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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.
"And Moses went up from the plains of Moab unto the mountain of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over
against Jericho. And the Lord showed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan,... And the Lord said unto him, This
is the land which I swore unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it unto thy seed. I have
caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over there... . And Joshua, the son of Nun, was full of
the Spirit of wisdom; for Moses had laid his hands upon him."
Deuteronomy 34:1, 4, 9
My early dissension about the use of military assets had caused the President to limit my wartime responsibilities
primarily to domestic defense-which suited me just fine. From the beginning, a military response seemed like a
dead end. So I contented myself with the White House and the Office of Homeland Security-keeping up with the
war just in case Leo needed a pinch hitter. I never expected to get in the game.
After you've worked in the White House for a while, you become accustomed to the break-neck pace. You
become so acclimated that a "slow" day not only is a welcome relief, but the occasion of dread, like the eery
stillness before a wild summer storm (okay, I'm channeling Sam again). Since Donna was still on family leave
from our fourth baby, I'd planned to leave early and had slipped by Leo's office to say goodnight. It was empty.
"He had a meeting away from the building," Margaret explained despite my lack of request for explanation.
"Okay," I said. "Good night." I turned to leave, but something about her made me face her again.
"What kind of meeting?"
"An outside the building kind of meeting," Margaret replied hastily.
"A good meeting or a bad meeting?"
She paled.
"Margaret, please don't make me play twenty questions. Where's Leo?"
She dipped her head and murmured so I lifted her chin. "He's sick, Josh."
"With what?"
She merely shook her head.
"Is he at home?"
She nodded. I patted her hand then bounded to my car. A kaleidoscopic nightmare of possibilities flashed
through my mind during the short drive to his hotel. Even more entertained me during the elevator ride.
Leo's gonna be pissed, I thought as I walked down the carpeted hall. He hates for anyone to know his private
affairs. Let him be pissed, I rapped my knuckles on the door. Jordan answered. Her face was drawn, long-term
weariness blackening her eye sockets.
"Hey," I greeted, not waiting for an invitation to step inside.
"Hi," she grasped my hands in hers, tears filling her red eyes.
I pulled her into my arms, silently waiting for her sobbing to abate while trying to prevent my own tears. After
several minutes the shaking stopped and she pulled back to arm's length, pasting a look of false bravado on her
face. "He won't want you to see him like this."
"I've already seen him like this, Jordan. Last time it was from a bottle."
She hung her head. "I almost wish it were that."
"Me, too," I agreed. "You look like you could use some air." She began shaking her head while I let my suit
coat slip down my arms then tossed it on the nearest chair with my backpack. "Get out for a while, I'll stay."
"But, Donna," Jordan protested, "you have a family to take care of..."
"I am taking care of my family," I corrected. "If you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of him.
Take a little time for yourself."
Reluctantly, she nodded, then let herself out. Donna's voice burned the phone connection at first, but a brief
explanation silenced her. I pulled off my tie, rolled up my sleeves and sat down with my files while listening for
sounds from the bedroom. For half an hour or so, there was fitful snoring, then was replaced by the ragged sound
of retching. With a sigh of resignation, I packed stepped into the bathroom and moistened a washrag with cold
water, draping it over the back of Leo's neck while rubbing his back. Eventually, he collapsed back against the
bathtub and dragged the wet rag down his pallid face.
"Better?" I spoke for the first time and his eyes popped wide.
"Where's Jordan? Get out."
"She's taking a break," I explained, flushing the toilet before settling myself on the floor leaning against the
vanity one arm dangling from a propped-up knee.
"I don't want you here."
"You need me here."
Leo reddened slightly. "I need you in the White House."
"You have me there, too."
"Do I?" he blanched and retched again.
I held him steady until he calmed again, then rinsed the rag and wiped his face while he slumped against the tub.
"It isn't booze or pills," he confessed but my heart had already guessed. "It 's cancer-- stage three oat-cell
carcinoma."
He held out the rag and I stood and held it under the cold water. "Where?" I asked as I wrung out the cloth and
held it out to him then, still standing, leaned against the sink.
His hand trembled as he took the cloth and wiped his neck. "Brain and spine."
"Are you in pain?"
His eyes met mine and I could see him wondering just how much to say. "Yes."
"Does Mallory know?" To his headshake I replied. "You should tell her; you owe her that."
He held out his hand and I tugged him to his feet. He was so light, and his sweat-soaked pajamas clung to his
wasted frame. How could I have missed this?
"Did they give you something for the nausea?"
He leaned against me while he staggered to the bed, waving at the collection of pill bottles. I lowered him gently
then rifled the drawers for another set of pajamas, which I lay next to him. "Icewater?"
He nodded and I left him to change while I fixed his glass. When I returned he'd leaned back against a pile of
pillows at the head of the bed. I searched through the amber vials, picking up two. "Phenergan for nausea.
That's what they gave my Dad."
He sat up and I poured the recommended dose into his palm and he washed it down with a sip of the cold water,
wincing as he swallowed. I poured the pain dosage into his palm and he smiled ruefully. "Do you know how
hard I had to work to get off of these?" Then he chased them with the water before easing back onto the pillows.
I pulled a chair to the bedside after turning off the bathroom and overhead light. He reached for the book on his
night stand and I picked it up, handing him his glasses.
"Nixon's Ten Commandments of Statecraft." I crooked my eyebrow at him while proffering the slim volume.
"Going over to the dark side on us, Leo?"
"Nah," he waved me to the chair. "Just had an idea." Laying his book on his chest, he regarded me over the
frames of his glasses. "Are you really with me? Even if it means getting mixed up in the war?"
"Yeah," I replied without hesitation. "What do you need?"
"I need Joshua Lyman and all the passion and tenacity he brings with him," he said gently. "I need you to finish
it for me."
His eyes closed and I leaned over him, placing my splayed hand over his heart. "Whatever you need," I
promised.
He shuddered and his eyes popped open, searching my face. "Why are you doing this?"
I shrugged, "I serve at the pleasure of the President."
"No," he corrected, covering my hand with his. "This."
"Because," a lone tear betrayed me. "Because this is what sons do for old friends of their fathers."
He nodded, then his eyes fell shut and soon he was snoring lightly. I returned to my files in the sitting room, then,
after Jordan's return, went home. Setting my backpack on the table, I worked my way through the house, kissing
each sleeping child before relaxing in a scalding shower. Sliding into our bed, I curled myself around my wife,
who curled her arms around mine, then cried myself to sleep.
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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