Author: Regency

Title: Un Corazon: God Only Knows

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Jed/Abbey

Season/Spoilers/Sequel: Season seven; none; this is a sequel to Dos Aviones - Right Hand Man. There is a second part.

Summary: Agent Mann's words ring in her ears: From there, how the day ends is in your hands. It's in her hands and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't understand.

Author's Notes: I meant for this to be the end, but it didn't happen that way. So, I guess this will be a trilogy.

Disclaimer: I only own Secret Agent Mann

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Josiah Rising

She stares at him from her end of the carpet. She is paralyzed. Agent Mann's words ring in her ears: From there, how the day ends is in your hands. It's in her hands and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't understand. She looks down at her hands. These hands that have saved souls and saved lives. Hands that have loved and lost. Sometimes, all in the same caress. The hands that will change lives today, but she is uncertain how. She is in need of guidance. She looks to her right and blinks. It's him; Secret Agent Mann. His eyes are hidden behind shades, but she can feel him watching her.

From there, how the day ends is in your hands. His words mock her where she stands, afraid of the man she is so desperate to hold onto. Unconsciously, she seeks him, seeks his presence and his love. Why would he do this? Why tell her she is loved, only to leave her lonely? Why would he do this? Why is he...? She has to know.

She holds her head up high and pretends that her lightheadedness comes only from the chilling cold and not his fathomless gaze. His eyes watch her and she wonders if he is as afraid as she. Does he fear the parting he has invoked? The loneliness that surely awaits him in the air? Does his heart pound painfully against his ribcage in retort to hers that dares break? Does he wish to touch her, kiss her just once more? She doesn't know. She wants to know. She needs to know.

Before she fully realizes what's happening, she finds herself moving towards him. It's not a conscious choice of mind, but one her soul makes for her in its impatience. She can't be stopped. She doesn't want to be. His souls calls for her like a siren to the rocks. Will she crash? She doesn't know nor does she care. He calls for her. She goes to him.

She stops only inches away from being able to reach out and touch him. He is too far to touch, but not too far to feel. She can taste him in the air. He is everything. He is all she sees. She doesn't hear the camera flashes anymore. He has captivated her all over again. Her chest is tight; his scent feels her nostrils. Her skin burns with his heat. Her fingertips tingle with the desire to press themselves against the clothed flesh they know so well. She is mesmerized.

It's far too silent. No one moves, no one breathes. A spell has been cast and none wish it dissipated. There is far too much to see. She licks her parched lips and clasps her hands in front of her. Her eyes drop from his, back to her hands. In your hands. She takes another step. They're nearly toe to toe now. She can look into his eyes. She does.

Where are you going?

Away...

From me?

Never...

Then, why? His eyes flit away from hers. What's wrong? He makes a vague shrugging movement. Don't say nothing. Something's wrong. What is it?

No, you aren't. What. Is. Wrong? He sighs. He's getting frustrated. So is she.

She wants to touch him, but not with these people watching. They'd don't get to see this. This is for them. Only for them. Talk to me. He puts his hand out.

Come with me. She doesn't hesitate to take it. She'd follow him to hell, though she is hoping not to have to. They walk up the staircase onto his plane. It's nice. Not nearly as nice as Air Force One, but that's alright. He's here. That's all she cares about. He takes her from the door, to another staircase. They rise. There's an apartment here too. A bedroom. He leads her in and closes the door behind him. They're alone. She turns around and waits.

"You look beautiful, Abigail." She gives her gown a cursory look and rakes her finger through her upped curls. A fine time to say such a thing, she thinks.

"You look handsome." He adjusts his jacket and nods. Why won't he speak? He looks at her under low lids. He licks his lips and stuffs his hands into his pockets. She feels lightheaded. "Why did you bring me here?" He sighs.

"You have questions. You want answers. Ask your questions." She blinks at his frankness. She expected him to beat around the bush a little. Okay. Now, she isn't so sure she wants to have this conversation.

"Don't I have a plane to catch?" He looks absently at his watch as she does the same.

"Don't worry. We're hours ahead of schedule. They can wait awhile." It's too late for not worrying. The time for that was before their talk this morning. She puts down her purse and moves around a bit. She can't look at him right now. It distracts her. Her moving is making him dizzy, so he sits and watches her walk about. "Abigail, either sit down or stand still, but for the love of God, quit pacing like a prisoner headed for execution." What an appropriate euphemism.

"Sorry," she mumbles. This isn't exactly something they do everyday. She takes a fortifying breath. It's now or never... Never sounds good. "Why are you leaving?"

"Because it's best." She raises an eyebrow and stands defensively by the door.

"Best for who? You? Me? The girls? Who exactly is it best for?" He can't meet her gaze and looks over her right shoulder silently. She wonders if he even knows the answer to her question. "Well?"

"I don't have an answer for you."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand." She groans in frustration.

