Epilogue, Part Two: I love it when you give me things

Seven years and three months later

To: vicepresident at whitehouse

From: ebethbnet

Subject: The budget

Sam,

I have an idea. Find somewhere in the budget for some kind of levering device for pregnant ladies to get out of chairs. All this heaving and grunting is embarrassing.

Lizzie

To: ebethbnet

From: vicepresident at whitehouse

Subject: The budget

Lizzie,

I'm not sure we have enough for pencils right now, let alone glorified shoe horns.

Sam

To: vicepresident at whitehouse

From: ebethbnet

Subject: The budget

Sam,

What about cutting the armed forces polish budget? They can afford to look grubby for a few weeks to enable me to stop my fantastic impersonation of a beached whale. I'll write to them if you like.

Lizzie

To: ebethbnet

From: vicepresident at whitehouse

Subject: The budget

Lizzie,

Thanks, but no thanks. Save your pitches for Big Block of Cheese Day. I have no doubt that your husband still holds those, right? Now stop distracting me. I'm supposed to be looking at my speech for tomorrow. Not entertaining you.

Sam

To: willdarcy at whitehouse

From: ebethbnet

Subject: Your crummy candidate

Will,

Sam won't put one little thing that I want in the budget. Threaten him with quitting, would you?

Love, L xx

To: ebethbnet

From: willdarcy at whitehouse

Subject: You have too much time on your hands

Lizzie,

No.

Will

xxx

To: willdarcy at whitehouse

From: ebethbnet

Subject: You are going down

What do you mean, No? And here I am, laid up at home, bored out of my mind because you a) sent me to the doctor, b) agreed when he forced me into bed rest, then c) told CJ that I was taking early maternity leave, and d) somehow used your FBI friends to stop my computer from emailing work, therefore leaving me e) BORED OUT OF MY MIND. I tried bating Sam, but he's not playing along. Clearly Ainsley has sent him similarly stupid emails over the years. He ignored me. The dastardly fool. Now what are you doing agreeing to be his chief of staff? And you seriously need to lift my injunction on emailing work. Right now I'm resorting to distracting the President Elect, and that's going to help no one. Sort it out.

The wife xxx

To: ebethbnet

From: willdarcy at whitehouse

Subject: The husband

1) You're the size of a whale, you still have a few weeks to go and you fainted the other day. Stop complaining, and turn on the TV. If nothing else you can watch Sesame Street with Griff. I know how much you like the Muppets.

2) Stop bating Sam. He's only just won the election. Had he not, I very soon would not have had a job. Now there's a sobering thought.

3) I never set the FBI on you. It was all CJ. She can read you like a book, and knew that you'd try and work. So stop that. The most taxing your brain needs right now is sorting shapes and learning to share with Elmo.

4) I'm trying to organise matters of great governmental importance here. It doesn't help having emails flying in every five minutes either from you, or complaining about you.

5) Now stop typing. I know the laptop is broken therefore you are sitting at the computer, therefore YOU ARE NOT RESTING. We have a perfectly serviceable couch. Use it.

Love, W x

To: willdarcy at whitehouse

From: ebethbnet

Subject: My husband

1) Griff told me to tell you that the Sesame Street gang are not the same as the Muppets, no matter how much he or his mother (alias, me) enjoys both of them. No lie. Except I'm pretty sure that he doesn't know the word 'alias'.

2) He won. He's got three months off now. Kind of. Plenty of time for chatting when you think about it.

3) I'd appreciate you not telling me not to tax my brain. Except that number of negatives has confused me so much that maybe you were right…damn it.

4) You don't have to read anyone else's emails. Just mine. I am, after all, gestating the second of your offspring. Be grateful.

5) I found the wireless keyboard so am lounging in the armchair with my feet up, squinting across the obscene distance to the computer. I may be resting, but I'm going to ruin my eyes. Also, I'm perfectly aware of our perfectly serviceable couch. It is, after all, the site of the reason for all this bed rest nonsense if you know what I mean.

