Rating: R
Category: angst/drama/romance
Pairing: S/D
Spoilers: SGTE/SGTJ, ITSOTG, Noel, 2C
Summary: The sudden reality of what they did was nothing compared to the reality of why they did it, but regretting their imagined betrayal would not make life any less cruel, or any more bearable.
Disclaimer: West Wing is not, never has been, and never will be mine.  I’m only borrowing...
Notes: written for the October (2001) State of the Union list challenge.  This is not my best work, but I wanted to make the deadline...*sigh*...you have no idea how much the perfectionist in me (...that would be all of me...) is rebelling right now.
 

 It takes a lot to completely shatter one’s perceptions of reality, of truth, of life, but it is conveyed in an instant.  He always thought it was ridiculous that one word, one glance, one moment, frozen forever in time, could negate everything you know, and think, and hope, and live for, whether for good or ill, but he knows too well that that is exactly how it works.

 One second, you have a home, a fiancee, a brilliant career, and – in just one short month – a partnership.  The next, you are left with a few boxes, a ring, Josh, the Real Thing, and the greatest adventure of your life.

 One second you have two loving parents.  The next, you find that your father has betrayed you for most of your life, and you curse him for not being the man you thought he was two seconds before.

 One second, you are flying high from hearing the President speak, content with all the world.  The next, you find yourself lying on the ground as glass shatters around you and gunfire echoes in the night.

 One second, you don’t even suspect that your best friend is not whole, and hasn’t been for a while despite his denials.  The next, he tells you that music is sirens, the nightmares never stop, and he tried to ignore it all until his hand shattered the window.

 One second, you are worried about the funny, the perfect transitional phrase, if you did something to cause Toby’s current melancholy, or the reason behind the haunted look you see in your best friend’s eyes – but you shrug it off, because if it affected you, they would have told you; there are things you don’t get to know, and this must be one of them.  The next, you are reeling from the shock of the only two letters that exist in your head anymore – MS – and you hope no one asks you to speak or write or even think until they no longer crowd out all the other knowledge you possess, or thought you did.

 One second, it’s answer B, and you wish you could cry.  The next, you are filled with a joy that is tempered at that moment only by the phantom weight of a coffin on your shoulder.

 One second, you think that everything is finally getting better, and you dare yourself to hope for four more years of these people you love with all your heart – despite both their faults and your own.  The next...the next you find yourself waking up with your arms wrapped around a naked Donna, and the sudden shock of it is replaced too soon by the ache you feel in muted tones throughout your body, and sharply in your heart, as reality comes rushing back and your momentary illusions shatter around you.

*****

 He’s still not sure how it happened.  He knows...he knows how it happened, remembers hearing the words that he had already prepared himself to hear once before, not so long ago -- just over a year -- remembers that those words belonged to then and not to now, to that anguished time when there was nothing to do but pace, and wait, and try not to fall apart.  He remembers the way his hands shook, shook all that dreadful night, how he wasn’t able to hold more than a fleeting thought in his head, how he stood behind a wall of glass and saw a surgeon hold his best friend’s heart in his hand.  He remembers the sick feeling that twisted his stomach when he first saw Toby, cradling Josh in his arms as dark, red blood flowed out onto the pavement heedless of the hands attempting to hold it in, the incredible irony that Josh could remember Gage Whitney as they wheeled him into the emergency room, the incredible pain that washed over him when he was sent to a waiting room and could not follow any longer.  He remembers seeing his own life flash before his eyes as he observed the surgery, and knowing that if not for Josh he would not be anything close to the man he had become.  He remembers that he did not think of himself, and how close he had come to death as well, until later when he began to jump at loud noises and wake up screaming in the middle of the night.  And now...he remembers that those words fit not with the present but with the past, and they must, they have to be, lying to him.  He looks at them, uncomprehending, not able to reconcile the words which came from their mouths with the meanings those words held.  They say it again.

Josh is dead.

 He looks at the tears in Leo’s eyes, the deep sorrow in the President’s.  He sees the shock on Toby and CJ’s faces.  He hears Donna’s whispered denial, fierce and brittle, pleading eyes turning to him to take it away.  He can’t.

Josh is dead.

