Notes, disclaimers etc. in Part One

Originally posted between 17 and 21 December 2007.

Last time…

“There are some things you need to see – some things from your past about which I think you need to be reminded, and some things that may well come to be part of your future if you don’t learn the lessons the spirits are coming here to teach you.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in my asking if I can see them all together and get it all over at once?”

“Not really, no.”





~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~



Keeping the Spirit - Part Two



When Donna awoke again, it was with a start. She swung her legs off the sofa and sat up, rubbing her hand across her face as she recalled the strange dream she’d had. It been so vivid, so real – Donna could have sworn she’d even caught the odd whiff of the light perfume Mrs Landingham used to wear, but common sense told her that was her olfactory memory playing tricks on her. It was strange though; it had been years, really, since she’d had more than a passing thought about Mrs Landingham, so to have had a dream about her as a ghost, of all things was peculiar to say the least. But then, dreams often were peculiar, so…

She stretched and glanced at the clock - it was a little before one am. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep on the sofa, and despite having slept for a couple of hours she still felt rather tired. Donna yawned as she stood up, dismissing the slight feeling of trepidation that ran through her as she noticed the hands on the mantelpiece clock clicking into place on the hour. Walking over to the Christmas tree, she was about to switch off the lights when a small noise coming from the opposite direction made her straighten up abruptly. She listened intently for a moment, holding her breath – and yes, there it was again – sounding very much as though it was coming from the kitchen. She stood, frozen to the spot for a moment or two, her tiredness suddenly evaporating as she looked around the dimly lit room, trying to see into all the darkened corners. Then she noticed the strip of light showing under the kitchen door - yet she was sure she’d switched it off earlier. Swallowing hard, she took a couple of steps forward and – there were more sounds now – a thump, then a ‘clink’, then a muffled thud … still moving slowly, she reached the door and pushed it open, cautiously.

What the ..?

There was indeed someone in her kitchen; and she had heard the sound of cupboards being opened and the ‘clink’ of a mug being set down on the kitchen counter. But how the hell had he gotten in here?

“Josh,” she began, her brows knitting in confusion, “what are you - ?”

But that was as far as she got, because she suddenly realized that the man standing in front of her wasn’t Josh at all. Although… height, build, even his stance – they were so similar that for a moment, she forgot to be worried by the fact that there was a stranger in her home.

Then he turned and spoke. “Hello, Donna.”

Donna’s hand flew to her mouth and she stumbled backwards, bumping into the wall.

She couldn’t seem to form words. When he’d spoken her name so softly, her heart had skipped a beat; and then when he’d smiled at her, her chest tightened and she felt an ache inside so strongly that it almost took her breath away.

The man turned round to switch on the coffee machine and then back to face her. “Are you okay?” he asked, an expression of concern on his face.

“I - ” Donna straightened herself up and moved into the room, sinking down into one of the small chairs at her kitchen table. “I’m -” she swallowed in an attempt to regain her articulacy. Her mind was reeling – she could feel thoughts flowing back and forth, but couldn’t seem to hold on to any of them; it was as though they were grains of sand draining through a sieve. Then suddenly, something clicked into place and she remembered…

“The first is due at one…”

The dream…

But surely… Donna’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. This wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible, but – she shook her head in confusion. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t do anything except stare at this man who was so like Josh and yet so unlike him at the same time. Now she had time to look at him properly, Donna could see that he was slightly taller than Josh, built a little heavier; his hair was darker, flecked with grey and he was clearly somewhat older.

She continued to stare at him incredulously, telling herself that the conclusion she had drawn was utterly implausible – while at the same time knowing that it was the right one.

“You’re…” her voice was little more than a whisper. “You’re - Josh’s father.”

The man smiled ruefully and nodded. “Although I guess technically speaking, I was his father, but yes. Noah Lyman,” he held out a hand, “pleased to meet you at last.”

Still stunned, Donna took his hand automatically. “So, you’re… ‘the spirit whose coming was foretold to me?’”

He laughed. “Josh always said you had an amazingly retentive memory. Now I see what he meant.”

Donna raised an eyebrow, temporarily distracted from the fact that she was still seeing dead people. “He normally calls it a capacity for retaining inane trivia.” She frowned then, as she fully grasped what Noah had just told her. “Wait. Josh said that?”

“He did. Quite often, actually.”

Donna blinked. Josh had talked to his father about her all those years ago?

“Actually,” Noah continued, “I remember the first time he mentioned you. It must have been the day he hired you; he was talking about how, um - difficult - the Governor was being, and about the trip to Carolina to set up Illinois - and then suddenly it was all about this girl who’d turned up and had the guts to appoint herself his assistant.”

