POV: Donna
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13/R
Disclaimer: These are not my characters. I did not create them. I do,
however, love them.
A Dagger Unseen – Epilogue A West Wing Story
by MAHC
"– don't think anyone anticipated it."
"No, I don't think so, Tom. The President erased any doubts about his ability to lead, and about his recovery."
"There were a few pauses, a few stumbles."
"Yes," agreed the medical expert from Johns Hopkins. Donna had forgotten her name. "But I think they made him even more impressive. We could see what he had overcome, what he had fought through. I have to say I was not expecting such a powerful performance from what we were hearing behind the scenes."
Tom Brokaw turned toward the camera, his familiar face crinkled slightly in a smile. "Thank you, Doctor Boris. Well, we've heard the Republican response to the State of the Union, and even as some of them stuck with partisan rebuttals, they could not help but give praise to President Bartlet. I think both sides of the aisle agree that he gave an impressive – "
Donna Bartlet grinned at the television, at the astonishment of the commentators, of the pundits, of the public in general. He had done it. Jed had done it, and even his wife had to admit to no small amazement over his accomplishment.
The atmosphere in the West Wing was almost giddy with relief, with excitement, with pride. Even Toby allowed himself a few smiles over the President's victorious visit to the Hill.
"He was incredible."
Donna turned just as C.J. handed her a glass of champagne. "Yes," she agreed, accepting the offered drink.
"I mean, I don't see how – well, when he was just – he couldn't even – and then he – He was incredible." Apparently the Press Secretary had already partaken in more than one glass of the bubbly herself. But Donna understood the gushing, had trouble keeping herself from it, as well.
She opened her mouth to respond, but a soft comment drew her instant attention.
"Of course, you know this means that before every speech, we have to – have sex."
Donna grinned at the whisper at her ear, but didn't turn. "Toby, I told you it'll have to be every other speech."
Jed Bartlet threw back his head and laughed, that deep true laugh that was his alone, turning the heads of those closest to the First Couple, drawing smiles from the visitors fortunate enough to be included in the celebration, heady with the success of the State of the Union, with the triumphant return of their Commander-in-Chief.
"No," he insisted, "every speech."
"Before and after, just to be on the safe side," she threw back.
"Well, then, we still have – the after, don't we?" The promise in his husky voice triggered a warm tingle deep inside her.
Oh yes. They still had the after. Before she had a chance to anticipate it, he had leaned in for a tender kiss, not too long, but not so brief that the cameras missed it. There was another photo for the paper tomorrow.
"Congratulations, Mister President." C.J. offered, her pink cheeks evidence that she had overheard their intimate banter.
"Thank you," Jed answered, pulling away from his wife to kiss the Press Secretary on the cheek, then turning to shake the approaching outstretched hands of Josh and Will as the two men conveyed their own praise.
"Grand slam, Mister President," Josh said, all dimples.
"Yes, sir. Game winning grand slam," added Will.
"Thanks," Jed returned simply.
They all turned as the Communications Director approached, the habitual scowl replaced by some unfamiliar expression that almost resembled a grin.
"Toby!" Jed called, slapping him on the back. "Sorry about the – ad lib at the beginning."
Now the grin finally appeared, broad and bright – for Toby anyway. "Well, sir, if you hadn't been on live television – "
"Coward."
"Yes, sir." But Donna watched as the younger man's eyes sharpened in a silent message: Pride. Affection. Triumph.
Jed nodded in return, words unnecessary between two men who had beaten the odds.
"Drinks all around!" Josh proposed, lifting his empty glass. "Empty the kegs of the kingdom."
"I think your keg's already been emptied, Sir Joshua," C.J. noted, her own grin threatening to get downright silly.
"That's Lord Joshua to you," he returned, and Donna couldn't help laughing aloud as they all were caught up in the joy.
But such moments frequently proved to be ephemeral in the world of earth's most powerful – and most pressured – leader. Even before they all saw him, the very aura of Leo's solemnity smothered their giddiness.
"Mister President?"
Jed turned and Donna watched his expression fall as he noticed his Chief of Staff. "Yeah?"
"May I have a word, sir?"
A word between the President of the United States and his Chief of Staff held much heavier significance than most. Donna sighed. It was always something. Couldn't he just have this time?
"Okay."
The two stepped away from the crowd, but not completely out of the room. Donna watched carefully, trying to tell what was being conveyed, trying to see Jed's reaction. She resented anyone who might cause him stress right now, even Leo. She watched as her husband bowed his head, cocking it slightly as he listened to whatever news the Chief of Staff had for him. Suddenly, the head came up, eyes staring into Leo's. His hand gripped his friend's arm. Donna was only a few seconds away from interfering, from protecting him. She tried to gather some hint about what was said from their expressions, but Jed only nodded and pursed his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, he patted Leo on the shoulder and returned to the group.
"Everything all right, sir?" C.J. asked. She was speaking for all of them.
He sighed and Donna closed her eyes against whatever disaster was now threatening them. Couldn't they catch even one break?
"The UN Secretary General called," he said.
Okay. To berate the President for his bold statements? To ask for more time or more leniency? Would the U.S. be an island in a sea of disagreement?
"They are calling a meeting of the Security Council tomorrow."
They waited. That could mean many things.
