AUTHOR'S NOTES: So, by now, you've probably noticed that my world is a little different than John Well's world. This chapter can probably be read (if you disregard a little bit of finesse with the timeline) in terms of both worlds.

I think we were cheated out of seeing this and there have been some really good fanfic stories about Josh's departure. Here is my take. We'll go into the campaign in a little while (when I feel better and get some more inspiration).

Let me know what you think.

P.S. – A big thank you to Kursk for giving me the secretary's name in the Oval!

PHOTOGRAPHS (15)

The office looked desolate and empty, much like it appeared the day he walked into the West Wing to take over in the bullpen. The walls were stripped and bare. The desk was completely clean. The files that had covered every spare inch of flat space for the last seven years had been distributed to the various "wonks" and the cleaning staff had even been able to vacuum the floor – the first time since he had returned from the shooting and destroyed Donna's organization. He had decided to leave the Senate "crib notes" on the chalkboard - whoever took over for him might find it useful. It was, in his opinion, incredibly surreal.

"Have you gone up to see him yet?" C.J. asked him from the doorway, sneaking into his reverie as only she could do.

Josh shook his head without looking up, "No. Not yet."

"You're going to have to go talk to him. You can't avoid him any more."

"Yeah."

"Josh, you've managed to keep out of the Oval for the last twelve days. You have to go talk to him – you owe him that much," C.J.'s tone was similar to that of a mother reminding her son to write his thank you notes after receiving presents.

"I know, I know!" he looked up at her, sighing heavily, "But there are a few other people I have to see first….Charlie… Leo… Toby."

"Don't worry about Toby. He and I are taking you to the Hawk and Dove tonight. Did you really think we'd do the big 'Goodbye' in the middle of the bullpen? You couldn't leave without the requisite two beers."

Josh raised his eyebrow, "Uh, C.J. If you haven't noticed, you're the Chief of Staff for the President of the United States. You can't just waltz off to a local politico-bar and drink beers. It's not like the old days."

"Oh, mi amour, you don't get it," she said shaking her head slowly with a sly smile on her face, "I'm the Chief of Staff for the President of the United States and, therefore, I can do whatever I want."

As she turned to walk down the hallway, she threw the words back over her shoulder, "Now, go talk to him. Toby and I will get you later."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Charlie?" Josh poked his head into the office reserved for the Senior Assistants to the Chief of Staff and found Charlie with his head buried in a report.

"Oh, hey," Charlie replied, looking up from his desk, "I'm sorry I didn't getover to see youearlier. C.J. has me reviewing the most recent report from Treasury on the productivity of non-incorporated areas of the Appalachian Range and something about something else."

Josh chuckled and leaned against the doorjamb, "That's ok. Today has been a little busy, anyway."

The two men studied one another silently, knowing that neither wanted to say what had to be said.

"Josh…"

"Charlie…"

"Sorry, you first…"

"Damn. I'm sorry…"

The two started to laugh and the tension disappeared immediately. Josh shoved his hands in his pockets and gestured at Charlie with his elbow, "You go."

Charlie looked down at the top of his desk and thought for a moment, searching for a way to put his feelings into words. He hated goodbyes and had avoided this one for as long as possible.

"Josh," he started slowly, "I want you to know… meeting you that day, the day I came to interview for the messenger job, was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Charlie…" Josh interrupted.

"No, wait, let me finish," Charlie responded firmly, knowing he needed to finish the words that had been rolling around his head all day and preventing him from seeing anything on the page in front of him, "If you hadn't believed in me that day, if you hadn't made me believe in myself, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have met the President, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to go to Georgetown, I wouldn't have been able to do any of what I have done. I owe you everything for the choice you made that day."

Taken aback, Josh stood open mouthed in the doorway. The younger man stared down at the top of his desk and continued.

