Residual Scarring 16/?
Author: natlski
Disclaimer: no luck with the custody bid - they still belong to someone
else.
GEORGETOWN - JOSH LYMAN'S APARTMENT LATE TUESDAY AFTERNOON
Rain streamed down the window pane, the stormy spring weather perfectly reflecting Josh's mood. He sat on his couch, glaring at the files Sam had left on the coffee table, offended by their very presence. He rubbed his aching chest before leaning over and sweeping everything off the table. Papers and folders scattered over the floor. Josh sagged back against the couch, breathing hard.
As his breathing and heart rate began to settle, he pushed himself up and stumbled to the kitchen, feeling 100 years old. Opening the refrigerator, he scanned the contents noting the healthy array of fresh groceries purchased the day before by Donna. He reached past the orange juice and milk to retrieve a beer bottle from the back. Leaving the cap on the counter, he returned to the living room and flopped on the couch.
He took a swig of beer, grimacing when the ice-cold liquid hit his raw throat. He struggled to quickly swallow before giving into the urge to cough.
"Shit." He wheezed between coughs. His chest tightened as he continued coughing. When the coughing subsided, he doggedly took another deep swig from the bottle.
GEORGETOWN - JOSH LYMAN'S APARTMENT LATER THAT EVENING
Toby Zeigler knocked on Josh's apartment door a fourth time and was about to reach for his cell phone when he heard the lock turn. The door swung open to reveal Josh's back as he returned to the couch. Toby, surprised by the unconventional and rude greeting, stood still in the doorway.
"If you're not coming in, at least shut the door." Josh grumbled as he dropped onto the couch.
Toby moved slowly into the apartment, closing the door behind him, and stopped in shock at the scene before him. Papers and file folders littered the floor. Three empty beer bottles were lined up in the center of the coffee table. A fourth, half empty, was clutched in Josh's shaking hand.
Toby quickly assessed the situation and leveled a steady gaze at the drunken, younger man. "What are you doing?" His low tone and volume were characteristic of his anger.
Josh shrugged, idly picking at the label on the sweating bottle in his hand. "I was thirsty."
Toby clenched his jaw, biting off an angry retort. Brown eyes lifted briefly to meet his own. The maelstrom of intense emotion reflected there surprised him, yet the only indication he gave of his own emotion was a raising of his eyebrows.
Josh quickly dropped his gaze back to the bottle.
Toby briefly glanced at the files scattered across the floor. "How'd it go with Sam?"
"Just great. He's got a handle on Peterson."
"And 482?"
"Sam's got it all wrapped up." Josh's voice was laced with bitterness.
Toby looked around the room and heaved a sigh. "What's going on, Josh?" He turned his gaze back to Josh, his voice soft.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Josh replied in a strained voice as he continued to pick at the bottle label with his thumbnail.
Toby carefully set his briefcase on the coffee table. "Okay. Let's talk about Gillette and the highway bill."
Josh scowled at the briefcase and then turned to glare at Toby.
Ignoring the glare, Toby pulled a file from his case. "Gillette is still riding the fence. It's time to take the persuasion up a step." He settled back into the chair and began leafing through the files on his lap. "Meet with him Friday morning. All the information you need should be here." He closed the folder and as he held it out toward his colleague he looked up and froze.
Josh sat rigidly on the couch; his face pale and hands shaking. His brown eyes were dark with fear. Toby slowly put the folder on the table between them. Josh followed the movement with his eyes.
"Josh, what's going on?" Toby's question was met with silence. "Josh?"
"Huh?" Josh startled, as if breaking from a trance. "Nothing. Everything I need is there?" He kept his eyes locked on the folder, but made no move to reach for it.
"Josh." Toby spoke softly.
Josh's head snapped up, the fear in his eyes abruptly transmuted to anger. "God, Toby! Can't everyone leave me the hell alone?"
"Because we care about you and right now, you don't; because you walk around with all this guilt, when you have no control over fate. You're not superman, Josh. You think you have to handle everything without flinching. You don't get the fact that you are hurting your friends."
"Get out." Josh whispered, his voice dripping with venom.
"You're drunk and depressed. We missed it in December; we let you down. Never again. I'm not going to let you go through this alone."
"Get out." Josh hissed as he rose shakily to his feet. He would have fallen on his face if not for Toby's quick reactions.
