Reflections are a peculiar thing. For instance, what one person sees in your reflection may not neccesarily correlate with your owns view of yourself. Abbey Bartlet stands before the mirror in the bathroom, studying her own reflection circumspectly. For the most part, she approves. She loves her hair- it was a nice length for her and the color seemed to suit her for the time being. She isn't certain she had used the right colors in her makeup, but in general, she is satisfied by it. And the dress. Ah, the dress. Perfectly fitting to the contours of her body and emphasizing a few of her best features, the stunning black dress garners her coveted approval instantly. And apparently not only her approval, but someone else's as well.

"Well. That's a dress if I've ever seen one."

Abbey's lips curve into a smile when she notices her husband appear in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Despite the inner delight she reveles in with comments like that, she remains nonchalant, slowing reapplying her lipstick.

"And, in fact, you've seen many," she comments, sardonically.

She loves the burning sensation she felt when his eyes are focused on her, and only her. The occasions upon which this had been the case were becoming fewer and fewer the busier he became.

"Ah, yes," Jed replied. "But a dress is not a dress unless you're wearing it, Sweet Knees."

Abbey has never been one to fall for banal flattery in general, but from her husband, she would accept it. What would be considered banal flattery from most men, normally was completely sincere from him.

"That was wonderfully corny of you," she said. "Well done."

He knows her game. They've been playing this sport for nearly forty years. He didn't neccesarily score at the end of each match, but as they say, it's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game.

"Thank you."

Jed approaches her from behind, still keeping enough distance between them to pique her interest. She purses her lips and averts her eyes from him. She is playing defense now. That's okay. He's got her stratagem pegged. He knows how to outwit her; he's done it many a time, successfully and un.

"Is there any chance we could skip this little shindig and have our own party here in the Residence?"

It's a longshot, sure, but it'll get him past the fifty-yard line and that's plenty for now.

"I don't think this dress can be thoroughly enjoyed by the American people if we stay here," Abbey answered.

Easy. He's got a tactic to outmanuever that one.

"Yeah, 'cause I can have it off you in under ten seconds, guaranteed."

She twists her body around to face it, looking him square in the eyes. He smirks at the serious expression on her lovely face.

"Which is why we most certainly will be attending this little shindig."

Jed advances on her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You sure about that?"

The closer he gets to her, the further back she steps, until finally he has pushed her into a corner, quite literally. He leans in, his lips on a mission to find hers, but is stopped by a warm, urgent hand against his chest.

"Tell you what," she whispers, low and seductive. "After the thing tonight, I'm yours."

He pulls away slightly, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

"Do I have your word on that?"

"If you can fit me into your busy schedule, Mr. President."

He grins.

"I'm sure we can pencil in time for a little barbecuing. In the meantime, I guess we should get to the Moulin Rouge. I mean…the party. The party."

She whacks him lightly on the shoulder.

"Was that a crack about my dress?"

"Of course not, dear. A mere slip of the tongue."

"A Freudian slip, I bet."

"Congratulations!" Nancy says.

"Thank you! Thank you so much," Ellie Bartlet replies, smiling radiantly.

Nancy turns to the President and First Lady.

"Sir, CJ and Oliver Babish would like to see you."

"Of course," Jed replies, standing up from his position in the chair.

Abbey, Ellie, and Vic watch as Nancy leads the President out of the room. Abbey leans over and subtly takes the champagne glass from Ellie's hand and places it on the table.

"Ellie, sweetheart, could I speak to you for a moment? Alone?"

Ellie looks at her fiance helplessly and shrugs

"Sure, Mom."

"We'll just be a few minutes, Vic," Abbey says.

Vic can only smile and nod, then take another gulp of champagne. Ellie follows Abbey down the hall and out onto the Truman Balcony.

"You're mad," Ellie assumes.

"I'm not mad, Ellie," Abbey replies, matter-of-factly. "I'm thrilled for you."

"Really? You are?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you think I'm making the right decision?" Ellie questions, uncertainly.

"What? Getting married?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're pregnant!" Abbey exclaims.

"Yeah."

Ellie looks down at her shoes.

"Ellie?"

"Sorry. I'm just….I don't know. I love Vic, I do. I just wonder if we've rushed into things a little."

"You should have thought of that before you…"

"Mom."

"Sorry," Abbey says.

