Danny Concannon walked out of the Oval Office with a smirk on his face. Charlie Young, having not been accustomed to people exiting the office sporting such an expression, did not hesitate in asking the renowned journalist just what he was grinning about.
"I'm off the hook," Danny replied, succinctly.
"Oh, I see," Charlie responded. "Except…no, I don't. What just happened?"
"That call Debbie put through to the President…"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"It was his daughter, Liz."
"And?"
"And Liz had some news," Danny explained. "Now, I don't know what that news is but it resulted in the President forgetting all about the quote and, subsequently, all about me. So it's back to work."
"Yeah. I'm happy for you," Charlie said, dryly. "Excuse me."
Danny shrugged and bid farewell to Debbie while Charlie swiftly entered the Oval Office. Inside, he found the President standing in front of the window with his back to him. Charlie had witnessed this image many times, and knew all too well that it was a sign that the President was in deep thought and it wasn't neccesarily a swell idea to interrupt him. However, Charlie's curiosity by far exceeded his better judgment, a rare occurance.
"Mr. President."
Jed Bartlet whipped around, inwardly thrilled to have someone upon whom to heap his rage.
"I knew it!"
"Knew what, sir?" Charlie questioned.
"That family is chock full of scoundrels."
"Scoundrels, sir?"
"They're scalliwags, Charlie. Diabolical rogues."
"Yes, sir. Who are we talking about?"
"The Prescotts!" Jed exclaimed.
"Ah."
Should have seen that coming, Charlie thought.
"They blaze through women like desperados in the old west. You know what I'm talking about, Charlie."
"Yes, sir."
"Skirt-chasers, that's what they are. Not a care in the world. Not a single passing thought to who they hurt along the way."
"I thought we were rid of Sir Anthony, Mr. President," Charlie said.
"Oh, we are, Charlie. We are."
"Has he come back for revenge? Sir Anthony strikes back?"
"Not that scalliwag, Charlie," Jed replied. "Scalliwag Jr."
Charlie frowned. Not that he was a fan of Tony Prescott upsetting the President, but he was even less of a fan of Oliver Prescott doing the same.
"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. President, what did he do"
"Ran out on my youngest daughter. That's what he did, the swine."
"He left Zoey?" Charlie asked, incredulously.
"He told her he was going to stay back in Manchester with her when Tony left. Then he skipped on out to Logan and left a note in his place."
As Charlie stared straight ahead, his eyes wide with anger, it soon began clear to the President that they were no longer focused on him, but on something much greater.
"Charlie?"
Jerked out of his daze, Charlie looked up at his boss.
"I'm gonna kill him."
"What?"
"Nothing, sir, I apologize. I just came in to give you this message from the First Lady."
Jed's face brightened considerably.
"Oh?"
"She's asked me to clear your schedule for the evening," Charlie said.
"And you did?"
"Yes, sir. I've found in the past that arguing with the First Lady does more harm than good."
Jed chuckled.
"Keen observation, Charles."
"She's sending a car to pick you up at 6:30, at the ellipse."
"At the ellipse?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why the ellipse?"
"She didn't say."
"All right." Jed nodded. "Did she say where I would end up?"
"No, sir."
"I assume the Service is aware."
"I think that's fair, sir."
"Did she say anything else?" The President wondered.
"Yes, sir."
"What's that?"
"She said not to be late."
Josh Lyman hadn't left his office all afternoon. He held all meetings in his office and had Donna, who had become mildly concerned with his unnatural behavior, pick him up some lunch. She had questioned him numerous times, and he brushed her off without giving it a second thought. After awhile, her worry began to grow and she called for back-up.
Sam Seaborn knocked on Josh's door and granted himself entry when he received no response from within. Inside, Josh was facing his computer, leaning in intently. Sam shut the door behind him and stood against it.
"Hey."
Josh did not turn to look at him.
"Hey."
"What're you doing?" Sam asked.
"Boosting my ego," Josh replied. glanced at Sam through the corner of his eye.
"Yeah. Donna send you in?"
"Yeah," Sam answered, honestly. "Well, no. Actually, I was going to stop by sometime today."
