POV: Donna
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Jed and Donna are not my characters.
All the Way - Chapter Three A West Wing Story
by MAHC
Okay, tickets to see Wayne Newton in Las Vegas for her mom. Golf bag for her dad - autographed by Tiger Woods. New boxing gloves for Gino - once worn by Oscar De La Hoya. She chuckled at a memory that had grown humorous only with a little time.
And what for Jed?
Christmas loomed before her only a week away and she still had not settled on the right gift for her husband. No - it wasn't that she hadn't settled on it; it was more like she hadn't even come up with an idea yet. What on earth did he need, anyway? Well, nothing, really. It was more what he might want, and she wasn't even sure about that. Maybe if they had been talking more recently -
She tried to push that thought from her mind, tried to focus on what she could get him that would bring him out of the strange and worrisome shell he had ducked under for the past three weeks.
Normally, she shopped ahead of time, but this year she had certainly had a few preoccupations to keep her from that plan. Still, she had a week - and wasn't Christmas shopping even more fun when you had to fight thousands of frantic shoppers for that last Norelco razor?
It was with this joyful expectation that she approached her agents about the necessary trip to the stores of Washington and Alexandria. And surely somewhere along the shelves she would spot something just right for Jed.
But the conversation did not progress quite as she had anticipated.
"Uh, you want to go shopping, Mrs. Bartlet?" Jonah look fairly horrified at the prospect and Donna couldn't suppress a flush of irritation. Duh. It was Christmas, after all. Didn't the secret service celebrate Christmas? Well, okay, maybe not. Still -
"Yes, Jonah. I want to go shopping. You know, for presents. Like everyone else does this time of year." Well, unless you were Jehovah's Witness - or Jewish, but then there were always Chanukah gifts.
"Why don't you give me your list and I'll take care of the purchases for you?" he offered, a hopeful smile that looked more like a grimace crossing his face.
"That's, uh, nice of you, Jonah," she said, not sure at all that he was extending the suggestion just to be nice. "But I prefer to do my own shopping. It's part of the whole Christmas experience."
He shifted his feet nervously. "I'll just - I'll just have to check on that."
"Check on it being part of the whole Christmas experience or check on the shopping?" Okay, that was a comment Jed would make, but she couldn't help it. And it kept her from snapping at her agent.
"Uh - check on the shopping, Mrs. Bartlet," he clarified unnecessarily.
It was one of those red haze moments when you have to wait out the impulse to snatch someone's head off. Jonah kept his only by the barest of margins.
"Check on it with whom?" she asked icily.
"With Agent Butterfield, m'am." He seemed relieved to delegate the blame upward.
"Agent Butterfield?"
"Yes, m'am. I'll talk with him as soon as possible."
"What about now?"
"Well - "
"What about now?" she repeated in a voice that clearly indicated she did not appreciate having to repeat it. In the back of her mind, she decided she was getting rather good at this First Lady stuff.
Jonah straightened. "Yes, m'am. I'll talk with him now."
She smiled sweetly, but it was a smile of victory. "I'll just wait here for you."
Without another word he slipped through the doors of her office in search of the head of POTUS detail. Donna braced for an interesting encounter with the agent. Ron was nothing if not stubborn, and if he decided she couldn't go shopping, she would have to pull some rank to change that. Of course, she did have some rank of her own - and if that didn't work, Jed had some power himself.
As she waited for Jonah to return, her thoughts turned again to her husband. That morning, he had wakened first, dutifully brought J.T. in to her to nurse, then disappeared into the bathroom, emerging showered, shaved, and fully dressed.
"Morning," she greeted hopefully, casting an inviting glance his way.
"Good morning," he returned, pleasantly enough, but still guarded.
"Going already?" Can't you visit? Can't you talk? Can't you even touch me? Please? She wanted to say that aloud, but her pride kept her silent.
"Yeah. Leo's got something early. I'll try to get back up for lunch."
He leaned in for a quick kiss, more habit than anything else. But she didn't let him by with just that. As his lips brushed hers, she caught his tie and dragged him hard against her, opening her mouth to welcome him. She almost screamed with delight when he responded, his lips parting, his tongue slipping through. The kiss deepened, the heat from weeks of celibacy and restraint burning between them. His low groan sounded sweet to her ears, sent tingles through her groin. She wanted him so much. It wasn't too long from then that the doctor would release her. Surely they would be safe. Surely it would be okay just to go ahead and give in -
But he pulled back, wrenching his tie free from her grasp. He stood before her, face flushed, breath coming a little hard. Letting her gaze drop, she smirked at the very obvious effect the kiss had produced.
