Title: Bipartisanship

Author: ScarlettMithruiel

Classification: For this chap? A, and R

Rating: Er…PG-1—I mean, T?

Disclaimer: Wow. Could you imagine how much John Wells would kill me if they were mine?

Author's Note: Definitely wrote this while I was watching the Incredibles. You know, Edna inspires me so much. I love her. "So ask me now before I again become sane." Anyway, enjoy. Hope they're in character. Lots of thanks to Morgan, who beta'd.


She needed alcohol. Excessive amounts of alcohol. And where would she find something like that? In the liquor cabinet on the bus. She felt a little woozy as she poured herself more whiskey. Her father had always preferred whiskey to anything else. "A man's drink," he called it. She downed the shot of whiskey. A thought seemed to meander into her mind, elbowing its way through the haze. Who knew Democrats consumed this much liquor? She had not moved. She had stayed in the little hiding space, curtains drawn, with a full bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. She wondered if Sam was worried about her. And then she pushed the thought from her mind.

She needed to forget about him. She needed to drink herself into an unconscious stupor. In the back of her mind, a nagging thought persisted that the phrase was redundant. Like she gave a shit. The two main objectives in her mind right now were drink, and forget. And if she could accomplish both by just exercising the first, so be it. Then, the random thought prodded through. What if she died? With a bitter smile, she mentally replied. Then he'd be sorry. He'd be sorry I drank to forget him. Pursing her lips, she poured another shot of whiskey and downed it.

She heard approaching noises, and she tried to curl into the corner. Except, there was no room to do anything but sit there. She heard the sound, and before she had time to react, the curtain was drawn open. It was Josh. "Ainsley, what are you doing here?"

She smirked. "What does it look like I'm doing here?" she quipped. She was master of the cutting sarcasm. Yes, she had been Queen of the Quips in her day. Quips. Q-Tips. God, she'd love to stab Sam with a Q-Tip right now. Especially if he would die. Could you die if you were stabbed with a Q-Tip?

"Probably not," came the reply.

She blushed. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah. Come on, you're going to your room." He took her arm and as she began to follow him in the hallway, it was then she realized that she shared a room with Sam. Because they were engaged. Were engaged. Not any longer. He left her by the doorway, and she reached for the doorknob, hand shaking. She twisted it and walked inside, breathing a sigh of relief at finding it empty. Have I told Mom? Dad knows already. But he wouldn't tell her. She vaguely recognized her cell phone, resting on top of her clothing, where she last left it, when her eyes began to glaze over slightly. She stumbled over and picked it up, sloppily dialing her home phone number. It took a few attempts to get it right. God, whiskey really does a number on you. Only one thought kept her posture perfect. I'm from the South, and if there's anything Southerners can do, they can hold their goddamn liquor. She half-smiled. Dad would be proud of me. Her mother picked up after the third ring. Or so.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom."

"Ainsley. What a surprise. Are you guys leaving?"

"Oh, no," she drawled. "I just wanted to tell you that Sam postponed the wedding." She heard her mother gasp. "Not indefinitely. Just for now."

"Why?" Louise cried, shocked.

"I just wanted to tell you, Mom. Okay? I'm going to go now. Bye." And before her mother could speak in protest, she ended the call, and shut the phone off. She walked out of the room, and sloppily shoved Josh's curtain aside. "Josh?" He raised his head, his eyes half-open.

"Yeah?" he replied, groggily.

"We're leaving in the morning?"

"No, Ainsley. We're leaving now. At the fucking crack of dawn."

"No need to get hostile. Sheesh. I see what CJ meant when she said…"

"I'm not fucking hostile. And there's no secret plan to fight inflation. God, doesn't anyone recognize sarcasm anymore?" He pulled the curtain shut. Well, if they weren't leaving til morning, might as well go to a club. Get more alcohol into her system, dance provocatively with strange men, and forget about Sam. Sounds like a plan. She ran into her room and quickly changed, grabbing her purse. Before the night was through, Ainsley Hayes was determined to enjoy herself.