Love, L & G xx

To: ebethbnet

From: willdarcy at whitehouse

Subject: Wife

I am grateful, sweetheart. Really, really grateful. And given half a chance, despite all of your crazy, I would just read your emails. And in fact, would come home to you and Griff and hang out with the Sesame Street Gang. You know I would. But right now, I've got a whole pile of things on my desk, and I'd really like to at least swing by before Griff's in bed, and right now, I'm not sure that'll happen so please, please, could you give the emailing a break?

All my love, xxx

To: willdarcy at whitehouse

From: ebethbnet

Subject: Wife

I was going to say yes, except I think that I may be in labor. Could you come home any time soon?

L x

Three months later

Charlie walks out of his office, rolling his shoulders, and easing out his neck.

"Where are you going?"

He grins, as rueful as ever. "Just for a walk. It's amazing how that office can make my back seize."

"You might need to adjust your chair."

His neck makes a crunching sound and he winces. "Yeah."

Will shakes his head slowly. "You look good."

"I'm married," says Charlie, apologetically.

"I meant…"

He grins. "I know. And I know I do, right?"

"Your wife knows how to pick a good suit."

Charlie frowns. "Why would you think that I didn't pick it?"

Will's mouth twitches into a smile. "I distinctly remember a white suit that first weekend I met you. You may appear conservative on the surface but you, my friend, are a raging John Travolta underneath."

"A raging John Travolta?"

He shrugs. "Shut up. You know what I mean."

"Yeah." He fingers his bow tie. "Still can't do these though."

"Lizzie can."

Charlie raises an eyebrow. "That's great, Will. I can list my wife's accomplishments too. Listen…"

Will gives him a look. "She's here."

"My favourite sister-in-law? In the house?"

"Oh, I'm so telling the others that Lizzie's your favourite. Lydia's going to kick your ass."

Charlie pales. "Damn. It's Mary I'm worried about."

Will bats a hand, dismissively. "She's in a whole other continent, plus, I've always liked her. No, it's Lydia who you need to watch."

"Maybe you could just not tell them?"

"Maybe you could throw next Christmas's charades?"

Charlie's eyes narrow. "Nothing is worth that."

Will shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Charlie narrows his eyes further, before snorting with laughter. "Fine." He gets up off the desk edge, just in time to scoop up the little boy who has just crawled between them, intently pushing a plastic truck ahead of him. "Hey, Griffy boy," he says, and turns the three year old upside-down for good measure.

He shrieks, and laughs uproariously.

"You ready to surrender?"

"Yes!" he squeaks between giggles.

"What do you say?"

"Uncle Charlie knows more about poti…poli…potilics, than Daddy."

"Hey!"

Charlie grins. "That's right." Then he turns Griff up the right way, then high fives him. "Good work."

"Stop corrupting my son," says Will, and he holds out his hands to his son. Immediately, Griff leaps joyfully and, with Will's arms round him, leans back to see his father's face.

"Will Uncle Rich play trucks?" he asks, a frown creasing his forehead.

Will smiles. "I'm sure if you ask nicely."

He nods and yawns, then settles his head on Will's shoulder.

"And if you're still awake," murmurs Will.

"I will," his little voice protests.

Charlie laughs. "All right. I need to get a few things done before Jane arrives. I'll see you later, and you," he adds, a hand on Griff's curls, "on Sunday."

He blinks heavily, and nods. "Will Cal and Jeffy be there?" he asks sleepily, tired words sliding into each other.

"Of course," says his uncle. "They were getting their cars ready for Sunday when I left this morning."

Griff nods again, eyes more closed than open.

Charlie grins, and heads off down the corridor, whistling. Slowly, Will manages to bend down and pick up the truck, now discarded on the floor, before carrying his son back to his office. Opening the door, he finds that Griff is not the only one asleep. Her dress all ready for the evening, her curls now squashed a little, Lizzie lies on Will's office couch, their twelve week old daughter asleep, curled up on her chest. He smiles, and feels for the thousandth time how lucky he is, then, having carefully deposited Griff in the armchair, he kneels down next to Lizzie.

