Title:  Heaven and Hell: Confessions

Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247

Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com

Email: e_allen@hotmail.com    or   minorleeg@yahoo.com

Notes:  Yes, finally.  It’s here..

 

******************

The White House

Saturday, 11:23 a.m.

 

    The office was quieter than normal, Charlie noted.  The building was still full but everyone seemed to be running on silent—except Ed who had broken down in virtually uncontrollable sobbing in the Roosevelt Room after finding a note from CJ wishing him a happy birthday tucked into his working folder that morning.  Carol confessed to putting it there earlier in the week before the news arrived.  CJ had wanted to make it a point of harassing Ed on the day as repayment for his making a scene in the Mess on her birthday the previous year.  After his break down, the meeting had continued but the “let’s get through it” atmosphere seemed thinner than ever. 

 

   Everyone else’s collective-quiet pulled and eerie and somber curtain over the building that hushed atmosphere even though the halls were busy.  Everyone was speaking in whispered tones they much the way people do in a house when there is a funeral.  And so there would be.  Two, in fact. 

 

   Toby and Sam were said to be putting their weekend plans on hold to write fitting eulogies for their fallen colleagues as they awaited the families’ plans for memorial services.  There were delicate questions of venue being discussed; CJ’s brother thought it fitting that a service be held in Washington and did not object to a service in any church within the District but would prefer that the church be Catholic rather than non-denominational, which excluded National Cathedral.  The sheer volume of mourners expected, however, made finding an appropriate location difficult on such short notice.  And though no word had been heard from the Lyman family on their preferences, it was understood that no church would be used and even questions of a Temple would be in question.  Josh may have been raised Jewish but several individuals who had spoken with his wife and mother stated that even though his mother would prefer a service in such a place, she understood her son did not partake in religion and would not have asked for any such gathering.  Toby quipped that the only fitting place large enough would be on the steps of Capitol Hill; however, that was not going to be an option for a variety of security and efficiency reasons.  Charlie had overheard Toby that he found it strikingly appropriate that Josh was as difficult on the Hill in his passing has he had been in his life.  The comment elicited a host of uncontrollable smirks for several moments only to be followed by an uncomfortable silence.  It was the same cold and disbelieving silence that soured the air of the building down nearly every corridor since the news arrived on Wednesday.

 

   Charlie had taken a walk through the west wing on his entry into the building that morning.  He noted CJ’s door was open and there was movement in her office as Henry, one of her deputyies assisted Carol with gaining the necessary files from her office so that he could continue their work.  Josh’s office was another story.  All the doors were closed and locked—on Leo’s orders.  Only Sam was permitted in the room and access to the computers and files there in.  Donna’s desk, just outside Josh’s closed office, was a sea of flowers brought in by staffers.  She had seen them briefly when she came to the office the previous day with Josh’s mother to meet with the President.  Leo, too, was at that meeting, but did not stay long.  He was finding that he had forgotten how much Josh (and by extension Donna) did in the course of a normal day and was trying to get the most competent substitutes to cover those duties.  Despite the feeling that the world had stopped in these halls, the business of the nation did not pause and no one was going to let the White House sit down to cry for a spell before getting back to work.  There simply wasn’t time.  And in that rush to push on, the spark that Charlie felt pulsed from this building seemed to wane.  It was in the silence that he felt it most.

 

   Charlie did not like it when this house got quiet.

 

    He spent the morning keeping the President on task and cleaned up the folders on his desk.  He knew it was nearly the lunch hour as he glanced at the clock on the wall, but he didn’t feel like eating.  He lifted the phone on his desk and sighed as he realized the instrument was dead.  Several direct strikes by lightning during the storms the previous evening and those earlier in the week were still wreaking havoc with the communications systems.  Technical support could be seen at most desks trying to work the bugs out of the computers as the sudden surges of power left the microchips playing Helter Skelter with data.  Allegedly e-mail was running properly though Charlie had his doubts.  He had nothing in his inbox and that was highly irregular.  He signed off his system and prepared to walk to the kitchen and place the order for the President’s lunch and to seek out someone to see what was wrong with the phones when Leo entered the office. 

 

   The Chief of Staff was looking older and more tired than he had hour earlier—and he had looked nearly 10 years older even then.  Twenty-four hours earlier the reports out of North Carolina confirmed that emergency crews had finished rescuing people from devastated towns and regions, but they were also finding more victims than previously estimated.  Everyone was dumbfounded that the death toll was racking up as high as it was; contingency and emergency plans had failed across the board as communication ability was severed early by the storm.  Plans were already being made to prevent this type of breakdown in the future, but that was little consolation for those still waiting to have their loved ones names moved from the missing lists.

 

    "How you doing, Charlie?” Leo asked tiredly.

 

   “Okay,” he sighed.  “I forgot what it’s like to have days like this.  Those long days when nothing really happens after…  I just forgot what these days can be like.”

 

   “Yeah,” Leo said quickly.

 

   “How are you?”

 

   “Fine,” the older man shrugged as he lied, though not as convincingly as he hoped.  “Is he busy?”

 

   “Sam’s in there with him right now,” Charlie said, gesturing toward the door to the Oval. 

 

   “Still?” Leo remarked looking at his watch.

 

   “Yeah,” Charlie sighed.  “Sam got here late so they’re a little behind.  Late night for Sam, I guess.”

 

   “Yeah, he and Mallory had dinner with Donna and Josh’s mother last night,” Leo replied, not much caring.  Charlie was right, he thought as he glanced at his watch yet again; this was one of the longest days he had spent in a long time.

 

   “How are they?  Donna and Mrs. Lyman?” Charlie asked, then pondered aloud.  “I guess I should say both Mrs. Lyman’s.  You know, it’s funny.  I don’t think I ever called Donna that before.”

 

   “They’re strong women,” Leo said.  “They’d have to be to put up with Josh. That or crazy.  Probably both.”

 

   The humor seemed flat and ill-placed though Leo felt it was both true and something Josh would have agreed with readily.  That prickly feeling in Leo’s throat returned.  He had been fighting it back since Gov. Kyle called with the news and it had not subsided yet.  He had spoken to Donna face-to-face for a few moments the previous day, but he knew he would need to find the time to do more than offer a short phrase of condolences soon.  Though there had been no official discussions with him, Leo feared he would be asked to speak at a memorial service for his two fallen staffers.  Refusal was his first instinct.  It wasn’t that he didn’t care enough or respect either CJ or Josh enough nor that he wouldn’t be honored to stand up and speak for them, but he was certain that his power of speech would fail him as the overwhelming feeling of loss kept creeping up on him just when he thought he could shoulder the burden.  They deserved better than that, Leo knew.

 

   “CJ’s father didn’t understand,” Charlie remarked.  “Toby told me that he was confused by… everything.”

 

   “Her stepmother and her older brothers are taking care of things,” Leo said.  “Maybe it’s a blessing for him not to understand.”

 

   “Yeah,” Charlie said then paused.   “Leo, can I ask you something?”

 

   “What?”

 

   “I know this sounds weird, but I’m not sure how I should feel,” Charlie said uncomfortably.  He couldn’t find any tears, and he didn’t think he was putting on strong face to keep the professional air of the office.  He literally could feel nothing about what was going on and was worried about that reaction.   “I know we’re supposed to just keep going on like nothing happened, but....”

 

   “Yeah,” Leo nodded quickly and stared at the carpet.  “But we’ve been here before, Charlie.  It takes time and time is something we don’t have.”

 

   Charlie nodded and looked at Debbie’s desk and remembered the woman who used to work there then looked at the TV near the wall showing Toby starting the evening briefing.  He had stepped in to assist with some duties along with CJ’s deputy since the news arrived.  The speechwriter was emotionless as he took questions and answered them in short order.  Most of the Press, stunned by the news, was not taking advantage of the shake up yet; some were trying to capitalize on the shell shocked state of some of those in the building but most were observing a certain amount of grace as White House communications started to transition into the new world of life without CJ Cregg.  Word was that several reporters had openly wept in the briefing room upon hearing the new of the Press Secretary’s fate.  Charlie heard that Danny Concannon had left the building with her fish, Gail, and a tear stained-beard the previous evening.

 

   “I know, but somehow it always feels like it never happened before,” Charlie said softly then looked toward the closed door to the Oval Office. 

 

   “It never does,” Leo said curtly.

 

*****************

Oval Office

 

   “I can’t say this,” Bartlet said, placing the speech on the coffee table as he looked up at Sam sitting in the chair opposite him.

 

   “I’m struggling,” Sam said and hung his head.  “I know it’s not good enough.”

 

   “I don’t think anything could be,” Bartlet assured him.  “Sam, I’m not saying this isn’t a good speech; it’s eloquent and fitting and personal and precisely what someone as close as you would say.”

 

   “Sir?”

 

   “Sam, this is your goodbye to Josh,” the President replied.  “This is your speech.  I can’t read these words and I won’t.  I spoke with Toby earlier and both he and Leo agree, I shouldn’t speak at the services.”

 

   “But Mr. President,” Sam began to argue.

 

   “I’m going to speak with the staff,” Bartlet replied.  “Margaret is arranging an informal and more private gathering for those who were part of their lives here.  We’re going to hold it in the residence tomorrow evening.  I have some thoughts I’ve written out and I’ll go with those.  It wouldn’t be right to speak publically.  This is a time for the families.”

