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Chapter Text

Over the past year or so, Sam has unintentionally developed a very specific rhythm for when he's knocking on the door to Josh's office. He hadn't realised, until Josh knew who was knocking every time, before Sam even said a word. Josh told him that Sam is the only one that knocks that way. 

Three knocks, a pause, and then another knock. Always immediately followed by “Sam? You can come in.” 

Today is no different. Leo is looking for Josh, who has been something of a recluse today, so he sent Sam to retrieve him. He approaches Josh's office door, gently rapping on his office door. Knock-knock-knock, knock. 

“Hi Sam,” comes Josh's voice from the other side of the door. His voice is a little softer than usual. Sam twists the door handle open and lets himself inside, seeing Josh at his desk. His head is resting on his palm, and he's staring forward. He doesn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, his eyes are glossed over. His office is chaotic, even for Josh standards. There are papers on the floor, like he swept part of the desk with his arm. His CD player is on. 

“The Beatles, huh?” Sam says, venturing forward a little.

Josh nods. He doesn't look up. Sam kneels down to grab some of the fallen papers and he puts them back on the desk. Josh's eyes flit over to track the movement. 

Sam grimaces, shuffling the papers and trying to put them in a neat pile. He hopes this isn't anything too important. “Leo is looking for you.”

Josh swallows thickly. “What does he need?” He husks. 

“I didn't ask.” Sam replies. 

Josh looks up. His eyes are darker, like he's been crying. Sam chooses not to comment on it. “...would you just sit with me for a second?”

Sam blinks. “Yeah. Sure.” He hastily pulls out the chair in front of Josh's desk, sitting down. Josh smiles weakly at him. He doesn't say anything. Sam tries to listen to the Beatles song quietly playing from Josh's CD player. He knows enough to know it's from Sergeant Pepper, but he's not sure which song. 

Josh stands up silently, rewinding the track and signalling for Sam to listen. “You know what's interesting about that? A7 is a non-diatonic chord in the G major key.” He murmurs, his voice lacking the usual enthusiasm it carries when he is sharing a fun fact. “And they made it the first chord.” 

Sam raises an eyebrow, smiling up at him. “Interesting. I didn't know you were a music theory guy.”

Josh wilts a little, making Sam wish he could un-say whatever made that happen. “I'm not.” He sits back down, blinking repeatedly as if to ward tears back. “Joanie taught me that.” He eventually says, his voice lowered to a level barely higher than a whisper.

“I see.” 

Josh's current mental state starts to make a lot more sense. 

“She loved that album.” His voice breaks. Sam pretends it didn't. 

“It's a good one.” Sam replies softly. He stands up, looping around Josh's desk to pull him into a hug. Josh hugs him back, clutching Sam's arms tight. It's like he's clenching every fiber of his body to keep the tears away. 

Josh pulls away, taking in a deep breath. “Leo needs me.”

Sam nods, offering him a reassuring smile. “Yeah. Do you want me to-?”

“Walk me there? That's okay, Sam.” Josh smiles back, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He pats Sam on the shoulder, brushing past him to get to the door. “See you later.” He turns around for a moment, saying nothing. Sam watches him leave, feeling a new tightness in his chest. 

Chapter Text

Crack. 

Josh felt fireworks. Something had just exploded inside him. Something bad ripped through his body and ravaged his insides. He let out a pained cry, falling back against the ramp behind him. He clutched his stomach, feeling something soak his hands. He looked down to see his palms soaked in blood. That wasn't good. 

He tried to gasp out a breath, but it was like something was stopping him from breathing like he should. The firework? was lodged somewhere it shouldn't be, clogging his lungs somehow. It was like every breath he took wasn't travelling where it was supposed to. 

The world was starting to spin around him. The screams and sirens were growing distant, muffling in his ears until he could only hear the hammering of his heart. He was alive. He pressed his hand against the blood, watching the skin turn crimson. He let out a slow, pained groan, lifting his head and trying to find a familiar face. 

“Have you seen Josh?” 

Josh tried to focus his gaze on the source of the voice. The world just kept on spinning. The blood was soaking his shirt. He distantly cursed the inconvenience of all of this. He didn't have time to dry clean it. 

The staircase in front of him started to fog over. He tried to blink the fog away. There were tears pooling in his eyes. 

“Has anyone seen Josh? Anyone at all?”

That was Toby. Josh tried to call out. His voice didn't work. He let out a wet cough, watching blood splatter onto the concrete steps in front of him. It was not supposed to do that. Where was Toby? 

