Hail to the First Lady

by:SheilaVR

Pairing(s):Jed/Abbey
Rating: YTEEN
Disclaimer: This is an original short story spawned by the imagination of SheilaVR, based upon the creation of Aaron Sorkin, with the obligatory nod to Warner Brothers Television and NBC. No copyright infringement is actually intended, but no threat of same will stop me from fantasizing about "The West Wing" anyway...
Summary: Never, ever come between Jed Bartlet and his wife.

The click of the door's latch sounded strangely loud in the silence.

The President still stood a few paces off, saying nothing. This was his wife's call.

She promptly made a show of relaxing, as if all preceding events had never happened. "Well! It feels good to sit down, doesn't it? Enjoy your drink, Lawrence. There's more if you want it." A calculating pause. "Why don't you join us, Jed?"

Lawrence stiffened, his eyes staring again.

Bartlet brought his own considerable skill at personal relations into play, spiced with his usual good humor. "That okay with you, Larry? I promise I'll behave myself from now on." And he waited for
permission. This was a lark: the President of the United States requiring an invitation to be seated - and in his own suite, too.

The young man hesitated, got a reassuring nod from the First Lady, then slowly nodded as well. And scooted his chair a few extra inches further away, as Bartlet took a seat across the table and tried to
act as non-threatening as possible.

"Thanks." He leaned back and had a sip of his own drink. So did his wife. And so, after a long pause, did Lawrence.

Again, Abbey set the tone. Doctor's degree aside, she had an uncanny sense of how to reach people, and how to earn their trust. "Well, Jed?"

Her husband moved only his eyes. He could just see what was coming.

Lawrence turned to watch him, still wary of any further violence.

She smiled pointedly. "Aren't you going to apologize?"

The President flashed a knowing grin of his own, then grew more serious. Lawrence looked like a rabbit about to bolt.

"Of course I am. Larry, I owe you an apology at the least, and probably a new sweater in the bargain."

The young man looked down at his rumpled pullover for the first time. Tugged it into slightly better shape. "I think it's all right."

"Good. I didn't really want to damage it." Pause. "Look, Larry, I
want you to know that I'm not mad at you anymore. Okay? That's a promise."

Lawrence thought about it, until more of the apprehension finally faded. "Okay."

"That's great." Bartlet paused, searching for a simple enough explanation. "I was just really worried about my wife for a moment there."

"You were?" Their guest looked puzzled. And stared at Abbey in concern. "Why?"

She smiled at both of them, for almost the same reason. "Lawrence,
you do understand why we have security around here, right?"

He looked even more puzzled. "Security? Why?"

"Because," the President persevered gamely, "the last time we had an unexpected visitor, he wasn't a friend."

Lawrence's face was a study in incomprehension. "*I'm* a friend."

"I know that now. But I *didn't* know it before. And I didn't want anything to happen to my wife. When I heard that someone had just... dropped by, I was afraid that it might be someone who's *not* a friend."

Abbey put a hand over her eyes, her smile widening.

Lawrence turned to her. "I'd never hurt you."

She reached over and took his hand. "We know. And we're glad you dropped by." Her quick glance sideways dared her husband to
contradict that statement.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you certainly livened up our evening. Say, how did you get in here?" Struggling to keep the urgency out of his tone. This was information the Secret Service needed badly,
Lawrence's established harmlessness notwithstanding.

The young man livened up with boyish pleasure. "Oh, I climbed up the drainpipe."

President and First Lady traded stares of amazement. "The drainpipe," Abbey repeated, trying not to stifle her new friend's revelation with her own wonder.

"Yeah! I used to do that all the time at home. I lived upstairs
there, too, and we had a drainpipe a lot like yours. Only yours doesn't sway as much as ours did. You see, that way I could sneak out whenever I wanted to look at the stars. My parents didn't like me being out late at night, but I love to look at the stars." His words tumbled out excitedly. "And when I heard you were coming to town, I really, really wanted to say hello. So, I walked around the block until I saw you in the window, and then I walked across the lawn and
... climbed up." As nonchalant as could be. "Good thing your window was open, huh? I always left mine open, too."

