Author's Note: Happy Boxing Day everyone! This post-episode story is set approximate 12 years after the date of the episode. It's a cross-over story, set in my "Transitions Universe." You don't have to have read all the Transitions stories to follow along with this one, but if you enjoy this and haven't read "Transitions" you probably should. This is my shameless plug for my other work.
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"Hey baby, whatcha doin'?" I call out as my poke my head into our new bedroom. Donna looks up from the middle of the bed. I'm a little surprised to find her sitting down. She's made the bed, but there are still a lot of boxes stacked up around it.
"Kids asleep?"
"Yep! I am the nap-master. Bow to my superior ability."
"You got them both down at the same time?!"
"I did."
"You are the master. I do bow to you." She makes no motion to get off the bed but moves her hands in supplication.
"So what should we do with this rare opportunity to have some adult time in our lovely new home?" I wiggle my eyebrows at her. I'm sure she'll get my meaning. We have a lot of rooms to christen.
"Well, what we should do is try to make some progress on these boxes." She gestures around her.
I wrinkle my nose. That is not my idea of fun. But I've lived with her long enough to know that if she wants to accomplish something then that's what's going to happen.
"How's it coming?" It doesn't really look like she's really working on those boxes, but I'm also smart enough not to point that out.
"Well, I got a little distracted. Come look."
I climb onto the bed with her, slide around behind and wrap my arms around her. Just holding her is a pretty nice way to spend some kid-free time too. I put my chin on her shoulder, and look at what she's got. "What is that?"
"You don't recognize it?"
"No? Should I?"
It does look a little familiar. It's a burnt pine box, with ribbon hinges. I study it for a minute. I think I have seen it before. Maybe it has been a fixture on the top shelf of my closet in the brownstone ever since our wedding.
"It used to contain moose meat." She offers with a grin.
I can't help but grin back. "Really? That's the moose meat box from Helsinki?"
I get a flashback to standing in my old office, describing it to her. A burnt pine box with hand-woven Lapland ribbons. She hadn't seemed impressed with it at the time, she'd just stood there with the most adorably confused look on her face. I really had thought that she'd like the box but she hadn't been able to get over the fact that it contained moose meat.
"Yep."
"I thought that thing got sold on ebay or you gave it to an intern or something?"
"Well, I had to buy it to get it off ebay."
"Seriously? You bought that? What did you do with the moose meat?"
"I gave it to Sean for Christmas."
"Outstanding." I wonder if Sean actually ate it. It seems like something he'd probably do. Oh well, I don't really care as long as I didn't have to eat it.
"I told you if I'm gonna eat moose meat there had better be a prize at the end of it. Anyway, I kept the box."
"Why?" I can't help but smile. I already know the answer.
"For stuff."
I can't help but grin even bigger. I've heard the stories. She's been a collector since she was a kid. And Lulu already seems to be taking after her, picking up brochures and hanging on to odd little things that are "special" like bottle caps and buttons. Donna always claims that Lu is just like me but I see so much of her mother in her.
"So whatcha got in there?" I settle myself back against the throw pillows, prepared to be entertained. Donna never fails to amuse me.
She turns and moves the box so that her back's not completely to me. I'm glad I'll be able to see her face as we go through the stuff. I'm really only mildly curious about what the box contains, but I'm sure I'll enjoy watching her reactions as she shows me her treasures and I tease her about them.
The first thing she hands me is a white satin ribbon. She pauses and I wonder if this is a quiz. Am I supposed to know what it is? I don't want to disappoint her. I close my eyes and suddenly I can see her on the couch watching as I pull it off a box. I smile as I remember placing it on her head.
"This was from our first wedding gift. The vase from the Bartlets." I'm pleased with myself for remembering. I put the ribbon on the top of her head just like I did all those years ago. We still have the vase so I'm not sure why we needed to keep the ribbon, but the soft smile on Donna's face is worth it. And I remember that somehow that vase made her feel like the apartment was her home too, so having another reminder of that moment is okay by me.
She hands me a key. This is an easy one. It's the key from the apartment before the Secret Service changed the locks. She carried that key for 6 years before we started dating. Talk about a slow burn. I trusted her with my life far before I asked her out. I'm not surprised she kept it.
Next, she puts a stack of 3 greeting cards on the bed without handing them to me. I pick them up and flip through them. A nice message from her Dad on her Sweet 16. One from her former roommate, Stephanie, on the occasion of her 21st, containing a plea to get together and celebrate. The third one is for her Thirtieth. It's from my Mom. We weren't even dating then. Mom's message is heartful and loving, full of wisdom and advice. She calls Donna "daughter of my heart" and signs it "love, Mom." My heart swells. The bond between Donna and Mom is amazing. I make a mental note to send Mom some flowers this week, just because.
