NOTE: Many lines from the first scene belong to Sorkin and TBTB at NBC, taken from the season four episode, "Privateers."

Chapter Four

April, 2003 Washington, D.C.

"No, it's not that easy," The First Lady said, grinning devilishly. "But we're gonna do it anyway."

Amy Gardner shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Start lobbying."

"Yes," Amy answered, quickly.

"Thank you."

Abbey stood up and glided towards the door, only to be met by Will Bailey and CJ Cregg on her way out.

"Good morning, ma'am," Will greeted her.

"Good morning," Abbey replied, pleasantly. "A glacier melted in Alaska."

"Are you a little freaked out about that too, ma'am?"

"No."

"I didn't mean that I was…" Will said.

"Mrs. Bartlet," CJ said. "You know Lane's waiting out there, right?"

"Lurking in the shadows?" Abbey asked.

CJ smiled.

"More or less."

Abbey nodded and continued on out of Amy's new office. She wasn't in the least bit surprised when her youngest daughter, then fifteen years old, approached her.

"Mom."

"Lane," Abbey said, not slowing down for a moment.

Lane sprinted after her until she was able to walk in step beside her.

"What's up, Laney?"

"I have a question," Lane said.

"Ya don't say."

"It's about the thing tonight. The DAR thing."

"Yes, you have to go," Abbey said, firmly.

"No, I know. That's not it."

"What then?"

"Well…Zoey's bringing Jean-Paul."

Abbey cringed at the thought. Truthfully, Lane did too, but her sister's boyfriend was neccesary to assist her current argument, so she concealed her dislike for him.

"Yes…"

"And I think it's only fair that I should be able to bring a date too."

"No," Abbey replied, simply.

"Mom! You haven't even heard my argument yet!"

"I know your argument, Lane. Zoey's bringing a date, why can't you?"

"Well…yeah," Lane responded, scurrying behind her. "Why are we walking so fast?"

"Practice for the Boston Marathon. And just to set the record straight, Zoey can bring a date because Zoey is over eighteen, and sadly, I no longer control her. I do, however, hold the reins to your horse, dear. And I will steer it wherever I so desire."

"But that's not fair!"

"Tough beans, sugar," Abbey said.

"Okay, give me one reason why I can't bring a date."

"As the youngest child of the President of the United States, who just happens to be only fifteen, I hardly think it would be appropriate for you to bring a date to a reception thrown by the Daughters of the American Revolution."

"Dad would let me if I asked him," Lane retorted.

Abbey raised an eyebrow at her and laughed heartily.

"Keep dreaming, girl. Like he's going to provide a venue for some adolescent boy to corrupt his youngest daughter. Please."

"Come on, Mom. It's just one little party. It's not gonna be a big deal or anything, I swear," Lane insisted.

"The answer is no."

Lane frowned, her eyes locked on her mother as they walked.

"Aren't you afraid I'm just going to stop talking to you one day?" Lane questioned, wryly.

Abbey smirked.

"One can only hope."

December, 1987 Manchester, New Hampshire

It had been nearly a year since the Bartlet family had visited their farm in Manchester, New Hampshire. And what an eventful year it had been. Jed couldn't wait to settle in and spend the next week and a half experiencing full, unadultered relaxation, the kind that was unattainable in Washington.
Jed lounged on the couch in the living room, with his feet resting on the coffee table before him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so carefree.

"Jed, darling," Catherine called upon entering the room.

"Please, for the love of God, don't tell me something that's going to stress me out," Jed replied, with his eyes closed.

"Well…"

"Bunnies, fairies, or prime rib, Mom. Take your pick."

"What?" Catherine asked, thoroughly bewildered. "Were you just asking what I wanted for dinner, because I'm a little…"

"Mom." Jed opened his eyes and sat up. "What do you need?"

"The bathroom."

"You're a big girl now, Mother, I think you can do that on your own."

Catherine placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"The location of the bathroom, Josiah."

"Mom, you've been coming to this house for, like, five hundred years. You don't know where the bathroom is?"

"It's been a long time."

"Down the hall, third door on the left," Jed replied, monotonously.

"Thank you."

In Catherine's absence, Jed returned to his rest and relaxation ritual. Just moments later, however, she was replaced by three more Bartlet women. Jed heard their footsteps as they walked in and opened one eye, then the other.

"Daughters," Jed greeted them. "What can I do for you three lovely ladies?"

"Zoey won't shut up about Mom so we've leaving her with you," Elizabeth announced.

Jed swung his legs off the coffe table and sat up straight.

"I beg your pardon?"

Zoey scurried over to her father and hopped up into his lap.

"Where's Mommy?"

"Honey, we've been over this," Jed replied, calmly.

Liz and Ellie exchanged a high five, and Jed shot them a dirty look as they happily exited the room, now free of baggage.

"Tell me again."

"Mom's gonna stay with Nan and Pop tonight, Zo."

"But it's our first night at the farm!" Zoey argued.

"She'll be up tomorrow, hon."

"Why doesn't she want to stay with us tonight?"

"I don't know, sweetie. I guess she just missed Nan and Pop so much that she simply had to see them tonight," Jed surmised.

"Why couldn't we come?"

"Because she knew you'd want to stay at the farm tonight."

"I wanna stay wherever Mom is," Zoey said.

"Tell you what," Jed said. "You can call her tonight at Nan and Pop's before you go to bed. How does that sound?"

Zoey's face broke out into a huge grin.

"Kay! Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome. Now. Go bug your sisters."

Without hesitation, Zoey jumped quickly off her father's lap and began her mission to find, and successfully annoy, her older sisters. Once she was out of sight, Jed returned his feet to their rightful place on the coffee table and resumed his recumbent pose on the couch.

