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The Schedule: Memories (Part 2 of 3)
Josh should have slept until nine or ten from sheer exhaustion, but the habit of recent years had him awake at dawn. He realized where he was and dutifully tried to go back to sleep until other people awake. His mind wouldn't cooperate and he gave up at 6:30, and dressed in sweats in hopes of an early morning jog. Josh wandered down to the kitchen in search of coffee. The kitchen staff and several secret service agents were there ahead of him. The agents greeted him and a servant got him a mug of steaming coffee. Josh thanked the woman and made polite small talk with the agents whom he knew slightly. He joined two of the agents for their morning jog. The agents made sure to take it moderately easy. It wouldn't look good on their records if they ran one of their charges to the point of collapse, and they knew this particular charge was special. Nevertheless, the First Lady chewed Josh out when he got back for adding to his exhaustion when he should have been recovering from it. Really though, that was more a matter of course than anything. Privately, she and Donna both thought he looked better for the exertion and hoped it would help him sleep that night. Not long after breakfast it was time to get dressed for the funeral. Several dignitaries as well as Charlie, Zoey, and Ellie were expected to come to the house before the funeral. Mrs. Bartlet had also invited Mrs. Landingham's great-niece, Beth, to come by. Beth Olsen was in her late-20s and was the granddaughter of Mrs. Landingham's younger sister. She proved to be a petite young woman with light brown hair and a quiet but determined way. When Josiah Bartlet had asked her to join him in Washington after winning the election, Mrs. Landingham had known there was no sense in retaining the old Victorian house in Manchester that she and her late husband had painstakingly restored over the previous twenty years. "Besides," Beth explained, "she said she didn't have much heart to live there any more." She sold the house and most of the furniture with it. Beth had come up from Boston to help her pack a lifetime of possessions into 52 boxes -- 'one for each week' -- and an assortment of suitcases, hanging bags, and odd-ball items that were to be moved to a small, 'ridiculously-overpriced', one-bedroom apartment 'not too close but too far' from the White House. "Aunt Delores wanted to rent a U-Haul truck and do it herself, but President Bartlet assured her that the U.S. Government could pick up the tab for the movers." Beth had been the one hitching a U-Haul trailer to her ancient ('classic') Volvo station wagon and driving it back to Boston stuffed with all the 'family heirlooms': a cedar chest that had belonged to her great-grandmother, a couple of quilts of said great-grandmother's, an old Christening gown, great-grandmother's china set that came with boxes of soap power in the 1930s, and an assortment of old linens and knickknacks. "Going through all her stuff with Aunt Delores had been fun -- like a treasure hunt. She told me stories about the history behind each item... Now I have to go through her stuff without her... I'm dreading it. But I have to clear out the apartment next weekend and the lawyer wants me to look for any important papers..." Beth slumped under the weight of the sad responsibility she faced. Twenty years ago, even 15, Dr. Bartlet would have volunteered to help clean out Mrs. Landingham's apartment. Since she'd become the wife of a Governor, and now the President, she didn't have that freedom. There were protocol and security issues with every movement. That torch had been passed. She glanced at Donna. Donna accepted the torch. "We can help. It's not something that anyone wants to do. Much less have to do alone. Josh, can look for any important papers. I can help you sort and pack. Maybe I can get Margaret to help... " Beth sat up and breathed a sigh or relief. "If it's not too much trouble... that would be... I --so-- don't want to do this. I feel like--" her voice caught in a sob and she looked away to compose herself. Mrs. Bartlet reached over and rubbed her back. Josh looked at Donna in the awkward silence and cleared his throat. "Sam might be able to help for a little while too. I'm sure there won't be a problem with my getting away," Josh glanced at the First Lady who's look confirmed that his schedule *would* be clear for however long he was needed, "but... I... I don't know about anyone else. It's liable to be a war zone by then." "I understand if you can't make it, Josh. I don't want to impose," Beth said. "Don't worry about it, Beth. Josh and Donna and whomever else can be spared will be there to help you next weekend," Dr. Bartlet assured the young woman. "Come