"Donna, that's not fair - " he began, then straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "I've - I've got to meet Leo."
With her best seductive purr, she invited, "How about lunch? I'd love to - have you for lunch."
She truly expected him to return the serve with just as much innuendo as she sent it, but he simply nodded, backing up as he did. "I'll - see what I can do. The meeting might take awhile."
"Jed - "
He was gone, the door closing behind him, shutting her off once again from whatever he was feeling, whatever was going on in that brilliant and mystifying mind of his.
"Mrs. Bartlet?"
Drawn from her reflections, she looked up to see Jonah standing by the door, his body language tense, wary. He was alone. No Ron Butterfield in sight. Probably not a good omen for her plan. But he only said, "The President wants to see you, m'am."
The President. Jed. Wanted to see her? About shopping?
She half intended to refuse, but her better judgment won out and she simply nodded. "Okay. Tell him I'm coming."
The obvious relief of Jonah's face almost brought a chuckle to her lips. Would have, if she weren't already shifting her attention to the possible discussion ahead. If Jed was involved in this decision already, without her prompting, it was simply another indication of something being a bit off kilter.
She entered the Oval Office tentatively, constantly on edge for what she might encounter with this new version of her husband. He didn't look up, just continued to scribble on the paper before him. She wondered if he regretted leaving that morning. Wondered if he wished he had stayed and spent those early hours making love to her, holding her, touching her, like he hadn't done in weeks. But she also wondered if he really wanted to. Margaret's sickening words stabbed her, as they did every time she thought of them.
"He said it was so hard being around you."
Surely that wasn't true. Surely it was just - it was just - She bit down hard to fight back the tears. His actions certainly supported that statement. He avoided her at every possible moment. He held back on anything intimate - whispers, touches, looks. All the things they used to share; all the things they used to treasure between them. And she was aching for it, yearning for him.
He still hadn't looked up. Finally, she cleared her throat to gain his attention.
This time, his eyes rose to meet hers and she pushed back a startled gasp. His face was drawn and haggard, the familiar twinkle absent, the mischievous energy missing. He looked tired. So tired. When had that happened? How had she missed it? Or had it been easy not to see what was happening? Had she avoided him just as much as he avoided her - so she wouldn't see what she feared?
With a sigh that slumped his shoulders, he rose stiffly, pushing away from the desk with obvious effort. "Donna," he said simply, voice tight.
"Hey." Try being casual, light.
He leaned back against his desk, not even moving in for a quick kiss, not even bringing himself close enough to catch her hand. "You can't go shopping."
Abrupt. Final. It surprised her so much that she couldn't respond immediately. When she finally did find her voice, it came out more hostile than she intended.
"What are you talking about?"
At least he held her gaze this time. "You can't go shopping. Jonah told Ron you wanted to go shopping."
"Yeah? What does that have to do with you?" That, too, came out harsher than she meant it, but she couldn't quite hide the growing anger.
"It - Ron came to me about it - "
"Why?"
"Look, Donna," he began, stepping forward with an extended hand. She pulled away and he let it drop. "You're the First Lady, now. You can't just - go shopping."
"You do." That was true. Every Christmas the service cleared a store for him - usually a bookstore - and he spent an enjoyable hour or so picking out gifts. What was the difference here?
"It just - it's different when - " Looking down, then completely away, he stepped back behind his desk, as if that gave him the power of the office even against his own wife. "You can't go shopping. Send someone with a list, but you can't go shopping."
It was the first time in their relationship that she was truly mad at him. Anger flew over her, sweeping up her face, reddening her cheeks, sharpening her tongue. "Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can't do?"
His startled expression should have calmed her, but it didn't. She had only just begun.
"You're going to ORDER me as Commander-in-Chief not to go shopping?"
A she heard her voice rise, she knew this was not the way to handle it, but her control had let go too much, and she gave in to the impulse of reaction. She was yelling now, and wondered vaguely if they could hear her in the outside offices.
Jed had reached the same level as well. He snapped back, hair falling over his forehead with the force of his response, "Yes! If I have to, yes! That's what I'll do!"