Donna smiled at the recollection. “That’s true. I walked in off the street, found a messy office where the phone didn’t stop ringing and - ” suddenly, she found herself once again fighting back tears – what the hell was wrong with her? - and she couldn’t go on.

She thrust those memories aside and took a deep breath. Glancing at the man – or the spirit – standing in her kitchen, she decided that the incongruity of this situation really did call for further investigation.

“I’m sorry,” she said, frowning. “I don’t mean to be rude, but - what are you doing in my kitchen?”

Noah raised his eyebrows. “I’m making coffee.” He flashed a brief grin, and Donna felt her chest tighten at the familiarity of his smile. It wasn’t as brilliant as Josh’s and there were no dimples, but his eyes… his eyes held the same warmth, the same humor, and she found herself entranced by them, just as she was – had been, she told herself firmly – by his son’s.

Collecting herself, she realized that Noah was still speaking.

“Josh told me he always had to make his own,” his eyes were twinkling wickedly, and Donna couldn’t help responding with a grin of her own. “So I thought I’d better do the same. I wouldn’t want to break with tradition, after all.” Noah picked up the coffee pot, reached for the mug he’d set on the counter earlier and began to pour.

Donna told herself this was ridiculous - impossible. She was standing in her kitchen talking to Josh’s dead father, who was making her a cup of coffee – and who had been sent here by a dead friend. This was without a doubt the weirdest thing ever to have happened to her – and if the rest of the night went the way she suspected it was going to go, the weirdness was only just beginning.

Noah added cream and sugar to the coffee and pushed the mug towards her along the counter. Donna stood and picked it up distractedly, cradling it in her hands.

Neither of them spoke for a while until Donna finally said, “So. You’re the Spirit of Christmas Past.”

Noah leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, ankles crossed.
“I guess I am.”

Donna’s brow furrowed in confusion once more. “Hang on though – aren’t you supposed to be the ghost of my Christmases Past?”

“Yes.”

“But how can you know - I mean we hardly knew each other. We only spoke on the phone those few times.”

The spirit sighed. “That’s true. But my son talked about you a great deal, you know, so I think that should count for something.”

“He did?” She took a sip from the mug – and then looked up in surprise. “How do you know how I take my coffee?”

Noah shrugged, off-handedly. “Josh always took it like that. I just figured…”

Donna dropped her gaze immediately, and focused her attention entirely on her cup of coffee in an effort to squash the almost eight-year-old memory that had just leapt into her mind.

“You brought me coffee?”

“I did – Starbucks’ finest.”

“But you don’t know how I like it.”

“I got it how I like it. I figured if I’m going to have to actually get the coffee, you can drink it however it comes.”

She shook her head. There was nothing to be gained by thinking back – despite what the spirit of Mrs Landingham had said. Donna wanted – needed – to be looking forward, to the life she was going to make for herself, not back to the one she was trying so hard to leave behind.

“So…” she sighed heavily. “What’s next?”

“Well, first,” Noah said, “you finish your coffee. Then, we’re going on a trip down memory lane.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “My wife and son both used to tell me I was alarmingly predictable at times.”

Donna took a few more sips, then set the mug down on the counter by the sink.

“’kay,” Noah said. “You ready for this?”

“Somehow, I doubt it.”

He sniffed. “I’m told nobody ever is.” They walked into the living room. “Wait – aren’t you going to tell me you need a coat or you’ll freeze to death?”

Donna rolled her eyes as she slipped on some sneakers. “I’ve read the book; I know I don’t need one.”

Noah grinned at her. “Right.” He reached for her hand. “Come on then.”

“Um -” Donna looked around, suddenly uncertain. “Just how are we going to get out?”

“What happens in the book?”

Donna arched a haughty eyebrow, her head cocked slightly to one side. “Now I know you’re messing with me. There’s no way you haven’t read it.”

“Busted.” He grinned at her again and Donna was struck once more by the familiar way his eyes sparkled when he smiled. “But you’re right, we can’t just walk out into the night from here; and -” he looked around the room, “I think if we tried to get out of the windows we’d probably get arrested. Fire escape?”

Donna inclined her head towards her front door. “This way.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~


She opened her eyes to find herself standing in a warm, brightly lit kitchen. There were some delicious smells wafting around, the counter was littered with bowls and dishes and there seemed to be enough vegetables piled on the chopping boards to feed several armies of rabbits.

Donna looked at Noah. “I hate to break it to you,” she deadpanned, “but my father didn’t hate me and I didn’t go to boarding school so I wasn’t left there alone for the holidays.”