"And there was the night in the Arboretum and when Zoe was kidnapped…"

The older man held up his hand and started to chuckle. "Charlie, you don't owe me for any of that! C'mon…"

Charlie jumped up from behind his desk and looked Josh directly in the eye, "You don't get it, man! You don't get it!" Pointing his index finger vehemently at Josh's chest, the words exploded out of him, "You did all of that. You did all of that and you took a bullet because of me! You nearly died because of me! Man, don't you see? You did all of this for me and I owe you everything."

The room was deathly silent as the two men stood, wide-eyed, across from one another. The subject that had never been discussed between them now stood out in the open and it had drawn the air out of the room.

"I owe you everything," Charlie stated softly. "I owe you everything. And if you ever need me, you call me. You just ask." He then sat back down behind his desk, picked up the report that had been earlier tossed aside and began reading.

Josh stood, overwhelmed, in the doorway - unable to move forward, to take the young man in his arms in a hug he so desperately wanted to give and unwilling to step back and move out into the hallway and away from everything this day had entailed. After a minute passed, he slowly turned and walked down the hallway to the office Leo had taken over a few weeks before.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Leo had settled into C.J.'s old office with relative ease. Margaret had hovered over him like a mother-hen for the first week until Leo laid down the law that she was only able to call him or come to his office to check up on him once every two hours. He had to constantly remind her that he was certain C.J. needed Margaret's services much more than he did and that he would remember to take his medicine, grab a nap, or go home on time (the answer depended upon the day's lecture) before he sent her back to her desk.

He looked up from the papers on his desk to see Josh standing in his doorway.

Shit. He's leaving. It's time.

Leo forced himself to remember that it was his idea, initially, to set Josh on the path he had chosen. The President had immediately agreed and the two had tag-teamed the younger man one night, knowing, as older, wiser men do, that he would rise to the challenge.

"Have you been to see him yet?" Leo asked, looking over the top of his glasses.

"What?"

"Have you been to seem him yet?" Leo asked again, realizing that Josh Lyman, the man who felt the need to save everyone around him, the man who hated to be left behind, was leaving everyone and everything he loved.

This is killing him.

"Ummmm, no. Not yet. I'm making my way up there," Josh replied, walking into the office and sitting down across the desk in one of the visitor's chairs.

"How you doing?" The older man saw the emotion just below the surface and was amazed at the restraint Josh was showing.

"I'm ok."

"Really? 'Cause you look like hell."

Josh looked up at Leo, his expression dazed and overwhelmed. And then he started to laugh. The laughter welled up inside of him and he laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. After a few moments, he composed himself, wiped his eyes and sat smiling in the chair, looking as if he had just won the lottery.

"Feel better?" Leo asked, knowing Josh well enough not to be at all surprised by the outburst.

"Yeah. I was sitting here thinking of how tough today has been and then I remembered the time we put the turkeys in here. For C.J. The Thanksgiving turkeys," Josh laughed, looking around the office and remembering times that had been glory years.

Leo chuckled, "Oh, yes. The turkeys. Believe it or not, I had forgotten about them."

The two men sat for a moment, each in their own world of past memories.

"When do you head for New Hampshire?" the older man asked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"Matt is going to declare tomorrow. We have a couple of days to get our act together and then we're going up early next week." Josh fiddled with the end of his tie, nervously rolling it between the fingers of his right hand.

"Josh…"

"Leo, I wanted to thank you." The words were rushed, as if he had to push them out. "I want to thank you for coming to me that day, in Hoynes' office. And for convincing me to go to New Hampshire. For keeping me here even when I fucked up in the extreme. I want to thank you for believing in me all these years. I gave you so many opportunities not to, and you still did. I know why you told the President to give C.J. the CoS spot. You were right when you did it. And I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate what you have done for me. I really tried to make you proud. I hope you believe that."

Leo studied the younger man in front of him and felt the weight of his years settle in upon his shoulders. He thought of Noah Lyman and the first time they met all those years ago. He remembered the times Noah had spoken of his son, the day they lost Joanie, the years it took the family to rebuild itself. He saw, in his mind, the day Josh lay in the hospital with his chest open and the surgeons working to save his life. He remembered the day he promised Noah Lyman that he wouldn't let anything else happen to his son.

