Spoilers: Everything through Season Five.
Disclaimers: So not mine.
Summary: There is nothing wrong with the game, she thinks, it's perhaps the players that should change.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Christine for beta and being the spectacular being that she is, and of course, surviving without TV or the Internet. Kerry, you helped me unravel my understanding of Amy like no one else could and provided a healthy dose of 'yup, that works.' And finally to Julia, who absolutely rocks when it comes to characterisation, you have no idea how much I missed you! Don't ever leave me again.
Author Notes: I'm writing Amy again, and I'm hoping this comes across as being neither evil Amy nor nice Amy, but rather just Amy… if that makes sense.
It never felt like a sin before, to take a moment for herself, to collect her thoughts and find the strength to hide exhaustion that didn't exist an hour ago. She's not entirely sure why she feels so drained, but she suspects that it doesn't have much to do with the current crisis and she wonders briefly if she should feel guilty at all for that, it is, after all, partly her doing. Her life, at this moment, isn't what she expected it would be, and she has no idea how it became anything less than what she wanted. She's beginning to think that now is the time to walk away; she thinks she has no reason to stay. She's taking this moment to just sit down and breathe, and no matter how hard she tries, everything keeps spinning, leaving her with absolutely no idea what to do next.
"Are you in love with Josh?"
She hadn't meant to ask. She had drunk just enough alcohol to not care about the answer, and in a moment of 'what the hell,' the words had just slipped out. It didn't surprise her that she didn't feel the need to know the answer; she could leave now before Donna had the chance to utter a carefully calculated response, but morbid curiosity kept her seated and waiting for a reply.
She heard rather than saw Donna close her book, with a force that she supposed signalled the end of this particular conversation. And for all outside appearances it was. She smiled in a self-deprecating manner, just for the moment revelling in the fact that she once again had control. Something she had lost while trying to find her way back into Josh's affections through Donna.
Trying to look carefree, as if whatever was said next didn't matter, she continued to play with the bottle in her hand. She imagined Donna mentally trying to prepare an answer and let her mind wander as to what the other woman would come up with, wondering if she should have a witty retort ready.
And then she looked at the three carefully placed bottles she had been studiously avoiding, and she realised Donna's answer really didn't matter.
Suddenly control didn't seem like something to celebrate or revel in; reality managed to seep its way through to her senses and she felt the need to leave before anything was said, but Donna chose that moment to answer her question.
"I think you're reading too much into my friendship with Josh."
She hadn't imagined Donna would actually look like she believed in her answer. She actually found herself believing her, now feeling stupid for being paranoid, but at the same time wondering if she was really that wrong. It hadn't occurred to her that Donna may have been as unaware of her feelings for Josh, as Amy had been of hers.
She tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it, so instead she settled for draining her beer. She saw the question in Donna's eyes before she had the chance to speak, and wondered if she had the courage to ask. But still, she hadn't expected Donna to say anything and so she gave the simplest answer she could think of to a question unasked. "Because I'm drunk enough."
And that was it. She walked away, questioning whether Josh was worth all this, and leaving Donna to wonder what had just happened.
She sits back and thinks, contrary to what Donna believes, she gets Josh too, and it leaves her beyond saddened that she does.
"The boys are still up?" she asks as her sister answers the phone. She can hear the shouts of her nephews in the background and wonders if she could have that life for herself. She realises that it's not a life that she could plan, if it were to happen; it needed to surprise her, to entice her into wanting it.
"… there's too much going on right now for them to sleep." And she's brought crashing back to reality with those words; a reality she wishes she could forget.
"Right," she sighs.
"You ok?" She loves her sister, despite the difference in their lives, in the path's they've chosen; she loves her, and she loves that her sister can read her so well. But right now this isn't a conversation she wants to have.
"Yeah, just... tired." She avoids the discussion and hopes that her sister will take the hint, or at least give her enough time to work up to talking about the issues that are really bothering her.
