Disclaimer: Ha. Ha. Haha. Ahaha. Ha.

A/N: This isn't the end of the fic. It is a somewhat final chapter, but I plan to stick to the original author's... uhh... plan, so it isn't the end yet. Just so you know.

A/N2: I will finish this fic, someday. I promised.

The following weeks were full of the most desperate campaigning even Josh had ever seen. The Senator shook hundreds of thousands of hands and delivered his stump speech so many times that he'd started ad-libbing and incorporating audience participation – despite Josh's firm advice to stick to the script. Annabeth, for one, seemed to find this hilarious, but she was in a good mood despite the stress of the campaign. It wasn't hard to work out why, with Leon MacBeth on her heels like a devoted puppy.

Donna and some of the others had come to a compromise of what suit and tie Simon should wear on Election Day, it was a very dark grey, so that it almost looked black, and the tie had a subtle dark blue and black diagonal stripe. Well, the campaign staff took credit, but on looking at it, Simon could tell that his husband had been pulled in to lend a hand.

"You like it?" Gordon asked, grinning as he tried it on for the first time.

Simon tugged at the cuffs, "Depends if I win," he said, smiling nervously. "If I win we can have it framed."

Gordon shrugged. "If you lose we can always burn it I guess."

"How much did it cost?"

Looking away sheepishly, Gordon refused to answer.

"If I lose we can always give it away."

Gordon mumbled something about preferring the arson idea, and wrapped his arms around Simon's waist from behind.

"Stop stressing, darling. You've done all you can."

Simon sighed and relaxed, worming his way around to gently kiss Gordon's lips.
Sophia, walking by the door, pushed it open a little to see them embracing, stated "Yuck," and decided that going to play with Pa and Daddy could wait.

…

Ray Sullivan was feeling pretty confident. Not definitely going to win confident, but the polls were in his favour. He didn't tell anyone he was feeling confident, of course, that would be a sure way to jinx the result. Still, the mood in the campaign headquarters was, panicked, yes, frantic, yes, but not quite desperate. He brushed himself down and prepared for his last television interview.

…

"How do you think the attacks affected your campaign?"

"They didn't," Sullivan answered immediately.

"Being so close to them didn't affect you?"

"Of course it affected me. It terrified me, I'll happily admit, but it also fuelled the fire of my love for America and my desire to win so that I can do right by this country. The attacks affected me, as a person, and therefore probably as a candidate, but no changes were made to my campaign."

"Bullshit," stated Donna, flicking off the TV. "You'll make yourself ill watching this stuff, Josh."

"Donnaaaaaaaaa," he whined. "Give me the remote!"

She looked at it, flipped it around in her hand, and smiled.

"Nope. It is in custody until after the election. Now come spend some quality time with the children and I. Josiah wants to play Monopoly."

"You expect me to play Monopoly the day before Election Day?"

Looking as though she were considering the question in great depth, she finally nodded.

"Yes, I do."

…

A crèche had been set up in campaign headquarters, to the amusement of most of the workers. Josiah, Beka and Sophia had been placed in a room with some unfortunate volunteers to look after them, as all of their parents were busy obsessing about exit polls and waiting for the results to come through.

True to form, Josh had holed up in his office with a TV on and a map of America on a whiteboard; it didn't matter to him that they had an interactive one on a screen in the main bullpen. Everyone had the good sense not to point this out to him, or in fact go anywhere near him.

The rest were tapping at computer keyboards, calling contacts, and generally trying to feel useful even though there was nothing left that they could do. The only exception was the Senator, sitting with a semblance of calm next to Gordon, the only sign of his nerves being that he was clutching his husband's hand so tightly that it had began to go white. Occasionally he would stand, pace into the crèche, try to play with Sophia, realise that he was too distracted, and go back to where he'd been sitting. He'd done this five times in the last half hour.

Leon was scribbling notes for an Election Day story, and Annabeth for a press conference, but they kept looking up to meet each other's eye with a shaky smile.

Like Josh, Toby was in his office, but he wasn't colouring in a map. With the TV on in the background, and the reactions of everyone else to really tell him how it was going, he was pacing back and fourth, sitting down, bouncing a rubber ball, standing up, pacing back and forth, sitting down…

CJ and Danny, wanting to be in the thick of the action, had turned up, left their child in the crèche with the exasperated volunteers, and then joined Toby in his office – he looked surprised at the company, but didn't object.

President Matt Santos was in the Oval Office with Jed Bartlet, who he'd invited to share the stressing with him. Helen had also joined them, which she had at first refused to do, but eventually given in. They were talking about what would happen if he won, what would happen if he didn't, looking with one eye at the other occupants of the room and with the other at the TV keeping them up to date.

…

"So," said Simon.

Josh, sitting on the end of his desk, looked at the now coloured map. "So," he agreed.

"I'm sorry, Josh."

The campaign manager shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Senator."

"Simon. We're not campaigning anymore, give me that much."

Josh laughed shortly. "At least I never have to do this again."

Simon Fuller laid a reassuring hand on Josh's shoulder, then silently turned to walk out the door.

Just before leaving, he looked back.

"Four years," he said, smiling. "Book it."

*lip wobbles* I wanted him to wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin. But, CatAmongPidgeons' plan and all that. *lip wobbles again*