John's Quest

Title: John's Quest

By: Abra de Winter

Pairing: John Hoynes/Ellie Bartlet - Romance

Rating: PG13

Beta By: dot - without her help the story would not be nearly as good as it is. Any mistakes left in the story - all mine

Spoilers: season 5 episodes 15 – "Full Disclosure" and 16 – "Eppur si muove"

Disclaimer: The characters are from the NBC, WB, Bravo, A John Wells Prod., TV show, 'The West Wing'. They are the creation of Aaron Sorkin.

Feedback: yes, please!


Chapter V


John Hoynes had learned to like his new life. He liked his work. Well, as much as anyone could like the not-so-glamorous branch of corporate law. He liked his freedom. He was single after a marriage that had lasted more than twenty years. Granted, he had not been a faithful husband, but the constant need for secrecy had lost its appeal soon after his first few affairs.

The thing he really missed was politics, though he refused to admit it. The previous Thanksgiving dinner with his family had been celebrated in the traditional guilt-filled atmosphere. His parents let him know that he had disappointed them by divorcing, but most of all by losing his position in the party. They had suggested that he should return home to run the family business, as it was his birthright and his duty. He had evaded their allusions with diplomacy.

John told himself that the attitude of his parents was his sole reason for not returning to Texas. However, the truth was that he did not want to leave Washington, knowing that if he went away, he might never return. He was out of politics, but politics was not out of him.

He had only one activity outside his work that he truly enjoyed: talking to his two new friends. Both had come as a surprise, and both had appeared in his life as a result of something negative. Although John had managed to ruin the advantages life had offered him, he had at least learned to turn possible disasters into tests of friendship. Oliver Babish and Ellie Bartlet had gone from casual acquaintances to trusted friends.

Oliver had helped him to deal with his post-divorce depression. Ellie helped him understand her generation, and particularly the women of her generation. His two friends had made it easier for him to deal with his mid-life crisis. Their influence tempered the workaholic Hoynes and at the same time saved him from the need to recapture his youth buying fast cars and dating women half his age.

So it came to pass that Hoynes sailed through the storm of his forty-sixth anniversary without incident. Instead of the one night stand that had become customary since he had hit forty, John Hoynes celebrated his birthday in a snobbish French restaurant in the company of Oliver Babish.
He found Oliver reading "Le Monde" as usual. His friend put the paper down and wished him a happy birthday, in passing, before diving into the legal issue they had debated on their previous meeting.

John was quite pleased not to have a fuss made over his birthday. His age wasn't really a big deal. However, he was rather downhearted because the day was over and his son hadn't called. He made excuses for Van; that he was in college, that the exams were close, that he was young, that he just forgot. They didn't work. His rationalizations did not overpower the guilt. Van hadn't called because he hated him with the passion of a teenager devastated by his parents' divorce.
Oliver's conversation soon engaged him and the pain of his son's rejection dulled a little.

Dinner was almost over. Oliver was savoring his brandy while John was enjoying a chocolate mousse. They had talked and now was the time for comfortable silence
John's gaze fell on an elaborate arrangement of white orchids set on another table. The light reflecting on the fleshy petals gave them a bluish hue. His lips thinned in a distant smile, and he felt like Jonny Quest, the boy hero of his childhood, facing an exciting mystery: The Enigma of the Blue Orchid. He thought of Ellie and the smile was no longer just on his lips, but also in his eyes.

Oliver's voice pierced through his dreamy state.

"So? Who is she?"

John looked away from the orchids and was confronted with an amused expression on his friend's face.

"Just a friend," he said, automatically.

"Those orchids made you think of someone who is just a friend?" Oliver sounded incredulous.

"Yes. She is..." he paused. "She's a good friend."

"Must be," Oliver said, and finished his drink.

An hour later John was back in his apartment. He went wearily to the answering machine. There were no messages from Van. He was sad, but not surprised that his son hadn't called. He had half expected to find another message from Ellie. He had had meetings all day in order to avoid mushy birthday wishes from the people who knew it was his birthday, but he regretted that he hadn't been able to talk to Ellie. She had left him a message that morning while he was in his 10.30 meeting. Still, he had hoped she'd call again. He should have known better. She never called him twice in the same day. Sometimes she didn't call him twice in a week.
He turned on the TV and zapped absent-mindedly through the channels. He reached for the phone to call Ellie back, just because he was bored, because it was his birthday and he was alone, because he wanted to hear her voice. He had come to learn that making Ellie laugh was the best way to lift his spirits from the darkest state of mind.

