Bouncing Back

by: Rhonda and Evelyn

Character(s): The Women of the West Wing
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley
Category(s): Humor, Romance, Post Ep
Rating: TEEN
Disclaimer: They're not ours and never will be.
Summary: Post-episode story for Inauguration: Over There
Spoiler: Red Haven's On Fire
Feedback: Greatly Appreciated
Authors Note: This is a sequel to Bouncing Inaugural Balls. Thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback. We had such a good time with these characters that we couldn't resist bringing them back for a little more fun. Enjoy!

"Do you know what the press called the trailer assigned to the media during President Nixon's term of office? They called it Poison Ivy Lodge... but when President Ford was sworn in, they renamed it... do you know what it was called? Come on try and guess..."

Will had no idea what Ainsley was talking about and he didn't care. Her voice was like angels singing, not that he'd actually ever heard an angel, or at least he didn't think he had, but he was sure that the mellifluous, sweet tones coming from the goddess with long blonde hair who was sitting just inches from him would sound just like an angel. He couldn't believe he was with such a beautiful woman... a woman with hair the color of pale yellow silk, eyes the color of the azure sea, skin the color of... red... angry fire engine red?

"The press installed a new sign on the trailer that read Honeysuckle. You know I'm a Republican, my father was a Republican, my grandfather was a Republican, and we're all mighty proud to say it, but I have no trouble acknowledging that President Nixon was wrong, just plain wrong. Why in the world he... "

"Um, Ainsley?"

"Yes, Will," the Assistant White House Counsel smiled at the shy speechwriter, as she rubbed her rapidly swelling eyes - pale blue orbs that could easily hypnotize the newly appointed Deputy Communications Director if they weren't swimming in tears.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, moving closer, then jumping back as the blonde Tar Heel began sneezing and wheezing uncontrollably, her head flinging back and forth like a rag doll with each explosive outburst.

"Your... your... shirt... dog hair," she gasped, pointing at the pinstriped, button-down oxford shirt that the speechwriter had donned that morning.

"Oh my God," Will cried, frantically ripping the buttons open and tossing the shirt over the coffee table and into the fire blazing in the rock fireplace. "I'll get a cool cloth for your face or maybe you should take a shower. The steam might help." Before she could answer, he lifted her from the couch and started to carry her into the bathroom.

"Clar..."

"Clara? Who's Clara? Do you want me to call someone named Clara? Is she the nurse on duty?"

"tin," she panted, beginning to scratch at her arms and sides.

"Tin - Rin Tin Tin?  No, no her name is Whiskey. But it doesn't matter. I'll never go near her again. I'll have her sent to the Arctic Circle. I'll..."

"Purse," she huffed, pointing to the large brown satchel by the sofa, and snuggling a little closer to the speechwriter's chest, which was remarkably well-toned for a man of words she noticed.

"Claritin, in your purse," Will shrieked as though coming up with the winning answer in a game of charades. He whipped around from the bathroom doorway and hustled over to the sofa, not willing to put down his precious bundle. Sitting on the cushions and continuing to hold her wheezing body on his lap, Will used one hand to paw through the pocketbook, frantically tossing candy wrappers, as he searched for the antihistamine.

"Got it," he yelped, handing her the pill and then grabbing the remains of a glass of iced tea from the tray.

She downed the pill and the liquid in one fast gulp. Once she finished, Ainsley smiled weakly and put her head down on his well-muscled shoulder, her fingers lying limply on his bare skin, her breathing obviously pained.

"Do you think the steam would help?" he asked, tightening his hold around the tiny waist of the Southern lawyer and preparing to stand once again.

"I think sitting in a warm, steam-filled room with you might be just what the doctor ordered," she wheezed. "But your slacks... the dog sat on them."

"Oh. Right. When I get the water running, I'll get rid of them."

Ainsley smiled and shut her eyes. She could learn to love that dog.

The lights along the pathway and garden were subdued, giving out only enough light to allow people to safely traverse the campground from the main lodge to the various cabins and outbuildings.

"Things always this exciting around here?" Mac stopped on the neatly tended stone path and prepared to light a cigar.

"Quite often even more so," a sarcastic Debbie responded, snatching the cigar from his mouth and tossing it into a nearby flowerpot.

"I take it you don't smoke," Mac growled, his eyes narrowing in irritation. He slipped his lighter back in his pocket, figuring to try another when his assigned keeper let him off his chain.

"Not even second-hand smoke," she declared, glancing over to where Whiskey was sitting, staring up into a tree. "What's she doing?"

"Wishing the squirrel would surrender."

"Sweet Knees?"

"Hmmm."

"Did you think the chili was a little mild this time? I had to use the kitchen's chili powder and it just didn't seem to have the punch my own special blend has. What did you think?"

