Author's Notes: Post-ep to "La Palabra"
He'd been about to pay and leave when she walked in and to a table in the corner of the small room with some files in her hand, and he'd smiled; she was so engrossed in her work she hadn't even noticed him sitting at the bar nursing a beer. For the next hour, he'd sat there watching her from across the room.
He'd played the scene out at least twenty different ways, few of them pleasant. Pretend he didn't see her at all and leave. Smile and nod and then leave. Get up to leave and pretend he just noticed her, and walk up and say hello. Send a drink to her table. Throw himself on the floor at her feet and beg her mercy and forgiveness. Have a third, forth, fifth beer and then go up to her and scream at her, finally putting into words the betrayal and hurt his heart had been screaming about since December. Have those same beers and tell her the other things his heart screams about; the ones it'd been screaming about for years; words like love and forever and marriage and children. That one, his personal favorite, was also the one that scared him more that any of the others. It was better not to know than to be rejected.
Finally, he laid a ten on the bar and walked quietly and slowly to her table, hands in his pockets and chin down, partially in shame at how long it had taken him to get up the nerves to come over and partially to accentuate the boyish charms he supposedly had. He chuckled a little to himself; had they ever worked on her?
"I was wondering if you were going to come over," she said, not looking up from her paperwork and his eyebrows raised a little of their own volition.
"You knew I was here?" he asked in that voice he hated.
With her foot, she kicked out the chair he was standing next to. "The sports reporter on the news mentioned the Mets/Angels spring training game. I looked up at the TV and noticed you at the bar."
He nodded and tried to hide the smile on his face. She'd never liked the Mets before getting to know him. "You could've come to me," he said, immediately regretting his words, fearing she'd take them to mean back in December, before she'd left him and ruined his life. And to be honest, he probably did mean that, at least a little bit.
She looked up at him for the first time, then glanced over at the bar. "You looked…lost in thought."
He nodded, recognizing the lie immediately and not wanting to call her on it and make her flee. "You looked…busy," he said instead.
She looked down at the folder in front of her. She hadn't read a word of anything inside it since she'd seen him at the bar, but it was her safety net. Slowly, she closed it and pushed it to the side. "Just finished."
He smiled, not hiding it this time. She'd put aside her work, focused on him, and it pleased him in a way that made him think maybe he was finally losing his mind. She picked up her empty glass and moved it over to the side with the folder, and he focused on it for a few seconds. She never left lipstick prints on glasses, and he wondered why. Amy did all the time, and because of that as well as a thousand other things, he'd always hated it when she took a drink of something of his. He shook his head out of the little reverie he was in. "Let me buy you another…" he said, starting to push his chair out to go up to the bar.
"Actually, I was just leaving."
He felt the air rush out of his lungs and looked away from her to the wall hoping she couldn't see the pain in his eyes. "Oh. Right."
"It's just…" she paused, but he kept his eyes on the wall instead of her. She took a deep breath. "I haven't eaten anything today. We were… with the primary today… I'm just… I'm hungry."
He nodded, still refusing to look at her, pushed his chair harshly out the rest of the way, and stood up. He started speaking bitterly. "Well, it was…"
"Buy me dinner," she blurted out, interrupting what he was saying. Her eyes went wide and she had to physically stop her hand from covering her mouth. She hadn't meant to sound so desperate. She was hoping he'd take the hint and offer, but she should've known by then he didn't take hints too well. At least not when it came to her.
His eyes flew off the wall and to her face. "What?"
"Instead of…" she looked away this time, to the safety of the folder she'd hidden behind, and bit her lip. He'd probably already eaten; it was after eleven. She'd just wanted so badly to get out of the hotel bar and go someplace quieter where they wouldn't run into others from their respective campaigns, and for the first time in a while, she was actually hungry. She took a deep breath. "a drink… Buy me dinner instead of a drink."
His eyes widened a little, but she recognized the smile in them and smiled back, relieved. "Alright."
