Now he smiled. "John Thomas Bartlet."
"Thomas?" Then she realized that, too. "After Leo." Not a question.
"Yeah."
She nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"It's a good name."
He nodded, tears in his eyes.
It was late when they managed to reach Leo. Neither one asked where he had been, hoping he was at least enjoying himself and not working. Donna personally hoped he had been with Margaret, but she knew better. Her friend might admire her boss from afar, but she had shown no signs of actually approaching him. Well, that might be something Donna could work on.
A crackling fire warmed the colors of the room and Donna rested in that contented state that usually overcomes celebrants when the flurry of activity has died and the food has been consumed. If the world would just stay like this for a few more hours, she would be satisfied - at least until tomorrow.
After a tentative knock, answered by a call from Jed, Leo stuck his head in the door, brow raised in expectation. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
Thank goodness he didn't have on a suit. Well, not exactly. He wore a jacket, but the knit shirt beneath was casual. Still, next to Jed's jeans and Notre Dame sweatshirt he looked almost formal, but he was getting better.
Jed frowned and laughed at once. "Damn it, Leo, this is not a President to Chief-of-Staff conversation."
"No?"
"No."
"What kind of conversation is it?"
Jed sighed. "A conversation between friends."
Leo nodded. "Okay." He peered a little more closely at his friend, obviously noting the swollen, discolored jaw and split lip. "Then, as a friend, I'll ask what the hell happened to you?"
Grimacing as he rubbed at the spot, Jed shrugged casually. "Just getting to know my in laws."
Leo raised a brow in alarm. "What?"
But Jed waved off any more questions. "I wanted you to meet someone." He motioned to the baby.
The confusion clouded Leo's face. 'I think we've met - "
"No. Not like this."
He lifted the infant from his bassinette so that Leo could see him more closely. "Leo Thomas McGarry, I'd like for you to meet John Thomas Bartlet."
For a long moment, the Chief of Staff stood in silence, but Donna watched as the tears shimmered in his eyes. Finally, he swallowed and nodded. Jed smiled, his expression soft, and placed a kiss on Leo's cheek as he shifted the child to his namesake's arms. Then he moved to stand next to Donna, slipping his arm around her and drawing her close.
"It's a good name," she whispered to him.
Almost absently, he murmured, "'A good name in man and woman is the jewel of their souls.'"
No surprise. It was vintage Jed. She searched her memory for the source. "Shakespeare?"
He grinned and nodded.
What play? Hamlet? King Lear? No. Wait, she knew it. "Othello." Thanks, Mrs. Morillo.
His brow rose and she felt a tinge of pride. He was not easily impressed. "Act Three, scene three."
"He is," she declared softly.
"He is what?"
"The jewel of our souls."
"He is," he agreed. "He certainly is."
They watched Leo hold John Thomas Bartlet. A good name. A good man. And a man who should have been good.
A name that had a second chance for goodness.
Donna squeezed Jed's hand and kissed him gently. Looking into his eyes she saw the child who had never lived up to a father's expectations. She saw the youth who had somehow broken free of those bonds and stretched toward his potential. She saw the man who had spent his life working for a better life for his own children and the children of the world.
A Ph D, an honored professor, a Nobel Prize winner, congressman, governor, President. He was a great man.
But more than that - he was a good man.
"A good name in man and woman, dear my Lord, is the immediate jewel of their souls."
William Shakespeare Othello, Act III, Scene 3
POV: Donna
Spoilers : Night Five; Holy Night (only a reference, really)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Gino Moss and Jed's and Donna's child are my creations. Everyone else belongs to AS.
Jewel of Their Souls - Chapter Three
A West Wing Story
by MAHC
This could not be happening. This could absolutely not be happening.
Donna stared at the surreal scene:
Ron Butterfield holding her brother in a choke-hold.
The entire table frozen with astonishment so sharp even the clock had stopped ticking.
And the President of the United States lying flat on his back on the floor, arms flung out, one leg bent, one straight.
Where had it all fallen apart?
She couldn't breathe for a moment, couldn't propel her shocked brain into sending the message to her lungs to perform that necessary function. Then the gasp came, throwing her forward with an involuntary lunge.
"Jed!" she cried, rushing through the doorway and falling to his side, her hands already touching his face, brushing back the hair.
At the same time she heard Ellie yelp, "Dad!" and looked up to see the middle Bartlet daughter drop to her knees on his other side.