Then she saw it. Despite the straight line of his mouth, despite the furrowed brow, the eyes couldn't hide his true feelings. And those beautiful blues sparkled, belying his outward façade. He saw that she could see through him. Giving up the pretense, he allowed the smile to break through.
"He is asking for sanctions against North Korea and immediate IAEA inspections," he told them with a satisfied nod. "He expects the entire Security Council to back the request and to issue an official condemnation of North Korea's involvement in the attempt."
For a moment no one spoke. It was more than they could have hoped for. Then C.J. shook off the surprise and said, "That's – that's incredible." It seemed to be her word for the night. "Congratulations, sir."
"There is another thing, though," Jed added, his voice heavy with caution.
"China," Josh guessed.
"China," Jed confirmed.
"Have they issued a statement?" Toby asked.
"Yep."
"And?"
Jed sighed again. "The People's Republic of China pledges its complete support – "
Damn. Of course China would back North Korea. Now they would have a much more formidable adversary. It was another Korean War. Or perhaps worse. A war with the most populous country in the –
"– of the United Nations and the United States and vehemently condemns any actions supported by the Democratic Republic of Korea that might be connected to the reprehensible attack on the U.S. President." He lifted a brow. "That would be me."
Now she saw Leo step into their circle, his smirk breaking through the stone façade.
"What?" Will asked, or maybe it was Josh.
"China condemns – "
The Chief of Staff smiled openly now. "Vehemently condemns actions supported by North Korea."
"That's tantamount to – "
"To breaking relations," Jed supplied. "Probably doesn't mean they will. But it is – unprecedented."
"It blows away any validity North Korea had," Toby said. "Nobody will stand by them if China doesn't."
"And it will almost surely force their hand on the nuclear issue. All or nothing."
"What do we do now, sir?" Will wondered.
Jed took a beat as they all waited for his proclamation. He pressed his lips together, then allowed a smile to pull them apart. "We let the IAEA and the UN take it."
Several protests greeted his decision. Josh was the first to voice their bewilderment. "But, sir, they tried to – they killed the people on those planes. They almost killed you!"
Her husband cocked his head slightly, his tone patient but firm. "First, Josh, we still don't have a direct connection from the planes to the North Korean government. For that matter, we don't have a definitive connection to my – incident."
"But – "
"Second, let's say we do it. Let's say we strip North Korea of all self- government, of all military capability. What would happen?"
Six pairs of eyes stayed on him. No one spoke.
"It's been tried before," he told them. When no one ventured a guess as to when, he explained, "The Treaty of Versailles, 1919. Germany was left with nothing, except devastating poverty and a humiliation that hungered for anyone or anything that could rescue them."
Josh blanched. Toby shifted slightly and looked away.
Jed nodded at their comprehension. "We don't need another Hitler rising from the ruins of North Korea. And the – North Korean people don't need that either. We guide, we even dictate, perhaps, some safeguards, but we don't – administer the death sentence for their government. It could very well be our own."
Now he smiled and shrugged slightly. "Besides, it's our turn, now, to be – magnanimous. We offer the olive branch."
"That seems awfully forgiving of you, sir, considering – "
Jed waved off the suggestion of his surprising benevolence. "Yeah. Well, what do we win by forcing them to build a bomb? Aren't we supposed to be the good guys?"
No one spoke for awhile. Then Leo nodded, a fond smile curving his lips. "Yes, sir. We are." After a moment, the smile broke into a grin and he asked, "Defer to the UN?"
"Defer."
"Final answer?"
With a confident nod, the President of the United States confirmed, "Final answer. Besides," he grinned, lifting Donna's fingers to his lips, "I have plans."
The others grinned back, happy that their leader was back, happy that the world seemed to support them, and happy that, for the first time in a long time, no sinister mysteries hung over their heads.
As the Chief of Staff disappeared through the crowd to relay his boss' instructions to the Joint Chiefs, Donna watched Jed carefully. For the first time in weeks he seemed truly relaxed, truly happy.
The assassin was dead. Gino was okay. Jed was on his way to recovery. J.T. was safe. And North Korea's hand had been called. Was it over? Was dawn finally burning away the nightmare? She prayed that it was.
But a second glance reminded her that, even though he had wowed the world tonight with his energy, his determination, he still struggled against the effects of an assassin's efforts. The lines of fatigue stretched down his face, even as he tried to drag together an upbeat façade for the Assistant Secretary of State, who had asked for a moment after Leo's exit.
It was time to call it a night. Mustering her own public face, she strode toward him, gently sliding a hand into the crook of his arm and sending the message by simple touch. His response pleased her.
With a smile, he dismissed the deputy cabinet member and turned to her, eyes grateful for the rescue. He brushed her cheek with his lips. "Hey, Beautiful."
Charmer. "Hey yourself, Handsome. What do you say we blow this party and create one of our own?"
His brow lifted in a wicked arch. "Blow?"
"If you're very good," she promised without missing a beat.
"I'm always very good," he assured her right back.
Well, that was true.
"Seriously, Jed, we need to get you into bed."
His brow lifted in a leer. "Donna, when you say 'we' – "
"You know what I mean."
He sighed, the teasing tone fading. "Yeah." No fuss, no protest. He was exhausted.
"Well then, Sundance," she decided, keeping her own voice light, "we're gonna make a break for it."
With a grin, he squeezed her hand. "Right behind you, Butch."
