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“You know, I’ve been thinking.” Jed began, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as the car rumbled on.
Abbey raised an eyebrow. “You? Thinking? Should I be worried?”
“Just hear me out.” Jed said. “I want to add a bowling alley to the White House.”
She attempted to stifle her laughter with a hand as she turned to the window but he continued on undeterred.
“Think about it. We could host state dinners and bowling tournaments.”
“You’re incorrigible, Jed.” She sighed.
She knew this gambit; it always meant that herself, and whoever else had the misfortune of traveling with them, were in for a day of his endless antics.
He pouted at her and she rolled her eyes. “And where would you put this monstrosity?”
“Two lanes in the East Room.” He smiled, pleased with himself.
“The East room.” She repeated, chewing on the words. “I can see the scoreboard now: China two-ninety-nine, Russia three-hundred.”
Jed grinned. “Placing your bet on Chigorin?”
“I think so.” She nodded. “He’s a hell of a lot fitter than Zemin.”
As they reached the tarmac, Abbey licked her thumb to fix a stray hair on his head before touching herself up with the addition of a lip gloss.
“Ohhh…” He said, a sultry tone to his voice.
She smirked. “Don’t start, Jethro.” She snapped her compact shut and side eyed him. “I’d plant one on you right now, but it would ruin all my hard work.”
The longing look he gave her shifted to annoyance as he glanced at the waiting press corps. “I can see the headlines now: ‘First Lady’s Sizzling Kiss Leaves President Swooning’.”
“I can make you swoon, can I?” She hummed, dancing her fingers over his chest.
The car rolled to a stop and he leaned forward, kissing her cheek. “Swooning is just the tip of the iceberg.”
They stepped out, the exchange hidden behind practiced smiles as they walked arm in arm towards a familiar face at the jet stairs.
“Just promise me one thing. If you ever do get that bowling alley, you let the kids win once in a while. You know how much of a sore loser Joshua is.”
He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “And ruin my perfect 450 streak?”
She pinched his arm lightly before greeting their third passenger. “Good morning.”
Sam turned around with a smile. It wasn’t as big and certainly not as bright as usual, but just as kind nonetheless.
"It's chilly this morning, isn’t it?" Sam said. He pulled his overcoat closed and buttoned it.
"I’d say it’s closer to balmy." Abbey responded as she analyzed him.
His eyes were dull, faint shadows lingering underneath them. His posture, less than straight, was closer to Toby’s hunch.
He rocked back on his heels. "I run cold. I’m like a lizard that way."
Abbey glanced at Jed, trying to gauge his reception of Sam and found what she could have sworn was a glimmer of concern before it dissolved back into the buzzing energy that he’d started the day with. "Sam, did you know that lizards are ectothermic,” he asked, launching into what the staff had dubbed ‘Final Jeopardy’, “they rely on external heat to regulate their body temperature.”
Attempting to match the President’s energy, Sam nodded. "I did know that, sir.”
An agent guided them towards the stairs, Jed and Sam gesturing for Abbey to lead the way before they followed. “Ectothermic. That’s a good word." Sam remarked as he stepped in time with Jed.
The president hummed in agreement. “From the Greek word for outside: ektós, and—”
“Thermós, which means heat.” Sam finished.
“Atta boy.” The president told him, clasping Sam’s shoulder with a hand as they entered the plane.
Settling into Jed’s office, Abbey watched Sam as her husband continued monologuing. She knew him well enough to see that he was trying to mask discomfort and. The way he squinted up at Jed pointed towards a headache and his pale skin was much more noticeable under the artificial light of the plane.
It was finally somewhere between adjusting the language for climate change and joint medical research, she leaned over and quietly asked him that burning question. "Are you feeling alright?"
“Yes, ma’am. Just fine.” Sam responded, bouncing his knee.
“Okay…” Abbey leveled her tone, deciding not to push the issue. “Well, can I get you anything? Tea maybe?”
Sam rubbed at his brow and considered the offer for a moment before answering. “That sounds great. Only if it’s not too much trouble… ma’am.”
“Did I suddenly become uninteresting in the last two minutes?” The president interjected as he looked between them over his glasses.
Sam laughed nervously as Abbey turned to glare at Jed.
“I’m so sorry that you aren’t the center of attention for a moment or two. The pain must be unbearable.” She smirked at him, rising from her seat. “I’m going to get this kid something to drink. What can I do you for, Mr. President?”
“Oh, we're raiding the bar already?” Jed asked.
“He’s not even old enough to drink.” She said, eliciting another chuckle from Sam. “I’m getting him some tea.”
“Then I’ll have that too. Thanks, hun.”
Abbey returned a few minutes later to Jed knee deep into an animated retelling of the Battle of Hastings. And although Sam was fully engrossed in it, she watched with a clinical eye as he poked uncomfortably at his ear.
“Thought these might come in handy.” She told him, opening her palm to reveal two Advils.
Sam stared up at her like he’d just been caught in the act before taking the mug and medication. He did his best to hide the pain that swallowing caused, but Abbey saw through it anyway. “Your throat hurts, huh?”