For an interminably tense moment nothing happened. Please, Donna pleaded. Please be okay.
Then with a very clear, very precise interjection, the President of the United States managed to prop himself on his elbows, one hand pressed to his jaw, a trickle of blood running from his bottom lip down his chin. The reddened flesh already swelled eagerly.
Her first reaction was to laugh in relief. Her second was to fight the urge to inflict fatal damage on her brother.
"Gino Moss, you idiot!" she snapped, swinging around to confront him. But the instant she saw the white face, the unconcealed fear marking it, she stopped. He certainly had not intended to floor the President of the United States - and his new brother-in-law - with that punch. Almost limp in the secure grip of Agent Butterfield, he was blatantly terrified.
Ellie was trying to check the injury, making every attempt to evaluate the damage, but her patient did not cooperate. Shrugging off her assistance, and that of two agents, he stood on his own, grunting slightly as he probed the injured area.
The rest of her family sat in stunned silence. Her mother looked as if she might faint right there on the spot. Her father was decidedly ashen.
Oh God. She didn't think Jed would actually kill Gino, but she wasn't sure what he would do - not that he didn't deserve whatever was coming to him, but she really didn't want to see a family feud right here in the White House - on Thanksgiving of all days.
He stepped toward his brother-in-law, unaware or uninterested in the steady drip of blood that stained his gray sweater. Donna braced for the reaction. She didn't even figure Ron would stop him.
But as he drew nearer, his eyes refocused, and she watched the automatic emotion of anger give way to a forced calm.
"Mister President?" Ron asked quietly, not budging an inch from his tight grip.
Jed nodded, wincing as the movement caused him some pain. "It's okay, Ron," he said. "Let him go."
With obvious reluctance, the agent released Gino, who somehow managed to remain upright.
They stood facing each other for a moment before the younger man finally found his voice. "Mister President, I - "
"Jed."
Donna turned to stare at her husband. Gino stumbled, equally confused. "Sir?"
And miraculously, a smile curved the President's lips, albeit a one-sided one. "My name is Jed. Since we're family now, you should just call me 'Jed'."
She did not believe her brother could have been more stunned if Jed had laid him flat with a right cross. He swallowed once, then twice.
"But - after - after I - "
A shrug lifted the Presidential shoulders. "It was an accident. I understand. Donna said her brother was - demonstrative."
Interesting way to phrase it, she thought, smiling in amazement, realizing she still had much to learn about her husband. Gino just nodded numbly.
"But," Jed continued, the crooked smile still in place, "no promises next time."
Assuming Gino ever screwed up enough courage to step foot in the White House again before Jed's term ended.
The young man gathered himself and took a tentative step forward. "Mister Pres - "
The President frowned and lifted a hand in protest.
"J - Jed," Gino managed. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe - I just - "
Maturity and experience enabled Jed to utilize wit in putting his brother- in-law at ease. "Well," he said, lifting a brow seriously, "we were going to name the baby after you, but you can forget it now."
"Yes, sir," Gino stammered.
Zoey was the first one to laugh, breaking the brittle tension with her cackle. Annie and Liz followed, joined by Donna's dad. Only her mother, Ellie, and Gino still seemed unable to find any humor in the situation.
Someone pulled up a chair and helped Jed into it. Charlie disappeared, then reappeared carrying an icepack. The jaw had swollen significantly now and Donna gently pressed a washcloth to his split lip. Obviously, Gino had not been as effective in any of his real fights; otherwise, he'd still be in the ring. Of course, it helped that Jed had no idea he was about to be slugged by his wife's brother.
A shadow appeared over her shoulder. She didn't have to turn to sense her mother's presence. Certain things are just instinctual.
"Mister President - " she began.
Through the ice pack and cloth, her son-in-law mumbled, "Jed."
"Well, Je - well, I just want to - I just - "
This was a first. Her mother, full of advice and opinions, found herself stumbling painfully over any coherence. Despite her amusement, and a little embarrassment, Donna bailed her out.
"I think," she proposed, "that Mom is offering to deliver Gino for sacrifice to whatever government agency you want to be responsible for his extermination."
That drew a momentarily horrified gulp from her brother, a humiliated semi- agreement from her mother, and a careful chuckle from her husband.
"Car'st un I 'ow is I R Eh."
"Smooth talker," Donna smirked, pulling the pack away so he could repeat his jibberish.
