DONNA’S POV
I look up from my laptop as Josh walks through his front door. He had the
Congressional Christmas party tonight. I didn’t go because Leo asked me if I would
meet with the psychiatrist he’s bringing in for Josh. Josh knows what I was doing and
was none too pleased.
“How was Yo Yo Ma?” I smile.
He looks a little strange. He looks like he’s preoccupied. He’s had this look about him
a lot lately.
“He was Yo Yo Ma.” Josh says quietly with a shrug. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to see
him.”
“I missed it because of something important, Josh.” I say cautiously.
“Whatever.”
“You okay?” I know the answer to this.
“Yes, Donna.” He says frustrated, running a hand through his hair.
“Doesn’t sound it.”
“If one more person asks me that, I’m going to fucking scream.” He snaps. He opens a
bottle of Scotch, pours a healthy amount into a glass and tosses it back.
Lovely.
He’s getting drunk.
Again.
I’m going to play his game though. Even though I know he’s going to be lying the
whole time.
“Everything go okay for you at the concert?”
His head snaps up to mine and he looks alarmed. “Yeah, of course. Why?” He
answers immediately like I just busted him having an affair or something.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “You just sound like you’re in a bad mood, and you weren’t
when you left. So I wasn’t sure if someone pissed you off tonight.”
“No.” he says softly and looks into his drink.
“I’m gonna go in to sleep.” I say, shutting down my laptop and rising. “You coming?” I
give what I hope is a warm, inviting and safe smile.
“In a bit.” He says not meeting my eyes.
The smile falls from my face. We won’t discuss the last time he’s touched me. He used
to find comfort in my arms. That’s not the case anymore.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
DONNA’S POV
*CRASH*
I pop up out of a dead sleep. What the hell was that? It sounded like the window
breaking. I immediately turn to Josh in bed to tell him that it sounded like someone
was breaking in, but the bed is empty.
What’s going on? I thought he was coming into bed.
“Josh?” I call out. I roll out of bed and go out into the living. What I see makes my
heart stop. When I can process cognitive thought, I gasp and he snaps his head to
me.
He’s standing in the living room by a broken window and his hand is full of blood. He
looks stunned.
“Are you all right? What happened?” I ask frantically.
“I…”
I drag him into the bathroom and shove his hand under cold water. He hisses in
surprise. There’s a banging on the door and I hear the super calling for Josh.
“I’ll get it. Stay here.”
I’m shaking as I move through the living room, which is freezing, and open the door for
Josh’s building super.
“Ms. Moss.” He greets.
“Hi, Henry.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Um, not really. Josh had a bit of an accident.”
The super moves to the window and assesses the damage. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yeah. I think Josh might need stitches though.”
“I’ll bring back some cardboard to cover the window, if you could please clean up the
glass. You can fill out a report on it in the morning.”
“Thanks, Henry.” I smile nervously and show him out, then return to the bathroom.
Josh is sitting on the edge of the bathtub with his hand wrapped in gauze. I
immediately take over from him. There’s pieces of glass in the cut.
“You have to go to the emergency room.”
“No.” he says immediately.
“Josh, this is a deep cut and there’s glass in it. You have to have it looked at by a
doctor.”
“Donna…” he pleads.
“What happened, Josh?” I immediately retort. I know what happened. I can draw the
obvious conclusion. What I don’t understand is why? What’s going on?
He looks up at me and my eyes fill with tears at the pain I see there. “I don’t know.” He
whispers.
“Oh come on, Josh.” I mean, how stupid am I?
“I don’t know, Donna.” He insists. “There’s all these images in my head, and they won’
t stop. The noises won’t stop. The next thing I knew, the window was broken. I don’t
remember any of it.”
“You don’t remember yelling at the President either.”
“No.”
He looks scared. That makes two of us. Something is going on inside that mind of his;
something I am absolutely not qualified to handle. Leo’s sending him to meet with
someone from ATVA tomorrow and Josh doesn’t want to go.