"You know how I met your father, right?" Leo asked Josh, standing up to look out of the tall windows next to his desk.

"Yeah, you two were in college together. Dad used to tell great stories about your frat days," Josh chuckled.

Leo snorted, "Well, whatever he told you about me paled in comparison to the things he pulled off." He paused for a moment and put his hands into his pockets.

"The day you were born, Josh, your father called me and said, 'I have a son, Leo! A son!' He was so excited. He went on about all the things he wanted for you, what he wanted you to do, the things you would accomplish. But the one thing he wanted more than anything was for you to do something that would matter. To be one of 'the good guys'."

The older man turned from the window and looked down at the man in the chair, "You did that once, Josh, when you got Jed Bartlet elected. And you did it, again, when you got him elected to a second term. The things we have done in the last seven years have made the lives of millions of people better. I think your father would have been very proud of you for that. But what you are doing now? I think this would make him the most proud."

The older man cleared his throat, "I don't have a son, Josh. I have always thought of you as part of my family. I've always thought I could talk to you like you were my son. I just want you to know that I think Noah is exceptionally proud of you. And I am exceptionally proud of you."

Josh stood, the tears showing in his eyes, and walked until he was face to face with his father's oldest friend, "Leo…"

Leo took the younger man in his arms and hugged him, the thin line holding his restraint in place was tight to the point of breaking.

The older man stepped away, wiping his eyes, and said, "You have to go see him now."

Josh shook his head, wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and turned to leave.

"Leo…"

"You've got to go in there, Josh. You've avoided him for as long as you can. It's time."

"Yeah." Josh took two steps, stopped and turned, "Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"That thing you did for Donna? The interview? When Colin was going to release the photographs? I never did get to thank you."

The old man looked up, his eyes softening, and gestured with his hands, "I didn't do it for her, Josh. I did it for you. Now go talk to the man."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Josh was in the anteroom, off of the Oval Office, wondering how many times he had paced that very same piece of carpet over the years he had worked in the White House. He was certain that in a thousand years, when archaeologists were studying the building, his footprint would be imbedded in the cement under the carpet in this very spot.

"Josh?"Nancy said his name, walking out of the door, "He can see you now."

The steps were painful and slow as he walked into the Oval Office. The man in front of him was physically debilitated, but mentally and spiritually still the giant that Josh had come to respect and love in his years of service.

What am I doing?

"Josh?" The voice was soft and sympathetic, as if the man in the chair who had so many worries and so many troubles was concerned only about him.

Oh, God. I can't do this.

"How are you feeling?" Josh asked, not wanting this to be the moment. Not wanting it to be now.

"Not too bad."

"Sir, I never imagined I would be having this conversation with you. I never thought that I would be saying this to you."

"Josh…"

"Mr. President, it has been an honor and a privilege to work for you. The years I have spent in this building have been the best years of my life." Josh was standing with his head down, his shoulders turned in as if to help him hide from the sheer importance of this moment.

"Oh for God's sake, Josh. This doesn't have to be a Hallmark moment. Sit down."

"Mr. President?"

"Sit down! You're making me feel like I'm channeling my father, sitting here in this chair, so sit down so I can look you in the eye and we can speak like men."

Josh slowly sat on the sofa across from the President and studied his hands. This wasn't how he had wanted it to go – he had wanted to come in, say his piece and leave. Anything more was going to push him past his breaking point and having once lost his mind with the President, he didn't want to repeat such a distinct honor.

"Josh," the President said softly, "I know I may not have been completely fair to you these last few years…"

"Oh, Sir!"

"Are you going to let me do this or are you going to act like Ellie and interrupt me every time I try and have a serious discussion?"

Chagrined, Josh, looked back down at his hands, "I'm sorry, Mr. President."

"As I was saying, I may not have been as fair to you in these last few years as I could have been. I think perhaps I was envious of you. You were able to do and say everything that I wanted to all these years. You were my 'Pit Bull' and in being that, you simply reminded me that I had to have you do for me what I couldn't do for myself. I've had to learn a lot about letting people do things for me, these past years. Hell, these past few weeks have taught me more about letting go and letting others do things for me that I can't do than seven years of sitting in this office."