"Glad it all worked out for ya then."
Sam nodded and approached the desk.
"I just had lunch with the First Lady."
"I'm guessing it was a nutritional one."
"She conned me into eating a fruit salad, so yeah, I'd say that's pretty accurate."
"That's a surprise," Josh said, blandly.
"She's doing a Presidential Classroom seminar next week."
"Good for her."
Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Yeah. So, I heard you really gave Richardson a talking to this morning."
"You could say that," Josh replied.
"Listen, there's something I need to talk to you about."
Josh turned his chair to face his colleague and looked at him blankly.
"I'm telling you this because I want you to hear it from me. You deserve that much."
"What is it, Sam? Spit it out."
"I'm going out with Amy tonight," Sam admitted sheepishly.
After an awkward moment of silence, Josh said, "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"She likes Thai."
Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"What?"
"Thai food. She's a big fan."
"Okay. You're good with this then?" Sam assumed.
"I'm more than good. I'm great with it. I'm thrilled you're dating my ex-girlfriend. I couldn't ask for anything more. In fact, I had secretly wished for this. But never in my wildest dreams did I think…"
Sam rolled his eyes.
"Okay. Obviously you have some…reservations."
"You're damn right I do!" Josh exclaimed, rising from his chair.
"It isn't like I stole her from you, Josh."
"Yes, it is. That's exactly what it's like."
"How?"
"Because…because now I don't have the option. I can't go ask her to dinner whenever I feel like it."
"That's not something you should be doing anyway, if you ask me. You can't just have her whenever you please, at your convenience. She deserves better."
"And you think she deserves you," Josh said.
"She deserves better than both of us. But at least I'm not yanking her around like a playtoy or something."
"You're not exactly a white knight yourself, you know. You're something of a cad too. Not only that, but you're also a quisling. You're a recreant, a turncoat. You're like Paul Newman in that Hitchcock spy movie. You're Benedict Arnold. You're Joe McCarthy, you're HUAC."
"What?"
"I don't know, but you're bad news, that's what you are," Josh said.
"Yeah, okay."
Sam shook his head in disbelief as Josh headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Sam questioned.
"I'm going to call up Mallory O'Brien. Or Ainsley Hayes. Maybe Sherborne Seaborn too. Hey, heard from Laurie lately?"
"Now you're just being immature."
"It's me or her, Sam."
"You're kidding me with this, right? Tell me you're kidding."
"I'm not kidding."
"What, are we gonna duel over her now? Have a joust? Seriously, Josh, how medieval can you get?"
Josh placed his hands on his hips obstinately.
"What's your decision?"
Manchester, New Hampshire
Zoey Bartlet lowered herself into the bathtub and sank into the warm, soapy water. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her tired eyes, allowing the water to calm her shot nerves. She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
Then, she made a mental list of everything that had gone wrong in her life over the last six months. First, her kidnapping, which she still hadn't been able to discuss in detail with anyone besides her psychiatrist. Then, the breakdown of her parents' marriage, the death of her grandfather, the death of her sister's fiance, and finally, being abandoned by her boyfriend, one of few people she had allowed herself to trust following her abduction. Oliver Prescott had chosen England over her. Not too long ago, she had been betrayed by the unmentionable French suitor as well. What did that say about her?
And what was she supposed to do now?
Jed Bartlet's eyes were glued to the window as the motorcade drove alongside the Potomac River. Even now, he was not enlightened as to his pending location. "The First Lady insists on keeping your destination under wraps," Coop had said. And God knows Charlie hadn't been much help. Not only was he influenced by Abbey's orders, but he was also far too distracted with thoughts of the youngest First Daughter to think clearly. Jed had sent him home early. Hopefully he wouldn't be needing him anyway.
The limosine's pace slowed and finally the vehicle came to a halt. Jed glanced out the window at his surroundings, a place foreign to him. He stepped out of the car and looked around. The restaurant, H20, sat on the bank of the river, boasting what Jed imagined was a breathtaking view from inside. Although, he was a little afraid of what else he would find inside.