"I said, 'the scariest one I know is the IRS.'"
They all nodded solemnly, not even considering the words a joke. Ellie eased beside her and coaxed her father into letting her look at the wound.
After a moment of probing, ignoring his grunts of protest, she pronounced, "Nothing broken. The contusion is going to be quite pretty in a couple of days. A nice laceration inside your mouth, but not bad enough for stitches." Standing, she prescribed, "Rinse with alcohol for a few days."
Donna braced, fully expecting a question from Jed, a contradiction of his daughter's diagnosis. From the little she had been around when they interacted, she knew, for some reason, both seemed to play off each other's irritations. But he surprised her, and apparently Ellie, as well.
"What brand?"
"Huh?"
"What brand of alcohol, Doctor Bartlet?" he asked, eye twinkling.
And amazingly, Ellie gifted them all with a rare smile. "Dad, you are - " But she stopped and shook her head. "Vodka's your best bet - but only for medicinal purposes."
Who would have thought it? Eleanor Bartlet had a sense of humor.
"Yes, ma'm," her father replied, his voice light. But Donna saw the contradictory flash of sadness in his eyes. It disappeared quickly, but it had been there, and she realized Ellie had brought back memories of Abbey - had even sounded like Abbey.
She tried to push past the irrational flush of jealousy, knowing his unconscious slip from that morning still weighed on her mind, still threw unsupported doubts of his love between them.
Donna rocked her son gently as he nursed, enjoying the company of Zoey Bartlet, who had sneaked out with her after a curious peace had fallen on their interrupted Thanksgiving meal.
"How's Dad's jaw?" she asked, only a hint of concern mixed with a great deal of amusement.
Donna tried not to smile. Jed probably didn't think it was too funny. "It's okay. Bruised. C.J. will have an interesting time explaining it."
"Well, it's not the first time - " she began absently, then stopped and bit her lip.
Something clicked in Donna's head. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I'll just get back to the - "
But Donna didn't let her rise. She had questions, and it looked as if Zoey could provide answers.
"Zoey, tell me something. Did something happen between your father and his father?"
Her companion flushed and fidgeted in the chair. "What do you - "
Sensing she was on the trail, Donna pushed, "Maybe when he was young?"
Now it was Zoey's turn. She hesitated, clenching her jaw before she spoke. "Why - why are you asking?"
"A couple of nights ago, your dad was restless - tossing and talking in his sleep. He was dreaming about something - or someone." She wouldn't mention his calling Abbey's name from last night. "And he sounded hurt - or scared. He called out 'Dad,' then 'Father.'"
For a moment she thought the youngest Bartlet daughter would feign ignorance, but after a long silence, she nodded and reached out to stroke her brother's foot.
"I don't know everything," she began quietly, the pain and anger for her father's childhood experience bleeding through the tone. "But once, when I was older, Mom told me that my grandfather - well - abused him."
Damn it. Donna's heart ached for the young boy she had never known as well as the man she loved.
"Mostly it was emotional, I think." She laughed once, a short, sarcastic sound that contained no humor. "Dad could never do enough to please him, to make him proud. Imagine that. Do you know what he made on his SATs?"
Donna shook her head.
"800/790."
Dear Lord. Surely she was kidding. But Zoey's expression remained completely serious. Donna didn't even know it was truly possible to score that high.
"A Ph D, an honored professor, a Nobel Prize winner, congressman, governor. He didn't live to see him become President, but somehow I don't think it would have changed anything."
How could that be? How could anyone not be proud to have Josiah Bartlet as a son?
Zoey's tone darkened now. "Sometimes it was physical. I found that out later. He hit him." She shook her head. "I can't imagine that. Daddy never - I mean never - lifted a hand to us girls. Any whippings we got - and they were generally well deserved - came from Mom."
"Why - "
She shrugged. "I don't know. Mom said he was jealous of Daddy. Jealous because Daddy was smarter than he was, angry because Daddy had his own ideas, couldn't be manipulated into another John Bartlet."
Donna brushed the soft hair on her son's head. My God. How could such a tremendous person have developed under such an upbringing? "I didn't know," she whispered. "He's never - "
"He's never talked with me about it, either. I wouldn't know except for Mom."
"I love him very much, Zoey." She didn't know why it seemed important to say that then, but it was.
Jed Bartlet's smile came back at her through his daughter. "I know. I'm glad he has you, Donna."