Toby pulled the bottle from Josh's lax grip and set it on the table. He lowered him to the couch. "If you're going to puke, please make sure you get to the bathroom. I don't relish cleaning that up."
Josh's only response was to moan.
"Come on." Toby sighed, grabbing Josh by the arm and hauling him to his feet. Dragging him to the bathroom, he deposited Josh on the floor just in time for him to throw up into the toilet. "Honestly. For a Fulbright scholar, you can be a real idiot sometimes." Toby began cleaning Josh up as he continued speaking. "Are you trying to put yourself back in the hospital? I'm sure that at least one of your medications says not to mix it with alcohol."
"I'm sorry." Josh mumbled as Toby dumped him on his bed and pulled the covers up over him. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, I know. Sleep it off. We'll talk later." Toby patted Josh's head in a surprisingly fatherly manner before turning off the light and leaving the room. He retrieved his cell phone from his coat and dialed his office.
"Ginger, cancel the rest of my day please. No, I'm at Josh's. I'm going to be here a while. Can you transfer me to Donna? No- Wait... Transfer me to Leo instead. Thanks." Toby began picking up the files while he waited for his call to be transferred to the Chief of Staff.
********************************************* GEORGETOWN - JOSH'S APARTMENT EARLY HOURS OF WEDNESDAY MORNING.
Toby looked up as Josh stumbled out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. He put down the file he'd been reading and waited. He could hear Josh banging around in the kitchen; there was a loud clang and some cursing. A few minutes later, Josh emerged and was startled by the sight of Toby seated on the couch.
"What are you doing here?"
"Waiting to finish our conversation. Are you sober yet?"
"No?"
"Good try. Now sit down."
Josh dropped into the chair, acting like a petulant school boy about to receive a dressing down by his father.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Cut the bull shit, Josh. I'm not Donna or Leo or Stanly Keyworth. I'm the one who kept you from smashing your head open on the pavement at Rosslyn, who held my hands over your gushing chest wound until the paramedics arrived."
Both men paled at the reminder of what had happened, but Toby held Josh's gaze a moment before looking away and mumbling, "Besides, I'm just now getting use to you and after going through all that trouble to keep you around I'm not going to just stand idly by and watch you destroy yourself."
Josh swallowed and dropped his gaze. When he spoke, his voice was soft and pleading. "What if I have another attack? What if I loose it in front a congressman?"
"What if you do? God, Josh, you've got walking pneumonia and asthma. Nobody expects you to be back 100 percent."
"Toby, I."
"Everything that you've worked for, everything you've achieved; you're letting it slip away from you. You're letting those ignorant, hate-filled kids win. You're letting a lesser politician get the better of you. You're just going through the motions, your heart isn't in your work, and that's not like you. I'll tell you one thing, Josh; as much as we care about you, we can't drag you along forever. There comes a point where you become a liability. Don't put us in that position. Pull yourself together or resign."
Josh stared at Toby for a minute before turning away. "I already feel like a liability."
Toby softened. "You're not, Josh. You're really not."
Josh turned back to his friend and colleague and searched his face. He sighed, knowing that Toby always spoke from his heart and had never been anything less than honest with him.
"I wish I could believe that."
He laboriously pushed himself up from the chair and shuffled across the room to the window. Pressing his forehead against the cold glass, he closed his eyes. Images with which he was all too familiar played through his mind's eye. He realized for the first time that throughout everything there were five constants; Leo, Sam, Donna, C.J., Toby. Josh heaved a sigh, which brought on painful coughing.
When the coughing passed, Josh turned around to lean back against the window, arms crossed protectively over his aching chest. Facing his friend, he wasn't surprised to meet intense, concern-filled brown eyes evaluating him. He tried to give Toby a small smile; it was not even a shadow of the infamous Lyman smirk.
"I already tried, you know."
Toby cocked his head to the side, a quizzical look crossing his features.
Josh's voice dropped and Toby had to strain to hear. "To resign. Gave Leo a letter and everything." Josh looked away again, suddenly finding the wood grain of the bookcase fascinating and worthy of study. He cleared his throat. "They wouldn't accept it."
Toby scrubbed his hands over his forehead and down over his eyes, silently thanking God for Leo McGarry and Jed Bartlet's stubbornness. "Guess that leaves you with only one option."
Josh shook his head and turned his gaze back to Toby. The gruff speechwriter was at once shocked and saddened by the raw emotion reflected in those deep brown eyes. In a voice muted by physical and emotional pain, Josh spoke what Toby had feared to be true: "I don't think I can."
