Rock Me to Sleep
Author: natlski
Spoilers: Crackpots and These Women, In the Shadow of Two Gunmen, parts I & II, Midterms; story takes place between ItSoTG and ITWH
Rating: G
Disclaimer: "Rock Me To Sleep" belongs to Jill Sobule and Richard Barone and Feel My Pain Music/WB Music Corp. Josh Lyman, Donna, etc. belong to NBC (I think, I do know that they don't belong to me!)
Author's Note: The story was completely inspired by Jill Sobule's song "Rock Me To Sleep". Every time I hear the song I think of Josh so I finally wrote the story. Thank you, as always, to Classic She who is the most amazing beta a writer could ever ask for!
3 am
Josh Lyman awoke with a start; his head pounding in time with his panicked heart beat caused by the lingering images of his nightmare. Easing himself back down, he glanced sideways. The glowing numbers of the digital clock on his bed stand read 3:00 a.m. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the remaining fear and panic, but he couldn't shake the unsettled feeling left behind by the reoccurring nightmare. It was akin to his childhood, when he'd awake from a nightmare of smoke, flames, and screams, too afraid to move and feeling so small and alone.
He closed his eyes and pulled his hands over his face, pressing slim fingers against burning eyes. "I wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep." He mumbled dropping his hands to his sides and feeling very much alone in the large bed; feeling very much alone in his life.
He gingerly curled himself into a ball, mindful of his still too tender chest, and fervently wished for sleep to come. It had been two days since Donna had moved back to her apartment. Two days since his nightmares had intensified, along with his feelings of abandonment and loneliness. His mind stubbornly refused to settle, constantly replaying scenes from his life, both real and imagined. A strangled sob broke the silence. Josh tried to control the shaking of his body, curling further into himself. Again, he desperately wished for some comfort; someone to hold him, to stoke his head, to whisper that everything would be alright. "I wish I had someone to rock me to sleep." His mind repeated endlessly.
Josh carefully rolled over and opened his eyes, his sight adjusted to the darkness, as he glanced around the room, taking inventory. A book on the bed stand, a copy of some old, obscure physics text Donna had found for him at a used book store. A little TV in the corner, dark and silent. A drink, placed by Donna the night before, when she had "tucked him in". An ashtray, his grandfather's; all traces of smoke or ash long since cleaned away, now holding pocket change. These were the silent sentinels of his night.
The sycamore tree outside his window cast long dark shadows across the walls and ceiling creating unnatural hand-shaped images. He shivered, remembering his childhood night terrors. After working up the courage, he would sprint to Joanie's room and slide into her bed. She'd cradle him in her arms, promising to always protect him. Later, when images of flames haunted him, the strong arms of his father and the gentle caresses of his mother would make him feel safe.
He remembered late nights as a little boy, when unable to sleep, his mother had held him. Curly locked head resting against her shoulder, thumb stuck in his mouth, legs drawn up; he'd felt safe with her arms tight around him. The combination of the steady rhythm of her heart and the creak of the old rocking chair was enough to chase away the insomnia, the lingering nightmares. "I wish I had my Mama." He thought, instantly feeling foolish: after all, he was nearly 40 years old.
He thought back to his first night home from the hospital. The first night he'd awoken with screams from a nightmare. The first night that Donna had taken him in her arms and held him. She had held him while he cried for the pain and the unfairness of the situation. She had held him while he cried for Joanie and for his guilt over surviving. She had held him, stroking his curls and whispering comfort while he cried for his father and his guilt over never getting to say goodbye. She had held him until he stopped crying. She had held him until he closed his eyes, rocking him until he fell asleep. And when morning came, the horizon glowing pink, the street lamps flickering off and the sounds of traffic increasing, she held him, safe in her arms.
He felt his despair deep, a clenching in his chest as his mind ticked off all that he'd lost.
"I wish I had Joanie back."
"I wish I had my father back."
"I wish I had my Mama here."
He crooned his lullaby, over and over, trying to sooth himself. Josh pressed his face into his pillow to absorb the tears, wishing he could sink into oblivion; into a dreamless sleep.
"I wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep." He whispered into the fabric.
6 am
Josh Lyman heaved a frustrated sigh and turned to look at the clock on his bed stand; six in the morning, he'd been up since three. Another night lost. He knew that Donna would soon be by, checking in on him on her way to the office. She would ask him how he had slept and how he was feeling. He would lie and tell her everything was fine, all the while wishing he could tell her that he wanted her back, that he wanted her there to hold him in the night, that he wanted her to rock him to sleep.
