Residual Scarring 18/18
Author: natlski
Disclaimer: No news on the custody request. Although I think at this point
I should have a decent chance.
Spoilers: Everything through Manchester parts I & II, and a small one for
Debate Camp
Feedback is craved and always appreciated
Archived: fanfiction.net; if someone puts it anywhere else, kindly let me
know.
Author's Note: Boku thanks to Classic She, an amazingly talented beta!
Previously: "Where's my file on the tobacco suit?" Josh asked with a gravely voice. "The one Leo told you to put away?" "Yeah. Where is it?" "I put it away." "Donna." Josh's tone was half whine, half warning. "Leo said." "I know what Leo said." Josh cut her off, pulled a tired hand over his eyes, then fixed his gaze on his assistant. "Just get me the file." "Everyone has told you this isn't the time. Leo said to put it away." "Jimminy Cricket, the file."
Residual Scarring 18 WHITE HOUSE- OFFICE OF THE DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF THURSDAY MORNING
Slowly replacing the receiver to the cradle, Josh sat back. He carefully placed the paper into its folder and sat staring at the closed file. The feeling of glee he normally got from playing the political game didn't materialize. His heart beat the staccato rhythm of anxiety and he drew a deep breath in attempt to quell the panic rising in his chest.
As Josh reached for the file a knock and the opening door startled him. He knocked over the water bottle on his desk and swore.
"Jesus, Donna! Are you trying to send me to an early grave?" Josh groused as he hastily shoved the file under a stack of folders.
"I knocked." Donna spoke warily, eyeing her boss with concern. "Do you have a minute for C.J.?" She looked down at her notepad.
"C.J.?" Josh's breath caught in his throat, causing the name to come out a squeak.
Donna looked up to see his stricken look. "What did you do?"
"What?" He held her gaze briefly before looking away and shuffling the folders on his desk. "Nothing. Do you know what she wants?"
"Wait," Donna looked up at the ceiling. "Darn, my esp isn't working today."
"Donna."
"Must be poor atmospheric conditions. Maybe the radiation from the missile silos under the White House."
"Donna."
She handed him a file. "You have Senior Staff in 10 minutes. I'll send C.J. in."
"Yeah." Josh breathed out the word. The panic that had been dispelled by the banter returned in full force and he squinted against the blossoming head ache. He reminded himself that it was too soon. He shuffled papers, trying to look busy.
C.J. quietly closed the door behind her and settled into a visitor's chair. She watched Josh aimlessly moving papers in the pretence of doing work. "Hey, Wheezy."
"I really am over that, you know."
"How are you doing?"
Josh sighed and stilled his hands. "So we're back to this are we?"
"I talked to Leo."
"It got away from you. You screwed up. I screw up on a regular basis and you don't see me." Josh trailed off as C.J. leveled him with a steely gaze.
"I don't see you what?"
He dropped his gaze. "I just don't think." Josh pulled papers together and looked at his watch. He pushed back from his desk and stood. "We have Senior Staff." He paused at the door when C.J. didn't move.
"C.J." Josh's voice was plaintive.
She looked up and met his brown eyes, trying to read the emotions playing through them. C.J. looked down at her slender hands clasped tightly on top of the notebook in her lap. She briefly wondered when they had turned into these people. "Yeah."
She pushed herself up and the two walked to their meeting in a troubled silence.
WHITE HOUSE WEST WING- OFFICE OF DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF SOMETIME LATER
"Pennsylvania. Ohio. Michigan. Three swing states you could have brought over with that. That's an election."
Bruno's words echoed in Josh's head as he sat with a sinking heart. He groaned as the ramifications of his actions came to full light in his mind. Panic and dread gripped him as his imagination played through the hypotheticals of the up-coming months.
Josh scrubbed his hands over his face before dropping them lifelessly into his lap and sagging back in his chair. It amazed him how quickly the ground he'd gained slipped away from him.
"That's an election."
Josh let out a long breath, then slowly sat up. He gingerly picked up his pen and began reading one of the myriad reports on his desk.
MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE ROUGHLY TWO WEEKS LATER
The eve of The Announcement had arrived. They had spent hours rehashing the speech at the Bartlet Farm. Sam, Toby and Doug had long since stopped arguing and were simply exchanging glares. The President had declared the speech locked, despite the balking of the three writers. C.J. was brooding and Josh kept bring up the FDA, like a dog worrying a bone. Around midnight Leo took pity on the workers at the bar and grill and sent the campaign staff back to the hotel with strict orders to get some sleep.