No. That was not a good idea. He was too vulnerable at the moment. He took up the remote control again and looked for a program that might get him out of that state.

"She's a good friend."

"Must be…"

Oliver's undertone lingered in his mind, pushing him towards a conclusion. He refused to articulate it. He couldn't afford that kind of complication in his life. However, John Hoynes's psyche was not built to swim endlessly in denial.

He must have fallen fast asleep because the next thing he knew, there was a knock on the door. He opened it and was shocked to see Ellie there.

"Happy birthday, John," she said, hugging him briefly, careful not to drop the packages she was carrying. "This is for you." She gave him the smaller one, which was neatly tied with a bow.

"Thank you."

He took the gift and put it carelessly on a table, still half asleep. He had "accidentally" fallen asleep on the couches of beautiful women before, knowing how irresistibly vulnerable he seemed with his hair ruffled and his necktie loosened, but the woman looking at him now was Ellie and he was not at all sure he was comfortable that she was looking at him like all the others. He felt uncomfortable and yet quite flattered at the same time.

"Something to drink?" he asked.

"Champagne?"

He looked in his fridge, although he knew he didn't have any alcohol.

"Not likely. Mineral water or orange juice?"

"Water. It won't have the same chemistry with your birthday cake, but it'll have to do."

Ellie had followed him into the kitchen and now gave him the second package. Inside was a cake with strawberries and whipped cream. When he tried to transfer it onto a plate his fingers slid into the layer of cream. He reached for a towel, but Ellie's hand was already on his wrist, stopping him.

He watched as she brought his hand to her mouth, and before his brain could react in any way, she had started licking it clean. The feel of her warm, soft tongue on his hand echoed throughout his body. The sensation in his stomach went further south when she swirled her tongue around each of his fingers. The tension in his groin became more intense when she took his index finger in her mouth and began to suck on it.

"Ellie," he whispered.

She let his finger out and released his hand, which dropped heavily by his side.

"Waste not, want not," she said in a low tone he had never heard before.

John watched her as she picked up a large strawberry from the cake and bit into it. He couldn't detach his gaze from her mouth. Her lips were as red as the fruit she was eating. Her teeth sunk again into the flesh of the fruit and juice dripped from the corner of her mouth. Slowly, she collected the red beads with her tongue.

He couldn't stand it any longer. He leaned in to kiss her and at that moment the loud ring of his cell phone, coupled with its vibration in his pocket, woke him up John realized, frustrated, that he had fallen asleep in front of the TV.

"Yes. Hello," he answered, annoyed.

"Hello, John. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

He sighed recognizing the voice of his ex-wife.

"No, Suzanne. I was asleep."

"At this hour? It's a little early for you, isn't it?"

"Why did you call?" he cut through her veiled insinuations.

"To wish you happy birthday, darling, why else?"

John looked at his watch, and noted with a grimace that she had waited until past midnight to call him. She had made sure she called a day late.

"Thank you. So nice of you to remember."

A few minutes later he hung up the phone, with the familiar bitter taste in his mouth. A year had passed since their divorce and she was still full of resentment, quite understandably.

In the past few months, the sensation of guilt had finally dulled. Mostly thanks to Ellie. He opened the book she had sent him that morning. She had once told him it was her favorite copy of "Le Petit Prince", the one she had bought with her pocket money, when she was on a trip in Paris at the age of sixteen. The gift touched him in a way he couldn't express. He read the dedication again: "Happy Birthday, John! You're a wonderful friend. I'm lucky and happy to have you in my life. Ellie"

He leafed through the book, touched by the innocent fable, while a darker part of him could not help remembering the image of Ellie in his kitchen, carrying a birthday cake topped with whipped cream and strawberries. Guilt and arousal battled inside him until he finally fell asleep.

________________________________________


The Baltimore branch of his firm was throwing a party in honor of a senior partner who was retiring at the height of his success. John's first reaction to the invitation was to throw it in the pile of junk mail. He wasn't going to miss his weekly poker game for something as tedious as that.

However, when Ellie mentioned that she would be going to the party, because the retiring businessman had been one of their most generous patrons, John heard himself answering:

"This is a coincidence! I'll be there, too."

