Washington, D.C.
Darkness was no match for Leo McGarry.
Noticing the lack of sunlight outside, he merely shrugged his shoulders and switched on the small lamp on his desk. After the longest few days of their lives, Sam Seaborn, Toby Zielger, Josh Lyman, CJ Cregg, Will Bailey, and Amy Gardner returned to their quiet, empty apartments and marinated in the lonely atmosphere until 5am rolled around once more. Leo, however, remained unaffected by the time of day and the heavy workload that had burdened him recently.
When Millicent Griffith appeared in the doorway, she expected him to be delighted by her presence and treat it as a welcome distraction. After nearly two minutes, he still hadn't so much as lifted his head to acknowledge her.
"It's clear to me now why Jenny showed you the door."
At the sound of her voice, Leo's head shot up, his eyes wide.
"Sorry. I didn't see you there," he said.
"I noticed."
Millie sauntered closer to his desk until she was hovering above him, ominously. Leo glanced back up at her, his eyes reflecting only a hint of annoyance.
"Something I can help you with?"
Millie looked at him incredulously and sat on the edge of the desk's cluttered surface.
"Yeah. You said we would talk once you fixed the Fall of the American Empire."
"I still have some loose ends to tie up. Can we talk tomorrow?"
"No."
"No," Leo repeated, in disbelief.
"That's right."
"Fine."
He dropped his pen and swiveled his chair to face her directly.
"Talk."
"I'm not going to the wedding, Leo," Millie stated, resolutely.
Leo sighed.
"Don't you think this is getting a little redundant?"
"Yeah, it's redundant, but that doesn't make it unnecessary."
"You're going to the wedding, Millie. You're one of Jenny's best friends."
"I'm also sleeping with her ex-husband. How's that gonna look?"
"Well, as long as you're not sleeping with her future husband…"
"Leo."
"Millie, just go to the damn wedding," Leo ordered, thoroughly frustrated.
"My loyalty lies with you, not Jenny."
Despite his best efforts, Leo could not reconcile himself to argue with that particular statement. It had been a long time since he had been granted the unwavering loyalty of a woman, and he wasn't going to jeopardize their relationship by questioning her judgment.
"Leo?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Look, I'm not gonna fight with you anymore. If you don't want go, don't go."
Millie nodded with satisfaction.
"Okay."
The couple sat in silence for a moment, both ruminating upon the words that had just been spoken between them. Millie understood that Leo was more on the stoic side, but she had expected an entirely different reaction to her proclamation.
"I meant what I said, you know."
Leo merely nodded and cracked a slight smile.
"Yeah."
She observed his indifferent expression circumspectly, then stood from the desk and walked around until she stood in front of him. He lifted his gaze to meet hers.
"There's really no getting through to you, is there?" Millie questioned, placing her hands on her hips.
He let out a pained sigh and leaned back in his chair.
"Millie, you know I'm not…"
"Oh, yeah. I know you're not, Leo. But I am."
She flashed him a melancholy smile that broke his heart, then turned on her heel and left the office without another word.
After they recovered from the initial discomfiture that ensued upon the inception of their meeting, the Bartlets and the Blairs engaged in a lively conversation that kept the occupied for the better part of the evening. The two couples had always gotten along famously, and now found their bond strengthened even more. The friendship between Abbey Bartlet and Cherie Blair had certainly flourished and the relationship between the President and the Prime Minister was now supported by much more than political alliance.
Shortly before midnight, the Blairs retired to one of the many bedrooms in the Residence, leaving the Bartlets alone to deal with a reality neither one of them wanted to face. Once they had bid the Blairs goodnight, all smiles and good cheer, they turned to face one another, all evidence of bliss obsolete. This was the moment they had both feared since the moment Abbey returned to the White House. Now, with no obligatory duties to perform or guests to entertain, there was nothing standing between them. Nothing tangible anyway.
They stood in the hallway, with less than a foot separating them, as he avoided her gaze. He knew her searching eyes were bound to make contact with his, but he wasn't entirely certain that he could handle facing her sparkling green orbs head on.
"Well," Abbey said, almost pleasantly, with a sigh.