Jed walked past the agents stationed outside the building and went inside. He was surprised to find the place completely empty, with only one table set up in the main room. Along one side of the room the wall was completely made of glass, revealing the spectacular view Jed had suspected he would find. He stood alone in the middle of the large space before his wife seemed to appear out of the thin air. She was wearing red and white plaid pajama pants and a casual pink t-shirt. Her hair was messily gathered into a ponytail and her makeup was almost nonexistant. She looked radiant.
"Hey there," Abbey greeted him cheerily.
"Hey," he returned. "It appears I'm a little overdressed."
"Not for much longer."
She tossed a folded pair of sweat pants and Notre Dame t-shirt at him, which he caught at the last minute. He looked back up and caught a glimpse of her sly grin.
"I'm supposed to change into these?"
"Yes, sir," Abbey replied. "Unless you prefer being uncomfortable."
"But…"
"You want to argue or you want to change?"
"Depends," Jed answered. "What's for dinner?"
"Vegetarian lasagna."
"Then I want to argue."
She laughed.
"It's not vegetarian lasagna."
"What is it then?"
"It's a healthy serving of you're just gonna have to wait and see."
"I had that once," he said. "Wasn't impressed."
"Oh, go change, would you please?"
He nodded in somewhat reluctant agreement.
"Where?"
She pointed down the hallway behind him.
"Down the hall on the left."
Jed nodded.
"Right. Okay. Can I ask…"
"Why?" Abbey assumed.
"Yeah."
"Well, I considered making use of some of the designer clothes I bought in London, but then I thought this might be a little more fun. A nice, casual dinner. Can't remember the last time we had one of those, can you?"
He shook his head, and she continued.
"This gesture also happens to be symbolic."
"Of?"
"My attempt to restore what I miss most."
"What's that?" Jed questioned.
"Our friendship."
Dr. Millicent Griffith paced the floor of Leo McGarry's office with her eyes turned down and her emotions turned off. She thought it would be best to execute the prospective confrontation with an air of impassiveness. She wrung her hands nervously, forcing all of her stray emotions to keep themselves in check. When she heard movement outside the closed door, she paused. She stood static and stationary in front of the desk at the exact moment Leo entered the room.
"All right." He walked over to his desk and dropped a manilla folder onto the surface.
"What'd I do now?"
Millie took a deep breath and turned into the opposite direction. He narrowed his eyes in confusion and advanced toward her hesitantly.
"What is it?"
Suddenly, she whirled around. Her tear-filled eyes locked directly with his mystified ones. She folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip. He raised a curious eyebrow and waited for her to state her business.
"I think we're making a mistake."
Leo walked over to his desk and perched on the edge, observing her thoughtfully, and skeptically.
"Uh-huh."
"I think we're moving too fast," Millie said, softly.
He frowned and folded his arms across his chest just as she had done a moment earlier.
"Yeah."
"I'm not in a good place right now. I'm…"
Leo impeded her words by standing upright and closing in on her.
"Millie, where the hell is this coming from?"
Caught off-guard by his demand, Millie took a moment to gather her thoughts and focused briefly on the concealing of her emotions.
"Well, I think it's been building for quite some time, Leo."
He shook his head.
"No. It's been building since Jenny sent out the invitations to her damn wedding."
"Look, Leo…"
"No, you listen to me. I don't think I'm going to like what's about to happen here so I'd really like to put a stop to it while I still can," Leo said.
When her emotions threatened to unravel, Millie once more began to wring her hands and bit her lower lip.
"I've been divorced less than a year," she said, finally. "And it wasn't a very amicable parting, if you recall. I'm not especially anxious to be thrown into that position again."
"What position? We're not even married, how can there be a divorce on the horizon?"
"That's not what I'm saying."
"Then what in God's name are you saying, Millicent?" Leo questioned angrily.
"I'm saying I fell too hard and too fast!" She blurted out suddenly. "I'm saying that after a thirty-five year marriage shattering so abruptly, it's probably not a good idea to get so…involved with another person."
"That's not what this is about."
"Leo…"
"No! That's not what this is about and you know it!" He exclaimed.