Josh studied the man in front of him, realizing that this was one of the few personal moments they had shared since that night in the airport when he was preparing to go home to bury his father.

The President removed his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. "Never in all of those years did you not do what was asked of you, Josh. Not once did you not do what needed to be done. Even if I was the world's biggest bastard, you were someone I could count on. If I have never thanked you for that, then I need to do so now."

"Mr. President…" Josh found that the words simply wouldn't come.

"Go over to my desk."

"I'm sorry, Sir?"

"My wife couldn't be here today. She wanted to say goodbye to you herself, but she is giving a speech at a DAR convention somewhere. She put something together for you. Go over to my desk."

Josh stood and walked over to the grand desk a few feet away. On it were two boxes, one large and flat, and one smaller, the size of a small square jewelry box.

"Abby's is the big one," the President chuckled, "Always the overachiever, my wife. Bring them over here."

Josh picked up the two boxes and walked back to the sofa. Settling himself on the sofa with the boxes at his side, he looked quizzically at the President.

"Well, open it!" Jed Bartlet laughed, knowing what was inside and eager to see the younger man's reaction.

Putting aside the smaller box, Josh picked up the larger present and pulled off the paper. Opening the blue box, he gasped and felt the tears rise in his eyes.

"Abby had one made for each of you. Donna and Sam, too, thought she has to ship those out to them. I think she got to contemplating the end of our days here and wanted to do something for each of you. She had her office bring boxes of old pictures up to the Residence and she spent nights going through them until she found the right one."

The President watched as Josh lifted the heavy silver Tiffany frame out of the box and studied the picture. He knew the photograph well, as Abby had one copied and framed and placed in the living room of the Residence. It had been taken at one of the state dinners – they were all standing in profile, lined up in a row – a once in a lifetime shot. The men were in white tie and the women in gowns and they all seemed entranced with something in the distance, out of the frame of the picture. From memory, Jed could name them each as he watched Josh touch each face – Toby, C.J., Sam, Donna and Josh.

"Mr. President," Josh whispered, "I don't… I don't know… what to say."

"Then don't. Let me say a couple of things."

The younger man continued to stare down at the photograph as the older man continued, "Each of you has proven yourself in one way or another. Each of you has sacrificed and given 115 percent of your being to what we have done here. And each of you has done everything that I have ever asked of you. But you are the one, Josh. You are the one I have asked to make sure that what we did here wasn't in vain."

Josh's head shot up and he looked Jed Bartlet in the eye.

"You are a fighter, Josh. I've seen you do it here in the White House. I saw you do it in that hospital bed. I know that whatever you need to do to make something happen, you do it. That is why you are the one who will continue what we have done here. You are the one that will preserve our future. Leo and I both recognize that if you hadn't left Hoynes that day to come work for my campaign, I wouldn't be here. That's why we chose you. You aren't leaving us, Josh. You're just taking a few steps ahead to make sure everything is ready for the rest of us when we catch up."

The President continued, feeling the tears begin to fill his own eyes, "Abby and I never had a son, Josh. I love my daughters, don't get me wrong, but I have always wondered what it would have been like to have a son. I will never know what that is like. But I do know enough, though, to tell you that if we had had a son, I would be the world's proudest father if he had turned out to be half the man you are."

"Sir," Josh stood, the tears now freely rolling down his cheeks, "It has been my greatest honor to serve at the pleasure of the President."

Jed looked up at the young man in front of him and said gravely, "It has been an honor to have you here."

The emotion in the room was heavy and heartbreaking. Josh turned to leave, the framed photograph in his hand.

"Josh?"

"Yes, Mr. President?" he said, turning toward the man in the chair.

"Two things. First, there is another gift there for you, the small box. Don't open it now. Wait. You'll know the right time when it comes. Second, the next time you are in Washington, my wife demands your presence in the Residence for dinner." The older man was chuckling, having wiped away his tears when the young man turned to leave.

