Part Three

The President sat behind his bare desk in the Oval Office, probably for the very last time. His photographs were packed up and his little artifacts were buried in boxes somewhere. The surface of the desk was clean, void of important files and documents. He had never seen it like this before. There had always been something there, something waiting for him. A problem desperate for his attention, a briefing needing to be read carefully. Not tonight. Tonight, he sat in his beloved chair, with his wife comfortably on his lap, and nothing on his desk. Nothing to do.

"What are you thinking about?" Abbey asked, softly.

He shrugged.

"There's nothing on the desk."

"All the more convenient for recreational activities," she joked, her eyes sparkling.

He laughed and shook his head.

"You're insane."

Abbey grinned and kissed his cheek tenderly.

"No kidding. You know, despite all of our joking about it, we've never actually made love in here. I guess we're just a class act, huh?"

"Came pretty close a couple of times."

"Well yeah, but you still haven't figured out how to close those curtains."

"And it is doubtful that I ever will," Jed replied. "Bet Matt Santos will figure it out."

"Nah. If you can't figure it out, Mr. Nobel Laureate, Santos doesn't stand a chance," Abbey said. "On your worst day, you are twice the man he'll ever be."

He smiled warmly at her.

"Flattery is not going to get you any action on top of this desk, Sweet Knees."

"That's okay." She laughed. "We have a pretty nice bed in the Residence anyway. And an even better one at home."

"Home," Jed sighed. "That's not here anymore."

She shook her head slowly.

"It never was."

He nodded sadly.

"Yeah."

"And may I remind you, Mr. President," Abbey said. "This White House hasn't always been kind to our sex life."

"Roslyn."

"Trips around the world."

"MS."

"Toby."

Jed frowned and stared at her with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"I beg your pardon."

"You don't remember?" She asked, in surprise.

"No, but I sure can't wait to take this particular trip down memory lane."

