Title: Defending Virtue 2/3

Author: natlski

Rating: PG

Spoilers:  Lots of little things here and there, some fairly obvious ones for the Rosslyn story line.  This could take place at any point mid series.

Characters:  Josh, Sam, Donna, and a couple of original characters. Some C.J.  Toby, Leo, Jed, and Charlie make a brief appearance.

Pairings:  A smidge of J/D; depends on how badly you want it, but really just friendship

Disclaimer:  not mine, no matter how hard I wish.  I do, however, get to claim ownership of Calvin Randall, Captain Morris, and Detectives Ross Slater and Chris Noland.

Summary:  Josh Lyman's last thought as the room faded to black, was that there were worse things than dying for Donnatella Moss.

Author's note:  Feedback is the nectar of the gods. As always, scores of thanks to Classic She for her time, encouragement, and amazing beta talents.

GEORGETOWN STATION BAR AND GRILL

9:00 P.M.

Josh Lyman settled against the wall of the booth.  His exhaustion was still present, but held at bay by a desire to relax with good friends.  His mind drifted back to his last meeting.  He liked Matt Skinner, and they had been friends for a long time, but tonight's meeting had been nothing but frustration.  They had gone 10 rounds on a bill that had no hope of passing.  Neither men could agree with the other nor make the other see their point.  Josh had finally called an end to the meeting. Nothing had been resolved.  He pushed his frustration with the governmental machine aside and smiled to himself as he listened to Sam and Donna debate the wisdom of the White House and Congress being exempt from workplace related laws.  How far they had all come; especially the young college drop-out who had essentially hired herself as his assistant. 

"It's ridiculous, Sam."

Josh snorted.  "Strong, witty come back, there, Donna."

"Shut up, Mr. 'I make the law.  I am the law.'  I didn't hear you jumping in with any witty repartee."  She punched him on the arm.

"Oww!"  He rubbed his upper arm and scowled at his assistant.

Sam made no effort to hide his amusement at their interaction.  "You weren't even listening."

"I was too."  Josh all but pouted.

"I'm going to the restroom.  I'll be right back."  Donna collected her purse and slid out of the booth.

She weaved her way through the tables to the restrooms, a short distance from their booth.  Her passage caught the attention of several of the patrons, who followed her progress past their tables.

Cal Randall sat nursing his last beer and brooding.  He knew it was his last beer because as he'd ordered it the bar tender had informed him, "No more."  That was something that strongly attracted him to this bar, which he frequented.  The bar tenders were not afraid to cut him off, to tell him when he'd had enough, and then call a cab for him when he couldn't remember his address.  Most nights found Cal at the bar until nearly closing time.  He saw no point in being home.  Sleep never came unless aided by alcohol and most nights, alcohol succeeded in keeping the nightmares in check.

Unfortunately alcohol did nothing to improve his temper, and prevented him from hanging onto a decent job for very long.  'We're sorry, sir.  You are certainly qualified, however, based on your record and the recommendations we received, we cannot, in good conscience hire you.  We'd like to give you a chance, really, but it's just a risk we can't afford to take.'

This afternoon's interview had been no different.  Cal could no longer count the number of times he'd heard some variation on the same rejection.  Five years out of the service.  Five years of nightmares, flashbacks, and drunken-stupor trying to wash away the images from his mind.  Five years of loneliness.  A medical discharge, accompanied by a diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder had outlined the course his life would take.  When his drinking and violent temper increased concurrently with the night terrors and panic attacks, Lynn and the boys had walked out of his life forever.

Cal glanced up as a women glided past his table.  The bar had been full when he arrived in the late afternoon and he had settled at a small table in the back, not too far from the bathrooms.   His eyes followed the young blonde, moving down her body to admire her slim figure.  She was wearing a tastefully tailored skirt and blouse, designed to be professional, yet accentuate her feminine figure.  The line of her legs was complemented by modest high heeled shoes.  There was an air of elegance about the young woman and she carried herself with confidence.  Cal felt a stirring in his gut, and couldn't believe he hadn't noticed this beautiful woman before.  He watched her enter the bathroom, not two feet from his table and took another swig of his beer.

Ross Slater watched the beautiful young blonde slip past their table.  "Did you see her?"  He asked Chris as he self-consciously smoothed down his brown curls and tugged at his loosened tie. 

Chris chuckled.  "Yeah, I also saw the two guys she's with."  He motioned subtly toward a nearby booth where two men sat engrossed in conversation. 

Ross observed the men.  The younger of the two, despite the loosened tie and rolled up sleeves, looked as if he'd just stepped from the pages of GQ magazine.  Every dark hair was in place and he sat with his back straight against the booth, the image of good posture.  The other man looked less put together.  He was slumped against the wall.  His wavy brown hair was unruly, as if the man was constantly running his hands through it.  As if to prove Ross's observation correct, the man paused in his gesturing and did just that.  His tie was askew and shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.  His visage was the antithesis of his companion; rumpled and looking like he'd slept in his suit, for several nights.

