CJ Cregg stood at her podium in the press room, staring at the people who sat impatiently before her. They could tell something was amiss just by looking at the press secretary's wandering eyes and trembling hands. CJ glanced over at Carol, who was standing to the side. Carol nodded reassuringly, prompting CJ to return her attention to the press, with slightly more confidence now.
"Good morning, everyone."
She paused, trying to conjure up the perfect way to make the announcement that would undoubtedly monopolize the news cycle for weeks, and then some. When all subtle approaches seemed to fail in her mind, CJ decided to just plunge right into the deep end.
"At 1:21 AM, England time, First Lady Abigail Bartlet was discovered unconscious in her London hotel room by her youngest daughter and a friend. Her unconscious state was triggered by an overdose of alcohol, namely a mixture of red wine and whiskey. Her detail escorted her Charing Cross Hospital on Fulham Palace Road in London. Upon hearing this, the President scheduled an emergency trip to London. As this moment, President Bartlet is on Air Force One and will be landing shortly."
The second CJ paused to take a breath, each one of the reporters in the room shouted her name urgently. She sighed, and pointed to one in the front.
"CJ, is the First Lady still unconscious?"
"As far as I know, yes."
"Yesteday was the First Couple's thirty-eighth anniversary. Do you think that may have had something to do with Mrs. Bartlet's overdose?"
"I really couldn't say."
"Did Mrs. Bartlet spend the evening alone?"
"That I don't know. When she was found, she was alone."
"So Sir Anthony Prescott wasn't with her?"
"When I say alone, surprising though it may be, I mean alone," CJ answered.
"CJ, does the First Lady have a history of alcohol abuse?
"She does not."
"Will the President be doing any business in London?"
"That depends on timing and scheduling, as this trip was very sudden and last minute."
"When will he be returning?"
"A day or two, I expect. I'll let you know when I find out for sure. All right, that's it, everybody. I'll see you in a couple hours."
London, England
From inside the hospital's private waiting room, Zoey Bartlet and Oliver Prescott sensed the commotion and confusion outside the room. They opened the door and glanced out, just in a time to see their area of the hospital swarmed by Secret Service agents.
"I guess my dad's here," Zoey assumed. "I can't believe he came."
They finally caught glimpse of the President, though he was surrounded by men and women in black.
"Dad!"
Zoey ran into his arms.
"How is she?" Jed asked, anxiously.
"She's still in a co…"
"Don't say it."
"Don't say co…."
"Zoey!"
"Okay, okay. I didn't think you'd come," Zoey said.
"Why not?"
"Well, because…"
"Separation or no separation, that's still the woman I love in there!" Jed said, walking toward Abbey's room.
The door closed behind him when he walked in. Oliver stood beside Zoey and nudged her shoulder with his, grinning broadly.
"What."
"I told you he'd come. Did you hear that?"
Zoey's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Who's side on you on here, Brutus?"
"What do you mean?" Oliver questioned.
"Looks to me like you're trying to get my parents back together. What about your father?"
"What about him?"
"You tell me!" Zoey exclaimed. "You're not being loyal to the crown."
"I'm a sucker for happy endings."
"Even when it's your own father who gets screwed?"
"Not exactly the way I would put it, but yes."
"It's not just some ploy to win me over?"
"I've already won you over, sweetheart," Oliver replied, with a wink.
"Don't be so sure. I'm pretty hard-to-get, you know."
"Not so far."
"Yeah, but it ain't over yet!"
Millie sat on the bed in her hotel room, flipping through channels on the television aimslessly. Leo sat at the desk nearby, reading some papers.
"Leo."
"Hmm."
He didn't look up.
"Leo."
"What."
Still, his gaze remained loyal to what he was reading.
"Leo!"
Leo's head jerked up, his eyes burning into hers.
"What!"
"Call me crazy, but I tend to like it when people actually look at me when I speak to them," Millie retorted.
"Fine," Leo granted. "What is it?"
"Explain to me again why we're cooped up in this hotel, while the President is at the hospital."
"I told you, we'll go to the hospital later. The President wants some time alone with Abbey."
"To do WHAT? The woman is unconscious, for Christ's sake!"
"I don't know, Millie! He gives the orders, I just execute them. If he wants to be alone in a room with his comatose wife, who am I to deny him that right?" Leo said.