He shook his head exasperatedly. “You really do like that book, don’t you?”

“It’s always been one of my favorites.”

“I know.”

“I used to read it every Christmas when I was younger.”

“I know that, too.”

Donna frowned at him. “You appear to know a lot of things – how I take my coffee, my reading habits …”

“All part of the service.” Noah smirked back at her – looking so incredibly like his son that Donna lost her train of thought for a second.

She shook her head as if to clear it. “Wait, so this is happening to me because I like A Christmas Carol?”

“No - ”

“So if I’d been a big fan of Pride and Prejudice, I could be standing here with Mr Darcy right now?”

“Again - ”

“Although I always preferred Emma; there was something about the way Mr Knightley always looked out for Emma even when he thought she was in love with someone else - ”

“Donna?”

“Hm?”

“You’re wandering.”

“Sorry.”

Noah cocked his head to the side. “So… do you know where you are?”

Donna looked around the kitchen again, listening to the chatter and laughter coming from the next room – and smiled fondly. “Of course I do. This is the house where I grew up. We lived here until I was fourteen …”

Noah leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “You were happy, growing up?”

Donna glanced at him as she began to make her way to the door. “Yes. Well, mostly, I guess. I mean, just the usual stuff, you know, worrying about not being pretty enough, or smart enough… ”

“Well,” Noah smiled. “I think it’s safe to say those aren’t things you needed to have worried about.”

Donna blushed. “I guess we were fairly ordinary, really…”

“It must have been nice.”

Donna saw a shadow flit across Noah’s face. “It was.” They both fell silent, as she recalled that a there was a part of Josh’s childhood that must have been anything but ordinary.

“I - ” she began, but Noah waved a hand.

“It was a long time ago, Donna,” he said softly. “We survived.”

Donna was trying desperately to think of something – anything – to say in response, when a shriek of delight burst from the other room and Noah nodded his head towards the open door. “Go on. Take a look.”

Although she knew no-one in the room could see her, Donna advanced tentatively, almost on tip-toe, a wave of nostalgia flowing over her as she looked at the scene in front of her. It was a tradition in the Moss household for the family to gather together in the morning to open presents – the children would usually still be in their pajamas, her mother would be bustling around, in and out of the kitchen, while her father looked on indulgently, collecting the reams of paper as they were torn off the gifts.

Donna looked around; there was her mother, her brother and her aunt and uncle and – she sucked in a breath – her grandma Sophia. Sophia had been the very epitome of an Italian grandmother; larger than life, quick tempered, fiercely protective of her family and a fabulous cook, she’d delighted in her grandchildren - and had of course spoiled her eldest granddaughter. She had passed away shortly after Donna’s eleventh birthday – and Donna realized with a start that she was looking back at the last Christmas they had spent together. She found herself choked with tears as she remembered how keenly her younger self had felt her loss, how bereft she had been at the realization that she would never see her grandmother again.

There was a noise outside, and Donna took a hasty step forward, her eyes now fixed on her ten-year-old self and her younger sister huddled together in front of the Christmas tree, surrounded by crumpled heaps of brightly colored paper and ribbon. With a squeal of glee, the young Donna jumped up from the floor and rushed over to her father, who had just entered the room, still wearing his coat and gloves, bearing a rather bulky and awkwardly wrapped gift, which was festooned with ribbons and bows.

Donna folded her arms and hugged herself tightly, not knowing whether to laugh or cry as she remembered how excited she’d been, having badly wanted a new bicycle that Christmas because she’d suddenly sprouted up a couple of inches and had outgrown her old one.

She watched the young girl she had been throw herself into her father’s arms, saw the look on his face – full of love – as he put an arm around her while struggling to keep the present upright with the other, and felt a warmth kindling at the pit of her stomach that she was shocked to realize she hadn’t experienced for some time.

“You have a wonderful family, Donna,” she half-turned at the sound of Noah’s voice, unable to take her eyes off the scene in front of her. “I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

She cleared her throat and replied softly, “I do. I really do.”

Noah turned her gently to face him. “Remember that.”

Donna blushed and looked away, not wanting to betray her embarrassment as she recalled the excuses she’d made – to her mother and to herself – for not wanting to spend a lot of time with her family over the Holidays.

Finally collecting herself, she told herself it was too late to worry about that now. All the reasons she’d given herself for wanting to keep her visit short were still valid ones, and there would be plenty of opportunities in the future for longer stays; other Christmases, other family gatherings…

“Okay,” Noah reached for her hand again. “Time to go.”

