"Oh, my God! Mom!" Zoey screamed, racing to her mother's side.
Oliver stood a few feet away, almost motionless. He stared at the First Lady in utter astonishment. He should have known. And now they were too late.
"Mom! Mom, wake up! Oliver, get the agents. Now!"
After a delayed reaction, Oliver ran to the door and frantically informed the Secret Service agents standing outside of the situation inside. All ofthem instantly went into panic mode, talking into the microphones on their wrists, pulling out their cell phones, and a few of them bolting into the hotel room hurriedly. Within moments, he heard the sound of sirens, ambluances rushing down the streets. Oliver walked back into the room and watched Zoey sit beside her unconscious mother, crying copiously. He moved to stand beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Zoey."
She looked up at him, her lips trembling and her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm calling your father," Oliver stated, quietly.
"Oliver, no."
He nodded.
"He's still her husband. He has a right to know."
"Look at her! She's helpless. You can't go against her wishes like that!" Zoey cried.
"You didn't see her tonight. You didn't hear what she said. She needs him. And he's going to find out sooner or later."
"Oliver, don't."
He took his cell phone out of his pocket.
"Give me a number where I can reach him."
"No."
"Zoey, do you see her? She NEEDS him!"
Zoey glanced down at her mother, distraught, then looked back up at her boyfriend.
"Give me the phone. I'll dial."
He handed the phone to her.
"Thank you."
She pushed a few buttons, then handed it back to him.
"It's 6am in Washington. He should be in the office. Tell Debbie who you are and she'll put you through"
He put the phone to his ear and waited.
"Hello. Yes. Oliver Prescott for President Bartlet please."
Washington, D.C.
"Who?" Debbie Fiderer questioned.
"Oliver Prescott. Sir Anthony Prescott's son. I've got Zoey Bartlet sitting right next to me if you don't…"
"Oh, I believe you. I just don't know what it is you want with the President."
"Please, this is an emergency. It's Debbie, isn't it?" Oliver asked.
"Yes…"
"Please, Debbie. Do it for Zoey. Do it for the First Lady."
Debbie hesitated, but ultimately relented.
"He's got a breakfast meeting in fifteen minutes. Don't be long."
"Thank you!"
Debbie stood from her desk and walked through the open door of the Oval Office.
"Mr. President?"
Jed looked up, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah."
"Phone call for you."
"Who is it?"
"It's…Oliver Prescott, sir," Debbie said.
"Who?"
"Sir Anthony's son."
Jed scowled.
"Oh, him. What the hell does he want?"
"I don't know, sir, but he says it's urgent. And I believe him."
"All right. I'll take it."
Debbie nodded.
"Line three, sir."
"Thank you."
"Thank you, sir," Debbie replied, backing out of the room.
Jed took his glasses off and put them into his shirt pocket before answering the phone.
"Oliver."
"Good evening, Mr. President," Oliver said, nervously.
"It's morning here, Oliver."
"Right, I apologize."
"What do you need?" Jed asked.
"Sir, I have Zoey here with me. She would have called you herself but she's..barely coherent."
"What do you mean? What's going on!"
"I'm afraid they're…taking the First Lady to the hospital, sir," Oliver explained.
Immediately, Jed imagined the worst case scenario. His stomach dropped, his heart stopped, and his eyes widened.
"What happened?"
"She had kind of a rough night. It looks like she consumed four bottles of Cabernet and half a bottle of whiskey."
"Oh, my God," Jed whispered, in shock.
"Zoey and I found her a few moments ago. The ambulance just arrived to take her to the hospital."
"Okay. I'm coming."
"Sir?"
"I'm coming to London. I'll be there this afternoon. Sometime mid-morning in your time."
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you for calling, Oliver. You don't know how much I appreciate it. Tell Zoey I'm on my way."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Jed hung up the phone, stood up and walked briskly to his secretary's desk.
"Debbie, I need Leo. We're going to London."
"For real this time?" Debbie asked.
"That's right. For real this time."
Kent, England
Sir Anthony Prescott and his daughter, Daphne Prescott-Windemere were sprawled out on lawn chairs in the spacious backyard of their Kent mansion. For both of them, relaxing in this quiet, peaceful atmosphere was more than welcome. It was rare that either of them got a chance to slow down for awhile and catch up.
"When is Oliver coming back?" Daphne asked.
"I don't know. He said he'd call," Tony replied.