"Politicians."  Chris stated.

"Yeah."  Ross agreed.  "They look familiar.  I think I've seen them somewhere before."

A few moments later, Donna Moss emerged from the bathroom and began to make her way back to their booth.  She jumped, startled when a rough hand on her arm and a "Hey baby; here alone?" stopped her.

Heart pounding, Donna looked down at the man whose hand was still grasping her arm.  His short, light blond hair was mussed.  His dress shirt was untucked, an unknotted tie was draped around his neck.  Under other circumstances, Donna might have been attracted to this well built man, but it was obvious that he'd had too many beers.  She tried to pull out of his grip and glanced in the direction of her booth. 

Josh and Sam were deep in conversation.  Sam's back was to her, and Josh's eyes were  focused on his friend, hands moving rapidly, punctuating what ever point he was trying to make.  No one seemed to notice her predicament.

"No.  My friends are right over there.  Please, let go."  Donna tried to keep her voice firm, not letting the man hear her fear.

Cal knew that it wasn't the best pick up line in the world, but at this point he didn't really care.  God, the woman was beautiful; long blonde hair framed a narrow face and striking blue eyes blinked at him, anger and fear battling in them.  He tugged again at her arm as she asked him to release her.  "Come join me, baby.  I'll buy you a drink."

Looking back on the incident later, Josh still wouldn't be able to identify what made him look toward the bathrooms at that moment.  Maybe it was Sam's comment about Donna that made him look to see if she was on her way back.  Or maybe it was some weird sixth sense that told him she was in trouble.  What ever it was, he was grateful.

As he looked away from Sam he felt his blood freeze in his veins and his heart stop.  A few feet away, Donna stood beside a table, trying to pull her arm from the grasp of a tall muscular blond, and glancing desperately in their direction.

Sam trailed off as Josh rose from his seat and quickly made his way across the short distance. 

Josh was unaware of his surroundings, his focus solely on Donna and the frightened look on her face.  "Hey buddy."  His voice was rough, surprising even himself.  "The lady is with me.  Why don't you just let her pass?"

Cal chuckled.  "Maybe she wants to have a drink with a real man, looser."  He stood to confront Josh. 

There was barely any space between the two men and Josh frowned at the strong smell of alcohol on the muscle head's breath.  The man had probably a hundred pounds and a few inches of height on Josh. "I don't want trouble.  Just let her go."

The man dropped Donna's arm and roughly pushed Josh.  "Oh yeah, fairy boy?"

Josh took a step back, loosing his battle to stay calm.  "Buddy, she's way out of your league."

In a lightening move, Cal slammed a hand into Josh's chest, grabbing a handful of shirt, pushing him back against the wall, and pinning him there.  Pain exploded through his body at the impact, and Josh gave a strangled cry of surprise that was cut off, as in the same movement the ex-ranger grabbed his throat.  Pressure on his wind pipe made it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone make any noise.  Panic surged through him and he tried to squirm out of the guy's grip.  His hands clawed desperately at the vice-like fingers.  His vision clouded and his chest tightened.  His head thundered and his knees buckled, but he remained pinned in place by a strong arm. 

What had begun as a much needed relaxing evening with friends had quickly turned into a nightmare.  Donna screamed as Josh was slammed into the wall.  She was quickly joined Sam, each trying to pry the man off their friend.

"Stop!  Let him go!"  She pleaded.

"Ya know what this is?"  The man growled into Josh's face.  Josh was squirming in the man's grip, digging at the fingers at his throat, mouth opening and closing much like that of a fish.  "Ranger's Choke Hold.  The right amount of pressure…."

Josh gasped as fingers tightening, and his face went alarmingly pale.  His movements became more desperate.

"…and I crush your wind pipe."

Josh Lyman's last thought as the room faded to black, was that there were worse things than dying for Donnatella Moss.

The conversations in the bar stopped, the room had gone silent and the click of a gun cocking echoed against the still pulsing background music.  "Let him go."  A new, authoritative voice spoke.

Sam risked a brief glance over his shoulder.  Two men, in shirts and ties, stood in police stance, guns trained on the bulky aggressor.  "Let him go."  The curly haired one repeated.

Donna moved to Josh's side, trying to somehow support him.

The haze created by PTSD and alcohol cleared, and Cal Randall saw clearly, for the first time, the man he held pinned to the wall.  The pale thin face had gone slack, lips tinted blue from lack of oxygen.  Cal's grip was all that kept the man's body upright.  With a surreal feeling of detachment, he let go and stepped back.

