Manchester, New Hampshire
There was not a method to Abbey Bartlet's recent madness. No method, no explanation, no excuse. She knew that just as well as those around her had speculated. It wasn't something she was prepared to deny. She had made mistakes and she would be the first to freely admit that. Lately, the only thing getting her through the day was knowing that she was, however slowly, on the road to recovery. Her psychiatrist back in England had helped her to a place where she could understand not where she was, but where she wanted to go. Somewhere, she had always known. Dr. Hewson had carried her to that somewhere and then abandoned her to make the journey home alone. But it was just what she needed.
No, there was no method to Abbey's madness. There was a method to drown out the madness though. It involved placid silence, a warm, comfortable environment, and Tennesee Williams. Abbey had been reading Williams' plays since she was a teenager, absorbing the pitch-perfect, brilliant dialogue and the compelling plots. Now she found she enjoyed reading them even more. The common theme of all of Williams' plays seemed to be some version, occasionally subtle, occasionally not quite so, of insanity. Reading of others' lunacy lessened the severity of her own mild form, in her mind at least. Mad southern heroines like Blanche DuBois, Amanda Wingfield, Carol Cutrere, Catharine Holly, Alma Winemiller, Serafina Delle Rose, and Maggie the Cat calmed her nerves by reminding her how good she really had it.
Buried in her worn copy of Orpheus Descending, Abbey sat curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of tea on the end table beside her. Every so often, she glanced at her watch, pausing to consider what little time had passed, then returned her attention to the play before her. Fifteen minutes went by and she had resisted every urge to check the time. The next time she allowed her eyes to leave the page, they immediately fixated upon three young ladies standing still in the arched doorway. The warmth in her eyes granted them entrance into the room and they quickly flanked either side of her on the couch. Abbey closed the play and placed it next to her tea on the table. She shifted her gaze to observe them each one by one, waiting for one of them to speak.
"Well?" Abbey asked, finally.
The youngest jabbed the oldest in the ribs; the oldest looked to the middle child for unspoken guidance. The middle child averted her eyes.
"We're sorry. That's all," Elizabeth Bartlet Westin said. "Okay?"
"You're sorry," Abbey repeated. "Okay. For what?"
"Well…"
"Is this going to be like the time you were playing frisbee in the house and broke all of my mother's good china?"
All three children cracked a smile.
"No," Elizabeth replied.
"We just feel like we haven't really been there for you," Zoey explained.
"Myself in particular," Ellie added.
Abbey smiled at them sympathetically.
"I haven't done anything worthy of your support."
"It doesn't matter," Ellie said. "We're your children. You're supposed to be able to count on us."
Abbey touched her palm to Ellie's cheek lightly and smiled.
"Thank you, sweetheart."
"Can you forgive us?" Zoey questioned.
Abbey hesitated for a moment, all of the events that had taken place in the past four months bursting like bubbles in her head.
"I think the question is, can you forgive me?"
Washington, D.C.
The only thing Margaret could smell was chinese food. The scent wafted over to her desk from the other side of Leo McGarry's closed office door and affected her so profusely that she decided to take her dinner break as well. She stood and knocked on the office door, popping her head in.
"Leo. I'm heading down to the mess."
Leo looked up from his carton of chinese food, one of many strewn about the crowded room, and nodded. Margaret smiled curtly, then took her leave.
"Why didn't you just get her some of this?" CJ asked, holding up her chopsticks.
"She didn't want any! She's flakey."
Sam leaned over and tapped Josh on the shoulder, then swapped food cartons.
"I can't believe you've been keeping shrimp fried rice from me all this time!" Sam complained.
Josh shrugged.
"You never asked."
"Toby, pass me a fortune cookie, would you?" CJ called across the room.
Toby reached into the brown paper bag beside him and threw her a cookie.
"Thank you!"
"Your talents will be recognized and suitably rewarded," CJ recited from her fortune slip. "Well, it's about time."
"All right, can we talk business for a few minutes please?" Leo implored them.
"Sure," CJ replied, chewing her fortune cookie. "What's up?"
"The President's scheduled to return tomorrow afternoon. And it appears he's bringing Zoey with him. And Oliver Prescott."
The staff groaned in a mixture of discontent and frustration.
"The press is gonna have a field day with this," CJ commented.
"Not to mention the American people in general," Josh added.
"Meanwhile, we should probably give Oliver his own detail to protect him from the President," Sam said.
"Nah," Leo said. "The President's got no beef with Oliver, that I know of. Oliver's been good to Zoey, a perfect gentleman. And I think the President's got a weakness for him because he's the one who called when the First Lady was…"
They all nodded, instinctively understanding.
"Anyway, there's also a possibility she'll be returning with him. God willing."
"The First Lady?" Josh asked, surprised.
"Yeah. I don't know what's going on there, but the President seems pretty optimistic. He thinks the funeral softened her."
"What a way to put it," CJ said.
"We'll see. I want you to be prepared for that though. If the First Lady does return, it's going to be chaos here, in more ways than one."
"Great," Toby muttered under his breath.
"Josh," Leo said. "I want you to go talk to Amy, because I'm not convinced Mrs. Bartlet is gonna give her a heads-up if she's coming back. Also, let her know how much we appreciate her hard work over the past few months. I know it's been hell for her."
"For all of us," Toby said.
Manchester, New Hampshire
As the clock neared the stroke of ten, Abbey stood in front of the mirror observing her reflection. She stared into the glass for a moment, her burning eyes instilling yet-absent confidence into her body. In a few minutes, she would be meeting Tony in the park. He wanted to further their relationship. She only wanted to end it.
