Fic: Forty-six (West Wing, 1/1)
Title: Forty-six.
Fandom: The West Wing
Character: Abigail Bartlet, Zoey Bartlet
Table: #5
Prompt: #73. Bed
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She is still angry with Jed, but she wants him in bed next to her.
Table O' Fic
Abbey has grown used to sleeping alone, but she doesn't like it. She's never liked it. Husbands and wives are not meant to sleep apart. She grew used to it during Jed's time as a congressman and knows that he had grown used to it when she was at medical school.
It is different now. They are sleeping in separate beds not out of necessity; Abbey has chosen to stay away.
She is still angry, but time has begun to heal the wounds and she is beginning to miss him. The curtains have been left open and moonlight spills onto the empty half of the bed, as if to remind Abbey of her husband's absence. She rolls onto her back, as if looking at the ceiling will help her fall asleep.
How many nights have she and Jed curled together in this bed, talking of their hopes and dreams for the future? She does not know; too many to count. Yet she knows exactly how many nights she has lain awake alone, too wound up to sleep.
Forty-six.
Forty-six nights since she took her youngest daughter and walked out of the White House. Forty-six nights since she spoke to her husband. Forty-six nights spent wishing that she could wake up to find this all just a bad dream.
She is still angry with Jed, but she wants him in bed next to her. She wants to hear him breathing beside her; wants to feel the warmth of his body against hers, the weight of his arm across her waist. She is still angry, but he is her husband and she needs him even now. Especially now.
She wonders if Jed lies awake wishing his bed wasn't empty. More likely he spends as much time in the office as possible, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. He's probably pushing himself to the limit, and Abbey can't help but worry at the implications of that. Two words haunt her - multiple sclerosis - and she feels guilty that he is alone.
It is in these moments that she is tempted to call to find out how he is, but she is afraid her tongue will get the better of her, afraid of saying, "I told you so." Afraid of what Jed will say in return.
She has never been scared to talk to her husband, and what frightens her most of all is that her marriage is dying and she doesn't know how to fix it.
If it can be fixed.
The bedroom door creaks open and Zoey appears in the gap. "I had a nightmare," she says, and it is twenty years earlier when the toddler crept into her parents' bed every chance she got.
Zoey climbs into Jed's side of the bed and cuddles closer to her mother. Abbey watches her sleep; she does not look at rest.
Abbey's heart breaks all over again.
She is angry with God, too, but that doesn't stop her from praying for her baby girl.
Fandom: The West Wing
Character: Abigail Bartlet, Zoey Bartlet
Table: #5
Prompt: #73. Bed
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She is still angry with Jed, but she wants him in bed next to her.
Table O' Fic
Abbey has grown used to sleeping alone, but she doesn't like it. She's never liked it. Husbands and wives are not meant to sleep apart. She grew used to it during Jed's time as a congressman and knows that he had grown used to it when she was at medical school.
It is different now. They are sleeping in separate beds not out of necessity; Abbey has chosen to stay away.
She is still angry, but time has begun to heal the wounds and she is beginning to miss him. The curtains have been left open and moonlight spills onto the empty half of the bed, as if to remind Abbey of her husband's absence. She rolls onto her back, as if looking at the ceiling will help her fall asleep.
How many nights have she and Jed curled together in this bed, talking of their hopes and dreams for the future? She does not know; too many to count. Yet she knows exactly how many nights she has lain awake alone, too wound up to sleep.
Forty-six.
Forty-six nights since she took her youngest daughter and walked out of the White House. Forty-six nights since she spoke to her husband. Forty-six nights spent wishing that she could wake up to find this all just a bad dream.
She is still angry with Jed, but she wants him in bed next to her. She wants to hear him breathing beside her; wants to feel the warmth of his body against hers, the weight of his arm across her waist. She is still angry, but he is her husband and she needs him even now. Especially now.
She wonders if Jed lies awake wishing his bed wasn't empty. More likely he spends as much time in the office as possible, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. He's probably pushing himself to the limit, and Abbey can't help but worry at the implications of that. Two words haunt her - multiple sclerosis - and she feels guilty that he is alone.
It is in these moments that she is tempted to call to find out how he is, but she is afraid her tongue will get the better of her, afraid of saying, "I told you so." Afraid of what Jed will say in return.
She has never been scared to talk to her husband, and what frightens her most of all is that her marriage is dying and she doesn't know how to fix it.
If it can be fixed.
The bedroom door creaks open and Zoey appears in the gap. "I had a nightmare," she says, and it is twenty years earlier when the toddler crept into her parents' bed every chance she got.
Zoey climbs into Jed's side of the bed and cuddles closer to her mother. Abbey watches her sleep; she does not look at rest.
Abbey's heart breaks all over again.
She is angry with God, too, but that doesn't stop her from praying for her baby girl.