TITLE: Infelix
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
EMAIL: demonfaith@btinternet.com
CATEGORY: J/D, AU, Josh POV
SPOILERS: Everything up to ‘On the Day Before’, and familiarity with ‘Unforgivable’ and ‘Take Care’ is advisable.
SEASON/SEQUEL: Sequel to ‘Unforgivable’ and ‘Take Care’, which is set in an AU after ‘On the Day Before’.
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: ‘Ill-starred’ – Josh finds out.
DISCLAIMER: The West Wing belongs to Aaron Sorkin et al.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Apologies to Mel: Josh will not be stripping for your fan-fiction self, hon, so sorry about that!
“You’ve got promise, Josh. Keep your mouth shut, and you may get somewhere.”
That woman has a way with words. Like a
python and strangulation. I smile at her, but my heart isn’t here. It’s
somewhere on its way to
So, I’m left alone with my thoughts, after
Mel has dragged every feeling I’ve ever possessed out of my ears with a
toothpick. She must be a psychiatrist, or something.
Well, now I know exactly how I feel – as painfully obvious as it may have been to some, I was not among the enlightened – what am I meant to do?
No answers are forthcoming.
Wandering aimlessly, this city seems so different at night. I faintly recognise places – here’s where Donna and I had coffee one time, this is where she had a date with some gomer, this is her favourite restaurant, the shop she always raves about, the tattoo place she wanted to visit drunk…
This is Donna’s city. How can I live here,
seeing her everywhere, knowing she’s meant to be part of this place?
I’m not the only one lost in thought. A young man runs straight into me, and curses. My reverie breaks, and I look up at him. He smiles tightly, mutters something and walks past, breaking into a light jog a few steps away. I stare back at him, my mind reeling.
It’s only when he rounds the corner that it hits me.
He was carrying a handbag.
Donna’s handbag.
Sense departs, and I’m running. Not after him, but in the direction from which he came. I have to find her, I must get to her. Oddly, it’s not her face in front of me as I run, but that handbag, taunting me from his hands.
Dangling White House keyring.
Bartlet for
Black material now stained red. Oh God, NO!
I hear it before I see it. Sirens blaring
towards me, down the road passed me. The ambulance is gone before I look round.
Still, I keep running, seemingly forever, knowing there must be a place,
someone to tell me where she’s gone…
There’s a police cordon. I’m suddenly pushing through a crowd, angry at their presence. They’re gawping at where my Donna was, where she was…god, what’s happened to her?
I’m finally at the front, and I manage to attract some attention. There’s a lot of blood on the ground, too much blood. Please, please, she can’t be dead, she can’t be…
“Sir? Sir, you can’t cross this line…sir!”
“Who’s the woman who was…who was she?”
“We don’t know, sir. Please step back...”
“Tall, blonde? Wearing…a blue sweater, black trousers?”
My mind reels. An image of Donna, lethal handbag clutched tightly to her body, every inch of her screaming with hurt, hurt I caused – it stays in my head, throbbing behind my eyes. She stared at me with cold eyes, and threw the envelope at me. It’s funny how a slip of paper can cause so much pain.
Donna’s in pain.
Oh god.
The officer nods blankly at me, and I want to reach out and shake her.
“Which hospital did they take her to? Please, you have to...”
“
I’m running, a muttered thanks, everything
muted as I keep on running. I hail a cab distractedly,
~
Josh burst through the doors to the ER, eyes frantically searching for any sign that Donna had passed that way. His heart was pounding and the treacherous handbag still played in front of his eyes.
He walked to the desk, every fibre of his being screaming for him to run.
“You had a...attack victim in here? Tall, blonde, blue sweater, black trousers?”
The woman looked up at him, faintly startled.
“You know our Jane Doe?”
“Yeah,” he said, the air splintering around him, air fleeing from his lungs, “Donnatella Moss. I’m her...”
He trailed off. Boss? No, his stupidity had seen to that. Friend? Same window as the job, he knew. Lover? Not even his own mind or memory could secure that half-truth, so he just stared blankly at the woman.
“I’ll see what I can do, sir. We will need confirmation.”
She strode away, leaving him to be elbowed aside by an impatient old woman brandishing flowers. He stepped aside, letting the people ebb and flow around him like a tide of angst and depression. He could hear the faint chatter of some teenagers, the hushed whisper between friends, a few muttered words of prayer filtering through the shadowed handbags and blood pools...
“Sir?”