It had actually been weeks since Josh had been able to sleep; his nights were spent in restless tossing and turning as the events of recent months played across the silver screen of his mind. By morning he usually passed out from exhaustion on the couch in his apartment, after hours of pacing.
The quaint New England hotel room left no space for pacing and 1:30 A.M. found Josh Lyman slumped in the wing-back chair. The bed sheets were rumbled, evidence of his futile attempt to sleep.
His arms lay limp against his body and his posture was not unlike that of a worn teddy bear with too little stuffing. He had become accustomed to the ache in his muscles; his arm, back, entire side, constantly stiff and sore. Josh tried to blame his sleeplessness on his body, but knew it was more the fault of his mind.
Josh closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. He added the slight tightness of his chest to the list of physical ailments and discomfort that was a continuous piece of his life. As had taken place so many nights before, the questions and debate began in his mind; and, as before, the voices were not all his.
"Why aren't you dead?" Stanley asked in his Georgetown office.
"How did that bullet not kill you?" Leo's voice carried through the phone.
"I don't think PTSD is something they let you have when you work for the President." The desperation in his voice was painful to him.
"I can fix this, why won't they let me?" He asked the empty room. "Just one phone call and it's taken care of; just one phone call."
It was in this disheveled physical and mental state that Donna found him hours later.
"Why aren't you dressed? You've got to shower and shave." She began to bustle around the room, pulling clothes from his drawers.
Josh grumbled at her, "Yeah, no question about it, most voters are pro- choice, but the ones that aren't are going to devote their lives and their money to beating you.'Guns don't kill people; Bartlet does.' It's going to look like we screwed up the timing so the press is going to write about process and not about issues, and getting political reporters to write about issues in the first place is like getting kids to eat their vegetables."
"You've got to get in the shower." Donna instructed, trying to get his attention.
"Don't you want to know how it's like getting kids to eat their vegetables? It helps if there's nothing else on their plate." Josh stiffly stood and moved toward the bathroom.
"You couldn't sleep?"
"I know I could stop this thing! One phone call! The President's not even involved! 'Could you do us a favor, could you hold off two weeks? We love your drug but we don't want it folded into our news cycle!'" Josh's voice rose, pleading. His shoulders were hunched with tension and he held his hands out in front of him. "I could have picked up the phone, I could have picked...." He turned from her and slammed his open hand against the bathroom door frame and yelled, "God!"
Josh stopped; his chest heaving, the fight and energy draining from him. Donna's face fell, her earlier frustration replaced by grave concern.
"What's this about?" She asked, already knowing and fearing the answer.
If it was at all possible, Josh deflated even more. His shoulders dropped and his breath escaped in a shaky sigh. His gaze focused some where around his assistant's feet, unable to take the concern in her eyes. "I blew the tobacco thing. That could have helped us, and I was....This is going to be a very close election. I gotta take a shower." He turned and stumbled into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Josh stood in the shower, the hot water cascading over his aching body, relieving some of the tension from his muscles. His voice echoed painfully in his ears.
"I blew the tobacco thing. I blew the tobacco thing.I blew it. I blew it."
"I should have resigned. I should have gone through with it." He murmured. Hot water run over his face, pushing his eye's closed. "I let my self be talked out of my decision, against my better judgment. I'm this campaign's greatest liability. The MS was making things hard enough without my help. I screwed up."
He heaved a sigh and turned off the water. Josh toweled off, his movements slow. He felt strangely detached from everything. He wrapped the towel around his slender hips and stood before the large mirror, evaluating his visage. He shuddered at the image of his pale skin and haggard features. His fingers carefully traced the scars that bisected his chest and he felt his breath hitch involuntarily.
Josh ran shaky fingers through his wild hair, smoothing down the wet locks. He heaved another sigh and opened the bathroom door. He gasped in shock as the cooler air of the bedroom hit his steam dampened skin. The sound of a clearing throat caused his head to snap up, "Donna!" Josh's voice squeaked. His hand clutched at the towel at his waist to ensure it stayed in place.
Donna Moss sat perched on the edge of the bed. While Josh had been in the shower, she had tidied the room, putting away papers and files, and smoothing the sheets. She now sat with hands clasped nervously in her lap. She cleared her throat again and held out a neatly folded undershirt and pair of clean boxers. Donna kept her eyes averted to the side.
