Washington, D.C.
Tony and Cherie Blair stared blankly at the First Couple before them. The President and First Lady, positioned on the couch opposite the Blairs, sat with about a foot between them, though they did not seem to be angry. It was a cautious, inconspicuous thing, one neither Blair was poised to comment on, to each other or to the Bartlets. Reacting to the ominous silence that had taken hold of the meeting, Cherie straightened her posture, re-crossed her legs daintily, and lifted her glass of red wine to her lips. Tony glanced at her fleetingly, then smiled warily at their hosts.
Upon their arrival to the White House, the Blairs ran into a devastated Sir Anthony Prescott, in the middle of his departure. The Blairs, of course, questioned their old friend but their inquiries were met with curt replies, culminating in the exodus of Sir Anthony. And so, England's equivalent of a First Couple shrugged their shoulders and neglected to consider the matter further. Tony and Cherie had not, as they expected, been "briefed" on the state of the First Couple's union. In fact, Abbey Bartlet's presence alone startled them a bit. The last they had heard, Abbey was living in Manchester with Sir Anthony, which had, undoubtedly, put them in a rather difficult position. The Prime Minister was faced with the daunting task of making the choice between loyalty to his own, and loyalty to the country he liked to consider Britain's partner. The last few months had certainly put a strain on America's alliance with the crown. Now, sitting before America's venerable First Couple, the discomfiture of the situation was settling over them like a black rain cloud.
"More wine?"
Surprised by the sudden termination of silence, Cherie quickly shook her head and smiled nervously at the First Lady.
"No. Thanks very much."
Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat and placed his glass on the table.
"We, uh, saw you on CNN earlier, Abbey"
Her face lit up, an illumination strengthened only by the bright smile that followed.
"Did you?"
"Yes indeed. Your press secretary turned it on for us in the Mural Room while we waited for Leo," Tony replied. "You're quite the culinary artist."
The President laughed heartily and rolled his eyes.
"It's all a mirage, Tony." Jed grinned. "A little sleight of hand, if you will."
Though Abbey glared at her husband in response, both Tony and Cherie could sense her playful attitude and were duly relieved.
"All he can cook is chili," Abbey said of her husband.
Cherie smiled and nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
"All Tony can cook is curry and not much else."
"I resent that!"
"And excellent curry at that," Cherie amended, prompting a smile from her husband.
While in London, Abbey had spent a considerable amount of time, in both personal and professional capacities, meeting with the Blairs. During that time, she had developed a solid friendship with Cherie Booth Blair, a woman of remarkable accomplishment. They had become fast friends, as they had much in common. Both influential and incredibly successful in their fields, they both agreed that life as a hostess had its tedious moments. In fact, tedious was putting it lightly.
"I'd love to see what the two of them would come up with if we locked them in the kitchen together," Abbey said, looking in Cherie's direction.
"Some unimaginably ghastly combination of curry and chili, I surmise."
"Currili, anyone?"
The two women burst into convulsions of laughter while their husbands both leaned back, irritated, and took long sips from their wine glasses.
"Oh, for pity's sake, Tony," Cherie said, slapping her husband's shoulder.
"Whatever happened to that charming sense of humor I so admire?"
"It was conquered by my wife's clearly far more dominant one."
"Ah, yes," Cherie replied. "It's a shame that, being the powerful men you are, you're both sentenced to a lifetime married to equally commanding women."
Though the Prime Minister's wife instantly regretted using the word 'lifetime' where the First Couple was concerned, as she was more than uncertain of the future of their marriage, Cherie kept her composure intact. Abbey raised her wine glass in wholehearted agreement to her words.
"Women with high degrees in law and medicine."
"The best of all the lawyers and thoracic surgeons in their respective countries."
"If you ladies would like to continue patting yourselves on the back, why don't you take it outside, hmm?" Tony suggested, not unkindly.
Cherie quickly stood, taking her wine glass with her.
"Don't mind if we do. Come along, Abbey. Let the boys have their little pity party."
Without hesitation, Abbey complied. Gripping their beloved glasses firmly, they exited the room, exuding a mock air of superiority and hauteur, and proceeded towards the Truman Balcony.
Amy Gardner threw her head back in laughter with such force that her stockinged feet nearly slipped off the table. She pressed on her chair, tilting it back, then allowed it to hit the ground once more. Sitting across the table from her, Sam Seaborn laughed just as profusely, though he was much better at concealing his amusement than Amy was. He lifted his mug of coffee to his lips and took a long, fortifying sip.
"Oh, man," Amy sighed. "You're killing me, Seaborn."
"I'm glad," Sam replied. "Though I have to admit, you might be the first woman who has ever found me quite so entertaining."
"Like hell I am."
"No, really. I'm the idealistic wordsmith. Josh is the funny one."