 

   “We are their family,” Sam said quickly.

 

   “I know,” Bartlet consoled him.  “I informed Anna Lyman of our decision just before you came in and she agreed that it was best.  CJ’s brothers told Toby that they wouldn’t be offended either.”

 

   “Then why did you have me bring you this text?” Sam asked.

 

   “I wanted you to know that it was good enough for me but it was written for you,” Bartlet said in an elementary fashion.  “He’d be proud to hear what you’ve written, but I suspect he already knew most of it.”

 

   Sam looked down at the words and wasn’t sure whether he would ever speak them aloud.  They felt stale and cold in his mouth.  He wasn’t ready to bury the dead but the time for goodbye’s had arrived.  He knew the President was correct that it would be more proper if he did not participate in the services as anything other than a mourner.  It would create and even more zoo-like atmosphere around the proceedings than was necessary.  While it would give the families more privacy to grieve, Sam hoped the world at-large understood that these two lost souls were giants and did merit the public attention and notice that a eulogy by the President would bring, and it was only a magnanimous decision to not make a media spectacle of the gatherings which kept the President from publicly sharing his thoughts on CJ and Josh with the world.

 

   “He would have been honored if you did speak, sir,” Sam said finally.  “They both would.  In fact, I think they’d both have preferred it be like than the other way around.  I mean….  If it was the other way around and they were…. I mean you…  I…  Sorry, sir.”

 

   “It’s all right,” Bartlet assured him as he stood to conclude the meeting. “I believe there is a god and there is a heaven and if I’m right about those I’ll make my way there eventually.”

 

   “Well, if he got in, Josh is probably doing some polling for you right now,” Sam said and relented a dry chuckle.  “Actually, he’s probably doing that wherever he is.”

 

*****************

Oval Office outer area—

 

  Charlie returned from his trip to the kitchen where he discovered their phones were now working as were all of those in the Communications bullpen.  This boded well for a smoother afternoon, he believed.  He re-entered his office area to find Leo still waiting beside Debbie Fidderer’s desk.  He was looking dejectedly and skeptically at the folders in his hands.  From his expressions, Charlie deduced what he was reading.

 

    “That’s the list?” Charlie asked as he took his seat again.

 

   Among Sam’s duties in the last 48 hours was to draw up a list of candidates for Leo to replace his deputy while Toby compiled a list of those to suggest for CJ’s job.  Charlie was certain neither enjoyed those tasks.  But, if possible, their distaste was only rivaled by Leo’s, who had to be the one to make the final cut and bring the names to the President. 

 

   “Yeah,” Leo sighed and leaned on Debbie’s desk wearily. 

 

    Charlie looked at the pain on the man’s face, an expression that was as dark and bleak as any Charlie had ever seen.  Charlie decided to pursue the discussion no further.

 

   "I guess he's still finishing up with Sam," Charlie said.  “They should be done soon.  Do you want me to…..”

 

   “No,” Leo shook his head.  He was in no hurry for this meeting.

 

   “They should be done soon,” Charlie said again for lack of anything better to say.

 

    "Yeah, you said that,” Leo reminded him.  “It’s the remarks for.... the whatever.”

 

   He abandoned his statement as Charlie's phone rang.  Leo didn’t much carrying about the President's address to the textile union at that moment.  He didn’t care about a lot of things at  that moment.  He had been awake for the better part of three and a half days and focusing on anything was difficult.  In his hands, he had a list of possible candidates to fill both Josh’s and CJ’s position.  He was bringing it to the President though hadn’t looked at it closely himself yet.  He had no interest in doing so, but he knew it was a priority.  Still, he couldn’t bring himself to make those decisions yet.  Leo sighed and rubbed his hand over his face as Charlie answered his call.

 

    "Charlie Young," he answered tiredly then a surprised expression filled his features as his tone became excited and agitated.  "What?  Who is… Oh my god!  Yeah, he's right here.  Hold on.  Leo!" 

    

    "Yeah," the Chief of Staff answered Charlie flatly without looking up as the younger man stabbed the speakerphone button..

 

    "Remind me to read the fine print on my job description," Josh's voice carried over the line sounding tired and perturbed but very much alive.  "I don't recall seeing the terms 'hazardous duty' anywhere."

 

    "Josh?!"

 

    "I think so," the Deputy Chief of Staff replied.  "I gotta tell you, Leo, I'm starting to take this kind of treatment personally.  And why don’t you people answer phones?  Again, I’m seeing the hazy lines of a conspiracy."

 

    "Where the hell are you?"

 

    "Did I get fired?”

 

   “Fired?” Leo echoed.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

   “No one returned my calls,” Josh said sounding petulant.  “I even got hung up on—twice!  Then when I called back it’s like technology just doesn’t exist.  You think when you dial a phone another one will ring somewhere.  It’s always been that way—my whole life, in fact.  But now…”

 

   “Where are you?” Leo cut in sternly.

 

   “Just passed the thing,” Josh answered unhelpfully though as accurate as he could be at that time.  “Before that, I spent entirely too much time the lobby of Mercer Community Hospital which is in some God-forsaken--and by that I mean literally cast aside by some despotic deity who...."

 

    "Thing? What thing? Are you all right?" Leo cut him off, figuring from the editorial he had truncated that his Deputy was as close to fine as one could expect.

 

    "Physically, yes," Josh answered.  "I've decided there may be some merit to those rumors that I must be certifiably insane."

 

    "What about CJ?"

 

    "She's probably loonier than I am when you get it all down on paper and actually compare the...," he began.

 

    "Josh," Leo cut him off.  "I meant, is CJ with you?  How is she?"

 

    "Oh yeah, I was getting to that," Josh said. "She’s fine.  She got a little banged up when the river came to eat us.  They wrapped her up in bailing twine and modeling clay."

 

    "And Steve Kyle?"

 

    "Last time I saw him was two hours ago and he was looking for a news camera to tell the world why he thinks this storm was entirely his father's fault," Josh groaned.  "A real gem of an offspring, Governor Kyle’s got there, Leo.  Makes you appreciate the governor's restraint in not killing the little bas-..."

 

    "Whatever," Leo cut him of with relief.  "What happened?"

 

    "Okay, for the record, let me state that I hate water," Josh continued.  "Clean water, dirty water, water from the sky, water from the ground.  Deserts, Leo.  That's what this world needs more of."

 

    "I'll get right on that," Leo shook his head grinning tiredly and feeling lightheaded.  “So long as you’re both safe.”

 

   “Well, that all depends on whether nature tries to kill us again," Josh said.  “I think it just wanted CJ and I was an innocent bystander.  Nature can’t hate me personally, can it?”

 

    "I might if you pull a stunt like this again,” Leo growled.  “Why the hell didn’t you call?”

 

   “I did,” Josh said.  “The phone won’t even ring when I dialed any of the phones in the bullpen or even tried Margaret’s desk.  Finally, I got the switchboard and whoever answered didn’t seem interested in speaking with me.  There’s no way the call script they train those people on instructs them to….”

 

   “You called?”

 

   “Yes,” Josh argued.  “I couldn’t reach anyone so I finally got the switchboard.  We didn’t know the numbers; it was a whole fiasco to just dial into Washington.  Anyway, I got the switchboard and I said who I was and that I needed to speak to you.  The persons who answered put me on hold then hung up.  I wasn’t feeling a lot of interest or concern in our whereabouts at that time so we caught a flight to Dulles."

 

   “Well, it’s a relief to hear you voice,” Charlie said, putting his hands on his head as the rushes subsided. 

 

    "Thank you, Charlie," Josh said.  "And don't take this the wrong way: I resent you because you sound dry."

 

    "I could spill water on my shirt as a show of solidarity," Charlie offered gladly, a newfound energy filling his bones.

 

    "It's the least you could do," Josh sighed.  "Ron Butterfield was leaving as we entered and he had to sign us in; that’s not what I’d call reassuring.  He said someone was reporting that we were... you know...."

 

    "Yeah," Leo replied. 

 

   “Again, people seem a little too eager to have me not… be,” Josh complained.  “I’m serious about taking this personally.”

 

   “Like I care,” Leo groaned.  “You should call your family."

 

    "My mother used to swear that if your feet stayed wet long enough they'd become webbed like a duck's," Josh continued.  "I always thought that was her way to scare me from playing in puddles.  Now, I'm not so sure."

 

   Leo offered a terse shake of his head and a grateful grin.  In that instant, the door to the Oval Office opened and the President and Sam exited looking exhausted with the results of their meeting. 

 

   “Leo,” Bartlet greeted him glumly. 

 

   “Mr. President, Josh is…,” Leo began quickly then turned toward the phone.  “Well, where the hell are you?”

 

   “I’m standing behind you,” Josh said, suddenly appearing in the doorway still on the phone.  “I can probably hang up the phone, right?”

 

   He looked tired and battered.  There were abrasions on the side of his face and a greenish bruise on his left cheek.  Some type of splint was taped expertly to his left hand, but he was standing in the outer office looking less like a ghost and more like someone who had just weathered a filibuster rather than a deadly hurricane.