"How do I know this isn't going to end in divorce? As much as I love Vic now, who's to say I won't in ten years? I mean, how do you know?"

"You just have to trust your intuition, I guess."

"How did you know with Dad?" Ellie asks.

Abbey laughs uneasily.

"It's going to sound stupid."

"Tell me."

"And it's not a very pleasant thought, but it's a pretty good indicator of this kind of thing. What I did was, I pictured your father dead."

"Mom!"

"Hey, hey, I'm not finished yet. I pictured your father dead, and then I tried to picture my life. And you know what I saw?" Abbey asks.

"What?"

"Nothing. It was like the screen inside my head had turned black. There was nothing there. I tried it a couple of times, thinking the first time was just a fluke. Each time, it went completely black. And that's how I knew that there would be no life for me without him."

"Wow," Ellie whispers, misty-eyed. "I guess it worked, huh? Forty years later…"

"Look where we are now."

Ellie nods.

"Should I try it?"

"It can't hurt!"

"Okay."

Abbey smiles as Ellie closes her eyes tightly, wincing when she imagines her fiance dead, and frowning afterward. Her eyes flutter open, and she looks to her mother with a sort of fearful confusion.

"What did you see?" Abbey inquires.

"It was…gray."

"Gray?"

"Yeah. I…I was there, and I could see myself, but…everything was gray. Well, like an old black and white film. It was like I was Bette Davis or Katharine Hepburn."

"That's a good start, Ellie," Abbey says, smiling affectionately.

"But it wasn't black."

"There's still time for that, honey. The black hole doesn't happen all at once."

"The black hole," Ellie repeats, pensively.

"Try it again in a few weeks. If it fades to black, then you're doing just fine. If it's Technicolor, you're in trouble."

"And what if it stays gray?"

"Then you'll have some decisions to make," Abbey answers.

"Thanks, Mom."

"Oh, you're welcome. Come here."

Abbey pulls her middle daughter into her arms and hugs her tightly. When they separate, she gently pushes Ellie's blonde tresses out of her face.

"You're going to make a beautiful bride, Eleanor."

"Mom," Ellie says, wiping a few tears off her cheeks.

"And a fantastic mother."

"Do I have your permission to be clichéd and maudlin for just a second?"

"If I can, you can."

Ellie smiles appreciatively.

"I learned from the best."

"Oh," Abbey mutters, wiping away a few tears of her own. "That was rather maudlin, dear."

Laughing, Ellie slings her arm through her mother and they begin the walk back into the building.

"By the way," Ellie says. "That's quite a dress you've got on."

"Oh, this old thing?" Abbey replies, mockingly.

"I'm surprised you were allowed out of the Residence in that thing."

"Well, your father did try everything in his power to make me agree to having our own little party in the Residence."

Ellie stops walking and stares at her mother with an amused shock, her jaw open slightly.

"I meant the staff, Mom."

"Oh," Abbey says, awkwardly. "Sorry."

"I recall Toby throwing a fit when you tried to attend the Secretary of State's sixtieth birthday party wearing that skimpy Versace gown last year."

"Well, I won that argument, didn't I?"

"Surprise, surprise," Ellie says.

"Besides, I haven't seen Toby all evening. I heard he was tied up in the Roosevelt Room with something."

They return to Vic, who is waiting rather impatiently. Ellie sits beside him, grabbing his hand and pulling it into her lap.

"Uh…Mrs. Bartlet, someone came in and said there was a call for you," Vic says.

"Really, how long ago?"

"Maybe a minute."

"Thanks."

Abbey walks over to one of the tables nearby and picks up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Abbey."

"Jed?" She asks, worried by the tone of his voice.

"It's Toby."

"Okay, that's a wrap. We're off the air, Mr. President."

Jed nods, then stands up quickly, trying to dodge CJ in the process. This is attempt is unsuccessful, however, and CJ catches up with him.

"Mr. President…"

"Go home, CJ. Get some sleep."

"Sir, I just wanted to…"

"Please, I'm begging you. Let's call it a night," Jed says.

"Yes, sir," CJ replies, with a quick nod.

"Thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

CJ remains standing where she is, watching the President exit the Oval Office onto the portico. Abbey is waiting for him on the bench outside the door, and stands the moment she sees him.

"Jed."

He stops walking and turns around.

"Hey."

"Are you all right?" She asks, placing a hand on his arm gently.

"Yeah."