"You keep saying that, but you refuse to let me understand. Tell me. Give me something to tell the girls when they ask where you are, why you left. Don't you think we deserve that? At the very least, don't they deserved that consideration?"

"They do."

"Then, please, give me something to tell them so that they don't think you've abandoned this family for your Louisiana Hussy like I'm starting to think you have." She's on a roll and she's hurting. "I can't believe I thought you ever loved me at all. I was convinced that you loved me; in good times and in bad for the past nearly forty years. What a fool I've been. I bet her granddaughter is your granddaughter too. She probably even carries your name, because you're Josiah Bartlet and you'd never deny your child or your grandchild their birthright. You betrayed me, us, for all those years. I thought I was the only one to give you chills." Her eyes are glassy with tears.

"You are." The door is opened, she's backing away from him as he comes towards her.

"You betrayed me." He shakes his head to compound his words. He still walks towards her. He sees the staircase coming and keeps an eye out. He knows he'll have to catch her before she falls.

"I never did." Her heels slips beyond the top step and he sees her start to fall. Faster than her ever thought he could, he steps forward and spins her back into his arms. The motion costs him his balance and he lands on the floor with her still secure in his arms. That's the straw that broke the camel's back. She sobs softly into his shoulder. She tries to escape his arms. He won't let go. Sobs wrack her small frame and she slams her fists into his chest in grief-stricken rage.

"You left me. You left our children. You never loved me. You never loved our girls. I was just your…thing." The sound of her pain breaks his heart. It must filter down below as he sees two agents coming up the stairs. He shakes his head. Everything's all right. Well, as all right as it can be. They nod and retreat down the steps.

Abbey is silent in his arms, except for the occasional hiccup. She sniffles, but stays still with her head against his chest. "What's wrong with your heart?" He looks down at her, wondering how she knows. He then, remembers that she's board-certified in Thoracic Surgery and Internal Medicine. Of course, she knows. He shrugs and tries to stand. She isn't having it. Her arms are around his waist and she's a lot stronger than she looks. She just listens, silently counting the beats of his heart. "Josiah, what's wrong with your heart?" She's as imposing as she can be while flushed with a red nose and puffy eyes. That's pretty damned imposing. He shrugs nonchalantly. "I don't know who you think you married, Jed, but you married me and I happen to know a thing or two about the human heart. You have an irregular heartbeat." He doesn't meet her eyes. She doesn’t know that that's the least of his health issues at the moment.

She reaches up and turns his chin so that their eyes meet. "Talk to me."

"You said it, I have an irregular heartbeat. There it is." She's skeptical. It doesn't take much searching to know that he's attempting to hide within himself. He's hiding from her.

"That's not all though, is it? There's more, isn't there? What ?" He still refuses to hold her gaze.

"Can you stand?" She nods, but doesn't appear eager to do so. He pulls her up. Their eyes lock. She sees the fear he's trying so desperately to quell. He's never fooled her as well as he fools himself. He lets her go and walks back to the bedroom, knowing that she will follow. She does. The door is closed behind them. It's just the two of them again. He takes off his jacket and bowtie, unbuttoning his top two buttons. He's wearing suspenders. "Do you want a drink? Scotch, water, maybe?"

"Water, please." She watches him pour it into a glass and hands it to her. She holds it in her hands and watches as he pours himself a shot of scotch. She wonders if his doctors would approve. She knows that she doesn't. But, of course, she isn't his doctor anymore. She's just his wife and that's beginning to seem like a temporary state.

"God only knows, "she hears him say. She doesn't understand what he means.

"What?" He looks surprised as though he didn't realize that he'd spoken aloud. "What does God only know?" He looks both ways for a quick save. He comes to realization and stands straight, looking at her as though he's got a plan.

"God only knows...the differences between men and women. It's simple, really. No, no, it's oceans deep. His touch is her caress. Her valleys to his peaks. His heights to her depths . She is soft and pliable where he is hard and unyielding." He comes towards her and she steps back, her water still in hand. His eyes are dark with intent. But intent to do what? She already knows. "She is all dips, depths, valleys, and vacation spots. Women, men dream of with dopey smiles on their faces. They ache to possess these beautiful creatures, but they will have none of it. Any undesired touch is rebuffed, any unwanted overture is ignored. These women don't need us, not men. They do fine for themselves and each other. That doesn't mean that occasionally they don't want us." She's trapped against the wall. She can just hear the workings of the plane behind the wall. It rumbles at her back. He's so close. He cups her cheek, stroking his thumb across her lips. She kisses the pad of his thumb. Looking into his eyes, she takes his thumb into her mouth. Sucking gently, she runs her tongue across the tip of his thumb. "Do you know how it starts? Do you know how she seduces him...how she makes herself all that he wants? Do you know what she does so that, he'd throw everything he ever had away for just one night inside her...arms." She gasps at his near faux pas. He isn't embarrassed. He knows what he did. "Do you know?" She shakes her head, all previous questions forgotten. He traces her décolletage gently, stopping when he reaches the bodice of her dress. She perspires. Her scent fills the air. He brushes his lips against her windpipe and glides his mouth to her collarbone. He scrapes his teeth against the sensitive bone and she shutters at the simple pleasure. She pushes her chest forth and he slides a hand up her side to bring her closer still. He nuzzles the exposed swell of her breasts. Her eyes close and her breath catches.

