Reconnecting (CiC, Becca/Jo).
Title: Reconnecting.
Fandom: Commander In Chief.
Pairing: Becca/Jo, pre-slashy.
Author Note: I've never tried writing Becca/Joan before but they're my super sekrit OTP for CiC :) Hopefully I'll get the hang of them with practice. 960 words, set mid-S1.
Becca's left seven messages already and she's almost abandoned hope. It took a lot of effort to track down a phone number for Joan but she figured it'd be worth it, and it probably would be if Joan would just pick up. She's been talking to a machine for six days (Hi, you've reached Joan Greer. Leave a number and I'll call you back) and she's left the same message each time, unable to hang up without a word.
She needs to talk to Joan. It's been three weeks since she left the White House and Becca misses her way more than she thinks she's supposed to. She's confused over how she feels about everything and even though she knows that Joan's an adult, with better things to do than talk to her, she can't seem to stop calling.
She keeps replaying the memory of the last conversation they had, over and over again in her head, and it makes her feel more awful every time. She wants to tell Joan again that she's sorry - really, really sorry - and be forgiven, because it felt like Joan was kind of mad at her when she left and, even though she has every right to be angry, Becca doesn't want her to stay that way.
Joan made her feel safe on her first day back at school when the rapid-fire click, click, click of the photographers cameras sounded deafening and the flashes were blinding her over and over again. Joan was right there beside her, protecting her and convincing her she could handle it. Joan understood her, Becca thinks, and there's a thousand little things she remembers and appreciates about Joan now that she didn't then.
But more than that Becca misses her. It's that simple. She's not sure if it's appropriate or not to miss Joan as much as she does but, if it isn't, she doesn't care. She's become kind of obsessed with this 'Joan thing', at least according to Horace, but she can't help it. Joan's in her head and Becca can't get her out.
She's about to get up to find a CD to listen to when her phone rings. She has it open before it rings a second time and answers with a hopeful, "Hello?"
"Hey, Becca. It's Joan."
"Hey," Becca says and then her voice trails off. She'd kind of assumed that the right words would come to her once they started talking but here they are, talking, and she's coming up blank.
"You left messages on my machine," Joan says. "I'm sorry I couldn't call you back sooner, I was out of town."
"No, it's okay-- you know, I figured-- I figured you might just be busy. Or whatever."
Becca's starting to think she might not have thought this plan all the way through. Joan has her own life and her own plans and her own things to do; her own friends to hang out with, her own holidays to take and, presumably, her own job to fill her days. She probably doesn't need or want this complication as well.
"I'm not too busy to talk to you," Joan says. "Is everything okay?"
Joan's being nice to her, which is better than the anger she expected, but she also sounds a little confused, as though she's not entirely sure why Becca called her. Which is okay, 'cause Becca's not sure how or what to tell her.
"Becca?" Joan asks. "Are you still there?"
"No-- Yes, I'm still here," Becca says quickly. "And everything's okay. I just-- god, I must sound like such an idiot. I had to call you, I mean, I wanted to, so I could tell you again that I'm sorry. Because I am really, really sorry, and I know you're probably mad at me, and that you must hate me, but I miss you and--"
"Becca, I don't hate you," Joan says softly. "Why would you think I did?"
"Because I got you fired!" Becca says, the beginnings of tears stinging her eyes. "It was all my fault and I didn't mean to, but my dad wouldn't listen."
"It wasn't all your fault," Joan says firmly. "It was my fault. I should have known better. It was my job to know better because you could have been hurt. When we talked that day... I was upset I lost my job, but I've never hated you."
"Really?" Becca asks doubtfully.
"Really," Joan confirms. "And I miss you too, you know."
Becca smiles. "Do you, um-- do you miss me enough that you'd come and meet me? For, like, coffee or something?"
"I'm not sure your parents are going to think that's a good idea."
"I don't care what they think," Becca says stubbornly. "I want to see you."
"I care," Joan says. "Your mother runs the country, Becca, I don't want to piss her off."
"You won't, it'll be fine," Becca assures her. "C'mon, Jo, please?"
Joan sighs and Becca smiles because that means she's won.
"I guess I could meet you after school," Joan says finally. "We can get coffee and talk."
"On Wednesday?" Becca suggests. "At four? We could meet at that coffee place we always went to, I can't remember what it's called."
"Four o'clock, Wednesday, at the coffee place," Joan repeats. "Okay, sure."
They say their good bye's then because Joan still has a list of calls to return and Becca has homework to do, but instead of doing it she sits there and daydreams about Wednesday.