In spite of her anger, she was almost glad to see the reaction. It was the most passion he had shown since Thanksgiving. They stared at each other for a long moment and Donna wondered if Jed was just as shocked as she was.
Finally, he clenched his jaw hard and said, voice low, "You can't just go out there to shop."
"Why?" She dared him to say it - whatever it was. Say it. Tell me why.
Their eyes locked, wills battling. After a full minute of stubbornness from both of them, he turned away and breathed out heavily. "Only with Ron's arrangement."
Well. Okay.
Fighting to keep the victory from her face, she nodded, disturbed at the words that had passed between them - or at least the ones she had said.
He sat down heavily in his chair, his hand reaching up automatically to rub against his temple. Her ire fading abruptly, Donna moved directly in front of the desk.
"You have a headache?"
His head snapped up, his eyes shining with clear regret that he had allowed that absent gesture to betray him. Straightening, he shook his head. "No. I'll talk with Ron about the shopping.
Damn him. Why couldn't he just admit he was sick? Why couldn't he let her in on whatever the hell was going on? "Why don't you rest a little while?" she suggested gingerly.
Now he stood again, in defiance of her suggestion. "I said I'm fine." His tone was curt, hard. "Look, Donna, I'm - "
"Busy. Yeah. Thanks for giving me 'permission' to go out of the house." She had always possessed an aptitude for sarcasm, and it oozed through her words. Before he could respond, she was out the door, Ms. Fiderer and Charlie a vague blur as she fled past them toward the Residence.
Heart racing, she dismissed the agent that served as both protector and babysitter to J.T. and stood over the crib, gazing down at his sweet face, his lips parted in slumber, cheeks pink, chubby hands clenched around two pacifiers that would never take the place of mother's breast.
Love so deep, so powerful it hurt, flowed from her to her son - to Jed's son. As she stroked his soft blonde hair, she tried to picture the three of them in the coming years: father, mother, and son. Tried to see the milestone moments of walking, talking, reading, starting school. And it sent a streak of horror and dread through her that her visions brought only two of them together for those events. A son - and a mother.
Jed wasn't there. And try as she might, she couldn't place him in the picture. It was a terrifying and heart-ripping realization.
All the Way - Chapter Three A West Wing Story
by MAHC
Okay, tickets to see Wayne Newton in Las Vegas for her mom. Golf bag for her dad - autographed by Tiger Woods. New boxing gloves for Gino - once worn by Oscar De La Hoya. She chuckled at a memory that had grown humorous only with a little time.
And what for Jed?
Christmas loomed before her only a week away and she still had not settled on the right gift for her husband. No - it wasn't that she hadn't settled on it; it was more like she hadn't even come up with an idea yet. What on earth did he need, anyway? Well, nothing, really. It was more what he might want, and she wasn't even sure about that. Maybe if they had been talking more recently -
She tried to push that thought from her mind, tried to focus on what she could get him that would bring him out of the strange and worrisome shell he had ducked under for the past three weeks.
Normally, she shopped ahead of time, but this year she had certainly had a few preoccupations to keep her from that plan. Still, she had a week - and wasn't Christmas shopping even more fun when you had to fight thousands of frantic shoppers for that last Norelco razor?
It was with this joyful expectation that she approached her agents about the necessary trip to the stores of Washington and Alexandria. And surely somewhere along the shelves she would spot something just right for Jed.
But the conversation did not progress quite as she had anticipated.
"Uh, you want to go shopping, Mrs. Bartlet?" Jonah look fairly horrified at the prospect and Donna couldn't suppress a flush of irritation. Duh. It was Christmas, after all. Didn't the secret service celebrate Christmas? Well, okay, maybe not. Still -
"Yes, Jonah. I want to go shopping. You know, for presents. Like everyone else does this time of year." Well, unless you were Jehovah's Witness - or Jewish, but then there were always Chanukah gifts.
"Why don't you give me your list and I'll take care of the purchases for you?" he offered, a hopeful smile that looked more like a grimace crossing his face.
"That's, uh, nice of you, Jonah," she said, not sure at all that he was extending the suggestion just to be nice. "But I prefer to do my own shopping. It's part of the whole Christmas experience."
He shifted his feet nervously. "I'll just - I'll just have to check on that."