She pushed out her chair slowly and stood up, reaching into her purse, but he beat her to it, tossing a bill down on her table. She looked up at him and smiled, a real smile, her first real smile in far too long, she thought, then picked up her folder and started for the door. He followed closely behind, and she felt her knees weaken a bit when he placed his hand very tentatively on the small of her back.
Twenty minutes later, they sat in a corner booth at Subway eating quietly. They'd been walking down the street towards an Italian restaurant he'd seen earlier that day, when they'd passed the empty Subway. She'd paused, looking in the window, then pulled the door open, and without question he'd followed.
They'd been eating in near silence for ten minutes, and not the comfortable silence they'd shared so many meals over. It hurt him to see this is what it had come to, but he pushed the pain aside and tried instead to focus on fixing the problem, not dwelling on it. He looked up at her to notice her eyeing his Doritos and couldn't help but smile. "Why didn't you order any?"
She tore her eyes away from the bag and looked up at him, embarrassed for a second that she'd been caught, but mostly grateful for the lack of silence. Finally, she reached in and took a chip, popping it in her mouth. "If you didn't want me to eat them, you should've ordered something I don't like." Doritos were her favorite and he knew it.
He chuckled at her and dumped the bag out on his sandwich wrapper before carefully approaching a work related subject. "You did well with the press the other day."
She finished chewing the chip in her mouth, wiping her fingers on her napkin. "You saw me?"
He nodded. "It was big news."
"I didn't know," she blurted out.
He looked up from the sandwich he'd just taken a bite of. "What?" he asked, covering his mouth with his hand so she wouldn't have to look at his half-chewed food.
"I didn't know. About Hoynes. I didn't know," she said quickly.
He swallowed and shrugged. "Neither did I."
"The press…insinuated…" she looked away, towards the wall, but he took her chin and pulled her back to face him, anger and shock in his eyes.
"Insinuated what?" he asked in a stern voice, his protective side kicking in. She almost smiled in spite of herself.
She shook her head and tried to play it off as no big deal. "That I knew. That I was outing him."
"Did they insinuate anything else?" he asked in a low, gravely voice, laced with rage. He hadn't read the papers those few days before today's primary; he'd been so busy dealing with the congressman and governor. But if anyone had insinuated…
"What else would they…." her eyes grew large as she realized what he was asking. "No. No one insinuated anything like that at all."
He looked at her, not quite sure he believed her. She'd try to keep him from finding out if they had, he was sure of it. But if anyone, anyone, had insinuated she knew about the affairs because she was one of them, he'd kill them. He didn't give a shit who it was, he would kill them. He'd spent eight years protecting her from that kind of slander, and there was no way in hell he'd let anyone talk about her like that.
She reached over then and put her hand on top of his. "Really Josh. Nothing else."
He continued watching her for several seconds, looking for something in her face, her eyes, to tell him she was lying, and when he didn't see it, a look of relief came over his face and he nodded. "If anyone says anything like that…"
"I'll tell you," she finished for him.
He squeezed her hand and stared into her eyes. "Promise me."
She looked at him for a few seconds and then nodded. "I promise."
It was quiet after that for a few minutes, and he thought with a smile that the silence was still awkward, but not quite as much so. He finished his sandwich and popped a few more Doritos into his mouth. "I talked to CJ the other day. She said you've been doing well with the press too."
She looked up at him and smiled, a large smile that showed her teeth. "Really?"
He nodded and smiled back. "Really. Carol mentioned it too."
"And you once told me a campaign wasn't a place you could start over and find your confidence," she said flippantly, but cursing herself even as she heard the words fly out of her mouth uninvited.
He looked at her for what felt like an hour, chip in his hand in mid-air. Finally he closed his eyes and nodded before opening them back up and staring at the leftover lettuce and olives on his sandwich wrapper. "Yeah. You proved me wrong twice on that."
"Josh," she whispered, still wanting to just shoot herself. Things were going so well. Why did she have to ruin it?
"Both times you walked away from the idiot holding you back and became better for it," he said quietly and she thought with a small hitch in his voice.
The table went silent again, him looking at his sandwich wrapper, her looking at her hands, folded neatly on top of the table. Finally, she picked up her empty cup. "I'm gonna…" she motioned towards the pop machine at the counter.
