Hi there :) I hope you enjoy this one-shot, which yes, I am using as a procrastination tool for Winter Winds... If you haven't checked out Winter Winds, it involves a vulnerable Josh, a White House lockdown, and much, much more fun and excitement.
So yeah. Pretty cool. Review to make me happy?
XXX JRS-Until-The-End XXX
To an alcoholic, a drink is the answer. Every answer. A stressful day at work, a heated argument, a challenging problem... All fixed with a splash of bourbon or a shot of whiskey. It was the answer to every problem, no matter how big or small.
To a recovering alcoholic, a drink is still the answer. But it's one that is thought about and not executed. In a difficult situation, the former alcoholic's fingers itch, but stay clenched. They smell the alcohol, but cannot taste it. Their mouths salivate for the burn, but feel nothing.
And to Leo McGarry, a large glass of scotch sounded like bliss. It would take the edge off of the hell he currently faced and allow him to keep his head on straight...but also leave him completely shit-faced.
So Leo merely chewed his bottom lip, forcibly swallowing as he watched a bloody scene unfold through a small glass window. Below, a 38-year-old man had his entire chest cavity cracked open. Scalpels were scraping his skin, fingers poking his organs, voices shouting commands as they tried to save his life. Eleven hours into the surgery, and his vitals were still scraping bottom.
At age 38, you think you've seen it all. It seems as if there is nothing more to learn, that you are riding the peak of everything you've known and learned. At 38, you think you have hit your highest point, and that nothing will every be as challenging, or as meaningful.
At 52, you know that what you thought at 38 was complete and utter bull crap.
Josh Lyman may think he's done in the world, but Leo knows he isn't. So as he watched his deputy fight for his life on the table, he begins to pray; it's been years since he last attempted, but the need has never been stronger than at that moment.
Noah, he pleaded, I'll try harder to protect him, I swear I will. He's our boy, he'll pull through-he has to. There is so much for him to live for, so much he hasn't done. For God's sake, take me if you have to choose, but give him another chance... Josh has been through so much already, first with Joanie's death, the fire, and then with you and your Leukemia, Noah. Give him another change... Please. A small tear rolled down his cheek, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the scene below.
"He's a strong boy, Leo."
A calloused hand rested itself on Leo's shoulder, and he whipped around, resting eyes with the man behind him. "You shouldn't be out of bed, Mr. President- you just came out of surgery, sir!" He rushed to pull over a chair for his older companion.
Jed merely waved him off. "Abbey and the doctor said it was fine, leave me be, Leo," he said flippantly, moving to join his CoS by the window. "How is he?"
Leo choked another sob as he told the president. "The bullet tore his pulmonary artery, so they had to repair it, and it collapsed his lung, so... so they had to repair that, too..." He twitched at the memory of seeing the boy's flattened lung. "They lost twice, Jed. Twice he died on that table." And with that, his breath hitched and two more tears trailed down his face, before dozens of others joined them...then, he found himself being embraced, the President holding him as his body was wracked with unrelenting sobs.
It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair.
It's not fair.
The mantra played over and over in Leo's head as he pulled himself from the President's grasp. It wasn't fair- Josh had so much to live for, and one stray bullet was going to- no, trying to- change that.
Leo knew Josh was supposed to be in his car. That's just how it was; just how all of the practice drills went: The President in one car, Zoey in another, Toby and Sam, and then Leo rode in a limo with Josh.
But when Josh wasn't in his car, Leo barely even noticed. He was too focused on the task at hand- was President Bartlet okay? It was never is everyone okay? Just Jed. Just the President, who was fully covered by Secret Service agents, rather than the others.
Certainly not his deputy, who was lying against the staircase with a gaping wound in his abdomen, helplessly watching as frantic other people stepped right over him, as if he were part of the scenery. God only knows how Josh had felt at that moment- he was probably only semi-conscious, but he could feel the collapsed lung, the bullet wound, the fear.
Did Josh fear death?
Leo sobbed again, but watched the President take the chair, sitting down with a grunt. "Josh is as strong as they come, Leo. But he's also stubborn as hell, and there's no way that this bullet will take our boy from us...no way."
So as he looked out onto the surgery, watched the trained professionals slice and dice the boy he swore to protect, Leo knew that maybe, maybe, someday things would resemble okay.