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Cold Fog (1/1)

Rating: PG-13
Summary: Snow was piled up inside when she pulled her hand away.
Spoilers: Anything and everything.
Category: Josh/Donna.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and their universe belong to
Aaron, Tommy, NBC, and Warner Brothers. 
Archive: Yes, but let me know where.
Author's Notes: Second story back after a long absence. Let me know
if I've still got what it takes.

*

She closed her eyes and stepped away. Even if she lived a thousand
years, she would never forget. Four Christmases together. Four short
years. There should have been more. There should have been millions.
Shaking her head, she opened her eyes, letting the driving snow
assault her tearstained cheeks.

That first Christmas, he had barely known who she was, or who she
would be. He had argued that he was Jewish and shouldn't be
expected to remember certain dates, even if they were federal
holidays. She was still trying to prove her worth - still trying to earn
his respect - and so she had worked beside him as they struggled to
piece together the newborn Bartlet administration.

And that second year - her bedside table held the usual
accoutrements. There was a lamp, an alarm clock, a pair of reading
glasses that she like to deny a need for, and, more unusually, The Art
and Artistry of Alpine Skiing. She found it impossible to sleep, even
after all these years, without touching its mottled calf cover and
running her finger along the dark ink inscription.

Then after Rosslyn, she was delighted to have him for another
Christmas. It was only later that she realized how close she'd come to
losing it all. She spent that Christmas cleaning glass off the floor of his
still vacant apartment and returning home to see her Joshua asleep on
my couch. The only gift she'd wanted was his arm draped around her -
and she got it.

She can't remember exactly what changed during those next eleven
months, but that  fourth Christmas, preparing for re-election, she
wanted nothing do to with him. She had sat at home, in front of the
television and wondered if all those gomers she'd dated had plans for
Christmas dinner. Then she wondered if Josh was at work. She
struggled to put that last thought out of her mind.

Then her phone had drawn her away from the television and she was
unsure why Leo wanted to talk to her until he finally forced the words
out. She had run down the stairs and halfway down the block without
a coat or gloves or even a sweatshirt to block out the bitter winter
storm that had descended on the District. When she paused long
enough to hail a cab, she noticed she was shaking, but the cold didn't
seem to reach her. 

The hospital remained the same, even through puffs of white snow.
She could pick out the agents near the front entrance, and she
wondered if the Bartlets were inside. Not that she cared, for once she
stepped out of the cab, her only thought was to make it to Leo,
standing halfway down the walk, before she collapsed.

The words reverberated through her skull. Heart attack. She blamed
herself. She should have been there. She should have been at his side
every moment, watching what he ate, when he exercised, and how
well he slept. Instead she felt petty. She had let the MS come
between them. She had pushed him away. She had slept with Cliff and
here she was again, standing inside GW, praying to God that life would
go on.

She was certain someone had made arrangement, because she was
ushered inside Josh's room immediately. He looked fragile, drowning in
white sheets. She wondered how she had missed it - he had lost
weight, the bags under his eyes swallowed his cheeks, and worse, he
was motionless. Slowly his eyes opened, and she smiled softly,
crossing the distance between them.

"I wanted to take you out. I thought we could play in the snow." 

She followed his eyes to the window where the snow still fell, creating
a thick white blanket outside. Quickly, before she could change her
mind, she covered him with an extra blanket and opened the window.
The wind drove snow inside, covering the window sill and the floor
below. It would melt in a moment, but it would work for now. 

Taking his hands, she brushed her lips against his cheek, and wondered
how long it would take him to recover this time. She meant to tell him
she loved him, but his eyes drifted closed. Snow was piled up inside
when she pulled her hand away. It was later, when she was on the
plane to Wisconsin that she wondered if it hadn't always been like this.
She had loved him too much, and so she fled to protect herself.

For all the Christmases that had passed in between then and now, she
had always known the day would come when she braved the cold fog
of winter to return.

Her heart thumped against her chest, and yet enough doubts
lingered... perhaps too many, and so she stepped away from his door.
Shaking she held back fears of bothering him on Christmas, afraid that
another woman, a wife, would answer, afraid she would give away the
emotions of her heart without a second thought. She was backing off
the porch when she felt a hand on her back.

"Can I help you?"

The sound of his voice made her jump, and when she whirled to face
him, she knew her face held as much surprise as his own. The years
had been kinder to him that she had imagined. His hair was still an
unruly mop, although it was almost entirely grey, and his posture still
gave the impression that this man helped rule the world. It was as he
climbed the last few stairs to stand toe to toe with her on his front
porch that she noticed how stiffly he moved and how slowly. 

He smiled at her then, and reached out to touch her. His expression
was one of awe, as though he could not believe that she had come to
his home, still nestled in Georgetown, on this Christmas Day. His fingers
brushed against her cheek, and tucked a wisp of ash blond hair behind
her ear. She could still remember the shock of turning forty, and she
wondered if the candles on her cake had persuaded her to seek him
out. 

He wordlessly opened the front door, and she paused. This was the
moment of truth - if she gave in to her heart now, there would be no
turning back. Her mantra for years had been once bitten, twice shy,
but even fifteen years later, Josh had not transformed into Dr.
Freeride. Past the shadow of his body, she could see logs crackling in
the fireplace, and smiled. There was a small Christmas tree on the
coffee table, and she looked at him with a question in her eyes.

"I knew. One year you would come back."

Taking his hand, she stepped through his front door, and as his hands
slipped along her shoulders, peeling her coat from her, she shook her
head. She hadn't come back. 

She had come home.


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