A Life Story: My Mother's Son Part 1
By Sunny
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm just playing with them.
Spoilers: Probably none but let's say everything to be safe.
Pairings: Josh/OFC, Toby/Donna, Sam/CJ
Summary: The life of Josh, as told by Josh

I remember many years ago when I was a small boy, overhearing my
father talking to his friends. I remember because they happened to be
talking about me. "He is his mother's son," my father said. At the
time I was very upset, when he said this for I thought, `I'm your son
too.' But as I stand here today I know the truth, I am my Mother's
son.

~February 2002~
~The White House~

My father had always told me that women were the easiest creatures in the world. I always thought he meant they were easy to know, to date, to love. Obviously, I was wrong, or he was.

I had never been any good at relationships. I told this to Amy but she didn't believe me. I told her that when I was in school and everyone around me was learning about girls and how to deal with them I was too busy trying to keep my grades up. I like to boast that I
have a really high IQ, which I do, but I had to work at it. Anyway, my assistant Donna Moss told me that I had to learn to develop a relationship with a woman. I had to stop bumping into them and hope that they would break up with me soon. As I looked around me, I realized that she was right. But I needed help, so I went to the most educated man I know in dealing with relationships.

"I need your help," I say as I stand nervously in the doorway.

"With what," Toby asks without looking up from the draft he is working on.

"Valentines day," I reply.

Toby peers at me over the top of his glasses. "It's that time of year already?"

"Yeah," I say as I walk into the room. "I want to get to Amy something special."

"How about flowers," Toby suggests.

"Too easy," I brush off.

"Candy?"

"Too obvious."

"Cause you're a straight shooter," Toby smirks.

"Yeah," I agree. "Any other ideas?"

"Nope. Those always worked for me," Toby says as he goes back to work.

"That is so old school," I tease.

Toby looks back up. "It still works."

"I bet you it doesn't," I reply.

So maybe I'm not as smart as I thought. I lost a hundred dollars and my girlfriend meanwhile Toby ended up with my money and a wife, namely my aforementioned assistant. At least he let her keep working for me between all the maternity leaves. I couldn't understand how my way never worked. I mean I am an intelligent good-looking man; women should be falling at my feet begging me to marry them. Shouldn't they? Instead I have spent an unreasonable amount of my adult life going from one dead end relationship to another with no end in sight. Was it my pre-ordained destiny to remain single? I really hope not, cause I would kinda like to try the marriage thing.

See the thing I don't understand about this is my parents were happily married for nearly forty years. They lost a daughter and raised a son and through it all managed to keep a good perspective of life and marriage. Why none of this rubbed off on me I'll never know. My sister Joanie died when I was very young. I remember bits and pieces of what happened but it's not something I care to discuss, with anyone. I loved Joanie very much and I still do. Maybe that's why I can't let myself go enough to fall in love with someone. Maybe I'm too afraid of getting hurt again. Maybe I'm just retarded. Not in the head, in the heart.

I do remember a time when I thought that my parents weren't going to stay together. They shielded me a lot from the troubles that they had but they couldn't shield everything. I would catch sections of whispered conversations or see the frustration in my Mother's face as she watched my Father walk away. Sometimes she would cry and I would
think to myself, `she should be stronger, like Dad.' In the end it seemed that Mom was the one who would compromise. She always backed down and let Dad be the victor, that was the way it should be, or so I thought.

"What are you doing," Sam asks as he peers through the doorway.

"Nothing," I reply.

"Were you on the phone," he asks cautiously as he enters my office.

"No," I smile.

"Then who were you talking to," he says peering at me suspiciously.

"Talking? I wasn't talking."

"Ok," he smiles unconvinced. "How did your weekend go with Amy?"

I moan and lay my head on my desk. "If you ever ask Toby for advice about women, do whatever he tells you."

"That bad," he says sympathetically.

"Lets just say that Amy is never going to change her name for me," I say as I lift up my head and smile weakly.

"I'm sorry. I hear that Toby and Donna had a good time," he says trying to cheer me up.

"Yeah," I agree sarcastically. "That's just what I need a gloating Toby and a perky Donna."

"Donna is always perky," Sam points out.

"Oh yeah. Especially after she gets laid. And I really don't want to hear about her getting laid by Toby Ziegler."

"Toby laid Donna," he asks with interest.

