Author: Regency

Title: Not Like This

Pairing: Jed/CJ, Jed/Abbey

Spoilers: We are going to completely disregard this season just because well-written it may be, I don’t like where it’s headed.

Summary: When Abbey sees something unforgettable, can she believe her husband when he says it isn’t true.

Author’s Notes: By the way, Jed’s drunk in the first part, so he might be a little unintelligible.

Disclaimer: Sorkin owns everyone in this story.

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He needed someone. He was lonely. That much was easy to see. She stuck around awhile, just to keep an eye on him. She hadn't meant to stay so late. Or so long.

It was 3 AM before she even looked up from her desk. She should have been home hours ago. She rose to leave, but something coaxed her to the Oval. Charlie was long gone. It was just he and the agents. She wondered how many shifts had changed while they both sat there, pretending to work. She wouldn't ask. She didn't need a mirror to hold herself up to.

She knocked on the door gently. There was no response. She knocked again, beginning to worry. She pushed the door open. He was awake, kind of. He was sitting on the couch; staring at the floor, drink in hand. His expression was glassy, at best. His shoulders were slumped, head resting on his free hand. He barely reacted to her presence.

"Mr. President, are you all right" It felt like a stupid question as soon as it reached her ears. His eyes met hers.

"My life's bad, Claudia Jean." She took a few cautious steps closer and sat down beside him. She tried to extricate his glass from his hand, but he wasn't having it. "Nope, this is the best thing I got going right now. And you can't take it away." She nodded placatingly.

"What's wrong, sir" He looked at her, his eyes showing such a vulnerability that she had to restrain the instinct to take him into her arms.

"My daughters 're hurting, 'cause of me. My wife's screwing my best friend and I don't think I'm doing too good these days." She was taken aback by his odd slur and the accusations that came with it.

"What are you talking about"

"Liz is pissed at me, 'cause I wouldn't endorse Doug, who's stupider than Josh on Amy. I couldn't do that to my state. I wasn't gonna let that moron get a hold of it. Ellie's bein' attacked for doing what she loves to do, just because she's my daughter. And Zoey. Oh, those people hurt my baby. They hurt my little girl and it's all my fault. I couldn't even be there for her in Manchester, 'cause Abbey told me not to come; that Zoey di'nt need me. She did need me. She still needs me, but it's too late. I wasn't there when it counted. She needed me and I let her down." CJ shifted in her seat, well aware that this was mine-ridden territory she was about to venture into.

"That's was your wife's decision and it was wrong, plain and simple. She wanted to get away from you and she took your child with her. Even if she needed you, Abbey couldn't escape with you there. So, she asked you to stay away. She made the right choice for her and the wrong one for your daughter. That isn't your fault." His eyes peered at her sadly.

"It's not a matter of fault in parenthood, Claudia Jean. You're either there when you should be or you aren't. The children rarely distinguish." He sighed and sat his drink on the end table. He tried to stand, but managed to stumble until she jumped up to stabilize him. He leaned on her. "Abbey's cheating on me with Leo." CJ wrapped his arm around her waist. They were going to the Residence. She was putting him to bed.

"I don't think that's true."

"Well, you're wrong. He made her squiggle. Only I'm supposed to be able to do that." CJ had no idea what that was and it must have shown. "It means squeal, giggle, and squirm. I heard the squeal and giggle, but I wasn't in the room, so I don't know what else was going on."

"Maybe there was no squirming." He laughed bitterly.

"Two out of three ain't bad. But it sure as hell ain't good either. She spends so much of her time at the clinic now. I don't think she's even there all the time. I think she's with him." He sniffled a little as they come into contact with the cool night air. "I really thought we were going to be okay when she came back. But now, I don't even think she came back for me. I think she came back for him. It hurts, Claudia Jean. I love her like nothing else in the world and she betrays me that way. Payback's a bitch, ain't it" She nodded, trying to maneuver them to the door of the mansion while staying out of the lights of the West Wing. The last thing she would need the next morning was a question about why the President seemed intoxicated and why she was escorting him to the Residence in a seemingly intimate embrace. Life was hard enough as it was.

The Secret Service Agents opened the door with impassive expressions as they stumbled in, the President still babbling softly. She had to get him into bed. Surely, this nonsense would fade in the morning.

They stepped onto the floor where the bedroom was. The agents at the door only looked at her momentarily before opening the double doors. They stepped in; the doors closed behind them. He was still babbling, more like mumbling.

"Mr. President, we need to get you into bed. You need to sleep this off with the recommendation that you never get this drunk again. I might not be there to escort you home next time. You might get taken advantage of." He stared at her for a moment, before falling backwards onto the bed, with a barking laugh. She's sure that it wasn't that funny. It turned from barking to hysterical. Now, she's officially concerned.

She sat down beside him and reached out to stroke his hair away from his forehead, clandestinely checking his temperature. He felt warmer than she thought was healthy. He rested his hand on top of hers lightly. She felt a niggling obligation to call Abbey, but realized that she was probably the last face he wanted or needed to see right then. She'd have to take care of him.