"How come you didn't go with them? Abbey's your…girlfriend, after all. Is that what you're calling her? Your girlfriend?"
Tony chose to tactfully ignore her comments.
"Abbey said she needed to be alone. It's her anniversary today."
"If she wants to be alone, why did Oliver and Zoey go back to see her?"
"Zoey was worried."
"You're not worried?" Daphne said.
"Why would I be worried? Abbey's perfectly capable of taking care of herself."
"Well, why was Zoey worried then?"
"I don't know," Tony answered, quietly.
"You know, we haven't properly discussed this situation yet."
"What situation would that be, Daph?"
"The Abbey situation."
"I wasn't aware it was a…situation. Do you have concerns?" Tony asked, mockingly.
"Dad, I'm serious."
"As am I. Please express your concerns, Mrs. Windemere."
"Well, needless to say, I'm not completely comfortable with it."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, that's so!" Daphne exclaimed.
"What aren't you comfortable with, love?"
"Among other things, I'd say the part where you're dating the First Lady of the United States is a rather prominent matter!"
"I see."
"She's married, Dad. She's married to a very wealthy politician, you could say. Possibly the most well-known man in the world. Which makes her the most well-known woman in the world."
"They're separated," Tony said.
"Regardless! Why are you persuing her, Dad? Is it publicity?"
"No, Daphne!"
"Don't tell me you actually like her," Daphne said with disgust.
"No, I don't like her."
"Good."
"I really like her. In fact, I like her so much that I think I…"
"Stop! Please. I don't want to hear it."
"You asked," Tony replied.
"I also find it a bit dodgy how you're dating Mrs. Bartlet and Oliver's gone after Zoey. I'd like a little inside information on what that's all about, thank you."
"Merely coincedence, darling."
"Oh, I highly doubt that."
"Just because you connived your way into marrying for fame and publicity doesn't mean Oliver and I are walking the same road, you know," Tony said.
"That was low, Dad."
"Well, I'm simply pointing out that…"
"I don't like it. I don't like you dating the First Lady and I don't like Oliver dating the First Daughter."
"That's very unfortunate, darling. I'm sorry to hear that."
"You mean you're going to let this continue!"
"I bloody well am, yes!"
"This is going to come back to haunt you, Dad. Mark my words. No good can come of this. No good whatsoever."
Washington, D.C.
The morning sunshine shone brightly through the curtains of the hotel room window, inadvertantly falling on the two bodies curled up under the covers of the queen size bed. The more intense the sunlight became, the more the bodies stirred, releasing themselves from the fatigue that had conquered them hours before. Just as they started to fully awaken, the shrill sound of the phone ringing pierced their ears and made them groan with displeasure.
"Excuse me. Sorry," Leo McGarry said gruffly, as he leaned over her to pick up the phone.
"What a way to wake up," Millicent Griffith remarked, sarcastically.
"What the hell do you want?" Leo said into the phone's receiver. "Debbie, is this really…yeah. Okay. Yeah, I understand. I serve at the disgruntled yet whimsical pleasure of what's his name in the Oval Office. Yeah. I'll be there as soon as I can. Uh huh. Goodbye."
Leo slammed the phone down and returned it to its place on the nightstand, then fell back onto the bed, letting out a deep sigh of exhasperation.
"You have to go, huh?" Millie asked, softly.
"Yeah. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. At least last night was completely interruption-free. We can be grateful for that."
Leo grinned.
"Yes, we can."
"So, what's going on at the office? Jed's staging a nutty and Debbie called you to intervene?"
"I don't know, most likely. She mentioned something about London. Probably something with the Prime Minister."
"Or something with Abbey," Millie said.
"Oh, yeah. Damnit."
"You know, this isn't going to just go away, Leo."
"What? Abbey?"
"Yeah!"
"I know. I'm just not sure how to handle it anymore. Everytime I think we've got it under control, she throws us another curve ball. It's the never-ending crisis."
"She's not doing it to hurt you, you know," Millie said.
"Yeah? Then who's she trying to hurt?"
"Well, maybe a few weeks ago she was trying to hurt you guys. But now…now, she's just trying to hurt herself."
"How do you figure?" Leo questioned.
"She knows what she did was wrong. Now she's stuck in a whole she can't climb out of. So she's hurting herself."
"Yeah. Well, I can't wait to get into the office and find out just what she's done now!"