Abbey's mouth twitched. "Yeah, good thing."

Bartlet choked down a laugh of incredulity that anyone could stroll through a Secret Service perimeter, shinny two extra-tall stories straight up and climb through a window into the presidential suite just like that, *and* without any understanding at all of the considerable danger he himself was in the whole time.

No less aware of these circumstances, the First Lady chose not to dwell on them now. "I must say," she said at last, her tone forcibly cheerful, "I'm very impressed. You're quite an acrobat." Pause. "So, now that we're all here, what is it you wanted to say?"

The familiar confusion crossed their guest's youthful face once
again. "I... wanted to tell you that I wanted to say hello." As if that wasn't self-evident.

The best part of all of this was that he hadn't even glanced at the President when he unveiled that master plan.

"Me?" Abbey could hardly believe it herself.

"Yeah. Of course." As natural as could be. It *was*, after all, an honor to meet her.

"Absolutely!" Bartlet agreed at once, startling her anew. "Why spend time on a President when you can speak to the First Lady? Right, Larry?"

That wasn't *quite* sarcasm; besides, clearly Lawrence wouldn't have recognized it as a joke anyway. In fact, he looked pleased that someone else understood how he felt.

"Yeah. I've really wanted to say hello."

For another moment Abbey was decidedly nonplussed. Her husband's
smirk indicated he was enjoying this to the hilt. A small payback for his "apology" earlier.

"Well," she managed after a moment, "I'm glad you did say hello. Otherwise we wouldn't have met you." And scrabbled for further conversation. "Uh, you live here in New York?"

"Yeah, at the Elmwood Shelter. It's not too far away, and I like to walk. Hey, did you know that it used to be an old jail? The bars are still on the windows. Neat, huh?"

She couldn't quite hide the flash of pain. The President nodded solemnly in full agreement, all humor gone. This was the side of life that most political leaders rarely saw. Didn't *want* to see. It
could make a person feel decidedly helpless to improve the world.

Oblivious of their joint reaction, Lawrence went on. "Yeah, it's not bad. Except in winter, of course. Then it gets kind of cold on the south side."

Swallowing, Abbey recomposed herself. "Well, it feels rather cold out tonight. Why don't you stay here for a while? We can take you home tomorrow. Sound good?"

He exhibited mild surprise. Probably he'd never been offered any kind of assistance anytime recently and no longer knew it for what it was. "Uh... well... sure. Okay. If you want."

"I do. And that means we can talk some more."

He smiled shyly at that.

The President was on the very same wavelength as his wife. He rose. "Excuse me, Larry. I'll be right back." He went to the suite's door and stepped outside. Ron and Charlie both stood there, silently on duty and obviously relieved that he was still in one piece.

Upon his return some moments later, Bartlet just stood and listened
as Abbey and Lawrence talked quietly about nonessentials. Not until the First Lady noticed him and broke off did he advance.

"Larry, this is Ron." The security coordinator made a fair effort at being pleasant, despite what their new acquaintance had recently put him and his people through. "He works for us. He's got a room where you can sleep tonight, and he'll see to anything else you might need."

The old fear crossed that simple face.

"Take it easy. I don't like it when people are afraid of me." That
was certainly true. "And Ron doesn't, either." That was certainly *not* true, but Ron just raised a silent eyebrow, while Abbey turned aside to hide her broad smile at least a little. "Besides," the President went on grandly, "you're under the personal protection of the First Lady, you know."

This time the stoic Secret Service agent couldn't disguise his
wonder, especially when the young man's features lit up like a beacon.

"So! No hard feelings, right?" Bartlet extended his hand.

Lawrence didn't take long this time to accept; he stood and shook hands with the President. "No hard feelings," he repeated, even if he wasn't quite sure what was meant.

Abbey gave his arm in a friendly squeeze. "We've got some things to
do now, but I'll see you in the morning. Right?"

"Oh. Okay. In the morning."

"Sure. Good night, now. Sleep tight."

"Yeah!" Lawrence smiled happily down at her. "Good night, First
Lady." And turned back around. "Good night, Jed."

