Still not mine.
s indicate flashbacks.
CHAPTER 4/6
Carl knocked on Toby's doorway. Toby looked up from what he was writing.
"I got that file you asked me about." Carl said, holding up a ratty manila folder.
"Thank you."
Carl placed the folder on his desk. "Cartier versus Wyant?" he read from the label, "Wasn't that a couple years ago?"
"Yes."
"What do you need it for?"
"We need to make a statement about the appeal."
"Oh."
"Don't you have work to do?"
"I don't know."
"Go find out."
That was clear enough for Carl. "Good idea." He said. He stepped out, closing the door behind him.
He was passing Sam's office when he heard a thumping noise from inside. Poking his head in the doorway, he saw Sam pounding his head on his desk.
"Umm...."
Sam stopped. "What are you doing?"
"Working on the most tedious assignment of my life." Sam replied, his head still down on the desk.
"What is it?"
"The Association for the Protection of Historic New England has invited the President to share his views on conserving history with them. I've been researching them for four hours now."
"Don't you have staffers to do that?"
"It was originally Toby's job."
"Ah."
Lunging at the opportunity for a break, Sam said, "You need anything?"
He seemed friendly enough so Carl asked, "Is Toby always this cold?"
"Yes and no." Sam said. He sat up and stretched. "He's always been grumpy but it got worse after..."
He didn't finish but Carl knew. "I understand."
"Yeah. Hey, you can sit down if you want."
"Thanks."
"Yeah, so it got worse for a little while then, but only for a while. Then, no offense, but it got worse for him when you showed up. But you've got to understand, he was the one who was holding him."
Carl didn't get what he was saying for a moment. Then his eyes widened.
"I should go." He said.
"Okay."
"I'm sorry about it. I really am."
"Thanks."
"Thank you for talking to me. I know I'm kind of butting in."
"No, Leo needed someone."
Carl stood up and headed for the door. He got there, stopped, and turned around.
"Sam?"
"Yeah."
"How close were you to him?"
Sam looked him in the eye, the first eye contact any of the senior staffers had made with him. "He was my best friend."
XxXxXx
Toby reached for his pen and his elbow hit the folder Carl had brought. It fell to the floor, papers spilling everywhere. Swearing, Toby started to gather up the mess. He picked up one sheet with a Post-It attached. It was a regular Post-It, bright yellow with "Friday 2 pm. Meet w/ Cartier and Leo." scratched on it. In Josh's handwriting.
"Josh?"
There he was, sitting against the wall. Toby could see the top of his head over it and his legs splayed out in front of him.
Toby climbed the steps, relief flooding his body. Then he was the blood, barely held back by hands clutching the gaping wound. He saw the dark eyes glazed with pain and shock.
His throat was too dry to yell. "I-I-need help!" he finally got out, "Somebody get a doctor over here!"
Josh started to fall. Toby caught him, cradling his head in his hand. "Help!"
No one was coming. They were all too busy making sure the President got out of there and that no one important had been hurt. No one noticed the man dying in his arms.
Blood dripped out the side of his mouth. He slowly turned his eyes toward Toby's and for one brutal moment their eyes locked. Toby could see the agony in them. Then they went blank, all the awareness flooding out onto the pavement with the blood that soaked the sidewalk, himself, and Toby.
"Josh." Toby said, lightly shaking him. "Josh, come on."
He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Joke's over. Get up. You need to get back to work. Donna needs you to."
Come on dammit! You're not leaving us like this!"
"Josh, wake up." Pleading now. "Come back!"
They were trying to take him now. "No! He's not dead! He's okay! Look at him!"
One of the paramedics took him by the shoulders as the others wheeled away the gurney they'd laid Josh on. "He's not dead." Toby said, trying to regain his calm demeanor. "He's not."
"I'm sorry sir." the paramedic said, "There's nothing we can do for him."
Friday 2 pm. Meet w/ Cartier and Leo. The words were now smudged with his tears.
s indicate flashbacks.