"How are the President and First Lady?"
"I'm not sure there's any way I can answer that question." She wants to be able to answer; she wants to be a better person than she believes she is.
"Yeah…"
"Abbey-she's broken."
"I can imagine."
"Look, can we talk about something else, anything?"
"Sure." She hears the reply and can see the resigned look on her sister's face. She wonders if there's anyone she's ever truly opened herself up to. She has friends, great friends, but she's not sure she could ever share these thoughts with them. And she wonders if she were with Josh, could she be this open with him.
She thinks back over the past few days and she cringes at her behaviour. She tries to think back to a time when a man made her feel this vulnerable, or made her behave this juvenile, but she can't. She can't remember ever chasing a man; she's never felt the need to. She wonders if any man is worth this kind of pain; she wonders if she ever truly examined their relationship and if she did, would it really be worth this kind of effort. In her lowest moments, she realises that she's never tried to find the answer to those questions. But then she thinks about missing him and decides those answers don't matter, for now.
For now, all that matters is a second chance.
She's heard through the grapevine about Josh's behaviour since the news broke about Zoey and she wonders if she can help, if he will let her be there for him. She knows he spent the night sleeping somewhere in the White House and decides to bring him food and coffee. It's an olive branch and she hopes he sees it for what it is-her way of taking care of him. Donna's words reverberate in the back of her mind and she tries not to think about how much of her sudden need to take care of Josh is due to her. She thinks she's always understood Josh, albeit a different part of him, and thinks that this is how she can show him. She doesn't think to question if this is really for Josh's benefit, hers, or Donna's.
She hides her disappointment when he doesn't allow a moment of intimacy to exist between them by switching on her political side. She wishes she didn't do this with him; she wishes she could reach him without talking about work, without making him feel defensive. She wonders if this need to be in control is what stops them from letting each other in, and she wonders if that's something they can overcome. She wonders if he even cares enough to try.
The kiss surprised her to say the least. She hadn't expected Josh to do anything but become irritated by her. She couldn't help annoying him, although that wasn't her intention, or perhaps it was, she's not quite sure. A part of her enjoys tormenting him when he's this frustrated. She wanted to show that she could be there; that she would be there waiting however long it took. The kiss was everything she missed about him, and yet it was everything she regretted. She saw that he was vulnerable, she saw that his impulsive act surprised him as much as her, and she wondered if this could be more than an aberration for him, a reaction to the situation as opposed to his feelings about her. She decided this kiss could be the second chance she needed, and so she left the invitation open. She knew he'd accept-he seemed to need her- but she had no idea why. For that moment, though, she decided she didn't care, because she was the one in control.
She felt triumphant. After a year of wanting him back, of trying to win him back, she finally had him. He was here, in her bed, and he was focused on her. She should feel triumphant. She should feel like this was their true beginning. He needed… something and he came to her to find it. She should feel contented that he finally let her in. She never thought to ask if he was in fact opening up to her, or retreating further than she ever thought possible. She knows she should question his motives, question this and where it's going, but she feels triumphant, and right now nothing else seems to matter, not even the fact that he left before she could stop him.
In her moments of quiet contemplation she wonders if she's deluded herself into thinking this is something it isn't, not just for him, but for herself also. She wonders if Josh became a challenge for her to overcome and that's what this relationship is; a game in which she herself has become a pawn. She wonders if she's with him because he's convenient and then laughs at the absurdity of that statement; Josh Lyman is anything but convenient. Maybe he's addictive, she thinks.
Josh made her feel alive, she rationalises. She argued with him and it excited her, made her want to consume him, to be consumed by him, and that's what she remembered, that's what she missed when they broke up the first time... and she had been so focused on getting that feeling back that she didn't think to question if that was enough for her.