Josh wondered if it was from some misguided sense of modesty, after all, there was little she had not seen when she was helping during his recovery. Perhaps she couldn't bear to look at him, so shamed by his failure. "Thanks." He spoke softly, finger tips brushing her hand as he took the clothes. He studied her face for a moment, then returned to the bathroom.
When he emerged, she was still sitting on the bed. Josh again ran his fingers through his hair before sinking down beside her.
"Donna." His voice cracked.
"Josh, you've got to let this go. You've got to get past this."
He drew a shaky breath then slowly let it go. "This wasn't some silly press slip-up that my friends will mock me for. I'm not an amateur. This was a huge political blunder." He motioned aimlessly and she caught his right hand.
Holding his hand, palm up, Donna gently traced the now light scare that traversed his palm. A shudder ran through him and she covered his hand with her own, entwining their fingers.
"Let it go Josh, stop doubting yourself. No one is holding a grudge about tobacco. No one but you. You blew it. It's time to move on."
"It's going to be a close election. We're going to have to fight hard and play smart." Josh's voice was barely audible and he stared at their clasped hands in amazement.
"You've always loved a challenge."
Josh chuckled, and gave a small shake of his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded strangled. "I don't know if."
"Josh." Donna's voice was firm, cutting him off. "Everyone has fought hard for you. But we can't keep doing this. There is so much that we are trying to overcome. The MS, Mrs. Landingham," She paused and squeezed his hand and her voice softened. "Rosslyn. We can't keep playing this game." She stood and turned to face him. Josh held onto her hand, and air of desperation hung around him.
"Know and remember this, Joshua Lyman." Donna squeezed his hand again, but he kept his gaze downcast. "You are a valuable person. You have many people who care deeply for you and have your back. And it has nothing to do with your political prowess."
Donna pulled him to his feet and he was forced to meet her gaze. The emotional pain in his brown eyes was startling, but Donna gave him a countering smile, communicating her confidence in him.
Josh managed a small smirk, one eyebrow arching, "My 'political prowess'?"
"Get dressed. You're going to be late." She gave his hand one last squeeze, then headed for the door.
Josh suddenly felt bereft and balled his hand into a fist to keep from reaching out for her again. Donna was already across the room and had the door open. "I'll tell Leo you'll be down in 5 minutes.
The door clicked shut. Josh dressed, his movements mechanical as his brain processed everything that had just happened.
MANCHESTER, NH- BAR AND GRILL LATE THAT EVENING
"It was a good event today." C.J. leaned back in her chair next to Josh, their shoulders touching. The others were gathered around the pool table watching Charlie hustle Toby one last time before they boarded Air Force One for their return to Washington.
"Yeah." Josh continued picking at the label on his beer bottle.
"It'll be different this time." She felt her friend stiffen and she quickly shook her head. "I mean we're in office, but campaigning at the same time. It'll be different."
"Yeah." His answer could barely be heard above the noise of the bar.
"Josh." C.J. glanced sideways at the brooding man.
He shook his head. "Don't." Josh took a swig of his beer, grimacing as he swallowed. "It occurs to me that I've been spending a lot of time and energy on the wrong things."
"You've been trying too hard to prove yourself." C.J. spoke softly, bumping Josh's leg with her knee. "You don't have to prove anything. Josh. We know you can do your job. We know you're good at your job, of which you typically remind us at frequent intervals."
A corner of Josh's mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. He looked across the room to where the assistants sat laughing. C.J. followed his gaze.
Donna laughed at something Margaret said. The young woman's face lit up with the joy of friendship. Her blonde hair cascaded around her slim shoulders. Her beauty was not dimmed by the shadows of the bar.
C.J. shifted her gaze back to Josh, but his eyes remained focused on the young blonde. "I realized something today."
"Josh." C.J.'s tone held a warning.
"God, C.J." He turned his gaze back to the Press Secretary. "I've made things hard enough already. Do you really think I'm stupid enough to."
"I think you are exactly that stupid." She cut him off.
He turned to watch the assistants again. "Thanks for that vote of confidence." He was silent for a moment before picking up his previous train of thought. "No matter how bad things get, no matter how badly I screw up."
C.J. grinned. "Yeah."
"I made a decision."
C.J. rested a hand on his leg. "You're back?"
"I'm back." Josh grasped C.J.'s hand.