Donna was still watching her younger self pulling ribbons and paper off her new bike, aided now by her sister, and found it hard to tear her gaze away.

“Hm?”

Noah inclined his head toward the kitchen and started to lead her away. “Come on.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~


Walking back through the living room door, Donna was surprised to find herself not, as she’d expected, in the warmth of her mother’s kitchen, but instead, surrounded by the familiar hustle and bustle of the Operations bullpen.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She had no desire to be here; the place was filled with too many memories - the most recent of them not particularly pleasant – that she was determined to lock away as fast as she possibly could.

“Why have you brought me here?” she asked a little breathlessly, trying to keep the hostility she was beginning to feel out of her voice. She was standing just a few feet from Josh’s office, and the last thing she needed now was to have to face him and endure his demands for an explanation of her behavior. A shouting match in the middle of the West Wing would be just the thing to put her in a festive frame of mind.

“Donna,” Noah’s voice, coming from over her shoulder, caused her to start. In her state of imminent panic, she’d forgotten about him – and added to that, the way he’d said her name, so softly, so like - had made her treacherous heart leap for just a second, and she despised herself for it.

“What?” she snarled.

Noah just raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He’s not here. And neither are you. This is all in your past – remember?”

Momentarily confused, Donna frowned at him while she tried to figure out what on earth that meant when the sound of her own voice coming from somewhere behind her made her turn around slowly.

“Heimlich Beckengrüber on The Art and Artistry of Alpine Skiing?”

Donna advanced slowly, watching her younger self running her index finger up and down the spine of the book, puzzled, as she tried to work out why on earth Josh had chosen to give her such an odd gift.

“It's got a molted calf cover and original drab boards.”

“I don't know what to say.”

And she hadn’t. She remembered feeling a little put out – of course she hadn’t expected Josh to take any of her teasing about skis and boots seriously, but still… a book?

She watched as Josh shifted nervously on his feet. “I wrote a note inside ...” And then turned to herself again as she read what he’d written – remembering how her confusion had evaporated, tears beginning to well up in her eyes at his words and the sentiment behind them.

The older Donna stood stock still, as though she was rooted to the spot. This wasn’t fair. If the spirit’s purpose here was to make her forget Josh’s recent behavior towards her by forcing her to remember those times he’d been kinder, more considerate… well, it wasn’t going to work. She wouldn’t let it.

She couldn’t afford to let it.

But she had to admit that if that was indeed Noah’s intention, he’d chosen well. Josh had an uncanny knack for being able to say or do the most incredibly sweet thing at just the right time – and this had been one of those times. She might not have looked at the book for quite a while – but she could still remember every damn word in the inscription.

She bit her lip and turned towards Noah, making no attempt to hide her irritation. “You haven’t answered my question. What’s the point of showing me this?”

Noah shrugged. “That’s for you to figure out, I think. Let’s just say that maybe there’s something here that you seem to have forgotten.”

“Well that’s cleared it up for me, thanks,” she said bitterly, turning back just in time to see herself put her arms around Josh’s neck at the same time as his came around her waist. Try as she might, she couldn’t block the memory of how that hug had felt – his warmth and strength enveloping her as she’d allowed herself for just a second or two to enjoy the feeling of simply being held, the flutter at the pit of her stomach as she’d felt him drop his head and bury his face in the crook of her neck.

“Skis would have killed you?”

“Yeah.”

Donna watched her younger self clutching the antique book to her chest as Josh turned and walked away. God, how stupid and naïve she’d been then; just look at her – me, she corrected, that look of blatant adoration on her face making her want to grab the younger version of herself and shake some sense into her, to tell her to stop acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, to show her how pathetic she was for treasuring every crumb Josh had ever thrown her.

So, so stupid.

“Is loving someone stupid?” Noah’s voice, quiet, came from just behind her.

She swallowed hard, fighting to keep an even tone. “It is when there’s no chance they’ll ever love you back.”

Donna observed her younger self re-reading the inscription in the book, finding it harder and harder to remain unaffected by what she was seeing and remembering. It seemed such a long time ago, now - she’d been so young, so foolish, so willing to give without receiving anything in return.

Noah’s voice cut through her reverie. “Are you so sure about that?”

“I’m sorry – what?”

“You said it wasn’t a good thing to be in love when it was unrequited. Are you so sure he didn’t …” the spirit shrugged. “You know.”

Donna couldn’t help a bitter laugh. “Okay, I know he’s your son and all, but - ”

Noah interrupted her. “Look,” and pointed in the direction of Josh’s office. Donna turned around – just in time to see Josh reappear at his doorway and look at the younger Donna as she read. Her mouth gaped open as she watched him watching her, her fingers flying to her lips as she took in the look of tender affection on his face.