She doesn't think to question if Josh makes her feel alive anymore. It hasn't occurred to her to question if it's loneliness and insecurity that is now her motivation. Or if it's the feeling of power she associates with being with him-the power he propels her to pursue in order to feel his equal. To be perceived as his equal. He has this ability to bring out her aggressive nature without even trying, and she finds that, in itself, is the biggest turn on possible.
She's trying to figure out why it is that she's so determined to have him, because she refuses to believe the worst of herself. She refuses to believe that he's simply a challenge, a conquest, or that he's a great connection to have professionally. She refuses to believe that all they are is a political match, to believe that she would allow herself to feel this vulnerable over power and sex.
She just wishes she knew what her pursuit of Josh was about, as opposed to what she hopes it isn't.
She hates that it's Donna's knowledge of Josh that's keeping this relationship afloat. She wonders if it wasn't for their conversation, this new understanding that Josh can feel less than he is, she would wait so long before asking him for something, anything in return for her affections. She saw his vulnerability after Zoey was taken; she didn't need Donna to appreciate that, but she wonders if she would be so patient with him if she didn't understand the need behind his desperation. She wonders if she truly understands it now, or if he will ever confide in her and explain it to her. Because, more than anything, she wishes this is something she could learn from him. But she decides that in this, she can sacrifice her pride for him. She decides she can wait; she can wait for Josh to overcome the demons that now seem to consume him; she can wait for him to realise that she was here, for him, when he needed her.
She's just not sure how much of her will be left when he's finally ready.
It's been a month now and she wants more than he's given, more than he seems willing to give. She can't believe that she's had to convince herself that asking for more than just sex is asking for too much. She can count on one hand the amount of times they've had a date, a simple dinner, or when she's woken up with him next to her in the morning. She was perfectly happy to be his crutch in his time of need, thinking she could make him understand there was more to them, thinking she could make him love her back, thinking she was the one in control. But she doesn't feel loved so much as she feels used, and with other men she could ignore that, but she can't with him. She's been used in the past, but equally she knows that she was using those men back, and this time that can't be true. It would mean she wasn't the one controlling this dynamic; she wasn't in control of anything.
Peripherally, she's aware that she pushed her agenda on to him more when they slept together than when they didn't, but she doesn't think anything of it because this is who she is. He knew that much about her before they became more than acquaintances. Perhaps she uses him as much as he uses her, but she's never played with his emotions, she thinks, and it's not fair that he could be playing with hers.
She wonders if this was a conscious decision on his part, and she thinks back to the fireworks and the moment she put the invitation on the table. She remembers his flash of hesitation and it hits her, perhaps for the first time, that she wasn't the one in control. She thinks back and wonders how she could have felt triumphant, how his mental state could have allowed her to be anything but a distraction, and suddenly the price of getting him into her bed again seems all too high.
She pushes these thoughts back into the recesses of her mind, because it has been a month now and he's still here, with her, and he has yet to walk away. His demons can't possibly still be haunting him, so he must be ok. Now is the time to move this thing they have forward. She has that much control over this, over them, and she intends to use it.
And in any case, he was the one who wanted the language. She doesn't think, that perhaps his need for definition would be different to hers. She doesn't think the language he'd use to describe them would be different to hers.
He seems more relaxed now than when they started this thing, he seems more confident, and it disturbs her that she can't figure out if he truly has fought his demons or he's just that good an actor. But she's decided that now is the time to ask for a commitment-she's not asking for marriage or even for him to move in, but she needs to know that this is more than just sex for him. She needs to know that he's beyond using her now and actually wants her. She doesn't bother to question if it is her ego that needs to be satisfied, as opposed to any deeper emotions that need to be acknowledged.
She's regretting her decision not to define them, he wanted language and she chose not to talk. Instead she loved the idea of being in control and thought by keeping him guessing, she was in someway tying them together. She didn't realise by not talking, she had confirmed his view of them, reassured him that he could walk away at any point and not have to worry about how she would feel.
