Thanks for your feedback. Enjoy this Jed/Donna. Next time I visit them, I'll be my mean self again with a real crisis.
On the Wall – Epilogue
A West Wing Story
As I Was Drifting Away Series
By MAHC
POV: Donna
Spoilers: "H-Con 172" (minor)
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: Except for J.T., these are not my characters.
His strong, square hands slid over her hips, his touch burning her skin. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the exquisite sensation. Pushing into his touch, she urged him to move faster and clutched at his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his waist.
Her heart pounded, her limbs trembled, her neck arched, forcing her head back into the pillow. He thrust harder, his breath quickening, his eyes tightening. She felt him surge inside her, her body answering his with powerful waves of pleasure.
With an agonized cry, he called out, "Donna!"
She answered, his name on her lips.
"Donna!" he groaned again. "Donna!"
"Donna?"
"Donna?"
Donnatella Moss Bartlet blinked once, then twice, and breathlessly pulled herself from the delicious fantasy that had removed her from reality for a few pleasant moments. She looked up, expecting to see her chief of staff, but, to her chagrin, none other than Zoey Bartlet stood in front of her desk, a curious smile curving her lips.
Oh God. Even though she knew her step-daughter had no concept of the sensuous thoughts that had heated her brain, Donna flushed. There she was, envisioning herself making passionate love to this girl's father, something Donna was certain Zoey would not care to know.
Clearing her mind as best she could of the visions, and trying to calm her body's reaction to them, Donna smiled up at the younger woman. "Hi." She hoped that sounded believably casual.
"What's up?" Zoey returned, her auburn hair bouncing with the energy of youth.
She pondered that question. Truth be told, nothing was up – except perhaps her dream-world Jed, and he sure wasn't doing her much good. Her afternoon sucked. Instead of spending a romantic first anniversary with her husband, who apparently had yet to catch on, there she was sitting alone at her desk, forced to fall back on erotic fantasies of the man she should have been experiencing the real thing with.
Of course, Zoey didn't want to – or need to – hear that, so Donna just shrugged. "Not much."
"You got time to talk?"
A warmth flowed through her at the evidence of the bond they had established over the past year. Smiling fondly, she nodded. "Sure."
"I hear congratulations are in order." Zoey said right off the bat, grinning her father's grin.
Well, it certainly wasn't a secret anymore, not after she had blurted it out in front of the senior staff and the Canadian Prime Minister. For an answer, Donna smirked and raised her eyebrows.
"Heck of a way to break the news." All the Bartlets were gifted with understatement.
"Yeah, I guess it was."
"I'm sure Dad's pumped, though."
Pumped? Well –
She'd had such limited time with Jed after her abrupt announcement that she really couldn't make a true assessment of his feelings. He had said, "Okay, " told her he loved her, and smiled. That didn't really constitute pumped.
But she smiled for Zoey and nodded. "Yeah."
The youngest Bartlet daughter didn't seem to notice her hesitation. "Yeah. Listen, I have a favor to ask. Can, uh, can we go up to the residence? This is kinda – personal."
Personal? Donna had been in only a few truly personal conversations with her step-daughter, one of which had revealed disturbing secrets of Jed's volatile relationship with his father. She wasn't sure she was ready for any equally troubling revelations just yet. Still, she would rather know than not.
They walked through the East Wing side-by-side, two sets of secret service agents following far enough behind to afford them at least a semblance of privacy.
"So, what's going on?" Donna asked, shooting for some mid-range tone between concerned and casual.
"Boys," Zoey murmured shyly.
"Boys?" Donna grinned in relief. This maybe she could handle. "Or one boy?"
Zoey's eyes darted to the side as if she were afraid her father might be lurking in the wings. "One boy," she admitted, coloring.
"Charlie?" That wasn't too hard to guess. They headed up the stairs.
She nodded. "He wants to – get together again, says he's the man for me."
Personally, Donna had always thought the two fit well together, but she hesitated to give Zoey advice that was too pointed. "What do you say?"
They had reached the residence floor and walked toward the grand window at the end of the hall.
"He's sweet and cute, and he loves me."
"Do you love him?"
