Spoilers: Through S7.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my inspiration.
AN: This was a birthday present for Chris back in January.. Thanks to Grace for beta-ing.
Foolish one with the smile
You don't have to be brave
I'll gladly climb your walls
If you'll meet me halfway
be still; kelly clarkson
She's not sure when she's ever seen him this still. Josh doesn't do still. He's usually such a ball of nervous energy, hopping from one project, one task, to the next, never staying in one place long. And on the rare occasions he's actually in his office and not the Oval Office or the Roosevelt room or at some meeting on the Hill, then he has ten million things scattered on his desk and calls coming in and out and people shuffling around him like a whirlwind. With the constant flurry of activity that usually surrounds him, the idea of what it must actually be like inside his head is a little scary.
Her fingers tighten around her coffee mug as she hugs the doorframe that leads to the sunroom neither of them has any real use for. It has big bay windows that you can watch the sunset from; at least, that's what the realtor said. But they'd have to make it home before the sun had set to know for sure.
He's sitting on the wicker couch and peering out of those windows now. The first snow of the season is frosting the backyard; the flakes drift down lazily, knowing the ground will be there when they finally land. She stands there watching the snowflakes and watching him until the stillness becomes too much and she clears her throat.
Amy's voice cracks a little when she starts, not really knowing what to say and finally settling on the easiest. "That was your mom on the phone. She said you could call her back later."
He doesn't acknowledge her statement right away, but after a few moments he nods a little. She can almost see the wheels in his head start turning a little bit more as he returns to the present.
Setting her mug down on the table just inside the room, she takes a few steps and joins him on the couch. Pushing back the sleeve of his oversized pajama shirt, she intertwines her fingers with his and lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding in when he squeezes her hand in return.
"It's her birthday today."
She leans her head over on his shoulder and squeezes his hand back before replying, "I know, J." It's almost a whisper when it leaves her mouth. She knows he doesn't really hear her anyway; they go through this every year.
He sighs, and she can almost see the whole world and everyone he's loved and lost and everything he's scared to lose resting on him, pressing down on him and keeping him suspended in this stillness. And the truth is he's letting it. Once a year he has to let it make him remember.
"She loved the snow."
In his voice, she can hear the faintest hint of a smile.
"Yeah?" she asks, and she brushes her thumb across the top of his hand. The sunlight starts to creep over the top of the house and fall onto the yard, and she wonders for a moment how the phone isn't already ringing off the hook. At this rate they're bound to be late for work, but today it's okay. Today she knows he needs this moment to remember, to be still.
A few more minutes pass and he swallows before replying, "Yeah, yeah she would have thought this was just for her."
"Maybe it is," she adds, softly.
He gives a half nod in response, and his stubble brushes against her hair as he turns his head to press a kiss against it. Turning back to the snow, he tightens his hold on her hand. "Maybe."