Their chuckles meant little to him; clearly he had no idea how else
to address either of them. And, waving, he then allowed the slightly mortified Ron to escort him out.

In the sudden silence after the door closed, husband and wife looked at each other. And sighed in unison. Exhausted by the extreme mental, emotional, and in some cases physical, calisthenics of this evening.

Bartlet spoke first. "Ron's got the whole story; he'll take care of everything. Even he doesn't want to drag the kid through the wringer."

Abbey's eyebrows lifted. "Well, well. Maybe the Secret Service can be humane after all."

He snorted. "Actually, I think they're more than happy to bend over backwards for us right now, as a sort of oblique apology for not securing the windows *or* the grounds."

"Ah; the real reason emerges. Don't want a public furore over how
well the world's elite security force does its job, do we?" She rose and moved a few steps away, gazing out through the glass. "He gave me quite a start, blithely letting himself in like that. But how can you blame someone who has no clue of right and wrong? I thought I might
as well let him sit down, in the hope that he wouldn't seem too threatening when security inevitably arrived." She sighed again.
"He's luckier to be alive than he'll ever know, never mind the laws he's broken. I guess ignorance *is* bliss."

"And then some." The President didn't move, content just to watch
her. "One of the ground patrols spotted him just as he slipped
inside. Any other moment and he'd have been either tackled or shot down." Pause. "He's also lucky I beat the Secret Service here in the first place - even though he may not think so himself."

Abbey threw an enigmatic glance over one shoulder. "So I gathered."

Enough of that particular topic. "Our guys still can't get over not spotting him sooner, but then no one in their right mind would launch such a brazen approach. Straight up a drainpipe and in plain sight, too. They're calling this a 'useful exercise'." Bartlet shook his head. He seemed to be doing that a lot this evening. "Quite a euphemism for what could all too easily have been a terrorist strike
- and a successful one."

Few others could have detected the undercurrent of alarm. His wife did. And she knew that alarm was for her. She also knew when her husband was being demonstrative... and when he was not. Sometimes, the best way to deal with such a terrifying thought was to
internalize it silently. Discussion often just wrung the nerves even tighter. All public figures had to confront this dilemma.

She bowed her head, eyes closed. "You know, I almost envy that boy. The world must seem so much simpler to him. Less confusing, less demanding, less unhappy. And a lot safer."

Quietly, "I know what you mean." None better than the President.

Silence fell.

Bartlet shifted feet. "You know, the best may be yet to come. If he goes and tells all his friends about his wonderful visit with the First Lady - never mind me - I don't know how we're going to prevent
a veritable stampede to your door." And there was no amusement in his voice at that thought.

Abbey rotated back with her own smile. "Feeling under-appreciated,
are you?" Then she waved a dismissing hand. "Don't worry; Lawrence
and I will talk it over. I should be able to do something."

"I won't be the only one to thank you." The President paused again, switching mental gears. "I passed a few things on to Charlie.
Tomorrow morning, *I'm* going to do something about that shelter. And any others I find around here."

She folded her arms. "You know, that sounds suspiciously like a vow."

"Probably because it is. We've turned a blind eye far too long. I'm considering this a very opportune wake-up call." His features softened, studying her fondly. "You were good with him. Just as well he didn't want to see me at all."

Abbey laughed. "I daresay, after the reception you gave him." And moved closer, her eyes dancing. "You're positively *dangerous*. You know that?"

He scowled, resisting their pull a bit longer. "Unannounced visitors in your vicinity bring out the worst in me." And glanced up at the ceiling in supplication. "Just wait until the word gets out. The Secret Service will think that *we* think we can do without them.
Next thing you know, we'll have a strike on our hands."

She reached up to straighten his hair. Expressing a heartfelt *Thank you* very articulately without any words at all. "Oh, I'm not worried." The collar came next. "I've got my number one protector right here." Her ministrations were finally rewarded by that rakish grin of his. The tie, now in hopeless disarray, she slid free and tossed onto the table. "And from what I saw this evening, no one can possibly be safer than I am right now."

Husband and wife shared a smile that spanned the years together. And moved into each other's arms for a heart-to-heart embrace.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

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