A/N: Hello again, sweet people! I'm so glad that some of you have reviewed and let me know what you thought of this story. I have some extra time this weekend (even though I should be writing for school!), so I went ahead and was able to write chapter 2 this evening. Thanks for welcoming me into the Madam Secretary fan club!

June 15, 2022 | Henry

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a yellowish, blurry blob—the same blurry blob of yellowish that he's seen many mornings for the last thirty-two years of their marriage. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and blinks a few time, but it's still just a blur in front of him. He knows her beautiful face is there somewhere, so he reaches back quietly and carefully to grab his glasses from the nightstand.

Between her soft snores and his breathing, he can hear the waves crash against the shore in the background. The birds make add a nice little melody against the rhythm of the waves, creating a quiet, soothing tune for the morning.

He unfolds his glasses and slides them on his face, laying his cheek back down on his pillow. When he sees the beautiful outline of her face and all its features, he couldn't help but smile to himself, even though he was so uncomfortable. She fell asleep laying on his arm last night, and his fingers are completely numb, but he couldn't fathom moving her. For the first time in a long time, she was sleeping peacefully. Whether that was because they were in Kauai and able to relax, because she was happy, or because she hasn't had to answer work calls except one frantic ring from Jay, he didn't know. He suspected it was a mixture of all of it together, but he was happy, too, and happy to watch her finally be at peace.

His free hand was resting on her hip most of the night, and still found it there this morning underneath the sheets and against her bare skin.

"You know I still think you're hot, right?" She'd asked while crawling into bed last night, leaving her pants hanging on the footboard. Her Guns N Roses tee came just above the hem of her underwear, showing that little piece of sun-kissed skin between the two materials.

"You don't have to feel guilty." He answered, folding his book up and setting it on the nightstand. They had just talked about this again over dinner, and he said he understood. Bodies change.

She slid underneath the sheet and turned on her side, propping her head up on her hand to look at him, "Can I be honest?"

He laughed a little, taking her free hand, "Babe, I think we're way past asking that question."

"I never want to just assume," She teased, allowing a small smile to let him know she was being sarcastic. She shrugged her shoulders up around her ears and looked down at the sheets between them, "Being the President is a job that I would never trade," She started, tracing her thumb around his knuckles, "But it's taken a lot out of me, especially these last few months. Aside from just the fact that I'm getting older, and everything hormonally is changing, and some things even physically are changing, it's been exhausting." She said.

He sighed a little too loudly, "I understand," He replied, giving her hand a good squeeze, "I'm glad you took that leap and are running this country. I truly don't think I would've wanted anyone else." He stated, "Maybe Aquinas."

Following the smack he received on his forearm, they both laughed about it some more before delving into their usual small talk of the evening. When they were both laying down, and she was snug in his arms, she looked up at him tiredly and whispered, "Wake me up for the sunrise tomorrow?"

Now that he's watching her shoulders rise and fall with each little breath and tiny snore, he doesn't want to wake her. He should, since she asked, but for someone so big and powerful in every other aspect of her life, he selfishly wanted her to be small with him, fitting in his arms so nicely.

He had said yes, though, and he didn't believe in not following through. "Baby," He whispers, sliding his hand up the side of her body, dipping down from her hip and back up at her ribs, gliding over her skin to reach her shoulder, "Baby, the sun is about to rise." He says when she peaks one eye open.

She closes both eyes again, squeezing them shut before stretching out a little. "Is it?" She mumbles.

"You still want to watch the sun rise?"

"Mhm," She answers, halfway opening both eyes to meet his. Her lips curve up in that sleepy, almost childlike way that he loves, "You look extra handsome this morning." She admits.

Making his way to sit up, he was laughing and shaking his head, "You really are trying to butter me up, aren't you?" He asks, reaching his hand out to help her sit up as well.

"It's true," She replies, "I think it's the tan."

He leans in to kiss her, sliding his warm hand underneath her shirt and cupping her waist, "I could say the same thing for you, beautiful." He answers, "Now, let's go catch this sunrise before it rises without us."

When she gets out of bed, he watches her closely. He knows her morning routine almost better than he knows what the back of his hand looks like. She'll get out of bed, head to the bathroom, and afterwards she'll come back out and slide her sweatpants and robe onto her body before going back to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Usually whenever she takes the intermission to come add clothes to her body, he can sneak in and use the bathroom quickly. By the time she comes back in, he usually has just started brushing his teeth, and they continue their morning routine together.

This morning, though, she's slow to get out of the bed. She has been sitting on the edge with her feet hanging over toward the floor for a few moments now, staring down at the floorboards. He wonders what she's thinking, and why she's taking so long since he really, really has to pee, but he just watches her. He smiles to himself again when he sees the tanned skin protruding between the two materials of her shirt and underwear again, wanting to reach out and touch it.

