Everything's Not Lost
By Nomad
August 2002
Spoilers: Let's say the first three seasons, just to be safe.
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts used within belong to Aaron Sorkin; I'm just borrowing for non-profit purposes.
When I counted up my demons, saw there was one for every day So if you ever feel neglected
With the good ones on my shoulder, I drove the other ones away
If you think that all is lost
I'll be counting up my demons, yeah
Hoping everything's not lost
- Everything's Not Lost, Coldplay
I
In the press room, CJ was working her magic as only she knew how. The press should have been ripping her to shreds, hacking into the reputation of Joshua Lyman, the question of why his PTSD had been kept secret and who had known about it. Instead they were smiling at her quips, sympathising, leavening the tougher questions with some easy hits. Oh, part of it could no doubt be traced back to the young reporter Rick Maskey, whose piece on facing the gun had added a whole new slant to everyone's perception of Josh Lyman... but most of it was purely down to CJ herself. She knew the press, and she knew how to walk out into that room and make them her own.
Toby watched her admiringly on the monitor for a moment, and then glanced across at Sam. His deputy was focused on the briefing, looking more alert and alive than he had in months.
"She's doing fine," Toby observed.
"She's doing great!" Sam grinned, and Toby was struck by how long that bright, boyish side of his deputy had been absent. Much as it wasn't his style to give random praise, he felt he had to say something.
"It was a good statement."
"It was." He smiled again, but this time it was an older expression, filled with calm self-satisfaction. Sam had his touch back, and he knew it.
Toby hesitated, then cleared his throat. "You... got over your thing?"
Sam snorted in quiet amusement. "No," he said. "But I... I got some perspective. Got some balance. Decided to change a few things in my life."
Toby decided that was just about all he needed to know in that area. "Whatever. You found your writing - try not to lose it again, okay?"
Sam just smiled, and they went back to watching the briefing.
Leo felt something in him freeze as Donna stepped into his office. He could read right it there in her face.
She didn't say anything, simply slid a small crumpled envelope across the desk towards him. His name was written in the centre, in Josh's writing.
He tore his eyes away from the letter, and looked up at her. "Is that... what I think it is?"
"Josh is gone," she said simply.
"Gone? Gone where?" he demanded.
He wondered if Donna realised she was unconsciously hugging herself. "He didn't say. I... I didn't see him. He left me a letter, together with, with..." She nodded at the envelope on the table, as if she couldn't bear to name it and make her boss's resignation real. "He said he knew you weren't gonna let him resign, so he had to leave and do it like this."
Leo picked up the envelope, and regarded it for a long moment. He didn't tear it open. That would have felt too... final, somehow. "He can't do this," he said aloud. He didn't realise he wasn't angry until he heard his own voice. He sounded uncertain. He sounded old.
He'd known Josh would be pushing the self-sacrifice pedal to the limit, even after he'd seen the potential to sway public opinion of the Maskey piece. He just hadn't expected him to take things into his own hands.
He'd known Josh would be clamouring to be allowed to resign, and that he wasn't going to pay a damned bit of attention to it.
Apparently, Josh had known that too.
There was a long silence, and then, hesitantly, Donna began to speak. "You know, technically, if I got a little flustered and forgot to give that to you, he wouldn't have resigned."
Leo looked up at her. "That's true," he said slowly.
"It's been a stressful time for all concerned," she noted.
"It has."
"In fact, after a stressful incident like this, nobody would be surprised if certain people felt the need for a temporary leave of absence."
"Seems reasonable," he nodded.
"And you know, it would be a convenient time for that person's assistant to take some of her accumulated vacation, maybe go check out some of the spots her boss has always said he likes..."
The smile that had been lurking at the corners of his mouth finally broke free. "Go find your boss, Donna," he said warmly.
She beamed back. "Yes, sir."
As she left the office, Leo leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtfully at the envelope for a moment. Then, decisively, he consigned it to his desk drawer and slammed it shut.