"Well," Jed mumbled gruffly in return.
Pleased that he hadn't needed to make the first move towards communication, his eyes dared to find hers. Just as the contact was initiated, her gaze quickly dropped to the floor.
"It's late," she whispered.
He narrowed his eyes in confusion and glanced down at his watch. 11:47 PM.
"Yeah."
She shifted uncomfortably, still not allowing her eyes to meet his.
"We should probably get some rest."
"Rest," Jed repeated. "Right. Yeah."
Abbey smiled vaguely, then turned and began the stroll to her bedroom. He watched her for a moment, not registering at first the direction in the which she was headed. It was not until she reached the bedroom door that the lightbulb in his head illuminated and began flashing incessantly.
"Abbey!"
She whirled around without hesitation and regarded him expectantly.
"I…"
Abbey took a tentative step closer to him as he stumbled somewhat over his words.
"I think…"
"What?" She asked, gently.
"I think…maybe you should sleep in the Lincoln Bedroom."
She stared at him vacantly, completely blank and impassive, waiting for his words to sink in. She took a deep breath and exhaled quietly, attempting to conceal her simultaneous feelings hurt and surprise.
"Okay," Abbey replied, agreeably. "Goodnight."
She smiled amiably at him and he contributed considerable effort in smiling back. But as she turned the corner, her expression fell into a frown and her eyes began to well up with tears.
Manchester, New Hampshire
"Checkmate!"
Zoey Bartlet raised an eyebrow at her befuddled opponent and grinned mischievously. Shocked and slightly embarassed by this unforeseen defeat, Oliver Prescott shook his head in disbelief, vindicating her. Her confidence sufficiently reinforced, she winked at her dubious boyfriend and flirtatiously blew him a kiss.
"I haven't the faintest idea how you managed that one, Miss, but I must say, I am enormously impressed."
Zoey straightened her posture and folded her arms across her chest defiantly.
"Damn right."
Oliver took another look at the chess board and, once again, shook his head with incredulity.
"No one's ever beaten me at chess before, save for my father."
"Ditto that," Zoey replied with a smirk. "We were trained by the best."
"Apprentices to the masters."
"God, what I wouldn't sacrifice to see our fathers duel over a chess match."
Oliver shrugged.
"I imagine it would be something like watching them duel over your mother"
"You know, I think my mother might have a thing for geeky chess champions," Zoey remarked.
He smiled warmly at her and lifted himself off the ground to join her on the couch.
"Like mother, like daughter."
Zoey giggled.
"Rare is the man who willingly deems himself a geek."
Oliver draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him.
"And privileged is the woman who dates that man."
As Oliver leaned forward to steal a kiss, the precious moment was ruined by the front door bursting open, followed by a gust of the bitterly cold late November air. Oliver and Zoey quickly separated, their attention instantly focused on the intruder.
"Dad!" Oliver exclaimed, hopping off the couch to greet him.
Wordlessly, Sir Anthony Prescott closed the door, unraveled his scarf, and removed his jacket in one fluid motion. Zoey sat up on her knees and leaned over the back of the couch.
"I thought you were in DC with Mom."
"I was," Tony answered. "Until she ousted me."
"What do you mean, she ousted you?" Oliver questioned.
"She ousted me. Kicked me out, showed me the door. One look at your dear old dad, Zoey, and I was history."
Zoey blushed and averted her eyes from both his and Oliver's icy ones.
"I'm sorry, Tony," she said, quietly.
"No, you're not," Tony answered, though not entirely unkindly.
"No," Zoey admitted. "I'm not."
"That's all right. It's my own damn fault. I should have known better than to invest my emotions in a married woman."
"Pretty much, yeah," she said.
Oliver glared at her.
"Zoey."
"What!"
He shook his head and returned his attention to his father.
"It wasn't entirely your fault, Dad. She shouldn't have lead you on like she did."
Tony nodded pensively.
"Yes. Anyway. I'm going to go pack up my things. I'm going to catch the next flight to Heathrow. Ollie?"
"Yeah."
"You coming?"
"Where?"
Tony laughed.
"Home!"
Oliver turned and looked at Zoey apprehensively. Her eyes were wide and glistening with potential tears.