"Check on it being part of the whole Christmas experience or check on the shopping?" Okay, that was a comment Jed would make, but she couldn't help it. And it kept her from snapping at her agent.
"Uh - check on the shopping, Mrs. Bartlet," he clarified unnecessarily.
It was one of those red haze moments when you have to wait out the impulse to snatch someone's head off. Jonah kept his only by the barest of margins.
"Check on it with whom?" she asked icily.
"With Agent Butterfield, m'am." He seemed relieved to delegate the blame upward.
"Agent Butterfield?"
"Yes, m'am. I'll talk with him as soon as possible."
"What about now?"
"Well - "
"What about now?" she repeated in a voice that clearly indicated she did not appreciate having to repeat it. In the back of her mind, she decided she was getting rather good at this First Lady stuff.
Jonah straightened. "Yes, m'am. I'll talk with him now."
She smiled sweetly, but it was a smile of victory. "I'll just wait here for you."
Without another word he slipped through the doors of her office in search of the head of POTUS detail. Donna braced for an interesting encounter with the agent. Ron was nothing if not stubborn, and if he decided she couldn't go shopping, she would have to pull some rank to change that. Of course, she did have some rank of her own - and if that didn't work, Jed had some power himself.
As she waited for Jonah to return, her thoughts turned again to her husband. That morning, he had wakened first, dutifully brought J.T. in to her to nurse, then disappeared into the bathroom, emerging showered, shaved, and fully dressed.
"Morning," she greeted hopefully, casting an inviting glance his way.
"Good morning," he returned, pleasantly enough, but still guarded.
"Going already?" Can't you visit? Can't you talk? Can't you even touch me? Please? She wanted to say that aloud, but her pride kept her silent.
"Yeah. Leo's got something early. I'll try to get back up for lunch."
He leaned in for a quick kiss, more habit than anything else. But she didn't let him by with just that. As his lips brushed hers, she caught his tie and dragged him hard against her, opening her mouth to welcome him. She almost screamed with delight when he responded, his lips parting, his tongue slipping through. The kiss deepened, the heat from weeks of celibacy and restraint burning between them. His low groan sounded sweet to her ears, sent tingles through her groin. She wanted him so much. It wasn't too long from then that the doctor would release her. Surely they would be safe. Surely it would be okay just to go ahead and give in -
But he pulled back, wrenching his tie free from her grasp. He stood before her, face flushed, breath coming a little hard. Letting her gaze drop, she smirked at the very obvious effect the kiss had produced.
"Donna, that's not fair - " he began, then straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "I've - I've got to meet Leo."
With her best seductive purr, she invited, "How about lunch? I'd love to - have you for lunch."
She truly expected him to return the serve with just as much innuendo as she sent it, but he simply nodded, backing up as he did. "I'll - see what I can do. The meeting might take awhile."
"Jed - "
He was gone, the door closing behind him, shutting her off once again from whatever he was feeling, whatever was going on in that brilliant and mystifying mind of his.
"Mrs. Bartlet?"
Drawn from her reflections, she looked up to see Jonah standing by the door, his body language tense, wary. He was alone. No Ron Butterfield in sight. Probably not a good omen for her plan. But he only said, "The President wants to see you, m'am."
The President. Jed. Wanted to see her? About shopping?
She half intended to refuse, but her better judgment won out and she simply nodded. "Okay. Tell him I'm coming."
The obvious relief of Jonah's face almost brought a chuckle to her lips. Would have, if she weren't already shifting her attention to the possible discussion ahead. If Jed was involved in this decision already, without her prompting, it was simply another indication of something being a bit off kilter.
She entered the Oval Office tentatively, constantly on edge for what she might encounter with this new version of her husband. He didn't look up, just continued to scribble on the paper before him. She wondered if he regretted leaving that morning. Wondered if he wished he had stayed and spent those early hours making love to her, holding her, touching her, like he hadn't done in weeks. But she also wondered if he really wanted to. Margaret's sickening words stabbed her, as they did every time she thought of them.
"He said it was so hard being around you."
Surely that wasn't true. Surely it was just - it was just - She bit down hard to fight back the tears. His actions certainly supported that statement. He avoided her at every possible moment. He held back on anything intimate - whispers, touches, looks. All the things they used to share; all the things they used to treasure between them. And she was aching for it, yearning for him.
He still hadn't looked up. Finally, she cleared her throat to gain his attention.
