Spoilers: Up through "The Fall's Gonna Kill You"

Archive: Let me know where and please give me credit.

Summary: This is a post-ep for "The Fall's Gonna Kill You" from Josh's perspective. It stays in the same AU of my previous stories, listed below.

Note: I don't usually produce this quickly, but something about tonight's episode hit me and I just sat down and this came out. I didn't take a lot of time going back over it, so I'm just going to throw it at the wall and see if it sticks. --Mary

I guess this is becoming a post-ep series of sorts, but I have no idea where it's going, partly because I don't know what's going to play out in the next few episodes, so…

Previous stories are:

"I Don't Want to Know"

By Mary

God, I'm tired. But it's not so much from lack of sleep, even though I haven't been sleeping well the last couple of nights. It's a different kind of tired--like my brain has been moving much faster than my body and I'm just worn out. The last 4 days have been a blur. So much has gone on–a lot of which I don't even know. Ever since I found out about the president's…thing.

That's what he calls it. The president calls it "my thing." Multiple Sclerosis. MS. I don't have any medical books in my office, but I looked it up in the dictionary. Webster's says it's "a chronic disease in which there is scattered demyelination of the central nervous system: it may result in speech defects, loss of muscular coordination, etc." Then I had to look up demyelination. Webster's definition of the word, myelination, is "the change or maturation of certain nerve cells whereby a layer of myelin forms around the axons which allows the nerve impulses to travel faster." So my Ivy League education tells me that demyelination means the opposite–the degeneration of those nerve cells and loss of the myelin. That was enough. Of course, the president and Leo described it to me in lay terms, and before this is all over, I'm sure I'll know more than I ever wanted to know, but until that time comes, I had enough information.

I miss Donna. Sure she's sitting outside my office at her desk, but I miss her. We haven't been together since before I found out.

Before I found out. I can tell that I'm already thinking of things in terms of "before" and "after."

I spent the night at her place last Monday night, but we haven't been together since. Not that I haven't wanted to. After I found out, the first thing I wanted to do was curl up in her arms and cry. I wanted her to hold me. I wanted her to tell me that it was going to be okay–that we were going to do this…thing…and that we'd come out the other side.

But I couldn't tell her.

She knows that there are things that are part of my job that I can't tell her. She knows more than a lot of the administrative staff because she works for me. But there are things that I have to do, that I have to read, that I have to comment on, that I have to know, that I have to do through Margaret. The fewer people who know some things…

And that's how this started. First it was just the Bartlet family and the initial doctors, then a few more people, and a few more after that.

When we first got into the White House, Donna and I had a long talk about confidentiality. Because of my position, she would see things; know things that she couldn't share with anybody–not with her parents, her roommate, or the other staff.

We were already pretty good friends at the time and I was afraid that she would take it the wrong way–that she'd just think I was hiding things from her. But she totally understood. "You're the White House Deputy Chief of Staff, Josh. Of course you're going to be involved with sensitive things–secret things. I knew that–I know that."

But we haven't revisited this topic since the status of our relationship changed. Does she still feel the same way? Does she still know? We've been really good about not letting our personal relationship affect our work and vice versa. That's one reason that we've been able to be together without it being a big deal.

I look through the open door of my office and I can see her. She's sitting at her desk and doing that thing with her eyebrows that she does when she's worried about something. She's looked like that all day. Well, ever since she saw the fax about the Chinese satellite that is falling to earth.

She asked me about it after she got the fax from Larry and Ed. I heard her talking to other people about her concerns. Fortunately, nobody else seems too worried about it. The last thing we need is a panic started by the White House.

Well, that was prophetic, wasn't it?

Anyway, there's another thing that she doesn’t know. This happens all the time. Every 10 days something that was put into space, falls out. And that's something that I could tell her, but I have to admit it's been a little entertaining watching her worry about it. Maybe it's because I know that there are things exponentially larger to be worried about. But I also know it's because I'm afraid that if I told her now, I wouldn't be able to hold back the other thing. She'd know that I was holding back something. She can read my eyes–she would know. And I don't know if I could look into her eyes like that and not tell her. It would be lying to hold back the truth.

She already knows that something is going on. We both knew it a week ago. And I think she can tell that I know what it is now. I know she would never ask me to tell her. And that's why I can't look at her for too long. She can read it in my eyes but she'll never ask me to tell her.

So I guess I just answered my own question–she does still understand and now she also knows how much it's hurting me to not tell her–how much I want to tell her.

So, I've kinda been avoiding her since I found out. It hasn't been hard–I've been in meetings with Leo and Toby; Leo and the president; Leo, Toby and the president, etc. since I found out. We've been here late. There is a country to run, so we've had to deal with this outside of normal business. But I have avoided spending too much time alone with her.

That sounds stupid. Why would I consciously choose to not spend time with the woman I love–the woman I want most to share my life with?

I got lucky in that she had a friend in town over the weekend. Well, I didn't get lucky is the point. Her girlfriend, Stephanie, came to town and they did whatever it is that they do: they shopped, they ate, they gossiped. They also drank a lot of wine and called me late Saturday night. They were pretty goofy.

Steph said, "Josh, Donna misses you."

"Well, Steph, I miss her, too," I told her.

"Well," Steph slurred, "you could come over and we could have a slumber party!"

I could hear Donna giggling in the background before she took the phone away from Stephanie. "You don't want to come over here. We've had way too much wine and we've been gossiping. I couldn't trust Stephanie to keep her hands off you.'

"Donna, have you been talking about me?"

"Only the good things," she answered coyly, then burst in to another bout of the giggles.

There was some whispering followed by the sound of a door closing. "Donna?" I asked.

"Josh," she breathed.

Man, this is killing me. "Donna…"

"I do miss you," she said quietly. "I love you."

"I love you, Donna."

That's about the extent of our personal conversations for the last week. We come together each morning and evening behind the closed door of my office. We kiss each other, whisper our "I love you"s, then she straightens my tie, checks me for lipstick and we move on. We can't go on avoiding each other too long before it's going to affect our relationship. I know it's affecting me.

She'll know soon and then we can be together again. We can comfort each other. We can go through this–whatever happens–together.

Sam still doesn't know. Actually, he may by now. They were going to tell him tonight after he finished the SME speech. Toby wanted to wait. I hope Sam understands why. And I hope Toby is there to talk to him afterwards because I don't have the energy.

Toby has softened since I found out. He and I talked a long time that night. I think he was relieved that he had company–that he wasn't the only one of us that knew.

And CJ found out last night. I can't read how she's taking it. She had her first meeting with Babish this morning. But there was something unsettling about the conversation I had with her earlier tonight. Something she said seemed like she was separating herself from the rest of us. She kept talking about "you" and "you guys" when I expected her to say "us" and "we."

I don't know what that means, but I need to go try to get my brain some rest. Tomorrow will be here too soon and there will be more to do. Hopefully we'll be able to tell Donna soon.

Hopefully somebody else will be the one to tell her.