"Well? Are you coming or not?" Tony pressed him.
When Oliver glanced back at Zoey, she had already turned her head in the opposite direction, not wanting to influence his decision with her tears. Oliver bit his lip and looked back at his father.
"I don't know."
Washington, D.C.
Jed couldn't believe he had said that to her. He couldn't believe he had pushed her away when he wanted so desperately to be close to her. No, he reassured himself, he was right to do what he'd done. She couldn't expect to be welcomed back into their bedroom, or his heart, with open arms. Could she?
Abbey didn't know what she had expected. She knew it would take a great deal of time and effort to repair what had been broken in her marriage, yet the thought of not sleeping in her own bedroom had never occurred to her. It made sense when she considered it, but that thought did nothing to diminish the pain it caused her to hear his words replay in her mind.
She didn't mind sleeping in the Lincoln Bedroom. In fact, she was fond of Lincoln Bedroom in and of itself. Often when Jed was away, that was where she would sleep. Well aware of the rumors that it was haunted by the ghost of Abraham Lincoln, none of them deterred Abbey. The rumors were one of many reasons she loved the bedroom. She enjoyed the distraction, especially with Jed far away. She found it difficult to sleep in their own bed without him in it, and the Lincoln Bedroom was her refuge during that time. Now, it appeared that it was to become her sanctuary once again.
After taking a long, soothing shower, Jed changed into a Notre Dame t-shirt and boxers. Instead of crawling into bed and sleeping until Christmas as he had hoped to do, he began to pace the room. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, as he contemplating the idea of Abbey sleeping just yards away from him, all alone. He imagined her small body curled up in the middle of the large antique bed and cringed at the thought.
Having changed into her own silk pajamas, Abbey stood at the foot of the Victorian rosewood bed. She admired the elaborately detailed headboard and the design which reminded her of a cathedral. Shifting her gaze to either side of the bed, she observed the portraits of Andrew Jackson and Mary Todd Lincoln. Whenever she spent the night, she liked to imagine Mrs. Lincoln and President Jackson protecting her from whatever spirits allegedly haunted the infamous room. Satisfied by her illusory security, Abbey pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed.
Once he had paced nearly every inch of his bedroom, Jed pulled on his bathrobe and set off to pace the hallways of the Residence. The agents watched him in bewilderment as he walked around the mansion aimlessly, obviously lost in thought. Their watchful eyes followed him as he passed by them time and time again, now muttering under his breath.
Abbey took one passing glance at the Gettyburg Address sitting on the desk a few feet from the bed, then leaned over and switched off the lamp. She pulled the wool blanket up over her shoulders and scrunched up into a fetal position.
Jed paused when his pacing brought him to the closed door of the Lincoln Bedroom. He stood in front of the blocked entrance, listening to no avail. Slowly, his hand crept to the doorknob involuntarily. Before his mind caught up with it, the knob had been twisted and the door itself pushed open. To his dismay, he was greeted by an endless pool of darkness from inside the room. For a moment, the darkness nearly overpowered him, but once he realized the door had been opened, it occurred to Jed that his subconscious decision had been made. He closed the door behind him and plowed through the darkness, threading past the shadows and silhouettes that stood in his way. When his eyes started to adjust to the lack of luminosity, he could discern the figure of his wife, now sitting up in bed, having been startled by his arrival.
"Jed?"
Jed moved closer to the bed and smiled. He had passed through the darkness, and she was the light. Flawed and full of impections, she was the light.
"We still have a long road to travel, Abbey, and we're far from our destination," he whispered, now standing beside the bed. "But I forgive you."
Though he could barely distinguish her facial expressions, he knew precisely what her reaction was. He gripped the corner of the blankets and lifted them as he crawled in beside her. Hesitantly, she relaxed her muscles and lowered herself back down onto the pillows, holding her breath. Jed wrapped a gentle arm around her waist and could almost see her smile despite the darkness the enveloped them. She twisted onto her side and was secretly delighted when his arm remained in its place. He inched closer to her until her body was molded against his.
"I forgive you."
Darkness was no match for Jed Bartlet.