He stepped forward a little, enough to gain the attention of the room, which, when you are President of the United States, isn't too difficult. "Friends, I would like to thank you for your support and – presence tonight. When President Gerald Ford took office after the – resignation of President Nixon, he said, 'Our long national nightmare is over.' Donna and I feel almost the same way, but on a more personal note. These past few weeks have been a nightmare for our family – for Donna in particular."
When he allowed himself a glance toward her, she saw the brightness in his eyes. He turned away quickly. "And I want to say now to all of you how much I love her and – " The crack in his voice did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Donna saw more than one person lift a hand to wipe away their own tears. "– and how much she has meant to me – " His voice grew thicker, and he stopped for a moment, unable to continue. After a beat, he managed to get out the last few words. "– in these days."
He squeezed her hand again and kissed her gently, right there in front of everybody. Donna lost her battle to keep the tears from burning her eyes.
With a deep breath, he gathered control and finished. "But I believe it's over. And I believe our world will be a better place – because of the unity we have found, because of the support we've received from the international community. Thank you for your prayers. I hope you will – continue them for all of us. And now, it's been a long day and my wife and I will bid you goodnight."
Amid the good nights and well wishes of the crowd, the First Couple flowed past the guests and toward the Residence. No one seemed to begrudge their leader his early retirement, especially when they got a good look at the determination on the First Lady's face.
Three hours later, the Executive Mansion rested under a blanket of silence. The celebrants had left, J.T. had been cuddled and fed, the Secret Service had secured the building for the night. And the First Lady of the United States lay in her husband's arms, long blonde hair spread out over his chest, fingers tracing light circles on his abdomen.
Both of them still struggled to calm their breathing, to slow their pounding hearts after one of the most intense climaxes either had ever experienced. Donna wasn't sure what had prompted the fury that swept over them. Maybe it was the strain of the State of the Union. Maybe it was the capitulation of North Korea. Maybe it was delayed effects of the trauma of his wounds. Maybe it was a potent combination of all those things. But there was no question about the ferocity of their coupling that evening.
She listened to the hard beating inside his chest and was grateful that God had given them this second chance, that He had allowed the beating to continue past the firing of the bullet.
"Jed?"
"Hmm?" The voice told her he was just this side of consciousness.
"You okay?"
Her skin still remembered the wet heat of his tongue as it slid across her, her body still felt the pulsing burn deep inside as he trembled with the violent release that she knew was the literal and figurative climax of weeks of impossible stress and worry. It all seemed to erupt from him, punctuated by a harsh cry that somehow didn't draw the Secret Service to their door. As he drove into her, she had felt the bitterness drain from him, the cleansing waves wash through them both until his muscles refused to support him and he collapsed on top of her, gasping.
His breath came a little easier now as he responded vaguely, "Umm hmm."
And he was okay. She knew that now. They were both okay. They were all okay.
"That was incredible," she whispered into his chest, moving her hand up to run through the damp hair. Her legs still shook from the explosive response to his touch as he had claimed her with overpowering passion. Her muscles still quivered at her center, ached with the greed of someone who had devoured a gourmet meal, but still lusted after a decadent dessert.
The chef remained inarticulate. "Mmm."
"I think we need a shower."
Indeed, they were both slick with sweat and the copious evidence of their climax. The sheets would definitely need changing in the morning. He didn't answer. She raised her head enough to look at his face and smiled fondly at the sight. His tousled hair fell across his forehead, his expressive mouth parted slightly, allowing steady breaths in and out. Well, it could wait until later. Most certainly, he needed the rest, and it wasn't as if it was the first time she had slept on the wet spot, although she was having more trouble than usual finding a dry patch.
Draping one leg over his thighs, and clutching him tighter around the waist, she let herself drift with him into the respite of sleep.
"Mister President?"
The call was soft, but not soft enough to ignore, and the accompanying rap on the door roused the First Couple. Donna came fully awake as her husband slid out from under her protective limbs, cursing when he fell over the side of the bed. Stumbling across the room, he shrugged into a robe and flung open the door. Somewhere in her fuzzy brain, Donna hoped he had taken the time to tie the sash.
C.J. Cregg stood at the door, leaning forward slightly, her face coloring as she took in her boss' disheveled state. "I'm sorry, Mister President."
He didn't seem convinced. "Yeah?"
"Yes, sir. I really am, but – "
"But not sorry enough NOT to wake me in the middle of the night?"
She swallowed so loudly that Donna could hear it from the bed. "Well – "
Jed waved off her attempt at explanation. "Nevermind. What it is?"
Given a questionable reprieve, the Press Secretary stretched out her hand, which held a manila envelope. "This came a few minutes ago and I thought – "
Jed held out his hand with exaggerated patience, which showed exactly how little patience he really had at the time.
C.J. stepped back and tried to smile past him, but her long face remained drawn into more sober lines. Donna pulled the covers up a little higher and groped by the side of the bed until her hand fell on the long-discarded shirt Jed had worn the night before. Awkwardly, she slipped it on, dreading to see what C.J. had brought.
Please let us have tonight, at least, he thought. Nothing new. Nothing yet.
"What is it?" he asked, voice a little clearer, more alert.
The Press Secretary cut her eyes to the First Lady for a moment, then returned warily to the President. "It's – uh – it's a photograph, sir."