"Hey! You ladies are missing dessert," called the voice of the man whose life they were analyzing. "Pumpkin pie or coconut cake." His body followed his voice and he appeared in the doorway. Donna noted that a purple splotch had already begun to discolor his jaw.
"We can't have both?" Donna asked, throwing off the ache Zoey's revelation had brought.
"Well, it'll cost you," he said, lowering his voice seductively, completely ignoring the fact that his youngest daughter was present. But Zoey just rolled her eyes.
"Cost me what?" Donna wondered daringly.
He wagged his brow. "We'll discuss your payment later, my dear."
She colored. "Jed!"
"Don't worry about it, Donna," Zoey assured her, rising to pass by her father and slap him lightly on the arm. "I'm used to it. He and Mo - " Her words tumbled to silence. Hurrying out, she mumbled, "Don't worry about it."
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Jed tried to regain the lightness. Donna let him. This was not something she wanted to discuss now.
"Coming?" he asked, hopefully.
"As soon as the doctor lets me," she returned, leering back at him with his own seductive expression.
He grinned. "Counting the days, Baby."
So was she.
They sat alone in the Residence, just the two of them and the baby, the excitement of the day worn down to a well-earned stillness, a satisfied, exhausted silence that didn't bother either of them at all. Her family was settled in their rooms, her mom no doubt making poor Gino pay dearly for his blunder. His had returned to their homes, getting away before the predicted snowfall. Just the three of them now.
She concentrated on listening to the deep breaths of her two men, Jed's even and heavy, the baby's faster, but steady. The infant lay in his bassinette, gathering up his energy for an early wake up; he had settled into a 10:00, 2:00, and 4:00 pattern, which Donna figured could be worse. At least he slept in between feedings.
She and Jed lay on the couch, facing each other, their legs entwined. But she was the only Bartlet with her eyes open. She took the rare moment to study her husband's face. Even battered he was handsome, but she winced at the clear damage. If Gino had not already looked as if he would have jumped off the Washington Monument, given half a chance, she would have pushed him herself. The swollen purple bruise marred his jaw just to the left of his chin, and his lip pushed out a bit with the torn flesh. She resisted the urge to kiss him - no need to cause pain just to satisfy some maternal instinct on her part.
As she gazed at him, breathing deeply with a surge of emotion at the love she felt, Zoey's words returned to disrupt her contentment: "He hit him - I can't imagine that."
Neither could Donna - couldn't envision anyone deliberately hurting a child. Couldn't understand why someone - and not just someone, but his FATHER - could feel so much envy that he would hurt Jed. Again, a swell of protective fury flushed her face and she truly believed that she would have taken the fireplace poker to John Bartlet if he had appeared that moment.
A leg dragged over hers suddenly with a jerk, and Donna re-focused on his face. The peace that had been present was now disturbed with a tensing of his mouth, his brow. His head twisted from side to side.
"No!" The cry, identical to the one she had heard only a few nights before, was ragged, desperate. "Please! Why do you - Sir! Don't!"
Then he flinched and threw his arm in front of him, inadvertently hitting his jaw. The cry of pain was real. In one move, Donna leaped from her position and grabbed his wrists.
"Jed!" she called, her body pulled forward as he jerked away from the restraints. She tried to hold on, but he broke her grip easily. Now she fell to her only recourse. With gentle fingers, she smoothed the furrowed forehead, kissed the tiny scar at his brow - the one he acquired in her apartment, the one that was physical evidence of his reaction to the news of her pregnancy.
"Jed!" she called again, hoping she wouldn't have to scramble for secret service help.
Finally, his thrashing stilled, his cries silenced, and his eyes opened slowly. "Donna?"
"Yeah, Big Boy," she smiled. "You okay?"
Grimacing, he sat and dabbed gingerly at his jaw. "I don't know why Gino didn't win more fights," he observed ruefully.
She laughed. "His other opponents knew they were in a fight."
"Ah. Next time I'd like some warning, then."
"I'll see what I can do."
She watched him for another minute or two, then gave in to the deep need to know - to help - to reassure, perhaps. He might not react well, she knew, but she had to try, anyway.
"Jed?"
He had leaned back on the couch, still testing how sore his jaw was. "Hmm?"
Deep breath. Do it. "Tell me about your father."
Those eyes that generally held such warmth, such love, cooled instantly. A hard steely glint shone in them, and she almost recoiled at the sight. "I don't want to talk about him," he stated flatly, standing to face away from her.