 

   “Josh!” Bartlet exclaimed, stunned by the resurrection.  The President stepped toward him and gripped his hand and forearm as he quickly said a silent prayer of thanks to the God whose rationale he had been questioning—yet again.  “I don’t believe this.  How?  We were….  You’re here!  Thank God.  But how?”

 

   “Good morning, Mr. President,” Josh replied wearily, hoping he had the time of day correct as he looked at his wrist where a watch should have been but wasn’t.  “In case you were curious, I believe firmly that hurricanes named Horatio are not fans of Democrats.  Just something you might want to factor into any declarations or remarks you make concerning this little event in the future.”

 

   “Are you all right?” Bartlet asked, ignoring—but reassured to hear—the sarcasm.  “Where is CJ?”

 

   “We’re fine, mostly,” Josh said then looked over his shoulder.  “Hop-along Cregg will be here shortly.  She’s a little gimpy right now.  Her foot was sort of pointing in the wrong direction for a while, but someone fixed that.  She was pretty cranky until the doctor whacked her full of the blue pills.”

 

   “She’s here?” Bartlet asked anxiously.  “She’s with you and she’s all right?”

 

   “Yes, sir,” Josh nodded, pleased to alleviate the man’s visible distress.  “She got mugged by Carol and Jack as we rounded the corner near the Communications Bullpen.  Nobody was that interested in me.”

 

   “That’s because I was writing the thing for you and I was right here,” Sam said stunned by his reappearance from the dead.  Without waiting for a signal that it was welcome, Sam hugged his friend impulsively, causing Josh to wince and push the other man away swiftly.  

 

   “I don’t know what that means, but thanks and… Ow,” Josh replied painfully.  “Please let go.”

 

   “Sorry,” Sam apologized and stepped back.  “Are you hurt?”

 

   “No,” he lied breathlessly.  “Just don’t do that—ever.  So someone did notice that we were gone?”

 

   “They told us you were caught in a flood and didn’t make it,” the President said urgently.  “What happened?”

 

   “Apparently there was a storm,” Josh said shrugged and shook his head.  “I’ve sort of been out of touch with the news.  I’m sort of worried that Ron Butterfield had to sign me into the building because he thought my access code would be locked out.  Do I still work here?”

 

   “Wee thought you were dead, but we’ll probably call off the search for your replacement now,” Bartlet relented.  “Though, I suppose I should fire you for scaring us like that.  Are you all right?”

 

   “We got wet,” Josh said simply, ignoring the finer details.  “CJ fell down.  Those are the highlights.  She tells it a little differently, but you should keep in mind that we had to drag her out of the… Well, it was like a river, like a really mean river with a vendetta against things that… don’t live in the water, I guess.”

 

   “Have you slept any time recently?” Leo asked skeptically.

 

   “Probably while I was driving, but that’s not the interesting part,” Josh shrugged as a smirk drew on the corners of his mouth.  “If you want a really good story, you should make CJ explain to you about the cell phone.”

 

   “No, I don’t think we will,” Bartlet shook his head; Josh’s irreverent demeanor was one of the things he feared he would miss most but experiencing it again, he was no longer sure.  “So long as you’re safe.  That’s what matters.”

 

   “Yes, sir,” Josh replied.  “Can I take this moment to mention that the EPA needs to revisit their studies of watersheds and dredging regulations for streams?  Also, dams made out of dirt—not a good idea.  I’m no expert, but dirt and water equal mud. Who’s brilliant idea was it that mud was better than concrete?”

 

   “I honestly don’t know, Josh,” Bartlet said flatly.  “Do you have any other environmental observations you feel the urgent need to express?”

 

   “He’s also advocating we create more deserts,” Leo added and Josh nodded quickly, appreciating the assistance in his lobbying effort.

 

   “You can brief me another time,” Bartlet said, gingerly patting the Deputy Chief of Staff on the shoulder.  “Have you called home?”

 

   “What do you mean?” Josh asked bewildered.  “It’s Saturday.”

 

   “Leo, you seriously have to teach him about priorities,” Bartlet shook his head.  “Josh, most people, after an event like this, would contact their family first. Am I right in assuming that you did not?  You just came here from the airport?”

 

   “Well…. yes,” Josh said hesitantly, not seeing where there was anything wrong with such a course of action.  “But for the record, I did call here and… no one wanted to talk to me.”

 

   “How’s that?”  Bartlet asked.

 

   “We’re looking into it,” Leo said, then cast Charlie a sharp look that added the task to his duties for the day.  The President’s Aide nodded and made a note to have someone check the call log with the switchboard to find out who took the call. 

 

  “If the technology and internal intelligence committee is finished…,” Bartlet interjected, pointing at the door.  “Find a phone that works.  Call home, then go home.”

 

   “Yes, sir,” Josh replied then paused in his exit to seek some answers.  “For the record, before I was hung up on, we tried to call numerous times since 11 p.m. yesterday.  We couldn’t get a call out from North Carolina until we got to the airport this morning.  Most of the land lines are still down there.  Nothing here would even connect.  Once we landed at Dulles, we tried again using a cell and that’s when we got the brush-off from the operator or maybe it was that particular phone.  And speaking of that phone…”

 

   Josh then peered over his shoulder again to where CJ and her crutches appeared looking weathered, weary and beaten up.  Her face was deeply scratched and her jaw bruised.

 

   “Shuh up,” she ordered through clenched teeth and swollen lips.  “No one cares a’out the ’hone.”

 

   “Claudia Jean,” the President said warmly and greeted her tenderly.  “Nature went up again you and lost, I see.  I never doubted you for a moment.”

 

   “Hank you, Mista Pwesident,” she said shyly.  “But Ca-wol said you tol’ evey-un on staff tha’ I uz dead.”

 

   “Would it make you feel better if I told you that Leo made me do it?” Bartlet offered quickly.

 

   “Does anyone want to hear about the phone?” Josh began. 

 

   “No,” Leo said curtly.

 

   ““My phone… uh… drown,” Josh began unhindered.  “Anyway, I found this phone in CJ’s car when we got back.  Turns out its Danny’s phone.  That would be Danny Concannon.  The funny thing, and that’s funny weird not funny ha-ha, is that I found it in the backseat of CJ’s car.  CJ, tell them why I found Danny’s phone in the… Ouch!”

 

  Josh rubbed his shin on the spot where CJ’s crutch had just struck him. 

 

   “Wuss,” she said barely audibly.

 

   “I’m asking Danny how it got there,” Josh countered to her quietly.

 

   “Mista Hezident,” CJ continued with difficulty.  “My a-hologies.  I should have drown him when I had the shance.”

 

   “When was that, before or after you fell in the…,” Josh began.

 

   “All right,” Bartlet commanded, halting the spat.  “I see that we are indeed one big, happy and dysfunctional family again.  I cannot express how gratified I am to see that you do possess animated corporeal form.  Now…”

 

   In that instant, the doors to the colonnade opened and the First Lady, Abigail Bartlet appeared in the door way wearing a perturbed yet relieved expression. She approached with her arms held out to both of them.

 

   "Lilly just called and told me she saw you in the building,” Abbey scolded them briefly.  “I said she must be crazy, but she assured me you were both here, and she was right, which makes me wrong, and you know how I hate being wrong.  So what do you have to say for yourselves?”

 

   “CJ just hit me,” Josh said innocently and looking for an ally.

 

   “Then you must have been a very bad boy," Abbey said sternly then hugged him briefly and kissed his cheek dryly.

 

   "I try," Josh said inanely as he winced.

 

   “Claudia Jean,” Abbey sighed, embracing her more gently.  “You’ve seen doctors?  You should see your own doctor tomorrow.  You too, Josh.  And call them now.  If they don’t have time, let me speak to them and I’ll see that they make time.”

 

   “We’re fine, Ma’am,” Josh offered.  “CJ just looks bad because…  She doesn’t handle the outdoors quite as…. Ouch!  Okay, that’s twice!”

 

   “Josh,” Abbey sighed watching him glare at his cohort and her crutches.  “You are an unmitigated pain in the ass."

 

   "I try," he said with a shrug.

 

   “It shows,” the First Lady smirked with her approval.  “I contemplated going to your funeral once. That was enough. Now, you've put me through it again and added CJ to the mix.  I'd ground you both if I had the power.”

 

   “This one was nature’s fault, Ma’am,” Josh informed her.

 

   “Any reason why can’t still blame you?” she asked.

 

   “No, Ma’am.”

 

  “Good, then,” she smiled as she prepared to return to her previous appointment.  “Now, Jed, don’t keep them standing here talking about erosion or whatever you men are fascinated by right now.  Make these people go home.  If either of you do this to me again and I’ll kill you myself.”

 

   The First Lady bade them good afternoon and left with the same suddenness with which she had appeared. 

 

   "Well, as usual, she upstaged me," the President said. "That was the gist of what I wanted to say—minus the overt threat of bodily harm.  Could someone maybe…”

 

   “I just did,” said the new voice in the room.  Will Bailey leaned on the door casing looking eager and without assignment.     “I hope you don’t mind, Josh.  I took the liberty to call Donna.  Sorry, CJ, I don’t know your family, so I just called Donna.  I think she understood me, but I’m not sure because the phone went dead.”

 

   “Did we piss off AT&T and Verizon while I was gone?” Josh asked though no one seemed to notice or care.