After a few seconds, he went back into his office, but Donna found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the spot where he’d been standing. For the first time since Gaza – no, before that – she allowed herself to remember the way Josh had made her feel on the rare occasions she’d seen him looking at her like that… picking up files from the floor of his office… standing in the snow with his coat wrapped around her shoulders… his face coming into focus as she regained consciousness in her hospital bed ...

Donna blinked hastily before turning around in time to see her younger self put the book carefully in a drawer and go back to work. She was struck suddenly by just how thoughtful a gift it had actually been, and how typical it was of Josh to have done something so unbelievably - perfect. And now, she couldn’t help but remember how what he’d written had made her feel; right then, for the rest of the day, the week… the Holidays.

Donna realized that Noah had moved to stand beside her. “I think you’ve seen all you need to see here.”

She blinked again and looked up at him, still preoccupied with thoughts and feelings she hadn’t allowed herself in – well, quite some time.

Noah nudged her arm, gently. “I think we should move on to another Christmas, don’t you?”

Donna nodded distractedly, but as they turned to walk away, memories of another, far less enjoyable Christmas began to crowd into her mind, memories that still had the power to disturb her.

She stopped walking. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

Donna took a deep breath. “Where are we – I mean, when are we..? ”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

“I just – don’t think I can …”

Noah shot her a piercing look, but he said nothing, and it struck Donna suddenly that she probably wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t want a reminder of what had happened – what could have happened – the following Christmas. “God, I’m sorry, Noah.” She looked down at her hands. “I didn’t think – I -”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “There’s more to see here.” Donna didn’t hear his whispered qualifier - “first” – as, out of the corner of her eye, she watched him wave a hand; and when she looked up again, the lights in the bullpen were dimmed, there was hardly anyone around and she realized she was no longer looking at the doorway to Josh’s office. Surprised – and relieved - at her reprieve, she found herself and Noah standing on the other side of her cubicle, watching Josh finish a call and hang up the phone. Opposite him, and wearing a festive-looking red and white sweater, Donna was reading from a note pad while he looked through some papers on the desk.

“What did you mean when you said – ‘it's not what it looks like’?”

The older Donna looked at her younger self in shock. She remembered having this conversation of course, but – had she really been that obvious? She winced at the note of hope she could hear in her voice as she asked Josh again what he had meant.

“What?” Noah was studying her intently from his position leaning against a desk on the other side of the aisle.

Donna shot him a startled look. “Oh… nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

Donna gestured towards Josh as he continued to insist that he hadn’t meant anything in particular, that it had just been something he’d said. “Just look at him, ducking the question. For once, I tried to… and he’s back-pedaling like it’s an Olympic sport. She turned to face the spirit again. “He’s never once - ”

Noah scrubbed a hand over his face. “What were you trying to do, Donna?” he demanded exasperatedly. “And what the hell did you want him to say? As far as he knew, he’d just caused you to break your plans for a romantic Christmas with your boyfriend at an exclusive hotel. He didn’t know that you’d have stayed with him if he’d asked.”

“What?” Donna had been watching Josh walk away and down the corridor
- but at that, she jerked her head around to face Noah, caught off guard by the sudden ferocity in his tone. “I was – I mean - he needed my help,” she spluttered. “The President had just asked him to practically re-write the Federal Budget over Christmas, so -”

Noah shook his head. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Then what - ?”

“If he’d asked you to stay with him, Donna. Not for work, but for him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she protested, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. “Of course I wouldn’t have stayed for - I mean, I was with Jack. He was smart and funny and considerate, and I - ”

Noah pushed away from the desk he’d been leaning against and walked over to her. “You were miserable.”

“I wasn’t!” Donna shot back – too quickly she realized, too late. “I just…”

“Oh, come on!”

Noah was looking at her intently, the unyielding look in his eyes demanding the truth - and she could feel the flush as it crept across her cheeks. “I wasn’t miserable,” she insisted, dropping her gaze.

“Okay, so maybe miserable was overstating it a little.” Noah sighed and scratched the back of his head. “But admit it – there were moments that weekend when you wished you’d stayed.”

Donna laughed, nervously. “What, a night of getting drunk and taking care of Josh over a weekend of - ”

“For the love of - ” Noah threw up his hands. “Would you just stop?”

Donna raised a weak grin. “Well, now I know where Josh gets his temper from.”

Noah actually rolled his eyes. “Stop it. Stop lying to yourself and admit it. Okay, so you’re pissed at him now, but back then, if he’d actually had the balls to ask you to stay with him, you would have stayed.”