A strong voice, the touch of a hand...he looked at the receptionist, who pulled him out of the unrelenting tide of people with purpose.
“Are you Josh Lyman?”
He blinked rapidly, and swallowed before answering.
“Yes...yes I am...”
“You’re listed as Ms Moss’ next of kin, so if you’d like to follow me...”
He followed obediently, mind reeling, recalculating. Next of kin...not after today, no she’d change it to someone else. Someone who wouldn’t hurt her. His mind quietly wondered if he should tell someone that.
He was left in a little room for what seemed like hours, the faint ticking of a clock sounding somewhere in his mind, the knowledge that he could be losing her – again – was sinking through him, drowning him. The door opened, the receptionist back and he got up without a word, knowing that if he spoke, tears would follow.
He was handed over to a nurse, who was explaining something as they walked. He picked up odd words like ‘stabbed’ and ‘unconscious’ but his mind flitted over them like a butterfly scenting petals.
“She’s been out of surgery for a while now. The surgeon repaired most of the damage. She should wake up soon, so just...keep talking to her.”
He nodded dumbly and walked through the door she held open. He stopped a few feet from her bed, the door swinging closed, the sound of a heart monitor echoing amongst the walls.
Strangely, she looked like an angel. The room was dark except for a softly glowing lamp, and night forced its way inside him, cold and deadening. He moved slowly towards her, his breathing drowning out every other sound. He sat carefully by her bedside, hand reaching for hers amongst the cables, remembering this dance from long ago.
And there in the silent stifling darkness, he waited.
~
She vaguely remembered that there was something she should be doing right now. Something she had to remember, or Josh had to remember. Something...important. It was tugging at the edges of her mind, a growing urgency that she couldn’t quite understand. So, she’d just wait, and listen to two people breathing as if their hearts were one.
~
He didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry? Forgive me? Get well soon? Those words were hollow and meaningless when faced with her mortality, with his own sense of death. It shouldn’t have been like this. The sting of his words lashed out to him and he flinched. Words can’t undo words, he thought, he needed something...purer.
He looked down at her, fingers stretching to brush away an errant wisp of hair. They lingered, unwilling to pull away from the soft, cool alabaster skin. He shifted closer, unconsciously gravitating towards what he knew to be right, towards her, towards them.
Slowly, as if fairytales and denial fought each other within, he leant forward and pressed his lips to hers.
~
Donna awoke to the thought that this must
be Heaven. Why else would Josh be kissing her? Unless this was his personal
Hell, though that didn’t seem probable. Opening her heavy weighted eyes, she
saw that it was indeed Josh, but he pulled away, looking as dazed as she felt.
And the pain cascaded through her.
She cried out, and vaguely heard someone calling for a nurse, before a hand returned to hers, and a voice whispered, “Wasn’t that bad.”
She let out a burst of laughter, and immediately regretted it, but he held her shoulders, and met her tearful eyes.
“Okay, no more bad jokes, I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Lyman,” she forced out, and he grinned. A full dimpled grin. And she had to smile back, cause how else can you respond to such an infectious adorable smile?
The pain gradually faded away, and she began to have new faith in Josh’s smile – until she saw the nurse with a syringe. Her eyes drifted back to Josh, who was watching her with...trepidation? Fear? Why would he...?
Her mind dutifully filled in the gaps and
she sighed, a ripple of pain following. Well, if she was going to wake to Josh
kissing her...
“
He tilted his head to the side, questioning her. She smiled slowly, and reached out her hand to his. He took it carefully and they sat like that as the nurse fussed around her.
The door flew open and Mel dived through, out of breath and glaring daggers at both of them.
“Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?
First, Lover Boy and his chronic denial, and then Sam Seaborn calls me and says
you were attacked, and the President’s trying to get down here...and is he
holding your hand?”
Josh ducked his head, and Donna smiled weakly.
“Sure looks that way.”
Mel beamed, and looked at them lovingly. Josh rolled his eyes.
“It’s about damn time!”
“I thought you hated me,” Josh mused aloud, and Mel shrugged.
“You’re growing on me,” she conceded.
The door flew open again, and Sam arrived; also out of breath, yet clutching a bunch of battered flowers to his chest.
“Thank God...you’re awake...and Mel...”
Mel quickly took the flowers, as Sam
collapsed into a chair.
“So, how you doing?” he said breathlessly, and Donna smiled slightly.
“I’m...hurting a little, but...it’s alright...”
Josh squeezed her hand, as if the slight
pressure would force all the badness out of her. She slipped her hand away, and
Josh felt cold.
