Elizabeth descends the stairs in one of her newer Peter Frampton t-shirts, her grey striped pajama bottoms, and her notorious clogs. She, and Alison locate the rest of the troop lounging in front of the television on various pieces of furniture. Henry greets her entrance to the room with a smile. She subtly motions to the TV, which he promptly flips off.
"Good morning my beautiful family," Bess lays it on thick.
Jason groans, "Can we make this quick? We were in the middle of watching this really brutal episode of Top Chef."
"I will be brief," she shifts into an authoritarian tone often used to address the gaggle.
"We are all ears," Stevie confirms.
"I simply want to announce that Jason's stint as the youngest McCord is abruptly, and unexpectedly coming to a screeching halt in a few short months."
The room falls silent for several seconds. Jason finally strings together an intelligible response.
"Wait, what?!"
"Despite frequent reminders from the nursing staff at my OB/GYN's office about my advanced maternal age, I do find myself rather inconvenienced on a regular basis by a typical, yet unanticipated late in life pregnancy."
Stevie rolls her eyes, "Alison put this up to you, didn't she?"
"She had nothing to do with this. Your father is the only one to blame here."
"Mom! This isn't funny," Jason growls.
Elizabeth rolls up the hem of her loose fitting t-shirt shirt to reveal her clearly inhabited womb.
"I'm not joking."
Russell Jackson is notably absent as Elizabeth strolls into the oval office casually dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that low-key Saturday afternoon. As the door closes the secretary's anxiety rises. President Dalton sits on the blue velvet couch waiting for Elizabeth to lob a grenade into his lap.
"Have a seat, Bess."
Her body practically hovers over the surface of the couch.
"I apologize for the cloak and dagger routine," Elizabeth begins.
"Just launch the grenade, Elizabeth."
"I fear that my tenure as Secretary of State is drawing to an end."
He furrows his brow, "We have only just begun."
"Unexpected circumstances lead me to question my ability to carry out my duties."
"Are you ill?"
"No. I just unexpectedly find myself expecting."
He furrows his brow, "You're pregnant? That is unexpected! Congratulations."
"We're not out of the woods yet, Conrad."
"Are we approaching a clearing?"
"You are aware of the previous…"
"Just tell me what you need."
"I lack confidence that this will end serendipitously. That has been my main reservation for telling anyone. My last…" she trails off.
"Give me a sit-rep."
"I am approaching the third trimester soon. Despite what appears to be a totally typical pregnancy my physician is recommending that I take leave well before the anticipated date of arrival in an effort to reduce stress. In all honesty I'm not ready to give up the work. Especially when I don't know that this will end in anything other than heartbreak. On the other hand if it does it seems reasonably prudent for me to tender my resignation."
"Take your leave as planned. You are entitled to time off. Do not act in haste on the matter I am certain that we can iron out pertinent details as they arise."
It's growing late, and patience is wearing thin as the room of diplomats tugs at the collars, and fidgets in their chairs awaiting an epiphany. A glance at her watch, and a summersault within her womb remind her of the late hour. She clears her throat.
"Everyone go home. We are not going to remedy this pre-apocalyptic crisis at this hour. Everyone needs to turn in for some shut eye. It is not negotiable."
"Noted," Matt nods making his beeline from the room before she changes her mind.
Blake presents her with her bag, and begins to lead her to the elevator. Daisy winks at him.
"I will usher her to the garage, Blake. I have yet to lose her."
Blake offers a subtle nod, and carries on his way. Madam Secretary taps her toe as the pair of them wait for the next elevator. Finally the doors open, and they embark on the journey to the garage.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes, Daisy?"
"How long are we going to dance around this? You know the elephant we all know is… gestating that we aren't allowed to discuss or reference, or mention in anyway?"
"Soon enough," Elizabeth glances at her calendar, "My calendar indicates that I am off the schedule after this week."
"You've said that every week for a month."
"I am very persuasive."
Daisy furrows her brow, "With your progeny, or physician?"
"Apparently, both."
"When exactly are you planning on breathing easy about this?"
"I will let you know when I find out."
She ventures off the elevator, and is escorted to her motorcade by her team. When they pull up to her residence she hesitates in the care for what seems like an eternity. A member of her detail opens the door and tosses a questioning look in her direction.
"You seem less, and less enthusiastic to face your family each night."
"I can't help but ask myself every night if it is the one where I am totally ambushed."
"Probably, but waiting in the car won't stop it."
"You're just saying that because you want to go home."
"Out you go," he motions.