Instead of answering, Zoey asked her a question. "How did you know – about Dad, I mean? How did you know you loved him?"
She choked a bit, caught herself, unable to dissolve the vision of Zoey having this conversation with the one who had rightfully earned it – Abigail Bartlet. But Abbey wasn't there – and Zoey had asked her a question, one that she could answer.
She thought back to that moment when the revelation had struck, when the concept of love – of loving him – had sunk in. It was in the throes of making love – she wouldn't add that detail – and she had been so stunned that he had stopped and looked down at her, concern in those adorable blue eyes.
"I knew I loved your father when I found myself unable to think of anything or anyone else. I would try to work – to finish a report – and all I saw were his eyes, all I heard was his voice, all I felt was – " She blushed. "Well, you get the idea. And there was an ache at the center of my chest when I couldn't see him – or be with him. It sounds pretty cliché, but I really did yearn just to be in the same room." She paused, wondering if she sounded like an idiot. "Is that goofy?"
Zoey shook her head, smiling. "No. Not goofy at all."
"I want to tell him everything. I want him to be the first person I see in the morning and the last person I see at night."
Maybe the touch of melancholy in her eyes was too easily seen, because Zoey laid a hand on her arm and said, "Doesn't always work that way, does it?"
"No," Donna admitted. "But we try."
"He's been pretty busy lately."
"Yeah."
"So, today's totally sucked, huh?"
"Like you said, he's been busy." Wasn't this supposed to be Zoey confiding in her, not the other way around?
"Yeah." Zoey gave her an impulsive hug, then pulled back before it could get too emotional. "He loves you very much, Donna. You and J.T."
"I know." And she did, even past the current disappointment in him. A sudden urge to confide in her step-daughter pushed at her, overcame her. "Zoey, I'm not sure if you know that, well, that J.T. was – that your father and I were – "
The younger woman smiled, no judgment in her tone. "Dad told me about – your relationship, even before you married."
Donna tried not to show her surprise.
"I also know he proposed before either of you knew you were pregnant."
"He did," she confirmed.
"He also told me that you almost left him."
Donna flinched, bracing for a child's angry protection of her father. "Not because I wanted to," she rushed in assurance. "It was because – "
"He told me that, too. Did you think he would really let you go? He's pretty possessive with people he loves."
"Yeah." After a beat, Donna asked her question again. "Zoey, do you love Charlie?"
"Yeah," she admitted quietly.
They paused at the bedroom door, and Donna placed her hand on her step-daughter's shoulder. "Charlie is a good man. Good men are hard to find." A rueful shadow touched her eyes. "I know. I almost let a very good man go, but thank God he was too stubborn to let me make the biggest mistake of my life."
Zoey smiled softly.
"Let's go inside," Donna suggested, wrapping her hand around the doorknob.
But Zoey suddenly stepped back. "Oh, that's okay. I'm fine now. Thanks for the talk."
"But – " A little off balance by the unexpected shift, Donna hesitated. Maybe she had been too frank, had shared more than Zoey wanted to know. "But don't you want to see J.T.?" That usually was a given for the doting big sister.
"Oh," Zoey said, "Josh and Toby have him."
"Josh and Toby?" Oh God.
"I think they are using him to pick up girls at Union Station."
"What?" Sounded possible.
"I'm kidding. They just wanted to give you and – " She stopped suddenly and cleared her throat. "To give us a chance to talk. But maybe you'll feel better to know that C.J. and Margaret are with them. He's not wanting for attention."
She had no doubt of that, but was disappointed at the news that not only would she miss the company of her husband – on their anniversary, no less – but she wouldn't even have their son for companionship. "Well – "
"Okay," Zoey shot back, turning before Donna even finished. "See you later." Why did she have the uneasy feeling her step-daughter had just blown her off?
Sighing, Donna turned back toward the door and stared at it for a moment, not sure she really wanted to go in. This was, after all, her anniversary, an evening she should be sharing with her husband. But duty had called again, and despite his profuse apologies, he had vanished off to the Sit Room with Leo and Admiral Fitzwallace, telling her not to wait up for him.