Donna sets a large manila envelope on the bed next to the ribbon and reaches for something else in the box. I'm sort of surprised she isn't showing me everything. But since she pulled it out, it's fair game and now I'm really rather curious. I open the tabs and dump the envelope out onto the bed. I'm a bit stunned to see newspaper clippings dating back to 1998. Some of them, like the 101st Senator article, I remembers clear as day. Others, I'm not even sure my clipping service would have picked up. I pick one of them up randomly. It has a picture of President Bartlet at a fundraiser. I'm in the background.
"Did you clip every article with my name or picture in it for the last 15 years?"
"Maybe." She blushes a little. Even after all these years of marriage, sometimes she still acts like a school girl with a crush.
"God, what did I ever do to deserve you?"
"Well," she chuckles a bit. "Your press clippings are right there. Read it for yourself."
That makes me laugh too. Despite popular opinion, I'm not an egomaniac. I don't need to read them. I carefully put the articles back in the envelope and try not to notice that a few of them seem to have tear stains on them.
She pulls out the box with the pen from the Peace Agreement and it flips it open and stares at it a minute. My chest tightens. I still remember how I felt when I gave it to her. I wanted her to know how important she was. To me. To the country. To the world. Sometimes I still don't have the right words, but I hope my actions show her everyday.
She puts the pen down, then she hands me one of my Dad's business cards. It's in mint condition. Clearly it's not the one that I carried in my wallet for years.
"Turn it over." She tells me softly.
On the back is Dad's handwriting.
Donna, Thank you for all you do for my son. I don't know how he'd manage without you, but if you ever decide it's time to find out, remember you've always got a job here.
I take a deep breath and chuckle a little. I can hear Dad's voice, half teasing, half serious. Someone else reading this might think that Dad was trying to poach her from me, but Donna has already told me the story. I know what Dad was really doing. Matchmaking! Get her away from me long enough so I could see how much I would miss her and take away the conflict all in one shot. Still, it gives me a nice feeling to know that Dad approved of Donna, and could see us having a relationship, even after only knowing her for a few weeks and meeting her just once. I'll always be glad that on a whim, I took her to my parents house on that campaign stop.
It's nice to see Dad's handwriting again too. I'm starting to really appreciate this memory box concept. I kind of wished I'd saved a card or two from Dad. It would be nice to be able to look at them now. I set the business card down on the bed and wait to see what else she's got.
She pulls out a little plastic hotel key card. It's non-descript. It could be from any of hundreds of rooms we've stayed in over the years. I hold it up and raise my eyebrows in an unspoken question.
Her cheeks turn a little pink. "It was from the first time I was assigned to a room on the Bartlet campaign. The first few weeks of the campaign, I slept on the bus or crashed on someone's floor. That was the first time the campaign felt I was valuable enough to warrant a bed."
"WHAT THE HELL?!" I explode. I think I'm actually seeing red. I'm a fucking idiot. I knew she wasn't on payroll the first month. I didn't know she didn't sleep in a bed during that time. She was supposed to be rooming with people. Most of the junior staff and volunteers doubled up. I assumed that meant she had a bed. Hell, half the time, I had an extra bed in my room.
"Shhh!" She looks nervously toward the door. Instantly, I feel bad for yelling. I hope neither of the kids woke up. Donna lays a hand gently on my arm, then leans over and kisses me softly. With that, I feel my blood pressure start to go back down. "When I asked to go to Charleston, I told you I'd sleep on the floor. It was an adventure."
"I thought that was hyperbole! You didn't really have to sleep on the floor. You should have told me. I would have taken care of you."
She smiles softly. "That wasn't your job."
"But I would have."
"I know."
I hold her a little closer. I wish I had taken better care of her in the beginning.
It's appropriate when the next thing she pulls out of the box is a Bartlet for America Staff ID. Neither of us say a word. I think we're both just lost in the memory of her hiring herself. I still remember the look on her face when I handed it over to her. I think that's the moment I started to fall in love with her. I just didn't realize it at the time.
"I thank God everyday that you picked my office."
She holds my eye as she drops a bombshell on me. "It wasn't random."
"It wasn't?"
"Nope. I heard you on the radio. You were so passionate about Bartlet. You made me want to come find you and help you. So I did."
"You PICKED me? You came to New Hampshire to find me?"
"Yes. I did." She's blushing again and I pull her into my arms.
"Thank you. I couldn't have done any of this without you."
She leans forward and pulls a few more things out of the box. I barely glance at the commemorative flyers from all the Inaugurations. Of course, she'd keep those.