But she had done the worst part now - couldn't stop here. As much as she wanted to go to him, to touch him, she stayed put. "I know - I know something happened," she said softly, hoping the compassion and love didn't sound to him like pity. "I know - there were problems."
"Everybody has problems," he muttered, still turned.
"Not like the ones you had."
Now he spun, and the fury on his face scared her - the first time she had ever felt fear for herself in his presence. "What the hell do you know about the problems I had?" he snapped, then lowered his voice when the baby stirred. "What the hell do you know about it?"
She knew he wouldn't hit her - that was never a thought. But the tone of his voice almost made her retreat. Nevertheless, she didn't. In fact, she stood to face him.
"I know, Jed," she said, her voice gentle. "You - have had nightmares recently. One just a few minutes ago. You called out - you said - well, I could tell."
His face had changed, the anger collapsing into horror at her words.
"So I asked Zoey." When she saw his eyes narrow, she added quickly, "She didn't want to tell me at first, but I pressed. I wanted to know. I wanted to help."
The sudden surge of emotion drained from his body and he dropped back to the couch, head in his hands. God, she wanted to hold him, to comfort him, but something told her to wait, to let him make the next move. Five minutes ticked off the clock before he finally spoke.
"I've never told you - " he began, then stopped as his voice broke.
She forced the swell of protectiveness back, knowing he didn't need to see pity in her eyes. And it wasn't pity, exactly. It was anger; it was outrage; it was incredulity at a man who would treat a child like John Bartlet had treated Jed.
He tried again. "I never told you about my relationship with my father."
It wasn't a question, but she shook her head anyway.
His eyes shifted away from her to stare out the window, his thoughts perhaps flying back forty years. Finally, he sighed and conceded, "It was - complicated."
Her hand slid to his, encouraging, reassuring, and he managed to smile weakly. But it grew as he let his gaze slide to the blue and white bassinette.
"I think he wanted to be good," he said abruptly. "Meant to be good, but - but there was just - something that - " He looked up again. "He didn't like me, Donna."
Tears burned her eyes.
"I'm not sure why. I certainly tried to - Stanley says I'm still trying to - " But he stopped without finishing the confession.
She knew he talked with Stanley Keyworth occasionally. Didn't know why, exactly - just figured he needed to relieve the unbelievable stresses he bore. But now things made sense. Now, she understood more. Now, she ached to do something, to ease the naked hurt in his eyes, to destroy the spectre of a miserable childhood and cruel father. But she kept silent, letting him work it out himself, waiting for him to make the decision of what to tell her.
He leaned on his elbows, not looking at her. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. "Abbey always said he was insecure, and he didn't know what to do with a child who was - well - who was smarter than he was. And she was the one who showed me what I could be. Who made me realize I couldn't let him hold me back. Abbey - and Leo - " As if he suddenly realized he had brought up something uncomfortable, he cocked his head toward her.
"Donna," he whispered, reaching out to catch her hand in his. "Donna, I - I think this morning I said - " The furrow between his brows deepened. "I think I called - "
Her slight nod confirmed it.
"I'm sorry. I was dreaming - I was dreaming that - well, it happens sometimes. It used to happen a lot. Every night, and I would wake from a world where she was with me, in my arms, and be in a world where I had no one. And every single time I got sick - literally sick when I remembered she was gone."
"Jed - " She wasn't sure she wanted to hear this, but he needed to say it, so she wanted to reassure him. He didn't let her continue, though.
"I can't promise you the dreams will stop. I have no control over that. But I can promise you that I love you very much. And I dream of you every night. I dream of holding you and making love to you. And I dream of us watching our son grow. " Now he had both of her hands in his and the rich emotion in his voice told her even more than his words could. "You are my wife, Donna Bartlet. You aren't replacing anyone. You are the First Lady of the United States, and you are mother to our son - and you are my wife."
"Oh Jed," she smiled through the tears. "I love you. I love you so much." Her hands cradled his face gently. "And I wish I could take away the pain he caused you. I wish I could go back and change it for you."
He sighed, looking away. She pulled him back.
"But you know what? I wouldn't do it."
Now he shifted to look at her curiously.
"I would not do it," she repeated, making each word crisp and precise.