Josh pushed himself off the railing, forcing himself to stagger forward. He kept one hand on the wound. It was his lower stomach. Amidst the brain fog and the spinning, it was starting to register that Josh had been shot. He forced himself down the steps, feeling nauseous. It hurt. It hurt so much. Something bad was happening. 

Toby, he mouthed. He couldn't find him. Was he going to die before Toby found him? Was this wound fatal? It hurt. It hurt. 

“Josh!” 

Josh forced his head up to see Toby running towards him. 

“Didn't you hear me shouting for you?” Toby looked endlessly relieved. Josh's eyelids fluttered a little. He wavered on his feet. 

Toby, he mouthed again. Toby's expression started to shift from one of relief to one of fear. Josh lifted up one of his hands, letting Toby see his blood saturated palm. He involuntarily staggered a few steps to the right. He forced out a cough again, and this time Toby was there to witness the blood splatter. 

Toby just looked at him for a second, like not a single thing in the world could have prepared him for what he was looking at. He tilted his head, looking like he was about to throw up. 

“I NEED A DOCTOR!” He shrieked. He wrapped his arms around Josh before he could collapse. Josh's chin fell onto his shoulder. “I NEED HELP!”

It hurts, he mouthed. He fully slumped into Toby and he let him lower him to the ground. Toby started to assure him he'd be alright. He couldn't really hear much anymore. His ears were ringing. His stomach was being torn apart and no one was doing anything about it. Toby let Josh's head rest in his arms. His presence was comforting. At least he'd have Toby if he died. Toby kept telling him to keep his eyes open. Josh knew that. He wasn't born yesterday. 

Toby. 

Josh's mind was static. It hurt. He didn't want to die. It hurt.

Chapter Text

Josh finds himself doodling through most classes these days. Being frightened out of a daydream has become a regular occurrence. He's managed to make it to senior year without completely losing the run of himself, but the motivation just isn't there anymore. He does his homework, maybe a little extra, but he doesn't have the drive he used to. He tries to listen, he really does. It's just easier to allow his mind to drift to nicer places during classes and catch up at home. He knows he wants to do something with his life, he just can't really grasp onto anything in particular. Nothing really feels like it matters. Life has been a burden since his tenth birthday. 

He doesn't know what class he's in, but he knows he's drawing. He's filling in the nose of the little cat on the page in front of him when he starts to hear a loud ringing above him. Chairs scratch off the floor as everyone in the room starts to file out. Josh finds himself frozen in place. 

“Fire drill. You guys know the procedure at this point. Single file, no yelling, don't bring your bags.” 

Josh drops his pencil, listening to it clatter onto the table. It sounds like the loudest noise in the world. His hands start to tremble uncontrollably. The alarm is piercing both ears at once, like a spear has been shoved through his skull. 

“Joshua, hurry up please. You're the last out so you can close the door.”

Josh squeezes his eyes shut, feeling tears pooling. He can't move. Something primal stops him. 

“Run outside, Josh. I'll put it out and come get you.” 

Josh's breath hitches. He looks up. The room is completely empty. Joanie isn't here. He's older than Joanie was. But he can hear her. A piercing alarm and Joanie. 

Josh lowers his head onto the table and presses his hands against his ears as hard as he can. The alarm doesn't get any quieter. It's all in his head now. A single voice of reason cuts through the panic and terror, telling him to go outside with everyone else. Another one tells him he can't leave again. Joanie died the last time he did that. 

“She's gone.” He whispers to no one. He takes a shaky breath. “She's gone.” 

Josh forces himself to his feet, wavering a little. He wipes the tears from his eyes. His cheeks are soaked. 

“JOANIE!” 

Josh hears his own anguished screams blend with the alarms. He hears the crackle of fire, the occasional crash of a section of his home crumbling, the smell of the smoke. 

He hears her. 

Josh starts to run. He doesn't close the door. Not a single soul roams the hall. Josh is alone here. He keeps on running, his shoes echoing throughout the hall as they slam against the floor. He can still hear her. Screaming for help. She needs him. She needed him.

“JOSH!”

“She's gone.” Josh repeats, gasping. 

He makes it to the front door and he pushes them open, running out to the assembly point, where everyone else is. They're looking at him. The alarms in the building grow distant, but the ones in his mind are persistent. 

“Joshua! Where were you-?” His teacher cuts herself off when she sees the state Josh is in. He's a crying, heaving mess. He can't stop his hands from shaking and he can't keep is breathing steady. He can't stop hearing her. She's calling for him. “Josh, what's the matter?”