The next thing is a ticket stub. I pick it up and look it over.
"The train ticket from Indiana. I would have thought you'd want to forget about that. You were pretty pissed at Toby and me by the end of that day."
"Well, yeah, I wanted to knock your heads together more than once. But there were some good moments."
"Such as?"
"You gave me your jacket to try to shield me from the rain."
"But it was my fault you got wet at all."
"And you bought me an Indiana State University sweatshirt."
"You were cold."
"And then you figured out how to make college education more affordable."
It's my turn to blush a little. "I wanted to impress you."
"You did."
I reach over and hold up a deflated balloon. "There have been lots of balloons in the course of our life. What's special about this one?"
"A snowball would have melted."
I lean over and kiss her. "You looked amazing. Do you have any idea how bad I wanted to kiss you that night?"
"I have an inkling." She snickers.
"At least we are making up for lost time." I give her another long kiss.
"It wasn't all lost time." She says when I finally stop, handing me a plain white envelope.
Its not sealed, so I open the flap and dump the contents into my hand. It's a pretty decent stack of small, stiff white rectangles. I turn one over.
Donna, Happy Anniversary, love Josh.
I flip through a few more. They're mostly comparable, typewritten by the florist. But a few are in my handwriting. "Happy Mother's Day. I love you." "Thank you for the greatest gift ever. You're both amazing." "Congratulations on your graduation. I knew you could do it." "You've made me the happiest man alive. Again."
"You kept all of them?"
"Yes."
"From every single time I sent you flowers?"
"Yes." Her smile gets wider. "Thanks taking me back. And thanks for the flowers. They're always beautiful." She leans over and gives me a kiss this time. This is more fun than I expected. And if I have to admit it, it's really touching how she's preserved our whole relationship in a box.
"So what else you got in there?" I asks as I put the flower cards back in their envelope.
She hands me a copy of the Constitution. I flip open the cover and I'm not surprised to see it signed by Evelyn Baker Lang. Donna's a big fan. Once she found out that Toby had a signed copy for Molly, Donna bugged me to get one for Lulu. I still remember the look of surprise followed by glee when I reminded her that she could make that call herself. Chief Justice Lang would be happy to talk to her.
I give her a fake evil glare as she pulls out a Russell for President button.
She shrugs sheepishly. "It was still part of my life. I did good work on that campaign."
"Yes. You did. My life would have been much easier if you weren't so brilliant." I kiss her again and slip my hand up the back of her shirt. As much fun as this is, I'm hoping to find something else to do before the kids wake up.
She pulls out a baggie. My heart drops into my stomach as I see the hospital ids from Rosslyn and Germany mixed in with the bracelets from when the kids were born. I do not to want go there. I want today to be a happy day. I'm really relieved when she sets the baggies aside without comment.
A picture of Donna with Big Bird joins the pile and I smile as I pick it up. "Lulu would love to see this. She'd be impressed that you've met the muppets."
"Yes, because knowing the President is unimpressive."
"Someday she might be impressed about that, but right now "President Uncle Matt" is just someone who watches her so we can go on a date."
I look through a little stack of programs that sets down. Sam & Ainsley's and Ellie's weddings are mixed in with Leo and Mrs. Landingham's funerals, along with Donna's commencement program, as well as Charlie's and Zoey's. Then I set them aside. I hope we are almost done with this.
"Ah, here." She says, smiling as she hands me a book.
The Art and Artistry of Alpine Skiing.
"I remember how stupid I felt when I got back to my desk after the trip to the book store with President Bartlet. I sat there wondering what had possessed me to buy you a rare book instead of getting you something from your list."
"My list was pretty audacious."
"But still. . ."
I'd been browsing the racks when it caught my eye. I was amused, since Donna had been on me about the skiing. But then, when I pulled the book off the shelf, it just felt right. The cover was beautiful. And it was unique. It reminded me of her. Something that could easily be overlooked if you didn't pay attention, but that if you just took a moment you'd discover its value.
So I bought it on impulse. Then sitting at my desk, I realized that she might not appreciate it, unless I explained why I bought it. So I'd scribbled a quick heartfelt message to her telling her why I bought it, and hoped that it would be enough.
I flip it open and Donna and I both read my words silently. It's odd, but I was pleased when they'd brought her to tears. I knew that I didn't show her enough appreciation. And I hoped the book would reminder her how I really felt. I'm glad to see she's kept it all this time.
When I look back at her, she's smiling and her eyes are just a bit misty. I can't help but remind her-
"I meant what I said."
God. I love this woman so much. I don't have nearly enough words to tell her.
"I know. You've shown me. I love you, Joshua."
"I love you, Donnatella."