 Someone explains what happened, but he doesn’t really hear it.  CJ, in a slightly hysterical voice, asks if they’re sure.  They are.  The President wants to call Josh’s mom, and asks Donna for the number.  She says it automatically, without thinking, eyes never wavering from a random spot on the far wall.  Sam sees a tear roll down Toby’s face before he bows his head.  He still doesn’t quite believe the words, but they echo in his head.

Josh is dead.

 Charlie walks in with a message for the President, but stops mid-sentence as he realizes no one is listening.  He waits, slightly unsure if he should continue or if it would be best to retreat.  Sam hears Toby say that something’s happened in a way that means to us, and he watches as Charlie completes his mental tally, finds the senior staff short one member, and says Josh’s name in a way that is both disbelieving and plaintive.  The voices of the others catch in their throats, unwilling to speak, and Sam finds himself staring Charlie in the eye as his mouth forms the words that his mind still cannot grasp.

Josh is dead.

 Then the world seems suddenly to sway beneath him and he finds himself falling more than sitting on the couch behind him.  He knows that they are speaking to him, but he finds that he cannot hear them – he can hear only the words which slipped from his tongue so easily.

Josh is dead.

Josh is dead.

Josh is dead.

 Donna sits beside him, and he takes her hand in his, clinging tightly as he sees his own emotions reflected in her eyes.  She does not cry.  It is a shock too deep, too real, too incomprehensible...too new.  CJ stifles a sob to ask quietly about a press statement, and he looks up at her in shock.  Leo answers.  Toby sighs, running his hands over his face, and he and CJ go into Leo’s office to work something out.  Sam still can’t think.  He’s not sure what happens next, but after a while he finds himself being sent home, and he and Donna leave the Oval, still hand in hand.  They continue that way, walking swiftly past busy staff and assistants, passing by an oblivious bullpen.  They leave, walking without thinking, until they find themselves outside Sam’s apartment building.  He lets them in and immediately turns on the television out of habit.  CJ is just finishing her statement and he feels like someone punched him in the gut.  He can feel Donna trembling beside him and he draws her closer, pulling her into a half-hug which still allows her to see the tv.  He can see the way that CJ is struggling to keep it together, and he knows that he never could have done it.  The press corps is unusually quiet, polite and mournful, until a rookie manages to shout a question about the new Deputy Chief of Staff.  Sam screams, flings the remote at the screen, and it goes black, but not before he sees CJ bring a trembling hand to her face to wipe the sudden tears from her eyes.

Josh is dead.

 And suddenly it is all too real.

*****

 He looks into her eyes, and sees a mirror of his soul.  Control, reality, they are slipping, and the only thing that stands between himself and nothingness is her.  She looks at him, and something is communicated.  Desperation suddenly replaces despair, and their first kiss is hungry, frantic, an explosion of pent-up emotion.  He loses track of time, finding himself suddenly tumbling onto his bed with her, clothing discarded.  There is nothing slow, nothing beautiful, nothing typically intimate in the way they explore one another, need one another, but it is somehow intensely personal.

 He presses his mouth against hers and he thinks of yesterday’s senior staff meeting, or a late night on the campaign trail, or the Inaugural ball, or when he first met Josh, or how his heart soared when Josh came back from Nashua with his bad poker face.

 Donna runs her hands down his back and he struggles to breath through his sobs, hearing the gunshots, seeing Josh bleeding in Toby’s arms, watching his unusually still body beneath the surgeon’s blade, imagining the turmoil, frustration, and rage as Josh’s hand shattered the window, picturing him now – pale and unmoving, no smirk upon his face, no light in his eyes.

 His hands and mouth roam along expanses of pale alabaster skin, and he imagines the pride with which Josh would have introduced her – Mrs. Joshua Lyman – after their wedding.  He sees that she will never bring Josh coffee, and that the banter will only improve with intimacy.  He sees a precocious, curly haired boy and a saucy blond girl, clamoring for the attention of Uncle Sam, or Grandpa Jed and Grandpa Leo.

 He kisses the trails left behind by her tears, and tastes the salt.  He hears her moan against him, and knows that it is as much in sorrow as in pleasure.  He presses into her, needing to stop the feeling that he is plummeting from a cliff with no end, and he knows that she feels it too, and is thinking not of him, but of him.  It does not matter; in fact, he wishes that she could have the one she wants.  They continue, clinging to one another almost to prove that they are still alive, until she shudders around him and cries out for Josh.  Hearing her say his name, when he knows that she will never hear him answer again, causes sorrow to push him over as well, and he collapses at her side.  He feels completely spent, and utterly hollow, falling asleep swiftly, deeply.

