Wakeful in Washington...

I’m slowly and blissfully sinking into much-needed, well-deserved sleep, with Josh’s arms around my waist, as became our custom years ago. The nearness of him never gets old, not even now that we’ve been together longer than we were, well, not.

“Daddy.”

Her first word ever. And since then, ever her first word.

“Daddy.”

Maybe her devotion to him is something she picked up from me, in which case there definitely shouldn’t be that slight pinching feeling around my heart when she always calls for him first. But...

She’s louder, more insistent this time. “Daddy. I can’t sleep.”

Josh untangles himself from me, running his hand down my arm to underline his reluctance at leaving me. That doesn’t get old either. Even in half-asleep states such as this one, I know awide grin is creeping across my face. I smile a lot these days. There’s worry, of course, arguments sometimes, there are sleepless nights not always for the right reasons, and there’s more time apart than I would choose, but there is a lot of smiling.

“Hey, Pumpkin.”

He scoops her up in his arms, and she wraps her arms around him, blonde curls not so much framing her bleary-eyed face as messily crowding around it, as if in her toddlerhood she had missed the edges when coloring herself in.

“You tried naming the States like I taught you?” He’s carrying her to her bedroom, putting her back in bed I guess, sliding her hair behind her ear as he loves to do with both of us.

I can imagine her earnest nodding, her wide blue eyes looking up at the only man who matters to her. (Long may that last.) “But I forgot Wisconsin and I had to look it up on that list you made for me.”

She forgot Wisconsin? How can she forget the place she spends every other Christmas and countless other holidays? I bet she didn’t forget Connecticut.

“So then I did it again and I even remembered all the M states and the New States and even Ohio and stuff, ‘cause that’s where Aunt CJ comes from even though I always forget, and Washington that’s a state even though Washington DC isn’t...”

This little girl will go far.

Or maybe not so far from here. The White House is in her blood. Her father would have the head of any boss who had her there till 1 am, no matter how charming. I shudder to think what he would do to one who bought her flowers and sabotaged her dates. He will have to be kept firmly under control. Still, I have a good few years to think of a workable strategy.

“So then I did them all and I still wasn’t asleep.”

“Did you try listing the Presidents?”

“Yeah. But it only works when we do it together.”

His dimples will be telling her that he loves being the centre of her world. So easily sweet-talked by his darling daughter. There’s a reason we called her Abigail – “father’s joy”. When he held her for the first time, he was transfixed. Imagine that – Josh Lyman, speechless. I recognised the tenderness and the wonder I saw in his eyes in a hospital on a much less happy day, years ago, miles away, when he couldn’t say “I love you”. This time he could, and he did, to both of us.

“How did we make something so beautiful?” He still often asks me that. I smile and remind him it was actually me who did most of the work.

“So I guess it’s kind of fair that she looks so much like you,” he’ll usually conclude, but every time I’m sure I detect just the slightest hint of envy in his tone.

“Not that I mind,” he’ll add, and kiss me. So it’s a conversation I really don’t mind having over and over. Another thing that never gets old. Unlike our daughter, sadly.... I want to keep her at seven forever. She’s her mother’s joy too. I hope that will not change with age.

I imagine he’s lying on her bed next to her now, as he often does, transfixed again by her loveliness and her bright mind as though discovering her for the first time, taking her little hand in his, counting off on her fingers, as they go through their routine. “George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson...”

Safely wrapped up in her daddy, Abi’s voice is drifting to the happy place of sweet dreams and turning to a whisper. She does make it to the end, though. “Uncle Jed, Uncle Matt, Uncle Sam, and you.”

Even when she’s only half-awake, she’s a pretty stubborn and determined little girl (guess it’s what you could call a dominant gene) and there is no point arguing with her.

But Josh, probably kneeling now and leaning over to brush the hair from her forehead and kiss her goodnight, does always add, “Someone’s gotta be the guy those guys count on. That’s my role.” This may be his way of letting her down gently, but I think perhaps it’s a little subtle for a seven-year-old. Still, at least she won’t be able to claim in later life he didn’t warn her.

“Good night, Princess.”

“Good night, daddy.”

He walks away, probably backwards – yes, definitely backwards, I hear a muffled “ouch” as he bumped into the wall behind him – so he can steal as much of a glance of her as possible. I wonder, did he ever do that with me?

“Daddy?” Her sleepy voice calls him back.

“You’re my favorite President.”

Out, I assume, come the dimples as his smile, his whole self, expand with pride. This isn't part of the routine. This is straight from the heart.

“Hey.” He climbs back into bed, strokes my leg with his foot, treasuring the closeness that never gets old to him either.

“Hey,” I say, as tenderly as I can because there’s something I want to clear up and I don’t want it to sound like a rebuke when I do. “You’re not going to become President just because your daughter asked you to, are you?” I’m hoping my voice doesn’t betray my increased heart rate. This question has actually been wandering around my subconscious for quite a long time now, and not only my subconscious: Helen and I have a lunch planned. You know, just... in case. I want to be ready. You never know, do you?

“There are worse reasons,” he whispers softly in my ear, then nuzzles into my neck, kissing me gently.