Still dressed from dinner, but with their shoes kicked off, the First Couple were lying on top of the spread of the king-sized bed in the master bedroom of Aspen Lodge. A roaring fire in the mammoth brick hearth warmed the room.

The First Lady chose that moment to snuggle closer to her husband, running her hands through his gray-flecked hair, and pressing her lips to his, then deepening the kiss.

Finally, he pulled back, slightly breathless. The Commander-in-Chief caught his bride's chin and held it in place. Staring deeply into her dark brown eyes, he whispered, "You didn't eat any, did you?"

"Never touch the stuff, Jethro, you know that. I want to live to see Zoey's kids grow up... although if I thought for one moment that... well, what is it Charlie calls him? Frog Prince? If I thought he was going to be the father of my grandchildren, well... I'd have her in a convent so fast her head would spin," Abbey growled. Then sighing, she looked at the Leader of the Free World and the father of her daughters and asked, "What the hell are we going to do about Frenchie? Jed, he's just plain God-awful obnoxious. I'm ready to tear my hair out every time I'm with them. This morning he went on and on about the garlic butter his mother uses for the snails she serves that she personally catches in her garden... Apparently royalty enjoys getting their hands dirty for snails. Hell, I almost spit my corn flakes all over his designer suit. We've got to do something, Jed. I can't last another day with that spawn of a French Satan."

The Commander-in-Chief clasped his strung out wife to his chest, and ran his hand up and down her back, trying to get her to relax. "Shhhh. I have a feeling that Pepe Le Peu won't be bothering us much soon."

"You mean it, Josiah. I could be very grateful to someone who rid the world of that French parasite, if you know what I mean." Smiling, she slowly began to unbutton the President's starched white shirt.

He leaned back against the pillows, enjoying the attention, then took a deep breath and decided the time had come to bring up another decidedly touchy issue. "But as long as we're talking about royal pains in the ass..."

His wife stopped her ministrations and arched an eyebrow in question, tapping one red fingernail against his belt buckle. "Do I want to hear this?"

The President of the last Super Power plowed on. "I didn't even get a bite of my watered-down chili or a hunk of the cornbread because your Chief of Staff wouldn't shut up. She went on in exquisite detail what she intended to do to the manhood of anyone who questioned her plan to, I don't know, take over the world or my job or something. She was waving around her butter knife so much that Ron Butterfield finally had to take it away from her. Abigail, that woman is a danger to society or at least to anyone who has a Y chromosome. She's pissed off every member of Congress she's met. Even CJ is about ready to shove a motherboard up her... and Josh is, well Josh is hanging on by a thread. The poor boy even went without supper to avoid her for a few hours. I don't know how you can stand to be in the same room with her for more than 30 seconds and that's at least 40 seconds longer than I can handle. Sweet Tarts, you've got to rid my world of that She-Devil from the pits of Hades."

"Shhhh, my little cupcake. It's going to be just fine. Don't worry your incredibly handsome head about it. I just have a feeling that the feminazi from Hell is planning to move on very soon."

"Abbey, what have you done?" Jed questioned, catching at her hand as she slid down his zipper.

"Me. Nothing you wouldn't approve of gumdrop, or do - if you'd thought of it first." She grinned at him, then sat up in the bed, slowly unbuttoning her blue silk blouse.

"You're so sexy when you bring the tough love, my sweet. Come here," the Chief Executive growled and pulled his First Lady close for a kiss.

"I've got to go," Danny mumbled, tearing his mouth away from hers. "Charlie needs..."

"I need you, too." An amorous CJ wrapped one leg around his thigh, trying to discourage his leaving. "You said you wanted me. Well, here I am. Take me."

Danny glanced around the seemingly deserted pool area wondering where all the Secret Service agents were positioned and how many cameras were pointed at them. No way was he baring his ass for another crowd's amusement.

"Couldn't I get a rain-check?" he whimpered, trying to raise up from the chaise lounge that CJ had impulsively decided was the perfect place for their first time. After four years of chasing her, she'd decided that now was the time. Shit. Anyone - like the President for one - could walk up on them here. He was a gambler but not a fool. And besides, he'd promised Charlie he'd meet him five minutes ago.

"Dan-ny. All this time I thought you wanted..."

He hated to do it but, desperate times required desperate measures. Interrupting her, he lied. "I think I saw a snake out here earlier. I know how you..."

"Ouch." The chaise lounge was empty and Danny was left alone, sitting directly on the rock patio, rubbing his bruised behind.

A wet swipe on his ear had him scrambling to his feet.

"What the..."

Whiskey stared up at him. Danny swore she was smiling.

"Shut up."

"I've been looking all over for you."

"The Fresh Prince of Versailles settled down for the night?" the President's assistant asked, looking up from the video he was watching. He was alone in a small den in the cabin that housed the dining room, New Laurel.

"Mr. Butterfield insisted on escorting Jean-Paul back to his room after the little incident in the dining room. I think the choke-hold was a little bit of an over-reaction."

