Title: "A Shoulder To Cry On"
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, no matter how hard I wish. :-(
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Through Season 4
Feedback: Sure, send it my way :-)
Thanks: Yes, you've guessed it, thanks to Sharon, as ever :-)
Notes: This is my first real attempt at an angst fic, just so you know. :-)
1/1
**
"Josh, come on, we're celebrating; Toby and Andi are parents, Zoey's safe, it's time to party."
"No, Donna, we can't."
"Jooosh, no-one else is working."
"No, Donna, you don't understand."
She's trying to drag me into the bullpen to join the party. God, how the hell am I gonna do this?
"Donna, your mother died."
I didn't think it was possible for the color to drain from a person's face so fast. Wait, she's grabbing my arm again and heading for the bullpen.
"Donna, did you hear what I said? Donna?"
I've stopped in my tracks, but she's still going. I need to catch her arm. Okay, she's facing me again and she looks terrified.
"Donna, come back into the office."
She's not moving; I'm going to have to physically move her.
There, she's sitting in the visitor's chair in my office and I've closed the door. The noise from the party is still filtering through, but it's quiet enough to ignore.
"Donna, did you hear what I said?"
She's nodding mutely. God, this is like a replay of the Illinois Primary when she had to tell me that my father died; it took me a full ten minutes before I comprehended.
"Donna, I'm so, so sorry."
I've kneeled down in front of her and I'm looking up into her eyes, but she won't meet my gaze.
"I…I don't understand," she finally croaks out. "My mom can't be dead, Josh; she wasn't sick."
"I know." God, my heart is breaking from watching her face. "She…she was hit by a car. She was walking back from buying groceries and, well I guess the guy lost control or something; she was hit head-on."
"But, how do…how do you know, Josh? How do…why do *you* know and not me? This isn't…is this some kind of joke, Josh, because it's not funny."
Breathe, Josh, breathe, she needs you to be strong; she knows you wouldn't do something like that to her.
"Your brother called me. I just got off the phone when you came in."
"I still don't understand; why did he call you and not me?"
"Because he didn't want you to find out over the phone, he didn't want you to be alone; he thought it best to tell me and let me tell you."
If I'd known it would be so hard, I might have just let him tell her. No, I wouldn't have, I needed to do this.
She's comprehended it now; the tears are falling. Oh, Donna, how can I stop the pain you're feeling?
"Donna?"
My voice is just a whisper, I don't want to startle her; she needs time to let everything sink in fully.
"I…I…"
She can't finish the sentence, her voice won't work; I remember the feeling.
"Shh, come here."
I lean forward and wrap my arms around her, half-pulling her from the seat. I can feel my shirt getting wet from her tears, but that's what I want, she needs to let it out.
"It's okay, Donna, it's gonna be okay."
I heard her breath hitch there and she's trying to pull away. What…? Oh, hell.
"Donna, I know it seems now that it won't be okay, that it can never be okay again, but you'll get through this, I promise. It'll be one of the hardest things you ever have to deal with, but you'll come through it; I won't let you not come out the other side."
"Josh, are you gonna --"
Dammit, why does no-one knock around here anymore?
"What, CJ?"
I know I barked at her there, but can you blame me?
"I…Is everything okay?"
She's closed the door and is casting a worried glance in Donna's direction. I need to tell CJ what's happened, but I can't, not in Donna's earshot; CJ's pity will make her feel worse, I know it. What do I do though? I can't leave Donna to go and tell CJ outside, not right now.
"My mom was killed by a car."
Donna's voice was so quiet I hardly heard her myself, but somehow CJ caught it.
"Oh, God, Donna, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
I can feel Donna shaking her head against my shoulder and she's looked away from CJ again.
"CJ, could you…?"
I motion towards the door with my head and she takes the hint, leaving the room to let everyone know. I know when she's told them as the music stops and I can barely hear the mutterings of shocked and concerned colleagues.
Okay, as much as I know Donna needs the comfort, my knees are aching and I need to move, just a little bit. Damn, Donna lifted her head. I know she knows what's wrong and now she looks guilty.