"Mr. President, we need to get you undressed and dressed for bed. I need you to tell me where you keep your pajamas." He looked at her blankly. "Sir, where do you keep your pajamas" His head jerked as he looked around the room.

"They're in…the closet." CJ stood and starting walking towards the bathroom. She hadn't been in the First Bedroom very often. He tugged her back by her hand. "No, that's the bathroom. The other door." She 'ahh'd and changed course.

"What kind do you normally wear" He was lying on the bed looking at the ceiling intently. He blinked and was back.

"I wear a t-shirt and sweats. They're more comfy than pajamas." She nodded and tried to shake off the little smirk at the President of The United States saying 'comfy.' It wasn't going anywhere. It was cute.

She found the preferred attire and returned to the bedroom. "Do you think you can get these on by yourself or do you need help" He pushed himself up.

"I have a doctorate in Economics, for which I won the Nobel Prize, by the way. I've raised three daughters-” She smirked at the stall tactic.

"Do you need help, Mr. President" He pouted at not being allowed to finish listing his multitude of accolades. He shrugged a bit and tried to stand, falling backwards all over again.

"Just a little bit." Just a little bit, turned into just a lot of bit. He was in and out of sobriety throughout the ordeal. He tried to help, but ended up just getting her tangled in him and his clothes. She did laugh though. They both did. It was a tension breaker.

She fell across the bed next to him and took a breather. He was finally dressed. She wondered what time it was, but was too tired to look at her watch. She turned to peruse him and found that an air of sadness still hung about him. She'd have given anything to make it go away. Her hands reached up and stroked the dark crown of hair on his head. He murmured, but otherwise didn't react. His hair was soft to the touch. It slid through her fingers like silk, tickling the webbed flesh between them. He turned his head in his haze, pressing into her hands. She hushed his restlessness with a stroke of her finger across his jaw. He eased back into sleep.

She rested on her elbow, one hand remaining buried in his hair. His sadness was present still.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I know how much you love her and your daughters. I wish I could make this all right for you, but this isn't my place much less my fight. Sleep well, Mr. President." She rose to leave, but the loss of her hand in his hair woke him abruptly.

"Please don't go. Please don't leave me by myself." It was the fear in his voice that stopped her. At first, she didn't even contemplate the possibility. There was no way she could spend the night in the Residence. No way. That was until she turned around and looked into his eyes. They seemed so child-like, so innocent. He didn't want to be abandoned and she didn't want to abandon him. She worried her bottom lip, looking skittishly at the door. She should go, but...he did have a fever and it would be hours before the First Lady returned. She took off her jacket. When the President says jump...

"I guess I'm staying." His eyes brightened. She smiled at him and sat back down beside him. She could only imagine the problems that she was going to be facing in the morning, they were going to be facing. She hoped a good night's sleep was worth it.

"Do you want something to wear" She blinked at him.

"What"

"Do you want something to wear? You can't be expected to sleep in that. It isn't practical. Go to the closet and find something. I don't think you can wear any of Abbey's things, but mine should be nearly fine. Go" She was up before anything he said really registered with her.

She rifled through his things, wondering what exactly would be considered appropriate for sharing a bedroom with the President of the United States when you weren't his wife or his mistress. She picked a particularly long-ish looking shirt and stuck her head out of the closet.

"Can I wear this one" He looked at her through bleary eyes.

"Yeah, that one's fine." He yawned and fell back on his back, staring at the ceiling. She wasn't convinced that he wasn't asleep with his eyes open. She slipped out the closet quietly, hoping he wouldn't look at her. She sat her clothes on the chair beside the bed and sat gingerly on the edge. She peeked over her shoulder; his eyes were on her with a keen interest within. She gave a stern look. There would be no funny stuff of any sort tonight. He nodded solemnly.

She realized that unless there was an extra cover about, they'd have to change positions or at the very least get off the bed for a minute.

"Sir, unless you've got an extra blanket around here, we're gonna have to get up." He groaned in frustration and fatigue. He rolled over and pushed himself up. She turned down the covers and guided him to his side of the bed. He plopped down and looked up at her in his shirt. It gave him interesting thoughts. She threw an eyebrow up at him. "I'm watching you, Mr...President." He looked at her under long eyelashes. He wasn't going to try anything. He was a good boy. Most of the time, anyway.

With her help, he swung his legs up onto the bed and she pulled she sheets up to his chest. She walked around to the other side and sat down. He looked at her. It occurred to her that she would be sleeping on Abbey's side of the bed. It felt strange, but for some reason, she was still about to do it. She slid her legs under the comforter. She turned on her side and looked at him. He looked at her.

"Go back to sleep." He looked at her defiantly.

"I'm not tired." She reached out and stroked his hair. He closed his eyes reluctantly. When he seemed to have a hard time reaching sleep completely, she shimmied a bit closer, letting a hand rest on his chest. His hand came up and took hers, squeezing it for dear life. She wouldn't leave him alone. She pressed a kiss to his temple. He mumbled like an errant child, but remained still. Her head rested against his on his pillow. She wouldn't go to sleep. She needed to be out before Abbey got back. He got up at around six anyway. Her eyes closed and she didn't feel herself fall asleep.