So Josh thought he could get away this easily? He should be so lucky.
Leo raised his voice. "Margaret!"
She appeared quickly in the doorway. "Leo?" She looked worried, but whether that was down to current circumstances or just an essential Margaret-y character trait was difficult to say.
He leaned forward in his chair to look up at her. "Donna's gonna be handling something for me for a little while. Make sure any expenses she incurs get passed back to me."
The news was like watching a train crash. Zoey wanted to turn it off, but some sick fascination kept her watching, as if it was the only way to make herself believe it was really happening.
It seemed like Josh was getting shredded on every channel that existed. Every so often the news would flash back to CJ, cool, calm and collected in the press room, but every time she got ready to sit back and sigh with relief, they cut to yet another crazy Republican ranting and raving about deceit and mental instability.
The worst thing was when they brought her dad into it. Always, always, it came down to "Comparisons are being drawn with the shock revelation from two years ago..."
And how dare they say Josh was disturbed? How dare they insinuate that her father was ready to sink into mental decay at any moment? Her father was fine. He had MS, but he was fine. Sometimes he had attacks, but they got better, and he hadn't had one for years now in any case. He was fine and he was going to stay fine. Forever. End of discussion.
But the news went on and on and on. And now they were talking about uncle Leo, talking it up as if the administration was full of drunks and basket-cases. Completely ignoring the fact that Leo hadn't had a drink in forever.
She knew it was all lies, but it still hurt. It hurt to know that her father and his friends - her friends - had to listen to these lies about themselves. It hurt to think that there were people out there who would hear them and believe them.
Almost instinctively, her hand stole to the silver chain around her neck, and the engagement ring that hung on it. Although she had worn it for only a matter of days, it had already become like a charm, a security blanket - no. More mature than that. A symbol of faith, like the cross her father wore. A reminder that whatever happened in the world, she still had Charlie.
As she closed her fingers around the ring, Zoey smiled, remembering Charlie's words on the fateful night they had somehow, crazily, ended up engaged.
She was too busy with the television and her fond recollections to realise she was no longer alone in the room. In the doorway her roommate hesitated, and looked at the ring speculatively. Then she turned and left, without Zoey ever knowing she'd been there at all.
Jed sighed heavily. He mustered the ghost of a smile for Leo as he entered the room, but it was an effort.
"How's Josh?" was his first question.
"He's taking some time." Leo didn't meet his eyes as he spoke, and Jed thought he could guess at the source of the other man's discomfort. He stretched out in his chair and sighed again.
"Leo, have we been too hard on the boy?"
"You mean have I?" Leo corrected, snapping his head up.
"Yes, Leo, because I typically refer to you as 'we', the two of us being a gestalt entity."
"You've been waiting for a chance to use that word in conversation for years, haven't you?"
"That and 'contumacious'." He started to smile smugly as Leo wrestled with himself. "I'm willing to wait until you ask," he offered helpfully.
Leo glowered. "Okay, what?"
"Insubordinate," Jed recited, "stubbornly or wilfully disobedient, especially to a court order."
"Ah, yes. Talking of Josh..."
"Yeah." There was a brief silence.
Leo looked down at the floor. "I should have seen this coming," he said softly.
"We're only human, Leo," Jed reminded him. "You, me, Josh, all of us... all too human." He sighed. "I'd hoped that things would be... better, this time around, but it's all just the same." He fixed his old friend with a sharp look. "We're not doing what we came here to do, are we, Leo?"
Leo would never lie to his face. But Jed was unable to gauge how deeply he believed his own optimistic answer. "We've got a few years yet before we have to retire, Mr. President," he said firmly.
"Yes. Yes we do."
But when Leo was gone, and he settled back into his chair with a groan at the stiffness in his body, the words echoed in his mind.
A few years yet before we have to retire...
He only prayed that it was true.