 

   “Actually, it just didn’t have anyone on the other end anymore,” Will explained.  “I spoke to her then I heard some shouting, and then I think a door slammed.  So, Josh, when you get home, you might want to hang up the phone at your house or you won’t be able to dial out.  Oh, and it’s nice to see that you’re both alive.  And it was in that spirit of elation that I sent Ginger into the briefing room to let Toby know the news.”

 

   “I should call my mother,” Josh said figuring it best if he beat Donna and the press corps to that task.

 

   “She’s here,” Leo informed him.

 

   “Here as in ‘in Washington’ here or here as in ‘in the office’ here?” Josh asked feeling guilty about either possibility. 

 

   “Probably both,” Will said. 

 

   “So it’s true?  You said were serious when you said….,” Josh said then trailed off as the thought of what such news would do to his mother raced through his mind.  “Oh god, you didn’t.  How is my mother?”

 

   “Your mother is a trooper,” Leo told him.  “Let her yell at you or fuss over you, whatever she wants to do when she gets here.  She’s earned it.”

 

   “Donna was also mildly interested in what was going on,” Will offered.

 

   CJ had drifted away from the discussion to watch the TV.  On the screen there had been the live feed of the closed circuit broadcast from the briefing room.  Toby had previously been at the podium.  However, after receiving a message from Ginger, he had blanched then swiftly exited the room. 

 

   “To-he just wan out of duh bweefing woom,” CJ said sharply as she moved closer to watch the TV.  She had watched with curiosity as he raised his hand to pause then scurry from the room quickly.  “Dat was unpwofessional.”

 

   “No doubt,” Sam agreed, not caring what had occurred, as he hugged her cautiously.  “He’s been pitching in while you were dead.  I think he probably read Ginger’s message and….”

 

   “Yeah and while this is good news,” Toby’s winded voice, slightly angry, echoed from the hall, “I just now realized that I maybe should have handled that better.”

 

   “If you want to blame someone, I nominate CJ,” Josh said stepping aside in case the speech writer charged.  “You might want to be careful, though.  She’s got those weapons and Danny’s phone.  Hey, ask her where we found Danny’s phone.”

 

   “I may have liked you better dead,” Toby said to Josh then turned his sights on CJ.  “You look like you went 10 rounds.”

 

   “I’m fine,” she said thickly.  “I’m a wittle bwuised, but I’m fine.  I jus’ need someone to give me a wide home.  I can’t dwive wiv vis.”  She motioned to the fiberglass casing on her ankle.

 

   “We’ll arrange it,” Toby said.  “I’m going to hop back into the press room now and explain why I…”

 

   “Wan away?” CJ offered disapprovingly.

 

   “Came to verify a perplexing note passed to me, thank you,” Toby asserted.  “Have you called your families?  Do they know?  Because I’m going to have to do this right now.”

 

   “I called Donna,” Will said.

 

   “I called my stepmov-er when we awived,” CJ said.  “She tol’ me vat I vus dead.”

 

   “How does it feel?” Will asked.  “Being resurrected?”

 

   “I want to bwush my teef,” CJ said.

 

   “Not the response you’d typically expect,” Bartlet offered. 

 

   “Maybe if you all knew more about why I found Danny’s phone in the….,” Josh began but received a stern look from Leo and ceased his inquiry for the moment.  Will took that opportunity to drift away from the conversation to go toward the lobby to wait for the Mrs. Lymans’ and direct them to the correct area to pick up their loved one.

 

   “If Josh will cease his fixation with a phone no one in this room owns, I would like to order you both home or to hospitals or wherever is best for you both right now,” Bartlet said.  “I don’t want to see either of you in this office tomorrow.  I mean it.  We can get the details of your white water…”

 

   “It was more like black and green water,” Josh corrected him.

 

   “…adventure later,” Bartlet continued.  “Take whatever time you need.  We will manage here.  At the very least, you both stay home tomorrow—I know it’s a novel idea for a Sunday, but I’m laying down the law and the security in this building works for me.”

 

   “Mr. President, I’m fine and there’s no reason…,” Josh began but was cut off.

 

   “Leo?” Bartlet said.

 

   “Josh, the President gave you an order,” Leo explained as though he were dull.  “You still answer to him so when he says do it, you do it.”

 

   “Yes, sir,” Josh said humbly.

 

   “Thank you,” Bartlet continued.  “I don’t want either of you back here until Monday unless I personally call you, and they don’t let me personally call anyone any longer.  I’m not sure when I gave up that right exactly, but those are the rules.  Understood?”

 

   Both nodded their assent though each was equally sure they were more than ready to resume their duties that moment.  Each was eager to do so, to return to the normal chaos in which they thrived; that chaos mostly of man’s making rather than the elements of nature.

 

   “Josh, you’re probably going through withdrawal not having been here in a week, but I think after what you’ve obviously been through you can tough it out,” the President said, diagnosing his downcast expression accurately.  “I am immeasurably grateful to have you both back here safe.  Now, get out of my White House.  Leo, I’m energized.  Give me something big.  I could climb Mt. McKinley right now.  Let’s get Arafat on the line or the President of Liberia.  I’m up for a challenge.”

 

   “Lunch is on its way,” Charlie informed him.

 

   “Even better,” Bartlet nodded and pumped a quick thumbs up at his aide as he headed into his office.

 

   “Thank you, Mr. President,” Josh said.

 

   “Fank you, sir,” CJ echoed. 

 

   Sam stood beside the Debbie’s desk.  He grinned boldly for many reasons.  As the discussion broke up, arrangements were made for CJ to be brought home and both she and Josh to take the rest of the weekend off to rest from their ordeal, he remained quiet.  After several lengthy minutes of his toothy grin, Josh grew uneasy.

 

   “Sam?” Josh said warily.  “You’re looking kind of creepy there.”

 

   “I just wanted to say,” Sam said, but stopped and changed his words.  “I’m happy for you.  So very happy.  Happier than you understand obviously, but you know…. “

 

   “Happy?” Josh ventured.

 

   “Immeasurably,” Sam replied.

 

   “Okay, just don’t hug me again,” Josh stepped back. 

 

   “I won’t,” Sam said, stepping back as well for fear he might accidentally loose a hug.  “I wasn’t going to.”

 

   “You looked like you were in pre-hug stance,” Josh insisted.

 

   “I wasn’t,” Sam lied.  “This is just that I’m…  happy.  For you.  Truly.”

 

   “Okay,” Josh said, keeping an eye on Sam, as he headed out of the outer office and toward the Operations Bullpen.  “Happy is nice.  Creepy, but nice.  See you tomorrow.”

 

   “Not in this building, you won’t,” Leo ordered and wondered how effective the directive would be.

   

*****************

 

Northwest Lobby

 

   The two women hurried into the building.  Donna signed in her mother-in-law and walked quickly through the swinging doors that led to the Operations Bullpen.  She could see at least one door to Josh’s office was still closed. 

 

   “Is he there?” Anna asked, wringing her hands.  “Donna?”

 

   Donna noted that there was no light coming from under the office door.  Sometimes, when there was a light on inside, you could see just a wisp of it under the door if the light in the hallway was dim enough.  Donna wasn’t certain if conditions were right, but she felt certain that it was dark in Josh’s office.  Dark was good, she thought.  Dark meant no lights and no lights frequently meant Josh was there… except when he wasn’t.   She placed her hand on the door knob and felt the resistance of the lock.  She knocked twice and listened.  There was no sound inside.

 

   “Who was it that called you?” Anna asked again. 

 

   “Will Bailey,” Donna said.  She turned to her area and surveyed the desk and the floor.  There were more flowers than she remembered, but that was not what interested her.  It was what was not there.  There were no bags, no Josh, no indication that Josh was in the building.  “He’s a…  friend.   He’s Sam’s new project.  Sort of.  He  works at the OEOB.  He said they were here.  He’s not going to tell me something like that unless it was true.”

 

   “There’s no one here,” Anna observed, gripping her visitor’s badge anxiously.  “Donna, I don’t understand.  I thought you said he was here.”

 

   “I thought he said…,” Donna began and started to tremble.  Donna feared for a moment that the call had been a prank or that this was another nightmare like the ones that plagued her as she tried to sleep each night now.  Her back was turned toward the hallway and she did not see the newcomer approach.  “It sounded like Will.  I mean…  He said it was…  Anna, wait here.  I’ll see if I can find someone to tell me what’s going on.”

 

   Donna hurried down the hall to search for Will or anyone else who might know what was going on.  Anna looked around at the area she knew to be called the bullpen.  There were fewer people than she expected to see.  Her son always proclaimed that his job was a seven-day per week affair.  Seeing fewer than half a dozen people in area present to keep things running removed any doubts she may have had about how overworked he was.  Apparently he and Leo had run the country.

 

   After several moments of too much silence, she rose from Donna’s chair and walked down the hallway that she believed led to Samuel Seaborn’s office.  She knew that he would find her the answers she sought and if not him them Toby Ziegler.  She found a gaggle of staffers watching a television on the wall; on the screen she saw Toby, who appeared to be taking questions from reporters.  Anna wondered briefly if something awful had happened in the world.  Not that she cared, but her attention was drawn to the picture of him standing behind the podium some place in the building.  She was watching rather than listening as she paused in the hallway.

 

   “Hi, Mom,” Josh said, as he appeared around the corner.

