Residual Scarring 4/?
See part 1 for disclaimers.
Washington, D.C. - The Lincoln Memorial
Josh Lyman sighed as he snapped his cell phone shut and dropped it into the pocket of his suit coat. He hated lying to his assistant. He dropped down onto the step of the Lincoln Memorial, folded his arms across his knees, and rested his chin on his arms. Not a very dignified position for a top level political operative, but at the moment he didn't care. He didn't really feel like a top level political operative. He hated lying to Donna. He thought over the conversation in his mind. 'Yeah, it went well.' He had told her. 'I'm fine. Look, I'm going to go straight to my lunch with Leo. I'll see you later.' She had sounded relieved, although not totally convinced.
Josh blew out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and coughed a few times. He gazed down The Mall. There was something about sitting there in the late spring sun looking out at the city he'd grown to love. The sight calmed him slightly, but as his mind began to wander the doubts crept in one by one.
'I can't do my job. It's not going to work for me to keep excusing myself from meetings to hack up a lung. It's bad for the Presidency; makes the administration look weak.' Josh held his head in his hands, eyes closed. He couldn't stand to disappoint the President, to disappoint Leo. He was tired of the looks his friends constantly cast him. He tried to will it away. 'I should have been the one to die.' The haunting statement that he'd repeated for years rang in his head. 'Why Joanie? Why not me?' He briefly gripped his head tighter before scrubbing his hands through his already mussed hair and looking up.
Josh looked at his watch and mentally did the calculations to guess at the correct time. He needed to get back to the White House to meet Leo. He stood and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. Josh heaved a sigh then started down the steps and back to work.
The White House Mess
White House Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry looked up from his sandwich and scanned the room for the hundredth time. This time he was rewarded with the sight of his deputy walking toward him, carrying a tray. He noted with some concern the meager contents of Josh's lunch; a muffin and a cup of coffee. "Donna's going to have your head if she finds out what you're eating." Leo stated as the younger man dropped wearily into the seat across from him.
Josh shot a guilty look at his boss. "I don't plan on telling her." he replied before dropping his gaze.
Leo took in Josh's appearance with a growing sense of dread. The man was pale and thin. His face appeared drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes. A phrase he'd once heard Zoey Bartlet use leaped into his mind - 'death on a Triscuit'. Leo shook his head, upset at himself for the thought. "How'd your morning go?" He asked.
"Just great. I hacked up a lung in the Oval office, nearly lost it in front of my assistant, and almost hacked up another lung in front of Senator Collins. I'm on a roll here." Josh answered bitterly, keeping his eyes focused on his meager lunch, too afraid to meet the intense gaze of his boss-mentor-friend. He picked at the muffin.
"Okay. I think today was too soon. You're going to finish your day early and go home. You're going to take the next couple of days off and get this under control."
Josh looked up in alarm. "I don't need more time off." His voice was panicked. The doubts that he'd pushed to the back of his mind came flooding back, echoing in his mind, even as he spoke to the contrary. "I can do my job, Leo."
"I don't doubt you can, but right now you're going under, fast." Leo reached across the table to place a hand on Josh's arm. "You are vital to this administration, Josh. We can't afford to loose you. Go home. Rest."
"Leo." Josh's voice rose to a whine.
"I'm not arguing this with you Josh."
"Leo."
"No." Leo's voice was firm, his face set.
Josh looked away, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He abruptly pushed away from the table and stood. "I'm so sick of this." He muttered angrily as he walked away.
"You didn't eat." Leo called after him.
"I'm not hungry." Josh shot back over his shoulder as he left the Mess.
Leo watched him go, then picked up his cell phone and dialed.
The West Wing- Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff
Donna Moss had discovered long ago that her ability to multitask was an immensely valuable skill. Now she sat at her desk going through files, eating lunch, and thinking about the phone call from her boss. He had sounded exhausted and depressed. While his words told her things had gone well and that he was fine, his tone and cadence told a completely different story. She hated it when he lied to her, and she knew for certain that was what had happened. Donna took a bite of sandwich and stared absently at the memo before her, reading but not absorbing the words.
"Have you heard from him?" Sam Seaborn leaned against the door casing, hands in his pockets.
"He called after his meeting with Senator Collins."
"And?"
"He said it went fine. He said he was fine."
"But you don't believe him." Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back to rest against the door casing. Without bidding, the images of that morning's incident in the Oval Office came to mind. The memory of his best friend coughing, gagging, gasping for breath pained him. He opened his eyes to see Donna watching him. Sam flashed a weak smile and moved to drop into the visitor's chair beside her desk.