She stood up and had taken one step. "I hate that I'm like him," he said so quietly she was surprised she heard it.
She turned around and looked at him. He was still staring at the wrapper on the table, his hands playing with the napkin that had been on his lap. "You're not."
He chuckled sarcastically, but still didn't look at her. "You couldn't even say it convincingly."
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, a small part of her screaming that he was right. It was the same part of her that had convinced her to leave him, the same part of her that had refused to call him over the last few months or walk up to him in that bar earlier. Finally she sat back down, staring at the empty cup in her hands. "Ok, so there have been a few similarities. But there are plenty of differences too."
"We both held you back," he said quietly.
"Why?" she asked in a tone matching his.
He took a deep breath and turned in the booth so he was leaning against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. Still, he kept his eyes anywhere but on her. "So you wouldn't leave us."
He saw her nod from the corner of his eye. "But the reasons you didn't want me to leave were different."
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
She smiled slightly and looked up at him staring off in to the distance. "It does to me."
It was quiet for a while before he spoke again and she thought he might be dropping the subject, but the she heard him quietly say, "We both put you second."
She thought for a moment before answering. "You put me second, he put me much lower than that."
Finally he looked away from the wall and at her hands joined on the table in front of her. It was as close to eye contact as he could come for now. "Still, neither one of us put you first."
She shrugged. "I could've put my self first."
He shook his head and wiped harshly at his face with the palm of his hand. "You were putting me first."
"Yeah," she whispered.
Again it got quiet, and Josh watched as the kid in the green "Subway" shirt came around the counter and flipped the open/closed sign over. "Do you need us to leave?" he asked him, partially hoping the kid would say yes so he could get out of this conversation, partially hoping he'd say no so they could just get it all out on the table.
The kid nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to clean up the back room with customers here."
Josh nodded at him and watched him walk back behind the counter before standing up and taking the tray to the trashcan. When he turned around, he finally looked at her face; she had tears pooled in her eyes and he wondered how long they'd been there and how many other tears he had caused her.
She stood then and walked to the door and he jogged just a few steps to catch up with her and hold the door open for her. When he followed her outside, he longed to put his hand on her back again, but instead, he put it in his pocket and walked quietly next to her. After a few minutes, she looped her arm through his and kept walking quietly.
"You're better off without either one of us," he said a minute later, as though the conversation hadn't paused at all.
She put her head down a little, studying her shoes as she walked. "When I left him I was happy. I could sleep, I could eat, I didn't stare at the phone hoping it would ring, when he called for another chance six months later, I laughed at him."
He was surprised at the anger that shot through him at the thought of that idiot calling her for another chance, so surprised that it took him a moment to even register what she was actually telling him. "And now?"
"Tonight's the first time I've been hungry since I quit. I've lost fifteen pounds, I don't sleep, I worry about your blood pressure, I pick up the phone five times a day to call you and can't get up the nerve to his send." Her voice quivered as she said it all quickly and quietly, and he knew what a gamble she must've seen it as. She paused and stopped walking, looking up at him, and for the first time since the discussion started, they made eye contact. "I miss you more than I ever thought possible."
He shook his head. "Why? After what I did… why?"
She took a deep breath and steadied herself to say it. She was sick of near misses with him. "You know why. You've always known why."
He started to say something. Started to tell her he wasn't sure anymore and he needed her to say it, but then he shook it off. She'd come far closer than he ever had. He should throw himself at her feet now, like he'd considered doing an hour ago in the bar. He should beg her forgiveness, tell her how much he needed her, how he hasn't slept or eaten either. Instead, he asked seriously, "And if I asked for a second chance, would you laugh at me too?"
She turned then and started walking again. "He was asking for a third."
He needed her help. He wasn't as strong as her, and he needed her to read between the lines and know what he was asking. "Donna…"
The choked sound of his voice threw her and she gave in. "When he asked for a second chance, I gave it to him. He blew it."
"I won't blow it," he said so quickly that it startled both of them.
She glanced over at him and nodded but then looked forward again. "Continuing to put me second would be blowing it."