"Not yet that I'm aware of," I clarify. "But I can tell it's not far off."

"I have to go talk to Toby," he says as he turns and starts for the door.

Sam's a great guy. He's been my friend for many years and just like me he has never been married. But unlike me, he was engaged. That's one step closer to marriage. Though I am glad that he never went through with it. His fiancée, Lisa, was too self-absorbed. Everything was about her and her incessant need to be a part of the `right' crowd. She never liked me; I was the skeleton in the closet that should be kept hidden, the dark influence that led Sam to do evil things, like work for the President of the United States. Yeah, that's a bad thing.

~July 2002~

"Do you think that I'll ever see this day," I ask.

"What the hell does that mean," Donna yells from the bathroom. "Today is here."

"I mean my own wedding day," I try to explain. She comes out of the bathroom looking more beautiful than I have ever seen her and I feel a twinge of jealousy.

Looking at me seriously, she says, "It will happen when you least expect it."

"Did you expect this," I ask.

"Me marrying Toby?"

I nod at her.

"Honestly, up until a few months ago I was convinced that I would be marrying you," she says softly.

"Really," I say surprised.

"Really," she smiles as she lays her hand on my arm.

"I could never be the man that Toby is," I say soberly.

"I hope the hell not," she replies quickly. "One grouchy Communications Director is enough."

"Speaking of which, I suppose I should escort you downstairs," I smile. "Prince Charming awaits."

She laughs and takes my arm as I lead her out of the room and down the hall. I am extremely honored that she asked me to be the one to give her away. There is a lot of history between her and I and Toby, for without either one of them I would probably not be here. Toby Ziegler found me on that fateful day in Roslyn. I had been shot and was in no shape to call for help. For some reason, unknown to either of us, he searched for me even though everyone thought I had left.

After the surgery and a longer than necessary stay in the hospital I was sent home where Donna oversaw my recovery. She was very diligent in taking care of me, ensuring that I took my medication, slept enough, ate enough and didn't get worked up. Hell, she even managed to keep Toby in line, I should have known then that she was the woman for him but my relationship handicap goes far beyond my own relationships. I can't figure out other peoples either.

~December 2002~

Even though I'm Jewish I really like Christmas. Well, not really Christmas, I like the decorations namely the tree. The smell of the pine and the way the lights reflect off of the varying decorations are a delight to the senses. I'm standing in the main entryway checking out the 20-foot tall blue spruce when I see the most beautiful woman in my life. She looks at me and smiles and I smile back at her.

"Do you work here," she asks.

I nod at her stupidly with a grin still plastered to my face.

"Could you tell me how to get to the Oval office," she asks.

"That depends," I say. She raises an eyebrow at me enquiringly. "Are you a terrorist?"

She laughs at this and shakes her head.

"Well then, do you have some ID that says you can go into the White House alone?"

She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a badge. Taking a closer look I see that she is with the Secret Service. "Are you going to be protecting the President?"

"That depends," she replies. "Are you a terrorist?"

"No. I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff," I tell her with a laugh.

"Then you must be Josh Lyman," she states as she holds out her hand.

"You have me at a disadvantage," I say as I shake her hand.

"I'm Lauren Randall," she says.

"It's nice to meet you. Come on, I'll take you to the Oval office."

She follows me down the hall and I give her a running dialogue as we walk. She asks me questions and I try my best to answer her hoping that I'm making a good impression.

"Well here we are," I say as we enter the outer office. "Hey Charlie. This is Agent Randall."

"Hi," Charlie says as he stands up. "I'll let the President know you're here."

Charlie disappears in the Oval office leaving us alone again.

"So…do you have a boyfriend," I ask.

"Do you have a girlfriend," she counters.

"I do if you don't," I smile.

"Agent Randall," Charlie says from the door. "The President will see you now."

She starts to walk away from me and I watch her every move. Suddenly she stops and turns around.

"I'm available," she says quietly. "I'll come find you when I'm done here."

"Ok," I reply with a small case of shock. Charlie gives me a look that I interpret as `way to go!' before closing the door and hindering my view of her. My smile becomes gigantic as I turn to find my way to my own office where I can wait for her in peace and quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~

I'm taking, like my seven millionth phone call when she walks into my office. What I had hoped would be peace and quiet turned into the office from hell. It seemed that every person in the United States was calling and they all wanted to talk to me. Frustrated, I hang up the phone on whomever it was that I wasn't paying attention to in the first place, and turn my attention to her.