The young blonde, whose beauty had started the entire incident, tried unsuccessfully to support the limp man's weight.  As the man with the gun hand-cuffed Cal, he passively watched the blonde and the dark haired man ease their friend to the floor.  He was vaguely aware of the second man reading him his rights as he was lead from the bar into the cool night.

As the man released his choke hold on Josh, Donna slipped an arm around his waist and placed her other hand on his heaving chest.  Relief surged through her as she heard his coughing gasps.  Unable to support Josh's weight, they both sank to the floor.  Donna was vaguely aware of Sam's presence at Josh's other side.

"Josh?"

He coughed again and lifted a feeble hand to his bruised chest.  "God."  He rasped, eyes still closed, trying to drag air into his aching lungs.  "I think he broke something."  Another cough and he grimaced in pain.

"An ambulance in on the way."

Donna and Sam looked up to see the curly haired policeman crouched in front of them, evaluating Josh.  "My partner has the guy outside.  I'm Detective Ross Slater, Metro PD.  Look, I saw the whole thing.  I assume you'll want to press charges."

Josh gave a slight nod of his head, grimacing at the movement.

"She's Donna Moss and this is Josh Lyman."  Sam spoke for them.  "Sam Seaborn."  He extended his hand to the young detective.

Slater grimly shook his head as he grasped Sam's hand.  "I thought I recognized you;   White House Deputy Chief of Staff and Deputy Communications Director.  That guy's bad night just got worse."  Slater moved aside as two paramedics appeared.

Sam moved to stand beside Slater and watched as the EMTs checked Josh over.  Donna stayed with him, holding his hand.

Ross Slater handed Sam a business card.  "I'm going to go process that yahoo.  I'll check in with you later."  The men shook hands again and Sam handed Slater his own business card before turning back to his friend.

An oxygen mask had been placed over Josh's mouth and nose.  He seemed to be breathing a little easier and the blue tint had left his lips.  His face had lost the grayish hue, but was a startling white.  His left arm was being immobilized and a stiff collar placed around his neck.  The paramedics finished strapping Josh to a back board before placing him on the stretcher. 

"Which hospital?"  Sam asked as they started out of the bar.  Donna walked beside the rolling stretcher, holding Josh's right hand and speaking softly to him. 

"GW."  Came the brisk reply.

Sam swallowed back a wave of nausea as he was assaulted by a strong memory of the last time his friend was strapped to a stretcher, wearing an oxygen mask and neck brace.  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit speed dial.

"C.J. Cregg."  Came the Press Secretary's disembodied voice after the second ring.

"C.J., it's Sam.  Look," he sighed as he watched his best friend loaded into the back of an ambulance.  "there's been a thing…"

"What idiotic thing did you let Josh talk you into?"  The Press Secretary ranted in Sam's ear.  "I specifically told him no headlines!  I'm going to kill him!"

"Nno."  Sam stuttered, trying to stop her tirade.  "It's not like that…"  Sam trailed off as he watched Donna climb into the ambulance.  He signaled to her that he would follow in the car.

"Sam?"  C.J.'s voice carried her concern over the airwaves, all the mocking and irritation was gone.

"There was this really big guy harassing Donna…"  Sam looked around the parking lot, trying to remember where he'd parked.

"Sam?  What's going on?  Is Donna okay?"

"They're taking Josh to GW."  Sam's voice was grim, his tone held a frightening finality.  "I…I don't know how badly he's hurt."

"Sam, where are you right now?"  C.J.'s voice was gentle.

"I'm trying to find my car.  I…I've got to get to the hospital."  There was an edge of panic and frustration to the young speechwriter's voice.

"I'll meet you there.  I'm sure Josh'll be fine."  C.J. tried to reassure them both, and succeeded in grounding Sam.

"Okay." Sam eased into the driver's seat of his car.  "I'll see you soon."  He ended the call and pulled out of the parking lot. 

Sam winced as he heard a siren in the distance.  He briefly and irrationally hoped that it wasn't the ambulance caring Josh.  As he followed the route he knew the ambulance had taken, Sam's mind drifted back to a late night when Josh had confided in him over beers.  Sam had been shaken at his friend's descriptions of a mangled mix of music and sirens, of flashbacks, and of too real nightmares.  When Josh was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sam had been both terrified and relieved.  This was the very thing that ended careers in Washington, and Sam knew they all feared for Josh's job.  Yet he felt tremendous relief, because he knew that Josh was hurting, but didn't know how to help him.  Josh showed improvement in the subsequent weeks; he lost the hollow, haunted look that had sat on his face for months prior to that Christmas, and his swagger returned. And Sam woke in a cold sweat with less frequency. 

Pulling into the parking lot at George Washington University Hospital, Sam couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through him and he wondered if Josh and Donna were experiencing as strong memories as he. 

End Part 2/3