 

   Anna turned suddenly at his voice and felt a rush of tears spill from her eyes. 

 

   “Joshua,” Anna gasped and rushed to him, hugging him tightly and not noticing the painful wince it caused.  “Oh my sweet, sweet boy.  My baby, are you all right?”

 

   “I’m sorry,” he said as he closed his eyes and embraced her.  “I tried to call.  There was just no way to get word out of that area.  I never meant for this to happen.”

 

   “I don’t care,” she said softly as she said a quick prayer of thanks before stepping back to give him an appraising look.  “Just as long as you’re all right; are you all right?  What’s is that?  Joshua, you’re hurt.”

 

   “I’m fine,” he said and viewed her sour look.  “We just sort of went rafting… without the raft.  I needed a few stitches, that’s all.  Really, it’s nothing.”

 

   He wasn’t sure he had convinced her, but he didn’t care.  He was tired and glad she hadn’t reacted worse than he expected.  She looked tired and much older than she should, and he knew both were his fault.  He decided to take Leo’s advice and let her do whatever she wanted—even if it meant embarrassing him.  He walked with her back toward his office.  As they approached the bullpen, he spotted Donna coming down the hall with Will Bailey talking to her hurriedly to her as she squeezed his hand.  As they spotted Josh, Donna abandoned the new speech writer and drew closer with a guarded expression.

 

   Donna took an appraising look at Josh then returned to her desk and picked up her phone.  Finding no dial tone, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse then flipped through her rolodex.   Finding the number she wanted, she dialed and made her call while her mother-in-law dealt with Josh, who was attempting to assure her that there was nothing wrong with him.

 

   “You’re lying to me, but I don’t care,” Anna sighed rather than argue.  She examined the bruise on his cheek with disapproval and concern.  “I thought I’d lost for you certain this time.  My heart was broken forever.”

 

   “I’m sorry,” he said guiltily.  “I didn’t know that they had…  I didn’t mean to make you worry.  I’ll make you a promise, if I’m ever dead for real, I’ll call you myself and tell you.  All right?”

 

   “Joshua, that is absolutely not funny,” she scolded lightly.  “We’re taking you to a doctor…”

 

   “I don’t need a doctor,” he said.

 

   “Yes, you do,” Donna said, snapping the phone shut and fixing him with a pointed look.  “They’ll take you now.  We should leave.  I called Dr. Mendon.  He’s waiting.”

 

   “I saw a doctor,” Josh said holding up his hand.  “See, they did some sewing, and they said I’m fine.”

 

   “They lied,” Donna said.  “Let’s go.”

 

   “Wait, my bag is…,” Josh paused then pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to recall where he had put it.  “I think it’s in CJ’s car.  I found this phone….”

 

   “You can get your bag some other time,” Donna said, fishing the keys out of her jacket and preparing to usher him out of the building or summon security, whichever would go more smoothly.  “It’s not important now; the doctor is waiting.”

 

  Josh looked up to see the controlled expression on Donna’s face and wanted to crawl back into the river that had tried to kill him.  She looked restrained and deeply angry.  There was look in her eyes that smacked of agitation that he thought he recognized from the countless conflicts in the summer.  He wasn’t sure he had the energy to go even one round with her nor did he feel up to crafting a deft apology for anything.  He merely looked at her then shrugged.

 

   “Sorry,” he said.  “My bad.”

 

  “Yeah,” she said in a calm tone.  “You ready to go?”

 

   Josh nodded.

 

   “I’m sorry, Donna,” Anna said, stepping away from him.  “I’m monopolizing him.”

 

   “No,” Josh cut in to avoid the discussion.  “It’s the office.  There are…. rules.”

 

   “Oh, you and your rules,” Anna scoffed.  “If your wife wants to….”

 

   “No, Anna,” Donna said.  “Let’s just get going before someone starts asking him to work.”

 

   “Won’t happen,” Leo said approaching from the end of the hallway.  “Anna, Donna, I’m supremely sorry for the mistake.  Truly.  We had information, and I’m glad for once that it was wrong.  I guess I should have known that a Category 5 hurricane and a few hundred million dollars worth of devastation wouldn’t be a problem for Josh.  I’d tell you the law of averages says a mistake like this will never happen again, except this is Josh and we have a saying in this building:  We don’t say the words never and Josh in the same sentence.”

 

   “That would have been a touching eulogy,” Josh remarked but from Leo’s exasperated expression, he could tell it was an ill-advised remark.  “I’m going to shut up now.”

 

   “Donna, he’s not back here until Monday at the earliest,” Leo said.  “Shackle him to something heavy if you have to, but keep him away from here—that’s an order.”

 

   “Leo, I’m telling you…,” Josh started to argue but was silenced by Leo’s raised hand.

 

   “The President said Monday, Josh,” Leo ordered.  “Besides, you look like hell.  Things aren’t exactly a bed of roses here lately.  Having you walking around and looking like an extra in a horror film will just bring us down.  Take the extra day: sleep, apologize to your mother and wife, and try to remember what it means to relax.”

 

********************

 

Press Secretary’s Office

 

   CJ hobbled into her office and sighed gratefully at the familiar surroundings.  She needed to see that everything was still there and in place.  She needed to see it to help her be certain that she was indeed back in her world.  She looked around and felt more grounded than she had in many days. 

 

   “The things you do to get my attention,” said a voice behind her in the door way.

 

   CJ sighed and through her bruised face smiled with a little pain.

 

   “Danny,” she said recognizing the voice as she turned around. 

 

   He looked disheveled and drawn.  There were dark circles under his eyes and there was paleness in his cheeks that made it look as though he had been suffering from a long illness.  Danny approached her and hugged her for a long and lingering moment.  CJ felt tears well up in her eyes and was prepared to blame them on the breaks and scrapes pervading her body if necessary.  However, she blinked them back expertly and straightened her shoulders.

 

   “Where is she?” she said through her swollen lips.

 

   “Carol?” Danny asked, looking over his shoulder.  “No idea.”

 

   “No,” CJ said firmly.  “Gail.”

 

   “Oh,” Danny said guiltily. 

 

   “Where is my fifsh?” CJ asked, looking at the bowl with puzzlement.

 

   “Fifsh?” Danny repeated.  “Oh, fish.  Right.  See, here’s the thing.  I took custody of her when you were dead, because that’s the kind of stand up guy I am.  I take responsibility.  I’m a responsible kind of guy.  It’s one of the many admirable things about me and the reason why I should be loved and perhaps adored.”

 

   “Danny.”

 

   “I only say this because there are a lot of guys who would just walk away,” he continued.  “They don’t take responsibility for fish or other things.  But I did because I’m a … .”

 

   “Where is my fifsh?”

 

   “She wasn’t looking so good,” Danny said.

 

   “Where is…?” CJ began.  “Did you kill her?”

 

   “No,” he argued.  “She was sick—maybe it was a broken heart, you never can be too sure with these fish.  They’re deep creatures.”

 

   “You didn’t fush her did you?”

 

   “Fush?”

 

   “Down the tio-yet,” CJ explained, using hand motions to help with her communication.  “Fush.  Fush.”

 

   “Oh, flush,” Danny nodded.  “No.  I brought her to the vet.”

 

   “You bwought a fish to the doctor?”

 

   “I’m a responsible kind of guy,” Danny replied.  

 

   “So where…”

 

   “And then the vet flushed her.”

 

   “Danny!”

 

   “She got all flakey and her head was pink and white,” he explained.  “I mean, how long could a fish live in the DC sewer system, right?  It was a quick death, I think.”

 

   “Twust me when I said it powably wasn’t,” CJ said, not bothering to say she felt her experience analogous to the way Gail had been treated.

 

   “I’ll buy you a new fish,” he offered.

 

   “I want my ol’ fish,” she insisted.

 

   “You want me to dive into the sewers to find her?”

 

   “You’re a weporter,” CJ offered.  “It’ll be wike a pwomotion.”

 

*******************

 

The Lyman Home

9:30 p.m.

 

   Donna heard the water in the sink stop and the clatter of a toothbrush as it dropped back into the holder.  She sat on the bed wearing her pajamas and waited for Josh to come into the bedroom.  They had returned from the doctor’s office several hours earlier with many medications in hand.  The stitches in Josh’s hand were fine as he had proclaimed.  However, along with them the Mr. Mendon informed her (over Josh’s objections) he also had a budding blood infection from the cuts on his hand, several cracked ribs and a host of other abrasions that needed attention.  The combination of the medications was going to relieve the pain and fight the infection, she was told.  However, she also was certain they would send him into a thick fog of non-comprehension for several days.  She was grateful Leo didn’t want to see him before then.  They would be dealing with Josh, the Beta version, until the first course of medications ran out. 

 

   Anna had gone to bed earlier, claiming she was taking the sleeping pills prescribed for her when this debacle started.  She needed sleep and felt that now she could do so comfortably.  She also put Donna on notice that the following day she intended to tend to her son in a fashion that he would detest but that would satisfy her need to mother him and allow Donna to get the rest she needed. 

 

   So Donna sat in bed, feeling light-headed.  This day was a blur to her.  She would have turned off the light already like she normally did when she turned in (regardless of where Josh was in the house), but he seemed slightly out of sorts and she wasn’t sure if darkness would baffle him.  The last thing he needed was to walk into a dresser and add broken toes to his list of bumps and bruises. 