"He barfed all over the Leader of the Free World."

"Talk about projectile vomiting. I thought we were watching a rerun of 'The Exorcist'," the First Daughter giggled.

"Didn't you say that Lucifer was his middle name?"

"Lucien. His name is Jean-Paul Lucien de Bourbon."

"Close enough." Charlie shrugged, turning his gaze back to the screen.

"What are you watching?" Zoey asked, sitting down on the couch next to her ex-boyfriend and reaching across his lap to take a handful of popcorn. Her hand glanced across his lap, lingering for the briefest of seconds, as she settled back against the cushions, with a mere three inches separating their bodies.

"'Mission Impossible', without subtitles," he sarcastically answered, reaching across her chest to grab the bottle of beer that was resting on the end table. He brought it to his lips, took a swig, and then silently offered her some.

"Mmmm, this tastes sooo good."

"It's Bud Lite," Charlie pointed out. "I think it was bottled in Milwaukee last week."

She handed him back the bottle and watched carefully as he put his lips where hers had just been and drank some of the amber liquid.

"My eyes are kind of light sensitive. Would you mind if I turned off the lamp?" Zoey asked in a low voice.

"I wouldn't want your eyes to get irritated," Charlie whispered, reaching across his ex-girlfriend to hit the switch, plunging the room into darkness except for the flickering light from the video.

"Your kindness and consideration for others has always been an endearing quality," she answered breathlessly.

"Zoey, what are you doing?" the Presidential assistant asked in surprise.

"Getting some popcorn, of course," she answered, and even if he couldn't see her smile, he could hear it.

"That's not popcorn you've got in your hands."

"Abbey?" Jed Bartlet glanced at the bedside clock and sat up, searching for his discarded boxers. Getting no response from his wife, he nudged her bare shoulder. "Abbey."

"Not again so soon, Mr. President." Abbey rolled over onto her back, naked except for the sheet pooling around her hips. She smiled up at him. "Your stealth bomber sank all my battle ships - I'm going to have to re-arm before we go at it again."

Jed grinned. "Well, as much as I'd like to mount another invasion, I don't have time right now. We have to get dressed."

"In the morning, darling. Right now I'm going to continue to float on this cloud you left me on."

Jed leaned over and kissed her slightly swollen mouth, his hand caressing one of her full breasts. "Sweet Knees, Ron and his mighty men are going to be joining us in about uh, 6 1/2 minutes, give or take a few seconds. You're gonna want to be dressed."

Abbey's passion-filled eyes suddenly narrowed, "Damnit, Jethro! What's going on?"

Jed smiled and grabbed his pants off the end of the bed. "Just a little fire drill."

"Do you hear that?" Will asked, pulling his lips away from those of the damp Republican attorney who was curled upon his lap. As the siren blared again, he jumped to his feet, still holding her in his arms.

"I don't... yes. It's some kind of alarm. We should..." Ainsley urged him to put her down.

She turned off the shower and snagged a towel off the counter to wipe her damp face.

Will circled in place, his glasses fogged with moisture. "Yeah. We need to evacuate. Uh, first I need my pants and you should button..."

Ainsley opened the bathroom door, letting out clouds of steam into the cabin bedroom. The strident noise was getting louder, shaking the glass in the windows. "Oh, God. Do you think we're under attack?"

"Attack? Oh, geez. Uh, I think we're supposed to go to a shelter... there's an emergency plan. I saw a laminated card somewhere. Maybe on the...uh, where..."

"Outside the main conference room, New Laurel cabin," Ainsley responded grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the main door.

Will managed to resist long enough to get both legs in his pants and grab his laptop. If they survived, he wouldn't want to leave the President speechless.

"Did I do that?" Andi asked, startled when the sirens sounded just as she opened the refrigerator door in the large kitchen of the New Laurel cabin.

Toby, in the middle of building Andi a sandwich big enough to feed three people, paused and counted the blasts. "Nah. That's a fire alarm. We better head for the patio outside. I'm sure Ron Butterfield will be evacuating the President and the First Lady. We'll need to be ready to go too.

Andi pulled a bottle of mustard out of the refrigerator and then reached back in for a jar of pickles. "You just finish what you're doing, Mister. I don't smell any smoke yet."

Toby opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. He slapped another slice of bologna on the bread and carefully arranged the sliced tomatoes in the pattern she demanded.

"Oh, Josh - that's so... I know about 'feeling the earth move' - but I'm hearing bells too."

"Donna, Donna, Donna, " he chanted, rocking the bed with the force of his movements.

"Josh, honey, I think something..."

"Stay with me, Donna. We're almost there. Almost..."

"It's a fire alarm, Josh. We have to go."

"Not now, Donna. Please. Just wait...wait... Oh. Geez."

"Oh, Josh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too. Me too."

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9a | 9b

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