"I'm sorry, Josh," she whispers.
"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for, it's just my old age," I joke, trying to get her to smile; I need to see her smile.
She didn't smile.
I'm standing up now and looking down at her. She looks so lost, so afraid.
"Come here," I say softly, holding my hand out. She takes it and I pull her up from the chair and lead her to my own desk chair. I sink down into it and pull her onto my lap. "There, that's better. Now, feel free to soak my other shoulder."
I'm teasing her to try and lighten the atmosphere, but I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing. Another look of guilt crosses her face and I give her a sympathetic smile. Finally, she gives in and leans her head on my other shoulder, letting the tears fall freely again; I can feel her shake with every sob and I know it won't be long before I join her. I won't be crying for her mom though, I'll be crying for Donna; crying for the pain I know she's in, the pain I can't stop. I'll be crying because I'm powerless to help her in any way other than provide comfort and really, what good is a literal shoulder to cry on when your mom has just died?
I just heard the door open, but I don't want to turn around. I know who it will be; it will be the President. If I turn around and acknowledge that though, I'll need to follow protocol and stand up; Donna's not ready for that.
"Josh, don't get up," he says as I hear the door close and him step into the room.
Now that he's said that I can turn us around in the chair. I'm facing him now, but Donna's not, her face is almost glued to my neck and I can feel her trying to pull herself together.
"Donna, I'm so very sorry."
This reminds me of his visit to the airport the night my father died, when he offered to go home with me. He had so many other places to be that night, but he meant his offer; he would have dropped everything to support me. I truly knew then that he needed to be President, to share his support with the American people.
I can tell from his face that he doesn't expect Donna to look at him, but I know she won't forgive herself if she doesn't. I rub her back gently, telling her it's okay and she slowly twists around in my lap so that she's facing him. She's perched on my left leg now, her back pressed against my chest and she's, unconsciously I think, reaching for my right hand with her own. I willingly give her my hand and I've wrapped my left arm around her, my left hand resting gently on her stomach.
"Thank you, Sir," she says slowly, her voice almost at breaking point.
"If there's anything you need, Donna, you just have to ask."
She nods her head and I can feel her trembling; the tears are not far away.
"Debbie's booking a flight for you both now, Josh."
What? Wow, I didn't even think about that; Donna needs to be in Wisconsin. Wait, did he just say *both*?
"Thank you, Sir, but I need to stay --"
"Josh, don't be stupid, you need to go; you know you do."
He's right, but I can't leave the White House, not right now, there's too much going on.
"Sir, I --"
"Josh, if I have to order you, I will. You and I both know you won't be any use around here, so stop trying to tear yourself in half; you're going to Wisconsin."
Donna has buried her face in my neck again and I hear her whisper, "Stay, Josh, I'll be okay."
I don't know what to do. I want to go with Donna, be there for her, but I know Leo needs me here. The other thing is, what if I can't hide my feelings? My heart is already breaking seeing Donna this upset; what am I going to be like when she's with her family? Do I even have a right to be there? I turn to look at Donna and see the look in her eyes; she does want me there, I know it.
"Thank you, Sir," I say to accept his offer.
I grip Donna's hand tighter for a moment and then let go, using both of my hands to move her again, so that her legs are pointed over the side of my chair and her right side is pressed against my chest. I then wrap both arms around her and place a gentle kiss on the side of her head. I know the President is watching all this, but I don't care anymore; he just gave me the signal to do what I need to do. The thing is though, I can't really do *exactly* what I need to do; I still can't tell Donna that I'm in love with her, not now. If I did, she might think it was my way of trying to comfort her, but it's so much more than that. I need to help her through this first, help her get over the death of her mother, and then we'll see what happens.
"We'll let you know the flight arrangements, Josh," the President says gently, trying not to upset Donna further.
I nod.
"Do you need anything? Someone to go to your apartments?"
That's a point, we both need to pack clothes.
"I…I'll take us, Sir."
"I'll arrange a car."
"No, I can take my own."
"Josh, I'll arrange a car."
I don't think he's doing it because he doesn't think I can drive, I think it's his way of doing something to help. Plus, this way I can concentrate on Donna during the journey.