on, dry your tears, you're about to meet the Mayor and a couple of City Council members who probably only met your aunt once, but they have to make an appearance." After meeting the local political dignitaries and the arrival of Charlie and the two younger Bartlet daughters shortly thereafter, they formed a mismatched motorcade to the funeral parlor. The press was awaiting their arrival and both Dr. Bartlet and Josh Lyman were singled out for statements. The First Lady made a brief statement and excused herself, offering up Josh Lyman as sacrificial lamb. Josh felt a little self-conscious at knowing that he was 'recognizable' -- as Leo had put it -- as an extension of the Presidency because he was 'the guy who got shot' along with the President. The press hinted around at wanting a comparison of his personal experiences and feelings of mortality when faced by the tragic death of a long-time Bartlet staffer. They asked about the President's health, the possibility of congressional hearings, and Bartlet's re-election chances. Josh gracefully and graciously sidestepped the political questions and reiterated the sad loss they all felt. No, Josh thought, the President could not have come here. Not after his announcement. The media feeding frenzy over that would have overshadowed the funeral. He politely freed himself from the reporters and went inside to join Donna. Again, Josh and Charlie acted as pallbearers, but this time with four men they'd just met -- distant relations or friends of Mrs. Landingham's late husband. One, a middle-aged man who had been friends with her sons back in high school... The funeral procession drove the 20 miles through the green countryside northwest of Manchester to the rural family cemetery outside of Chase Village where Mrs. Landingham was laid to rest along with her husband and sons, her parents and grandparents, and her memories of picnics by the brook. * * * The Bartlet girls and Charlie headed straight to the airport from the cemetery. Beth, Josh, and Donna rode with Abigail Bartlet back to the house, arriving about 3:30. Beth would stay for afternoon visitors paying their condolences and then for dinner before driving the hour trip back to Boston. Any number of politicians, including the current Governor, stopped by to pay their condolences. The Governor had never said more than five words to Mrs. Landingham -- and only two of those polite -- back when he was the opposition leader and constant thorn in Governor Bartlet's side. He was enough of a political wheeler-and-dealer to know his absence would be noted and could be taken as an insult to the President. Better to be safe and play both sides of the field until Bartlet was impeached. Beth and Abbey received their phony condolences with good grace even when they knew the person obviously had no idea who Mrs. Landingham was -- they just knew she was connected to the President. Josh and Donna kept watch and quickly whisked away the worst of the phony-mourners and political glad-handers wanting to use the occasion to 'get in' with the First Lady or Josh and, by extension, get the ear of the President. No... it was best that the President hadn't tried to come to Manchester. He could come up later and spend some time in quiet reflection out at the gravesite. Josh sighed and rubbed his tired back. He'd been standing too long, making nice to the local political gomers. He looked over to where one of the gomers distinctly appeared to be attempting to flirt with Donna. He was gonna put a stop to that right now. Not only was it 'his' Donna but also, it was damn unseemly to be trying to hit on someone at a funeral. He walked over and put his arm around Donna's waist. Smiling dangerously at the New Hampshire state representative he politely asked if he planned on running for re-election next year. The young representative got the message. He gulped, made an unintelligible answer, and fled. Donna smiled brightly and assured Josh that the representative would be no loss to the Party if he didn't run again --although she hadn't quite figured out which party that was... By 6:30 the last of the mourners and pseudo-mourners had departed. Dr. Bartlet, Josh, Donna, and Beth were able to sit down to a quiet dinner and finalize their plans. Donna offered to pick Beth up at the airport Friday night so they could work all weekend cleaning out Mrs. Landingham -- Aunt Delores' -- apartment. Beth turned down Mrs. Bartlet's offer to spend the night, saying she had to get back or her cats would get mad and sulk. Mrs. Bartlet accepted the excuse, figuring that Beth was really just ready to get away from the tension that comes from the constant awareness of the security and protocol surrounding the President or First Lady. She smiled and told Beth to have Donna and