Allowing a stroke of pity to touch her, she slid her hand over the doorknob and slowly turned it.
Damn.
The door swung open and the first thing she registered was music playing – "Moon River," if she wasn't mistaken. The second thing was that a table had been set, resplendent with White House china and crystal, ivory candles casting a soft glow over the scene. Except for more candles by the bed, the rest of the room lay in darkness. As she entered, she smelled the sweet scent of roses and noticed that petals had been scattered across the floor and over the bed, where the covers had been folded back invitingly.
A soft rustle from behind spun her around.
"Jed?" she called tentatively, even though she knew he wasn't supposed to be there.
"Good evening," a warm, rich voice answered.
She peered into the darkness, trying to adjust her eyes.
He stood in the corner near the fireplace, and in the low light, she couldn't quite make him out clearly. But the voice was unmistakable.
"Andy Williams?" she asked. "Isn't that a little geeky?"
"You like geeky." Not a question.
"I do." Also not a question.
"What are you doing here?" That was a question, a most logical one.
"You were expecting Tom Cruise?" he wondered, humor clear in his tone. He still had not moved from the shadows.
She wanted to tell him that Tom Cruise paled in comparison to her husband, wanted to run into his arms just for being there, but she couldn't – and didn't want to – shake the anger, still hurt that he hadn't remembered. Until now, apparently. Someone had told him, obviously, and now he was attempting to make amends. Well, she'd let him – later, maybe.
"I thought you had a meeting. I had planned a nice evening alone. Just me and a DVD of Top Gun."
"Yeah?"
"Sure," she returned, as casually as possible. "Isn't Leo waiting for you somewhere?" That was a little sharp, but she didn't try to soften it.
"No."
"Well, he'll be along later then." She knew also that the possibility was all too real. "He always seems to know – "
Her words cut off as he stepped into the light. Oh my. The man did look good in a tuxedo, she allowed, letting her eyes scan down his body, over the crisp lapels, the perfect tie, the neat cummerbund, the pressed trousers. Yes, very good.
"I don't think so," he said. "I'm booked for the evening. I have an engagement with my wife." She caught her breath at the heat of his gaze.
"How about you engage with me instead?" she teased, throwing back just as much heat, despite her intentions to give him a little punishment.
He shrugged. "She might not like that. She's pretty jealous."
"She should be," Donna returned, moving around the table so that nothing separated them.
She had not planned on stepping into his embrace, had not intended to let him kiss her, but that's what happened, anyway. It was tender, soft, full of love, and maybe apology.
When he pulled back, he left his hand cupping her cheek. "I know we haven't had much time lately – "
He extended his other hand, and she could make out a dark, velvet case resting in his palm. As she reached out for it, their fingers touched, and she almost jumped at the desire that sparked between them.
"Happy Anniversary," he said.
Well, better late than never – maybe. But he looked so sweet, so loving, that she had little difficulty pressing down the lingering disappointment. For a moment, she stared at the case.
"Open it," he prompted, allowing himself a caress across the back of her hand.
"You remembered," she breathed, on the verge of forgiveness now.
Feigned shock crossed his face, and he placed a hand over his heart. "I am hurt, my dear, that you would even consider that I wouldn't."
"Shame on me," she agreed graciously.
He gestured to the box again. "Open it," he reminded.
Smiling, she lifted the lid of the case and gasped. The flickering candlelight caught a sparkle of gold and sapphire nestled in the soft lining. Her eyes widened.
Nice save, Mister President, she conceded. Very nice save.
"It's gorgeous," she declared, envisioning the frantic hustle to find a gift after he had somehow discovered his faux pas.
Not letting him completely off the hook – although the bracelet had gone a long way in redeeming him – she asked, "Was it Leo or Margaret?"
"Was what Leo or Margaret?"
"Who reminded you?"
"Reminded me of what?"
"It's all right," she allowed, feeling rather magnanimous. "I know you've been busy."
But the earlier feigned hurt in his face slid into genuine disappointment. "Donna," he asked, "did you really think I had forgotten?"