 

   When he appeared a moment later, she gasped.  He was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and she could see the full extent of what Josh had described as “a little banged up.”

 

  “Oh my god,” she gasped as she got out of the bed and went swiftly to him.  “Josh.”

 

  “It’s nothing,” he said.  “It’s just a few bruises, Donna.  I told you.  CJ got the worst of it.  It looks bad because it’s five days later.  It barely hurts at all.  But it’s nice to know you care.”

 

   “What?”

 

   “You’re pretty pissed at me,” he said.  “I can tell.  I could see it on your face when we were at the office.  You don’t have to say it.  I know; I screwed up.  It wasn’t my fault entirely, but I understand.”

 

   “No, you don’t,” she said suddenly on the verge of tears, putting her arms around him gently. 

 

   “Uh,” he groped for words.  “I… I guess I don’t.  What…. Uh….?”

 

   “I thought I lost you,” she wept.  “And all I could do was cry.  Then by some miracle, you came home and I didn’t want to start crying because I didn’t think I could stop.”

 

   Josh embraced her, despite the soreness in his arms and chest.  It felt good even if it did ache. 

 

   “I thought I was in the doghouse again,” he sighed.  “This is much better.”

 

   “Come here,” she said moving toward the bed.  “You need to rest.  You need to heal.”

 

   “I need to tell you something,” he said seriously. 

 

   “What?” she asked cautiously as she took a seat beside him.

 

   “I lied, a little bit, to you,” he confessed.  “When I said I just cut my finger, that wasn’t all of it.  I lost my wedding ring.  I’m sorry.  I don’t know how it happened.  I think it happened when I got cut, that the ring did it, but I….  Why are you laughing?”

 

   Donna put her hand over her mouth to stop her giggling and wiped the errant tears that trickled from her eyes.  She wrapped her arms around him again and kissed him briefly.

 

   “You thought I’d be mad about that?” she asked chuckling at the absurdity.  “It’s a damn piece of metal.  It can be replaced.”

 

   “I’m sorry?” he replied.  He had been expecting a less subdued reaction.  “It was my wedding ring.  You don’t think that’s important?”

 

   “No, because you can get a new one,” she said warmly.  “Assuming your finger doesn’t fall off from an infection, we’ll manage.  I don’t care about the ring.  I care about you.  I have you back.”

 

   She kissed him and pulled him close.  She managed to turn off the light somehow as she slipped out of her clothing.  Her mind was a blur yet her memory kept drifting back to a time and place that was so different and yet felt so similar: Miami.  Making love to him that night was as equally intense and powerful as it was unexpected.  Some time later, as she lay quietly cradling his head to her chest, she considered the next problem on the horizon.  While she much preferred the most recent turn of events, she wasn’t certain how to deal with it.  Having Josh back was an answered prayer, but what she had to tell him would not be easy.  She was pondering ways to do it when she realized he was not asleep.

 

   “Josh?” she whispered as she felt his fingers tracing her collarbone. 

 

   “Hmm,” he responded.

 

   “How can you be awake?” she asked adjusting her position to look at him.  “You must be exhausted.”

 

   “I’m quite something,” he murmured and grinned proudly.

 

   “I didn’t mean that,” she giggled softly.  “I mean, yes, but mostly you’ve been through a lot.  You should sleep.  Are you in pain?  Do you need anything?”

 

   “I’m fine now that I’m home,” he said softly, stroking her cheek.  “It’s funny I never thought of this place as home until…  Until it looked like I wouldn’t be coming back.”

 

   “Don’t say that,” Donna replied and shivered. 

 

   “Can I ask you something?”

 

   “Sure.”

 

   “Do you still hate me?” he asked, looking at her with a saddened expression.

 

   “What?” she asked.  “Hate you? Josh, I don't hate you.”

 

   “I wouldn’t care if you did,” he said.  “I mean, I would care, but wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

 

   “Why would you think that?” she asked, hurt by the question.  “I never hated you.”

 

   “You said you did,” he reminded her. 

 

   “I was upset and angry,” she explained, wondering how that wasn’t obvious to someone as intelligent as Josh.  “We talked about this a few weeks ago.  Don’t you remember?”

 

   “I know,” he said, the exhaustion filling his brain almost to capacity, but still his mind would not rest yet.  “I was just asking.  After all this, everything I put you through, I wondered if maybe you did again.”

 

   “I never hated you,” she said.  “I know I said it, but I shouldn’t have.  I didn’t mean it.  I’m sorry.  I don’t hate you; I never hated you.”

 

   “It bothered me,” he confessed, looking as hurt as she felt.  “I kept trying to figure out what I had done, but I didn’t know.  I know things got better, but I had a hard time forgetting that you said that.  I was afraid I would keep doing whatever it was and then you’d…”

 

   She placed her hand gently over his lips to stop his words.  She kissed him gently and shook her head.

 

   “It was a hateful thing to say but it wasn’t true,” she promised.  “It was…  Things were complicated; they still are, but I love you.  When I thought I’d lost you, I was sure my world had come to an end.  That’s how much I love you.  Without you, I don’t know that I want to exist.”

 

   Josh looked at her through heavy eyelids.  She looked sad and guilty and scared.  He didn’t understand her expression and worried about it.  Something more was wrong, he could sense it, but his brain was not functioning.  The medication was taking hold.

 

   “Do you believe me?” Donna asked, stroking his cheek.  “I want you to know that—no matter what happened in the past or what happens in the future, I never stopped loving you and I never will.  I may not like you a lot at some moments, but my love doesn’t stop.  I always want you around; I always want to be with you.”

 

   “I like being wanted around by you,” he smirked and yawned.  “It’s kind of like when you used to come to my apartment only totally difference since you didn't stay over much and I think you wore less of my clothing.”

 

   “I don’t wear your clothes that much,” she countered and decided to cut the conversation off as drugged up Josh was more argumentative usually than regular Josh.  “And I didn't stay at your apartment because we agreed that I wouldn't.  It wasn’t a thing, remember?”

 

   “Yeah,” he said then swiftly turned back to the previous topic.  “So, why did you hate me?”

 

   “Not now,” she sighed quietly, stroking his cheek and willing him to give in to sleep.  “Josh, I’m just so happy that you’re home and you’re okay that nothing else matters.  You need to rest so why don’t you…”

 

   “I want you to know that I'm sorry for whatever I did,” he interrupted, apologizing with all the sincerity in him.  “I’m sure that doesn’t mean much since I’m not sure precisely what I did, but I know I'm not really that good of a person when it comes to people and whatever.  I'm just not good at being... not me.”

 

   “Don’t say that,” she said.  “It’s not true.  You’re—“

 

   “No, Donna,” he cut her off.  “I’ve had a lot of time to think in the last few days about how I am and the things I do.  And when we were out there in that storm things were…  It was…”

 

   As he paused, she felt him shudder slightly.  Instinctively, she took his hand, showing comfort and support where no words would suffice.  He met her eyes and before he could make any strategic decisions, he found himself speaking about the ordeal.

 

   “How bad was it?’ she asked, knowing these might be the kind of wounds that needed a different kind of care.

 

   “It was dark,” he said in a small voice.  “Everything.  It was dark, and it was cold. And loud. You couldn't hear anything; not even your own screaming. No one could hear us. We couldn't hear each other. We couldn't see each other. There was just this shrieking from the wind. And the rain was sharp, but I knew one thing.”

 

   “That you were going to die?” she asked painfully.

 

   “No,” he said firmly.  “That I wouldn’t.  I decided that I was coming home; I had to. I never got a chance to say I was sorry or a chance to goodbye to you. So, I had to come home. I'd have walked all the way here if I had to.”

 

   “Oh,” Donna cried and brushed tears from her eyes as she snuggled as close as she dared to his battered body.

 

   “You're my girl and I wanted to come home to you,” he said in a sleepy tone as the exhaustion took over.  “I had to. So I decided I would.”

 

   “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me,” Donna replied

 

   “Yeah, and 'cause no one else is supposed to look at your legs and have sex with you except me,” he muttered as he drifted off.

 

   Donna scowled quickly as she caught the last remark.  She cranked her neck upward to look at him, now sleeping.

 

   “Now that’s my Josh,” she relented a frustrated grin and laid her head back on his chest to let the beat of his heart lull her to sleep.

 

   The following day was quiet at the house.  Donna napped on the couch while Anna was as good as her word and tended to her son.  Donna was not certain how much mothering he needed as he apparently spent most of the day dozing as well.  The drugs were having their predicted affect as well.  Anna did share with Donna that Josh had invited her to stay for as long as she wanted and even encouraged her to live in Washington.  He even put up a bout of pouting when his mother told him she was leaving on Monday to return to her home in Florida.  Both women agreed it was the medication talking and vowed to have as much fun at his expense in the future as possible when reminding him of his behavior.