Josh bring her over to the White House for a visit next weekend if they had time. She gave Beth's shoulders a brief squeeze and sent her on her way. Josh and Donna walked her to her car, reintegrated their condolences, assured her they'd see her next weekend, and waved goodbye. As they watched the old Volvo drive away, Josh and Donna wrapped their arms around each other and Josh rubbed his hand up and down Donna's right arm. After the car was out of sight, they turned to fully hug, Josh briefly dropped his face into the intimate wedge between Donna's neck and shoulder and quickly kissed it. Funeral or not there was still a schedule that they were expected to follow, and only discrete public displays of affection were allowed. Lately, it had been difficult to even find the time for their allowed 5-minute goodnight kissing session -- not that they'd felt much like making-out lately. Death, disease, and fear for the future were proving not to be as romance inducing as they were made to look in the movies. They broke the hug and arm-in-arm returned to the library where Dr. Bartlet was waiting, blood pressure cuff in hand. "I've been waiting to do this all day. Come on," Dr. Bartlet said, gesturing for Josh to remove his suit jacket and join her on the sofa. Josh sighed and silently complied. There really wasn't any point in complaining about it. He just hoped she wouldn't personally give him a physical. It was one thing to have your boss' wife take your blood pressure or check out your scar, but her telling you to take a whiz in this cup was too much for a man to bear. He tried to relax and think peaceful thoughts so his blood pressure would be nice and low. It didn't work. "157 over 98." "It's usually lower the second time. I think I tense up and it makes it higher," he explained. "I'll try again in a few minutes. Still, that's way too high -- a lot higher than it had been -- and that's not good. Dr. Johnson said he tried to give you a physical last week and you put him off. I want you to find the time to get that physical when we get back." Dr. Bartlet said. Josh nodded his assent as Dr. Bartlet wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm again. "He'll find the time," Donna assured the First Lady. "152 over 92. Better, but no cigar. You still seeing your therapist?" "Not that much, anymore. Every other week now, and he thinks maybe I could do fine with just once a month... or he did...' "How are you, Josh? Are you okay with my asking that?" "I can leave if you..." Donna offered. "No, stay. I'm fine. I mean, with your asking. I'm doing okay. I get tense still around sirens... in motorcades... but I can manage. It helps to be distracted. I still can't listen to more than about two minutes of orchestral music, especially Yo-Yo Ma, but that's not just... there's too many other memories there." He looked away refusing to elaborate. They both knew about his sister and the fire that had taken her life and left him with what was basically his initial case of PTSD. The PTSD had really just resurfaced and been compounded upon by his own near death in Rosslyn. The fact that it was triggered by the music had been the clue for that. "Josh... did Donna tell you I didn't really give you anything last night?" "Yeah. I guess I was pretty tired." "I will give you something tonight, if you'd like..." Josh looked up at the First Lady, realizing that her offer was actually a recommendation. That she thought that their discussion combined with the funeral might cause his demons to wake in the night. And he was still in desperate need of rest. Josh realized that she was probably right. He nodded, "Yeah." "Go on and get ready for bed then. I'll be up in a bit," Dr. Bartlet said smiling gently, glad that Josh had readily agreed. "Yeah." Josh said turning to leave. "I'll just..." Donna said motioning towards Josh who stopped to wait for her. "That's fine Donna," the First Lady smiled. Josh and Donna walked slowly up the stairs and took their full five minutes to say good night. Then Josh went in to prepare to spend -- probably -- the next 12 hours asleep. Donna returned to the library to find Mrs. Bartlet going through her doctor's bag and checking that she had the items she wanted. She smiled in reassurance to Donna. "He'll probably sleep 'til noon then be groggy, but that'll force him to rest, and that's what we need him to do this weekend." "You sure he won't have any reactions or anything?" "No. He's had this before. He'll sleep soundly. No nightmares, I promise. I'll be back in a few minutes," Dr. Bartlet said taking her bag and leaving the room. Donna watched forlornly after her. She trusted Dr. Bartlet's judgment, as did Josh, but the memories of Josh being drugged into a healing sleep haunted her thoughts.... * * * The First Lady and