"Let me know when you're ready to leave, I'll make the arrangements."
I know what he means by that; he means that he'll clear a path from my office to the car, so that no-one watches us as we leave, other than the Secret Service of course.
"Thank you."
*
Someone just gently knocked on the door and I see it open, just a crack; it's Leo. I signal for him to come in and he quietly closes the door behind him.
"Donna, Leo's here," I whisper.
She slowly raises her head and turns to look at him. I think Leo's shocked by what he sees; her tear-stained face and disheveled appearance. He doesn't seem shocked by the position we're sitting in though, I guess the President must have told him, not that he'd have really expected anything different anyway; Leo knows how I feel about Donna, though we've never openly discussed it.
"Donna, nothing I can say will make you feel better, I know that, but just let me say that my thoughts are with you and your family. Anything I can do to help, just say the word," he tells her.
She nods and I feel the trembling starting again, so I pull her head back into my neck and start rubbing her back again. Leo says nothing, but his eyes show that he understands.
"Your flight is arranged, Josh; you leave National in two hours."
"Thanks, Leo, we'll be ready to leave in about ten minutes."
He nods his understanding and leaves the room to clear the area. Donna has turned her head so that she's looking at me.
"You okay?" I ask softly.
"Yeah," she replies, but her breath hitches. "I just…I still can't take it in, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. It'll hit you later, big time," I tell her sadly, remembering my own experience. "I'll be with you though; I'll help you, I promise."
"Josh, you need to stay here, you have to work."
"Donna, you heard the President; he was right, I wouldn't be any use here."
"Josh --"
"Donna, I'm coming with you," I say firmly.
I can feel her relax in my arms, now that she knows she won't be alone for the flight. I know when I flew home after dad, I spent the whole flight kicking myself for not being with him and I had no-one to convince me that I wouldn't have been able to do anything anyway.
*
I didn't get the car to stop at my apartment. Instead, I just grabbed my spare clothes from the office, which consist of a suit, two dress shirts, jeans, a casual shirt and underwear. I ordered the car to go straight to Donna's apartment, sensing she needed to get things done as quickly as possible, rather than hanging around and waiting for me.
Her roommate became alarmed as soon as we entered the apartment, as soon as she saw Donna's tear-stained face. I pushed Donna in the direction of her bedroom and then quietly imparted the information to her roommate, asking her to help Donna pack.
I'm pacing around the living room, waiting on Donna to emerge from her room. Her roommate came out a minute ago and headed for the bathroom, probably packing up the stuff Donna will need from there.
Uh oh, I'm outside her bedroom and I can hear her crying again. I don't know whether to go in or whether to get her roommate. Will she want me to go in? I mean, she's packing her clothes…personal items, should I intrude on that? Oh hell, I can't stand out here when she's in there crying.
"Donna?"
I push open the door and wait for her to look at me. She's not turning around, but I can see her reflection in the window and her shoulders are visibly shaking. I need to go to her; it's hurting me to not be there.
"Donna."
I turn her around to face me and wrap my arms around her. She wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head against my chest, over my heart. Her eyes are bloodshot from all the crying and I offer her a handkerchief.
"It's clean," I say when she looks at it warily.
That prompted a smile, a small one, but still a smile. She sniffs back her tears and takes a deep breath before packing up the rest of her stuff. I take a seat on the bed and watch her until her roommate returns. I'm gonna go back into the living room for a minute, give them some time alone.
*
Leo told me we were to pick up the tickets at the airport. I discovered we'd been booked into first class and, when I signed for the tickets, I noticed that they'd been charged to Leo McGarry; I have a feeling he won't let be reimburse him for them.
We're on the plane now. First class means that there are few people in the cabin. Those that are here are either busy working or are sleeping, since this is a red eye flight. Donna looks exhausted, but I know she won't sleep, she's too afraid of what she'll dream about. I pull her close to me, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. I made sure she had the window seat, to give her more privacy, and she's buried her face into my neck again. She looks as though she doesn't know how she'll cope, but I know she will, she's stronger than she gives herself credit for.