Josh just shakes his head. His mouth twists into a tight frown as he tries to stop himself from crying even more. He's gently tugged over to a chair and made to sit down. More questions are fired at him and he just can't get an answer out. 

“She's gone,” is all he can manage. Worried looks are traded. 

“Who, Josh?” 

“Joanie. I didn't get her out.” He whispers, pressing his hands against his ears again. He really needs the alarm to stop. 

“His sister, she passed. A fire.” Someone whispers. 

“Get the alarms off.” Someone whispers in response. 

Josh sits, for a long time, stewing in the screams, the smoke, the fire, until someone gets the alarms off. It all stops at once. Josh opens his eyes, slowly taking his hands from his ears. Joanie is gone. 

It hits him again. He tries not to cry. It gets easier when he feels that familiar shift in his brain. It sort of feels like there's some button he can press to disconnect his mind from his body. While worried teachers try to ask him if he's alright, his mind wanders to the world where everything is fine. He doesn't cry. 

Chapter Text

“Give it up for Yo-Yo Ma, everybody!” 

Jed stands up first, beaming, and everybody else rushedly stands to match him. When he starts to clap, the room is immediately filled with thunderous applause. Josh claps along, trying not to choke on his own laboured breaths. He needs to find the right opportunity to discreetly wipe the tears from his face. His eyes flit around the room for an easy exit. There are so many people in here. People and chairs, and an astronomically expensive musical instrument. Too many opportunities to waver on his feet and stumble into something. He’s already finding it difficult to stand up straight. 

Something has just happened to him. He tries to remember. It felt like it started as soon as the cello did. Jed announced the piece, Bach Suite in G Major. The music started to fill the room, but Josh hadn’t heard cello. At least, it didn’t feel like he had. It was sirens. It sounded more like sirens. 

Josh clutches his stomach, pressing his hand into it, stifling the blood that has long since dried up. A rational part of him knows the wound is healing. Another part, somehow unleashed by Johann Sebastian Bach, drags him back to Rosslyn Virginia. It rips his body apart again, pumps him full of adrenaline he has no use for. Then, when the bow parts the cello for the last time, it leaves him to deal with it all. 

People are ushered into another room for refreshments. Josh grabs onto the back of each chair as he walks along, not trusting himself to walk steady without support. Toby is standing in the middle aisle. Josh tries to avoid his gaze. He wipes his eyes with the tips of his fingers, clearing his throat immediately after, like that’ll make it less suspicious. He needs to get out of here. 

“Josh.” Toby says softly. Josh brushes past him, muttering about the refreshments. He doesn’t have it in him to explain this all away. He was just emotional from the music. Yo-Yo Ma was touching, that’s all. The Christmas spirit filled his heart. Something like that. Toby doesn’t relent. He walks beside Josh, eyeing him worriedly. “Josh. Can we talk in private?” 

Josh shakes his head. He speeds up to reconvene with everyone else. The music playing in the room unsettles him on entry. The sound is partially washed out by sirens. The same ones as before. He has the sense to keep this to himself. Donna’s beaming face is the first one he sees. She’s gushing about Yo-Yo Ma with Sam. Good. He can stand beside her and disappear for a while. Donna spots him walking over immediately and her smile widens, if that’s even possible. 

“Josh. Thank God you let me come.” Her eyes shine. Her joy is almost infectious enough to make Josh feel like everything is okay. 

“So you liked it?” He replies tinnily, taking in a breath. He feels like he’s still catching up on oxygen. His hand brushes over his healing wound again. 

“Single gunshot wound.” Someone says, in the distance. Josh whips his head around to find the source. Nobody is there. A phantom pain zaps his stomach and he tries not to wince. 

“I can die happy.” Donna replies. One side of Josh says that makes one of us. He blinks the thought away. 

Sam has been eyeing Josh very carefully since he approached, and Josh has been trying not to notice. He pointedly avoids his gaze, nodding along to Donna’s excited analysis of the performance. CJ floats over after a while, and she’s looking at Josh the same way Toby was. And now Sam too. It’s like this room is full of spies. 

When CJ and Donna are engrossed in their own conversation, Sam takes a step towards Josh. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed to the ground, and his left hand pressed against his stomach.

“Josh, I was sitting behind you and I just… noticed.” Sam’s voice is about as gentle as Josh has ever heard it. Josh is a feather that might float away if he speaks any louder than a murmur. It’s hard to hear him over the sirens. 