He didn't need to protest. She had absolved him, after all. Still, she assured him, "I'm serious. It's really okay – "
"You think I didn't – "
"Well – "
Suddenly, she realized why he was so hurt by her accusation. He had forgotten. He had forgotten. And she had pointed it out, had questioned his memory. Had brought home the possibility that he forgot because of the specter that had haunted him for a decade every single time his memory failed him. Was this a signal? Was this the beginning?
Damn it.
Paling, she berated herself for her own insensitivity, tried to backpedal. "I didn't mean – you really have been busy – "
But instead of anger, instead of hurt, she received only a soft smile. "Baby," he assured her, eyes tender, "I could never be so busy that I forgot the day that made me whole again."
Okay. Throw back the sheets; she was his. Even if that was a line, it was a damn good line.
"Jed – "
"What's Zoey up to?" he asked abruptly.
"What?" Zoey? Oh yeah. "She said wanted to talk about – "
His headshake finally slapped the comprehension into her. Zoey. A private talk. About boys. No, not about boys. About them. About Jed and her.
"She set me up, huh?" Donna realized. His smile answered her question "She was your accomplice. This engagement was a conspiracy."
And a very nice conspiracy it was, too. She could forgive him for forgetting. And she showed him by kissing him, hard. He reacted with equal fervor. It didn't matter if he had forgotten. She would make sure this night was so memorable he would never forget it.
He eased a hand around her waist, pulled her closer and drew her mouth to his again. The passion and love blended to create a deep longing within her. Desire surged at the pit of her belly as his lips trailed down her throat to press hot against those swelling breasts.
"We're missing our anniversary dinner," she reminded, not very convincingly.
"I'd rather start with dessert," he murmured against her skin.
Sounded like a good idea. Plus she didn't have the will – or the inclination – to protest. Instead, she pushed her hips against his, sighing to feel his arousal pulse between their bodies.
She held him close, and all those emotions she described to Zoey rushed back: the yearning, the ache, the heat. They pushed so hard against her heart that she almost couldn't breathe. With one hand, she pulled the jacket off him, with the other she opened his shirt and jerked off the cummerbund. Her fingers tore through his thick hair, her lips left marks on his shoulder, her leg wrapped around him possessively. They stumbled to the bed, falling on the covers.
She crawled on top of him, straddling his hips, groaning at the shot of pleasure as he surged against her. Pushing his shirt out of the way, she leaned down to suck on his nipples, her hair brushing over his chest. He fumbled with the top buttons of her dress, tugging them apart and letting her full breasts rest in his palms. She felt her milk let down with the sensation, but didn't try to stop it.
Her fingers skimmed his torso, settling on the generous bulk that strained against his trousers. His eyes closed as she rubbed along the thick length, his jaw clenched as she squeezed firmly. Urging him to lift his hips, she dragged his pants down, enjoying how he filled out the new boxer-briefs. She had mentioned to him that she preferred them over his plain boxers, and he had restocked his wardrobe to oblige her.
But tonight she didn't have the patience to admire them too long, and soon they had joined the trousers. She grunted in satisfaction when his freed erection fell heavily into her grasp and smiled at his groaned protest when she released him. But the protest didn't last long. Standing before him, she reached back and unzipped her dress, letting it slide from her body to reveal the lace black and red bra and garter belt she had purchased for the occasion.
"Oh, Donna," he croaked, running his fingers across her thigh. "My god, you are beautiful."
"Happy Anniversary," she said.
With a groan, he pulled her back to him, suckled at her breast, and tugged her panties down, brushing over her most sensitive area. Turning her onto her right side so that she faced away from him, he urged her left leg up. Shivering with anticipation over what was coming, she placed her hand over his and guided him to his familiar home.
"J-e-e-d," she moaned at the first stretch of his entry. All of her thoughts focused on that one spot where he burned deeper and deeper inside her.
She closed her eyes and envisioned what their coupling looked like, reaching her left arm back to clutch at his shoulder. His right arm lay beneath her, bent at the elbow so he could hold her tighter against his body.
With his left arm, he braced her leg and began his slow thrusts in and out, deep, then shallow. It took only few moments for their bodies to grow slick with their arousals. She moaned as the thrusts increased in speed and power.
