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Analecta
by: N. Y. Smith
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Category: AU (very), Josh/Donna Romance, Josh POV, Angst,
Spoilers: Through Season Three
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Contains references to 9/11/2001. Amy-free universe.
The first half of 2002 was mostly a blur. Between my duties at Leo's Deputy, campaigning and my travels on
behalf of the Office of Homeland Security, it seemed like my firstborn son would have, upon birth, more frequent
flyer mileage than most CEOs. First born son? Yeah. After spending Christmas, the New Year and Epiphany in
the hospital with Sam, we really didn't have the energy to keep up the subterfuge. Mother Nature took care of
the announcement when, seemingly overnight on a trip to Iowa for the caucuses, Donna "blossomed." Her eyes
grew round as buttons, hooks and zippers that had closed easily only a few days before suddenly refused to even
meet.
"What can I do?" she gasped. "Senior Staff's in five minutes and stores won't open for another four hours!"
We stared dumbly at each other for several minutes before exclaiming, as if we had one mind, "CJ!"
I had no sooner finished a brief explanation of the situation than came a knock at the door; I could have sworn I
could almost feel the heat of her anger through the heavy wood. I should have known better.
She tossed a token, "Idiot," in my direction before dragging my wife down the hall and disappearing into the
Presidential Suite. Tie askew, I gathered my notebooks and followed, settling uncomfortably on the sofa for
Senior Staff. With one ear to the meeting and one eye on the bedroom door, I endured Toby's smirks, Sam's
long-distance-speakerphone witticisms (he hadn't returned to work) and Leo and Bruno's glares until, like Fairy
Godmothers, CJ and the First Lady ushered my wife into the room.
She was breathtaking.
She wore a pair of Lily Mays' sensibly fashionable shoes, and CJ's gray flannel skirt covered by my last white
dress shirt, worn untucked-apparently "clothing elf" had suddenly been included in the duties of the protective
detail. Her hair was pulled back off of her face and a scarf I recognized as the First Lady's draped her neck.
My eyes met hers and she blushed, her left hand-ring gleaming-resting tentatively on the cause of all the couture
chaos.
"I'm fat," she protested.
"You're beautiful," I murmured and her color deepened.
"I'm scared," she confessed.
I stepped in front of her and covered her hand with mine. "I'm not." I folded her into my embrace, both of our
tears dotting the shoulder of my purloined shirt. After a moment we released each other, glancing sheepishly at
our cohorts. "We're pregnant."
"We're screwed," Gianelli moaned.
"Well, we're excited," the President corrected. "Aren't we, friends?"
"Overjoyed," Toby feigned indifference but a grin lifted the corners of his beard.
"Tickled pink," CJ agreed, again failing to display true consternation, "or blue-as the case may be."
"You're all insane," Bruno's tirade withered under Leo's glare.
"He's just mad because you figured out a way to have a life despite his best efforts," Leo grinned.
"Congratulations to you both."
And that was that. The meeting concluded; we were back to business as usual. Well, almost usual-there was
nothing usual about the wistful, covetous looks CJ would direct at Donna. Only then did I understand that she,
too, had paid a terrible price for her service.
Aboard Air Force One after our slim victory in the Iowa Caucuses, I accidentally overheard a telephone
conversation CJ held while sitting on the metal staircase between cabins.
"Is your offer still open?" she said fearfully, phone jammed against her ear while scraping a fingernail against a
tread. Here, in the corridor, the engine roar was the only sound for several minutes. "Then my answer is yes." I
could hear the smile in her voice and hoped I correctly guessed the questioner and the question. She didn't return
to the White House after we landed that evening. With a shy wave to us, she hopped into a waiting car. The last
of our little coterie of emotional eunuchs had ventured outside the palace walls. It was about time.
Chapters -
Prologue | 1 | 2 |
3 | 4 | 5 |
6 | 7 | 8 |
9 | 10 | 11 |
12 | 13 | 14 |
15 | 16 | 17 |
18 | 19 | 20 |
21 | 22 | 23
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