Their relationship this time around doesn't hold that fun quality she associates with their previous time together; now things seem altogether darker. She still wants to jump him when he's arrogant and the sex is still as great as always, even though at times she feels he isn't all there with her. She thought with the change in times, the circumstances in which they rekindled this… thing, they'd have an adult relationship. She's not even sure she could classify this as a relationship; friends with privileges seems too much of a stretch. This thing between them really has become about using and being used. She doesn't like the idea that she's wrong about them, about how they should be together. She's been oblivious for too long-no, she thinks, she's been patient for too long. If she wants this thing between them to become anything other than what it currently is, she needs to take the initiative, and needs to push them forward, to push him.
She's not wrong about what they could mean to each other; she can't be.
It angers her that he just didn't care. It angers her that they really were nothing more than sex buddies, that he never allowed them to be more, and that he never cared if they were anything less. He couldn't even be her friend when she needed him to be. It angers her that she no longer has the fond memories of their first time together, but instead is left with the bitter taste of neglect and denial. She thinks she knew him better than this, and so she's hurt to see the situation between them for what it really was. She's angry for the accusations she can see written across his face-he thinks she knew as well as he that this was nothing more than a tryst. He thinks she knew that he was spiralling toward the edge of sanity; his frustration over having no control over the political fallout of having a temporary Republican President, compounding the guilt and anguish he felt over trying to pick a replacement for Hoynes. He couldn't be the guy Leo could count on when he was needed the most. He thinks she knew and that she offered to be his time out-the one thing he could control. And she's angry at him for trying to justify using her. How could he not have known she would see this as something more?
She's been sitting in her office for too many hours to count, only now it's dark outside and she has a glass of whiskey in hand. She sits and wonders if she's angrier with Josh, or herself.
She's spent over two years of her life on Joshua Lyman and it's two years too much on a man that never loved her. She wishes she could she could hate him-find a way to leave her feelings for him behind with the tryst that finally ended her illusions. The question once again presents itself, as to why she was so determined to have him. She thinks if she knows the answer, she could find a way to understand what this mess was supposed to mean.
She had always thought that she loved him; it was an unwritten truth, one she hadn't ever admitted to, but was aware of. She wonders now how true that statement is. She wonders what it was about them that she was so desperate to preserve. She thinks she used him as much as he had used her, but she feels betrayed by the way he used her. He played with her emotions, and despite his assertion that she knew what she was walking into, he had to have known on some level she wanted more than he would ever give. There was a time when she wondered if she should feel guilty for throwing herself at him when he was clearly an emotional wreck, but now the knowledge that he was of sound enough mind to make the decision to use her leaves her feeling vindicated. She has often wondered if she was manipulative in her pursuit of him, and now she no longer cares, for he was just as ruthless with her.
But none of this answers the question: why him?
She thinks back to when she was with him, and how she felt the need for more power, perhaps to prove to him that she was his equal. Or perhaps to prove to others that she was just as desirable. She thinks his observations about her previous relationships somehow managed to take away the supremacy she has always held over other men in her life. Her desired effect on Josh was diminished because he could see through the game being played. He was a man many found irresistible, and so few attained. To have control over him would provide a feeling of power she didn't think she could find with anyone else, after all, he was the one who didn't let people in. And he's the one the people try to impress. She thinks proving him wrong was perhaps the strongest attraction she felt toward him; he had an arrogance that just begged to be toyed with, and the fact that he was handsome, charming, adorable and rumoured to be amazing in bed, was just a side benefit. He oozed sex appeal and didn't even realise it; he's considered one of the finest political minds of his generation and you'd never know from the boyish charm he displays. He has an incurable passion for his work, his loyalty awe inspiring at times, his confidence seemingly unshakeable, and a reputation that precedes him. She thinks she doesn't know what turned her on more: the man or the myth.