"You are so beautiful," he gasped at her ear. "Beautiful."
She tried to answer, but managed only a moan as he twisted his hips. The tightness grew, strangled any other sensation except the one of intense and almost unbearable pleasure. Donna arched back, reveling in the pure physical contact, his flesh meeting her flesh, his sweat mingling with her sweat. His breath caught, and she knew from experience that he was close. She slid her left hand down to touch where they joined, to let her fingers run over him when he withdrew. The move drew an agonized moan from him, and he pumped hard, almost desperately, so hard that he drove the breath from her body, and she couldn't keep the gasp from escaping.
"Oh, hell," he bit out suddenly, body stopping.
"What?" She tried to twist, to search his face for distress, but he held her, pushed back in more gently.
"I'm sorry – the baby. I'm being too rough."
Sometimes he was the most marvelous man. "No," she promised. "Please don't stop. You feel so good." God, did he feel good.
That was enough. His fingers left prints on her alabaster skin. His chest molded to her back. His hips bucked against her buttocks. "Donna," he warned, voice almost in pain. "I can't – "
"Don't," she urged. "I want to feel you come inside me. I want to feel it so much."
His body trembled as he obeyed, hard bursts punching deep within her, over and over, spreading the rich seed until it overflowed between them as her own muscles exploded around him, clenching and unclenching wildly through the last explosions of ecstasy.
She came back to awareness still spooned in his embrace, and grinned tiredly when she realized she still held him inside her. For several minutes, they simply lay together, breath calming, skin cooling. Finally, he stirred slightly and brushed his lips against her hair.
"How far?" he murmured, fingers splayed protectively over her belly.
It took some effort to stir from her haze of satisfaction. "Hmm?"
"How far along are you?"
"Oh. Um, fourteen weeks."
She felt his breathing change, his muscles tense, and she looked back into blue eyes that had suddenly cooled. "Fourteen weeks?" His voice almost cracked.
Margaret's message flew back to her. Tell him soon. Damn it.
He moved his arm from under her and withdrew, turning her in his embrace. "You are three and a half months pregnant and you haven't told me yet?"
But she wasn't sure how to answer, wasn't at all positive she should share that she knew he really hadn't planned on another baby, didn't want to strain the renewed bond. Too late, now, though.
Drawing a stabilizing breath, she confessed. "I didn't think you – I know that you don't – I know what you've been trying to tell me about – about having more children."
He frowned. "What I've been trying to tell you?"
"I know you think I would be burdened if you – if you – "
"Donna – "
"But I want more than anything to have your children – "
His mouth on hers stopped the babbling. When he finally pulled back, he shook his head. "What on earth are you talking about? Is that why you didn't – "
Donna lowered her eyes as comprehension drained the blood from his face.
"My God," he groaned, "you thought I didn't want – I didn't want another child?"
She stared at him, having no idea how to respond. Of course she thought he didn't want another child. Was he saying that he did?
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. "Did you think I wouldn't be ecstatic about another baby?"
Well –
"Donna, you and J.T. have given me a new lease on life. Can't you see that?"
Joy shot through her, but she couldn't keep the frown from marring that emotion. "But, you said – you said you didn't think I should have more children." There, it was out. He couldn't pretend it hadn't happened.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Two weeks ago. You tried to tell me, but Leo came and – I heard, though. I knew what you meant, but by that time, I was already – "
He sat abruptly, eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed tight. After a moment, he looked back at her. "That's what you thought I was going to say? You thought I was saying that I didn't want – " A sad, tight smile curved his lips. "I thought you knew me better than that, Donna."
Yeah, well, so had she.
"You didn't – you didn't mean – "
"Of course not. Oh Lord, of course not." He pulled her to him, cradled her body against his, not in lust, not in passion, but in love, in tenderness. "Donna, I love you and J.T. more than anything else in this world. I told you when we brought him home from the hospital that I liked the feeling. Remember?"
She bit back the tears the threatened and collapsed into his offered embrace. When they pulled apart, he stretched over her to the nightstand and picked up the jewelry case.
"Look at it," he prompted, offering it again.