“I’m gonna sleep for a while – I’m a little tired.”
“Yeah, of course you are!” Sam stood, and beamed at her, taking Josh by the shoulder and gently pushing him out of the door. He met her eyes one last time, before letting himself be led away. Mel returned with the vase, put a hand on Donna’s shoulder, then quietly slipped away.
Donna lay back and closed her eyes, her mind full of black handbags and unforgivable words.
~
“You want me to sing?”
“It might help.”
“You want me to sing.”
“It couldn’t do any harm, could it?”
“Sam, I am not singing, not even for Donnatella Moss.”
Donna frowned. Josh was going to sing? For
her? What crazy-ass dream world had she stumbled upon? She opened her eyes
slowly, and watched the Sam and Josh show.
“Singing is a very effective method of communication.”
“Yeah, my singing would wake her up, but she’d have nightmares for weeks.”
“You sing very well.”
“I sing like a...when have you heard me sing?”
“Many, many times.”
“This is true,” Donna muttered absently, and immediately, the spotlight swung.
“Hey, how long have you been there?”
Josh sat on the edge of the bed, and smiled, his voice quiet and soothing. It sounded alien.
“About a day now, Joshua,” she sighed, impatiently, to get this done, to get up, to run.
He smiled broadly, his mood sliding back to the old Josh, the real Josh, the one who could hurt her and would.
“Funny girl.”
“You alright, Donna? You look pale.” Sam moved closer, protectively, eclipsing Josh for a moment. She concentrated on his deep blue eyes, wondering why they seemed cold, why she hungered for brown.
“Yeah, just...tired. When am I getting out of here?”
“The doctors want to do a few scans and tests, but soon.”
She nodded listlessly, wondering why her mind was trying to compress itself into the very centre of her head and leach out of her ears simultaneously. She thought it might be to do with Josh, but then wasn’t everything?
She tried to concentrate on what Sam was saying but his concerned prattle just fell about her like black snow. Behind him, the sun refused to be shadowed, and even though she could not see him, she knew that he was there and that thought made her tremble and strengthen, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. //Welcome to the hysteria of mass religion// she thought wryly.
She thought that maybe Sam realised what he
was doing and that was precisely why he continued. Maybe he was trying to take
her off this drug, lessen the dose till she didn’t need him anymore. So she
could flee back to
Josh didn’t love her. The plain truth of the matter settled firmly upon her, and with that clearly fixated in her mind, she tuned back in to what Sam was saying.
“...taking a trip to
“I’ll do it.”
Josh stepped towards the bed, and stared at Donna, wondering when her face had become so damn unreadable. She looked too pale, too fragile, yet so rigidly set that he wondered whether she was about to bolt for the nearest window. Yeah, another Josh Lyman screw-up – and he didn’t even know what he’d done. Hmm...at least this was familiar territory.
“Sam, can you leave us
alone for a minute?” Josh asked.
Sam quickly stood and left, fleeing from the fire and ice that had started to pervade the air.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because we need to talk.”
“I think you’ve said enough.”
Her words hit him like a battering ram, impaling him upon his guilt and tearing him apart. Backing slowly away, he realised that this was all a huge waste of time. What was he doing? She didn’t care for him – she never had!
He ran for the door, and...bumped straight into Mel. He pushed passed her hurriedly, as she wandered in, and sat down.
“What did you say?”
“That he’d said enough.”
“He knows that, Donna.”
“He wants to stay with me.”
“You want him to stay?”
“Yes.”
“Then, let him stay.”
Plain-spoken words often have the effect of brushing past the turmoil of a confused consciousness. She wanted him to stay...she had said as much...she needed him...NO!
“I don’t need him.”
Mel looked at her sceptically, her eyes saying far more than any words could. It was the look of someone who has heard the argument many times and still believes it’s utter crap. It was a look Mel had down perfectly, but then she’d had a lot of practice.
“Okay, *this time* I need him. But, if I go
back to that, then what if I can’t get away? I want to go...to
“You want to go home, Donna. You just haven’t realised that you’re there.”
Mel let that sink in for a minute, before taking her hand and smiling.
“Just see how it goes. I’ll be back soon anyway, it won’t be for long.”
She slipped away quietly, and Donna was
left alone to think...and wonder if she’d ever remember why she went to
/~/THEN/~/
She drove crazily in the rain, not even sure if she was still on the road. She didn’t know where she was going or if there was any chance she was still alive – all that she could think of was him. She touched at her forehead again, vaguely aware of blood trickling down her face and matting her hair.
