Changes

by: Allison

Character(s): Jed, Abbey
Pairing(s): Jed/Abbey
Category(s): Drama, AU
Rating: MATURE
Summary: A (probably AU) view of what might happen after "the announcement."

Out on the street he stopped and faced her in the glow of lamplight. The light from above and the shadows brought out the worry lines on her forehead, the circles under her eyes, the deep frown that hadn't left her face all night. It also glinted off the red in her hair as she raked her fingers through it, the little idiosyncratic gesture that revealed she didn't really know what to do next. He reached up, against his better judgement, and pulled her hand down. "So," he said.

"So," she replied, closing her eyes for a moment against the dry burn created by too many held-back tears and too much alcohol and cigarette smoke. He made himself let go of her wrist and stepped back, putting at least two feet of space between them.

"You want me to drive you home?" he asked.

"I have my car," she replied.

"You're not driving like this."

"I am perfectly capable of -"

"Not after three scotches. You want me to call you a cab, or do you want me to drive you home?"

She sighed and lifted her hand slightly, then lowered it again, as if about to mess with her hair and then changing her mind. "Danny, I can't..." She changed the angle of her head, looking at him intently, and waved one hand in a general way as she looked for the words to convey what she needed to tell him. "You know, I still can't..."

"I know," he said quickly as soon as he caught on. "That wasn't a proposition. Just let me drive you home so you get there safe."

She laughed shortly to herself and finally nodded. "Okay."

She walked straight as they went to his car, but once inside he noticed she slumped against the back of the seat - he couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol or the day. They didn't speak on the way to her building, but when he cut the engine she looked over sharply at him.

"Just going to walk you to the door," he assured her, holding up both hands in a defensive posture. She nodded tiredly and opened the door, leaning heavily on the side of the car as she got out.

As she fumbled with her keys he asked gently, "You ready for tomorrow?"

Key in the lock, she turned and met his eyes with her tired, sad ones. "As ready as I ever will be."

"He'll do okay."

"You think?" she asked, still keeping her hand on the key but not turning it. "There's no way to predict how people are going to - hell, how the reporters are going to react."

"I'll ask a good question," he promised, leaning against the wall and holding her gaze with his. "One that'll make him look good and let him stand up for himself."

She blinked slowly and said in a deep, low tone, "That's why it never would have worked, Danny."

"I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it because I like him," he answered, folding his arms across his chest.

"It wouldn't have mattered." She slumped against the door, seemingly forgetting to let herself in. His eyes raked over her body, from the highlights in her hair now caught by the hall light, to the tired contours of the face he had grown to love, to her slender frame and long, elegant legs which at the moment all radiated total exhaustion. Not for the first time, he understood what he could never have. The tiniest grain of selfishness reminded him that if Bartlet were impeached she wouldn't be the press secretary anymore - but he fought that voice down. She loved what she did, and she was born for it - and he would do everything in his power to keep her, to keep them all, from losing that. Even if it meant that it would be another five or six years, and that she would surely find someone else before then. Even that.

Gently he reached past her and turned the key, pushing her apartment door open. "Go to bed, C.J.," he told her softly.

She looked up at him and nodded, her exhaustion showing through in the fact that she didn't even try to argue with him. As she turned he dropped a hand on her shoulder, allowing them both that much contact, and said, "You'll be fine tomorrow. You always are." With an expression he might have described as ironic she thanked him and shut the door behind her. The next time he saw her would be across the press room, as she stood at the podium, trying not to shake visibly, her eyes darting over to the doorway where the President was waiting to make his announcement and face the people. He would see her from afar and want to go to her, and want to let her cry, and know that he didn't have that right.

*****************

When she woke it was to the hazy realization that there was a warm body pressed along the length of hers and a hand resting in her hair. A mental catalogue of her body revealed some soreness, and as she was contemplating the best way to sneak out and then come up with a plan to deal with what had happened, the body under her shifted. Holding back a sigh, she opened her eyes and found him looking down at her. "Hi," he said quietly.