"How long's he going to be?"
"Depends."
"On what?" Millie asked.
"On whether or not he decides to talk to her. Once he gets started, I don't think there'll be an end in sight."
"Yeah, I think that's a pretty fair assumption. You know, given his track record."
"Mmm-hmm."
Leo returned his attention to the papers. She sat up abruptly, with a childlike enthusiasm.
"You know what I'd like to do?" Millie inquired.
"Sit there quietly without another word?"
"Hmm. Let me think….no."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Leo muttered to himself.
"Because you've actually met me?"
"That would do it."
"Damnit!" Millie exclaimed.
"What now?" Leo asked, uninterested.
"I forget what I wanted to do."
"That's awful," Leo deadpanned.
"That was your plan all along, wasn't it? Run me off the tracks and I'll forget where I was going in the first place?"
"Well, it tends to do the trick."
Millie rolled her eyes.
"Remind me again why I'm sleeping with you."
"Because I'm irresistable and you can't keep your hands off me."
"Don't flatter yourself, McGarry."
"Why not? No one else is going to," Leo answered.
"Small wonder that is."
It was true. She really was unconscious. It wasn't a bad dream or a rumor. There she was, right before his very eyes, lying motionless in a flimsy old hospital bed, tangled up in tubes and wires.
Jed took a deep breath, pulled a chair up beside her bed, and sat down. He gazed at her for a few moments, foolishly thinking that his stare could will her awake. It took an hou of wrestling with his conscience before he could actually speak to her. He knew his words would be falling on deaf ears and somehow, that made it easier.
"Wine and whiskey, huh? What's next? Sleeping pills? Razor blades? In looking for the easy way out, the short cut, you've landed yourself on the longest pathway home. You should have just called me. Hell, you should have come home. Wherever home is. It's not here in London, I'll tell you that. And it's not with what's-his-name either. Nobility Man."
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking her over.
"That was a dirty trick you played there, Abigail. You've been playing with fire for months now. Looks like you just got burned. Well. Maybe this was exactly what you needed. A good slap in the face to jolt you back to reality. Then again, maybe not. But I'll tell you this. Somehow, it's comforting to see that this separation, though it was your idea, hasn't been easy on you either. In fact, I think it's tearing you apart. No chance in hell you'd ever admit it, but I know you. Two signatures on a piece of paper won't keep me from knowing you better than anyone else ever could, Abbey. Yeah, I made the wrong decision in keeping the Shareef thing a secret from you. I screwed up. I've screwed up before, and I'll screw up again. I'm only human, despite what the American people may think."
Jed dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples before turning his attention back this completely oblivious, unaware wife.
"That was some revenge you plotted. I gotta hand it to you, it was wicked. Not to mention clever. What did you think it was going to do? Make you feel better? Yeah, you're lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Feel better? I didn't think so. But then, I suppose it wasn't a total loss. It got me here, after all. Like you didn't know I'd come running the minute I heard. You knew. Oh, what the hell am I saying? There's no way you'd have done this if you'd known. God forbid I see you during your time of weakness and vulnerability. God forbid I see your pillar of strength come crashing to the ground in one big crumbling heap. You're only human too, ya know. You have limits, you're flawed. You don't always have to be the tough one. If you were to come to me shaken and afraid, exposed and defenseless, you think I'd turn you away? Is that what thirty-eight years of 'for better or for worse' have shown you? You're not in this alone, Abbey. You never have been. It takes two to build a strong marriage, and it takes two to ruin it. If you were to come to me shaken and afraid, you think I'd turn you away? Is that what thirty-eight years of 'for better or for worse' have shown you? Am I really that bad a husband? Or does it make it easier on you now that you've got someone to blame? I don't know! I don't know what you're thinking anymore. Just when I think I've got you pegged, you hit me with something else. It's all just a game to you. A simple act of vengeance. "What am I supposed to do, Abbey? Wait until you've figured things out? Wait until you've come to your senses and decided to come home? Until you've realized you made a mistake, you weren't thinking, you were disillusioned and disoriented by what I'd done to you, by my betrayal. No doubt you'll blame it on that. And then what am I supposed to do? Welcome you back with open arms? You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? The sad thing is, it's true. It's all true."