Josh is dead.

*****

 He lies there, awake, lost in his thoughts.  He doesn’t want to wake her because he can see from his clock that they have slept for only two hours, and the escape that sleep provides is all too precious.  He doesn’t want to hurt her, either, and he knows that as soon as she awakens...she will feel as he did.  Lost.  Aching.  Bereft.

 He feels ashamed, as well, guilty that he was not strong enough, that he did not fight his impulse, that he had taken her when she belonged to another.  They had been destroyed, shocked and heartbroken, and he had used her without even realizing it.  He couldn’t soothe away her fears, could not lessen the stabbing pain that he felt so clearly, could not take it all away, he could not even think.  But they had acted.  He knows, in a way, that it was a decision mutually reached, though neither had thought, but he could not help but be consumed by guilt and feelings of betrayal.  She, surely, was not responsible, and he did not want his presence to cause her more pain.  He wanted to offer comfort, though he wasn’t sure how.  Though perhaps...perhaps he was already offering enough – himself – and she had done the same.  He felt her warmth acutely, was soothed by her steady breath against his cheek, was grounded by the knowledge that neither had to be alone.

 After they had fallen asleep the first time, exhausted both physically and emotionally, he slipped swiftly and thankfully into a dreamless void but was awakened by her screams.  It had taken a minute for it to register who was in his bed with him, and why, but then they had clung to one another once more as she sobbed, heart racing and body trembling from her nightmare.  He held her until she slipped back into sleep, and longer, needing to hold onto this woman who trusted the safety of his arms when she lost her own considerable strength.  He thought of that, now, and of how his guilt would serve no purpose but to cause more pain.  Maybe she would forgive him, or maybe she would hate him, but whatever she felt would be real.  One thing he knew was that, oddly enough, he didn’t feel uncomfortable.

 The phone rang.  Sam disentangled himself carefully and slid to the far end of the bed.  He picked up the receiver and his voice cracked from sleep and disuse.  “Yeah?”

 “Hey...it’s Toby.  Are you okay?”

 That was a stupid question.  He knew that Toby realized it, too, but it wasn’t worth the effort to point it out to him, and he let his silence speak for him.

 He heard Toby sigh in a way that betrayed his weariness, and his sadness.  “Do you know where Donna is?”

 “Yeah.  She’s here.  She’s...sleeping.”

 “Good....good.  We were worried, since she didn’t go home.  Uhhh...the President and Leo talked to Mrs. Lyman, and she’ll be here in a few hours.  I know....”  Toby sighed again, uncharacteristically short on words.  “Can you come in soon?  We have some things to go over, and then we thought that maybe you – and Donna – could pick her up and bring her back to the House.  Okay?”

 A pause at the thought of Josh’s mom, all alone in the world now, and then, “Yeah.  Give me some time, though.  I’ll be in when I can.”

 “Yeah...I...okay, Sam.”  He seemed like he wanted to say more, and Sam waited, but nothing else came.

 “Bye, Toby.”

 “Yeah.”

 Sam hung up the phone with a deep sigh, and turned to look at Donna once more.  He crawled over to her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead and sliding his arms around her as he contemplated whether to lay there with her or take a shower.  She answered the question by stirring in his arms, sleep fading as she mumbled into his shoulder.  He willed her to go back to sleep, but she had never taken orders well and her eyes, still bloodshot and swollen from crying, fluttered open.  The shock in her eyes lasted only fleetingly, and then she ran a hand through his hair and rested it on his cheek.  She seemed remarkably calm.

 “It wasn’t a nightmare, was it?”

 He wanted, more than anything, to be able to lie to her.  “No.”

 “Josh is dead.”

 “Yes.”

 She rolled over so that he could no longer see her face.  He heard her sigh, and ran his hand lightly down her bare arm.  She didn’t flinch.  He figured that he should apologize now, before she could try to leave.

 “I’m sorry that I...I shouldn’t have.  I wasn’t thinking and – ”

 “Don’t apologize, ” she said softly.  “It...it kept me alive, I think.  It was real, concrete...like it was the only thing tying me to reality, without the...the pain of that reality.”  She sighed and turned back to face him, eyes searching, “Does that make any sense?”