“It’s always there, Donna.” He whispers without meeting my eyes. “Every time I close
my eyes, it’s there.”
“I have nightmares about that night.” I whisper back and his eyes snap up to mine.
“You do?” he replies softly, and I nod.
“It’s always the same. You probably don’t remember it, but I’ll never forget this
moment. It’s burned in my brain. There was a point when we were waiting for help that
I think you decided you weren’t going to make it. You apologized to me for not having
the courage to say screw it and let us be together and then you closed your eyes. I
freaked out on you for giving up. After that, it became all about keeping you
conscious. But, Josh, in that moment, in that split second when I thought you were
saying goodbye and I thought you were gone, my heart stopped. And that’s what
happens in my nightmare. You don’t open your eyes again, no matter what I do.”
The tears are streaming down my face and I’m overwhelmed by the need to touch him
right now and reassure myself that he’s alive. I bring my hand softly up to his face. He
closes his eyes for a brief second and then looks at me again.
“You’re in all this pain, Josh. I don’t know what’s going on and I can see that you don’t
either, but it’s glaringly obvious that you have to see that doctor. I don’t know what he’
s going to say, but you have to believe that no matter what he says, and no matter
what comes of it, it won’t change how much I love you. I promise.”
“Donna…” he whispers.
“I promise.” I say more firmly. “I just want you back, Josh. I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“I love you.” He whispers. I press my lips to his and he clutches me with his uninjured
hand.
There’s a knock on the door again, and I know it’s Henry. “I’m going to go clean up
the glass and help Henry.” I say standing up and pulling him to his feet. “You go get
changed. I know you don’t want to and I know why, but we ARE going to the ER, Josh.”
I step away from him, but the quiet, anguished call of my name has me immediately
turning around. “I’ll be with you every second.” I promise and then I leave to open the
front door.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
JOSH’S POV
Donna’s strength amazes me. Where she gets it from, I don’t know, but I’m glad she’s
got it because I frequently sponge off her. I’m terrified about what this shrink is going
to say. I mean any way you slice it, I’m cracking up. I have nightmares, these visions
won’t go away, I’m snappy, I think my assistant is going to quit. Donna tells me she’s
impervious, but we both know she’s not. I’ve said some hateful things to her. They
hurt her, I know they did. But she’s got this strength that she’s tapping into.
She took me to the ER last night to get my hand stitched up. She held my other hand
and whispered soothing words to me, but it didn’t help. She tired; God love her, but
she tried. Nothing was going to help me last night though. I haven’t slept in over 24
hours. Dr. Bartlet was prescribing me sleeping pills that Donna was going to fill today,
since tomorrow is Christmas Day.
She’s not flying home to see her family and that’s my fault. We were supposed to both
go. It was going to be a whole meet the relatives thing, but she canceled the flight last
week. She didn’t think I’d be up for it. She’s right, but I don’t feel any less shitty about
it.
I can’t remember what happened last night. I’ve got this memory in my head about
cutting my hand on a high ball glass, but I don’t remember seeing a broken glass, and
I don’t see how a glass could have done this kind of damage. All the curtains in my
apartment were closed this morning. When I asked Donna about it, she gave me an
odd look and shrugged.
Twelve hours of complete mind violation later and this doctor tells me I’ve got post
traumatic stress disorder. I’m so incredibly fired. I don’t even know what they can say
in the press release for that either. They can’t say why they’d be letting me go, but
the secret service will never let me continue working here.
When I walk out to the lobby, Donna and Leo are sitting there. They both stand up
and she practically runs over to me.
“How are you?” she asks very quietly.
“Very tired.” And I look over at Leo. “Donna, could you…”
“Sure.” She nods quickly. “I’ll just go warm up the car and bring it around.” She gives
me a quick kiss on the cheek and squeezes my hand before leaving and I turn and
look at Leo.
“How'd it go?” he immediately asks.
“He thinks I may have an eating disorder.”