“Sam.” Josh husks. He raises his head just enough to meet Sam’s gaze, his sad eyes. “I just got emotional.” 

Sam opens his mouth to respond, and then he quiets. He just looks at him. Does he think he’ll goad him into a confession this way? Josh has nothing to confess. 

“I need to use the restroom.” He gathers the energy to walk out with his usual feigned arrogance. Sam watches him go. Josh doesn’t look back when he gets to the doorway, to see him watching. He wouldn’t. 

Quiet. Josh needs to find quiet. He thunders down the hall, his pace just short of a run. He turns a corner and the sirens die down. The panicked doctors stop talking, and the passersby stop shrieking. Josh’s stomach still hurts. His breathing still rasps. 

He leans back, letting his back hit the wall. He starts to wheeze, feeling his eyes fill up with tears again. 

“Fuck.” He cups his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck!” The broken yell echoes down the hall. It doesn’t feel like it’s his. A cacophony of laughter coming from the party room permeates his quiet. It sort of sounds like screaming. Josh tries to breathe through his nose in the hopes that it’ll help slow the hyperventilation. It just makes him feel even more breathless. A cough escapes his throat, and he almost expects to hear blood splatter onto the floor. 

He’s healing, he reminds himself. 

“Josh.” 

Josh winces violently, his hands reflexively raising to block his face. “Jesus Christ, Toby.” He breathes. “What is wrong with you?” 

Toby just looks at him. “I should be asking you that.”

“What are you talking about?” Josh grows angry quickly. Toby has no right to frighten him like that and then try to turn it into an interrogation. He clenches his shaking fists. “Why did you follow me down here?” 

Toby’s eyes are still soft. “I’m worried about you.” He says bluntly.

Josh breathes out. 

“We can talk about what just happened.” Toby takes a step back, putting space between them. Josh likens it to him dealing with some kind of scared animal. It still helps. 

“Can you just… call me a cab?” He replies quietly. 

Toby keeps looking at him, worried. Eventually, he nods. “Okay. I’m going to sit with you for a while.” 

Josh doesn’t have it in him to say no. Maybe part of him needs the company. He slides down the wall until he’s sitting, and Toby takes a seat beside him. 

“Get your breath back.” Toby says. He puts a steadying hand on Josh’s shoulder. He feels a little better.

Chapter Text

Ryan is supposed to be at a Washington Wizards game right now. Admittedly, it took little convincing from Donna for him to change those plans. Now, opposed to a courtside view, he has a front row view of Josh Lyman looking like the saddest man alive. 

“You into football?” He asks, trying to make conversation. Josh has been staring at the table since he told him Wilcox isn't coming. No one seems to really respect Josh's time right now. 

Josh makes no move to respond to Ryan's question, so he takes it upon himself to lead the conversation himself. “I got courtside tickets for the Wizards game. Not cheap.” 

Josh lifts his head, a brow raised but eyes still indicating disinterest. He doesn't really seem to care about anything right now. “For when?” He asks, his voice about as monotone as it could be. 

Ryan grimaces. “Well, tonight. But that's beside the point.”

That seems to rouse an emotion out of Josh. “You skipped a Wizards game for me? You wasted courtside tickets? Just how rich are your parents?” 

Ryan lifts up his menu, smiling measuredly. “I'm not gonna turn down a good meal when I'm offered one.” 

“A ten dollar hot dog sounds more appealing than my company.” Josh mutters, resting his head on his palm. He calls a waiter over, requesting a bottle of vodka for the table. Ryan grimaces. He's not sure intoxication is what Josh needs right now. He also has the sense to keep that observation to himself. He opts for a glass of coke. 

“Your company is riveting.” Ryan replies, devoid of sarcasm. “It interests me how you can simultaneously be incredibly arrogant and also the most self effacing man alive.” 

Josh breathes out a laugh. His eyes don't match. “What are you talking about?”

Ryan puts his menu down, angling himself to look at Josh. “You graduated Harvard cum laude, and when I pointed it out you told me that summa's the hard one.” 

“It's true.”

“Not the point.” Ryan gives him a knowing look. “It's like you're only confident when you feel you have to be. It's more a performance for you than it is a genuine security in who you are.” 

Josh stares at him for a solid thirty seconds. The vodka arrives and he drinks from the bottle, swallowing it down like it's water. Ryan winces. Surely that had to be at least a little bit painful. “Please spare me the psychoanalysis. I've had a long day.” He huffs, putting the bottle down and pushing it away. 