"Hey," he says softly, a hand on her face. She turns into it, and sighs, before opening her eyes.

"Hi," she says, and smiles. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep…"

Will smiles back. "I think it's allowed when you don't get much sleep at night."

"Mmm."

"You all right?"

She nods, sleepily. "Fine. It's just very cosy in here."

Will nods, then notices that his daughter's eyes have fluttered open. "Here," he says, and picks her up, cradling her against his chest, her round little head nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Lizzie watches father and daughter for a second, then sits up.

"My hair…" she mutters, and smooths it out.

"It's fine."

She gives him a withering look. "You're a boy. You just throw on a tux and walk out the door."

He grins, apologetically.

"What time is Rich coming?"

He gets up slowly. "In about twenty minutes?" Then he sits down on the couch.

She nods. "Fine." Using the light's reflection in the glass of a framed picture, she fixes her hair, then sits back down again, next to Will. She watches Will and their daughter for a moment, then cautiously asks, "are you happy?"

After six years of marriage, the crushing fears of being left alone in the world have shifted. He may still fear their travel, every doctor's appointment, every phone call when they aren't at arm's reach, but the deep seated, gut twisting fears that Lizzie will leave him, are gone. Utterly and completely. "Yes," he says, content.

She nods slowly. "President Zimmerman sent us a gift for Bethan today."

Will raises his eyebrows. "Complete Dr Seuss?"

She laughs, softly. "Why he thinks that they can't share Griff's is a mystery…"

Will smiles, and glances over at Griff as he stirs for a second. He settles, and Will turns back to Lizzie.

"Anyway," says Lizzie, "he wrote something on the label."

"Yeah?"

She picks up the square of card off the table next to her. "You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep," she reads, "because reality is finally better than your dreams."

Will's mouth twitches. "Dr Seuss clearly never had children. I'd say bed-wetting, night time feeds and dinosaurs in the wardrobe are the actual reason that we don't sleep."

Lizzie gives him a long, and withering look.

He grins. "That," he amends, "or that my dreams don't come close to all this."

Her frown begins to clear. "Better," she says.

"Nowhere near," he murmurs, leaning towards her.

"OK."

"I meant what I said, and I said what I meant…"

Lizzie laughs and kisses him.

Holy baloney, I didn't think we'd ever get here! I know that it certainly wouldn't have happened were it not for you guys. Your reviewing, cheerleading, and general enthusiasm has kept me going, and I really can't thank you enough. I particularly need to thank LJ for her unending support and unerring ability to make me laugh at myself. Also, for naming Jane and Charlie's twins, and for not minding when I put my foot down over calling a son of theirs Chandler. Chandler Bingley. Yes.

I really should reiterate that Pride and Prejudice, The West Wing and What's Up Doc? are all brilliant, and certainly no creation of mine, and if you haven't experienced them all, then you should go immerse yourself in them now as the weather starts to turn in. If you were wondering, most of the chapter titles came from What's Up Doc? with a few from Bringing Up Baby, and a couple from a few songs (Back to Tennessee and The Book of Love). There were several WUD? quotes that I wanted to use, one being "Who do you think they'll arrest? The girl in the tub or the guy with his pants down?", but they never seemed to fit. Shame.

As for the future, aside from basking in the smug satisfaction of having finished writing something, I have some more writing planned, including a complete Austen series. Yes. Crazy, I know. Especially as they're all going to be set in roughly the same universe so that they can cross over. At least it won't be as confusing and mammoth-a-task as my original plan was which was a simultaneous six way crossover. Yep. Not going to happen. Not yet, anyway.

So. Thank you again. So much. Please come back again when I start posting the next one. I will look forward to seeing you all again.

Many thanks to you all. FP