His eyes widened. "No?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I wouldn't do it because something in all of that, somehow, made you who you are. Something gave you the determination, the ambition, to do what you've done. You wouldn't be Jed Bartlet without that." She wasn't sure where that burst of wisdom had come from, but it surprised both of them.
His eyes met hers, acknowledgement of the logic of her words sparkling in them.
"What the hell am I paying Stanley for?" he wondered with a smile.
But she wasn't finished. "You are not your father, Jed. Thank goodness you are not your father. You are a good man. The best man I know."
He cleared his throat and rose to stare out the window. "He wanted to be good - " he repeated, almost to himself, then sighed again. "John Bartlet."
Outside, a few snowflakes fluttered, members of the advance team for the storm that was coming.
"It's a good name. It deserves a good person." He let his gaze trail back to his small son, one she knew he had never expected to have - and one she knew he loved with every breath in his body. One that he would never lift a hand to hurt. She knew that for certain. "John Bartlet."
And she realized then. Realized what he wanted to do. Realized what she wanted to do. She looked down, too, and it suddenly felt right. John Bartlet.
Now he smiled. "John Thomas Bartlet."
"Thomas?" Then she realized that, too. "After Leo." Not a question.
"Yeah."
She nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"It's a good name."
He nodded, tears in his eyes.
It was late when they managed to reach Leo. Neither one asked where he had been, hoping he was at least enjoying himself and not working. Donna personally hoped he had been with Margaret, but she knew better. Her friend might admire her boss from afar, but she had shown no signs of actually approaching him. Well, that might be something Donna could work on.
A crackling fire warmed the colors of the room and Donna rested in that contented state that usually overcomes celebrants when the flurry of activity has died and the food has been consumed. If the world would just stay like this for a few more hours, she would be satisfied - at least until tomorrow.
After a tentative knock, answered by a call from Jed, Leo stuck his head in the door, brow raised in expectation. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
Thank goodness he didn't have on a suit. Well, not exactly. He wore a jacket, but the knit shirt beneath was casual. Still, next to Jed's jeans and Notre Dame sweatshirt he looked almost formal, but he was getting better.
Jed frowned and laughed at once. "Damn it, Leo, this is not a President to Chief-of-Staff conversation."
"No?"
"No."
"What kind of conversation is it?"
Jed sighed. "A conversation between friends."
Leo nodded. "Okay." He peered a little more closely at his friend, obviously noting the swollen, discolored jaw and split lip. "Then, as a friend, I'll ask what the hell happened to you?"
Grimacing as he rubbed at the spot, Jed shrugged casually. "Just getting to know my in laws."
Leo raised a brow in alarm. "What?"
But Jed waved off any more questions. "I wanted you to meet someone." He motioned to the baby.
The confusion clouded Leo's face. 'I think we've met - "
"No. Not like this."
He lifted the infant from his bassinette so that Leo could see him more closely. "Leo Thomas McGarry, I'd like for you to meet John Thomas Bartlet."
For a long moment, the Chief of Staff stood in silence, but Donna watched as the tears shimmered in his eyes. Finally, he swallowed and nodded. Jed smiled, his expression soft, and placed a kiss on Leo's cheek as he shifted the child to his namesake's arms. Then he moved to stand next to Donna, slipping his arm around her and drawing her close.
"It's a good name," she whispered to him.
Almost absently, he murmured, "'A good name in man and woman is the jewel of their souls.'"
No surprise. It was vintage Jed. She searched her memory for the source. "Shakespeare?"
He grinned and nodded.
What play? Hamlet? King Lear? No. Wait, she knew it. "Othello." Thanks, Mrs. Morillo.
His brow rose and she felt a tinge of pride. He was not easily impressed. "Act Three, scene three."
"He is," she declared softly.
"He is what?"
"The jewel of our souls."
"He is," he agreed. "He certainly is."
They watched Leo hold John Thomas Bartlet. A good name. A good man. And a man who should have been good.
A name that had a second chance for goodness.
Donna squeezed Jed's hand and kissed him gently. Looking into his eyes she saw the child who had never lived up to a father's expectations. She saw the youth who had somehow broken free of those bonds and stretched toward his potential. She saw the man who had spent his life working for a better life for his own children and the children of the world.
A Ph D, an honored professor, a Nobel Prize winner, congressman, governor, President. He was a great man.
But more than that - he was a good man.
"A good name in man and woman, dear my Lord, is the immediate jewel of their souls."
William Shakespeare Othello, Act III, Scene 3