He stopped then and turned her so she was facing him and looking straight at him. "In my heart, you've never been second."
The tears began to pool in her eyes again and she couldn't hide the pain he had caused. "Your actions spoke louder," she whispered.
He nodded. "I know."
She took a deep breath and walked to a nearby bench, sitting down and looking towards the hotel. Several seconds later, she felt him sit on her left side, his arm lightly brushing hers. "Congratulations on winning California tonight," she said quietly.
He stared off in the other direction. "It didn't mean anything without you there to share it with me."
She looked towards him and her voice turned defensive. "I'm not quitting my job."
His head snapped towards her with wide eyes. "I know. I didn't mean…" Worried that he'd blown it, he reached down and lightly squeezed her knee. "I know," he said again.
She looked back towards the hotel across the street and one block over. "I'll tell you what I told him. I'm willing to try, but that doesn't mean everything's fine. There's still a lot of work we have to do. We have to learn to like each other again."
"I'm in love with you," he said as though it were the most natural thing in the world. As though he'd said it a thousand times, and she was glad she wasn't looking at him. That he couldn't see the tear that slipped down her cheek or the way her cheeks must've turned red.
She wiped the tear away but continued looking the other direction. "I'm in love with you too, but I don't necessarily like you all that much right now, and you can deny it, but I think you feel the same way."
He started to deny it, not only to her but also to himself, but it was true. He settled for leaning back against the bench, putting his arm around her loosely and pulling her a little closer to him. If he was going to say it, he needed to cushion the effect a little, for both of them. "Yeah."
She hadn't expected him to admit it, and was shocked at how badly it hurt to have him voice what she already knew. She leaned into him and spoke using a stronger voice. "You're not the only one who screwed up. You only took advantage because I let you."
He was quiet for a minute. "Yeah."
She turned her head and looked up at him to find that he'd been watching her the whole time. "You don't get all the blame here."
He raised his eyebrows and smiled hesitantly. "No?"
"No." She got an evil grin on her face. "But you get more than me."
His smile widened and for the first time since she left, he knew they'd be ok. "I deserve more than you."
"Yes you do. Now," she said, standing up. "You should walk me back to the hotel where you will not kiss me goodnight."
"That doesn't sound very fun," he said in a whiny voice that made her smile even more.
She pulled on his hands until he stood up with her and then linked their fingers together and started walking. "You could probably kiss me on the cheek."
He raised his eyebrows and ran his thumbs over her knuckles as they walked. "Really?"
She shrugged. "I don't think there'd be any harm in that."
"Could we…" he paused and took a deep breath before asking. "Maybe have breakfast in the morning before we head our separate ways?"
She looked up at him and nodded. "I don't think there'd be any harm in that either."
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "And after breakfast, where do I get to kiss you?"
She laughed. "We'll have to see how breakfast goes, but possibly on the lips."
"Yes!" he said quietly, pumping his fist into the air.
"Closed mouth and short," she said in the no nonsense voice of hers he'd missed terribly.
He groaned but smiled at her anyway. "I can live with that."
He held her hand as they crossed the street but let it go when they walked inside, choosing instead to place his hand at her back and guide her to the elevator. They were quiet on the ride to the fifth floor and down the long narrow corridor. She dug her keycard out of her purse when they got to her room and unlocked the door. "Seven o'clock in the lobby?" she asked
"What?"
"You aren't paying attention?" she asked with a smile.
"I just…"
"You were thinking about kissing me?" He made an adorable face and nodded in embarrassment. "Seven o'clock in the lobby?" she repeated.
"Sure." Then he turned serious. "Will you be able to sleep tonight?"
"Yeah. I think so," she said, nodding.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek then, and she was as soft as he remembered from the only other time he'd done it. "Thanks for the second chance," he whispered into her ear before standing straight again.
"You gave me one once, remember?" she asked him quietly.
He nodded and leaned against the frame of the door. "I couldn't live without you, I had no choice."
She stepped inside her room and smiled at him one more time before whispering, "Same here," and letting the door close between them.