The hours went by unnoticed by either of them, both experiencing the best night of sleep they had in months. 6 o'clock came and went. As did 7o'clock, then 8. Neither of them heard the First Lady's detail precede her up the steps. The agents who'd been posted at the door the previous evening were on the way out, but not before sharing a look about what pyrotechnics were about to occur. The doors opened...

Abbey stood there. "What the hell is going on" Her bellow roused CJ immediately. She sat up and the President began to wake. She immediately shushed him back to sleep, only semi-aware of Abbey's presence. With him calmed, CJ rubbed her eyes and blinked at the sight before her. Abbey stood, breathing hard, eyes dark, cheeks flushed.

CJ looked at herself and the President. It didn't look nearly as innocent as it really was. Damn. She said the first thing that came to mind.

"He has a fever." It sounded lame even to her own ears.

"I bet." Abbey was trying to not maim and kill people. Of all the things she expected of her husband, infidelity was not something that had ever crossed her mind. With CJ...That was the ultimate betrayal and she knew a bit about that, didn't she?

"No, a real one. He was sick last night, out of it. He was suffering from a dementia of sorts." She pushed the covers back and stood, forgetting that she was wearing one of the President's own shirts that reached just below high thigh. Abbey looked like she might strangle her. CJ crossed her arms over her chest." I found him in the Oval around 3 AM. He was talking about some stuff and drinking."

"Sounds like he was drunk."

"Maybe, but when I got him up here, he had a fever."

"Why didn't you call me"

"I didn't think you wanted to be disturbed." Boy, she was digging her grave with a big, old CAT tractor. She couldn't exactly tell her the truth. Your husband thinks that you don't love him and that you're screwing around on him with his best friend. CJ didn't think she'd appreciate that.

"My husband falls ill and you think I don't want to be disturbed. CJ, if you don't want me to kick your ass right now, you'd better come up with something better than that." CJ felt vulnerable wearing just his shirt right then.

"He was having a hard time. He was sad, lonely. He was hurting and I didn't know what to do. I was going to leave, but he asked me to stay. I'm not even supposed to be here right now. I was supposed to leave around 6 this morning. We weren't supposed to run into each other, because I knew you'd see this scene and think the worst." Abbey crossed her arms in mirror to CJ.

"What else am I supposed to think, Claudia Jean? I come from the night shift, expecting to crawl into bed next to my husband and instead, I see one of my best friends sleeping beside him in my place." She turned her eyes to her slumbering spouse. He mumbled in his sleep and turned on his side.

CJ knew that she shouldn't, but she shuffled to his side and whispered something into his ear.

"Shh, go back to sleep now." She stroked his jaw and he mumbled a sleepy declaration of love. CJ nodded caringly and kissed his brow. She didn't dare look at Abbey. "He doesn't need to be awake for this. This is all a big misunderstanding." CJ couldn't see Abbey's eyes as she watched her comfort her husband.

"I'm sure. How long has this been going on" CJ looked over her shoulder at Abbey.

"It hasn't been going on. There's nothing going on now. We just..."

"Slept together. I see that."

"No, Abbey. You really don't. You weren't here last night. You didn't see how much pain he was in. And you know, most of it's your fault, anyway. If you really want to blame what you think you see on anyone, blame it on yourself. Yes, I slept with your husband, but I didn't have sex with your husband. He needed someone to just be with him and I was there. I was there. You weren't." She gently stroked his jaw again before giving him a parting kiss on the forehead. She gathered her clothes and walked into the closet to change. Abbey stared after her. She looked back to her snoozing hubby. She thought about waking him, but if CJ was being honest, it was only a misunderstanding. Did he really need to lose sleep over a misunderstanding?

She sighed and walked over to his side of the bed. When had their life together become so filled with this ugliness? Why couldn't she believe that he hadn't given something so precious to CJ as he had to her? Why couldn't she believe that he hadn't given himself?

Before she knew what she was doing, she jostled his shoulder and he mumbled in protest, eyes morning blue.

"Jed" He blinked at her, seemingly surprised to see her.

"What're you doing here, Abbey" Most of her name was swallowed in a yawn. "Aren't you s'pposed to be at the clinic" He looked idly over his shoulder to where CJ should have been laying. Abbey followed his eyes. She'd slept on her side.

"I was. It's after 8, gumdrop. I came home." He nodded.

"Okay."

"Jed, why was CJ with you" He looked up at her. He thought she'd left earlier in the morning. Abbey had seen her. He dropped back against the pillow. This was one more problem he didn't need to have. Especially with Abbey. "Jed" Her tone was expectant. CJ chose that moment to make her exit from the closet. She started walking for the ajarred doors, stopping only for a moment to look at the President.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Claudia Jean. Enjoy the rest of your weekend." She smiled until she felt Abbey's eyes on her and it fell.

"You too, sir." She turned to leave the room. "If that's at all possible." She hightailed it out of there before either of the others could comment. There was complete silence.

"You didn't answer my question." He sat back up and gestured for her to go on. "Why was CJ with you, in bed" He sighed again. Why was it that the truth was always the answer they wouldn't believe"Well"

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