Before he can, she finally slides the rest of the way off the bed and stumbles into the bathroom. That's odd, he thinks to himself. He wouldn't tell her this, but she looked half-dead—she was so tired. She slept so good, though…

It takes her a while in there, but when he hears the faint flush of the toilet—these walls are surprisingly thick in this house—he knows it's about to be his turn. He slides from the bed himself and pads into the bathroom. They cross paths as she's coming back out, and he leans down to give her a kiss on the forehead, "Are you still not feeling well this morning?" He asks, feeling her cheeks for good measure. They don't feel warm, and he pushes her hair away from her face before kissing her forehead once more.

She shakes her head, "I'm exhausted." She says. "I think that bug I had last month has come back, or maybe Jason brought the flu home with him from school when he was there last weekend. I don't know, but I'm looking forward to sprawling in a beach chair and watching the sun rise."

June 15, 2022 | Elizabeth

"Baby…baby, the sun is about to rise," She hears Henry's voice and peaks one eye open, stealing a quick look at him before shutting them both again.

She mumbles something, barely even comprehendible to herself, but she thinks she says, "Is it?"

He wastes no time with his reply, probably afraid she'll fall back asleep, "You still want to watch the sun rise?" He asks.

"Mhm," She mutters. With a little stretch that hopefully looked less pathetic than it felt, she opens both eyes and finds her husband staring at her with a little smile. "You look extra handsome this morning," She says, finding his face when she finally can focus her eyes. He's a little blurry, but she doesn't need glasses to know he's adoring her as she gets her body to fully wake up.

After their easy morning conversation, she sits up and sits at the edge of the bed for a minute. Trying to keep her head from spinning, her fingers dig into the sheets underneath her as she fights off a wave of nausea. Too strong to hold down, she finally gives in and stands up, making her way to the bathroom a little quicker than usual, just to find herself heaving into the toilet. This is not the morning routine I like, she thinks to herself.

Just a few weeks ago, she was in this same position, hugging the toilet bowl while she dry heaved, and dry heaved some more. Dmitri and Stevie had a stomach bug the week before that, so she concluded she had gotten it from them and simply worked from her private office for a few days until it lightened up. After that, she returned to work as usual.

As she washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror today, though, she tried to remember a time that she had been sick like this back-to-back, and could only think of one time she had caught strep one week and had a cold the next when she was twelve. Her mother had nursed her back to health quickly with both illnesses, and she was living her normal life again after about two weeks. Next thing she knew, Will had strep the next week, but lucky for him he didn't follow-up with a cold.

She was sure no one really enjoyed throwing up, but this was one thing she was such a baby about. When she was pregnant with Stevie, she threw up the first two months, but when she hit week ten, she finally stopped heaving. Jason, however, made her sick her entire pregnancy, which should have been an omen. Allison, a true middle child, was in-between bad and good sickness—it came in waves. She could handle waves, but she was still miserable.

The difference between throwing up because of pregnancy and throwing up just because you're ill, though, is huge. At the end of one miserable experience, you get a baby. At the end of this miserable experience, you get to go back to work and carry a bottle of Tums with you.

She looks up into the mirror after drying her hands, noticing the bare patch of skin that was showing underneath her tee. Fluff, she thought, noticing her stomach puffing out over the hem a little more than normal. It's just a little fluff. Chef Cindy warned her about that the last time she caught her eating regular popcorn a few weeks back.

"Ma'am, the boxed popcorn contains large amounts of butter. I was told to keep your meals lighter in calories because you informed your staff that your clothes were getting tight. They explained that you hadn't had time to run like usual," She'd explained, finding Elizabeth popping her own bag in the kitchen microwave. Elizabeth had thought that Cindy wouldn't be there that late, but apparently Cindy stays until 10:00 on nights when she's baking large amounts of goods for the next day's lunches.

Elizabeth smiled sheepishly at her, "I—yes, I appreciate that you're looking out for me, Cindy, truly." She began, trying to stay polite and innocent, "Sometimes a girl just wants her popcorn." She admitted, shifting her weight onto her other foot once she noticed that the generic chocolate syrup was on the counter beside her, trying to hide it from Cindy's view. "POTUS or not."

Cindy had already noticed, though, and went to the giant fridge. When she came back, she had a giant bottle of Hershey's, "At least use name brand." She says, plopping the bottle on the other side of Elizabeth.

She tugs her shirt down a little and begins her path out of the bathroom, stopping when Henry kisses her forehead and asks her if she's feeling unwell again. She decides not to tell him she got sick—he doesn't need to worry more than he already is. This isn't just a vacation for herself to relax, but Henry has had a lot of added stress, too. He needs it as much as she does.

When he slides into the bathroom, she opens the sliding-glass door to the balcony. She looks down to see secret service agents below, guarding the entire perimeter of the house. That's one sight that is just weird to get used to, even after almost a decade of always having a security detail of various sizes. She makes her way into the patio chair, tightening her robe around her. The breeze is already strong this morning and there's a little chill in the air.