"Josh is a cocky little jackass," Amy commented, with only a little disdain.
"Well, sure. Besides that, I mean."
"However, it has to be said that jackasses have never come in packages quite as deftly charismatic as Joshua Lyman."
"It also has to be said that it is becoming increasingly evident that you're Abbey Bartlet's right-hand woman."
"Why?"
"Jackass," Sam answered, simply.
"Ah, yes," Amy agreed. "Just a little something I picked up from the boss."
"One of what I assume must be many charming habits and inclinations you've acquired during your time here."
"You bet, Sammy."
"I think you should make it a point never to call me that again," Sam suggested, smiling.
"Duly noted."
Upon his arrival in the mess, Josh Lyman paused in the doorway, his eyes locked upon the sight of Amy and Sam lounging at the far end of the room.
"What the hell are you guys doing down here?" Josh asked, bewildered.
Sam and Amy both snapped their heads to one side, to face Josh.
"Hey, Josh," Sam said.
"How ya doin', J?" Amy questioned.
"Yeah. Whatever. How long have you been down here?"
"Oh, I don't know." Amy looked to Sam for the information.
"Two and a half hours, maybe?" Sam guessed. "Grab a cup of coffee and sit down."
Josh merely shook his head, still in the process of digesting the sight before them.
"The Blairs still here?" Sam inquired.
"Yeah," Josh answered, distracted. "They're staying the night."
"Josh?" Amy said.
"Huh."
"You all right?"
"Fine," Josh responded. "I'm just gonna head back up now and, you know, get some work done."
"You sure you don't want to join us?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. I'll see you later."
Not long after the sun had set, Abbey Bartlet and Cherie Blair stood on the Truman Balcony, staring in awe at the astounding view. Though the frigid November air threatened their placid moment, the two women remained unperturbed.
"So, we haven't had a chance to talk yet, just the two of us."
Abbey shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, I guess we'll have to seize this moment and do so."
"What's going on, Abbey?" Cherie asked, sympathetically.
"It's been a long day. Where do I begin?"
"Well, I saw a certain Prescott fellow earlier, on his way out as I was on my way in."
"Yes," Abbey murmured.
"Did you show him the door?"
"Well, not literally, as I have people who do that for me, but figuratively, yes."
"You know Prescott's one of my closest friends," Cherie stated.
"I'm sorry."
"No, no. Don't apologize. Your marriage is far more important than any friendship I may or may not have. You have my full support in any endeavor you should choose to engage in."
Abbey smiled, genuinely touched and endlessly grateful.
"You don't know how much I appreciate that, Cherie."
"Tell me what's happening with the President."
"I don't know, to be honest. We have a lot to work on and we're nowhere near the end of the road yet, but…I think there's potential."
"So he does want to fix this."
"God, I hope so," Abbey said in a desperate whisper.
"Somehow, I think it will all work out. I never told you this before, but there was a time when Tony and I held quite a bit of contempt for you two."
"Why!"
"We envied your marriage," Cherie replied simply. "Don't get me wrong. Tony and I are as happy as we've ever been. But you and Jed…you always had something we didn't. And whatever that something is, I know it'll be your saving grace. It'll work out."
"I don't know, Cherie. You have no idea what…"
"Abbey. I understand more than anyone else. In some strange, unexplainable way I admire what you did. You took off on your own, you fled the nest. I know how it feels to be suffocated, cooped up, and reduced to throwing soirees and putting on a happy face when I'm pissed as hell. I wish I could do what you did. Granted, you took it to the extreme and there are things you should have done differently. Hell, Abbey, your youngest daughter had just been kidnapped and your husband was responsible. You did what any woman, any wife, any mother with a pulse would have done. Sure, you probably should have left Tony Prescott alone, but you were acting on impulse. You wanted to hurt him the way he hurt you. I've been there. And honestly, I think this has been building for quite some time. Because of Jed, you lost your medical license and gained a whole new identity, one I'm not convinced you wanted. It's been a rough five years for you, on so many levels. If you ask me, you finally just…exploded. I think if you explain that to Jed, he'll understand, in his own way. That doesn't mean things will be gung-ho happy right away, but I can't imagine that he would reject your explanation. Your job now is to regain his trust, and vice versa. Once you can trust each other again, everything will be a little easier."
"You think so?" Abbey asked, quietly.
"I do, love. I absolutely do."
"You don't think I need to fix my life before I work on fixing my marriage?"
"Darling, life and marriage move at the same speed. They thread along the same road and travel at the same pace. When affects your life, affects your marriage and what affects your marriage affects your life. In a way, the terms are synonymous. Fix one, fix the other. Just take it one day at a time. Each step you make towards fixing your life will go a long way in fixing your marriage, and vice versa."
"Trust, huh?"
Cherie nodded.
"Trust."