Later that evening he tried to rationalize his reply. He had not said it because he wanted to see her. All right, he did want to see her, but not because he missed her or anything like that. He had to see her only because he needed to erase the stupid notion Oliver had accidentally put into his head. He didn't have any feelings for her. No more than he had feelings for Oliver.

They were just friends. OK, so he wasn't wondering what Oliver was wearing when they talked on the phone, but that didn't mean anything. He couldn't always imagine her in a lab coat. Besides, it was her own damn fault that his imagination ran wild sometimes. She was the one who had picked an exotic handle like BlueOrchid. Her explanation that she had once blown up an ink bottle and painted an innocent white orchid blue had never stopped him from thinking of her as a beautiful, rare, blue orchid.

This party was a good opportunity to see her and without actually asking her out. He had enjoyed their last dinner to the point that he had trouble dating any more. Every time he had gone out with a woman after that night in Baltimore, he had compared it with the easygoing conversation he had had with Ellie. He couldn't find anyone to match the chemistry he had felt with her. He ended up going home alone every night. Soon, he had stopped dating all together.

John took solace in the memory of the only other party they had both attended. He remembered that she had looked nice. No more than that. She had been a perfect lady throughout the evening and he had not felt anything else. Except perhaps a twinge of envy that she had granted Leo McGarry a dance with her, while he had been denied the pleasure. Pleasure? He had just thought of Ellie and pleasure in the same sentence. That was not a good sign.

No. This was going to work. He was going to see her again and all the dreams would disappear. He was going to see her in a very public place and she was going to look nice. No more than nice.

It was going to work.

It had to work.

He tried to stop the image of another Ellie surfacing from his dreams. There was only one Ellie. His friend, his good friend, Ellie Bartlet.


_______________________________________


She was coming towards him smiling. He had been aware of her presence before she had even noticed him. He had felt her in that room from the moment she had entered.

"There you are," she said.

"Hello. How are you?"

"Were you hiding?" she asked, smiling.

"It's not polite to answer a question with another question."

"Really? Let me tell you a secret."

Her last words had been no louder than a whisper. He leaned in to listen better. Did she flinch? No. He was imagining things.

"I'm not striving to be perfect tonight. If you expect to see me polite and reserved, you're in for a surprise. We're not in Washington any more."

He wished she had told him that before he had made up his mind to come to the damn party. Now he wished he hadn't come at all. Because she didn't just look 'nice'. He couldn't say precisely what was different, but she was not the same person he had seen at the Ambassadors' Dinner, nor the one he had met for lunch a month ago. This Ellie was tempting him with every move she made. Her words no longer bounced off him in light banter; they slid directly into the pit of his stomach and downwards. Her dress, though perfectly respectable, made him think about the body it was covering. The dress in itself was nothing outrageous, and yet he couldn't help wishing to see it slide off her.

John felt his mouth dry and realized he had not replied.

"Would you like to dance?"

He regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. He was so angry at his foolishness that he barely registered her hesitation before she had accepted. Luckily for him, the song was half over when they reached the dance floor and he had only about two minutes to have her in his arms. Ellie was chatting playfully, exempting him from the arduous search for an appropriate topic. She engaged him in an easy conversation about the slow baseball season in which he participated mechanically, with ready-made phrases and small, well-placed exclamations.

As soon as the dance was over he blathered the first excuse that came to mind and left the ballroom. He soon reached an empty terrace on the other side of the building. He paced nervously up and down, trying to clear his mind. The conclusion did not require deep concentration: he was attracted to Ellie. He realized he could hardly be surprised, considering his insatiable libido. He had not changed, after all. He was still the same sex-driven John Hoynes he had always been.

He had to leave. He would call her later with some watertight excuse, and then never call her again.

He was turning to leave when Ellie came on the terrace.

"This is a great night," she remarked, looking at the stars.

He swallowed a knot, watching as her skin became silvery blue in the moonlight. Her dress seemed to have faded away and John had the feeling that she was naked.

"It's cold," he said and took off his jacket to put it over her shoulders.

Everything happened at once. He breathed in her perfume; he felt her body shivering beneath his hands; she turned her head to say something. John bowed his head without thinking, and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. He felt her drawing back instinctively, but he couldn't stop. He leaned over again covering the small distance between their mouths in a swift move. This time Ellie didn't back away. He watched her eyes closing as she let herself be swept away by the whirlwind.

The kiss ended just as unexpectedly as it had started. Ellie stepped away and he watched her trying to find a way to cope with the incident. He cursed himself for giving in to temptation.