Chapter Three

Washington, D.C.

"Leo."

Margaret popped her head into the Chief of Staff's office, her eyes wide and expressive as always. Leo glanced up at her briefly over the lenses of his glasses.

"Yeah."

"Dr. Griffith is here to see you"
Now officially distracted from his paperwork, Leo looked up, his confused gaze locking with Margaret ambiguous one.

"I thought she was in Manchester."

"Well," Margaret replied. "I think it's safe to say she's back."

Leo rolled her eyes, thoroughly unamused.

"Yeah, okay. I'll take the call in just a minute."

Margaret stared back at her boss with her eyes narrowed in puzzlement.

"She's…here. As in…outside your office."

"What?" Leo pulled his glasses off. "Oh. Right. Okay, send her in."

Margaret slipped out of the room and seconds later, she was replaced by the Surgeon General of the United States. Millicent Griffith strode into the room with smooth dexterity and planted herself in the chair in front of Leo's desk.

"Well? Aren't you going to say hello?"

"I thought you were in Manchester," Leo stated.

She crossed her legs, folding her hands together over her knees.

"Oh, I'm good, Leo. How are you?" Millie said.

"Why aren't you in Manchester?"

"Glad to hear you're doing well."

"Millicent, we talked on the phone six hours ago, and you were in Manchester then!" Leo exclaimed, more curious and surprised than angry.

"That is a keen observation, you know. Keep up the good work."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back to DC today?"

"I…didn't want to ruin the surprise?" Millie replied, tentatively.

"Bullshit, Millie. What's going on?"

"Okay, nothing is going on, Leo. I just came back a little early. I do have work to do you know."

"Not even the President has returned from Manchester yet. You think you have more work to do than the President?" Leo questioned.

"Drop it, Leo."

Leo shook his head.

"Nope."

Millie sighed and looked away from him.

"Oh, for God's sake."

Suddenly, a smug, toothy grin spread across Leo's normally stoic face. Millie was even taken aback by it.

"She drove you crazy, didn't she?" Leo assumed.

"I have no earthly idea what you're talking about," she replied, haughtily.

"She drove you nuts!" He laughed. "Up the wall. Am I right?"

"No!"

Leo stared at her incredulously.

"Okay, maybe a little," Millie relented.

"Ha!"

"But…"

"Ha, I say! Ha!" Leo cried out.

Millie closed her eyes and touched two fingers to her temple, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

"Am I giving you a migraine?"

"A minor one," Millie said.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, it's okay. I've had one all morning."

With that statement, his knowing smirk returned with a vengeance.

"And she gave you a migraine."

Millie shot him an evil glare that would have sent Charles Manson running.

"Shut up, would you please?"

Leo's gloating grin faded into a mere pleasant smile as he gestured for Millie to explain the situation to him.

"All right, she's driving me crazy. Abbey is driving me crazy. I won't lie."

"At least not anymore," Leo added.

"Shut up, Leo."

"Okay, okay."

"Anyway," Millie continued. "She's my best friend, I love her, and I'd do anything for her. But…I just can't handle her anymore. I don't understand her. I don't get where she's coming from, not ever. I just can't escape the fact that…I don't know her anymore."

Leo nodded thoughtfully, then stood up suddenly.

"Let's go."

"Where!" Millie asked, though she stood without hesitation.

"I think we both need a drink."

Manchester, New Hampshire

"Chocolate chip or blueberry?"

"Chocolate chip!"

"Who wants orange juice?"

"Oh, please. Hit me with the hard stuff. Coffee over here!"

"I take it you don't want decaf?"

"Good call."

Oliver Prescott stood at the kitchen counter pouring chocolate chips into the pancake batter and mixing it thoroughly. Zoey Bartlet leaned over him and picked a chip out of the batter and popped it into her mouth, grinning mischievously at him as she did so.

"You think you're cute, do you?"

Zoey nodded, confidently.

Abbey sat at the table flipping through the newspaper absently, glancing up only slightly when Sir Anthony Prescott stood before her, a pot of coffee in his hands. Her hand quickly covered her empty mug before he could pour it in.

"Uh-uh. Oh, no, you don't. That looks like decaf to me," she said, accusingly.

Tony smiled back sheepishly.

"I thought you wouldn't notice."

"Think again, buster."

Tony subserviently returned to the coffee maker, head bowed, before returning with the correct brew in his hand. She inspected it carefully before removing her hand from the mug.

"Proceed."

Tony smirked.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Zoey resumed her seat behind Abbey and stole a section of the paper.

"Why do you only read the Arts and Entertainment section?" Abbey asked her.

"I like it," Zoey replied, simply. "It's stress-free."

"Michael Jackson taking advantage of small children is stress-free for you?"

"Well…"

Abbey lifted the mug to her lips, took a quick sip, and said, "Mmm, nevermind. Forget I said anything. It's too early for Michael Jackson."

Zoey lifted her mug as well.

"I'll drink to that."

Tony poured himself a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, then advanced on the door.

"I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Abbey asked, curiously.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his coat packet and held them up. Abbey nodded.

"Ah."

When he returned five minutes later, Abbey pulled on her jacket walked out into the brisk autumn air. After she adjusted to the change in temperature, she jogged down the long, dirt driveway until she reached the large tin mailbox. She pulled open the little door and grabbed the letters and small packages that waited within the confined space. Holding the mail in her arms, she flipped through the letters until one in particular caught her eye. The envelope was unmarked, the exception being her familiar sight of her name scribbled almost illegibly on the front. She carefully ripped open the letter and pulled out the letter inside. It was typed and unsigned. Perfect.
"Dear Abbey,

I know you're not in the best place right now. You're confused and you're disillusioned. I, however, am not confused. If it's one thing I know, it's that I'm serious about our relationship and making this work. To show you how serious, I ask that you meet me in the park, not too far from the farm house. I'm sure you know which one I'm talking about. There, we can have a serious discussion about us. About the future. I want to make us work. To make us last. If you feel the same way, meet me there at ten o'clock tonight. If you don't show up, not to worry. I'll still be there for you, in whatever ways you'll let me. But I do hope you show up."

Abbey's brain reverted back to a few minutes earlier, when she had seen Tony walk down to the mail box on his cigarette break. Well, she'd seen him. His secret was out. She knew he had written the letter.

Now, the question she asked herself was, where would she be at ten o'clock?