"I can come back later," she offers.

"No. Now is a good time," I tell her.

Donna breezes in through my open door and thrusts a pile of papers under my nose. "Here are some more phone messages, your copy of the education bill that Leo wants you to memorize by this afternoon, and your mail. There's a letter from your Mother that you should read right away," she tells me.

"I'll read it later," I say to her back as she steps out of my office.

"Read it now," she yells.

"Donna," I scream in what I hope is a commanding voice and not like a wimpy school kid. She peers back in the room. "I have a guest. Close the door."

Donna peers at me blankly then looks at Lauren. She looks back at me, and smiles. "Don't blow it," she says as she pulls the door shut.

"She's pretty," Lauren points out. "How come you don't date her?"

"Well, for one she's my assistant," I explain. "And secondly, she's married to a guy who would rather beat me up then give me the time of day. Actually, she's married to Toby Ziegler our Communications Director and even though he tells people he doesn't like me, he really does. I mean he does things for me that he won't do for anyone else. Of course that might be because of Donna. However…"

"Do you ramble like this all of the time," she cuts in.

I swallow hard. "Only when I'm nervous."

"Do I make you nervous," she questions.

"I'm not sure if it's you or my imagination," I smile.

She laughs out loud. It's not one of those polite chuckles either, it's a full-blown laugh and it makes me feel like I'm the funniest man on Earth. Suddenly, I'm not so nervous anymore.

"Would you like to have dinner with me," I ask as she settles down.

"I'd love to," she replies. "Tonight?"

"Seven o'clock," I counter.

"Sounds good," she says as she grabs a notepad and a pen from my desk. She scribbles something on the paper then sets it on my desk. "Here's where I'm staying. I'll see you at seven."

"I'll be there," I promise. She smiles and walks over to the door.

"I'm definitely looking forward to this," she says and then she walks out the door.

I pick up the notepad and memorize the words. Her handwriting is loopy and girlish which makes me smile. It's nice to know that some secret service agents have a soft side too.

"Who was that," Donna asks as she walks into my office.

"Lauren Randall," I reply. "She's with the secret service."

"What did you do this time," she asks sounding like my mother rather than my assistant.

"I asked her out to dinner."

"Really?" Donna says sounding surprised. "You asked a woman out to dinner without moaning and whining for weeks on end?"

"Don't you have a husband you could torture?" I ask.

"I do," she replies. "But he's at the doctors."

"Is something wrong," I ask concerned.

"Well…no," she blushes.

"Donna?"

"Promise me you won't say anything to anyone," she says.

"I promise," I say.

"Swear to me on your father's grave."

"Now you're scaring me," I tell her.

"Swear to it," she repeats.

"I swear on my fathers grave that I won't say anything to anyone," I promise. "I won't even talk to Toby."

"He's having a sperm count done," she whispers.

"Excuse me," I say in shock.

"We're trying to find out why I can't get pregnant or stay pregnant," she explains.

"What does a sperm count have to do with it," I ask in confusion.

"You have to have at least twenty million sperm in order to make a baby."

"Twenty million? I thought it only took one," I replied.

"Well, that's true," she agrees. "Only one sperm can fertilize an egg but you guys have to make twenty million of them at a time."

"No wonder we're so tired after sex," I tell her. "You women make us do all of the work."

"Do you know why it takes twenty million sperm," she asks irritated. I shake my head. "It takes that many sperm to find the egg, cause none of them will stop and ask directions. Just like a man!"

"Are you mad at me," I ask.

"What do you think?"

"I think you should have gone with Toby."

"I wanted to but he wouldn't let me," she pouted. "He muttered something about being a big boy and not needing me to hold his hand."

"Maybe you could have held something else," I tease.

"That's it," she says. "I'm going out to my desk."

"I'm sorry," I yell at her back.

"Forgiven," she yells back. I smile to myself and study the notepad again before looking at the clock. The day is going to crawl by.

At 6:30 I'm so wound up I can hardly stand myself. Donna is so sick of listening to me talk about my plans for the evening that she deserted me in favor of bugging Toby. Not that I minded too much, because I love to watch her work him. Somehow she has found the buttons that makes him work. She can tease him until he turns bright red and drags her off to his office or she can talk him into doing things he really doesn't like to do, like help me.