"Adam, you idiot!" Louise's shrill voice cried. Now, Louise Hayes was usually a docile little creature, but when angered, she flared, and she could wreak hell on anything. Adam Hayes nervously peeked his head out of the kitchen.

"What are you talking about?" He headed out of the kitchen into the living room where she was, hand still poised above the phone.

"What the hell'd you go and do that for?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw what you did the other morning, when Sam and Ainsley were here. I saw it…and I didn't say anything, because I thought, Ainsley lived with us for pretty much half of her life. She'll know that her father's being a stupid fucking idiot and she'll tell her fiance and everything will be fine. But guess what, Adam?" Her brown eyes were raging with anger and the pupils were dilating in the darkness of the room to intimidating heights. I never thought I could be intimidated by her goddamn pupils, he thought. "Everything's not fine."

"Ainsley visited us with her fiance, and we met him. You liked him, right? Everything's all fine and well. Just sit down and knit or crochet or sew something, Louise."

"I will not be appeased like a baby, Adam. And let me tell you, if you fucking ask me to sew, knit, or crochet, let me remind you that all those activities involve needles and there is something more appealing I could do with needles than knit. Say, like, stab you!" Her fists were clenched at her sides. "Her wedding's postponed."

He wrinkled his forehead. "She postponed her wedding?"

"No. Sam postponed the wedding. You know why Sam postponed the wedding?" He shook his head. "Because you're an asshole who decided to play with people's lives. He didn't know that you're an imbecile incapable of handling anything when they don't go your way. He thought that you weren't happy with him. And that's why he postponed the wedding. Because he cares about our daughter."

"How do you know this?" he replied, casually.

"Honey," she replied, the endearment strained, "I fed the boy. I gave the boy food. You understand? I gave him nourishment."

"You gave him a piece of fried chicken. It's not like you adopted the boy for half a year." She rolled her eyes at his childish reply.

"Leave it to you to stray from the main path. Missing the goddamn forest for the trees. The point is I fed him. I could read him like a book. He loved Ainsley. Very much. And you screwed it up by trying to set her up with her prom date. Her goddamn prom date who works at the bank, rather than Sam, who happens to be a presidential candidate!"

"I realize that in comparison Zach isn't…"

"In comparison? When you compare Zach and Sam, Zach is primordial ooze! You sacrificed our daughter's happiness because you have your own idea of who she's supposed to marry, don't you?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

She heaved a sigh. "Adam, you might not have known this, but my father didn't want me to marry you."

He looked shocked. "Why?"

"He wanted me to marry the kid across the street whom I have known since I was three, rather than you, whom I met when I was in school."

"Alan Meyers?" She nodded. "He wanted you to marry Alan Meyers? That no-good…" She interrupted him.

"That's what my father thought about you. And that's what you thought about Sam. So obviously, it is not out of the realm of possibility that you're wrong. You just don't like Sam."

"I don't."

"Get over it. Because Ainsley does. And you will give them your blessing if I have to force feed him to you." He looked confused at her last analogy. "…never mind. Just give them your blessing." She headed into the kitchen. He heard a loud raucous of clanging bowls and pots and pans. He then heard the sound of a knife being violently slammed into the cutting board. She headed back out into the living room then, dropping a bowl onto the coffee table. "Eat the goddamn salad or I will lay waste to you." Nodding feebly, he walked into the kitchen to fetch a fork.


Ainsley glanced around the crowded club. Ordering a drink from a bartender, she turned to face the crowd. A man, brown hair, walked up to her. Grinning, he took her hand. "What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" he drawled. She winced at the pick-up line. It sounded so crude.

"Nothing," she replied. "Just enjoying a drink."

He winked at her. "How about you enjoy a drink at my place?" She nodded as her stomach began to churn with nausea. He was not Sam. He was never going to be Sam. But tonight wasn't about Sam. Tonight was about her. And besides, she could always get up early in the morning and leave. Sam would never know. And with that knowledge in her brain, she took his proferred hand and walked out of the club.