She shouldn’t drive like this.
She had no choice.
Another minute and she could’ve been dead. She didn’t want to die. Oh, she may have thought about it, an idle touch at her mind during the worst times, but now she was sure. She had to leave, she had to run – she didn’t care about reputation. No one would hit her again, no one.
She flicked on the radio, trying to drown out the pounding in her ears and the beeping horns of angry drivers. There was no music, she was almost glad – she needed logic and focus, clarity.
‘Amongst the candidates competing for that all-important Democratic nomination is the Governor of New Hampshire, Josiah Bartlet. Tonight, we’re talking to his campaign manager, Joshua Lyman. So, Josh – you left the campaign of Senator John Hoynes for this dark horse bid. What makes this man so special?’
Politics – yes, this she understood. Defence spending, military, pensions, welfare, domestic violence...
‘Governor Bartlet is...not afraid. He isn’t out to win friends or try a new job – he’s running for President because he wants to make peoples lives better, and he is someone I believe in.’
This man was wary, she could tell. He wanted to make a statement, something political but cloaked in personality – yet, somehow she felt that he was sharing something with her, that this was what he truly believed and that he was exactly like his candidate – someone to believe in.
A sign ahead said ‘
/~/NOW/~/
And now her belief was only shattered dreams and wisps of hope. Your belief didn’t cruelly twist you inside-out. Did it?
He didn’t come to see her for days, preferring to send flowers and let Sam wash her away with too-blue eyes and words of nothingness. They had never been able to do that – maybe the trivial, but never nothingness. Perhaps that was their downfall.
CJ came and went, bringing news and interesting facts, along with the usual joking – Josh’s continued breakdown etc etc. Donna wasn’t in the mood, but she smiled faintly, and they all just believed she was tired – as if you can truly be tired by just lying in hospital for a week.
Toby visited, preferring silence to actual chatter, and she found it soothing. She had gone to him during the campaign, finding that an hour in his unmoving presence was like time by the ocean – the complete calm brought calm to you.
Charlie brought music – and the President once, because the Service could restrain him no longer. It made her feel embarrassed – dragging the President from the White House. It was just an accident, she insisted, nothing serious. No one bought it. Not even Josh.
Mel told her she was loved, but the words washed over her. She liked solitude better, because there was no one to play to, to encourage the charade she was building. It’s not hard to maintain indifference when your belief is lying in pieces and you remember an image of your pain stained red with your blood, the mirage your mind had conjured, the last face you would see before...dawn.
Donna shook off her melancholy, focusing on the patterns of light playing on her wall. She wasn’t sure where they came from, but it was like cloud watching – and she remembered cloud watching all too well. Here, she could see Josh again – this time, however, he was smudgy and unfocused, as if lurking in the middle distance would somehow let him break free.
Break free from her.
She didn’t notice him come in, carefully wiping the tears from her cheek. She let him hold her, whilst she sobbed quietly, and he whispered soothing things and beautiful promises.
She woke with a heavy heart, wondering why her mind played tricks, why it couldn’t just settle on bringing up her faults one by one like it used to. Because Josh didn’t hold her and though she fought it and spat at it, that’s what she wanted above all.
~
Josh strode into the room, seeing everything packed and the wilting flowers thrown in the trash. She looked at him with a small smile but it never reached her eyes. Everyone had told him to see her, to try and break this enchantment, but Josh had never believed in fairytales.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded, and he realised this was it.
This was the moment where, uninterrupted, he could tell her. This was when
revelations happened. He would say how he was sorry, how that word was
inadequate. He would swear to never hurt her again and yes, she had every right
to shut him out, because hell, he deserved it. But, please, could she give him
a chance, because he had panicked that night and he knew how much she meant to
him. He loved her.
But he remained silent.
Donna stared at him, and wondered if he was going to say it. She knew how she would reply. She would say how she forgave him completely and that all she wanted to do was hold him and push those thoughts from her mind, because it was killing her and she couldn’t stay locked away in daylight – it hurt too much, and couldn’t he understand? She needed him, like oxygen, and this was love, she knew it.
But he never spoke, and she never answered.
In silence, they walked away, Donna’s bag in Josh’s hand, Donna’s heart beside the wilting flowers in the trash. He held out an arm to steady her, wanting to tell her she had three weeks leave and no less, until he realised she didn’t have a job and she could stay away forever.
This was how the fairytales ended. It just
didn’t get written down.