Jed froze for a moment. A photograph? THE photograph, perhaps? Donna had almost forgotten about the missing exposure, had almost let herself truly believe this thing was done. But a remnant of the nightmare still pecked at their happiness, at the resolution of the ordeal. What did this mean? Would they open up The Post tomorrow to be greeted with the President and First Lady en flagrant on the front page? What would the nation think to see definite evidence of the rumors. Talk was one thing, pictures something else entirely.
Slowly, he slid the glossy print from its sheath and Donna held her breath as she caught enough of the layout to recognize that it was, indeed, the remaining erotic photo of them from their heated encounter in the Oval Office. Probably the clearest – and most detailed – one of all. It was taken after he had lifted her onto the desk, after she had wrapped her legs around his waist, just as he was – well, it had certainly captured the height of their encounter. Even under his tan skin she could see the flush as he looked at the picture.
C.J. let her eyes gaze out the window, her own cheeks flaming.
Those famous blues had hardened to steel gray as he glared at her from under drawn brows. "The FBI has seen this?"
Donna winced. Of course. Pass it around. Everybody take a peek.
"Yes, sir. Mikki Chul's prints are the only clear ones on it. Or at least whoever we thought was – "
"Where?" he asked abruptly, his voice sharp.
"Where?"
"Where'd it come from?"
"Danny Concanon."
Danny had it. This was bad. So it was The Post. Legitimate news. She could already see the front page. The President of the United States and First Lady spread out over the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. Not only would it be humiliating for them, but the entire nation would stand red- faced before the world.
Danny? She had never really trusted Danny. With more worry for Jed than for her own modesty, she slid off the bed and moved to his side. But she did make sure all the significant buttons of his shirt were fastened.
Her husband's jaw pumped twice, then twice again, as he stared at the image. Donna felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she watched C.J.'s eyes dart between Jed and her.
"He's printing this?" the President asked tightly, gesturing with the photograph.
Would there be an accompanying story, or just the damning visual? Any doubts about the veracity of it would be shattered. Rumors were one thing, but how on earth could C.J. spin the actual graphic images?
The press secretary looked at them, mouth open as she realized what they thought. "Oh! No, sir! No! He's not – He's giving it back, Mister President."
Narrowing his eyes and turning his head as if he didn't hear her right, Jed asked, "What?"
"It was sent to The Post. He sent it back."
"He sent it back?"
He sent it back? He sent it back! She had always trusted Danny.
"When?" Jed asked.
"He got it yesterday, but the original envelope was postmarked a couple of weeks ago. Good old U.S. Mail, I guess. The FBI has it now, along with the negative, but I thought you'd want to know – "
"Yesterday?"
"Yes, sir."
"And he's sending it now?"
C.J. winced a little. "Well, he thought about it."
"Yeah."
"But he didn't do it."
"Okay."
"Yes, sir. Uh, there's a note, sir." C.J. gestured for him to check inside the envelope further.
Pulling out a smaller piece of paper, Jed glanced at Donna in disbelief. Then he stepped to the nightstand, picked up his glasses, slipped them on and read. "'Thought you might want this personal moment to stay that way.'"
Bless Danny Concanon, Donna thought. Bless him.
C.J. was grinning openly now, even through her embarrassment. All three looked at each other, feeling the final weight lift from their shoulders. After a long moment, the President chuckled and glanced back at the note.
"There's more," he added. Danny says, 'By the way, does the Oval Office – have curtains?'"
"Okay, I'm outta here," the Press Secretary declared, striding toward the door before she could be an unwilling witness to any more presidential intimacy. "Good night, Mister President. Good night, Mrs. Bartlet."
"What are you going to do with that?" Donna asked her husband as she gestured toward the erotic image.
He shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe I'll – save it for when I need a – turn on."
But her fingers found his lips just as he finished the sentence. Before he could say anything else, she replaced her fingers with her mouth and drew her body against his, loosening the robe so that he was completely open to her touch. As her hands slid down his stomach to cup him gently, he grunted and let the photo float to the floor, pulling her hips forward so that she could feel him swell between them.
"When you need a turn on, you just call me," she instructed, trailing her fingers around his sides and down his back.
"Oh yeah," he assured her, raising a hand to open the shirt and caress a breast. "You're my first call."
She reached down between them again and held him, a little harder than before. "I'm your ONLY call."
With mostly mock pain, he gasped. "Only call. Got it." Then they both laughed, and he pulled back to hold her face in his hands. "Donna – "
She returned the gaze and caught her breath at the intensity of the love in his eyes.
"I don't know how to tell you – I'm so grateful for – I can't imagine going through this without – "
Her fingers touched his lips again. "Shh. I can't imagine anything without you, Josiah." But she wasn't ready to let the emotion control them again. Not now. Now she wanted something else. "No more talking, all right?"
He let the smile overtake the poignancy in his expression. "No more talking? What should we do, then?"
"I have a few ideas." She tugged him toward the bed.
"Yeah?" He followed obediently.
"Yeah."
"I have an idea, too," he offered, leaving the robe in a puddle on the floor.
She felt her heart pump a little harder. "Yeah? What?"
Lowering her to the bed, he let his lips nibble at her neck, pressed his hard heat between her legs, and whispered, "How about tomorrow we check on those curtains for the Oval?"