“Josh --”
“And a fear of rectangles. That's not weird, is it?” I can see he’s not in the mood, so I
decide to come clean. “I didn't cut my hand on a glass. I broke a window in my
apartment.”
“This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he
can't get out. A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, "Hey, can you help me out?"
The doctor writes him a prescription, throws it down the hole, and moves on. Then a
priest comes along and the guy shouts up, "Father, I'm down in this hole--can you
help me out?" The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole, and moves
on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey Joe, it's me--can you help me out?" And the friend
jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are you stupid? Now we're both down here!" And
the friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before, and I know the way out. As
long as I got a job, you got a job--you understand?”
I do. And I nod my head in understanding. I’m afraid we’re about to have a Sam
moment here, so I sigh and look towards the door.
“You’re really lucky to have her, you know.” He says quietly.
“Yeah.” I agree.
“I know you’ve gotten a lot of grief over the last few years, but somehow you managed
to keep her around.”
“I have no idea how.” I say softly looking down at my hand and stretching out my
fingers.
“I do.” Leo replies. Please God, after the day I’ve had, please do not let Leo reduce
me to tears in the middle of the freaking White House. He’s getting pretty damn close.
“Noah would have loved her.”
I look back up at Leo. “Yes, he would have.”
Donna comes back in carrying my coat and helps me shrug into.
“Take care of him.” Leo says to her.
“I will.” She smiles. She always does.
“Merry Christmas, Leo.” I say.
“Merry Christmas, son.”
<><><><><><><><><><>
DONNA’S POV
We ride home in silence. I make a quick pit stop at our favorite Italian take out place
for dinner. I went shopping earlier when I filled his prescription so there’s plenty at his
place to get us through until tomorrow.
We get inside and after we eat, I curl up on the couch with him. It’s started to snow
now. He wraps his arms around me and lays his head on my chest.
“Wanna talk about it?” I ask softly.
“I’ve been talking about it all day.”
“I mean what the good doctor said.”
“He said I’m crazy.”
“Really?” I smirk. “A psychiatrist used those words?”
“No. He said I had post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Okay.” I say.
“Okay?”
“Something’s been going on, Josh, there’s a name for it. That doesn’t make you feel a
little better?”
“No. It makes me feel weak.”
I let out an involuntary laugh and he looks up at me in surprise. “I’m sorry, honey, I
really am. It’s just the last thing in the world you are is weak. Look at all you’ve gotten
through. Josh, if you were weak, you’d be dead right now.”
He shrugs and lays his head back down. “It also means I’m not perfect.” I can feel his
smirk through my clothes.
“Joshua, I hate to break up the fantasy there, but you weren’t perfect before you were
hurt either.”
He looks up at me in mock surprise. “No?”
“Not remotely.”
“You seemed smitten anyway.”
“Smitten, yes; deluded, no.”
He brings his hand up and pushes the hair from my face. “I don’t think I’ve ever
thanked you.” He said softly.
“For?”
“Just loving me.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve you, but
I’m awfully glad you chose me.”
“Well, the feeling is mutual.”
He smiles lightly. I can feel the smart ass comeback to that ready to slide out, but he
places a kiss on my forehead instead.
“Oh, you know what?” I say suddenly. “I think now is the perfect time to give you your
Christmas present.”
He picks his head up and looks at me. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“You know I’m actually Jewish, right?”
“Christmas is the season of giving. In that spirit, I’m giving you something. You don’t
want it?”
“What are you nuts? Of course I want it!”
I chuckle as we sit up and I go route through my attaché case, emerging with his
perfectly wrapped present. I hand it to him and he looks down at it for a moment
before looking back up at me.
“I swear to God I got you something, but I left it at the White House.”
“It’s okay.” I nod sitting back down.
“I could go get it.”
“Or you could stay here and open that.” I reply. No way am I letting him go back there
tonight or tomorrow. I can wait for my present for two days. Him on the road to
recovery is my gift.