Donna and Carol suddenly appeared in front of their bosses. "Wheels up in an hour. We'd better get going."
C.J. stood and pulled Josh to his feet. "Let's go, Mi Amore. We've got a plane to catch."
The End
Previously: "Where's my file on the tobacco suit?" Josh asked with a gravely voice. "The one Leo told you to put away?" "Yeah. Where is it?" "I put it away." "Donna." Josh's tone was half whine, half warning. "Leo said." "I know what Leo said." Josh cut her off, pulled a tired hand over his eyes, then fixed his gaze on his assistant. "Just get me the file." "Everyone has told you this isn't the time. Leo said to put it away." "Jimminy Cricket, the file."
Residual Scarring 18 WHITE HOUSE- OFFICE OF THE DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF THURSDAY MORNING
Slowly replacing the receiver to the cradle, Josh sat back. He carefully placed the paper into its folder and sat staring at the closed file. The feeling of glee he normally got from playing the political game didn't materialize. His heart beat the staccato rhythm of anxiety and he drew a deep breath in attempt to quell the panic rising in his chest.
As Josh reached for the file a knock and the opening door startled him. He knocked over the water bottle on his desk and swore.
"Jesus, Donna! Are you trying to send me to an early grave?" Josh groused as he hastily shoved the file under a stack of folders.
"I knocked." Donna spoke warily, eyeing her boss with concern. "Do you have a minute for C.J.?" She looked down at her notepad.
"C.J.?" Josh's breath caught in his throat, causing the name to come out a squeak.
Donna looked up to see his stricken look. "What did you do?"
"What?" He held her gaze briefly before looking away and shuffling the folders on his desk. "Nothing. Do you know what she wants?"
"Wait," Donna looked up at the ceiling. "Darn, my esp isn't working today."
"Donna."
"Must be poor atmospheric conditions. Maybe the radiation from the missile silos under the White House."
"Donna."
She handed him a file. "You have Senior Staff in 10 minutes. I'll send C.J. in."
"Yeah." Josh breathed out the word. The panic that had been dispelled by the banter returned in full force and he squinted against the blossoming head ache. He reminded himself that it was too soon. He shuffled papers, trying to look busy.
C.J. quietly closed the door behind her and settled into a visitor's chair. She watched Josh aimlessly moving papers in the pretence of doing work. "Hey, Wheezy."
"I really am over that, you know."
"How are you doing?"
Josh sighed and stilled his hands. "So we're back to this are we?"
"I talked to Leo."
"It got away from you. You screwed up. I screw up on a regular basis and you don't see me." Josh trailed off as C.J. leveled him with a steely gaze.
"I don't see you what?"
He dropped his gaze. "I just don't think." Josh pulled papers together and looked at his watch. He pushed back from his desk and stood. "We have Senior Staff." He paused at the door when C.J. didn't move.
"C.J." Josh's voice was plaintive.
She looked up and met his brown eyes, trying to read the emotions playing through them. C.J. looked down at her slender hands clasped tightly on top of the notebook in her lap. She briefly wondered when they had turned into these people. "Yeah."
She pushed herself up and the two walked to their meeting in a troubled silence.
WHITE HOUSE WEST WING- OFFICE OF DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF SOMETIME LATER
"Pennsylvania. Ohio. Michigan. Three swing states you could have brought over with that. That's an election."
Bruno's words echoed in Josh's head as he sat with a sinking heart. He groaned as the ramifications of his actions came to full light in his mind. Panic and dread gripped him as his imagination played through the hypotheticals of the up-coming months.
Josh scrubbed his hands over his face before dropping them lifelessly into his lap and sagging back in his chair. It amazed him how quickly the ground he'd gained slipped away from him.
"That's an election."
Josh let out a long breath, then slowly sat up. He gingerly picked up his pen and began reading one of the myriad reports on his desk.
MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE ROUGHLY TWO WEEKS LATER
The eve of The Announcement had arrived. They had spent hours rehashing the speech at the Bartlet Farm. Sam, Toby and Doug had long since stopped arguing and were simply exchanging glares. The President had declared the speech locked, despite the balking of the three writers. C.J. was brooding and Josh kept bring up the FDA, like a dog worrying a bone. Around midnight Leo took pity on the workers at the bar and grill and sent the campaign staff back to the hotel with strict orders to get some sleep.