“But - ”

Noah waved a hand, then took her firmly by the shoulders and turned her around. Donna could hear the sound of singing floating through the doors to the foyer as Josh walked through the otherwise deserted bullpen, making notes on a document he was carrying.

“Josh.” She swung her gaze towards the door at the sound of Leo’s voice. “Was I insensitive before about telling you Donna was gone?”

“No.” Josh half-smiled nervously – and Donna recognized it as the smile he usually wore when he was covering something. “What do you mean?”

“I don't know. I thought...”

“It's fine. Of course it's fine. It's great. I was feeling guilty, but now, this... is good. This, this... is better than good. It's the way it should be.”

“Oh, get it together, would you please?”

“I'm trying.”

Wide-eyed with surprise, Donna was aware that Josh and Leo were still speaking, but she wasn’t able to take in any of their conversation. With an effort, she tore her gaze away from Josh - to find Noah watching her thoughtfully.

“You’re a bright girl, Donna,” he said softly, “I just don’t get why you can’t see it. Josh is completely crazy about you.”

“It’s…” she stammered. “He can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“He never said - ” she insisted feebly, “he’s never done anything to -”

“Never?”

“No.”

“So getting on a plane with nothing more than a passport and the clothes on his back is nothing?”

“No! Of course it’s not nothing, but - ”

“Sitting by your bedside, holding your hand for hours – even crying – something he hasn’t done since he was eight years old - ”

“He… Josh cried?” Donna’s eyes widened further, her voice a mere whisper.

“He did.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“I – I don’t know what to say. I didn’t know.”

“No, you were unconscious.” Noah paused, as though he was weighing something up in his mind. “Did you know there was a chance you might not have survived? And if you had, that you could have been brain-damaged?”

“Yes. I - ”

“He was terrified, Donna,” Noah said, softly.

“Well,” she swallowed, trying to maintain her composure. “I’d imagine it’s not the sort of thing you’d like to hear about a friend - ”

“No, this isn’t hyperbole,” Noah insisted gently. “He was out of his mind with worry.”

Donna was stunned into silence, recalling how she had wanted so desperately to believe that there had been more to Josh’s flying to Germany than his concern for an injured friend. But when she’d returned home and everything had been much the same as before, she felt as though she’d woken up and was at last able to see things as they really were. She had determined then that it was time to abandon the hopes that, despite herself, she’d cherished for quite some time and to stop putting her life on hold for a man who didn’t want her in the same way as she wanted him.

But… Josh had cried for her? That was – astonishing. And to think he hadn’t done that since - until she’d been hurt? Donna didn’t cry often – not really, although she had to admit she had been more prone to tears since the accident - but there had certainly been times in her adult life when she’d cried or had been close to tears…

“It’s critical. The bullet collapsed his lung and damaged a major artery.”

Donna inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her mouth as she remembered how she’d felt that night – as though her world might just be coming to an end.

“You okay?” Noah asked solicitously, his hand at her elbow. Donna licked her lips and nodded slowly, unable at that moment to trust her voice. “Come on.” Noah inclined his head to the side. “There’s one more thing you need to see, and there’s not much time left.”

Donna took the hand he held out and they walked out of the bullpen and through the lobby, although she was able to take very little notice of her surroundings. Her mind was too full of everything she’d just seen and heard… Josh’s expression as he’d watched her from his doorway, his nervous smile at Leo’s questions – and Noah’s insistence that Josh could well have been – could well be in love with her - her head was spinning. It was all too much to process – too much and, clearly, too unlikely. Surely, if Josh had wanted her, he would have done or said something …

Lost in thought, her head bowed, Donna didn’t immediately realize where she and Noah were headed. His hand grasped hers firmly, and she kept pace with him until something made her look up and around her – and she came to a sudden stop. “No.” She shook her head, determinedly. “I can’t. Not again, I just… ” her voice tailed off as Noah turned slowly to face her.

“You can, and you will, Donna,” he said, firmly, but not unkindly. “You need to remember - ”

“Please,” Donna tried again as they reached the door and came to a stop. “I understand what you’ve been telling me, now – I have to remember the good as well as the bad, and -”

Noah shook his head. “I’m sorry, Donna, but it’s not just about that.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Then what is it about?”

“Letting yourself feel.”

She blinked. “What?”

