Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and no copyright infringement
is intended.
Spoilers: "Noel"
Rating: PG-13 for references to violence
Summary: Josh and Toby talk about their experiences
Sharing
"You okay?"
Josh jumped at the soft voice very near his ear. It was
Christmas Day and there should not have been anyone here at the
White House. Josh had been roaming around his apartment, but it
was just making him restless and edgy. He didn't dare call Donna
and ruin her Christmas; he owed her so much already. So he had
come into work, bringing coffee and cookies to the poor souls who
had to work on the holiday. He should have expected Toby to be
there; Toby didn't celebrate Christmas, either.
"I'm okay."
"Really?"
"Just drop it, please?"
"Okay."
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Working. I took Hanukkah off, so I'm a little behind on my
reading."
"Oh. Happy Hanukkah."
"Thank you. Happy Hanukkah to you, too." Toby said, then
gestured towards his office. "I have a feast of goodies in my
office if you want some."
"What kind of goodies?"
"My mother sent me a care package." Toby glared at Josh, daring
him to make a comment. "She's a good cook."
"I might be interested." Josh said cautiously, thinking of the
last care package Toby had received. Mrs. Ziegler was going to
be praised in Heaven for her cookies.
**
"You were just going to eat these all by yourself?" Josh said,
around a mouthful of pfefferneuse.
"Of course not." Toby retorted, taking a drink of eggnog, well
laced with rum. "I was going to leave little packages on
everyone's desk."
"Toby, the Jewish Santa Claus." Josh snickered. "Your mother
probably knows you do it. She sent enough for an army."
"She makes enough for an army on a daily basis." Toby replied.
"I think half of Brooklyn comes to visit during the High Holy
days. And she wonders why I moved to Washington."
"Toby, I don't think this is kosher." Josh picked out a
mouthwatering meat pie. "I mean, aren't these usually made of
pork?"
"Everything is kosher." Toby assured him. "She changed to
recipe."
"Can you do that with holiday treats?"
"Nobody seems to notice the difference." Toby shrugged. "I'm
beginning to think neither one of us are going to get any work
done."
"I wasn't really expecting to." Josh said, growing quiet. "I
just had to get out of my apartment and nothing's open on
Christmas."
"How did last night go?"
"Toby..."
"If you don't want to tell me, fine. But you looked like you
were freaking out during the concert. And I know Leo had you see
somebody last night."
"Yeah." Josh ran a hand through his hair. "I did kinda freak
out during the concert. I think I've been quietly freaking out
since the shooting."
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?"
"Uh. Yeah." Josh nodded.
"What triggers the panic?"
"Music. Toby, how do you know...?"
"For me, it's birds." Toby said calmly. "That's why I don't go
outdoors if I can help it."
"Wait a minute. You have PTSD?"
"It wasn't called that, but yeah." Toby poured more eggnog and
added a splash of rum to it. "I think it was called Vietnam
Vet's Syndrome or some such thing."
"You were in 'Nam?"
"Nearly thirty years ago." Toby said, with a nod. "I was a real
mess when I came back, thanks to a month long stay at the Hanoi
Hilton."
"Hanoi Hilton..." Josh's mouth dropped open. "You were a POW?"
"We were captured by the VC during a routine patrol. It was our
own fault, really. We got careless, thanks mostly to a
substantial amount of dope we'd smoked that afternoon." Toby
said, with a sigh. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"That must have been hell."
"It was. I still can't talk about it much." Toby frowned into
his glass. "Anyway, I sobered up and smartened up real quick. I
was lucky and managed to escape and make my way back to our side.
It took a couple of weeks."
"How did you get out of there? I mean, I've heard stories of
that place..."
"I was determined that I couldn't wait for negotiations or play
by the rules. Too many stories of my parents' experiences during
the war."
"The camps." Josh said flatly. "Where?"
"Sobibor and Treblinka." Toby replied, equally flatly. "All I
could think of was I was not going to let those bastards do to me
what was done to them. They barely got out alive. Anyway, I got
sent stateside pretty much as soon as I reached our side. I was
okay physically, and I thought I was okay mentally, too."
"Where do the birds fit in?"
"Vietnam is a beautiful place, especially in the morning. There
are a lot of birds with lovely songs." Toby replied. "Between
morning roll call in Hanoi and the trip south, I spent a lot of
time terrified by what the sound of the birds in the morning
meant for me. Do yourself a favour and never sneak up on me on a
quiet morning."
"How did you get past it?" Josh leaned forward, intent.
