Title: Changes

Author: ScarlettMithruiel

Classification: A, R

Rating: PG-13

Summary: All she has left of him are memories, a sentimental note in a rare book, and hope.

Author's Note: Hope it's in character. And I hope you like it.


She had changed. Change was inevitable. It happened to everyone, at one point or another. Her life had changed with her. Her life had changed for the better when she had first met Josh. She didn't realize it then, but it had. She had gone from an unemployed high school graduate to an employed one. Employed by the White House. And now, she was away, helping the Vice-President campaign for the Presidency. Yes, change had definitely occurred there.

She believed that she had also grown emotionally. When she was a teenager, she would often watch movies with her friends about tragic love and sacrifice. Those movies had been terribly overdone. Someone would contract a terminal illness and end up dying and the other person would never date ever again. They would never attempt a relationship again. How she had scoffed at that back then. Why would someone refrain from participating simply because their loved one was lying six feet under? Her naïve teenage self had queried.

She did not fail to catch the irony. She scoffed at the occurrence. And now? She was one of the—few? Many?—who was sacrificing. She was sacrificing her heart. She had realized quite a while ago that she had loved her boss. She had practically tripped over the boundary one should never cross. But she did. And she couldn't just stop. She had hoped that he loved her too. It was so schoolgirlish of her.

She was now further away from him as she had ever been. She remembered the day she left. She could barely believe she had mustered up the courage to do it. But he had been so aggravating that day. He had refused to speak with her, citing other meetings. He had neglected her, but no more. So she had left. Plain and simple.

Although she would never admit it, sometimes, she missed the past. She wanted to work for Josh again, to see Sam arguing with Ainsley over the future ownership of a peach in Josh's office, or to see Leo bickering with Margaret. She missed all her friends dearly. Everything was different now. There were new faces in the White House. Change. Yes, change was inevitable.

And now? Josh was running around the country trying to get Santos elected. Will was with her, and they were attempting to get their own candidate elected. Before, she had been an assistant who helped and usually did not watch. She couldn't. But now, she was on the front lines. She was fighting the good fight. Or at least, she hoped she was.

When she had worked for Josh, her heart had fluttered when he clasped her hand or when he gazed at her in that way that was unique to him, and her heart had twisted with pain when she had seen him turn his charm onto other women. She had realized long ago that there was this boundary between them that they could not cross. Were not allowed to cross. Sometimes, they crossed anyway.

She still owned the book. The Art and Artistry of Alpine Skiing. Her breath still caught in her throat when she read the sentimental note he had scrawled on the front cover. When she yearned for him on the campaign trail, to see him, to touch him, she read the front cover and pretended that it appeased the aching in her soul. It didn't.

When she had seen him in the hotel…her heart had leapt with the promise of being able to access that cameraderie again. The extent of their cameraderie had been longing gazes and her aid in opening the door to his room. She sighed. That had been a sentimental bust. She couldn't help but think that it was good to see him, regardless of the circumstances. He looked…tired. She smiled as she remembered her reactions to his appearance. She had resisted the urge to walk over and straighten his tie.

The day she left, she had felt an overwhelming tide of sadness wash over her. This was the first time she'd seen Josh in a long while, and it was possible she might not see him again. She swallowed hard, as she stood in the hallway, suitcase in hand, staring at the white of his door. How simple it would be to walk a few steps across the hallway and knock.

They could joke. They could talk, and reminisce. She could bring up the book he had bought her for Christmas, and he could reply with how she had nagged him about getting her skis or skiing equipment, and he had opted for…an instruction manual of sorts. She could comment on her alabaster skin, and he would just look at her…and she would bring her hand up to his cheek, and they would indulge in a single kiss. And they would both pull away and consider the repercussions and leave. She knew that if that ever happened, she'd mull over it for an x amount of time.

She walked back to her sleeping space and retrieved the book. The molted calf cover still felt soft in her hands. She cracked open the cover, and reread the note he had scrawled. His unique handwriting seemed to speak to her, in inappropriate tones, like he would. His words flooded back into her mind as she felt sentimental tears once again prick at her eyes. Donna, don't get emotional. Donna, don't get—But he had underestimated her. With a hug, he had gone from embarrassed to emotionally…fulfilled? There didn't seem to be a very that could properly fill that blank.

She placed it back in its proper location and headed back out to the front of the bus. She slumped into a seat as she listened to Russell's words filter in, and out, of her ears. She wasn't really paying attention. Josh's written words were still repeating in her mind. She could hear his voice, and the internal walls she had built to keep emotion out slowly began to crumble. It will never happen. A pessimistic voice in her head began to scream at her. You'll never see him again. You left him, and he'll be gone forever. She raised a hand to her face as she began to weep softly.

Her skin flushed when she felt everyone's gazes on her. Someone's voice rang out in the silence. "Donna, are you okay?" She nodded halfheartedly. She couldn't discern whose voice it was, but in the midst of her stupor, she found that it vaguely sounded like Josh.

Optimism began to rise in her again. Everything changes. Maybe you'll see him again. With that phrase now joining his note in her thoughts, she began to sit up, compose herself, and listen.