Disclaimer: I give up, they're mine, I keep them hidden under my bed. Really, I do.
Author's Notes: Part six!!! Go me!!! This chapter was hard to write for some reason, hence the gap between updates. I'm on holidays for a week starting tomorrow, so the seventh chapter won't be up for at least a week and a half. But trust me, once Chp. 7 gets up there's no turning back. The angst train has left the station. All-aboard, WOO WOO! Anyhow, hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint. To Duck, who again had me giggling like mad when I read her review, I hope you sustain no injuries while reading this chapter, and to Nonnie, thanks for commenting so regularly on this story. Everyone else who keeps coming back to read or drop a kind word, it means sooo much! Feedback is like good chocolate on a bad day. No, I don't know what I'm talking about either.
I don't really know how it's possible that I'm feeling worse than I did four days ago, but I am. After the minor fiasco of Donna finding me asleep in my office I've behaved myself somewhat and gone home for a few hours every night for the last few days. However, despite the fact that I am showered and wearing fresh clothes (which I won't be for long if I don't do something about my laundry), despite the fact that I have been trying to eat a little each morning, I still feel like something scraped off the bottom of an old shoe.
It just seems as though everything is too much effort. I hardly have the energy to pick up my feet as I shuffle into work for another day of pure hell. I keep telling myself that things will get better. One day I will wake up (provided I actually regain the ability to sleep) and that horrible leaden feeling will be gone and I won't feel as though there is a steadily growing hole under my feet waiting to swallow me up. I just don't know when that day will be.
Donna is, predictably, sitting at her desk when I drag myself into the bullpen. She spends a lot more time sitting lately. I know her leg is bothering her still. I wonder why her doctor took her off the crutches so soon.
"'Morning." She says getting to her feet as I pass. Her voice is it's usual cheerful self, but her face makes me do what I'm sure is a very noticeable double take.
"Wow, Don you look like Hell." I say looking her up and down. It's true. Short of that one time where she got herself blown up, I've never seen her look quite this bad. If her face gets any paler she'll be see through, and there are circles under her eyes that make it look as though she hasn't slept in weeks.
"Boy Josh, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet." Donna says dryly.
"I'm not kidding." I reply as she follows me into my office, "Are you sick or something?"
"I'm fine." Donna shrugs and fidgets with her hair, "I just didn't sleep well last night."
"Yeah? Why not?"
Donna stares at me as though she'd like to strangle me with my neck- tie, turns an interesting shade of pinkish purple and says, "I dunno. Just didn't."
"Okay." I say, trying not to let my concern show, "I'll try to let you off early tonight so you can get some sleep."
Donna makes a very strange noise that sounds as though she's trying not to swallow her tongue, "That'd be nice." She squeaks in an oddly strained voice. I raise one eyebrow and her face darkens from pink/purple to scarlet, "Um....right...you have, uh, uh..."
"Senior staff?" I prompt wondering what in Hell is going on. Donna has been acting very strange for the last four days. I get the feeling she's hiding something from me and I hope to God she hasn't gone off and done something stupid and guy-related again because really. That's all I'd need.
"Yes, that," Donna nods, "Then you're supposed to meet with some guys from the Surgeon General's office and after that, Leo wants to see you."
"Yeah, good. Thanks." I say as she turns to go, "Donna?"
She stops and looks back over her shoulder, "Yeah?"
I look at her a moment, trying to read the expression on her exhaustion-marked face, "Everything's okay? You're not... y'know... You're alright?"
Donna smiles and looks for a minute like she's about to burst into tears, "I'm fine Josh, don't worry about me." She hesitates then asks, "How 'bout you?"
I shrug, "I – I'm okay. I'm, you know, I'm feeling better. "I wave one hand vaguely as if trying to brush away the lie before she notices.
Donna nods, smiles that sad little smile again and leaves the room. I watch her go, then finish hanging up my coat and backpack before heading to Staff.
Eventually, I know I'm going to have to stop lying to her.
When I get to Leo's office a few hours later, I am surprised to find a healthy portion of the West Wing staff already there. Despite the fact that I could hear about four voices speaking at once as I came down the hall, everyone immediately falls silent as I enter the room.
"Wow." I say, "So this is where the party is, I..." I stop as I take in the fact that all seven people are looking at me with identical wide- eyed expressions that make them look as if I just drove an eighteen-wheel tractor trailer into the office. I half-smile, feeling thoroughly nonplussed, "Jeez, were you guys talking about me or something?" I say, only half- joking.