Donna swiveled her chair to face Sam. She dropped her hands into her lap. "He didn't sound fine. He's not himself. This morning."
"What happened this morning?" Sam idly tapped a rhythm on his leg with his fingers.
"What do you mean? You were there. I wasn't."
"He had a flashback, didn't he" It came out more a statement then a question. Sam had been mulling over the thought in his head all morning. He was pretty certain that he'd recognized the outward signs. "It wasn't just the asthma and the bronchitis."
Donna nodded sadly. "He's really hurting and not just physically. I'm afraid of losing him, Sam."
Sam reached over and captured Donna's shaking hand in his own. "We're going to get through this. Do you think we should call Stanley?"
"That may not be a bad idea." Donna turned away from Sam to answer the ringing phone on her desk. "Leo? Aren't you supposed to be having lunch with Josh?"
Sam looked quizzically at the blond assistant, the worried look on her face growing more intense.
"It's light; two conference calls and an appointment with the respiratory therapist. Yes, I can do that." Donna looked up as Josh stormed down the hall, past them without so much as glancing in their direction, and slammed the office door behind him. "Yeah, that was him. Okay. Thank you Leo." Donna hung up the phone and closed her eyes briefly as if gathering strength to continue. She pushed herself to her feet and looked at Sam. "I just may be making that call tonight." Donna stopped at Josh's door, hand on the knob. She turned back to Sam, who sat still in the chair watching her. "We have to get him through this intact." She drew a deep breath and then entered the office, closing the door behind her.
Josh lay on the couch, eyes closed, right hand resting on his chest; his long, slender fingers lightly tracing the scar through the fabric of his shirt. He heard the door of his office open but remained where he was. "Go away Donna. I don't want to talk right now." He heard her hesitate before she sat down on the couch next to his hip. He kept his eyes closed; afraid they would betray the misery and turmoil he felt. "Please." He pleaded, his voice performing the betrayal he'd feared from his eyes.
Donna grasped his hand, stilling his fingers. Josh felt the warmth of her touch spread through his fingers and chest and knew that he was going to loose the tenuous grasp on his composure. Tears slipped from his closed eyes, and as he truly cried for the first time in a very long time, Donna gathered him in her arms and rocked him as if he were a small child.
Washington, D.C. - The Lincoln Memorial
Josh Lyman sighed as he snapped his cell phone shut and dropped it into the pocket of his suit coat. He hated lying to his assistant. He dropped down onto the step of the Lincoln Memorial, folded his arms across his knees, and rested his chin on his arms. Not a very dignified position for a top level political operative, but at the moment he didn't care. He didn't really feel like a top level political operative. He hated lying to Donna. He thought over the conversation in his mind. 'Yeah, it went well.' He had told her. 'I'm fine. Look, I'm going to go straight to my lunch with Leo. I'll see you later.' She had sounded relieved, although not totally convinced.
Josh blew out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and coughed a few times. He gazed down The Mall. There was something about sitting there in the late spring sun looking out at the city he'd grown to love. The sight calmed him slightly, but as his mind began to wander the doubts crept in one by one.
'I can't do my job. It's not going to work for me to keep excusing myself from meetings to hack up a lung. It's bad for the Presidency; makes the administration look weak.' Josh held his head in his hands, eyes closed. He couldn't stand to disappoint the President, to disappoint Leo. He was tired of the looks his friends constantly cast him. He tried to will it away. 'I should have been the one to die.' The haunting statement that he'd repeated for years rang in his head. 'Why Joanie? Why not me?' He briefly gripped his head tighter before scrubbing his hands through his already mussed hair and looking up.
Josh looked at his watch and mentally did the calculations to guess at the correct time. He needed to get back to the White House to meet Leo. He stood and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. Josh heaved a sigh then started down the steps and back to work.
The White House Mess
White House Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry looked up from his sandwich and scanned the room for the hundredth time. This time he was rewarded with the sight of his deputy walking toward him, carrying a tray. He noted with some concern the meager contents of Josh's lunch; a muffin and a cup of coffee. "Donna's going to have your head if she finds out what you're eating." Leo stated as the younger man dropped wearily into the seat across from him.
Josh shot a guilty look at his boss. "I don't plan on telling her." he replied before dropping his gaze.
Leo took in Josh's appearance with a growing sense of dread. The man was pale and thin. His face appeared drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes. A phrase he'd once heard Zoey Bartlet use leaped into his mind - 'death on a Triscuit'. Leo shook his head, upset at himself for the thought. "How'd your morning go?" He asked.