It had actually been weeks since Josh had been able to sleep; his nights were spent in restless tossing and turning as the events of recent months played across the silver screen of his mind. By morning he usually passed out from exhaustion on the couch in his apartment, after hours of pacing.
The quaint New England hotel room left no space for pacing and 1:30 A.M. found Josh Lyman slumped in the wing-back chair. The bed sheets were rumbled, evidence of his futile attempt to sleep.
His arms lay limp against his body and his posture was not unlike that of a worn teddy bear with too little stuffing. He had become accustomed to the ache in his muscles; his arm, back, entire side, constantly stiff and sore. Josh tried to blame his sleeplessness on his body, but knew it was more the fault of his mind.
Josh closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. He added the slight tightness of his chest to the list of physical ailments and discomfort that was a continuous piece of his life. As had taken place so many nights before, the questions and debate began in his mind; and, as before, the voices were not all his.
"Why aren't you dead?" Stanley asked in his Georgetown office.
"How did that bullet not kill you?" Leo's voice carried through the phone.
"I don't think PTSD is something they let you have when you work for the President." The desperation in his voice was painful to him.
"I can fix this, why won't they let me?" He asked the empty room. "Just one phone call and it's taken care of; just one phone call."
It was in this disheveled physical and mental state that Donna found him hours later.
"Why aren't you dressed? You've got to shower and shave." She began to bustle around the room, pulling clothes from his drawers.
Josh grumbled at her, "Yeah, no question about it, most voters are pro- choice, but the ones that aren't are going to devote their lives and their money to beating you.'Guns don't kill people; Bartlet does.' It's going to look like we screwed up the timing so the press is going to write about process and not about issues, and getting political reporters to write about issues in the first place is like getting kids to eat their vegetables."
"You've got to get in the shower." Donna instructed, trying to get his attention.
"Don't you want to know how it's like getting kids to eat their vegetables? It helps if there's nothing else on their plate." Josh stiffly stood and moved toward the bathroom.
"You couldn't sleep?"
"I know I could stop this thing! One phone call! The President's not even involved! 'Could you do us a favor, could you hold off two weeks? We love your drug but we don't want it folded into our news cycle!'" Josh's voice rose, pleading. His shoulders were hunched with tension and he held his hands out in front of him. "I could have picked up the phone, I could have picked...." He turned from her and slammed his open hand against the bathroom door frame and yelled, "God!"
Josh stopped; his chest heaving, the fight and energy draining from him. Donna's face fell, her earlier frustration replaced by grave concern.
"What's this about?" She asked, already knowing and fearing the answer.
If it was at all possible, Josh deflated even more. His shoulders dropped and his breath escaped in a shaky sigh. His gaze focused some where around his assistant's feet, unable to take the concern in her eyes. "I blew the tobacco thing. That could have helped us, and I was....This is going to be a very close election. I gotta take a shower." He turned and stumbled into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Josh stood in the shower, the hot water cascading over his aching body, relieving some of the tension from his muscles. His voice echoed painfully in his ears.
"I blew the tobacco thing. I blew the tobacco thing.I blew it. I blew it."
"I should have resigned. I should have gone through with it." He murmured. Hot water run over his face, pushing his eye's closed. "I let my self be talked out of my decision, against my better judgment. I'm this campaign's greatest liability. The MS was making things hard enough without my help. I screwed up."
He heaved a sigh and turned off the water. Josh toweled off, his movements slow. He felt strangely detached from everything. He wrapped the towel around his slender hips and stood before the large mirror, evaluating his visage. He shuddered at the image of his pale skin and haggard features. His fingers carefully traced the scars that bisected his chest and he felt his breath hitch involuntarily.
Josh ran shaky fingers through his wild hair, smoothing down the wet locks. He heaved another sigh and opened the bathroom door. He gasped in shock as the cooler air of the bedroom hit his steam dampened skin. The sound of a clearing throat caused his head to snap up, "Donna!" Josh's voice squeaked. His hand clutched at the towel at his waist to ensure it stayed in place.
Donna Moss sat perched on the edge of the bed. While Josh had been in the shower, she had tidied the room, putting away papers and files, and smoothing the sheets. She now sat with hands clasped nervously in her lap. She cleared her throat again and held out a neatly folded undershirt and pair of clean boxers. Donna kept her eyes averted to the side.