As she sits and listens to the waves crashing, unable to completely see the lines of the water versus sand still with the sun just barely beginning to light the sky, she leans back and lets her head fall over to one shoulder.

She catches a glimpse of the outline of the two chairs on the beach that they left yesterday, where they had chosen to lay down on towels instead. The memory of him asking her about more kids pops in her mind and makes her snort a little, closing her eyes to imagine it more vividly.

"Is this your way of asking for more kids?"

"God, no." She says, her shoulders jutting as she laughs, "At fifty-two—going on fifty-three—I think that deserves a hell no, buddy." She laughs a little more and adds, "Besides, the whole country is like my baby right now. I think I have enough on my plate."

Her mind drifts from that recent, two-days-ago memory all the way back to one from the year 2000.

Sitting on a stool next to Henry, they both were scrubbing a spot on the wall that was about a foot long where Allison had dragged a crayon, marking the white with a shade of Robin's Egg Blue.

Henry looked over to Elizabeth and laughed after a few moments of total silence, "You ever notice how when it gets quiet, you suddenly start to worry what your kids are doing?" He asked.

"Yes," She replied quickly. She was thinking the exact same thing. "And it's quiet. Even though I know they're supposedly napping, it still scares me." She admitted. "I'm just glad she decided to do this before Thanksgiving Day and not during," She stated, "With Maureen coming over tomorrow and the whole family, you know we'd get a lecture about child-raising and who should be watching her better during art time." She chided.

Laughing, he replied, "I agree totally."

After scrubbing the last little bit off her portion of the wall, she looked over to see Henry also scrubbing the last marks off his side. "Henry," She said, suddenly sounding serious.

The tone of her voice was enough to make him stop immediately and look over at her, "What's up, babe?"

She set her rag down in the bucket and sighed, "I know we're cleaning up a mess from child two, but," She paused and looked over at him, pressing her lips together and raising her brow, "But I really want to plan for child three."

He set his rag down into the bucket as well, scooting his stool closer to her, "What made you change your mind?" He asked, referring to the time over the summer that they had talked about it.

She shrugged and shook her head, "Something in me just said now's the time, and that two isn't enough. We need one to complete our little family." She stated. "And before you say anything, yeah, I know this will be the first one we actually planned." She reminded.

With Stevie, they had been holding off until Henry was not deployed as frequently, but it apparently happened one of nights while he was on leave for the holidays. Although the timing was rocky, they couldn't have been happier. Allison was also nothing short of a surprise, one they had been completely blindsided by. Elizabeth had been working in a new position at the CIA and had very little time for anything else, and Henry was putting the finishing touches on his first book. Allison came at such a busy time that Elizabeth and Henry both had to "pencil in" when they would look at a pregnancy test together.

After a moment's silence, she added, "Who likes even numbers anyway? Two kids equals a family of four. Let's turn this square into a pentagon."

Immediately, the seriousness of the moment turned into the two of them laughing at her nerdiness. "God, I love it when you talk all math-nerd to me." He said, kissing her on the forehead. "You want to start working on baby three now…or…?"

She winked at him and stood up, grabbing the handle on the bucket, "Come on." She whispered, "The kids are asleep anyway."

She's pulled away from her memory by a pair of strong hands rubbing the knots out of her neck. "I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna miss the sun rise," She murmured.

He laughs a little and shakes his head, sitting down in the chair opposite her. He pulls her feet into his lap and starts the massage, "You know how some mornings you just get lost in thought?" He asks.

"That's where I was before you came out here—lost in thought."

He nods, rubbing the arch of her foot and receiving a little moan from her out of that motion. Silence comes over both of them, and the sun begins to peak over the horizon. "Elizabeth," He starts, looking down at his hands working on her feet, "I have something to ask you, but you have to promise to not be mad at me."

She snorts, "That's a good way to end up on the couch."

He laughs a little in return, "No, babe, I'm serious." He says.

With that tone, she sits up in her chair and shifts her gaze away from the sunrise and over to meet his face. When she looks at him, he lifts his eyes up to meet hers, and her stomach sinks. He starts to open his mouth and she closes her eyes, shaking her head, "I think I know what you're going to ask, and I'm asking myself the same thing, but really believing it can't be true."

He lets out a relieved sigh, adding more focus back into working on her arches, "So you noticed the changes, too." He confirms.

She nods, turning back to the water and the sun, "Yeah."

They both shift their gazes to the sunrise, and Elizabeth stands up and comes over to sit in his lap. "We're too old for this," She whispers. She wants to cry, she feels it brewing in her chest first, and then in her throat.

"Sarah and Abraham—"

"Don't start." She breathes. "I'm serious. There's so much going on in our lives and, I mean, our kids are grown adults. Our baby just finished college."

Now that the sun was a perfect circle over the sea, Henry looks at Elizabeth's face and pushes her hair back, "I think our baby might not be our baby anymore." He says softly, his own voice shaking a little more than she wanted to believe.

"I think you might be right." She admits, noticing her own voice was even more shaky than his.