CHAPTER 4/6
Carl knocked on Toby's doorway. Toby looked up from what he was writing.
"I got that file you asked me about." Carl said, holding up a ratty manila folder.
"Thank you."
Carl placed the folder on his desk. "Cartier versus Wyant?" he read from the label, "Wasn't that a couple years ago?"
"Yes."
"What do you need it for?"
"We need to make a statement about the appeal."
"Oh."
"Don't you have work to do?"
"I don't know."
"Go find out."
That was clear enough for Carl. "Good idea." He said. He stepped out, closing the door behind him.
He was passing Sam's office when he heard a thumping noise from inside. Poking his head in the doorway, he saw Sam pounding his head on his desk.
"Umm...."
Sam stopped. "What are you doing?"
"Working on the most tedious assignment of my life." Sam replied, his head still down on the desk.
"What is it?"
"The Association for the Protection of Historic New England has invited the President to share his views on conserving history with them. I've been researching them for four hours now."
"Don't you have staffers to do that?"
"It was originally Toby's job."
"Ah."
Lunging at the opportunity for a break, Sam said, "You need anything?"
He seemed friendly enough so Carl asked, "Is Toby always this cold?"
"Yes and no." Sam said. He sat up and stretched. "He's always been grumpy but it got worse after..."
He didn't finish but Carl knew. "I understand."
"Yeah. Hey, you can sit down if you want."
"Thanks."
"Yeah, so it got worse for a little while then, but only for a while. Then, no offense, but it got worse for him when you showed up. But you've got to understand, he was the one who was holding him."
Carl didn't get what he was saying for a moment. Then his eyes widened.
"I should go." He said.
"Okay."
"I'm sorry about it. I really am."
"Thanks."
"Thank you for talking to me. I know I'm kind of butting in."
"No, Leo needed someone."
Carl stood up and headed for the door. He got there, stopped, and turned around.
"Sam?"
"Yeah."
"How close were you to him?"
Sam looked him in the eye, the first eye contact any of the senior staffers had made with him. "He was my best friend."
XxXxXx
Toby reached for his pen and his elbow hit the folder Carl had brought. It fell to the floor, papers spilling everywhere. Swearing, Toby started to gather up the mess. He picked up one sheet with a Post-It attached. It was a regular Post-It, bright yellow with "Friday 2 pm. Meet w/ Cartier and Leo." scratched on it. In Josh's handwriting.
"Josh?"
There he was, sitting against the wall. Toby could see the top of his head over it and his legs splayed out in front of him.
Toby climbed the steps, relief flooding his body. Then he was the blood, barely held back by hands clutching the gaping wound. He saw the dark eyes glazed with pain and shock.
His throat was too dry to yell. "I-I-need help!" he finally got out, "Somebody get a doctor over here!"
Josh started to fall. Toby caught him, cradling his head in his hand. "Help!"
No one was coming. They were all too busy making sure the President got out of there and that no one important had been hurt. No one noticed the man dying in his arms.
Blood dripped out the side of his mouth. He slowly turned his eyes toward Toby's and for one brutal moment their eyes locked. Toby could see the agony in them. Then they went blank, all the awareness flooding out onto the pavement with the blood that soaked the sidewalk, himself, and Toby.
"Josh." Toby said, lightly shaking him. "Josh, come on."
He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Joke's over. Get up. You need to get back to work. Donna needs you to."
Come on dammit! You're not leaving us like this!"
"Josh, wake up." Pleading now. "Come back!"
They were trying to take him now. "No! He's not dead! He's okay! Look at him!"
One of the paramedics took him by the shoulders as the others wheeled away the gurney they'd laid Josh on. "He's not dead." Toby said, trying to regain his calm demeanor. "He's not."
"I'm sorry sir." the paramedic said, "There's nothing we can do for him."
Friday 2 pm. Meet w/ Cartier and Leo. The words were now smudged with his tears.