He grins at me, and it’s the adorable grin I loved and have missed over the past few
weeks. He tears the wrapping off and opens the box. When he pulls back the tissue
paper, he smiles widely at what’s down there.
An advanced copy of my book.
He runs his fingers gently over the cover. “Off the Record: The Road to the Bartlet
White House, by Donnatella Moss, with Joshua Lyman.” He reads quietly. The front
cover has a picture of the White House on it on a background of the American Flag.
Having helped me edit it and at times, downright write some of it, he knows what it
says inside.
Almost.
But it didn’t have a title last he knew. “It’s ready?” he asks.
“It hits the shelves in four more months.”
“You put my name on the cover.” He smirks.
“Well, I didn’t want you to sue me for plagiarism. Some of the stuff in there is directly
from you, you know.”
“Sam always says that good writers borrow from other writers, but great writers steal
from them outright.”
“Well, as you already know, I’ve stolen from you outright in there, so…”
“I don’t have to read it to know you’re a great writer, Donna.” He smiles at me. My
eyes fill with tears. It was such a basic compliment from him, but it actually means a
lot. Usually, I’m getting yelled at from him for the things I write. “It looks great. I’ve
already read it though, so I know it’s the leading authority.”
“You haven’t read all of it.” I smile at him, and he cocks his head to the side.
“You changed something?”
“No. But, I added something.”
He squints at me slightly. He’s intrigued. “What did you add?”
“I added the dedication, of course.” I say quietly.
A look of understanding falls over his face, but he looks a little apprehensive, too, like
he’s going to open it up and see I’ve dedicated it to President Bartlet or something. I
nod at him in encouragement to open the book. He looks at me for a moment longer
before looking back down and open the book.
“You dedicated it to me.” He says hoarsely.
“Read the forward.”
“This book is dedicated in whole to Joshua Lyman.” He begins. His voice is raspy and
for a moment, I think the day might have been too emotional to have added this to it,
but it’s too late now. “I realize that I should have dedicated it in part to President
Bartlet, maybe my parents or my siblings, all of whom I love, adore, and respect, but
in truth, this book would not exist in the best form it could possibly be without him.
What started out as a professional courtesy by him, blossomed into a friendship, and
ultimately, the great love of my life. Words often fail me when I try to describe what I
feel for you, Joshua, but I will never know a more dedicated, passionate, strong,
caring or better man as long as I live.”
He looks at it again, I suspect re-reading it himself. I feel myself starting to shake a bit.
I was so unsure of his reaction to that. It was mushy. Very mushy. That is not a Josh
the political world sees, and so I wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate the sentiment and
making him look less threatening.
He closes the cover and then presses his palms to his eyes for a moment. When he
lowers his hands, I can see his eyes are red. When he looks at me straight on, I can
see that he’s genuinely touched by my words and I smile tentatively. His hands come
up and cup my cheeks.
“Thank you.” He whispers.
“I meant every word.” I whisper back.
He kisses me, and I can feel the emotion pouring off him and washing over me. We
ease gently back onto the couch and he stretches out over me. “If I’m half as strong
as you think I am, Donna, it’s because I have you. I love you more than anything in
the world.”
“I love you, too.”
Words seem to fail him now, but that’s okay. He can speak to me without words. He
usually does anyway.
What started out two years ago as a simple hunt for a story, a few quotes for a book,
a piqued interest in the man behind the man, has turned into what I hope to be a
great love story to tell our grandchildren.
I will teach our children and our grandchildren that it is possible to love great, and
though you are guaranteed to get your heart broken in the process, it will be repaired
by that great love. I will show them what he and I have overcome and what we have
created along the way.
I will grow old telling them the story of the great political giant and the Goliaths of men
and women behind him; that not all people in politics are evil and out to get them. But
that there are real people there that work hard for them and make real sacrifices and
sometimes come horrifyingly close to sacrificing everything.
And I will tell them that for people like Josh and I who manage to find the good and
managed to stay true to themselves and cherish what they have will hit it right and
have an amazing life together.
~THE END~
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