This time, his eyes rose to meet hers and she pushed back a startled gasp. His face was drawn and haggard, the familiar twinkle absent, the mischievous energy missing. He looked tired. So tired. When had that happened? How had she missed it? Or had it been easy not to see what was happening? Had she avoided him just as much as he avoided her - so she wouldn't see what she feared?
With a sigh that slumped his shoulders, he rose stiffly, pushing away from the desk with obvious effort. "Donna," he said simply, voice tight.
"Hey." Try being casual, light.
He leaned back against his desk, not even moving in for a quick kiss, not even bringing himself close enough to catch her hand. "You can't go shopping."
Abrupt. Final. It surprised her so much that she couldn't respond immediately. When she finally did find her voice, it came out more hostile than she intended.
"What are you talking about?"
At least he held her gaze this time. "You can't go shopping. Jonah told Ron you wanted to go shopping."
"Yeah? What does that have to do with you?" That, too, came out harsher than she meant it, but she couldn't quite hide the growing anger.
"It - Ron came to me about it - "
"Why?"
"Look, Donna," he began, stepping forward with an extended hand. She pulled away and he let it drop. "You're the First Lady, now. You can't just - go shopping."
"You do." That was true. Every Christmas the service cleared a store for him - usually a bookstore - and he spent an enjoyable hour or so picking out gifts. What was the difference here?
"It just - it's different when - " Looking down, then completely away, he stepped back behind his desk, as if that gave him the power of the office even against his own wife. "You can't go shopping. Send someone with a list, but you can't go shopping."
It was the first time in their relationship that she was truly mad at him. Anger flew over her, sweeping up her face, reddening her cheeks, sharpening her tongue. "Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can't do?"
His startled expression should have calmed her, but it didn't. She had only just begun.
"You're going to ORDER me as Commander-in-Chief not to go shopping?"
A she heard her voice rise, she knew this was not the way to handle it, but her control had let go too much, and she gave in to the impulse of reaction. She was yelling now, and wondered vaguely if they could hear her in the outside offices.
Jed had reached the same level as well. He snapped back, hair falling over his forehead with the force of his response, "Yes! If I have to, yes! That's what I'll do!"
In spite of her anger, she was almost glad to see the reaction. It was the most passion he had shown since Thanksgiving. They stared at each other for a long moment and Donna wondered if Jed was just as shocked as she was.
Finally, he clenched his jaw hard and said, voice low, "You can't just go out there to shop."
"Why?" She dared him to say it - whatever it was. Say it. Tell me why.
Their eyes locked, wills battling. After a full minute of stubbornness from both of them, he turned away and breathed out heavily. "Only with Ron's arrangement."
Well. Okay.
Fighting to keep the victory from her face, she nodded, disturbed at the words that had passed between them - or at least the ones she had said.
He sat down heavily in his chair, his hand reaching up automatically to rub against his temple. Her ire fading abruptly, Donna moved directly in front of the desk.
"You have a headache?"
His head snapped up, his eyes shining with clear regret that he had allowed that absent gesture to betray him. Straightening, he shook his head. "No. I'll talk with Ron about the shopping.
Damn him. Why couldn't he just admit he was sick? Why couldn't he let her in on whatever the hell was going on? "Why don't you rest a little while?" she suggested gingerly.
Now he stood again, in defiance of her suggestion. "I said I'm fine." His tone was curt, hard. "Look, Donna, I'm - "
"Busy. Yeah. Thanks for giving me 'permission' to go out of the house." She had always possessed an aptitude for sarcasm, and it oozed through her words. Before he could respond, she was out the door, Ms. Fiderer and Charlie a vague blur as she fled past them toward the Residence.
Heart racing, she dismissed the agent that served as both protector and babysitter to J.T. and stood over the crib, gazing down at his sweet face, his lips parted in slumber, cheeks pink, chubby hands clenched around two pacifiers that would never take the place of mother's breast.
Love so deep, so powerful it hurt, flowed from her to her son - to Jed's son. As she stroked his soft blonde hair, she tried to picture the three of them in the coming years: father, mother, and son. Tried to see the milestone moments of walking, talking, reading, starting school. And it sent a streak of horror and dread through her that her visions brought only two of them together for those events. A son - and a mother.
Jed wasn't there. And try as she might, she couldn't place him in the picture. It was a terrifying and heart-ripping realization.