Josh walked over to the sofa and picked up the smaller box.

"Sir. You can tell the First Lady that it's a date."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Toby, C.J. and Josh sat around a table at the Hawk and Dove, C.J.'s security detail quietly watching the activity around the table from a discreet distance. The three had been there long enough for a few drinks to be consumed and Josh was beginning to feel the effects of the day. He felt numb and tired, emotionally drained and unable to determine exactly how he got there.

Josh looked at the two people with him, the last of the golden group who had entered the doors of the West Wing all those years before. C.J., mature and assured, and Toby, quietly calculating how they could continue down to the wire – he suddenly felt the guilt rise up in him at the thought he was leaving them behind.

"I think I need to get going," he said, looking up at both of them, trying to catch their eyes. "I've had one hell of a day and there's a huge amount of stuff that I have to get together for tomorrow."

"Yeah, and I don't think it's wise that I be seen boozing it up in a bar for the entire night," C.J. sighed, "Despite what I said this morning about being able to do what I want."

"Guys…" Josh started, not knowing how he could put into words the things he wanted to tell both of them.

"Don't," Toby said quietly, focusing on something across the bar.

"Toby?"

"He's right," C.J. said, the tears in her eyes visible even in the dim light of the bar. "Don't say anything. Let's just leave like we would any other night."

Josh looked from one to the other, his composure slipping. As he had with Charlie, he wanted desperately to take each of these two in his arms, to express the depth of his feeling for both of them. And yet, he understood the need to not make this a "thing".

Standing up from his chair, he collected his backpack and slipped on his coat. Toby was still staring at something across the bar, the muscles in his jaw the only sign that he was struggling to control himself. C.J. was staring at her wineglass, the tears streaking down her cheeks and somehow making her look even more elegant.

"I want you two to know," Josh said softly, leaning into the table and inclining his head so he was as close to them as space would allow, "You are my family. You have been my family for the last eight years and you will be my family for the rest of my life. You are family and if there is anything you need…."

The words drifted off into the space between them and then disappeared into the noise of the bar. Josh straightened up, turned around and walked out of the bar without ever looking back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Walking into his condominium, Josh slammed the front door and then leaned his back up against it wondering if he had the energy or the will to take another step. The realization that he had just given up everything he had, and left everything he knew, to take the wildest political challenge to be proposed in the last 100 years suddenly washing over him.

Sighing heavily, he shuffled into the living room, shrugging off his coat and throwing his backpack on the sofa. He walked into the kitchen and put the small cardboard box in his hands on the counter. After pulling the last beer from the refrigerator, he walked back to the box and pulled out Abby Bartlet's gift. He set the photograph on the counter and studied each of the faces one more time.

We look so young. Were we ever that young? Did we ever think that would end?

Shaking off his sorrow, he reached back into the box and pulled out the small box the President had told him to open "later".

"Now's as good a time as any," he said aloud, taking a swig from the beer. Slowly opening the box, he found a black velvet jewelers box and a folded piece of paper. He opened the paper to find the President's distinctive writing.

Josh -

The lessons of the past and the promise of the future are all in the palm of your hand.

Jed

Josh smiled, set the letter down and opened the velvet box. Nestled in the velvet was a sterling silver key chain made of a simple round disk. Lifting it out of the box, Josh smiled at the simple elegance of the silver and noticed the initials JSB engraved in script on one side. Thinking there might be something on the other side, he turned it over and broke into a giant grin at the inscription.

Laughing, Josh closed his fingers around the key chain and thought about the day to come. Realizing he had work yet to do to prepare for Matt Santos' declaration of his candidacy for President, Josh laid the keychain down on the counter and went into the living room to make some phone calls.

The keychain on the counter reflected the fluorescent lights of the kitchen and winked its message from Jed Bartlet to the man he hoped would secure the future for his grandchildren. Two simple words that were uttered in the beginning and echoed over the years…

What's next?

(To be continued.)