GEORGETOWN - JOSH LYMAN'S APARTMENT LATE TUESDAY AFTERNOON
Rain streamed down the window pane, the stormy spring weather perfectly reflecting Josh's mood. He sat on his couch, glaring at the files Sam had left on the coffee table, offended by their very presence. He rubbed his aching chest before leaning over and sweeping everything off the table. Papers and folders scattered over the floor. Josh sagged back against the couch, breathing hard.
As his breathing and heart rate began to settle, he pushed himself up and stumbled to the kitchen, feeling 100 years old. Opening the refrigerator, he scanned the contents noting the healthy array of fresh groceries purchased the day before by Donna. He reached past the orange juice and milk to retrieve a beer bottle from the back. Leaving the cap on the counter, he returned to the living room and flopped on the couch.
He took a swig of beer, grimacing when the ice-cold liquid hit his raw throat. He struggled to quickly swallow before giving into the urge to cough.
"Shit." He wheezed between coughs. His chest tightened as he continued coughing. When the coughing subsided, he doggedly took another deep swig from the bottle.
GEORGETOWN - JOSH LYMAN'S APARTMENT LATER THAT EVENING
Toby Zeigler knocked on Josh's apartment door a fourth time and was about to reach for his cell phone when he heard the lock turn. The door swung open to reveal Josh's back as he returned to the couch. Toby, surprised by the unconventional and rude greeting, stood still in the doorway.
"If you're not coming in, at least shut the door." Josh grumbled as he dropped onto the couch.
Toby moved slowly into the apartment, closing the door behind him, and stopped in shock at the scene before him. Papers and file folders littered the floor. Three empty beer bottles were lined up in the center of the coffee table. A fourth, half empty, was clutched in Josh's shaking hand.
Toby quickly assessed the situation and leveled a steady gaze at the drunken, younger man. "What are you doing?" His low tone and volume were characteristic of his anger.
Josh shrugged, idly picking at the label on the sweating bottle in his hand. "I was thirsty."
Toby clenched his jaw, biting off an angry retort. Brown eyes lifted briefly to meet his own. The maelstrom of intense emotion reflected there surprised him, yet the only indication he gave of his own emotion was a raising of his eyebrows.
Josh quickly dropped his gaze back to the bottle.
Toby briefly glanced at the files scattered across the floor. "How'd it go with Sam?"
"Just great. He's got a handle on Peterson."
"And 482?"
"Sam's got it all wrapped up." Josh's voice was laced with bitterness.
Toby looked around the room and heaved a sigh. "What's going on, Josh?" He turned his gaze back to Josh, his voice soft.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Josh replied in a strained voice as he continued to pick at the bottle label with his thumbnail.
Toby carefully set his briefcase on the coffee table. "Okay. Let's talk about Gillette and the highway bill."
Josh scowled at the briefcase and then turned to glare at Toby.
Ignoring the glare, Toby pulled a file from his case. "Gillette is still riding the fence. It's time to take the persuasion up a step." He settled back into the chair and began leafing through the files on his lap. "Meet with him Friday morning. All the information you need should be here." He closed the folder and as he held it out toward his colleague he looked up and froze.
Josh sat rigidly on the couch; his face pale and hands shaking. His brown eyes were dark with fear. Toby slowly put the folder on the table between them. Josh followed the movement with his eyes.
"Josh, what's going on?" Toby's question was met with silence. "Josh?"
"Huh?" Josh startled, as if breaking from a trance. "Nothing. Everything I need is there?" He kept his eyes locked on the folder, but made no move to reach for it.
"Josh." Toby spoke softly.
Josh's head snapped up, the fear in his eyes abruptly transmuted to anger. "God, Toby! Can't everyone leave me the hell alone?"
"Because we care about you and right now, you don't; because you walk around with all this guilt, when you have no control over fate. You're not superman, Josh. You think you have to handle everything without flinching. You don't get the fact that you are hurting your friends."
"Get out." Josh whispered, his voice dripping with venom.
"You're drunk and depressed. We missed it in December; we let you down. Never again. I'm not going to let you go through this alone."
"Get out." Josh hissed as he rose shakily to his feet. He would have fallen on his face if not for Toby's quick reactions.
Toby pulled the bottle from Josh's lax grip and set it on the table. He lowered him to the couch. "If you're going to puke, please make sure you get to the bathroom. I don't relish cleaning that up."