Josh wondered if it was from some misguided sense of modesty, after all, there was little she had not seen when she was helping during his recovery. Perhaps she couldn't bear to look at him, so shamed by his failure. "Thanks." He spoke softly, finger tips brushing her hand as he took the clothes. He studied her face for a moment, then returned to the bathroom.
When he emerged, she was still sitting on the bed. Josh again ran his fingers through his hair before sinking down beside her.
"Donna." His voice cracked.
"Josh, you've got to let this go. You've got to get past this."
He drew a shaky breath then slowly let it go. "This wasn't some silly press slip-up that my friends will mock me for. I'm not an amateur. This was a huge political blunder." He motioned aimlessly and she caught his right hand.
Holding his hand, palm up, Donna gently traced the now light scare that traversed his palm. A shudder ran through him and she covered his hand with her own, entwining their fingers.
"Let it go Josh, stop doubting yourself. No one is holding a grudge about tobacco. No one but you. You blew it. It's time to move on."
"It's going to be a close election. We're going to have to fight hard and play smart." Josh's voice was barely audible and he stared at their clasped hands in amazement.
"You've always loved a challenge."
Josh chuckled, and gave a small shake of his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded strangled. "I don't know if."
"Josh." Donna's voice was firm, cutting him off. "Everyone has fought hard for you. But we can't keep doing this. There is so much that we are trying to overcome. The MS, Mrs. Landingham," She paused and squeezed his hand and her voice softened. "Rosslyn. We can't keep playing this game." She stood and turned to face him. Josh held onto her hand, and air of desperation hung around him.
"Know and remember this, Joshua Lyman." Donna squeezed his hand again, but he kept his gaze downcast. "You are a valuable person. You have many people who care deeply for you and have your back. And it has nothing to do with your political prowess."
Donna pulled him to his feet and he was forced to meet her gaze. The emotional pain in his brown eyes was startling, but Donna gave him a countering smile, communicating her confidence in him.
Josh managed a small smirk, one eyebrow arching, "My 'political prowess'?"
"Get dressed. You're going to be late." She gave his hand one last squeeze, then headed for the door.
Josh suddenly felt bereft and balled his hand into a fist to keep from reaching out for her again. Donna was already across the room and had the door open. "I'll tell Leo you'll be down in 5 minutes.
The door clicked shut. Josh dressed, his movements mechanical as his brain processed everything that had just happened.
MANCHESTER, NH- BAR AND GRILL LATE THAT EVENING
"It was a good event today." C.J. leaned back in her chair next to Josh, their shoulders touching. The others were gathered around the pool table watching Charlie hustle Toby one last time before they boarded Air Force One for their return to Washington.
"Yeah." Josh continued picking at the label on his beer bottle.
"It'll be different this time." She felt her friend stiffen and she quickly shook her head. "I mean we're in office, but campaigning at the same time. It'll be different."
"Yeah." His answer could barely be heard above the noise of the bar.
"Josh." C.J. glanced sideways at the brooding man.
He shook his head. "Don't." Josh took a swig of his beer, grimacing as he swallowed. "It occurs to me that I've been spending a lot of time and energy on the wrong things."
"You've been trying too hard to prove yourself." C.J. spoke softly, bumping Josh's leg with her knee. "You don't have to prove anything. Josh. We know you can do your job. We know you're good at your job, of which you typically remind us at frequent intervals."
A corner of Josh's mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. He looked across the room to where the assistants sat laughing. C.J. followed his gaze.
Donna laughed at something Margaret said. The young woman's face lit up with the joy of friendship. Her blonde hair cascaded around her slim shoulders. Her beauty was not dimmed by the shadows of the bar.
C.J. shifted her gaze back to Josh, but his eyes remained focused on the young blonde. "I realized something today."
"Josh." C.J.'s tone held a warning.
"God, C.J." He turned his gaze back to the Press Secretary. "I've made things hard enough already. Do you really think I'm stupid enough to."
"I think you are exactly that stupid." She cut him off.
He turned to watch the assistants again. "Thanks for that vote of confidence." He was silent for a moment before picking up his previous train of thought. "No matter how bad things get, no matter how badly I screw up."
C.J. grinned. "Yeah."
"I made a decision."
C.J. rested a hand on his leg. "You're back?"
"I'm back." Josh grasped C.J.'s hand.
Donna and Carol suddenly appeared in front of their bosses. "Wheels up in an hour. We'd better get going."
C.J. stood and pulled Josh to his feet. "Let's go, Mi Amore. We've got a plane to catch."
The End