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.

Memories of a Future Past

"I look like a character from an Austin Powers movie."

Since Christmas Sam had developed the habit of turning the injured side of his face slightly away from whomever he was talking with. It kind of hurt that he did it with me, too, but then, I hadn't gone out of my way to let him see my scar. I guess I understood.

"The young guy or the old one?" Maybe I could lighten up the mood.

"The blind one," he glared silently from the makeup chair. After recuperating for a month, Sam had returned to work after Iowa and right before New Hampshire and now, at CJ's insistence, he was appearing on "Capitol Beat" as Bartlet's point man on gun control. The makeup artist grasped his chin in a vain effort to still him while dabbing pancake along his hairline. He winced and the artist-- whose widening eyes signaled she was just now noticing the fine crimson scar that began high on the left temple, curved around behind the left ear then outlined the jaw halfway to his chin-paused, almost imperceptibly, but long enough for him to notice and bolt from the chair. "I can't do this," he hissed, turning the right side of his face toward me.

I moved my head so I was looking at his "bad" side. "You can."

"I'm a freak."

"Hey," the corners of my mouth turned up but it wasn't a smile, "you're talking to a guy with railroad tracks down the center of his chest."

His gaze met mine. "I can do this?" he whispered, finally.

"Piece of cake," I grinned and pushed him back into the chair and the artist resumed.

"I don't look like a cartoon character?"

"Nah, you look ruthless."

He fell silent, controlling his breathing, and I knew he was trying to ward off the diamond-splinter headaches that now punctuated his days. The artist replaced the eyepatch he'd be wearing until his prosthesis was finished, brushed him off and ushered him out to the green room. "Think I can take them?"

"With one eye tied behind your back."

He wheeled so quickly I almost ran into him. The first emotion that crossed his face was shock that was quickly burned away by rage that only a few of us knew he could muster. He balled his fists but I stood firm and that rage chilled to fear. I met his gaze with a broad smile and his expression warmed. "And some would say you're heartless."

I cocked an eyebrow. "So that's the reason I survived Rosslyn."

He stared at the set while a technician wired him up. "You think I can take these guys?" he swallowed hard, "half-blind and half-deaf?"

"Sam, you could take these guys half-witted."

He chuckled and slid into his seat while I slid behind the cameraman. When his time came he was the old Sam--passionate, persistent and erudite. I stood, in the background, grinning like, well, like Leo. In an instant I flashed on a future, not-too-distant, getting up from my desk, walking into that round, yellow room and saying, "Good morning, Mr. President."

The face, a weathered version of the one before me now, would look up and crack wise, "You know you don't have to call me that."

I'd lay a blue folder on the desk and reply, "I know, sir. I just like the sound of it."

The red camera light dimmed, as did my daydream, and the same technician unwired Sam before he carefully-depth perception is tricky with only one eye-stepped down off the set. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothin'," I grinned smugly, imagining for a moment the future campaign of Bartlet for America: The Next Generation-Sam Seaborn as the President and Josh Lyman as the Chief of Staff.

He strode down the hall, "'Cause you look like you figured out a way to eliminate the Republican party."

"Something like that," I slid beside him in the SUV and pulled into the traffic. "Something like that."

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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