“All your life, you’ve been able to feel as much for others as for yourself – sometimes more. You’ve made people feel better for having known you… I know for a fact there have been days when the only thing that’s gotten Josh out of bed in the morning was the thought of seeing you - ” Donna started to stammer out a protest, but Noah pressed on regardless. “But now, you’re losing that, Donna. You might think it’s weakness, being able to feel so much, but it’s not. It’s one of the things that makes you, well, you and if you don’t stop hiding from it, if you don’t stop trying to eradicate it, then you just won’t be you any more.”

Donna just stared at him blankly. She wasn’t doing that. She was just trying to protect herself, to do what she had to do in order to be able to move on without… without Josh.

“Okay – I understand,” she said quickly, even as she knew she really didn’t. “I’ll try – I’ll think about it and try to - ”

“It’s too late for that, Donna.”

“Too late for what?”

“Too late for you to be able to fix this on your own. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Because someone up there likes messing with my head?”

Noah swept aside her attempt at misdirection. “What exactly are you afraid of? You’ve lived through this. Josh made it; he’s okay, thanks largely to you, so why don’t you want to go in?”

Donna could feel panic welling up within her. What was Noah insisting she see? Her and Josh at the hospital that night? Back at his apartment after she’d seen him home? His – God forbid – his eight-hour marathon session with Stanley Keyworth? Josh had told her little about that beyond the diagnosis, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know more. It was too private.

Whatever it was, a reminder of that Christmas was the last thing she needed or wanted; if there was one memory which was guaranteed to sweep aside the detached façade she’d been carefully constructing over the past few months – it was this one.

“Because - ” she spluttered. “Because it’s in the past!”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the real reason, is it?”

“Because it - ” Donna foundered, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find something to say that would satisfy the spirit of Josh’s father.

“Yes?”

And then she knew there was nothing she could say that would get her out of this. Somehow, the ghost of Noah Lyman knew her as well as his son did – better if some of the things he’d been saying were any indication. So Donna gave in. She couldn’t deny this forever - and it was a pretty good bet that Noah already knew the answer anyway.

She released the breath she’d been holding. “Because it still hurts.”

Noah nodded. “There’s your answer.”

Donna looked up at him to find that his eyes, so like his son’s, were fixed on her unwaveringly - and she found herself both unnerved and strangely comforted.

“Okay?”

She puffed out a breath. “I don’t suppose it’d make any difference if I said ‘no’, would it?”

He pursed his lips. “Nah.”

Clutching Noah’s hand tightly, Donna squeezed her eyes shut and moved forward with him, feeling a strange, tingling sensation in her arms and legs - and a lurch at the pit of her stomach at the realization that they must have passed through the wooden door.

Donna stood still, forcing herself to breathe slowly – in and out… in and out… waiting until she had recovered herself sufficiently to open her eyes.

When she did, the scenario that greeted her was, to her surprise, not one of those she’d considered earlier.

“So, Donna.” Stanley Keyworth was saying as he opened a folder on the table in front of him. “How long have you been Josh’s assistant?”

A younger version of herself, sitting across the table from him answered, “About three years. Since the campaign.”

“And you’re friends.”

“Yes.”

“Good friends?”

“Yes.”

““Mr McGarry tells me that you’ve raised some concerns with him about Josh’s recent behavior.”

Donna watched herself twist her hands in her lap before she answered. “Yes.”

“Could you tell me about them?”

“I -” the Donna seated at the table paused and licked her lips before she replied. “I’m sorry, Doctor,” she smiled nervously. “It’s just… I don’t know you, and Josh – he places a great deal of trust in me and -”

“Donna. First of all, it’s Stanley. And second of all, nothing you say to me will leave this room. Leo McGarry called me here because he’s concerned about Josh and I’m here to help.” He shrugged and sat back. “That’s it.”

The older Donna remembered how her feelings had warred within her. On the one hand, she had wanted desperately to help Josh – but on the other, her instinct was to protect him and she had been wary of saying something that could compromise his position. In the end though, her desire to help him had won out.

The younger Donna took a deep breath. “Josh is… he’s not himself. He covers it well, and I don’t think most people have noticed, but he’s - different. I don’t think he’s sleeping well, if at all; he’s on edge all the time.” She smiled, briefly. “I mean, Josh is pretty highly strung most of the time, but this is more than that.”

“In what way?”

“It’s hard to … Josh works harder than anyone I know, except maybe Leo – Mr McGarry - and the President. He’s volatile, he’s incredibly smart, he’s funny. But lately, it’s as though… I don’t know – he’s still all those things, but they’re “off” somehow. I can’t really explain it… you see, humor’s like - a defense mechanism for him. But it’s as though his timing’s off.”

Stanley nodded and jotted a note on the pad in front of him.