Donna Moss ate breakfast; Josh slept. Dr. Bartlet and Donna took a walk in the garden; Josh slept. Abbey Bartlet and Donna played tennis; Josh slept. Abbey and Donna sat down to lunch; Josh still slept. "Shouldn't he be up by now? I mean... what if he's..." Donna fretted. "Relax. I looked in on him a couple of hours ago, Donna. He's fine. I'll check on him again after lunch if it'll make you feel better though," Dr. Bartlet smiled in reassurance at the young woman. Donna looked relieved. "It's just that-- " she hesitated. Mrs. Bartlet gave her an inquisitive look and encouraging sound. "It's nothing, really." "Donna..." Donna sighed, "It's just that when he was in the hospital... I knew they were keeping him drugged... making him sleep... It's silly... but I... I was just so scared that he wouldn't wake up. I guess I realized then just how much I loved him, 'cause I would have been one of those women who throw themselves on the funeral pyre. Only...well... not really, of course. I would think that someone would stop me even if there were a funeral pyre, which there wouldn't be... I'm sorry, I'm babbling..." "Donna, why don't you run upstairs and check on Josh so you can eat your lunch. I assure you he's sleeping soundly." "You don't mind?" "No, it's fine Donna. Lunch will keep another five minutes. Run along and make sure he's still breathing, already." "Yes ma'am. I'll just be a minute." Donna hurried up the stairs and stood outside Josh's room listening for a few seconds to make sure he wasn't already up and getting dressed. She softly spoke his name just in case he was awake and then carefully and quietly turned the doorknob. Peaking in she he was curled on his side with his back to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door a bit further and partially edged her way in the room. She noted the slow up and down movement of Josh's strong t-shirt clad back. She smiled and shook her head at her silly need to just make sure he was all right, but she felt better for knowing. Now she could relax and enjoy her lunch. Slipping back out of the room, she closed the door behind her turned to rejoin the First lady. Josh lived to fight another day. * * * Josh finally awoke around 1:00 and took a shower to try to erase the cobwebs. It didn't help. He fumbled his way downstairs and found Donna in the Bartlet's comfortably furnished family room about to watch a DVD. "Hey, Sleepy, look what I found," She said holding up A&E's 'Emma'. "Don't you know it by heart by now? You only watched it -- like -- 50 times while I was recuperating." He said making his way to the sofa and flopping down. "That was 'Pride and Prejudice' and 'Sense and Sensibility' we watched. And it was only twice. This is another Jane Austen. You'll like it. An older guy's in love with his young neighbor but can't tell her 'cause it might ruin their friendship. You'll relate," she said loading the DVD player and grabbing the remote. She returned to the sofa and sat down, pulling Josh down so his head rested in her lap. He put his feet up and settled in. Donna draped her arm down his chest and wrapped her fingers around his hand. Josh drifted off in a couple of spots, but for the most part the tale of Mr. Knightly and young Miss Woodhouse held his attention. Josh felt Donna stiffen when Mr. Knightly lashed out at Miss Woodhouse for her cruel rudeness to the dotty old Miss Bates. Her fingers laced through the top of his, he lifted them to his mouth and kissed them then nuzzled them with his chin. They both understood the repressed passion and that sometimes it lead to cruel words. Struggling with the early stages of reawakened PTSD hadn't helped either. She understood him. His cruel words had been her first clue that something was terribly wrong with him. Normal-Joshua would have made sarcastic remarks, but he wouldn't have deliberately and cruelly belittled her. Normal-Josh was arrogant and smug and hotheaded at times, but he was always in control his emotions. That was out-of-control-Josh. That was a wounded-Josh both crying out for help and pushing it away. She hadn't known what to make of it that night, but she started watching him after that. Most days he seemed fine, but she started putting seemingly unrelated events together. Then the music started and the pilot crashed, and it was becoming obvious to more than just herself that Josh was losing it. Donna started searching the Internet. She found her answer. She didn't know what to do though. To voice her suspicions might cost Josh his job. Then she saw the bandage and remembered another fact she'd come across -- to not speak could cost Josh his life. And Josh's life was vastly more important than his job. The movie ended and Josh rolled over on his back and looked up at Donna, all his smirking, smug protective coatings stripped off and his hidden vulnerability laid bare. "Donna... When I said that about your self-worth, I wasn't... I... I'm sor--" She stroked his hair as tears came to her eyes, "Shhh... you've done nothing to apologize for -- well, you have" she quirked a half-smile, "but not that. I knew that wasn't you. I knew something was happening to you then. It helped me figure it out, so..." "Yeah. I... I just wanted to make sure you realized I didn't mean that. I think you're incredible. You can do anything you set your mind to do. Like Knightly, 'I can't make speeches. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk it more' but... Donna, I would be thrilled, humbled, and unbelievably proud if you would consent... if you would do me the honor of marrying me. Donna smiled and stoked his hair. As the tears fell from her eyes onto his face, he sat up and pulled her into his arms. "Donna... you need to say something...you can't just... you know... I mean... I know you're planning the wedding and all, but 'you do consent?'" "'I do.'" Josh kissed her than pulled away smiling widely. "That's a relief. I survived White Supremacists, but I'd never be able to survive the White House if you decided to have no part of me now." "Josh... you know you're a day early. It's still week eight." "Leo can just deal with it," he said kissing her again. "So does this mean you're going to break more of the rules?" came a voice from the door. "Mrs.-- Dr. Bartlet!" Josh and Donna broke apart and stood up. "Answer the question, Joshua." "Well... not any important ones." "Remember you signed an oath," Dr. Bartlet reminded him sternly. He sighed and slumped his shoulders slightly, "No... I guess not." He looked down at the floor then looked at Donna and reached out to take her hand. "It's just... it was the right time to ask, even if it was a little early." "I'm sure Leo will understand when you explain it to him. Why don't you call him right now." "Right now?" he gulped. "Now." She said frowning sternly and patting the phone on the table. "Yes ma'am." Josh said walking over and sitting down next to the phone. As he dialed, Dr. Bartlet looked up at Donna, smiled and winked. Donna smiled back and walked over to Josh. She stood behind him and draped her arms around his neck. "Leo? I screwed it up... I broke the rules. I know I wasn't supposed to but--" "Josh! I told you to behave! You're in the President's house for God's sake. I'm gonna kill you myself. If you and Donna have been--" "No. Leo. No. Nothing like that. I... I asked her to marry me..." "What?" "I asked Donna to marry me. I know I was supposed to wait for week nine and that won't be until tomorrow..." "You asked Donna to marry you?" "Yeah... I'm sorry... Well...not really. I'm not sorry I asked her to marry me, but I should have waited. I swore to follow the rules. I signed an oath, and I broke it. It... it just seemed like the right moment..." Donna leaned down and nuzzled his neck. "Is Donna there now?" "Yeah." "Put her on, will ya." "Leo wants to talk to you." Josh said handing her the phone. "Hi Leo." "You sure you want to marry that doofus?" "Dr. Bartlet's here too. She caught him saying you could just deal with it." "Donna!" Josh practically screamed. "That explains it then. I take it she bullied him into this dumbass confession." "You got it." "Tell Abbey I owe her. How's he doing" Donna didn't answer. Leo sighed. "That bad?" "Not quite." "Put the doofus back on. Oh, and Donna... best wishes and all that stuff." "Thanks, Leo. And I'll tell her you appreciated it." She handed the phone back to Josh and went over to talk privately with Dr. Bartlet. "Yeah?" Josh said into the phone. "Congratulations, Josh. Your father would've been proud. I'm proud..." "Thanks, Leo..." Josh said softly the emotion causing his voice to break. "So... you're not mad?" "No, I'm not mad. But don't break any more rules or I'll lock you in that basement conference room for the next three months!" he growled. No sense in letting Josh know about the big lump in his throat at the moment. "I better go tell the President. He'll take all the credit, you know." "Yeah. Well, in all fairness, it is his house..." "Yeah. Josh... get some rest, will ya. You sound exhausted." "I'm still a little groggy from the... Mrs. Bartlet gave me something last night to make sure I... we'd been..." "Josh... you okay?" "I'm fi-..." Josh stopped and sighed. He'd learned better than to lie about this. "I'm not sure." "I'll have Margaret call the therapist and get you an appointment for Monday afternoon. In the meantime take it easy. Let Dr. Bartlet and Donna take care of you. Hear?" "Yeah. Thanks, Leo. For everything..." "I'll see you Monday." "Yeah. Good night." * * *
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