"She walks by in her everyday clothes, leaving him with little more than a coy glance and a parting shot over her shoulder. Her gait is normal, the motion of her hips is lethal. She stretches and shows a beautiful expanse of flesh that leaves all men adoring and prepared to beg at her feet. She makes sure they dream of her. She licks her lips and peers out at him from under her bangs and long eyelashes. She worries her bottom lip and shifts in her seat, causing her skirt to rise. She recrosses her legs and gives a supposed glance of the paradise he dreams of. The room heats up when she arrives; she unbuttons one button on her silk blouse, then another. It's never obscene, always tasteful, elegant. She gives just a peek at the beloved lace hidden beneath. When she speaks, he listens, her lips captivating him, tempting him. He rises with her. He watches her face, but his eyes drift to the now clear cleavage below. She breathes deep. He steps closer. His restraint is waning. That's exactly what she wants." Abbey opens her eyes. They are dark, equally dangerous to that something inside of his.

"Is it?" He steps away, tempting her to follow. She follows. She's in far too deep to stop.

"I think so...She loosens another button. She can feel him looking there. Then another. He licks his lip, his hands held at his sides by sheer will alone. One of her bra straps slip off of her shoulder. The bare skin calls to him. He yearns for her. She can read his desire and turns to leave, rebuttoning her blouse and adjusting her bra. She says she'll see him later. He knows it's true. She always does. It's late night when she returns. Her hair is still flawless, her makeup, the same. She's changed, though. She's dressed to seduce, to seduce him. She wears a black trench coat. She looks at him, closing the door behind her. He can hear the lock engage. She's coy, but she isn't playing. Do you know what she does, then?" Abbey shakes her head. She doesn't care. "She lets the coat fall to the floor. All she wears now, is a pair of heels and a thigh-length negligee. He can't move. She walks to him, behind his desk. She's all he sees...Just like you." Catching her hand by tips of her fingers, he pulls her close. He cradles her face in his hands and kisses the corner of her mouth. His tongue traces the seam of her lips, parting them gently. Their mouths mesh together, their tongues engaged in a dance that is so familiar that neither is truly aware of it. He ends the kiss prematurely, pulling back, but returning to tease her swollen lips with feather-light kisses. She takes him in. She's possessed.

She stands before him. He holds her face, running his fingers through her curls gently. She only looks into his eyes. She steps closer and he kisses her neck, his arms snug around her. She guides his hand to her zipper and it comes down. His hands take over where her dress ceases to. She pushes it down and it pools around her feet on the floor. She steps out of the puddle of scarlet silk and kicks it to the side. No one's going to see her in it for a while. She pulls him to her by his suspenders. She kisses him firmly. He returns it with equal fervor, his hands idly stroking her unclothed back. He walks backwards to the wall, which is closer than the bed. They don't break the kiss as she pushes the suspenders off of his shoulders and starts in on his shirt. Untucking his shirt, she pushes her hands under it, stroking his back with one hand and rakes her fingers through his chest with the other.

He breaks the kiss to speak. He's retaking control. "His lips to her lips. His palms to her thighs. His mouth to her breasts. His fingers deep into her folds." His eyes never leave hers. She licks her lips, backing away with a coy look in her eyes.

"Do you want to make love to me or do you want to talk about making love to me?" He stops in his tracks, realizing that he's being led. He won't be led.

"I don't know. Maybe, I just feel like playing with you."

"Maybe, I don't want to play. Maybe, I want to fuck." He raises an eyebrow at her. She rarely uses such language.

"Well, I guess that's a shame for you. Right now, I want to play, but I guess we won't be doing anything." She bites her lip. She knows what she wants, but she wonders what games he likes to play and if she should be interested. Whether she should or shouldn't be, she is.

"I guess, I'll play your game."

"That sounds nice enough. But do you know anything about my games? I mean, my games are a little...clandestine. I love blindfolds and silk scarves. Do you like silk scarves, Abigail?" She watches him as he circles her, his eyes perusing her, predatorily.

"I can like them. I've never gotten too deep into that little world. What would you do with the scarves?" She has a feeling, but she wants that feeling confirmed. She isn't afraid, but she isn't wild about the idea of it either.

"You already know." She nods. "Do you want to play, Abbey? Do you want to play my game?" She looks at his face, reads his body language, looks for any sign of deception. There's nothing. He's coaxing her, handling her. She hates to be handled.

"Yeah, I want to play." He smiles at her enticingly. She has the feeling that she's just been handled.

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