"Jed…"

"Come on," he says, taking her hand in his. "Let's go."

As they walk along the portico, Abbey uses her best deductive reasoning to study his facial expressions and body language. After the long trek to the Residence, Jed and Abbey finally reach their bedroom.

"Well," she says, leaning against the door.

"I believe I was told you'd be all mine tonight," Jed replies.

"Jed, please."

He sighs and collapses onto the couch, exhausted. She moves to sit behind him.

"Talk to me," she pleads, desperately.

"What do you want me to say, Abbey?"

"You just went on national television and fired one of your closest friends, Jed."

"Employee," Jed corrects her.

"Friend."

He turns away from her now, evasive and equivocal. She takes his face in her hands and makes him look at her.

"Friend, Jed."

He nods, reluctantly.

"Okay."

"Jed, it's okay to feel badly about this. What Toby did was wrong, yes, and the anger you feel towards him has its merit. But he was also very close to you for eight years, it's natural for their to be a little sadness in there somewhere."

"Thanks, Stanley, I feel much better now."

"Why do you think he confessed?" Abbey questions.

"To save Leo's ass."

"And not CJ's?"

"No," Jed says. "Why?"

"No reason."

"I trusted him."

"I know, baby."

She runs her fingers through his hair soothingly and presses her lips to his cheek gently.

"When I think of the disgrace he brought to this administration…"

"What about the success he brought this administration?"

"I'm packaging all of that up and FedExing it to another time," Jed replies.

"Fair enough. Just as long as it doesn't get lost in the mail."

"Yeah. I know."

"We both know Toby well enough to understand that he didn't do it to hurt the administration," Abbey points out.

"Maybe not, but that's what happened."

Abbey squirms a bit, fidgeting with the straps of her dress.

"Okay, hold that thought, I gotta get out of this thing," she says, standing up.

"I'll help you," Jed offers, eagerly.

"Sit!"

"Yes, ma'am."

She moseys into the bathroom, while he remains seated all by his lonesome.

"Ellie and Vic still here?" Jed calls out to her.

"Yeah! They're going home tomorrow afternoon."

"Did you have any further discussion with the fruitfly?"

"Not much. I did talk to Ellie though," Abbey replies.

"And?"

"Mother-daughter confidentiality agreement."

"Oh, great."

"Remember what I said about fruitflies procreating?" Abbey questions.

"Vaguely."

"I sure called that one, didn't I?"

"Remarkable really," Jed says, glumly. "I can only hope the good genes Ellie inheritated from you can somehow dominate Fruity's."

"I'm going to have to discourage you calling him Fruity in front of him and Ellie."

"You don't think he'd take it as a compliment?"

"Would you?"

"Depends on the context."

"I'm not even gonna ask you to expand on that one," Abbey says.

She emerges from the bathroom wearing a long, silk bathrobe, and reclaims her seat beside him on the couch.

"CJ got Will to take over."

"What?"

"Communications Director."

"Oh. You okay with that?"

"It'll be nice to have Will back, but the circumstances…" Jed trails off.

"I know."

"You know what tonight proves?"

"What?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd have some wisdom to offer me on that one, Confucious."

"A metaphor for powerlessness?" She asks.

"Where have I heard that before?"

"A wise man once uttered that phrase to his wife at a state dinner, some seven years ago."

"He sounds incredibly clever."

"He is," she says, softly. "It's gonna be okay you know."

"I only have a few months left, Abbey."

"And you'll make the most of them."

He smiles at her, conveying all the despair, betrayal, anger, confusion and, somewhere, even hope that he feels.

"God willing."

Hearts are worn in these dark ages
You're not alone in this story's pages
Night has fallen amongst the living and the dying
And I try to hold it in, yeah I try to hold it in

Chorus
The world's on fire and
It's more than I can handle
I'll tap into the water
(I try to pull my ship)
I try to bring more
More than I can handle
(Bring it to the table)
Bring what I am able

I watch the heavens and I find a calling
Something I can do to change this moment
Stay close to me while the sky is falling
Don't wanna be left alone, don't wanna be alone

Chorus

Hearts break, hearts mend
Love still hurts
Visions clash, planes crash
Still there's talk of
Saving souls, still the cold
Is closing in on us

We part the veil on our killer sun
Stray from the straight line on this short run
The more we take, the less we become
A fortune of one that means less for some

"World on Fire," by Sarah MacLachlan

THE END