As she arched upward to meet him, she groaned and decided that wasn't a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.
A Dagger Unseen – Epilogue A West Wing Story
by MAHC
"– don't think anyone anticipated it."
"No, I don't think so, Tom. The President erased any doubts about his ability to lead, and about his recovery."
"There were a few pauses, a few stumbles."
"Yes," agreed the medical expert from Johns Hopkins. Donna had forgotten her name. "But I think they made him even more impressive. We could see what he had overcome, what he had fought through. I have to say I was not expecting such a powerful performance from what we were hearing behind the scenes."
Tom Brokaw turned toward the camera, his familiar face crinkled slightly in a smile. "Thank you, Doctor Boris. Well, we've heard the Republican response to the State of the Union, and even as some of them stuck with partisan rebuttals, they could not help but give praise to President Bartlet. I think both sides of the aisle agree that he gave an impressive – "
Donna Bartlet grinned at the television, at the astonishment of the commentators, of the pundits, of the public in general. He had done it. Jed had done it, and even his wife had to admit to no small amazement over his accomplishment.
The atmosphere in the West Wing was almost giddy with relief, with excitement, with pride. Even Toby allowed himself a few smiles over the President's victorious visit to the Hill.
"He was incredible."
Donna turned just as C.J. handed her a glass of champagne. "Yes," she agreed, accepting the offered drink.
"I mean, I don't see how – well, when he was just – he couldn't even – and then he – He was incredible." Apparently the Press Secretary had already partaken in more than one glass of the bubbly herself. But Donna understood the gushing, had trouble keeping herself from it, as well.
She opened her mouth to respond, but a soft comment drew her instant attention.
"Of course, you know this means that before every speech, we have to – have sex."
Donna grinned at the whisper at her ear, but didn't turn. "Toby, I told you it'll have to be every other speech."
Jed Bartlet threw back his head and laughed, that deep true laugh that was his alone, turning the heads of those closest to the First Couple, drawing smiles from the visitors fortunate enough to be included in the celebration, heady with the success of the State of the Union, with the triumphant return of their Commander-in-Chief.
"No," he insisted, "every speech."
"Before and after, just to be on the safe side," she threw back.
"Well, then, we still have – the after, don't we?" The promise in his husky voice triggered a warm tingle deep inside her.
Oh yes. They still had the after. Before she had a chance to anticipate it, he had leaned in for a tender kiss, not too long, but not so brief that the cameras missed it. There was another photo for the paper tomorrow.
"Congratulations, Mister President." C.J. offered, her pink cheeks evidence that she had overheard their intimate banter.
"Thank you," Jed answered, pulling away from his wife to kiss the Press Secretary on the cheek, then turning to shake the approaching outstretched hands of Josh and Will as the two men conveyed their own praise.
"Grand slam, Mister President," Josh said, all dimples.
"Yes, sir. Game winning grand slam," added Will.
"Thanks," Jed returned simply.
They all turned as the Communications Director approached, the habitual scowl replaced by some unfamiliar expression that almost resembled a grin.
"Toby!" Jed called, slapping him on the back. "Sorry about the – ad lib at the beginning."
Now the grin finally appeared, broad and bright – for Toby anyway. "Well, sir, if you hadn't been on live television – "
"Coward."
"Yes, sir." But Donna watched as the younger man's eyes sharpened in a silent message: Pride. Affection. Triumph.
Jed nodded in return, words unnecessary between two men who had beaten the odds.
"Drinks all around!" Josh proposed, lifting his empty glass. "Empty the kegs of the kingdom."
"I think your keg's already been emptied, Sir Joshua," C.J. noted, her own grin threatening to get downright silly.
"That's Lord Joshua to you," he returned, and Donna couldn't help laughing aloud as they all were caught up in the joy.
But such moments frequently proved to be ephemeral in the world of earth's most powerful – and most pressured – leader. Even before they all saw him, the very aura of Leo's solemnity smothered their giddiness.
"Mister President?"
Jed turned and Donna watched his expression fall as he noticed his Chief of Staff. "Yeah?"
"May I have a word, sir?"
A word between the President of the United States and his Chief of Staff held much heavier significance than most. Donna sighed. It was always something. Couldn't he just have this time?
"Okay."
The two stepped away from the crowd, but not completely out of the room. Donna watched carefully, trying to tell what was being conveyed, trying to see Jed's reaction. She resented anyone who might cause him stress right now, even Leo. She watched as her husband bowed his head, cocking it slightly as he listened to whatever news the Chief of Staff had for him. Suddenly, the head came up, eyes staring into Leo's. His hand gripped his friend's arm. Donna was only a few seconds away from interfering, from protecting him. She tried to gather some hint about what was said from their expressions, but Jed only nodded and pursed his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, he patted Leo on the shoulder and returned to the group.
"Everything all right, sir?" C.J. asked. She was speaking for all of them.
He sighed and Donna closed her eyes against whatever disaster was now threatening them. Couldn't they catch even one break?
"The UN Secretary General called," he said.
Okay. To berate the President for his bold statements? To ask for more time or more leniency? Would the U.S. be an island in a sea of disagreement?
"They are calling a meeting of the Security Council tomorrow."
They waited. That could mean many things.