Her smile wasn't entirely forced; the look in his blue eyes reminded her of various points of the night before. "Hi," she replied.

He looked down for a moment, realized that he was staring at her chest half-covered by blankets, and looked back up to meet her eyes with a sheepish smile. Groping for something to say, he cleared his throat and said, "It's only five-thirty."

"Okay," she said, not able to come up with anything better either.

They looked at each other for another moment, and then both of them laughed nervously. It cleared the air a little, and when they had stopped he grinned broadly at her and said, "Let's try this again. Good morning."

"Good morning," she replied, her eyes twinkling.

The hand in her hair began to stroke gently as he asked, "Did you sleep well?"

"I should be asking you," she replied softly, taking a deep breath and reaching for his free hand.

"I did," he said a little shyly. His hand stopped its motion, but the other one gripped hers firmly. "I want to thank you, but I don't want you to think - I mean, I'm not thanking you for sleeping with me, just for, you know, being here. I don't want you to think this was a using you for sex thing, or..."

"I didn't think that," she said quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Not even a little?"

He felt her stomach contract under their hands as she laughed. "Okay, a little."

"It wasn't that," he repeated more quietly. "When I came looking for you, I didn't intend to... but then once it started to happen it was - such - comfort."

"I'm relieved to hear that sex with me is 'comfortable,'" she said dryly as he fumbled for more words.

He laughed. "You know what I mean." They both suddenly realized that in the process of the conversation they'd rolled back into each other. In the light of day and rationality being skin-to-skin wasn't a thing to be taken lightly, and a faint blush spread over her entire body. In a split second he decided to seize the moment and banish the embarrassment permanently. He slid back down in the bed, resting his head on the pillow, and pulled her back into his arms. One hand stroked up and down the length of her spine as he whispered, "I mean, just on top of everything - plus everything I feel for you... Last night was - really nice."

"It was," she agreed, thinking that sometime soon they would have to come back to 'everything I feel for you.'

He inhaled deeply and continued, "And I don't really think it's something we should reserve for times of national crisis."

Her heart pounded, but she tried to keep her emotions under control. "So you're saying we should do this again?"

Instead of answering he tipped her face up to his and kissed her, hesitantly as if it were the first time but gradually growing more confident and deeper. In a way it was the first time, since last night they had been able to hide behind the screen of desperation, fear, grief, whatever they chose to call it - but anything they did this morning was without that excuse. It would have to mean that they were attracted to each other on a more than visceral, sexual level, which last night had not forced them to admit.

When their lips parted he pulled her closer still and said with a smile, "We make good partners, you know. At work, after work, in bed... you know, when you blush I can actually feel your skin getting hotter?"

She only buried her face in his chest and smacked him lightly. They lay for a moment, nestling together and getting the hang of comfortable silence. His chest lifted with a deep breath and he said thoughtfully, "I'll be standing at the back during the press conference..."

"You want me to come with you?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he replied. "It's going to be stressful enough for C.J. and the President without looking over the room and seeing a Republican out there..." He wasn't able to keep the smile out of his voice at the end of that sentence, and she hit him again before asking, "Seriously, though?"

"Seriously," he replied, "please come with me."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, squeezing her shoulder. "I'm going to want the company."

"Okay," she replied, trying not to make too much of the request.

"Plus I want a human shield in case the conservative press get violent."

"Sam!" she exclaimed, laughing and exasperated at the same time. "What am I going to do with you?" Seeing the glint in his eye she added, "Wow, I walked into that one, didn't I?"

He nodded, grinning, and glanced over at the clock. "Well, it's going to be a pretty bad day, and it would be nice to start it off right - and we do have about an hour before you should go home and change..."

"Seriously, Sam," she said again as he rolled partially on top of her, "it's going to be bad, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah," he said soberly, leaning down to kiss the bridge of her nose. "Be with me?"