*
The funeral's not going to be for another three days; they need to investigate the accident. Donna keeps telling me that I don't need to be here, that I should go back to D.C., back to work. She did relent and admit she'd like me to attend the funeral, but she says I could go back in the meantime. I keep insisting that I want to stay, and that the White House can survive without me for once. I don't tell her that I *need* to stay, that it would be too painful to leave her right now, that my heart won't allow me to go.
She's rushing around making arrangements for the funeral. It worries me to see her face so drawn, her eyes so red. I haven't seen her this tired in a long time and, with the hours we work, that makes me worry even more. We're both staying at her parents house; Donna in her old room and me in the Guest Room, right next door to hers. When we arrived last night, or should I say early this morning, we briefly spoke to her brother and then went to bed; her father was already in his room and Donna didn't want to disturb him. I lay awake all night listening to her crying next door. I think she was trying to get it out of her system once and for all, but I know there's more to come. I didn't tell her that I knew she'd been crying all night; I just knocked on her door this morning and took her a cup of sugar-laden hot tea. I told her that her father was awake and to take her time getting ready. I also told her I was next door if she wanted me; I didn't know if she wanted me with her when she first saw her father.
She quietly opened my door when she was dressed and silently asked me with her eyes to go downstairs with her. I jumped out of my chair and reached for her hand, feeling her grip it tightly as we walked to the living room.
She ran into her father's arms as soon as she saw him and she looked like a little girl; my heart ached for her. Glancing around the room, I saw photos of Donna and her brother as children; photos from vacations; photos from what I presume were school field trips; photos with their parents…family photos, photos of a happy Moss family. That's something that won't happen anymore; they won't be a happy family. Oh sure, they might be happy, they might get over it, but they'll never be a *family* again; never be Donna, her brother, her mom and her dad. I took a step back from Donna and her father, trying to give them some privacy. Her brother caught my eye and motioned towards the dining room. He told me the date for the funeral, and the cause of the delay; the jerk driver is claiming Donna's mom stepped into the road. The forensics will show the truth, but they need to wait for the results, wait for the evidence. However, they managed to get a definite date for when the body would be released and the funeral home called early this morning to let him know the date.
Donna has insisted on going to the funeral home with her father and brother. I'm not going to offer to go with them, I think they need to do this on their own and I can sense that Donna agrees with me. Marcia, Donna's sister-in-law, is coming over later this morning to help clean the house, get it ready for the expected influx of well-wishers; I'm going to help her. I know I'm not known for my tidiness, but I need to do something.
*
It took them two hours to sort things out at the funeral home. It will be a closed-casket service and I think that's for the best, given the injuries Mrs Moss sustained. Donna said that none of the family are going to view her mom's body, they want to remember her as she was. She seems relieved at this decision and I can understand that. Something has just occurred to me though…
"Donna, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For making it so that you never get to take a vacation, never get to spend time with your family."
I really *am* sorry about that, especially now.
"Josh, it's okay, I love my job; I wouldn't have had it any other way."
I'm sitting beside her on the couch in her bedroom; we left her brother and sister-in-law to cook a meal for us all and her father is resting.
"Are you sure? I mean, now that…" I don't need to finish the sentence, I know she gets my meaning.
"She knew I was happy, Josh, that's what matters."
Her voice is soft and she's holding my gaze. God, what am I doing? I'm here to help Donna, yet she's now comforting *me*, pulling me out of my little guilt-trip; what kind of friend am I? I claim to love her, yet I do this? Okay, Josh, focus and snap out of it.
"I promise to try and let you get home more frequently," I offer.
"You 'promise to try'?"
She's giving me an amused raised-eyebrow look; guess I can't blame her, and at least she's semi-smiling again.
"You know what I'm like," I shrug.
"Yeah, I do," she says softly. "I also know that you'll never change, but I don't want you to."
What does that mean? I can't ask her though, now's not the time. Instead, I'll settle for smiling at her and letting her rest her head on my shoulder again.