Then she saw it. Despite the straight line of his mouth, despite the furrowed brow, the eyes couldn't hide his true feelings. And those beautiful blues sparkled, belying his outward façade. He saw that she could see through him. Giving up the pretense, he allowed the smile to break through.
"He is asking for sanctions against North Korea and immediate IAEA inspections," he told them with a satisfied nod. "He expects the entire Security Council to back the request and to issue an official condemnation of North Korea's involvement in the attempt."
For a moment no one spoke. It was more than they could have hoped for. Then C.J. shook off the surprise and said, "That's – that's incredible." It seemed to be her word for the night. "Congratulations, sir."
"There is another thing, though," Jed added, his voice heavy with caution.
"China," Josh guessed.
"China," Jed confirmed.
"Have they issued a statement?" Toby asked.
"Yep."
"And?"
Jed sighed again. "The People's Republic of China pledges its complete support – "
Damn. Of course China would back North Korea. Now they would have a much more formidable adversary. It was another Korean War. Or perhaps worse. A war with the most populous country in the –
"– of the United Nations and the United States and vehemently condemns any actions supported by the Democratic Republic of Korea that might be connected to the reprehensible attack on the U.S. President." He lifted a brow. "That would be me."
Now she saw Leo step into their circle, his smirk breaking through the stone façade.
"What?" Will asked, or maybe it was Josh.
"China condemns – "
The Chief of Staff smiled openly now. "Vehemently condemns actions supported by North Korea."
"That's tantamount to – "
"To breaking relations," Jed supplied. "Probably doesn't mean they will. But it is – unprecedented."
"It blows away any validity North Korea had," Toby said. "Nobody will stand by them if China doesn't."
"And it will almost surely force their hand on the nuclear issue. All or nothing."
"What do we do now, sir?" Will wondered.
Jed took a beat as they all waited for his proclamation. He pressed his lips together, then allowed a smile to pull them apart. "We let the IAEA and the UN take it."
Several protests greeted his decision. Josh was the first to voice their bewilderment. "But, sir, they tried to – they killed the people on those planes. They almost killed you!"
Her husband cocked his head slightly, his tone patient but firm. "First, Josh, we still don't have a direct connection from the planes to the North Korean government. For that matter, we don't have a definitive connection to my – incident."
"But – "
"Second, let's say we do it. Let's say we strip North Korea of all self- government, of all military capability. What would happen?"
Six pairs of eyes stayed on him. No one spoke.
"It's been tried before," he told them. When no one ventured a guess as to when, he explained, "The Treaty of Versailles, 1919. Germany was left with nothing, except devastating poverty and a humiliation that hungered for anyone or anything that could rescue them."
Josh blanched. Toby shifted slightly and looked away.
Jed nodded at their comprehension. "We don't need another Hitler rising from the ruins of North Korea. And the – North Korean people don't need that either. We guide, we even dictate, perhaps, some safeguards, but we don't – administer the death sentence for their government. It could very well be our own."
Now he smiled and shrugged slightly. "Besides, it's our turn, now, to be – magnanimous. We offer the olive branch."
"That seems awfully forgiving of you, sir, considering – "
Jed waved off the suggestion of his surprising benevolence. "Yeah. Well, what do we win by forcing them to build a bomb? Aren't we supposed to be the good guys?"
No one spoke for awhile. Then Leo nodded, a fond smile curving his lips. "Yes, sir. We are." After a moment, the smile broke into a grin and he asked, "Defer to the UN?"
"Defer."
"Final answer?"
With a confident nod, the President of the United States confirmed, "Final answer. Besides," he grinned, lifting Donna's fingers to his lips, "I have plans."
The others grinned back, happy that their leader was back, happy that the world seemed to support them, and happy that, for the first time in a long time, no sinister mysteries hung over their heads.
As the Chief of Staff disappeared through the crowd to relay his boss' instructions to the Joint Chiefs, Donna watched Jed carefully. For the first time in weeks he seemed truly relaxed, truly happy.
The assassin was dead. Gino was okay. Jed was on his way to recovery. J.T. was safe. And North Korea's hand had been called. Was it over? Was dawn finally burning away the nightmare? She prayed that it was.
But a second glance reminded her that, even though he had wowed the world tonight with his energy, his determination, he still struggled against the effects of an assassin's efforts. The lines of fatigue stretched down his face, even as he tried to drag together an upbeat façade for the Assistant Secretary of State, who had asked for a moment after Leo's exit.
It was time to call it a night. Mustering her own public face, she strode toward him, gently sliding a hand into the crook of his arm and sending the message by simple touch. His response pleased her.
With a smile, he dismissed the deputy cabinet member and turned to her, eyes grateful for the rescue. He brushed her cheek with his lips. "Hey, Beautiful."
Charmer. "Hey yourself, Handsome. What do you say we blow this party and create one of our own?"
His brow lifted in a wicked arch. "Blow?"
"If you're very good," she promised without missing a beat.
"I'm always very good," he assured her right back.
Well, that was true.
"Seriously, Jed, we need to get you into bed."
His brow lifted in a leer. "Donna, when you say 'we' – "
"You know what I mean."
He sighed, the teasing tone fading. "Yeah." No fuss, no protest. He was exhausted.
"Well then, Sundance," she decided, keeping her own voice light, "we're gonna make a break for it."
With a grin, he squeezed her hand. "Right behind you, Butch."