He hates it when I ask for advice, because he just hates giving advice to people. Or maybe he just hates people. I think he just hates giving advice. Anyway, this time I'm going to follow his advice. I'm going to stop and buy some flowers before I pick Lauren up for our date. And tomorrow I'm going to be waiting in Toby's office to find out what to do next. Yeah, this is going to work this time.

~the hotel~

I'm standing in the hallway outside her door and feeling like the biggest geek in the world. As I came in every head in the room turned to watch me carrying this bouquet of flowers. Geekdom does not suit me. As I'm waiting for her to open the door a couple of teenage girls pass by and giggle. I'm squirming now and looking for the nearest exit when she opens the door.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," I whisper back. She's wearing an emerald green dress that is cut way low in the front, exposing the tops of her breasts and the delicate skin of her neck. I can't stop staring. Hell, I can't breathe.

"Are those for me," she asks nodding towards the flowers. I smile and thrust them towards her. "Come on in."

She takes the flowers and walks back into the room and that's when I see that most of her back is exposed as well. `I am in so much trouble,' I think.

"These are beautiful," she gushes. She puts the flowers in a vase that she got from who knows where, and sets them on the dresser.

"I was hoping that you would like them," I stammer.

"I love them," she smiles.

Ok. Geekdom is ok. Geekdom is good.

"Shall we go," I squeak, thinking that the room just got twenty degrees hotter.

"Ok," she says as she gathers her stuff and we head out the door.

~Toby's office~
~the next morning~

"Where the hell have you been," I yell as Toby appears in the doorway of his office. He stops and looks at me then turns around to look in the bullpen before turning back to me.

"At home," he speculates.

"You're late," I accuse.

"Josh," he says tiredly as he sets his stuff down. "It's ten minutes to seven. I'm actually early. Why are you in my office? I figured you would be dragging your sorry butt in here at least thirty minutes late as Donna said you had a date last night."

"I did have a date last night," I smile. "It was the most wonderful time of my life."

"I'm happy for you," he grunts. "Now get the hell out of my office."

"I need your help," I tell him as he sits down and logs on to his computer.

"With what," he asks distractedly.

"Well," I begin. "I went out with Lauren last night…"

"Lauren is the new girl," he interrupts.

"Yeah," I reply. "I bought her flowers like you suggested before but I didn't listen cause I knew I would feel like a geek, which I did by the way, but Lauren liked them so much that I didn't mind feeling like a geek and then we went to dinner and out dancing and she was wearing this dress that exposed most of the upper half of her body and when we were dancing it was driving me crazy so we called it a night early and I took her back to the hotel then she let me kiss her good night and now I'm here to find out what I should next."

"How about breathe," he suggests.

"I am breathing now," I say solemnly. "What should I do about Lauren?"

"What do you want to do," he asks.

"I want to see her again," I tell him. "I want to sweep her off her feet like you did to Donna."

"Call her," he says.

"And say what," I ask.

"Do I have to map out the conversation?"

"It would help," I nod.

"Tell her you had a great time last night. Tell her you thought about her all night and that she was the most beautiful woman you ever saw."

"Ok," I agree. "Then I should ask her out again?"

"No," he says shortly. He stands up and heads for the door, so I follow him as quickly as I can.

"No," I repeat. "But I want to see her again."

He stops abruptly and turns around and run right into him, which makes him push me away. "Send her a gift with a note that says you want to see her again."

"More flowers?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Something special and or unique."

"Like what," I ask totally confused.

"Like a cookbook," he suggests. "Highlight a few recipes that look good to you, add a note that says; "Would you like to try these with me?" and add your phone number."

"That's stupid," I laugh.

He looks at me sternly. "You can follow my advice or you can stop asking for it. I'm not offering it freely."

"I'll think about it," I tell him.

"Fine," he says. "Lets get to staff."

That afternoon I spent three hours in a book store looking for recipes that were enticing but easy enough for me to understand. I can handle the basics of cooking, like hot dogs and macaroni and cheese but some of these things were beyond my imagination. I sent
the book by courier to her hotel room then sat by the phone and anxiously awaited her call. Luckily for me, I didn't have to wait too long. She was thrilled by the book and the note and wanted to see me again that evening. I was thrilled too. Not that I was going to tell her that, at least not until the next day.