"Then what is it about! Since you have such insight into my emotions, tell me what this is about!"
"This is about commitment."
Millie laughed cynically and shook her head.
"This is not about commitment."
"Oh, yes, it is. You fell too hard and too fast, and you're convinced I didn't do the same"
"Well, it's a fair assumption, isn't it?"
Leo groaned and plunged his hands into his pockets in frustration. He turned away from her, not wanting to see the excess moisture dangling around her eyes. He walked to his desk, then turned and approached her. He absorbed her shaken but sturdy figure and then backed away from her once again.
Leo McGarry was not an emotional man. He had never had been. Following his divorce, the indifference was only heightened. He could easily convey many feelings, dissatisfaction among them, but romantic love was very seldom on that list, despite any and all efforts to change that. He wanted so badly to tell her that her accusation was false. He wanted so badly to be honest, and tell her what she needed to hear. It was a flaw that had ended his marriage. And, he feared, a flaw that would thwart all subsequent relationships.
"Okay," Millie said, her voice broken and timid. "Suspicions confirmed."
Without looking at him, she grabbed her purse from the couch and slung it over her shoulder.
"It would never have worked anyway."
He didn't believe it, and he knew she didn't either.
"Our lives are too stressful, too consuming," she continued. "We serve at the pleasure of the President. There's not much room for anything else."
Unfortunately, that was a case he could not dispute. She smiled at him cordially and placed one hand on the doorknob before glancing back at him fleetingly.
"Take care, Leo."
He merely nodded in response. She exited the office in haste, closing the door behind her. He slowly walked toward his desk and lowered himself into the chair behind it. He dropped his head into his hands and waited for the moment when Margaret would inevitably pop her head in and inquire as to the Surgeon General's rapid departure.
As always, he would tell her to mind her own business.
After Jed changed into the clothes Abbey had chosen for him, they sat down to a dinner of prime rib, to his utter astonishment. The first few minutes were decidedly awkward as they both took their time adjusting to their surroundings, and companion. It was not long, however, before the ice was broken and dialogue began flowing out of both of them without showing any signs of stopping. They spoke mostly of the past, drowning in the wistful nostalgia of their early days as a couple. They swapped anecdotes and tried in vain to remember some of the more colorful characters that had passed through their lives over the years.
They did not discuss their years in the White House, nor did they discuss past six months.
In the middle of relaying an anecdote from Ellie's first birthday party, Abbey's cell phone rang. She smiled apologetically at her husband, pulled the phone out of her purse, and answered it.
"Hello? Hey, Mil. Listen, I'm in the middle of…what! Oh,no. Oh, my God. Yeah. Okay, one sec."
She covered the phone with her palm and turned to Jed.
"It's Millie."
"So I gathered," he replied.
"She just broke up with Leo."
Jed's jaw dropped in disbelief.
"You're kidding."
"No." She stood. "I'm just going to talk her through this for a minutes, okay?"
"Yeah, fine."
"Thank you."
Abbey walked a few feet away from the table and continued her conversation. Jed watched her with interest as she made numerous attempts to calm her best friend. Just as Jed began to wonder how Leo was handling the situation, he heard a bit of commotion from the far end of the restaurant.
"Hey, hey. I'm his goddamn secretary. It's not like I've got a gun in my purse. I happen to need this job. Out of my way."
Jed chuckled to himself. That was unmistakably Debbie Fiderer. He stood up from the table and met her as she entered the room. She was visibly harried and her eyes were wide and nervous.
"What's going on, Debbie?"
"Sir…" Debbie cocked her head to one side, gesturing toward Abbey.
"Abbey!" Jed called.
Abbey glanced behind her shoulder and upon seeing her husband's secretary, began slowing walking in their direction until she stood beside Jed.
"What is it?"
"Mr. President, ma'am…I'm afraid I have some bad news," Debbie said.
Jed frowned.
"Go on."
Debbie took a deep breath before continuing. Jed and Abbey exchanged apprehensive glances.
"About fifteen minutes ago, Zoey attempted suicide."
THE END.