Sam dropped his head, eyes meeting his legal pad in a childish cower. “A little.”
“A little, he says.” She remarked, glancing at Jed who was eyeing Sam in concern. “Why don’t you put your stuff down and close your eyes for a bit?”
“We really need to polish the language for this, ma’am.” Sam said, looking between her and the president, as he tried to rally support.
Jed rounded the table and stood resolutely behind his wife. “Don’t look at me. She’s in charge.”
“We just need to hit renewable energy cooperation and Indio-pacific trade,” Sam said, flipping a page and nearly sighing at the list, “and infrastructure, agriculture, and labor standards.”
“Alright.” She voiced disapprovingly. “But when you hit your limit, you tell us, okay? I don’t care that your boss is the president of the United States.”
“Obviously.” Jed added. “Honestly, I think I could finish this up myself.”
Sam frowned. “No offense, sir, but you really can’t.”
“I’m wounded, Samuel.” The president gasped. “I’m an outstanding orator.”
Sam sucked in a breath. “Orator? Yes. Speechwriter… there’s room for improvement in that department.”
Jed only winked at him in response and Sam sagged back into his seat in relief. Part of him had been worried he might get chewed out for telling the president he was lacking in any area. Because despite their track record of friendly banter, a sick Sam had a whole different rationale than a healthy, happy-go-lucky Sam.
One thing that remained unchanged about Sam, however, was his unbearably strong work ethic. He continued to work through his symptoms, but as they rounded out the eighth hour, he finally spoke up.
“Sir.” He said tightly, the lightest tremble in his fingers as he held his pen above paper. “I’m sorry… but I can’t really see what I’m writing.”
Abbey’s hand shot up to his forehead, professionalism be damned, and she blew out a puff of air from her cheeks. “You’ve definitely got one for the books.”
She looked to Jed, giving him that look that said you better shut Sam down and you better do it now.
“I think you’re down for the count, kid.” The president told him. Sam nodded silently, his glazed eyes sliding shut against Abbey’s cold touch.
“You’re going to lay down.” She instructed. “You can use our cabin. It has a bed.”
The offer wiggled through Sam’s groggy mind and he opened his mouth to protest but the President cut him off. “Don’t worry. If I want to get some shut-eye, I won’t be shy about kicking your ass out.”
A sigh fell out of Sam, something that could have been a chuckle if there’d been any energy behind it. “Don’t want to put you out.” He said, eyes flickering back open for a moment in alarm. “Sir.”
“Nonsense.” The president insisted. “Go lie down. That’s an order.”
Sam knew that he was stuck between a rock and hard place… and also knew that he was far too exhausted to argue. “Yes, sir.”
They watched as Sam made his way out on unsteady feet.
As the night rolls on, they order dinner and share a bottle of Chardonnay, and eventually, she decides it’s time to check on her patient.
Inside the presidential cabin, Abbey quietly entered the room, her steps soft and silent. She approached the bed and gently touched his forehead, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. His brow furrowed as his body fought off the fever and she smiled at the memory of taking care of her own three girls. And even with Sam having just crossed the threshold into his thirties, she could easily picture what he looked like twenty-five years ago.
“Sam,” she whispered, “could you wake up for a minute for me?” Her voice was warm and smooth in Sam’s throbbing ears.
He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, glazed and lethargic as he shivered. “Mrs. President?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
He squinted up at her in confusion. “Is it… are the lizards still… running the meeting?”
Abbey smiled gently, doing her best to comfort him. “No, Sam. The lizards are taking a break.”
Sam seemed to struggle with this information but eventually he nodded. “Oh, good. They’re not good at speeches.”
“You still have a fever. I’m going to give you some more medicine, alright?” Sam nodded weakly, barely registering her words. It took a little coaxing but eventually, she managed to get the pills down him. “Go back to sleep, Sam.” She told him, and giving in to her motherly instincts, she began to card her hands through his hair.
Sam’s eyes started to close again, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Thanks, Mom.” He mumbled, his voice fading as he drifted off again.
Abbey felt a lump form in her throat, swallowing hard to keep her emotions in check. This was Sam. Sam was her husband's employee, not a patient, and most definitely not her child. But her heart couldn’t tell the difference.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” She whispered.
She stayed by his side for a few more minutes, watching his breathing even out as he settled. Finally satisfied that he was out, she quietly left the cabin and returned to her husband in his office.
Jed smiled at her warmly as he looked up from his papers. “I made you hot chocolate. Just the way you like it: with cinnamon on top.” He said, coming over to sit next to her with a steaming mug.
Abbey raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You mean you watched an attendant make it.”
“But I directed them. They got a crash course in Bartlet cuisine.” He replied.
Abbey chuckled, taking the mug. The warmth of the hot chocolate seeped through the ceramic. She took a sip, savoring the familiar taste.
“I think we all just might fall apart if we didn’t have you, Abbey.” He said, the genuine affection in his eyes making her want to melt straight into her cup.
She kissed him tenderly before bringing her nose back to touch his. “Yeah. I think you would.”