 

   Anna left in the mid afternoon on Monday.  Josh was still, in his words, grounded.  His doctors advised he not return to work for the rest of the week to which he argued and bargained and received clearance to return on Wednesday.  Donna went to the office in that morning before he woke and gathered files and faxes that he needed to at least know about so that he wasn’t hopelessly behind when he returned.  The medication was still making him loopy by the afternoon, but Donna was able to keep him on task and focused for a few hours while still managing to get the rest he needed.  She was feeling worn down and nauseated and did her best to hide it.  With Josh still partially in La-La land, she did not think it wise to broach the subject of her own medical problem.  She found it difficult to avoid the topic, though, as Sam met her at her desk grinning like a fool and seeking information on how Josh had reacted to the news.  She explained once, curtly, that he was in no condition to hear the news yet, but that only made Sam bolder.  She could see he was bursting at the seams to tell someone what he knew.  She regretted more and more ever telling him.  It would only make things more difficult when the time came.

 

   Donna sent Josh upstairs after lunch to get some sleep as she gathered his papers and made notes for things she needed to do that afternoon for his truncated working schedule the next morning.  With that done, she walked quietly through the house.  Finding nothing more to do, she washed the same coffee mug four times and swept the clean kitchen floor about eight times—all this after reading the paper cover to cover twice and trying (though failing) for more than an hour to find the $29.57 error in her checkbook.  When she cursed at the calculations, she did it softly.

 

   She wasn’t sure she needed to—it was unlikely she would disturb him.  She liked to joke about Josh and his sensitive system—he really was a light weight with any sort of chemical (even a normal dose of caffeine had a strong effect on him).  She wasn’t worried about the medication’s effect on him being negative so much as she was just frustrated with having to play nurse/maid for him.  She didn’t recall minding the job of caretaker so much after his surgery several years ago.  Then again, at that time, she only spent a few hours with him each day, stopping by in the morning to see what he needed, dropping by to see that he ate lunch and finally seeing him for a few minutes in the evening to make sure he wasn’t planning to do anything stupid like try to leave his apartment unsupervised.

 

   This time, however, she was forced to live with him under the same roof and spend every moment there with him.  Her recent estrangement from him had left lingering prickles in her normally placid attitude toward his quirks.  Even though she expected the stereotypical mood swings, she was having a difficult time not snapping at him. 

 

   Certainly she was unspeakably glad he was home and relatively unharmed.  She didn’t mind looking after him in a general way and were it not for the medication; he would certainly be capable of helping himself.  But she was exhausted physically and emotionally after the rollercoaster ride her life had become in recent weeks.  She sat at the table for a while and wept.  She wasn’t sure how much of that was hormonal verse how much was just genuine breaking point.  Not that she cared.  There was one thing she was certain of: her husband was a high-maintenance patient. 

 

   High being the operative word there, she thought.  In the roughly 48 hours since he returned home, she was already eyeing his Percocet with both envy and ire.  The doctor said he would need them to deal with the pain from the cracked bones and the sewing job in his hand.  However, Donna noted, one painkiller appeared to have the power of two on him.  That coupled with the effects of medication fighting off the infection and the basic exhaustion that comes with the healing process needed for the body to repair itself drained a large part of Josh out of Josh.  When he was not operating with his complete faculties, he was a drastically different person.  How she wished she could slip into the semi-goofy relaxed haze where he was spending his day.

 

   Donna expected he would spend much of the day sleeping.  He needed the rest.  She could see that.  But she needed to speak with him at some point; not that she wanted to have this conversation with him but it was necessary.  What she would tell him precisely was still a mystery to Donna. 

 

   She entered the living room intent upon finding something to watch on television, though she was certain there was nothing worth watching during daylight hours.  She needed something to make her stop weeping and stop thinking.  Dwelling on what was about the happen only made her more anxious and that made her feel anger toward anything that crossed her path, which likely meant Josh as he was frequently within her sights.  Though, she considered, she probably could strike him once or twice and he’d never notice.  Dismissing such thoughts as patently unsportsmanlike, Donna grabbed the TV remote from a bookcase then turned to the sofa.

 

   “Are we watching something?” he asked from his reclining position on the couch.

 

   “Josh,” she yelped in surprise.  “What are you doing here?  How did you get down here?”

 

   “I walked,” he said.  “I think.”

 

   “Did you need anything?”

 

   “I was lonely,” he said and offered her a grin.

 

   “Ah, you took your pills,” she surmised.  “I left them on the bed stand because you were asleep when I went upstairs after lunch.”

 

   “Yeah, and then I was lonely,” Josh replied, pulling himself up to a sitting position.  “Come here.”

 

   He beckoned to her.  She sighed then did as requested.  She did not mind Josh being affectionate (or what he in his right mind would call needlessly—possibly revoltingly—mushy).  And, even though they were chemical induced moments, she enjoyed Josh letting his guard down with her.  She knew it would not last and part of her was thankful.  She was afraid she could get used to having a sensitive husband and would be sorely disappointed with the real Josh Lyman returned after his prescription was complete.  There were only a few more pills in the bottle, she knew.

 

   There’s something wonderful about the other him, too, she thought—though specifics of what that something was tended to be difficult to put into words or recognize without wanting to strangle him first some days.

 

   “I should enjoy this while it lasts,” she said as she sat next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

 

   “Probably,” he replied.  “Enjoy what?”

 

   Some part of him knew this was all a hazy dream and he would wake up to find he was still something or other at that place where the President worked.

 

   “Never mind,” she shook her head testily.  “How are you feeling?”

 

   “I still love you.”

 

   “I should consider getting you drunk or keeping you drugged a couple times a year so that I can hear that,” Donna sighed.  “And don’t argue with me or apologize.  It’s not the real you talking.”

 

   “But I do,” he assured her as he pulled her close and settled back into a more relaxed position.

 

 “I know you do, Josh,” she relented, feeling horrible for showing him her temper when he had done nothing to provoke it.  “It’s just not like you to say that.  I don’t mind when you do, and I think it would be creepy if you said it all the time.  It just makes the times when you do say it more special.”

 

   “Say what?” he asked groggily.

 

   “Precisely,” she answered and patted him on the cheek.  “Good back to sleep, Dopey.”

 

*****************

Tuesday, 11:13 a.m.

 

   Donna gathered the rest of the morning’s work off the kitchen table.  Josh was without medication today as he geared up for a return to the office tomorrow—a day ahead of CJ, he proudly proclaimed as if there was an office pool (which, considering the overly competitive atmosphere of the office was a possibility).  She was still restricting his phone calls to just those from Leo and Toby.  He was not pleased about this but had not choice.  He was still recovering and she still was able to get the phone quicker than he was; that and she had locked out usage of his cell phone and he had no idea how to under the security device.  However, it was her need to neatness that was her undoing.  She was intent upon straightening the papers and notes as she tucked them into his messenger bag and by doing so was two steps further from the phone than Josh was when it rang.

 

   "Josh Lyman," he said as he snatched the phone from the craddle.  "Samuel."

 

   Donna snapped her head around and gaped at him.

 

   “Did you talk to Toby?” Josh asked.  “What the hell is up with—  What?”

 

   Josh paused and looked at Donna quizzically.

 

   “What do I think about what?" Josh asked Sam.  "Yes, she's right here.... Nothing, why?"

 

   He then turned to Donna.  She trusted Sam not to say anything.  He promised, yet her nerves were tingling and her confidence wavering.  As Josh turned to her, she shivered. 

 

   "What are you supposed to tell me?" Josh asked her. 

 

   "Please get off the phone, Josh," she said stiffly.

 

   "She's not telling me anything," Josh said turning back to his conversation with Sam and ignoring her request.  "What was it?.... She's got something tell me? How do you know?... Oh, you just know?  Well, that’s great, Sam.  I’m happy for you....  You’re happy for me, too?  Great...  That’s fine, but why are you— You’re what?....  Well, I'm glad that you're glad, Sam.  Really, because you know your happiness is in my top 400 priorities normally so...."

 

   "Get off the phone, Josh," Donna said firmly interrupting the conversation.

 

   "I'm being ordered to stop talking to you," Josh said.  "Are either of us in trouble?"

 

   Donna sensed that that comment opened too many doors for the wily speechwriter to toss a telling comment innocently yet intentionally.  Donna decided to channel her jitters into some useful action.  She grabbed the phone from Josh’s hand.

 

   "Hi, Sam. Good-bye, Sam," she said and swiftly disconnected. 

 

   “Something bothering you?” he asked as he opened the refrigerator and took out orange juice. 

 

   "Now is not the time,” she shook her head.

 

   “For orange juice?” he asked slightly confused.  He stared into the glass then looked back at her.  “You’ve got something against Florida crops?”

 

   “What?”

 

   “Aren’t we talking about orange juice?”

 

  In a burst of nerves and exhausted logic, Donna felt the words rushing over her lips.  Do this like removing a band aide, she told herself.  The quicker it’s done the less painful it will be.

   “Yeah, speaking of juice,” she said in a rush.  “I’m pregnant.”

   Josh paused with the glass in mid-air.  He froze for a moment then looked at her with a puzzled expression.

   “I’m sorry?”

   Donna waited for the rant to begin, the testy, annoyed, how-the-hell-did-this-happen tirade she had been expecting and planning to weather.  She was ready for it.  She had all of her answers and was ready for the questions despite the butterfly shivers in her stomach, her sweating palms and shaking knees. 

   “I said speaking of juice, I’m pregnant,” she repeated, firm in her courage.  His expression remained blank.  “Josh, this is the part where you say something.  Anything.  I’m ready, so out with it.”

   He put the glass on the counter and turned to face her. 