Donna makes the sort of sound I would imagine a person trying to swallow a live turtle would make and CJ and Charlie exchange a cryptic glance that is impossible to read. Toby, however, doesn't look ruffled in the least and says, "Yes Josh because it's not entirely possible that we might have better things to do than talk about you."
"Okay." I say, feeling stupid, "What's going on then?"
"Well, Toby, CJ and Will are here for the same meeting you are, Donna was bringing over some stuff I asked for, Charlie came by with a message and Margaret's my assistant." Leo says, peering moodily at me from over the rims of his reading glasses, "Nothing that usually indicates a secret White House conspiracy."
Donna, who still looks like she'd like nothing more than to jump out the window and run wildly away from the building, politely excuses herself and darts out of the room like a startled deer.
"Has anybody else noticed her acting a little... I dunno... weird?" I ask jerking a thumb in the direction my assistant just left from.
"No." The six remaining people in the room chorus in almost perfect unison.
"Ok-a-a-y." I pause. "You're sure? 'Cause I don't think she's been sleeping so well and she keeps blushing and making funny choking noises and... None of you have any idea what I'm talking about do you?"
"Really between the two of you we have enough to fill the worry quotient around here for the next two years." Leo says cryptically, "Could we move on?"
"Please, let's." Toby says.
The clock on my wall now reads 4:00am and I figure I really ought to be going home. It's not any easier being there. I still keep expecting to wake up from this nightmare. Anytime. Please.
But I know it's not a dream. My mother really is dead, just like everyone else really is dead. To say that I feel alone wouldn't be entirely true. Instead I feel like everywhere I go there's a little entourage of ghosts following close behind darting in and out of my peripheral vision. I'm being haunted by my dead family and maybe other things as well, though I can't quite put a name to those shapeless specters.
As I grudgingly put on my coat and turn off the light, I find myself thinking of Donna and wondering what she'd say if she knew what lousy shape I was actually in. She'd want me to talk to someone I guess. Maybe she'd want me to talk to her. I couldn't do that. I couldn't put her through another night of trying to keep me from falling apart. Not after everything she's been through. Not after everything I've done to her.
I'm glad that, for once, I was able to keep my promise and send her home at eight thirty. Hopefully she'll get a good night's sleep and won't look like the walking dead tomorrow. I smile a little as I imagine Donna sleeping soundly in her bed, dreaming whatever it is that someone like her dreams.
That image is still with me as I shut my office door and start to head out.
So imagine my surprise when I find Donna asleep at her desk.
For a moment I just stare, feeling confused. Then, I understand and am hit by such a startling combination of emotions that for the space of almost a minute I can barely see straight. I feel guilt and anger and sadness and maybe something a little bit like love, but unfortunately for Donna, it's the anger that overrides everything else (or is that guilt?) as I march up to the desk.
"Donna." I say loudly.
My assistant snaps into wakefulness so violently that she almost topples out of her seat. "Josh!" she yelps, flying to her feet in such an ungraceful fashion that I'd laugh if I wasn't so pissed off. "Oh God. I..."
"What the Hell are you doing?" I demand not bothering to keep my voice down, hardly noticing the way my words echo off the walls, hardly noticing anything over the rush of blood in my ears.
"I...I...." Donna stammers, taking a few steps back as though afraid I might hit her. Somehow this makes things worse because she has to know, has to know, that I would never intentionally hurt her. Not ever.
"Is it at all possible," I say slowly, carefully measuring my words, "that the reason you didn't sleep well last night is because you were here?" She says nothing, just drops her gaze to the floor. "Look at me. Tell me the truth. Dammit Donna, Look at me!"
"Yes." Donna says in a barely audible voice. Her eyes meet mine and I can see them shining with tears.
"And the night before that?" She nods her eyes still fixed on my face. She's gripping the back of her chair so hard her knuckles are white. "You've been here every night since Tuesday, haven't you?"
"Yes." She says again, little stronger this time.
"Okay." I say, pressing my mouth into a thin line. "Okay, I'm not dealing with this right now."
Donna blinks rapidly against the tears that are threatening to spill over, "Josh, I..."
"Go home Donna." I cut her off, speaking through clenched teeth.
"But, I..."
"I mean it Donna, right now, go home."
Donna nods, "Okay." She says meekly. I spin on my heel and turn away from her, unable to look at the distress radiating from every line of her body, unable to see the naked look of fierce protectiveness in her eyes.
As I storm away, I realize that, despite my best intentions, I've managed to hurt her again anyway.