“Wilcox is a prick for cancelling on you.” Ryan says bluntly. Josh doesn't pass any comment on the statement. He's trying to be diplomatic, like that'll save him. It's not like Ryan would tattle if Josh decided to air out every grievance he has. 

“You should've went to the Wizard's game.” He says, breaking a short silence. “Josh Lyman over Michael Jordan. Your priorities are seriously skewed.” 

Ryan grins. “First of all, you're technically my boss, so I sort of had to show up. And second of all, again with the self deprecation!”

Josh rolls his eyes, waving his hand like he can bat the statement away. “Maybe you should stop interning for me and consider psychiatry.”

“You'd love that.” Ryan shoots back jokingly. “You'd be rid of me.”

Josh sighs quietly. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know.” 

Josh grabs the bottle. It's Ryan's turn to sigh. 

“I hope you didn't drive here.” He says. Josh shakes his head. He returns to his quiet staring. It's a little hard to watch. His dull, sad eyes flitting around the restaurant, like he's waiting for something. Ryan noticed that about Josh a long time ago. He looks like he's missing something, and his eyes are always trying to find it, whatever it is. Maybe he doesn't even know what. 

The restaurant is dimly lit, in a cosy sort of way. It's the perfect backdrop for wallowing in misery. Josh is using it for its intended purpose. Ryan is just hungry. 

“Were you gonna order?” He asks. 

Josh shrugs. “Guess so.” 

Ryan picks back up his menu. He wasn't really even looking at it before. It was just part of his little performance. “Any recommendations?” 

Josh looks like he's about to shake his head, but he doesn't. He flicks open his menu with one finger and stares down at it. “A fettuccine alfredo has never done me wrong.” He mutters, looking at Ryan. 

“Can't disagree.” Ryan hates cheese with a passion. He will order it anyway so Josh feels like he made at least one contribution to something today.

Josh's expression shifts. “You really didn't have to-”

“Stop it.” Ryan cuts him off. “I'm getting a free meal.”

Josh smiles dimly, the kind of smile that has Ryan sure a quip is coming. “Who said this was free? Pay up, trust fund baby.”

Ryan laughs, feigning exasperation. If he has Josh quipping, he is on the right path. 

He grabs his coke glass and raises it. “To preying on Wilcox's downfall.”

 Josh hesitates for a moment, looking around like he'll be crucified for even hearing that. Then, he clinks his bottle against Ryan's glass and drinks. 

“Cheers.” 

Chapter Text

“My only recommendation for tonight, Josh. Don't be alone. You're in a very delicate place, and I think we both know that being alone in this state doesn't work out well for you.” Stanley gives Josh a knowing look, drinking the last of the mug of tea in his hand. These sessions never last as long as Josh would like. “It can be anyone. A friend, a family member. Just somebody.”

Josh nods mutely. He stares at the fireplace in front of him, watching the logs crumble to ash as they burn. He doesn't like the crackle they make. A particularly loud snap sounds too similar to a gunshot for him to be comfortable. His eyelids still feel heavy. It's rare a session makes him cry this much. 

“Thanks, Stanley.” Josh wills himself to stand up and grab his coat. He doesn't really want to leave. It's warm in here. The winter cold looks sharp and uninviting. Stanley gives him a smile and a nod. 

“Anything else, and you call me, okay?”

“You mean have Donna call you.” He jokes weakly, earning a short laugh from Stanley. 

“Yeah.” He opens the front door for Josh. “But I mean it, Josh. Take care.”

Josh nods again, walking out and hearing the door close behind him. He lets out a long sigh. He's not really sure what the sigh is supposed to mean. Not relief, not exasperation. Maybe he's just short of breath. He purposefully makes the walk to the lift as long as possible, which is difficult because Stanley's apartment isn't far from it. He stares at the patterns in the carpet, concluding that there doesn't seem to be any coherent pattern to speak of. It's like if a toddler scribbled on a carpet and called it a day. He makes it to the lift and sighs again. It's getting irritating. The door opens as soon as he presses the button, his one stroke of luck for the day. He nearly winces when he catches sight of himself in the mirror. Him, in his ridiculously oversized coat, with frazzled hair and eyebags that make it look like he doesn't know the definition of the word sleep. He looks down instead. 