   “I thought you said you couldn’t,” Josh recalled.  “That we’d never…”

   “Well, see, the thing is,” she said back peddling for a moment.  “When I said can’t, I may have been overstating it.  It’s complicated.”

   “No, it’s not,” he said then unexpectedly grinned and hugged her.  “Who da man?”

   Donna heard a ringing in her ears and her knees felt like jelly.  This was not part of the plan; her mind reeled.  He’s supposed to be mad and upset and angry and yelling and… mad.  When he’s mad he’s not going to  want….  Oh my god.  This isn’t happening.

   “Josh,” she said hesitantly then stepped back from him.  Her heart was racing and her skin felt clammy.  She looked hard at his eyes.  “I…. uh…  I have to….”

   “What?” he asked, still smiling in a pleased and hopeful way that further stabbed at Donna’s heart. 

   “I forgot,” she lied.  “I was supposed to call my mother.  I have to do that.  Now.”

   “Now?  Donna!” he said.  “You have to do that now?”

   “Yes,” she answered quickly and started to edge out of the room.

   “What is it?” he asked.  “Is something wrong?  You seem agitated.”

   “No,” she lied.  “Maybe your fever is spiking again.  You should go lay down.”

   “Donna, I’m fine; I don’t have a fever,” he protested.  “You tell me something like this and….  I mean, isn’t this something that you’d want to talk about; you’re the one who thinks talking is… you know, a good thing.  Why….”

   “Josh, it’s complicated,” she said quickly.  “I need to talk to my mother.”

   “That’s fine, but right now?” he persisted.  “Why this very second?”

   “I… I..  uh.,” she stammered.  “I forgot that my mother knows.  I… Uh…. I don’t want her to tell anyone.”

   “Why not?”

   “Yeah, why not?” she repeated more quietly to herself.  “Because…. Because you don’t know.”

   “I do now,” he grinned. 

   “Right, but… uh…. I want to tell her that you know so she knows that you know so she knows that other people who shouldn’t know still shouldn’t but could if she told them, which I don’t want her to,” Donna stated.

   Josh shook his head and rubbed his eyes.  He tried parsing the sentence and he began to get dizzy and his temples started to throb.

   “Okay, that made absolutely no sense,” he said after a moment.  “What’s going on?  Donna?”

   “Josh, I need to speak to my mother,” Donna said.  “I… I want to tell her the news.”

   “You just said she knows—or something that in intelligible English would mean that,” he remarked.

   “Right, but she doesn’t know that she knows,” Donna lied, badly.  Josh looked at her questioningly but did not pursue it.  “It’s complicated.”

   “I got that,” he said suspiciously.  “Donna, what’s going on?”

   “I want to call my mother and you’re giving me the third degree!” she said hotly. 

   “Sorry,” he relented quickly.  “I was just…. You’re acting strange, even for you.  If you want to call your mother, please do.  I didn’t mean you couldn’t, you were just…  I don’t understand what’s going on here.  You tell me this and now you’re acting…  I just don’t understand.”

   Donna said nothing more.  She left the room quickly and went upstairs.  She closed their bedroom door and dialed her mother’s phone number in Wisconsin.  There was no answer.  She tried her cellular phone without much hope.  The woman never turned the phone on, believing it was for emergency use only when she was on the road.  Next Donna dialed the only other person on the planet who might be able to track her mother. 

   The phone on the other end rang four times before being answered in a most expected and yet unprofessional manner.

   “Ralph Moss, Vice President of Stuff that's not important or pressing,” her brother said.

   “Ralph,” Donna said thankfully.  “You’re at home not at the office—and you shouldn’t answer the phone that way at work in the first place.”

   “Hey, Little Girl!” he said warming to the conversation.  “Are you calling to give me phone etiquette tips?’

   “No.”

   “Good, because I don’t want any,” he chuckled.  “How are you?  How’s Josh?  I heard he was dead for a little while.  Isn’t that guy ever careful?”

   “Not usually, no,” Donna said. 

   “That’s what he has you for, I guess.”

   “Sure.”

 

   “Okay, what is it?” her older brother asked with concern.  “Something is wrong.  I know that tone.”

 

    “No, there’s no tone,” Donna asserted.  “I’m just….  You sound real busy and I don’t want to keep you long.”

 

   “Yeah, I’m swamped,” Ralph yawned.  “My rubber band ball fell off my desk.  I've got pick it up or something.  Guess that's why I get paid the big bucks and have this dandy home office, huh?”

 

   “I know you enjoy pretending you’re the family idiot and company slacker, but you’re a great salesman and that’s why they made you the vice president for marketing,” Donna said.  She always worried about her bother’s self-deprecation; he never gave himself the credit he deserved.

 

   “And here I thought it was because I’m married to the CEO’s daughter,” Ralph quipped.  “No wonder you work for the White House, Donna.  You’re so smart.”

 

   “Ralph, please I don’t have time for this right now,” Donna pleaded.  “I need some help.  I’ve tried to call Mom, but I can’t reach her.  I mean, she called me after Josh got home, but we didn’t talk long and now I need to talk to her.  Do you know where she is?”

 

   “Yeah, she’s at Frannie’s,” he answered, explaining that their older sister’s daughter had had her tonsils taken out the previous day and their mother had driven to Texas to see her.  “Mom’s there making a federal case out of it so Frannie feels doted upon.  Don’t get me started.”

 

   “Oh,” Donna said crestfallen.  “She’s at Frannie’s.  Did she happen to say when she’d be leaving?”

 

   “I don't think so,” Ralph said sourly.  “But that doesn't mean it's true.  I might have and blocked it out or forgotten her name or something.”

 

   “Ralph,” Donna sighed.  “Please.  She doesn’t mean anything when she does that.”

 

   “No, Donna,” he cut in.  “You know how much I hate it when….   Look, she called Tad ‘Kermit’ the last time she was here.  Can you believe that?  Her own grandson and she can’t get his name right.  It’s not like she has a slew of them around and it’s confusing.  The poor kid cried because he thinks his grandmother doesn’t know who he is.”

 

   “She's never been good with anyone's name,” Donna said in her mother’s defense.  Donna was certain Ralph had never fully gotten over being named Raphael Marcello Moss—a name he couldn’t properly pronounce until after taking speech lessons in school for several years.  “And, in her defense, Tad does tend to hop a lot.”

 

   “She has no clue Kermit is the name of a frog and you know it,” he replied though his tone was less sharp.  “As for your defense of her, I'd argue that her memory is selective.  She remembers Josh's name without any trouble.  Speaking of Josh, other than him not being dead, how are things between the two of you?”

 

   The last time Donna had spoken with her brother was in the late summer when things were not well.  The picture she painted of her marriage at that time was less than cheery. 

 

   “Yeah,” she said held back a sob.  “Wonderful.”

 

   “See,” Ralph crowed.  “I told you all you needed was a little break to get some perspective.”

 

   “Perspective?”  Donna repeated.  “Listen, Ralph.  I need to talk to someone and for reasons you’ll understand in a moment, I can’t talk to Mom because she’s at Frannie’s.  So, you’re all I’ve got right now.  Remember when I called you when everything was so bad with Josh and then things got better and I was telling you everything that had gone on before that?”

 

   “Yeah,” he said with trepidation.

 

   “Well, it turns out I left one part out,” she said.

 

   “Like what?”

 

   “Like the part where it turns out I’m pregnant,” Donna said painfully. 

 

   “Oh my god,” Ralph gasped, understanding her dilemma.   “What did Josh say?  How did he react?”

 

   “He’s ecstatic,” she said as the tears started to flow again.

 

   “What the hell?!” Ralph squawked in disbelief.  “He was happy about it?”

 

   “He doesn’t know,” Donna cried.  “I didn’t tell him the whole truth.”

 

   “Donna!” he scolded.  “You didn’t tell him that you…  Oh my god, Donna!  No!  You can’t do that.  You have to tell him the truth.  You are playing with fire, little girl!”

 

   “But he was so happy,” Donna wept.  “After everything he just went thought, I just… I can’t.”

 

   “You have to,” Ralph commanded.  “Listen to me, Donna.  Don't do this.  If you’re going to try to have this baby, you have to tell him the truth.  He deserves to know.”

 

  “Ralph, you didn’t see his face,” she cried. 

 

   “You shouldn’t be having this baby and you know it,” her brother said sternly.  “You’re lying to him, Donna.  Justify it all you want, but it’s essentially lying.  Do you love him?”

 

   “Yes, I do,” she sobbed. 

 

   “Then tell him the truth.”

 

  “I can’t do that to him,” she said painfully.  “If he hadn’t been happy—I was sure he would think it was a bad thing or the wrong thing or the wrong time—and then I could have just dealt with it fine; I had a plan for that.  I knew what I would do to make it right.  But I got it wrong; I made a mistake.  I’ve made a lot of them lately and I don’t know what to do.”

 

  “You have to tell him the truth is what you have to do,” Ralph ordered.  “What is that term you use?  Damage control.  Time to start doing that.”

 

   “No,” she protested though she knew he was right.  “You don’t understand.  He was so happy.”

 

   “Of course he was happy,” Ralph snapped.  “He thinks he’s going to be a father!  But he’s not, Donna, and you know it.  If you love him, you have to tell him the whole truth.”

 

 

Up next—Chapter 16