I could jump you.

No, you couldn't. You're stuck in the hospital bed, and you're weak.

I could try.

That would be a bad idea. I look up from a biography of Jackie Kennedy I'm reading.

You're so sexy over there.

Shut up, Jed. You rest there for awhile. My husband is aggravating, but he's so cute stuck there with pain medication in his system.

When do I get to go home?

When I say so.

You don't have power over when I go home.

No, but I like to pretend I do.



Honestly, Jed. Go to sleep before I kill you.

Just then, Leo knocks on the door. Who's killing whom?

She is, Jed grumbles as he finally leans back against the pillow. He closes his eyes, but only for a moment.

I don't know what's wong with me. I used to love Leo like a brother, but somehow some part of me began to blame Leo for Zoey's kidnapping, and I can't convince myself that it's not his fault. I stiffen as Leo crosses over to Jed's bed.

How are you doing, sir?

Abbey's going to kill me because I won't shut up, and also because I didn't tell her I had some flu symptoms. I had a cough, a runny nose, and every so often, I had a bit of a headache.

Why didn't you mention that to anyone?

I didn't know I had the flu.

You had a cough, a runny nose, and a headache and nothing tipped you off that you might have the flu?

Yeah, well, I wanted to flick the switch for the tree lighting ceremony.

Your logic never fails to amaze me, sir.

What's going on back at the White House?

I don't think you're ready to hear this.

Of course I am, Leo. Am I not the commander-in-chief of the most powerful army in the world?

I listen to them banter for a little bit longer while pretending to be interested in my Jackie Kennedy biography.

Jed turns to me suddenly. You okay, honey?

Yeah, I'm just reading my book.

No, you're not.

How the hell do you know?

You haven't turned any of those pages for minutes.

The writer is loquacious, Jed.

You're not concentrating.

You realize I can take him, right? I say to Leo.

Yes, you can, he says, giving me a nervous smile.

Jed seems to notice that something's not okay. I'm going to take a nap. Do you two want to talk about something with each other? he asks, giving me a pointed look.

You didn't seem tired before.

I am now, Abigail. To complete his performance, he even fakes a yawn.

You think you're so cute, Mr. President, I say, standing up and crossing over to peck him on the forehead.

I am cute.

You're doped up on drugs.

That too. This time he emits a genuine yawn, and closes his eyes for a moment.

Are you sure you want to take a nap?





Leo says good-bye and we walk outside and roam the hospital hallways.

So, Leo, I just want to say--

I'm so sorry, he says, overlapping my sentence.

I nod and swallow. This will be a difficult conversation. How's everything going with AA?

Better. Mallory has been watching over me like a mother hen, which is doing wonders. Even Jenny has called to make sure I'm okay. Mallory alerted her to the fact I haven't been doing well.

I'm glad you have such support.

I am, too. And I wanted to say, I relapsed because there are certain things that--

I made a mistake, Leo. I shouldn't have blamed you for the kidnapping.

We stop in front of the hospital cafeteria. You've made many mistakes, Abbey. I wince at that, but he doesn't stop. He continues ripping my heart out. But I'm not sure how many of them are your fault and how many of them are situational.

You've made mistakes, too. I'd say not telling the international community about Shareef was one, to begin with.

We continue walking, aimlessly. Yeah, and I wish it was different.

So do I. There are a lot of things I wish.

Abbey, in AA we learn that some things are not our fault. Some things are, and we acknowledge them and make amends. But other mistakes just happen because of the way life is. And those we put behind us.

I'm sorry for blaming you, I whisper. There's something releasing, something almost redeeming about coming to terms with this. We stop in front of a large room.

And I'm sorry about Shareef. I'm sorry I didn't come to you earlier.

I'm sorry about the way I've treated you.



We hug for a long time, and then I step back. Friends, still?

I think I can handle that, Leo says, a smile twisting at the corner of his mouth. He walks away and I stand for a minute in that spot. Fittingly, I realize, we've been standing in front of the hospital chapel.

****
After praying in the chapel for a long time, I get up from the uncomfortable pews and head to the cafeteria. Looking after Jed and praying has made me both tired and hungry, and I think if I get a bite to eat I'll feel better.

I order something to eat, trying to ignore the looks of surprise as I order food like an average person, and dig into my soup and coffee as soon as I find a booth.

The tv is turned to CNN, and just as I look up at the tv (it's become a habit of mine to watch CNN whenever it's on) the news about Jed changes to BREAKING NEWS.