 “Actually...yeah.  Yeah, it does.  But I used you, Donna, and it would be okay if you – ”

 She silenced him with a soft kiss, snuggling deeper into his arms.  He could feel her warm breath on his shoulder, and he shuddered at the thought that Josh would never lie beside her like this, would never hold her in his arms.  And though he knew the answer all too well, he couldn’t help but ask.

 “Did you and Josh ever...?”

 “No.”

 “He loved you, you know.  Completely.  Even though I knew it was better for you two to stay away from one another, I always wished that he would give in.  Sometimes...I honestly don’t know how he held back.  You drove him crazy, and he adored you.  And every time you went out with a ‘local gomer’ instead of staying with him – man, he would rant about how they weren’t good enough for you, how he didn’t know how you could waste your time on them.  In his eyes, he didn’t quite measure up either, and it scared him...not that he would ever admit it.”

 “How could he...?  The man has – had – enough arrogance and ego for half the city!  Deputy Chief of Staff to the President of the United States!  I dropped out of college to support my loser boyfriend, I don’t know half as much as you guys...”

 “You were his vision of perfection.  He told me, once, that you reminded him of his sister.  I don’t know how much he told you about Joanie, but it wasn’t that he said that...it was the way he said it.  He had just finished explaining some apparently exasperating thing you did, and he said, ‘she makes me insane, just like Joanie,’ and he had that look in his eyes.” He took a breath, then continued, “He idolized her.  They bickered and fought like normal siblings, but he loved her fiercely, completely...I wish I’d known them, then.”

 Sam saw Donna’s lips curl into a smile at the thought of a young Josh and Sam.  “Can you imagine the amount of trouble the two of you would have gotten into?  You’re bad enough now, and you work for the President!”

 “Yeah, but it would have been worth it.  I mean, it’s not like our parents could have grounded us indefinitely...”

 “Uh huh...I see.  And I bet you were a good kid, too – always offering to help, not starting any fights, smartest kid in the class.  Josh was probably a little more daring, still pretty decent.  But put the two of you together...”

 Sam chuckled lightly, visions of treehouses, camp outs, and pranks in his head.  It was strange how easy it was to act like he and Donna lay beside each other every morning, discussing their love – his brotherly, hers as beloved – for Josh.  It was almost as if they could forget...but if Josh were alive, his assistant would not be naked in Sam’s bed, and Sam would not be feeling the stabbing pains in his heart that the wishful thinking barely diminished.  It was such a contradiction.  He sighed heavily, and it carried the weight of a man who was trying to fight off both the outside world and his inner turmoil.

 “Sam?”

 “Yeah?”

 “I don’t want you to feel bad – worse – than you already do.  It’s strange how normal this seems...you and I...it’s almost...”

 “Comfortable, but surreal.”

 “Yeah...but as soon as we get up – ”

 “I know.”  He leaned in, kissing her shoulder softly.  “This feels so...oddly normal.  I don’t want reality to come back full force, I feel it enough already.  And we – God, Toby called, just before you woke up.  They need us, probably more to reassure themselves that we’re still here than for actual work, and then later we have to go to the airport and...” His voice cracked and he paused, trying to gather his thoughts.  “She’s all alone.  She outlived her husband and both of her children.  I can’t even imagine.”

 “She’s strong, though.  And she still has you.  When Josh was in the hospital, and she came down, I saw the way she hovered over you, worried that you weren’t sleeping or eating...you are still her family, Sam.”

 “I’m not nearly enough.  I love her.  I mean, she’s a wonderful woman and Josh, when you could get him to admit it, thought the sun rose and set on her, but I am not nearly enough.”

 Donna was silent, unable to respond to the note of despair that Sam knew she could hear in his voice.  He couldn’t stop the tears that came to his eyes, or the sobs which he tried to choke back.  Donna held him tightly, rocking him like a child as he leaned against her.  He could feel her own tears dropping to his face, and the sounds she made were muffled against his hair.

 They clung to each other, the only source of support or comfort they had, secure in the knowledge of one another, in the solidity of their presence.  And it might not have been love which brought them to this place, at least not romantic love, but the reality of what they did was nothing compared to the reality of why they did it, and regret would not make life any less cruel, or any more bearable.  They had each other, and for now, that was exactly what they needed....