"Just great. I hacked up a lung in the Oval office, nearly lost it in front of my assistant, and almost hacked up another lung in front of Senator Collins. I'm on a roll here." Josh answered bitterly, keeping his eyes focused on his meager lunch, too afraid to meet the intense gaze of his boss-mentor-friend. He picked at the muffin.
"Okay. I think today was too soon. You're going to finish your day early and go home. You're going to take the next couple of days off and get this under control."
Josh looked up in alarm. "I don't need more time off." His voice was panicked. The doubts that he'd pushed to the back of his mind came flooding back, echoing in his mind, even as he spoke to the contrary. "I can do my job, Leo."
"I don't doubt you can, but right now you're going under, fast." Leo reached across the table to place a hand on Josh's arm. "You are vital to this administration, Josh. We can't afford to loose you. Go home. Rest."
"Leo." Josh's voice rose to a whine.
"I'm not arguing this with you Josh."
"Leo."
"No." Leo's voice was firm, his face set.
Josh looked away, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He abruptly pushed away from the table and stood. "I'm so sick of this." He muttered angrily as he walked away.
"You didn't eat." Leo called after him.
"I'm not hungry." Josh shot back over his shoulder as he left the Mess.
Leo watched him go, then picked up his cell phone and dialed.
The West Wing- Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff
Donna Moss had discovered long ago that her ability to multitask was an immensely valuable skill. Now she sat at her desk going through files, eating lunch, and thinking about the phone call from her boss. He had sounded exhausted and depressed. While his words told her things had gone well and that he was fine, his tone and cadence told a completely different story. She hated it when he lied to her, and she knew for certain that was what had happened. Donna took a bite of sandwich and stared absently at the memo before her, reading but not absorbing the words.
"Have you heard from him?" Sam Seaborn leaned against the door casing, hands in his pockets.
"He called after his meeting with Senator Collins."
"And?"
"He said it went fine. He said he was fine."
"But you don't believe him." Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back to rest against the door casing. Without bidding, the images of that morning's incident in the Oval Office came to mind. The memory of his best friend coughing, gagging, gasping for breath pained him. He opened his eyes to see Donna watching him. Sam flashed a weak smile and moved to drop into the visitor's chair beside her desk.
Donna swiveled her chair to face Sam. She dropped her hands into her lap. "He didn't sound fine. He's not himself. This morning."
"What happened this morning?" Sam idly tapped a rhythm on his leg with his fingers.
"What do you mean? You were there. I wasn't."
"He had a flashback, didn't he" It came out more a statement then a question. Sam had been mulling over the thought in his head all morning. He was pretty certain that he'd recognized the outward signs. "It wasn't just the asthma and the bronchitis."
Donna nodded sadly. "He's really hurting and not just physically. I'm afraid of losing him, Sam."
Sam reached over and captured Donna's shaking hand in his own. "We're going to get through this. Do you think we should call Stanley?"
"That may not be a bad idea." Donna turned away from Sam to answer the ringing phone on her desk. "Leo? Aren't you supposed to be having lunch with Josh?"
Sam looked quizzically at the blond assistant, the worried look on her face growing more intense.
"It's light; two conference calls and an appointment with the respiratory therapist. Yes, I can do that." Donna looked up as Josh stormed down the hall, past them without so much as glancing in their direction, and slammed the office door behind him. "Yeah, that was him. Okay. Thank you Leo." Donna hung up the phone and closed her eyes briefly as if gathering strength to continue. She pushed herself to her feet and looked at Sam. "I just may be making that call tonight." Donna stopped at Josh's door, hand on the knob. She turned back to Sam, who sat still in the chair watching her. "We have to get him through this intact." She drew a deep breath and then entered the office, closing the door behind her.
Josh lay on the couch, eyes closed, right hand resting on his chest; his long, slender fingers lightly tracing the scar through the fabric of his shirt. He heard the door of his office open but remained where he was. "Go away Donna. I don't want to talk right now." He heard her hesitate before she sat down on the couch next to his hip. He kept his eyes closed; afraid they would betray the misery and turmoil he felt. "Please." He pleaded, his voice performing the betrayal he'd feared from his eyes.
Donna grasped his hand, stilling his fingers. Josh felt the warmth of her touch spread through his fingers and chest and knew that he was going to loose the tenuous grasp on his composure. Tears slipped from his closed eyes, and as he truly cried for the first time in a very long time, Donna gathered him in her arms and rocked him as if he were a small child.