We've just been informed that five minutes ago the U.S. Embassy in Saudia Arabia has been bombed. There have been no formal statements saying whether anyone has been hurt. We haven't heard from the embassador yet, but apparently he was at work this evening. We'll keep you posted throughout the night.

The camera pans to screaming people in the street, ashes, rubble, and everything else frightening you can think of. I stand up and throw away the rest of my food, having lost whatever was left of my appetite.

I walk back upstairs to Jed's room, and Ellie is sitting by his bed.

Look who woke me up, Jed says, with a twinkle in his eye.

Dad wasn't asleep, Ellie says, smiling.

Thanks for ratting on me.

No problem.

I fight a wave of nausea. I don't know why the bombing has affected me so much. After all, it was on another country. Far away from us.

And then it hits me. Jed knows the ambassador to Saudia Arabia, because he knows all the current ambassadors. Because he can recite everyone's name and where they work, and all the dangerous sites.

Because it could have been him.

Abigail, you don't look so good, he says, squinting at me. What's the matter?

The Saudia Arabian Embassy has been bombed, I say dully.

Were there people there?

I nod slowly. They haven't heard from the ambassador. They're waiting to find out if he's okay.

Samir Hulman?



****

Jedidiah, you stubborn old mule, use your cane.

Canes are for sissies.

Use the damn cane.

Abigail, I don't need it.



I stand back, knowing in a few moments I'll be able to prove him wrong.

It's a day later, and my husband is doing fine. Either that, or the nurse got so sick of him she gave him a cane and told him to do whatever the hell he wanted.

I think it might be a little bit of both.

He glares at me as he swings his legs over the bed and stands. He's really wobbly, but manages to take a few steps before his hand reaches out and finds the wall to lean on.

What do you think now, Mr. Alberto Salazar?

Give me the cane, he says, snatching it out of my hand.

Now, walk around a few steps and see how you feel.

I still don't think I need it.

You lost some of your muscle strength in your legs, Jed.

You make it sound like I just had a stroke.

No, you just had an MS attack. Now be a good boy and use the cane.

He walks around the hospital room and glares at me. Now are you happy?

I'll be happy when you get back to work and you're Leo's problem.

You love me, he says as we walk out into the hallway and out to the limo. Why we ride a limo from the hospital to the White House is beyond me.

That I do.

As we slide into the limo, I lean over and kiss him.

My aunt always used to tell me that you lose some of the initial love you have for a man. That after awhile, their kisses don't make your heart flutter in the way it used to, that you have sex because it's what you do with your husband.

Either she didn't know what she was talking about or Josiah Bartlet is the most charming man I know, because my heart still flutters and I love him the same way I did thirty-four years ago.

Mr. President, when you go back to being the most powerful man on earth, what are you going to do next?

Oh, I don't know. Will you make the bed soft and fluffy for us tonight?

I'll do whatever you want me to. Eagle's going to be one very lucky man tonight.

he says, and kisses me again.

****
Later that night, Jed holds me to him. I can smell the remnants of his cologne on his neck, and I breathe it in, savoring the soft, elegant smell.

I am content.

Suddenly, I hear an audible sigh coming from the man I love and sit up. Are you all right, darling?

He doesn't sound okay at all.

I begin, rubbing his bare chest and staring in his sad eyes.

He blinks slowly and sighs again.

Did work get to you?

No, Abbey, work never gets to me, because I don't have a depressing job at all, he snaps. Jed sits up, too. Josh can't get the tax reform bill passed because most of the country, and almost all of Congress, thinks I'm too weak to run the country, much less lay down the law and let them know the bill is something worth passing. He's said this all very fast.

And I just found out the bombing in Saudia Arabia has left at least eight people dead and they're waiting for someone to identify all the bodies, but one of those people might have been Samir Hulman, he finishes.

Oh, honey, I say, because that's the only thing I can think of to say. And then, Honey, you're depressed.

How the hell do you know?

I did, in fact, get my medical degree.

You did, did you? he says, half-smiling.

Yes. And a common side effect for people with diseases like Multiple Sclerosis is depression. Jed, you're just depressed. And tired and angry, but that's for another time. Honey, the best thing you can do is sleep. It'll wear off eventually.

He sits back and I watch his clear blue eyes stare up at the ceiling for awhile. You've got a point there, Dr. Bartlet.

I sit back, too, and continue rubbing his stomach. Just close your eyes.

My eyes are closed.

No, they're not.

How the hell do you know?

I've been married to you for thirty-four years, Jed. I know when your eyes are not closed.

There's a long silence, and I lie there awake as Jed's breathing becomes regulated.

It's only when I'm positive he's asleep that I begin to drift off into unconsiousness.