He stepped forward a little, enough to gain the attention of the room, which, when you are President of the United States, isn't too difficult. "Friends, I would like to thank you for your support and – presence tonight. When President Gerald Ford took office after the – resignation of President Nixon, he said, 'Our long national nightmare is over.' Donna and I feel almost the same way, but on a more personal note. These past few weeks have been a nightmare for our family – for Donna in particular."
When he allowed himself a glance toward her, she saw the brightness in his eyes. He turned away quickly. "And I want to say now to all of you how much I love her and – " The crack in his voice did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Donna saw more than one person lift a hand to wipe away their own tears. "– and how much she has meant to me – " His voice grew thicker, and he stopped for a moment, unable to continue. After a beat, he managed to get out the last few words. "– in these days."
He squeezed her hand again and kissed her gently, right there in front of everybody. Donna lost her battle to keep the tears from burning her eyes.
With a deep breath, he gathered control and finished. "But I believe it's over. And I believe our world will be a better place – because of the unity we have found, because of the support we've received from the international community. Thank you for your prayers. I hope you will – continue them for all of us. And now, it's been a long day and my wife and I will bid you goodnight."
Amid the good nights and well wishes of the crowd, the First Couple flowed past the guests and toward the Residence. No one seemed to begrudge their leader his early retirement, especially when they got a good look at the determination on the First Lady's face.
Three hours later, the Executive Mansion rested under a blanket of silence. The celebrants had left, J.T. had been cuddled and fed, the Secret Service had secured the building for the night. And the First Lady of the United States lay in her husband's arms, long blonde hair spread out over his chest, fingers tracing light circles on his abdomen.
Both of them still struggled to calm their breathing, to slow their pounding hearts after one of the most intense climaxes either had ever experienced. Donna wasn't sure what had prompted the fury that swept over them. Maybe it was the strain of the State of the Union. Maybe it was the capitulation of North Korea. Maybe it was delayed effects of the trauma of his wounds. Maybe it was a potent combination of all those things. But there was no question about the ferocity of their coupling that evening.
She listened to the hard beating inside his chest and was grateful that God had given them this second chance, that He had allowed the beating to continue past the firing of the bullet.
"Jed?"
"Hmm?" The voice told her he was just this side of consciousness.
"You okay?"
Her skin still remembered the wet heat of his tongue as it slid across her, her body still felt the pulsing burn deep inside as he trembled with the violent release that she knew was the literal and figurative climax of weeks of impossible stress and worry. It all seemed to erupt from him, punctuated by a harsh cry that somehow didn't draw the Secret Service to their door. As he drove into her, she had felt the bitterness drain from him, the cleansing waves wash through them both until his muscles refused to support him and he collapsed on top of her, gasping.
His breath came a little easier now as he responded vaguely, "Umm hmm."
And he was okay. She knew that now. They were both okay. They were all okay.
"That was incredible," she whispered into his chest, moving her hand up to run through the damp hair. Her legs still shook from the explosive response to his touch as he had claimed her with overpowering passion. Her muscles still quivered at her center, ached with the greed of someone who had devoured a gourmet meal, but still lusted after a decadent dessert.
The chef remained inarticulate. "Mmm."
"I think we need a shower."
Indeed, they were both slick with sweat and the copious evidence of their climax. The sheets would definitely need changing in the morning. He didn't answer. She raised her head enough to look at his face and smiled fondly at the sight. His tousled hair fell across his forehead, his expressive mouth parted slightly, allowing steady breaths in and out. Well, it could wait until later. Most certainly, he needed the rest, and it wasn't as if it was the first time she had slept on the wet spot, although she was having more trouble than usual finding a dry patch.
Draping one leg over his thighs, and clutching him tighter around the waist, she let herself drift with him into the respite of sleep.
"Mister President?"
The call was soft, but not soft enough to ignore, and the accompanying rap on the door roused the First Couple. Donna came fully awake as her husband slid out from under her protective limbs, cursing when he fell over the side of the bed. Stumbling across the room, he shrugged into a robe and flung open the door. Somewhere in her fuzzy brain, Donna hoped he had taken the time to tie the sash.
C.J. Cregg stood at the door, leaning forward slightly, her face coloring as she took in her boss' disheveled state. "I'm sorry, Mister President."
He didn't seem convinced. "Yeah?"
"Yes, sir. I really am, but – "
"But not sorry enough NOT to wake me in the middle of the night?"
She swallowed so loudly that Donna could hear it from the bed. "Well – "
Jed waved off her attempt at explanation. "Nevermind. What it is?"
Given a questionable reprieve, the Press Secretary stretched out her hand, which held a manila envelope. "This came a few minutes ago and I thought – "
Jed held out his hand with exaggerated patience, which showed exactly how little patience he really had at the time.
C.J. stepped back and tried to smile past him, but her long face remained drawn into more sober lines. Donna pulled the covers up a little higher and groped by the side of the bed until her hand fell on the long-discarded shirt Jed had worn the night before. Awkwardly, she slipped it on, dreading to see what C.J. had brought.
Please let us have tonight, at least, he thought. Nothing new. Nothing yet.
"What is it?" he asked, voice a little clearer, more alert.
The Press Secretary cut her eyes to the First Lady for a moment, then returned warily to the President. "It's – uh – it's a photograph, sir."