The lift dings open, and he makes his way out to the lobby. He looks out at the cold street and grimaces. Hopefully his cab won't take long. The cold air slaps him in the face when he pulls the door open. It's teeth chattering weather, as his mother would say. He pulls his phone from his pocket with a cold hand, dialling a familiar number and holding it up to his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Sam?” Josh leans against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“Hi Josh. Is… everything okay?” Sam already sounds concerned, like he knows something.

Josh feigns a scoff. “Do I have to be in crisis to call you, Sam?”

There's a short pause. “It's ten o'clock.”

“Oh. Forgot about that part.” Josh laughs sheepishly. Sam waits for him to continue. “Well, I'm, uh. I'm calling because I just had a session with Stanley.”

“Okay.” 

“And he told me that I shouldn't be alone.” He continues, rushing into the next sentence before Sam can worry himself to death. “Not because of… anything like that. He just told me I should have some company. Just in case.” 

“Okay.” He repeats, softer. 

“And you were the first person I thought to call.” Josh sort of mumbles that part. 

“Do you want me to come to your apartment?”

“Preferably, yes. I'm still waiting on a cab from Stanley's place.” 

“Do you need anything?”

“No, Sam. Just… company. Just company.”

There's a longer pause. “Alright. I'll be there.” 

“Thanks, Sam.”

Josh hears a click, signalling that Sam hung up. He puts his phone back in his coat pocket just as his taxi pulls in. 

Chapter Text

Sam tries not to worry about Josh, he really does. Josh is working on himself, he's healing. But nights like these always drag the memory of Josh showing up to work with a bandaged hand to the forefront of his mind. Sam promised he wouldn't miss any signs ever again after that. Josh had been crying, screaming for help since Rosslyn, and it took an Oval Office explosion for anyone to truly notice. Sam doesn't worry. He just… keeps an eye. 

He might be driving a little too quickly, but the thought of Josh alone in his apartment unsettles him beyond belief. He's not worried. Josh called him. He's okay. He wants company, so Sam will give him company. He will stay as long as Josh needs. He listens to the street lamps whir by as he drives, the wind howling through his window. It's the kind of noise he used to be terrified of when he was a kid. There's still a part of him that can't bear the sound, not that he'd admit that to anyone. It's like a banshee howl. It never means anything good. 

Sam's original plan for the night was to go for a quiet drink and then head back to his apartment. He's glad Josh called before he ordered anything. He would've called a cab to get to him either way. Josh's apartment complex is a welcome sight. The drive couldn't have been more than five minutes, but it felt much longer. He parks at the side of the street and quickly makes his way to Josh's apartment. He opts for the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator to come down. Slightly out of breath and relieved to be here, he knocks on Josh's door. 

Josh responds immediately, putting Sam at ease. “Coming, Sam.” Sam hears the door click open, and then the door opens just enough for Sam to see Josh's face. “Hi Sam.” He opens the door fully, letting Sam inside. 

“Hi, Josh.” 

Josh looks tired. That's not really anything new for him, but it's still a little frightening. There's tired, and then there's drained. Josh looks like somebody has stolen the life from his body. He's still wearing his coat. His hands are shivering but Sam can't decipher if it's the cold or if it's nerves. He's wearing a dim, forced smile. 

“Thanks for coming, Sam.” Josh mutters, retreating back to the couch. Sam takes a seat beside him. “Stanley told me I'm in a fragile state.”

“Fragile?” Sam echoes the statement back to him in the hope of elaboration.

Josh shifts nervously, his eyes flitting down. “Yeah. I had an episode today.”

Sam feels his eyes widen. “At work?”

Josh nods reluctantly. “Donna found me,” he husks, much quieter than before. He tends to shrink into himself when he's saying something vulnerable. “I don't really know what started it. I just remember feeling the… pain again.” 

Sam doesn't know what to say. He puts his hand over Josh's, hoping the touch is comforting. Josh's eyes shoot up to look at him. He doesn't say anything. 

“It feels fresh every time.” He continues shakily. “Every episode, it feels like I'm being shot again.” 

Sam can feel Josh's hand trembling beneath his. He slides his hand into Josh's palm so he can hold it properly. 

“A trigger can be something as minor as a familiar smell.” Sam says.

 Josh smiles faintly, breathing out a laugh. “I know, Sam. I'm the one with PTSD.” His blank stare is now aimed at Sam's hand in his. He's just looking. “...I was so scared.” 

“I can imagine.” Sam whispers. 

“I thought I was dying.” Josh is talking so quietly, to the point he's barely audible. Sam knows his thought process. If he talks soft enough, his voice can't break. “I thought I was going to die alone in my office.”

