Josh muttered a few choice words under his breath as he tugged at his bow tie. He'd been able to tie his own since high school, but after years of secretly indulging in allowing Donna to be that close for the task he'd lost his skill. There was nothing more than a wadded mess hanging around his neck.

He wasn't amused with her today. He'd pulled quite a few strings to get her a ticket to the concert tonight- nobody else was bringing their assistant, that was for sure. And though he knew in his heart Donna wasn't just his assistant, that's who she was to him on paper. Yes, in the grand scheme of things of course he knew she deserved more than a ticket to a cello concert, but he didn't have the time or energy to go down that path right now.

Besides, she'd betrayed him.

She'd spent the better part of the morning talking to some guy from ATVA when she should have been helping him in the office. God only knows what she told him.

"DONNA!"

She appeared in his doorway, a vision in an ice blue formal dress. Even in his current state he noticed immediately how beautiful she looked, though the thought of greeting her with a smile and a soft kiss stayed somewhere in the far reaches of his mind.

"Tie," he practically barked. He remained stone faced, looking at something else across the room as her fingers found their familiar rhythm. He could smell her lavender shampoo her and occasionally feel her soft hands brush against his chin, but he blocked that out too, though her presence perhaps calmed him for a moment, even if he fought it.

Donna studied him closely, frightened at what she saw. He, frankly, looked like hell. He'd always be handsome to her, of course, but it was clear that he hasn't been sleeping. He was worked up, wound tighter than she'd ever seen him, with dark circles under his wild eyes. His hair was unkempt and even for that night's formal event he was looking somewhat unshaven. She smoothed his lapels once she was done, unsure of what else to do to break through to him. She was desperate to remain close to him, so she lingered for a moment. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. To give him a soft kiss. To ask him to talk to her. But she knew better than that. She knew he wouldn't- not now. Not anymore. And she knew that they were long past the stage where Donna could fix any of this on her own.

"You're going to be late." He didn't mutter a thank you when she finished, walking off towards the concert and finding a seat away from her. He just wanted to be done with this entire night and away from all of these people.

He'd timed it so that most guests had taken their places when he'd arrived, avoiding any unnecessary chit chat all evening. He'd found an empty seat, sitting intentionally away from Donna. He still couldn't believe she'd spoken to the ATVA representative. And for over an hour, at that. Toby, Sam and CJ had been required to as well, but they were in and out in 15 minutes. What could she have possibly had to say that had taken so long? He could have dissected that answer for hours but the music began and Josh's focus shifted once again.

But it was only moments after the bow touched the strings that Josh became anxious. And with every note the mayhem inside his head increased. He shifted in his seat. He couldn't make it stop. Josh winced as if in pain. It felt so real. He heard the sirens and saw the flashing lights, he tasted the adrenaline and remembered the doctors and the ambulance. He couldn't make it stop.

The beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. He had to get the hell out of there. And now.

He stood and left, not caring about protocol or where he was at the moment, just needing to go before anyone saw him.

But Toby saw him. Terrified for his brother.

And Leo saw him. He ached for his son.

And of course, Donna saw it.

It was only a fraction of a second before she politely excused herself and made her way out the door behind him. She couldn't keep up with him in her heels and he already had a head start on her. She heard the door to his office slam as she rounded the corner into the bullpen.

Josh leaned his hands up on either side of the window in his office, staring into the dark December night, his eyes frantically scanning the view beyond the cold window panes as his intake of air came in short, shallow spurts. He was just going to catch his breath for a moment. Get his hands to stop shaking. Then he'd gather his things and get into a cab and go home. He had to get out of here before everyone left the concert. He had to go. NOW.

Josh heard a soft knock on the door, followed immediately but the squeak of the hinges and the latch of the knob locking again.

"Go away, Donna," he growled, not even having to turn around to know who'd entered his office. Even now he could sense her presence.

But she held her ground.

Rubbing his eyes furiously, Josh began pacing in front of his desk. He was frantic. He was spinning out of control and he knew it. He felt as if his world was crashing around him.

He was reliving it, squeezing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose to try and fend it off. But he couldn't make it stop.