Jed froze for a moment. A photograph? THE photograph, perhaps? Donna had almost forgotten about the missing exposure, had almost let herself truly believe this thing was done. But a remnant of the nightmare still pecked at their happiness, at the resolution of the ordeal. What did this mean? Would they open up The Post tomorrow to be greeted with the President and First Lady en flagrant on the front page? What would the nation think to see definite evidence of the rumors. Talk was one thing, pictures something else entirely.
Slowly, he slid the glossy print from its sheath and Donna held her breath as she caught enough of the layout to recognize that it was, indeed, the remaining erotic photo of them from their heated encounter in the Oval Office. Probably the clearest – and most detailed – one of all. It was taken after he had lifted her onto the desk, after she had wrapped her legs around his waist, just as he was – well, it had certainly captured the height of their encounter. Even under his tan skin she could see the flush as he looked at the picture.
C.J. let her eyes gaze out the window, her own cheeks flaming.
Those famous blues had hardened to steel gray as he glared at her from under drawn brows. "The FBI has seen this?"
Donna winced. Of course. Pass it around. Everybody take a peek.
"Yes, sir. Mikki Chul's prints are the only clear ones on it. Or at least whoever we thought was – "
"Where?" he asked abruptly, his voice sharp.
"Where?"
"Where'd it come from?"
"Danny Concanon."
Danny had it. This was bad. So it was The Post. Legitimate news. She could already see the front page. The President of the United States and First Lady spread out over the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. Not only would it be humiliating for them, but the entire nation would stand red- faced before the world.
Danny? She had never really trusted Danny. With more worry for Jed than for her own modesty, she slid off the bed and moved to his side. But she did make sure all the significant buttons of his shirt were fastened.
Her husband's jaw pumped twice, then twice again, as he stared at the image. Donna felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she watched C.J.'s eyes dart between Jed and her.
"He's printing this?" the President asked tightly, gesturing with the photograph.
Would there be an accompanying story, or just the damning visual? Any doubts about the veracity of it would be shattered. Rumors were one thing, but how on earth could C.J. spin the actual graphic images?
The press secretary looked at them, mouth open as she realized what they thought. "Oh! No, sir! No! He's not – He's giving it back, Mister President."
Narrowing his eyes and turning his head as if he didn't hear her right, Jed asked, "What?"
"It was sent to The Post. He sent it back."
"He sent it back?"
He sent it back? He sent it back! She had always trusted Danny.
"When?" Jed asked.
"He got it yesterday, but the original envelope was postmarked a couple of weeks ago. Good old U.S. Mail, I guess. The FBI has it now, along with the negative, but I thought you'd want to know – "
"Yesterday?"
"Yes, sir."
"And he's sending it now?"
C.J. winced a little. "Well, he thought about it."
"Yeah."
"But he didn't do it."
"Okay."
"Yes, sir. Uh, there's a note, sir." C.J. gestured for him to check inside the envelope further.
Pulling out a smaller piece of paper, Jed glanced at Donna in disbelief. Then he stepped to the nightstand, picked up his glasses, slipped them on and read. "'Thought you might want this personal moment to stay that way.'"
Bless Danny Concanon, Donna thought. Bless him.
C.J. was grinning openly now, even through her embarrassment. All three looked at each other, feeling the final weight lift from their shoulders. After a long moment, the President chuckled and glanced back at the note.
"There's more," he added. Danny says, 'By the way, does the Oval Office – have curtains?'"
"Okay, I'm outta here," the Press Secretary declared, striding toward the door before she could be an unwilling witness to any more presidential intimacy. "Good night, Mister President. Good night, Mrs. Bartlet."
"What are you going to do with that?" Donna asked her husband as she gestured toward the erotic image.
He shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe I'll – save it for when I need a – turn on."
But her fingers found his lips just as he finished the sentence. Before he could say anything else, she replaced her fingers with her mouth and drew her body against his, loosening the robe so that he was completely open to her touch. As her hands slid down his stomach to cup him gently, he grunted and let the photo float to the floor, pulling her hips forward so that she could feel him swell between them.
"When you need a turn on, you just call me," she instructed, trailing her fingers around his sides and down his back.
"Oh yeah," he assured her, raising a hand to open the shirt and caress a breast. "You're my first call."
She reached down between them again and held him, a little harder than before. "I'm your ONLY call."
With mostly mock pain, he gasped. "Only call. Got it." Then they both laughed, and he pulled back to hold her face in his hands. "Donna – "
She returned the gaze and caught her breath at the intensity of the love in his eyes.
"I don't know how to tell you – I'm so grateful for – I can't imagine going through this without – "
Her fingers touched his lips again. "Shh. I can't imagine anything without you, Josiah." But she wasn't ready to let the emotion control them again. Not now. Now she wanted something else. "No more talking, all right?"
He let the smile overtake the poignancy in his expression. "No more talking? What should we do, then?"
"I have a few ideas." She tugged him toward the bed.
"Yeah?" He followed obediently.
"Yeah."
"I have an idea, too," he offered, leaving the robe in a puddle on the floor.
She felt her heart pump a little harder. "Yeah? What?"
Lowering her to the bed, he let his lips nibble at her neck, pressed his hard heat between her legs, and whispered, "How about tomorrow we check on those curtains for the Oval?"
As she arched upward to meet him, she groaned and decided that wasn't a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.