five votes - a west wing collection

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"You could still fix it." Abigail Bartlet took another sip from the glass of wine in her hand- her fourth, not that Jed needed to know that- and leaned forward. "You buried Dolores Landingham not twelve hours ago, you just revealed to the world that you have multiple sclerosis-"

"Abbey-"

She didn't let him finish, afraid of what he would say. "You weren't in the right state of mind-" She knew she was rambling. She did. But she would do anything- anything- to stop her husband from running for re-election. But when she finally looked up at Jed, she knew that her words weren't going to do anything to change his mind.

"Abbey-"

"Jed!" She tried one last time, pleading with her eyes. Don't do this, she silently begged. We need you. I need you. But he had that determined look on his face.

"I'm running, Abigail." His voice held a heavy edge to it, and Abbey shrank back. She was far from scared of her husband- in fact, usually, she held more power over him- but when he was truly passionate about something, Josiah Bartlet was a force to be reckoned with.

"Jed, we had a deal!" She didn't know how many times she had repeated that over the last few days, but it was too many. Far too many.

"Three years ago, Abigail! Three years! A lot can change in three years!"

As if she didn't know that. As if she hadn't seen it happening right in front of her face- Leo and Josh and C.J. knowing things about the Jed before she did. Jed spending less time with his family. Her spending weeks, even months, away from home- but she'd always held out hope. Hope that Jed would come through on this. Hope that, when this next year was over, they could finally be a family again.

"I have a lot of things I want to say-"

"No shit." Abbey glared at her husband, her voice choked slightly as she forced away the tears that threatened to spill. "So do I."

Jed gave her a look, to which she responded with a dark, challenging glare. "Go ahead," she finally said. She recognized the childish attitude in her voice but chose not to care, only adding "Mr. President."

"I can't." Jed's glare looked almost regretful. Almost, but Abigail knew better. His job had to come first, always. "We'll talk later."

"When, later?" There had been too much 'later' lately. She wanted to talk to her husband before they fell apart. Before she came back to the White House with divorce papers- or worse, came back to them.

"Will you be awake at three or four?" Jed's question interrupted her train of thought, and she looked up at him, shocked.

"Jed, am I usually awake at three or four in the morning?" He shook his head, at least having the decency to look abashed. "Then it would be safe to assume that I won't be tonight."

His shoulders slumped. "We will talk, Abigail."

We'd better, she thought, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. It was a moment before she heard the door close behind her.

Abbey lifted her glass to her lips, only to find that it was empty- as, she realized as she went to pour another, was the bottle. With a sharp, angry grunt, Abbey threw the glass against the wall. She watched with a strange sort of satisfaction as it shattered into a million pieces. Something about it surprised her, and it took a moment to realize what it was- no Secret Service agents had appeared. So she was alone...

With a groan, Abbey stood from the chair and made her way over to the shards. Sinking to her knees, she picked up a piece of glass and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, her mind wandering.

Jed was, as always, the first thing to come to her mind. Jed Bartlet, president of the United States. Jed Bartlet, politician. Jed Bartlet... her husband. He hadn't been as much of a husband lately, though Abbey could admit that it was partially her fault. Maybe if she spent less time in labs and hospitals, or turned down award ceremonies... she couldn't even remember the last time she had been in a room with her husband without it ending in a fight. And always about the same thing.

Abbey recalled watching on the television as Jed walked into that press conference. Windblown and wet, but strong. So strong, despite everything that had happened. Despite what was about to happen. She remembered watching her husband, standing in front of a few hundred people but knowing, knowing that he was speaking to millions. She remembered watching him point to a member of the press. Remembered realizing, suddenly, that he hadn't picked on the man C.J. had told him to. Wondering why. In her mind's eye, she watched as Jed asked the woman to repeat her question. Then she watched as he stuck his hands into his pockets and-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door slamming open. Abbey jumped up, forcing away the tears that had somehow appeared in her eyes. Her husband rushed through the residence to their bedroom, reemerging seconds later with a packet of papers. "Forgot these," he muttered gruffly, not looking at his wife.

But she watched him. She watched him closely as he walked toward the door. Was that a limp? She wondered to herself. Or am I being paranoid? But as Jed left, Abbey could see the way he favored his left leg. As the door closed behind her husband, Abbey sank to her knees amid the glass shards. There, alone, she finally admitted the truth to herself- she wasn't angry. Far from it, in fact- she was scared and in love, so in love. In love with a man who, determined as he was, would never stop, no matter the cost. And that was why she was scared.

As soon as she let herself realize that fact, she let the tears spill down her cheeks. She could never let Jed see her like this, she thought. As the tears poured down her cheeks, she realized that Jed was really doing this- and he needed her support. And she would give it to him, because despite MS, despite his presidency, and despite their arguments, Abigail Bartlet was head-over-heels in love with Jed.

When Josiah Bartlet returned to the residence sector of the White House, he found Abbey fast asleep in their bed. Her hair was messy and her makeup was smeared, but to him, she was more beautiful than she had ever been.

As the president climbed into bed, his wife's favorite record played softly in the corner of their room:

"But to cry in front of you

That's the worst thing I could do..."

[a/n: yeah, i kinda re-wrote the scene from manchester? ways and means? i can't remember? but basically, i love, love, loved that scene and, like i've said, jed and abbey are my favorite couple. so, angst]