Sam squeezes Josh's hand a little tighter. 

“Stanley told me I'd get better, and I believe him. I want to believe him. I just…” Josh trails off, and he lets out a sharp sigh. It's the kind of frustrated sigh that tells Sam he's mad that he's about to cry. Josh turns his head to look at Sam, and his face scrunches up as soon as he meets his eyes. Sam's heart could break. 

“Josh.” Sam lets Josh's head fall onto his shoulder as he cries. He gently wraps his arms around him, and he feels Josh bury his face in Sam's shirt. “It'll be okay. You'll be okay.”

“Thank you for being here. I needed you.” Josh snivels, holding Sam tight. It's foreign to see him this vulnerable. He's usually the type to stew in his feelings until they boil over, á la The Oval Office Incident. Sam doesn't like to see him this raw. It means he's hurting badly. “I really needed you.” 

“I'm here now.” Sam soothes, looking around the apartment over Josh's shoulder. It's more cluttered than usual. Now is not the time to comment on that. “I'm not going.”

“You're here.” Josh whispers, like he's confirming it for himself. His sharp, hitched breaths start to slow to something more steady. “You're here.” 

“Always.”

Chapter Text

“Donna, could you pass this on to Josh for me?” CJ hands Donna a memo written on a post-it note as she walks past. She is yet to see Josh today, and it's already four in the afternoon. Donna takes it, nodding. 

“Sure.” There's something about her tone that suggests reluctance.

“It's about the SPR.” She explains. “Sam thinks it's worth revisiting his policy. It's not quite a national emergency, but it would certainly make a lot of lives easier if we temporarily tapped into the reserve.”

“I'll let him know you're looking for him.” Donna says quietly, turning away. 

CJ stops Donna before she can walk off. “Donna, is something the matter?”

“No, it's just-” She sighs. “He's been different.” Donna mutters. CJ isn't shocked by that. No one expected Josh to come back as good as new after being shot. “It's like working with a ghost.”

“How so?” 

“He just sits there. He doesn't talk, he barely works. I hand him memos and he just looks at them.” Donna looks guilty to even be saying it. “It's not Josh.” 

CJ frowns. “Is he in his office right now?” Donna nods. “Alright, give me that back. I'm going to see if I can talk to him.” 

Donna hands the post-it back. “I've been trying to start a conversation with him for days.” She says. “Let me know if he tells you anything. I need to find Toby.” 

CJ nods, and Donna rushes off elsewhere. She has the stride of someone who is constantly on a mission. CJ now has a mission of her own; Operation: Figure Out What Is Wrong With Joshua. Post-it in hand, she makes her way over to Josh's office. She gently knocks on the door. 

“Josh?” 

She gets no answer, so she knocks again louder. When it becomes evident Josh is not going to open the door, she lets herself in. Josh is sitting at his desk, chin resting on his palm and a pen in hand. His stare is uncharacteristically vacant. 

“Josh.” 

His head shoots up, and she sees his eyes refocus in real time. His pupils are wider than they usually are. He just looks at her. No, “oh, hey CJ,” or, “sorry, I didn't hear you knock!” He just watches her warily, like a mouse hiding from a cat. 

“Sam thinks we should tap into the SPR.” She says. 

“We're not doing that.” He drones in response, returning his gaze to whatever he's working on. “I've repeatedly told Sam we're not doing it.”

CJ rounds the desk to stand beside him. “He wants to convince you otherwise.” She says, now noticing that Josh has been working on a crossword puzzle. 

“He will fail.” 

“Why are you doing a crossword puzzle?” She asks. 

“Mental stimulation.”

“How about you stimulate your brain with the work you're supposed to be doing?” She grabs a folder from his desk, dropping it down in front of his puzzle. He pushes it out of the way. 

“I will.” He has the cadence of a twelve-year-old boy promising he'll clean his room. He really does feel like her younger brother sometimes. This thought spurs her to push harder and figure out what his issue is. 

“Donna said you haven't been leaving your office.”

“I don't like the bagpipes.” He mutters.

“What?”

“The bagpipes in the lobby. The regiment Toby hired. I don't like them.” He replies bluntly, keeping his eyes fixed to the puzzle. He is yet to meet her eyes while speaking. 

“Why?” CJ can't help but scoff. “Do you have something against the Scots?” 

“No. The bagpipes just make me… shaky.” Josh's voice gets quieter as he speaks. “I don't like walking through the lobby.” 