He was proud of the gift, she could tell, and she wanted to show him how much it meant to her. Keeping her eyes on him, she lifted the bracelet, a bit startled at the weight of it. It was obvious a very fine piece, and probably quite expensive.
"It's beautiful," she told him again.
But he shook his head impatiently and urged, "Look at it."
Holding it up to the candlelight, she let her gaze scan it a little more thoroughly and for the first time noticed two charms hanging from the loop. One was engraved with the name John Thomas and his birth date. Very sweet. She could not see anything written on the other one.
Wait, her brain commanded. The other one? Two charms?
Stunned, she stared at him, mouth dropping. "When did you do this?" she asked.
He shrugged. "While I was in New York for the governor's fundraiser. I took a little side trip to Harry Winston. Thought there might be something there that you would like. The blue of the sapphire suits you."
New York? "That was three weeks ago," she remembered.
"It took their designer a while to create it, so I sent Charlie back up to get it last week. You know how anal they are in the mailroom about packages."
"Designer?"
"Yeah."
"You had this made – for me?"
"Well, it sure wasn't for Leo." Those eyes sparkled.
Realization dawned. "You – you knew?"
He shrugged and smiled apologetically, placing a hand over her abdomen. "Donna, did you think I would not notice the changes in your body? I know every curve, each beautiful inch." His hand traced over her skin. "The glow of your cheeks, the swell of your belly, the fullness of your breasts. I would have to be blind not to see."
She stared at him, still not totally comprehending. "You knew."
"Yes," he answered simply.
"About the baby?"
"Yes."
"And our anniversary?"
He smiled, stroking her shoulder. "Yes."
"You already had all of this planned?"
"Yes."
"But you didn't – why didn't you say anything?"
A slight shrug lifted his shoulders. "You seemed to want to tell me yourself. I didn't want to ruin the surprise."
For a moment she couldn't decide whether to be furious with him or with herself. She chose the latter.
"I'm a fool," she decided.
He dipped to nibble at her chin. "No. I am, for not seeing that you thought – " He flinched a little and she felt the guilt wash over her. "How could you think – " But then he shook his head. "It doesn't matter now." His lips slid to her throat, sucked gently.
Her head leaned back, inviting his caresses when something occurred to her, something that had not yet been resolved.
"What was it then?" she whispered, barely able to form the words.
He didn't bother lifting his head. "What was what?"
He had reached that spot below her ear, that spot that destroyed her willpower almost every time. She fought to finish her thought. "Uh, what was it – God that feels good – what was it that you were trying to – I can't think when you do that."
"Don't need to think," he murmured, adding his hands to combat her.
With a surge of strength, she managed to break away from his spell. Breath coming hard, she said, "What was it you were trying to tell me when you said you didn't think I should do something?"
That stopped him cold, pulled him away from her. Uncharacteristically, he blushed and threaded fingers through his hair. "Nothing," he attempted with absolutely no success.
"Liar."
He knew it, too. "It – uh – it doesn't matter."
"It certainly does."
"Really," he insisted, making an attempt to move back and nuzzle her throat. Dirty pool. "It was just a thought."
"What thought?" she managed as the chill bumps scattered across her skin again.
"I don't think that now – "
"Jed – "
Apparently accepting that she was determined, he winced, withdrew, and Donna found herself bracing for whatever he was about to tell her. "I just thought that if I – if I died while J.T. – " He stopped and amended his words, " – while the children were young – "
She couldn't stop the flinch at the thought. "Jed – "
But he touched a finger to her lips. "I was going to say that I don't think you should discount – " Another sigh stopped him. He re-grouped. "That there is someone who – I believe – would be – uh – "
Despite her itching curiosity, she couldn't suppress a smirk at his uncharacteristic ineloquence.
"If something happened, Donna, I know that – he would – "
Oh for Pete's sake. "Would what?"
"Take care of you."
"Who?"
He dropped his gaze. "Josh."
Josh.
Josh?
"What?" She could have tried guessing for months and never happened upon that particular revelation. Josh? He was telling he that Josh – Oh my God, she realized, he was giving Josh and her his blessing.
Sitting, he took both of her hands in his. "It's practical, Donna. He – he loves you. I've seen it since you came to work for us."
