Disclaimer--Oooh, so not mine. I'm only borrowing... Yeah, that's it. Characters belong to Aaron Sorkin.

Author's Notes--Big *HUGE* thanks to Kerry and her alter egos Disney and Mallory. Thanks for beta-reading it. ;) And to my Mom, who said... "Y'know what'd work..." Thanks so much!!

Spoilers--Don't think so.

Feedback--Greatly welcomed.

Shining Through--That dreadful book... This is the sequel to "True Colors"

Abby smiled as she walked into the residence at the White House. It had been an interesting trip to Poland to say the absolute least, especially with the late-night phone call she had gotten from Jed three days ago. She found him sitting on the bed, fully clothed right down to his shoes, reading information in a file folder. "Gumdrop?" Jed dropped the file and practically flew to her side, welcoming her back with a hug and a long kiss.

"Abby!" he said. "I'm so glad you're home."

"It's nice to be home."

"How was Poland?"

"It was Poland. How are you holding up with that dreadful novel thing?" He sighed. The book was on everyone's mind and he hated talking about it.

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm nearly sick of it. Everywhere I go, we're bombarded with questions about it. They're quoting passages at us. Y'know, maybe Hitler had a good idea with the whole book burning thing."

"You don't believe that," she stated forcefully.

"No but still."

"You don't like the book at all?"

"Abby, you haven't read it?"

"And you have?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. Mallory's copy is floating around the West Wing. I think C.J. has it at the moment. Or maybe it was John Hoynes. I forget."

"You don't think it portrays the campaign correctly?"

"Well, I agree with the author, whoever he or she or it is, on the whole VP ordeal." He shook his head. "But it hinted to my medical condition," he said. "Now who in the hell knows about that? You. Me. Leo. John. Fitz. Your parents. My parents. My sister. Your brother. Our girls. And that anesthesiologist. But there's no way he could have written this. He didn't have the inside track while we were on the campaign trail." Abby shrugged. About that time her personal assistant poked her head in.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, Dr. Bartlet, ma'am. Hello, Mr. President."

"Hello, Holly," Jed said with a sigh.

"You've got a telephone call from a Mr. Ned Harris. He refused to say where he was from, only saying that it was urgent he talk to you." Abby nodded. "Line two."

"Thanks." Holly ducked out. "Do you mind, pumpkin?"

"Excuse me, Mr. President, Mrs. Bartlet," Charlie said as he entered. Jed rolled his eyes.

"That's what we get for leaving the door open," Abby said.

"Yes, Charlie?"

"C.J. would like to speak with you."

"It's about that damn book," Jed groaned. "I'm so tired of talking about that book!"

"She said it was important."

"Everything with C.J. the past few days has been 'important,'" said the President.

"Oh, go talk to her, Jed," said Abby. Jed nodded and followed Charlie out of the room. Abby closed the door behind them and rushed over to the telephone. "Ned?" she asked, answering the phone.

"Hello, Mrs. Bartlet. I was calling about finalizing the deal."

"Ned, I've told you. I don't want to sign."

"But. This could be the best move you've ever made, ma'am. It'll establish your credibility like that," he said, snapping his fingers.

"I've told you since I came to you. I don't want a movie deal. I don't want my name released."

"But, ma'am, please forgive me for being frank but. This is a dynamite story. We've got interest from some of the top names in Hollywood. Plus, I've got calls from Barns and Nobles *begging* for book signings."

"Ned!" she said. "No."

"But."

"I said absolutely not. I just wanted to write a book. I did. It's been blown out of proportions."

"Ma'am, you must've known somebody would have put it together, that you based the characters on your husband and his staff, otherwise you wouldn't have requested your name be kept *off* the book. And, believe me, we're getting deluged with phone calls. People want to meet the author of this *fantastic* book."

"Ned, that's not why I wrote this book. I wrote it to see if I could do it. I can. I'm on the top ten best seller list and it's only been out a week." 'Besides,' Abby thought, 'everyone always tells you to write about what you know.'

"Ma'am, please."

"No."

"And there's nothing more I can say?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"You're making a mistake."

"No. No I'm not," she said, glancing at the door.

End.

 

 

 

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