“You're avoiding the lobby because of the bagpipe regiment?” CJ can't wrap her head around why it would bother him that much. 

“Yes, CJ.” He sighs sharply. Silence settles for a second, and CJ is about to leave, defeated. “Four, down. What is it?” Josh points to his crossword. 

CJ squints to read the hint. “The formation of an idea, plan or concept in one's mind. It would be ideation, wouldn't it?”

Josh swallows thickly. “Yeah. I think you're right.” He speaks like every word is coated in poison. CJ watches him fill in the answer, his hand noticeably trembling. “...and seven, across?”

“Clearance. The authorisation for something to proceed. Yeah, clearance.”

“Thanks.” He chokes out, taking in a breath afterwards. 

CJ doesn't particularly feel like watching Josh slowly solve a crossword puzzle. She pats his shoulder. “Talk to Sam.” 

Josh pipes up before she can leave. “CJ, do you believe in signs?”

“Like, from God or something?” She asks, her brows furrowed. He nods. “I guess so. Why?”

He only shrugs.

“Josh, are you alright?”

He nods again. 

“Go for a walk, alright? For me.” She wants to drag him out of his dreadful office and force him to look at the sun. The mounting pile of papers has to be incredibly demoralising to look at. 

“Okay. See you at the party tomorrow.” 

CJ nods, offering him a kind smile that he doesn't return. She leaves his office more worried than when she entered.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“No, Josh, your father died.” 

Josh’s smile from before Donna spoke still lingers on his lips. For a second, he continues to live in the world of victory and glory. They’d won the Illinois Primary. Governor Bartlet could be president! He blinks, feeling his face slowly shift in real time, feeling that joy wash away as quickly as it had arrived. His eyes widen, his lips part, his insides jolt at the shock. He lets go of Donna’s arm and stands, frozen, trying to make sense of the words. He looks around at everybody. They were celebrating, dancing, and hugging just a few seconds ago. Somebody turns the music off. 

“What?” Josh eventually chokes out. The smile returns to his lips, though he’s not quite sure why. Donna’s mouth twists as she swallows back the lump in her throat. Everybody is looking at him. Sam ventures towards him, and Josh finds himself stepping back. He doesn’t want this. If he lets Sam comfort him then that means something has happened. “I don’t understand.” 

“Josh.” Donna’s voice breaks, and she bites down on her lip. 

“I- I need to-” Josh staggers a little on his feet. I need to sit down I need to sit down. He looks at Donna frantically, willing her to understand. She grabs the nearest chair and then his arm, tugging him over and sitting him down. He clutches his throat, gasping out a breath. He feels like he needs to rip his throat open to breathe. 

He shrinks into himself, swallowing, heaving, gasping. He keeps his eyes fixed to the ground. Every set of eyes in the room track him anxiously. He hears one set of footsteps quietly approach, then kneel down beside him. 

“Josh, you need to do three things.” CJ’s voice cuts through everything else. It’s crystal clear. Josh’s eyes flit up. Her face is stern. “You need to breathe.”

Josh nods shakily. She puts a steadying hand on his shoulder, taking in a slow breath and urging him to mimic her. 

“You need to book a flight home.” She continues, her voice remaining stern. She knows nothing else will drag him out of this daze. 

Josh hesitates, wiping away tears. He doesn’t remember when he started to cry. “I can’t. We just won the Illinois Primary. I have to stay.”

CJ shakes her head, her eyes softening a little. “Josh, you need to go home. You need to book a flight and call your mother.”

“I’ll book your flight, Josh.” Donna speaks up. 

“Thank you, Donna.” CJ stands straight, tapping Josh’s arm gently. He stands up too, feeling like half a person. Joanie had taken a piece of him when she left, and he’d just lost another. How was he supposed to keep going? What was supposed to happen after this? CJ is looking at him like she knows exactly what is going on in his mind. She grabs his arms firmly, looking right through him. “Josh, I need you to dig your feet in, now. You have every reason to break down, but you need to get home to your mother. Now is not the time to bury your head in the sand.” 

Josh swallows thickly. “Okay.” He croaks. “Digging in, CJ.” 

“Good.” She replies, letting go. She pulls him into a hug. “I love you, and I’m sorry.” 

Josh hugs her back as tight as he can muster, letting his head rest on her shoulder. He doesn’t cry. He digs his feet in, harder. 

CJ gently pushes him towards the door. “You can handle this. Go home.” 

Josh nods, taking anchor weighted steps towards the door. Nobody knows what to say to him. He doesn’t either.