Andover, Massachusetts

Abbey Bartlet ascended the stairs that lead to the porch of her childhood home, as memories of years past flooded her mind. It was a cop out to say this, but things truly were much simpler back then, Abbey thought. She remembered the time she and her sisters had set up a lemonade stand on the corner (and made a total of five dollars in one day), the time they had built a fort out of ice and snow during the blizzard of '54, and the time she had watched her brother Michael ride his bike on a path right into the willow tree in the front yard, and laughed at him for well over three minutes before calling her parents for help. Still smiling at her recollections, she let herself in the front door of the house, and looked around for signs of human life.

"Dad?" Abbey called. "Nan?"

Nicholas Bennett ran up from the basement and into the foyer to greet his middle daughter.

"Abbey!" He exclaimed, drawing her into his arms for a hug.

"Hi, Daddy," she said, softly.

Nick pulled away from her slightly so he could give her the once-over.

"You look thin."

Abbey laughed.

"You just haven't seen me since I had the baby."

"Ah, the baby, the baby! Come to think of it, where is the baby?" Nick questioned.

"Jed took the girls up to Manchester already. I wanted to come and see you guys first."

"Whatever for?" Nick asked, laughing.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me!" Abbey pouted.

"I am, I am! I'm just…surprised."

Abbey moseyed into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Nick followed, observing her movements carefully. He sat down beside her and placed his arm around her shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

Abbey glanced over at him.

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Something IS wrong."

"It's nothing important." She shrugged.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"I don't know. It's probably nothing, and I'm just making something of it. It's just that..well…my daughter hates me," Abbey confessed.

"What!"

"Lane. I swear to God, Dad, the child cannot stand to be in my presence. She cries whenever I come near her, and screams at the top of her lungs if I try to touch her."

"Is it colic?"

"No! She's fine with everyone else. Perfectly well-behaved. And she just revels in Jed. She can't get enough. It's me she won't tolerate."

"Have you thought about why?" Nick asked.

"I haven't thought about anything but why. I can't come up with anything. All I did was give birth to the child, and she hates me. It's embarassing, Dad! I can't go near my own daughter without her screaming."

"Okay, cookie," Nick said, with a sigh. "It's story time."

"Is this a true story or a 'Life according to Nick Bennett' story?" Abbey replied.

"A true story! And I'm offended that you would even say such a thing."

"All right. Proceed."

"You were the same way with your mother when you were a baby," Nick stated.

Abbey stared at him for a moment, anticipating more. When he didn't continue, she narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"That's your story?"

"Yes."

"I think that's a 'Life according to Nick Bennett' story, conjured up to make me feel better," Abbey said.

"It's not," Nick insisted. "It's the truth. From the time you were a week old until you were three months old, you would cry whenever your mother came near you. It damn near drove her out of her mind. She couldn't understand what she had done to make you loathe her so. But you grew out of it."

"Dad…"

"All I'm saying is, it didn't last then, and it won't last now. She'll overcome it. Give her time. Methinks this child might be just like you. She may not like you right now, but I think she IS you. So for now, don't sweat it. If she hasn't taken to you after a few months, but maybe you should seek some outside help. But until then, I think you're okay."

"You think so?" Abbey asked, uncertainly.

"At the risk of sounding like the old, clichéd fatherly type, I know so."

April, 2003 Washington, D.C.

"How do you moniter what a doctor says to a patient in Zimbabwe anyway?" Abbey questioned.

"You don't," Jed replied, matter-of-factly.

"We'll just get more aggressive on the domestic side."

"We will."

"Move family planning to a discretionary account in next year's budget rounds," Abbey continued.

"Keep talking, I'll turn off the lights," Jed replied, leaning over to the night stand and switching off the lamp.

"Are you getting up at six tomorrow?"

"No, I have to get up early."

Jed felt her squirming around restlessly beside him and turned to face her, in the dark.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Actually, no. I have to go talk to Lane."

Abbey threw off the bedspread, swung her legs over the edge, and got out of bed. Jed leaned over and switched the lamp back on.

"Abbey, she's asleep. Whatever it is can wait until morning. Come back to bed."

"No, I can't let this simmer overnight."

"What do you need to talk to her about?" Jed asked.

"This morning she asked me if she could bring a date to the DAR thing, and I told her no."

"So? I would have told her no too."

"Yeah, but I could have been a lot nicer when I did it," Abbey said.

"What'd you say?"

"Well, she said something like 'aren't you afraid I'm just gonna stop talking to you one day?' and I said 'one can only hope.'"

"Abbey," Jed said. "I'm sure she knows you were joking. Anyone who's ever met you would know you were joking when you said that."

"Not Lane."

"She's fifteen, Abbey, your sense of humor doesn't fly over her head anymore. She understood, I'm telling you."

"I want to go apologize anyway."

"Come here," Jed said, sitting up.

"Jed…"

"Sit down."

Abbey reluctantly walked over to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. He sat beside her, and began rubbing her neck.

"As nice as that feels, I really have to go talk to Lane."

"You never really got over it, did you?" Jed asked, softly.

"What?"

"When Lane was a baby. You know."

"That's not what this is about," Abbey insisted.

"Yeah, it is," Jed replied. "You've been chewing on this for fifteen years. You have to let it go. You can't go apologizing to her every five minutes just for acting like her mother. You're supposed to tell her no now and then, you're supposed to guide and discipline her. Believe me, she's not going to love you any less because of it."

"How do you know that?"

"You're her mother, Abbey. You may piss her off at times, but that's what you're supposed to do and deep down, Lane realizes that. She gets pissed at me sometimes too. But in my opinion, if your kids are mad at you every once in awhile, that means you're doing your job right."