It's only forty eight hours away but those forty eight hours feel like they're going to last forever.
Fandom: Commander In Chief.
Pairing: Becca/Jo, pre-slashy.
Author Note: I've never tried writing Becca/Joan before but they're my super sekrit OTP for CiC :) Hopefully I'll get the hang of them with practice. 960 words, set mid-S1.
Becca's left seven messages already and she's almost abandoned hope. It took a lot of effort to track down a phone number for Joan but she figured it'd be worth it, and it probably would be if Joan would just pick up. She's been talking to a machine for six days (Hi, you've reached Joan Greer. Leave a number and I'll call you back) and she's left the same message each time, unable to hang up without a word.
She needs to talk to Joan. It's been three weeks since she left the White House and Becca misses her way more than she thinks she's supposed to. She's confused over how she feels about everything and even though she knows that Joan's an adult, with better things to do than talk to her, she can't seem to stop calling.
She keeps replaying the memory of the last conversation they had, over and over again in her head, and it makes her feel more awful every time. She wants to tell Joan again that she's sorry - really, really sorry - and be forgiven, because it felt like Joan was kind of mad at her when she left and, even though she has every right to be angry, Becca doesn't want her to stay that way.
Joan made her feel safe on her first day back at school when the rapid-fire click, click, click of the photographers cameras sounded deafening and the flashes were blinding her over and over again. Joan was right there beside her, protecting her and convincing her she could handle it. Joan understood her, Becca thinks, and there's a thousand little things she remembers and appreciates about Joan now that she didn't then.
But more than that Becca misses her. It's that simple. She's not sure if it's appropriate or not to miss Joan as much as she does but, if it isn't, she doesn't care. She's become kind of obsessed with this 'Joan thing', at least according to Horace, but she can't help it. Joan's in her head and Becca can't get her out.
She's about to get up to find a CD to listen to when her phone rings. She has it open before it rings a second time and answers with a hopeful, "Hello?"
"Hey, Becca. It's Joan."
"Hey," Becca says and then her voice trails off. She'd kind of assumed that the right words would come to her once they started talking but here they are, talking, and she's coming up blank.
"You left messages on my machine," Joan says. "I'm sorry I couldn't call you back sooner, I was out of town."
"No, it's okay-- you know, I figured-- I figured you might just be busy. Or whatever."
Becca's starting to think she might not have thought this plan all the way through. Joan has her own life and her own plans and her own things to do; her own friends to hang out with, her own holidays to take and, presumably, her own job to fill her days. She probably doesn't need or want this complication as well.
"I'm not too busy to talk to you," Joan says. "Is everything okay?"
Joan's being nice to her, which is better than the anger she expected, but she also sounds a little confused, as though she's not entirely sure why Becca called her. Which is okay, 'cause Becca's not sure how or what to tell her.
"Becca?" Joan asks. "Are you still there?"
"No-- Yes, I'm still here," Becca says quickly. "And everything's okay. I just-- god, I must sound like such an idiot. I had to call you, I mean, I wanted to, so I could tell you again that I'm sorry. Because I am really, really sorry, and I know you're probably mad at me, and that you must hate me, but I miss you and--"
"Becca, I don't hate you," Joan says softly. "Why would you think I did?"
"Because I got you fired!" Becca says, the beginnings of tears stinging her eyes. "It was all my fault and I didn't mean to, but my dad wouldn't listen."
"It wasn't all your fault," Joan says firmly. "It was my fault. I should have known better. It was my job to know better because you could have been hurt. When we talked that day... I was upset I lost my job, but I've never hated you."
"Really?" Becca asks doubtfully.
"Really," Joan confirms. "And I miss you too, you know."
Becca smiles. "Do you, um-- do you miss me enough that you'd come and meet me? For, like, coffee or something?"
"I'm not sure your parents are going to think that's a good idea."
"I don't care what they think," Becca says stubbornly. "I want to see you."
"I care," Joan says. "Your mother runs the country, Becca, I don't want to piss her off."
"You won't, it'll be fine," Becca assures her. "C'mon, Jo, please?"
Joan sighs and Becca smiles because that means she's won.
"I guess I could meet you after school," Joan says finally. "We can get coffee and talk."
"On Wednesday?" Becca suggests. "At four? We could meet at that coffee place we always went to, I can't remember what it's called."
"Four o'clock, Wednesday, at the coffee place," Joan repeats. "Okay, sure."
They say their good bye's then because Joan still has a list of calls to return and Becca has homework to do, but instead of doing it she sits there and daydreams about Wednesday.
It's only forty eight hours away but those forty eight hours feel like they're going to last forever.