*
I raised another smile from Donna when I admitted that I needed to go and buy some clothes and other necessities - I had borrowed shaving gear, etc. from her brother, but I needed to buy some stuff of my own. The funeral is tomorrow and I want to look my best for it, show my respect for Mrs Moss, and for Donna. She's agreed to go shopping with me, which is a good thing as I think she needs to get out of the house and face some of the people in town. Her mother was well-known and liked and her death has hit everyone hard; if Donna sees some of them now, it might be a little less overwhelming at the funeral.
*
We spent nearly three hours at the local mall, something I would never have believed I could do; I hate shopping. However, Donna seemed to be enjoying watching me try on clothes, so I took my time. I didn't need to buy a suit for the funeral, the one I brought with me was fine for that, but I needed some more casual clothes, for the trip home. Every time I tried something on, I asked Donna's opinion and she looked me up and down before replying. We had a bit of fun where I tried on a hideous Hawaiian shirt and I was amazed at how much emotion I felt by hearing her laugh again. I finally persuaded Donna to have a look around as well, and she bought one or two things, but I wasn't treated to a fashion show, despite my requests.
*
Donnatella Moss is an amazing woman. She cried throughout the funeral, understandably, but afterwards she was so strong. Things were helped by some great friends of the Moss family; they recalled some humorous stories from Donna's childhood that brought laughter to the house.
I thought I would feel out of place at the funeral, but I didn't. I sat at the front, with Donna and her family. Donna was next to her father and I sat between her and her brother. I offered to let them sit beside each other and I would sit behind them, but Donna gripped my hand and gave me a heart-wrenching pleading look.
Afterwards, in the Moss family home, I expected to feel really awkward, as I wasn't sure how to introduce myself to people. However, I always seemed to either be with Donna, her father, her brother or her sister-in-law and they introduced me to everyone; they just said I was Josh. Turns out that no further explanation was needed, everyone knew I was Donna's boss; apparently her mom was like my dad, frequently telling people about who her child worked for. No-one seemed to question the fact that I was there, as Donna's boss, but I think it was fairly obvious that I was there to support Donna; the fact that I kept following her with my eyes no matter where she went probably gave it away.
*
It's late now, everyone has left and it's just the immediate family who remain; Donna's brother and his wife are going to stay in the house for a few days, until her father is feeling strong enough to cope on his own. Donna and I are heading back to D.C. tomorrow night; I offered to stay longer, but she wants to get back to normal. We're sitting outside on the porch, in the swing chair. Donna is curled up beside me and the tears are flowing again. My heart is aching because I want to kiss the tears from her cheeks, but I can't; I can't let her know that it's hurting me to see her hurt, why it hurts me so much. I can't yet tell her that I love her, or rather that I'm *in* love with her; it would be too much for her now.
"Thank you, Josh," she almost whispers.
"For what?" I breathe against her hair.
"For being here, with me, *for* me."
"I wouldn't be anywhere else."
I mean that, even though I felt torn a few days ago, thinking I should stay in D.C. to help Leo. I know now that I made the right decision; I had to put Donna first.
"Josh, when we…"
"When we what?" I prompt after a few moments of silence.
She's pushed herself up into a proper sitting position and is looking at me intently.
"When we get back to D.C., we need to talk."
If I'm reading her face correctly, and I hope I am, I think she wants to talk about *us*. There's been a definite shift in our relationship over the last few days, and it's not all been down to the emotional trauma and stress.
"We do," I agree, "and we will, when the time is right."
I reach for her and pull her against me again, but she's still looking up at me.
"You need time to adjust, Donna, you don't need anything else added or changed in your life right now."
"I --"
She starts to interrupt me, but I silence her by putting a finger to her lips.
"I'm not going anywhere, Donna."
"I know," she says quietly as she places her head against my chest again and reaches for my left hand; my right arm is around her shoulders.
I drop a kiss to her head and listen to her breathing change as she falls into a light sleep. I know my back is going to hurt later as a result of this, but I don't care; Donna is more important and I need to show her that.
"I'm not going anywhere either, you know," she whispers and I realize she's not quite asleep yet.
"I know," I whisper back; this time, she sleeps.
**
The End