It is now that she wonders why she doesn't miss him anymore. She wonders what it was that she missed to begin with…
She thinks she may have played a game with him, a battle of wills to see who was stronger, more right, more capable of winning; that's what she wanted from him. Someone to play with. She thinks he was never about the game. Perhaps the first time they were together, he was there along for the ride, willing to play along because he had yet to find a better offer, but then she realises that isn't fair. He may never have loved her, but he cared and it was never a game for him. She wonders though, did he care for her, or for disproving the labels she threw at him, and then she thinks he was about the game, just playing to a different set of rules.
She knows that if she were a lesser woman, she'd think that she and Josh were not the only players in this game meant for two. She'd think his goals never included her; she wasn't the prize he was striving for. In her more honest moments, she accepts the truth in that statement, and she realises that it is her ego, more than anything else, that is wounded. She thinks his wanting another woman made him more appealing as a conquest, and she no longer cares as to what that says about her.
He couldn't, or wouldn't be what she needed and if nothing else, then as a friend he should have tried. The fact that he didn't spoke volumes on how much value he placed on their friendship and she's left stung, now wondering if they were ever truly friends. She thinks a better description would be casual acquaintances who wanted to believe they were something more simply because they once dated. Or maybe it's the fact that when a relationship ends, he doesn't know the best way to walk away, and because she wasn't ready for him to leave her completely, it was easier to flirt with him, to begin the game all over again.
And now they've drifted along to this point in time where she doesn't know what they are, but she knows they're not what she wanted them to be, and she thinks anything less isn't enough, anything less and she's seen as the failure.
She finding herself somewhat amused right now at how things have unfolded; she lost to a woman who doesn't even realise she was a player in their game. She wonders if she should be proud of herself that in her own little way, she acknowledged that the other woman won. She thinks it will be even longer before Donna realises exactly what transpired and she knows that she doesn't want to be here to see that happen.
Because everything less is exactly what she has.
The thought flitters across her mind that she may be too dependant on men to affirm her power as a sexual being, but as quickly as that thought appears she downs her glass of whiskey and concentrates on the burning sensation instead. The idea that she's perhaps not as self-reliant as she appears to be, is just something she's not ready to think about. She's not the kind of woman who will pander to a man's ego to make herself feel good, she thinks. She wonders though, if that's exactly the kind of woman the world perceives her to be.
For a time, Joshua Lyman was her intellectual equal; perhaps he still is, but he's no longer willing to play the game and that is what appealed to her about them. She thinks their time came and went, and it was never meant to be anything more than what it was. She knows if presented with another opportunity to play, she'd jump at the chance because the man is somewhat addictive, and she has yet to win. But she's no longer under the illusion that it would be anything more than a battle of wits, or that their hearts would ever come into play.
She wonders if the outcome would have been different had he not been in a state of disrepair when they started this thing again, but she suspects that he would never have agreed to another round if he wasn't on such an emotional roller coaster. She gets him more than anyone guesses. He doesn't want her; that much is clear. Somehow that doesn't bother her as much as it should. But the idea of him not ever needing her... her stomach contracts at the thought.
She supposes she should no longer care, because it's not a game she can win. But then, it's not the game that needs to be changed, just the players.
Her whiskey glass is now empty and she's debating if the bottle should follow suit. She's taken the entire night to breathe and think and yet, she still feels lost. She thinks somewhere through the night she managed to find answers to questions she never thought she'd have to ask. She thinks it will be a while before the enlightenment she's gained from them will seep through to be an absolute truth, and until then, the hurt of a broken relationship remains. Blame and anger are at the forefront of her mind.
She wonders if you can ever truly be objective about yourself; she realises it requires a level of honesty that she could only achieve while being drunk, and as appealing an idea as it may seem now, she still has a tomorrow to face. This isn't where she wants to be professionally; working for a woman whose focus will never be completely aligned with hers. This isn't where she wants to be personally; working around a man who made her question the very fabric of her being. And so she thinks that perhaps now is the time to move on. Sometimes the present should just become part of the past, she thinks, because the future she wants doesn't lie on this path she's been walking.