Thursday, May 22, 20017
Manchester, NH
Jed was wearing his favorite suit. Abbey Bartlet gazed down at her husband. It wasn't her husband anymore, though. She needed to keep telling herself that. For all of the medical science she had been taught, she couldn't help but believe that Jed had a spirit that was now in a better place. She had to believe it. If she didn't, then her husband of nearly fifty years was just gone.
She had come to the funeral home to see over the final preparations for her husband. An attendant stood beside her, ready to jump into action if anything about her husband was even slightly off. Behind her stood Charlie. Thank God for Charlie. Charlie was her Rock of Gibraltar. He and the library staff were taking care of everything so that she could be left alone in her grief.
"Ma'am," Charlie said, "we have to choose. The honor guard is already forming outside."
Charlie held up two neckties; one with darkblue and maroon stripes, the other just black. She once again gazed down at her husband in the oak casket. Poor Jed. How he had aged in the eleven years since leaving public life. With the white hair, and wrinkles no one would have recognized him if he wouldn't have still been making the occasional public appearance. She brushed her hand against his face. He was cold. She was really just trying to stall things. She knew that as soon as the necktie was slipped around her husbands shirt collar, the casket would be closed. She would never see him again. She finally decided to quit playing games.
"I like the blue and maroon one."
With a tight smile, the funeral director plucked the tie from Charlie's hand and expertly tied it around the president's neck. He glanced at Abbey.
"Go ahead and close it," she nearly whispered.
As the lid closed, she said it one more time. Only she and his spirit would hear. "I love you, Jed."
Concord Municipal Airport
New Hampshire had the dreariest weather! It was May...May! There was still cloud cover and a chill in the air. Compared to Palm Springs, though, any weather would be dreary by comparison. C.J. Cregg walked from the tarmac to the small terminal building. The building was nearly deserted despite the fact that a plane had just landed. Not many people passed through New Hampshire, apparently.
"Ms. Cregg?"
C.J. Turned when she heard her name called. A young man in a cheap looking blue blazer stood in a corner of the room. She walked up to him with hand outstretched.
"Hi, I'm C.J. Cregg. You must be from the Bartlet Library."
"Yes ma'am," he replied as he shook her hand and grabbed her carry on bag. "I'm Andy, and I'll drive you to the state house for the service."
"Well, Andy, lead the way."
C.J. hadn't seen anyone from the administration in over a year. The last time they were all together was in January to commemorate the 10 year anniversary of the administration's end. C.J. Thought about the time that had elapsed since she left public life. The night of Bob Russell's inauguration, she hopped a flight from Reagan National to Cleveland, Ohio. The next eight months were a whirlwind as she watched her father slowly deteriorate. His death came more as a relief than anything else. She stayed in Ohio a while longer to take care of things and finish her White House memoir.
After things in Ohio were settled, she took the advance money her book's publisher had giver her and bought a small condo in Palm Springs. She had always dreamed of returning to California. She worked for a short time at a small production company, doing the work she was doing before that fateful day when Toby Zeigler pulled her into the political arena. While there, she was introduced to a man named Aaron Sorkin who was planning to create a dramatic series about the inner workings of the White House. She became a creative consultant on the show, and now made a comfortable living.
"You know," Andy said as he pulled his car out onto the road, I met him just the other day."
C.J. Had been daydreaming about all of her old friends. She was a little confused as Andy brought her out of it.
"President Bartlet," Andy said, helpfully. "I met him a few weeks ago. I've only been working there for a few months, but that was the only time I got to meet him. I was just a kid when he left the White House. Even so, when I shook his hand, I felt like I was part of something really amazing and important."
"Andy," C.J. Said, "I've known him a lot longer than you, but that feeling never goes away."
Same Time
Washington, DC
White House
President Glenn Allen Walken's giant frame made the springs in his chair groan as he sat down behind his desk in the Oval Office. The television on the sideboard was on and tuned to the FOX News Channel (what else?). He watched live coverage of the flag draped casket being loaded into a hearse with the presidential seal on the doors. Once upon a time, he and Jed Bartlet had fought like cats and dogs. They disagreed on almost everything having to do with politics and governance. Despite that, however, they had always had a mutual respect for one another. That respect had deepened in 2003 when Bartlet's youngest daughter had been kidnapped, and Walken had been called upon to take the reigns of command as acting president.
Currently, Walken's speechwriters were working on appropriate eulogy. As the president (and a damn popular one at that), Walken knew that it was his job to speak for the nation as a whole. That was something that his detractors often said that he didn't know how to do. If he didn't, though, how the hell did he win two landslide presidential election victories? He was a victor. He knew that history was written by the victors, so his critics could go and take a flying leap. Bartlet had been a victor too. After all the smoke and mirrors of a Congressional censure, an assination attempt, a kidnapping, Bartlet had come out a winner.
Walken lifted his bulk from his chair and walked across the room. He had a few minutes before he had to meet with the FBI director. For no more than a second did he think about the prudence of drinking at 11:40 in the morning. He poured a glass of Jack Daniels and looked back at the television. A small motorcade merged onto an interstate highway in New Hampshire. Jed Bartlet was making a final journey to Concord where there would be a special ceremony at the State House.
Walken raised his glass. "Godspeed, Mr. President."