"I wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep."
finis
Author: natlski
Spoilers: Crackpots and These Women, In the Shadow of Two Gunmen, parts I & II, Midterms; story takes place between ItSoTG and ITWH
Rating: G
Disclaimer: "Rock Me To Sleep" belongs to Jill Sobule and Richard Barone and Feel My Pain Music/WB Music Corp. Josh Lyman, Donna, etc. belong to NBC (I think, I do know that they don't belong to me!)
Author's Note: The story was completely inspired by Jill Sobule's song "Rock Me To Sleep". Every time I hear the song I think of Josh so I finally wrote the story. Thank you, as always, to Classic She who is the most amazing beta a writer could ever ask for!
3 am
Josh Lyman awoke with a start; his head pounding in time with his panicked heart beat caused by the lingering images of his nightmare. Easing himself back down, he glanced sideways. The glowing numbers of the digital clock on his bed stand read 3:00 a.m. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the remaining fear and panic, but he couldn't shake the unsettled feeling left behind by the reoccurring nightmare. It was akin to his childhood, when he'd awake from a nightmare of smoke, flames, and screams, too afraid to move and feeling so small and alone.
He closed his eyes and pulled his hands over his face, pressing slim fingers against burning eyes. "I wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep." He mumbled dropping his hands to his sides and feeling very much alone in the large bed; feeling very much alone in his life.
He gingerly curled himself into a ball, mindful of his still too tender chest, and fervently wished for sleep to come. It had been two days since Donna had moved back to her apartment. Two days since his nightmares had intensified, along with his feelings of abandonment and loneliness. His mind stubbornly refused to settle, constantly replaying scenes from his life, both real and imagined. A strangled sob broke the silence. Josh tried to control the shaking of his body, curling further into himself. Again, he desperately wished for some comfort; someone to hold him, to stoke his head, to whisper that everything would be alright. "I wish I had someone to rock me to sleep." His mind repeated endlessly.
Josh carefully rolled over and opened his eyes, his sight adjusted to the darkness, as he glanced around the room, taking inventory. A book on the bed stand, a copy of some old, obscure physics text Donna had found for him at a used book store. A little TV in the corner, dark and silent. A drink, placed by Donna the night before, when she had "tucked him in". An ashtray, his grandfather's; all traces of smoke or ash long since cleaned away, now holding pocket change. These were the silent sentinels of his night.
The sycamore tree outside his window cast long dark shadows across the walls and ceiling creating unnatural hand-shaped images. He shivered, remembering his childhood night terrors. After working up the courage, he would sprint to Joanie's room and slide into her bed. She'd cradle him in her arms, promising to always protect him. Later, when images of flames haunted him, the strong arms of his father and the gentle caresses of his mother would make him feel safe.
He remembered late nights as a little boy, when unable to sleep, his mother had held him. Curly locked head resting against her shoulder, thumb stuck in his mouth, legs drawn up; he'd felt safe with her arms tight around him. The combination of the steady rhythm of her heart and the creak of the old rocking chair was enough to chase away the insomnia, the lingering nightmares. "I wish I had my Mama." He thought, instantly feeling foolish: after all, he was nearly 40 years old.
He thought back to his first night home from the hospital. The first night he'd awoken with screams from a nightmare. The first night that Donna had taken him in her arms and held him. She had held him while he cried for the pain and the unfairness of the situation. She had held him while he cried for Joanie and for his guilt over surviving. She had held him, stroking his curls and whispering comfort while he cried for his father and his guilt over never getting to say goodbye. She had held him until he stopped crying. She had held him until he closed his eyes, rocking him until he fell asleep. And when morning came, the horizon glowing pink, the street lamps flickering off and the sounds of traffic increasing, she held him, safe in her arms.
He felt his despair deep, a clenching in his chest as his mind ticked off all that he'd lost.
"I wish I had Joanie back."
"I wish I had my father back."
"I wish I had my Mama here."
He crooned his lullaby, over and over, trying to sooth himself. Josh pressed his face into his pillow to absorb the tears, wishing he could sink into oblivion; into a dreamless sleep.
"I wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep." He whispered into the fabric.
6 am
Josh Lyman heaved a frustrated sigh and turned to look at the clock on his bed stand; six in the morning, he'd been up since three. Another night lost. He knew that Donna would soon be by, checking in on him on her way to the office. She would ask him how he had slept and how he was feeling. He would lie and tell her everything was fine, all the while wishing he could tell her that he wanted her back, that he wanted her there to hold him in the night, that he wanted her to rock him to sleep.
"I wish I had somebody to rock me to sleep."
finis