February, 2002

Long after Abbey had fallen into a fitful sleep, Jed laid awake. He focused on the ceiling as if it possessed all the answers to his questions and the resolutions to his muddled thoughts. He knew Toby had been out of line tonight; the man had so clearly crossed the line of demarcation that even in remembering Jed had to quell his indignation.
There were simply some things that went without saying, some things that were never up for discussion. Jed's relationship with his father, disciplinary and otherwise, was definitely one. Toby had no right to even broach the topic. Not in that office, of all places!
Jed had to stifle a sigh of discontent. He didn't like what their 'discussion' forced him to think about. It was opening too many wounds long scarred over and covered in delicate new skin. With every earnest look and well-placed blow he recalled, he was beginning to feel the pain anew. It was a deep and somewhat muddy pool of feelings he'd never been able to quantify or discuss; embarrassment, guilt, anger, and the overreaching sense that he'd never become what his father wanted him to be. Whatever that was. He'd never had the pleasure of learning.
It puzzled him that a man that he'd hardly wanted to know, much less be friends with, four years ago knew just the right big red button to push to leave him sleepless. Sleepless and restless and disturbed. Abbey's normally soothing presence didn't have the potency to nudge him to unconsciousness. If anything, her serene breathing irked him a little. It wasn't that he begrudged her this fine sleep but he felt that maybe if she was awake with him, the burden wouldn't rest quite so heavy on his mind.
He turned over in short careful movements until he was facing Abbey. Her eyes moved beneath her eyelids as though she was viewing a lively tennis match. She clasped her pillow with one fist and had the other one tucked under her cheek. She exhaled and her spearmint breath warmed his chin. He leaned over to brush his lips slyly against hers.
A sluggish wakefulness arose inside of her and she curiously slanted her mouth to his. He cupped her face in his steady hand, relishing how certain discomforts faded with proximity to his wife. She was proving to be a more than effective salve on his anxiety.
Abbey grasped his light touch and kissed him back, rather involved for a woman still pretty much asleep. He chuckled and moved closer, well into her space, and eased her sensuous form into a one-armed embrace. She hooked her leg around his thigh and snuggled up close to him, pushing away the covers between them. She ran her hands across the shoulders of his silk pajamas and slid one inside the opening of his top.
The matted hair on his chest tickled the underside of her fingers and her palm and the slightly rough texture of his 1 o'clock shadow sensitized her lips when she kissed his face from his strong jaw to his earlobe. He smiled at her determination and, forgoing the problematic buttons of her top, slipped his hands beyond the hem to caress the expanse of her alabaster spine.
He kissed her hair and she tried to move closer, though any closer and she would've been in his skin. He was fine with that. He was fine with her hands drifting down his chest and his stomach, with obvious designs on lower destinations. He was ecstatic to have her in his arms; he always was. This was Abbey; his beguiling, teasing, seductive Abbey. She sent him to the moon. Her hand descended completely and they both made an unexpected discovery.
Nothing was happening as she touched him. Nothing at all. Psychologically, he was thrumming with arousal, but physically he was asleep below the waist. He was…disturbed and a little horrified. Thirty-three years of marriage and this had never happened -- or not happened, as the case seemed to be. Abbey's pensive expression did nothing to alleviate the mixture of horror and shame he felt. When she looked up to meet his eyes, he shifted his gaze to her cheek. He didn't need to see the concern or pity in her eyes.
Yes, they both knew this could happen someday; they'd discussed it at length and how their love didn't hinge on their ability to have sex, how it was more than just the physical moments they shared. And yet, it was here now and he felt like not only less of a man, but less of a husband to her. She was a sexual being and if he couldn't satisfy her…he didn't deserve her. Damn this weak body!
She ached herself at what he must've been going through. She traced his cheek. She told him she loved him, but he didn't reciprocate, having descended into his brooding head.
He couldn't win. He had failed his father, betrayed his country and now he was disappointing his wife. He didn't know when he had become this structural failure of a person. Inwardly, the shards of him shuddered when she wrapped her arms around him, kissing his skin.
"It might not be permanent," she whispered to unaffected countenance. He only retreated farther into himself in response. "For all we know, this has nothing to do with the MS. It could all be in your head"
He looked down at her darkly and she resisted the urge to withdraw from him. Instead she took hold of his lapels and pulled him firmly towards her, throwing off his balance entirely. He tumbled sideways into her and they landed in a heap of sarcastic, biting, damned scared human beings on the floor. She struggled with the air being knocked out of her and he winced at the impact on his old bones. Falling out of bed together used to be fun.
He glowered down at her and she chuckled, realizing she should've thought her plan through a little better. She let go of his top and held his face just a fraction of an inch from her own. Asking for his consent soundlessly, she kissed him. She closed her eyes as a familiar pulsation washed over her. The sensation spread through her warm body to his and he senses the formidable arrival of want. Only it wasn't enough.
He pulled back at the searing ache in his chest and gasped to fill his complaining lungs. Abbey's sternum heaved and she pursed her swollen mouth. She threw an arm over her eyes and tried to calm herself down. In the near non-existent light, she had become Snow White in color, all red lips and pale flesh.
Still panting slightly, she blew out another gust of spearmint wind. "There are people you can see, people who can help"
"I shouldn't need help making love to you"
The corner of her lips quirked up and, though he couldn't see them, he knew her green eyes shimmered in sober amusement. She dropped her arm and sat up to rest on back on her elbows. "You don't need help making love to me. You do that just fine. You did that now; that kiss, that was making love to me." He looked at her skeptically. "I mean it. That did it for me. If that's all we ever have again, I'll still be satisfied. You don't need help pleasuring me. You need help living with whatever is going on in your head"
"So, what do I do?" He had been without sleep for days and now he was without another creature comfort. He was beyond feigning a good mental state.
"Leo knows a guy. He's good at what he does. His name is Stanley Keyworth. Talk to him"
"I don't like psychoanalysts"
Abbey rolled her eyes at his boneheaded stubbornness. "Then, think of him as a friend you're paying to talk with"
"I have to pay him"
She raised an eyebrow at him and he looked straight back at her rebelliously. They staged a brief battle of wills before he relented.
"All right. I'll talk to him." With some difficulty, Jed stood up and offered a helping hand to Abbey. She took it and stood up after him. They climbed back in bed, accompanied by complainant moans and groans of the middle aged. He laid back to stare at the ceiling once more, running his fingers through his hair thoughtfully. Abbey reclined on her side next to him and placed her hand over his heart. He slid his eyes from the inoffensive sheetrock to her wry gaze and moved to hold her hand.
Her eyes made him giddy, made feel like a young would-be priest still innocent to her tantalizing and enchanting ways. He wanted always to feel that way.
"I knew you'd see things my way." He gave a noncommittal grunt and muttered childishly under his breath. "Oh hush." She burrowed into the covers, cocooning with him in the start of a less than ordinary slumber.
"Good night," he uttered into her skin "Yes," she returned. Though she sincerely hoped that the rest of their nights would be better.

Jed groaned.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for reminding me of that time in my life."

Abbey laughed.

"Oh, Jethro, this is just the beginning."