Title: Passing Through: Reflections (2/2)
Author: Sassy Susan
Category: Josh/Donna, Pre-White house, Drama
Rating: R for a little bit of swearing and some extremely difficult matters some of you may not like.
WARNING! This fic deals with suicide, if you'd rather not read it, don't. Since there really is no plot it won't affect the rest of the series.
Summary: Two people passing through, Angsty, Pre-Adminstration. Sequel to Passing Through. I suck at summaries.
Feedback: I will take feedback of any kind. Be honest, if you think it sucks say so.
Spoilers: I don't think there are any, but I'll be safe and say any eps that mention the first campaign
Archive: If you want to give it a home, you may do so. But tell me where.

Disclaimers: No characters that you may have seen on your TV screen are mine,
I just wish they were, they belong to Aaron Sorkin and his friends. I'm not
making money from this, just having a little fun. Please don't sue me because
there is no money, just pocket fluff and thousands of pounds of unpaid
library debt in the form of overdue book fines.

Notes: This is the second story in my 'Passing Through' series, yes it will be a series, and is the sequel to my original story. This particular one has no plot, it's just a thingy. It's Pre-Administration, meaning that Bartlet is still govenor and we're all still on the campaign trail. This~~~~~~~~ indicates the beginning and end of flasbacks. So Thanks to my friend and beta, Abby and to everyone who contributed something to this fic. Much appreciated.

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The cold splash of water hit him like a slap in the face and Josh was glad of the refreshment it provided. He pressed both hands to his skin, slowly pushing them up his face and back through his hair in a vain attempt to push the groggy feeling out of his head. They came to rest behind his neck and Joshua Lyman took this moment to survey his appearance, he found that, unsurprisingly, it was awful. Which was more than a fair representation of how he felt. His skin had paled considerably, distinguishing his stubble even more, dark shadows encircled his eyes, his hair was unkempt and his body sagging with exhaustion from many late nights and early mornings. Head pounding he stared ahead at his reflection, droplets of water falling down his face and dropping onto his shirt. He looked like hell and had Johnathan been standing next to him, he would've told him so.

That was the thing, Johnathan should've been standing next to him, they should've been doing this campaign together. 'Friends forever' John had said, 'Blood brothers' he'd promised, 'One day we'll run this country Josh...'. Digging into his pocket Josh pulled out his well-worn wallet, reaching in to the back he pulled a small, faded photo. Two young boys, no more than sixteen, gazed back at him, arms round each other's shoulder' and broadly smiling. One with a mass of unruly curls and dimples, the other with fine sandy hair, an elegant roman nose and strong jaw, they were clearly not brothers but best friends.

Josh could picture John next to him now, a few more lines but features still as classic and strong as ever. Hair much shorter and sharper and immaculate suit making him look much more the political player than Josh ever did. He could imagine John telling him that he should either pull himself together or get off the ride. It was short, it was sharp, it was blunt, but that was Johnathan. That was the way it had always been. When Josh got ahead of himself, Johnathan reeled him back again. When he got too full of himself, Johnathan took him down a peg or two. They were complete opposites and constantly played off the other's personality. That was the way it worked, Josh and John were friends for life always picking up was wrong.

Smiling sadly Josh looked down at the photo again, it had been taken, just a day after John's birthday, down at the lake. They had laughed and joked, had a couple of beers and made plans for the future. All the while there was never any sign, nothing for Josh to pick up on, no hint that the world as everyone knew it would stop turning and that lives would fall apart. Sometimes Josh was sorely tempted to throw the picture away, it had no meaning anymore. Instead of happy memories and good times, it was full of lies, hurt, betrayal and broken promises. A lot of shit he'd rather not remember.

Shoving the picture angrily in his pocket, Josh leaned over the sink and turned on the tap, throwing icy water over his skin and trying to rub it into every pore. Grasping the side of the wash basin he lifted his cold, drenched face to the mirror and met his own eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pushing the door shut and dropping his back pack, Joshua Lyman surveyed the odd and eerie scene before his eyes. Today his mother was not waiting at the door with her hello kiss, she wasn't there to ruffle his hair, she wasn't there to welcome her son home form school the same way she always did, the same way she did when he left the house in the morning. There was no warm cooking scents coming from the kitchen and no gentle jazz music coming from the living room.

'Mom?'

Suddenly she appeared from the kitchen, pulling the door closed behind her and rushing to envelope him in a strong embrace. He loved his mother's hugs, they were warm and comforting, they made him feel protected as if not even god himself could hurt him. He was no Mommy's boy, but he loved her with his heart and soul and wasn't ashamed to admit it to anyone. She pulled away from him and looked straight at him, eyes glazed and rimmed with scarlet red.

"How was you're day, Joshua?"
"Have you been crying?"
"I'm fine sweetheart."
"Mom, what's wrong?"

Josh looked up, past his mother as the kitchen door opened and closed again.

"Hello son."
"Dad, what are you doing home so early?"
"We need you to come in the kitchen a moment Josh."
"What's going on?"

His parents exchanged a glance and his mother took his hand and led him through to the kitchen. Two strangers turned and focused their eyes on him as he entered, and stood to greet him.

"Son, this is Detectives Ridley and Lewisham, they want to talk to you."

The men extended their hands and Josh shook them before taking a seat at the table. His mother took the seat next to him, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing gently while father stood behind a rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Am I in some kind of trouble? Did I do something wrong?"
"No Josh, you're not in any trouble. We just need to talk to you for a while, Ok?"
"Sure."
"Josh, when did you last see Johnathan Steiner?"
"At school yesterday, but he wasn't there today."
"We know."
"Is he in trouble? You haven't got him banged up or something have you?"
"No, you didn't see him after school? Speak to him on the phone?"
"No, what's...."
"Johanthan's your best friend right? Did he ever mention something was wrong, was he unhappy?"
"No, what the hell is going on?"
"Josh, I'm very sorry, Johnathan's dead."

The world stopped turning, and the sky cracked like glass as Josh's body went cold, neck hair standing on end and goosebumps lacing his skin. The Detective continued as the blood continued to fall from Josh's face, turning paler by the second.

"It was suicide, an overdose, painkillers and vodka."
"He left a note, you might want to read it. Part is for you."

A piece of paper was pushed towards him, a copy of the note, and outlined in blood-red ink was two lines.
'To my best friend Josh,
Live the dream.'
He could hardly hear what they were saying now, the steady beat of his heart rising to an ear-splitting pounding as the the shattered sky fell apart amd the pieces came falling to earth as everyone but Josh shielded themselves. Somewhere along the line the men left, leaving him to read the lines over and over.

The next thing heard was glass against wood as his father pushed a double scotch towards him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Josh?"

He whipped round his head to see Sam, leaning against the doorframe, looking as tired and disheveled as he did.

"What?"
"You've been in here 20 minutes what are you doing?"
"Just waking myself up."
"Well come on, we're waiting for you. The bus is leaving in sixty seconds and Leo says if you're not on it, you're walking back back to New Hampshire."
"Ok."
"You like hell Josh."
"Thanks Sam, right back at ya."

Turning to the door, he plucked the photo from his pocket one last time and stared at it for the last time.

"What's that?"
"Nothing."

Crumpling the picture in his hand, he tossed it into the bin and walked back to the bus with his best friend.
_____________________________________________________________________
The End!

 

 

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