She frowned at his ambiguous request. "Now, or... ?"

"Well, now would be nice, but I meant today."

She smiled and pushed up a little to kiss him back. "Of course."

****************

When she woke the cot beside her was empty, the blankets bunched at the bottom as if they'd just been kicked off. She slipped curiously out of bed, caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, contemplated covering up the slightly immodest white shirt with something, for an unknown reason decided against it, and padded out into the apartment. She smelled coffee and warm soapy steam and wondered how long he'd been up.

"Hi," he greeted her, his face actually brightening when she walked into the small kitchen.

"You made coffee," she replied.

"It's surprisingly easy," he teased. "Want a muffin?"

"Did you go shopping?" she asked in disbelief, dropping into a chair.

He grinned sheepishly. "There's a little convenience store on the corner..."

"You're crazy," she said fondly, reaching for the box of muffins he offered.

"Certifiable," he replied, and for a moment there was an uncomfortable silence. He broke it by saying, "The shower's yours if you want one here - I don't think your boss will mind if you're a little late today."

"He better not," she replied smoothly. Their fingers and eyes met over a cup of coffee, and then they both shook off the moment and ate in relative silence. When she got up to take a shower he stopped her with a hand on her arm, turning her to face him. In response to her curious look he said, "I want to thank you."

She shook her head, foregoing the usual banal remarks. His hands slipped up her arms to her shoulders and he whispered, his voice nearly cracking, "I need you." Her eyes welled up with tears, which for once he didn't seem to mind, and she fell forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

He hugged her again when she left, in last night's clothes but smelling of his soap. She still smelled that way when she came into work in a fresh suit, and he found the reminder of their night pleasant - even though nothing had happened. "And shouldn't," he reminded himself firmly. "Definitely should not." This was growing harder and harder to remember. But they had other things to worry about today.

At the designated hour they walked down the hall together, side by side and in step, an inseparable duo for the time being. Assembling press saw them coming and greeted them both, Donna as deferentially as Josh, and it would have been harder to say which of them was prouder. But that was not the focus of the day, and the closer they got to the press room the more his chest constricted and he felt sick to his stomach. He knew, as well as did everyone else, that this could be the day and the hour that it all fell apart.

Sam was already in place, standing at the back of the room; with surprise Josh registered the presence of Ainsley Hayes beside him. He'd always sensed some connection between the two despite their constant bickering over policy, but it was interesting to see her by his side on this kind of occasion. What was even more interesting, as Donna observantly pointed out a moment later, was that Sam had a death grip on Ainsley's hand. As the time approached and the press corps started to get fidgety, Ainsley leaned in to whisper something to Sam and he bent down to hear her, releasing her hand to slide his arm around her waist instead and draw her closer. The casual intimacy of the gesture was highly suggestive, and Josh filed that as something to ask Sam about later. Assuming they weren't too busy saving their boss's job, and their own.

C.J. was shaky. Probably no one but Josh and Sam - and possibly Danny Concannon, who looked worried - would have caught it, but she was clearly in a bad way. As she introduced the President, Donna's hand slipped into Josh's and her fingers intertwined with his. Careless of who might see he tightened his grip, breathing in her support and yes, love, grateful for her presence always beside him. At the front of the room their boss took the podium to applause from the press corps. As C.J. stepped aside her eyes lit on something in the back and her face grew, if possible, slightly sadder. Josh knew without turning to look that the First Lady was behind him. His eyes burned, he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, and he squeezed Donna's hand almost painfully before releasing it and pulling her into the circle of his arm. At the front of the room their boss looked up and began to speak. "As most of you have probably heard, there are rumors going around that I have been keeping a secret from you, and from the American people. I am here to put those rumors to rest." He took a deep breath and continued, his voice growing stronger after an almost unnoticeable tremor. "Eight years ago, I was diagnosed with a case of relapsing/remitting multiple sclerosis..."

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

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