Josh's only response was to moan.
"Come on." Toby sighed, grabbing Josh by the arm and hauling him to his feet. Dragging him to the bathroom, he deposited Josh on the floor just in time for him to throw up into the toilet. "Honestly. For a Fulbright scholar, you can be a real idiot sometimes." Toby began cleaning Josh up as he continued speaking. "Are you trying to put yourself back in the hospital? I'm sure that at least one of your medications says not to mix it with alcohol."
"I'm sorry." Josh mumbled as Toby dumped him on his bed and pulled the covers up over him. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, I know. Sleep it off. We'll talk later." Toby patted Josh's head in a surprisingly fatherly manner before turning off the light and leaving the room. He retrieved his cell phone from his coat and dialed his office.
"Ginger, cancel the rest of my day please. No, I'm at Josh's. I'm going to be here a while. Can you transfer me to Donna? No- Wait... Transfer me to Leo instead. Thanks." Toby began picking up the files while he waited for his call to be transferred to the Chief of Staff.
********************************************* GEORGETOWN - JOSH'S APARTMENT EARLY HOURS OF WEDNESDAY MORNING.
Toby looked up as Josh stumbled out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. He put down the file he'd been reading and waited. He could hear Josh banging around in the kitchen; there was a loud clang and some cursing. A few minutes later, Josh emerged and was startled by the sight of Toby seated on the couch.
"What are you doing here?"
"Waiting to finish our conversation. Are you sober yet?"
"No?"
"Good try. Now sit down."
Josh dropped into the chair, acting like a petulant school boy about to receive a dressing down by his father.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Cut the bull shit, Josh. I'm not Donna or Leo or Stanly Keyworth. I'm the one who kept you from smashing your head open on the pavement at Rosslyn, who held my hands over your gushing chest wound until the paramedics arrived."
Both men paled at the reminder of what had happened, but Toby held Josh's gaze a moment before looking away and mumbling, "Besides, I'm just now getting use to you and after going through all that trouble to keep you around I'm not going to just stand idly by and watch you destroy yourself."
Josh swallowed and dropped his gaze. When he spoke, his voice was soft and pleading. "What if I have another attack? What if I loose it in front a congressman?"
"What if you do? God, Josh, you've got walking pneumonia and asthma. Nobody expects you to be back 100 percent."
"Toby, I."
"Everything that you've worked for, everything you've achieved; you're letting it slip away from you. You're letting those ignorant, hate-filled kids win. You're letting a lesser politician get the better of you. You're just going through the motions, your heart isn't in your work, and that's not like you. I'll tell you one thing, Josh; as much as we care about you, we can't drag you along forever. There comes a point where you become a liability. Don't put us in that position. Pull yourself together or resign."
Josh stared at Toby for a minute before turning away. "I already feel like a liability."
Toby softened. "You're not, Josh. You're really not."
Josh turned back to his friend and colleague and searched his face. He sighed, knowing that Toby always spoke from his heart and had never been anything less than honest with him.
"I wish I could believe that."
He laboriously pushed himself up from the chair and shuffled across the room to the window. Pressing his forehead against the cold glass, he closed his eyes. Images with which he was all too familiar played through his mind's eye. He realized for the first time that throughout everything there were five constants; Leo, Sam, Donna, C.J., Toby. Josh heaved a sigh, which brought on painful coughing.
When the coughing passed, Josh turned around to lean back against the window, arms crossed protectively over his aching chest. Facing his friend, he wasn't surprised to meet intense, concern-filled brown eyes evaluating him. He tried to give Toby a small smile; it was not even a shadow of the infamous Lyman smirk.
"I already tried, you know."
Toby cocked his head to the side, a quizzical look crossing his features.
Josh's voice dropped and Toby had to strain to hear. "To resign. Gave Leo a letter and everything." Josh looked away again, suddenly finding the wood grain of the bookcase fascinating and worthy of study. He cleared his throat. "They wouldn't accept it."
Toby scrubbed his hands over his forehead and down over his eyes, silently thanking God for Leo McGarry and Jed Bartlet's stubbornness. "Guess that leaves you with only one option."
Josh shook his head and turned his gaze back to Toby. The gruff speechwriter was at once shocked and saddened by the raw emotion reflected in those deep brown eyes. In a voice muted by physical and emotional pain, Josh spoke what Toby had feared to be true: "I don't think I can."