“And now he’s just … quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“Believe me, there are times when all of us wish Josh would shut up more, but this… this is – it’s not him. He … doesn’t do quiet.”

There was a long pause.

“And a few weeks ago, he was …”

“Yes?”

Donna smiled nervously and shook her head. “No. It’s nothing.”

“Donna?”

“Really, it’s not worth - ”

Stanley leaned forward again. “Don’t you think you should let me be the judge of that?” he said softly. “If I’m going to be able to help Josh, I need as much information as possible - even if you think it’s not important. So. Tell me what happened.”

Donna had been picking anxiously at her skirt. “Josh is ,” she said at last, looking up, “I said he’s volatile. He yells and hollers, but he’s one of those people who’s quick to blow up and quick to calm down. Despite what he says, he doesn’t hold grudges - well, not for himself anyway – and he’s never … mean.”

She picked up and drank from the glass of water in front of her.

“But a few weeks ago… God, this is so silly… I had a date after work, but Josh had a meeting and wanted me to come back. And he was… he said - ” she stopped suddenly and waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter what he said, the point is it was nasty and – he’s not like that.” She glanced up at Stanley before dropping her gaze back to her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. “Not to me,” she added softly.

Donna was torn in two. Even as she was telling herself how naïve and stupid she’d been back then, she knew that what she’d said to Stanley all those years ago had been the truth. That while Josh could be remarkably tactless at times - he had never been intentionally cruel to her.

In fact, he’d treated her with kindness and respect. Sure, he joked and teased, but he’d never talked down to her, never truly patronized her – and she had to admit that he’d never really treated her like just an assistant. Yes, she’d done his filing and his typing - that was her job after all - but for the rest of the time… she had been a colleague – and a friend.

Until -

Donna dropped her head into her hands, vaguely aware that, in the room in front of her, Stanley Keyworth was still conducting his interview.

She heard herself telling him about the F16 and its pilot, how Josh had been asked to find out about him, and how unsettled he’d been at the discovery of their shared birthday.

And then – oh, God. Her throat constricted at the thought of what was coming next – her breathing fast and uneven as she listened to her own voice, sounding now as though it was coming from miles away.

“Robert Cano was a highly trained pilot. I’m sure you know the sorts of psychological tests and evaluations they have to go through. What happened to him - it wasn’t an accident. He didn’t black out or have a heart attack - he was alive when the plane crashed.” The Donna at the table looked Stanley in the eye – and the Donna watching inhaled sharply at the memory of that moment, when she’d finally allowed herself to confront what had been her worst fear.

“He committed suicide.”

Stanley’s expression didn’t change. He continued to look at the woman opposite him impassively as he asked; “And that’s your concern. You think Josh might be suicidal?”

Donna’s hand flew to her mouth as she watched herself start to cry silently. She turned to Noah, who was leaning against the wall, his arms folded – his expression unreadable. “Please,” she choked out. “I’ve seen enough.” His only response was to shake his head and Donna could do nothing but stay where she was, her own eyes now filled with tears as she turned her head back to the scene in front of her. The memories were flooding back unhindered now – and she remembered how she’d tried desperately not to make that connection, telling herself that as long as that thought had remained unvoiced, it couldn’t be true and she could pretend… but hearing it – her deepest fear given voice – then as now; she didn’t think she could stand it.

She was wrenched back to the conversation as the younger woman at the table suddenly found her voice. “No!” she sobbed, slamming her hand down violently. “No! He wouldn’t – he couldn’t - ”

And then the tears were rolling, unchecked, down the younger Donna’s cheeks as the elder remembered how scared she’d been. A few short months before this, Josh had almost died – the result of a stray bullet meant for someone else – and then, the thought that he’d been so broken, so close to the edge as to have contemplated, even for a second, that there might be only one way to make the pain go away… she recalled how finally saying the words had made her feel physically sick.

“Donna?”

Stanley’s voice, soft but firm brought both Donnas back to themselves. The younger version took a tissue from the box his assistant had just handed her.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, “it’s just… Josh has gone through a lot, you know? He’s lost so much… and now… ” she gulped, her tears beginning to abate, “it’s almost as though he’s losing himself, and I can’t bear it.”

Donna was stunned at her own words – how could she have forgotten..? What she’d said about Josh… Noah had as good as said the same thing about her. Was this what he’d meant - was she losing herself?

She turned to Noah, fighting hard to force back the encroaching tears.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely a whisper, “no more. Take me back. Please. Please…”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~


Part Three


And if you want to read my take on what happened during the rest of Donna's interview with Stanley Keyworth - Bleak Midwinter.