"I talked to my father." Toby admitted. "The third or fourth
time I scared the hell out of David by trying to strangle him at
dawn, my father sat me down and told me about his experiences.
He never talked much about them before. He made me talk about what
happened to me and I started to work through it. I had to relive
it all many times before I could control the flashbacks."
"So you... disconnected the trigger."
"Essentially, yes. Most of my symptoms went away after I started
to deliberately remember what happened."
"How bad were the symptoms?"
"Pretty bad. David bore the brunt of most of it. I think he was
afraid of me for a long time after." Toby said, leaning forward
to fill Josh's glass. "Why music?"
"I'm not sure." Josh shook his head. "It was fine until the
whole Christmas thing started. I mean, Cathy's radio never
bugged me and I listened to the stereo at home. It wasn't until
I started..." Josh stopped suddenly, his eyes widening.
"What?"
"The Ave Maria." Josh whispered. "It was the Ave Maria."
"You have a thing against Catholic hymns?"
"No, not the song." Josh bolted to his feet and started to pace.
"You see, when my sister died, I started listening to it a lot.
She loved it and it sort of brought her back to me for a while."
Josh was speaking too fast, words tumbling out. Toby just
waited.
"When she died, I... Oh, God, Toby, I felt as if I had killed
her. She tried to save me and died." Josh couldn't keep his
hands still. "I was so scared then. I thought I was going to
just lose it."
"Go on."
"When I got shot..." Josh was slowing down now, painfully
serious. "I felt the same way. I was so scared, especially
after, when it had all sunk in what had happened. I think...
when I heard the Ave Maria... It got mixed up in my mind with
other Christmas music and what happened with Joanie and..."
Tears streamed down Josh's face and he turned away. To his
everlasting gratitude, Toby did not offer any reassurances.
"Toby, I don't want to be scared anymore." Josh said, after a
moment or two.
"It doesn't work that way."
"Are you still scared?"
"Sometimes, yes." Toby's voice was gentle, relentless. "Not
often. Not for long. But, yes."
"How do I make it stop? Even for a little while?"
"Go talk to the guy Stanley recommended. Talk to me. Talk to
anyone. Talk to yourself if that's as much as you can manage."
Toby suggested softly. "Remember what happened on your time, not
when the panic takes over."
"Is that what you did?" Josh asked eagerly.
"Yeah. Once my father got me started. It took a long time for
me, Josh. Nobody knew how to treat it then. I think you'll take
a lot less time that I did to get your head straightened out."
"Toby... Does Leo know about that part of your past?"
"He has my Service record and my arrest record."
"Arrest?"
"I didn't put my hand through a window, Josh." Toby said, with a
small smile. "I put my fist through a guy's face. More than
once."
"How come that never came up in the press? You're fairly high
profile now."
"Something about a handful of medals my mother has in a drawer.
I expect someday Lillianfield and his ilk will find and publish
it all over the news."
"Doesn't it bother you?"
"Not especially." Toby shrugged. "As a decorated vet, what I
did is understandable."
"I don't have any medals. I can't use that."
"You were shot, Josh." Toby said harshly. "You were shot and it
was in the line of duty. Just as what happened to me was in the
line of duty. If Lillianfield want to make political hay out of
the fact that getting shot bothers you, he's going to find that
the sun isn't shining on his field. Getting shot should bother
you. Your reactions are understandable. Fix it and move on."
"And if it can't be fixed?"
"Josh, if hearing "What Child is This?" on bagpipe didn't make
you freak out right then and there, you have nothing to worry
about." Toby pointed out. "Ginger nearly beat me to death for
that. Remind me to put extra cookies on her desk."
"Toby, you didn't come in to work, did you?" Josh asked,
suspiciously.
"Of course I did."
"No, you didn't." Josh said with confidence. "You knew I'd show
up here eventually and you were waiting for me. Leo or somebody
told you about the diagnosis and you were here to tell me about
your own experiences."
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and delusional." Toby shook his
head. "You are a basket case."
"And denial is just a river in Egypt." Josh scoffed. "You, my
friend, are actually a nice person."
"Josh, you are aware that I am a much better shot that the guys
at the Newseum."
"You are just an old softie at heart."
"I've killed people before."
"You really do care under that scowl."
"That's it. You say one more word and I'm cutting you off the
pfefferneuse." Toby picked up the cookies and held them at arms
reach.
Josh reached past and snagged a cookie, with a grin. Toby sighed
and put the cookies back on his desk. At least Josh couldn't
talk with a mouthful of cookie.
END