I love it when he does this. He knows it, too. “Josh.”

"Mmmm?"

“You’ll always be my favorite President, too.”

That discussion can wait. Come to think of it, so can sleep.

Scene from Episode #906: New beginnings

In hospital. Donna is in bed, holidng the baby, and Josh is sitting on the bed, talking to her.

Sam walks in.

DONNA: Hey, Sam (smiling). Come meet your new godson.
SAM: (grinning back) Leo Noah.
JOSH: Yep. Named after the two most influential men in my life.
SAM: And I don’t figure on that list?
JOSH: We’ll name the next one after you.
DONNA: (incredulously) The next one?
JOSH: He’s so amazing. We need to have hundreds more like him.
DONNA: I’m sorry, Josh, were you not in the room last night?
JOSH: Well, erm...
DONNA: Apart from the brief instant when you passed out, obviously.

(Sam laughs, and looks at Josh disbelievingly, if that’s a word.)

JOSH: Point taken. Maybe not another one just yet.
DONNA: You're right, though. I mean, look at him. If it wasn’t for the pain... he’s even got your receeding hairline.
JOSH: (smiles at her) As long as everything else is from you, we’ll be fine.
SAM: (somewhat unsure, but wanting to change the subject before more soppy talk starts up...) Okay, so do I get to hold him then?
DONNA: If you promise to be careful. (pointedly) More careful, say, than you might be with a girl’s heart.
SAM: Hey! You can’t still be mad at me about Mallory.

Donna looks at him in a way that indicates that she most certainly can.

Sam leans over to take baby Leo.

SAM: Erm... Josh, help me out here.

Josh walks over, carefully and lovingly takes baby Leo, gives him to Sam and shows him how to hold him.

JOSH: So you put your arm under his head, like this...
SAM: (to baby Leo) Hey there, little fella. I’m your uncle Sam... (to Josh and Donna)I gotta say, I think I may be getting a bit broody looking at him. You guys have done some good work.
JOSH: (beaming) Thanks.
DONNA: (pointedly) Josh?
JOSH: I mean obviously the work was all Donna’s. My role was, erm, minimal. But isn’t he amazing?
DONNA: (pointedly) Josh?
JOSH: But obviously not as amazing as Donna, who did all this work.
SAM: I see there is effective training going on in the Lyman household.
DONNA: I can still revoke your godfather’s title, you know.
JOSH: (to Sam) Not single-handedly, she can’t.
DONNA: (keen to change the subject) Anyway, Sam – how are you? How are the French lessons?
SAM: Oh, erm.... fine. Yeah, fine.
DONNA: (thinking she has interpreted his answer, and getting ready to scold him)You’ve not been going, have you?
JOSH: Oh yes. He’s been going all right. Even getting a bit of, erm (wry smile), extra tuition.
DONNA: Oh? (punches Josh in the arm) How do I not know about this?
SAM: Well it’s... hot off the press, so to speak.
JOSH: Actually, we’re trying to keep it out of the press as much as possible... Anyway, last night didn’t seem quite the right time to tell you.
DONNA: Might have been a nice distraction. Though I gotta tell you, if it’s distraction you’re after, that gas and air thing...pretty decent.

They laugh, and fade out sound/picture as they talk and laugh.

Epiosde #906

Josh is sitting by Donna’s hospital bed, holding her hand. He has a large plaster on his forehead and various bruises.

(Pause and breathe a sigh of relief – please tell me you didn’t actually think I was going to kill him off!!)

JOSH: (stroking her forehead) How are you doing?
DONNA: (smiles up at him). Pretty well, considering. What happened to the car, anyway?
JOSH: I left it wrapped around the lamppost and got a taxi. I wasn’t going to faff around with that crap while my wife gave birth to our son.
DONNA: (exasperated but too emotional to care that much.) Oh, Joshua. Wait - how do you know it’s a boy?
JOSH: I have a sense about these things...
DONNA: You know it in your heart? (Josh nods) Do you know how many things I’ve been wrong about in my heart?
JOSH: (softly) You weren’t wrong about us.
DONNA: No. But it sure as hell felt like it for a very long time.
JOSH: Are you ever going to let me forget that?
DONNA: Nine years, Josh. That’s all I’m sayin’.

He kisses her forehead.

JOSH: I promise I’ll make it up to you.
DONNA: So you keep saying. Just get me through the next twenty-four hours, that’ll be a good start.
JOSH: I love you so much, you know that?
DONNA: (smiles) Also a good start.

DONNA: Josh?
JOSH: Hmmm?
DONNA: I’m scared.
JOSH : You can do this. I believe in you. You are one amazing woman.
DONNA: I’m not sure distinctive penmanship or colored index cards are going to help me now.

JOSH: Oh Donnatella. There’s so much more to you than that. God, I love you.

Donna winces as a contraction comes and that’s the last we see of that.

Author's note: We are spared the usual, ridiculous, horribly undignified labour and birth scenes. I won’t make Janel Moloney stoop to doing that - it's not like she needs to prove she can act! Someone give that woman an Emmy... she's more than earned it!!