She approached him tentatively. She'd never seen him like this before. Donna tugged on one end of his bowtie, letting it fall around his neck and quickly undid the top buttons on his shirt.

He rolled his shoulders a bit, almost shrugging her off. She paused briefly, trying to figure out where to go from here.

He needed an escape. He needed to feel something. Anything.

The next thing she knew he was sliding his arms around her waist and kissing her. He wasn't soft or tentative, but rather desperate and needy, deepening the kiss as though he was searching for something.

And she wanted him to find whatever he was searching for. She'd waited for this moment for years. She was searching too. Trying to find him so she could lead him back home.

She'd give him anything he asked for. If needed to get lost in her, she'd let him. She began to sink into him, letting her hand find his cheek, allowing herself to fell secure in his arms, where she'd wanted to be for years, when something clicked inside Josh. It was almost as though he finally started to realize what was happening.

And just as quickly as it began, Josh broke away, stepping back from Donna and pushing her away.

"Oh God," he muttered, still reeling from what had just happened. He could barely hear himself think over the increasing volume of the sirens. "That was- that was a mistake," he scrubbed his hands over his face.

Donna stood, mouth agape, and stared at him, suddenly shaky on her own two feet. What was happening?

"Josh?"

Her eyes pleaded with his. Pleaded not to throw this away. Pleaded for him to open up to her. Pleaded for him to say he didn't mean it. Pleaded for everything to just be alright again.

She took a tentative step towards him, but he held his arms up, trying to keep her away.

"This is NEVER going to work. I've got to get away from you. I've got to get away from here." Without saying a word he grabbed his overcoat, sending the coat rack rocking as he flew by, slamming the door to his office and racing out of the West Wing.

Donna couldn't hold it back anymore, melting immediately into a pile of anguish. She wasn't sure how long she sat on the floor in Josh's office- she was beyond distraught. She'd hoped she could reach him- she wanted to reach him- but she hadn't prepared herself for the reality that he might not want her to. She was grief stricken at the loss of him, locking herself in his office once she was able to get her bearings about her. She didn't want to deal with anyone that night. She cried in his chair for what probably amounted to hours, until she composed herself enough to get home, where she was physically ill on two occasions just thinking about what her life would be after he pushed her away.

Josh frantically went through the motions of getting in a cab at the front gate and heading home- he was running on muscle memory.

What had he just done? He'd fucked it all up, that's what.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. He had to make it stop. When the cab pulled up in front of his brownstone he handed a wad of bills to the driver and stumbled up the steps, barely even taking the time to shut the door before pouring himself a large glass of scotch.

It was either her or the sirens. But he had to be able to drink one of them away. He had to.

He sat on the couch and took a long pull straight from the bottle, resting his head in his hands as his knee jigged nervously. He stood quickly and began to pace again, nervous energy coursing through his veins. God, what was wrong with him? Why couldn't he make it all stop? What had he done?

He looked around his apartment, which he barely recognized anymore. It was a disaster. But everywhere he looked there were small sprinkles of her. The sweatshirt she wore while she stayed with him and when they worked late nights thrown over the chair in his bedroom. Her distinctive penmanship scrawling out the numbers he frequently needed on a note by his phone. The flavored waters she drank were in his fridge. Even the scarf intertwined in the lapels of his overcoat was a gift from her last winter.

"Just because," she'd told him on an otherwise insignificant but chilly morning as he was leaving for The Hill. "It'll keep you warm. Besides, it brings out your eyes."

And, even if he'd missed the hundreds of other pieces of her mixed easily into his life, he couldn't miss the items on his bookshelf. The painting he'd purchased during their last full day on the island, leaning next to a photo of her dancing with him at inauguration. He stared at it, brow furrowed, unblinking. And he knew that if he reached his hand into the jacket of his tuxedo that damn worry stone would be there, too. It was practically burning a hole in his pocket. He just couldn't get away from her. He knew he should never have left that island without her, and when he was given a second and third chance he threw those away, too.

But she wasn't his biggest problem that night. His pulse was still racing. His heart pounding. He couldn't make it stop.

And at some point he heard the shatter of glass and a few moments later the pounding on the door from the superintendent. He was stunned, unable to bring himself to answer, as he noticed for the first time the blood on his hand.