"Josh?"
"I know he would be kind, and he would take care of you and J.T." He smiled sheepishly and placed his hand on her belly again. "And Moon Unit."
Josh?
Oh dear God, she thought. Dear God. This was what he –
Irritation warred with relief. An incredulous frown burrowed between her brows. She loved Josh, yes, but not in that way. And who the hell was he to decide –
"Josiah Bartlet," she declared, "you are a fool."
"What?"
"You," she repeated, "are a fool."
Instead of taking offense, though, he arched a brow. "I thought we had already established that. I believe I am a self-admitted fool, in fact."
"You have just conceived two children in a year and you think it's time to pick out my next husband?"
His confidence faltered visibly. "It seemed like a good idea at the – "
"What if I don't want Josh?"
He frowned, his plan disintegrating in the face of her own desires. "But – "
"What if I want Toby?"
"Toby!" Now the tone grew affronted. Served him right.
She pushed her advantage. "Or Will? Or what about Haffley?"
He stood, unconcerned with his state of undress, and placed his hands on his hips. "Will? Haffley? My God, Donna, are you – " But the grin she couldn't keep from slipping across her lips halted his burgeoning tirade, and she saw the chagrin color his strong features.
"I repeat, 'fool'," she said quietly.
"Touche," he conceded, then took her hands again, squeezed them firmly. "Donna, I was just trying – I was trying to find someone to make you happy."
She stood, too, letting her fingers disengage from his and crawl up his chest. "I've found him, already," she cooed, leaning in to flick her tongue across his lips.
"Not Josh?" he asked, part in mischief, part in all seriousness.
"Not Josh," she assured him, then grinned wickedly. "Unless you're suggesting a ménage 'a' trois."
Surprise flashed across his face before he could suppress it, but he recovered gamely. "In that case, I'll definitely have to find someone else. Margaret, maybe?"
"Margaret!" It was out before she knew it. Damn him. "Okay," she admitted. "I surrender."
"Seriously – "
"No. Only you, Jed Bartlet. I intend on keeping you around for a very long time. How much room is there on that bracelet for charms, anyway?"
He raised a brow.
"Just in case." Her own brow bounced once.
He kissed her. "Let's find out."
"Okay. No more talking for a while."
"But – "
"Shut up," she ordered as she let her tongue push into his mouth.
He grunted something unintelligible, and she pulled back. "What?"
"I said," he repeated more clearly, "I'm the President. You can't talk to me like that."
"How about if I talk to you like this: Mister President, I love you and I want to make love to you and I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel you hard and hot between my legs."
She smiled as his body acquiesced immediately.
"Can I talk to you like that?"
Voice hoarse and strained, he assured her, "Not a problem."
He took her hand and guided her back to the bed. Although it was tempting to lose herself in his heat, she had one more thing to say. "Jed?"
Busy fulfilling her request, he answered absently, "Hmm?"
"You think it will be a girl this time?" Her own voice thickened as he nudged at her entrance once more, teasing her by holding back.
A grunt preceded his answer. "I learned my lesson with J.T. No more predictions."
"But if it is – "
"Ten fingers, ten toes," he insisted, just before his mouth came back down on hers.
She had been ready to offer him the name again, prepared to christen their daughter after someone who should logically be a barrier between them, but whose memory had actually drawn them closer
"I love you," she whispered, opening to him again.
"I love you, Donna," he answered, easing in, and the tremulous emotion in his voice drew tears to her eyes. "I love you so very much, and I love J.T." He rubbed her belly gently. "And I love Moon Unit – or Theodore – or Isis – "
"Or Abigail."
He hesitated and swallowed, his eyes watering, too. "Or Abigail," he echoed, touching her face.
After a moment, he cleared his throat, braced his arms on either side of her. "Now, you had a request of the President, I believe." The hard pulse inside wasn't necessary to remind her.
"Oh, yes," she agreed. "Yes, indeed."
They may not fill up the charm bracelet. They may not even add more charms, but at that moment she knew she would never again doubt his love for the ones already on it – or for her.
The future was – well, the future. But the present – right then, the present was enough.