Generic Comfort
I feel like the guy that fell in the hole, again.
Although this time is different, no matter who I talked to or who I tried
to find I was just stuck, with no way out.
I was yelling and there was no one around to hear me.
I tried to stop Gibson. I tried
every trick I knew but came up empty handed.
I was powerless to help him, unable to return the favor, unable to do a
damn thing.
I've been trying for hours to figure out just what the hell happened
today. One minute I'm preparing to cover
my eyes as Leo was about to be destroyed on national television and the next
minute I'm dancing around the bullpen with a very shocked Donna. I think she was shocked about Leo and the
fact that I was dancing with her. Things
have been pretty good between us lately but still not quite back to normal.
I asked a lot of her today. She
needed to try and get things done with very little information. I basically
sent her on a wild goose chase, without telling her why I needed a goose. As
usual she took it all in stride, standing by me, helping me, just being with
me.
She was perfecting the art of generic comfort. And art she is called to use way too often
with me. She has this way about her; she
can comfort me without a word, without having any idea what's wrong. It's pretty amazing really.
In between the time she was on the Hill and the dozens of phone calls she
made trying to get Gibson out of the room she would come in my office and check
on me. Sometimes she never even said
anything, just poked her head in and smiled.
She understood I couldn't talk about what I was trying to do and she
accepted the fact.
At one point I was sitting in my chair with my feet up, eyes glued to the
television. Donna came in silently and, might I add, with a great deal of
stealth. She somehow walked in between
the television and me without my noticing and ended up behind me, leaning
against the windowsill. We watched in
silence for a while. I could feel myself
shudder every time the face of a certain Republican lawyer appeared on screen.
Donna noticed it too, I'm sure. But she
didn't say anything.
During a particularly grueling line of questioning I must have sighed or
something because I heard Donna push herself off of the windowsill and move to
stand directly behind me. I could tell
she was about to say something so I put up my hand to silence her, not wanting
to miss one word of the witch-hunt.
With a sigh and probably a bit of hesitation she put her hands on my
shoulders. I unconsciously
flinched. She hasn't touched me much
lately and let's face it, we are two very physical people. That's probably been the thing that has been
the most off about us lately.
But since Cliff things have changed and I suppose if I am going to be
honest with myself I have to say things have changed since I was attacked by
the water balloon. Things have just
been...confusing.
Anyway, she ignored my flinch and for that I was grateful. I glanced at the door, taking notice she had
closed it when she came in the room. I
took a deep breath and tried to relax. Her thumbs went to that spot at the back
of my right shoulder where a permanent knot seems to reside lately. With
practiced fingers she loosened it up as we watched the round of questions come
to an end. I picked the remote up and
muted the television, sending the room into silence. Even the bullpen was quiet today. Everyone must have been watching.
It was then that I realized how worked up I was. The sound of my breathing was harsh against
the quiet of the room. Donna's hands had
made their way from my shoulder to the curls at the back of my neck, making me
realize I really need to get a haircut.
My mind was screaming for me to move, get up and away from Donna, things
were getting...well, the room was getting a little warm, let's leave it at that.
But then I realized something. As
intimate as the moment was, that's not what it was about. It was about us, we were just acting like
Josh and Donna. It was like things were
getting back to normal, whatever normal is for us.
As her fingers moved through my hair to wind up at my temples I leaned back
a little and looked Donna in the eye.
She gave me a familiar sad smile.
One I've seen way too much over the past year and a half. I returned the smile, trying hard to show my
dimples. But I don't think I quite
managed it.
She started to say something but bit back the words as I pleaded with my
eyes and shook my head ever so slightly.
The moment was so....I don't even know how to describe what I was
feeling at the time. Words just weren't
needed.
It was only another 15 or so minutes before the questioning resumed but in
that time I felt more emotions that I have felt in a long time. Emotions so opposed to each other went
through my body. Confusion and
clarity. Fear and security. Happiness and the desire to cry. The wish to run and the inability to actually
move. But most overwhelming was the feeling of being loved.
Like the quilt that covered my bed when I was a kid, Donna's touch made me
feel safe, warm and loved.
If that's not sappy I don't know what is.
But sue me, that's how I felt.
I was struck by the realization that I don't know if I am quite ready to risk what I have with
Donna by trying to take things a step further. I love what we have. It works for us.
As the next round of questions was about to start Donna knelt down next to
me and tipped my chin to look me in the eye.
The tears I saw in her eyes mirrored my own. She kissed my cheek and
went back to her desk to try and track down a name for me.
Half an hour later it was over and we were dancing in the bullpen.
After I sent Donna home I wandered over to talk to Leo. I poked my head into his office to find him
sound asleep on the couch, a small picture frame clutched to his chest. I smiled as I gently took it out of his hands
and put it on the table. I had heard the
story of how Leo showed up in Concord with some note on a napkin but I had
never actually seen it.
I grabbed the blanket out of Leo's closet; covered him up and kissed his
forehead before I headed out.
So I am now at home on my couch, thinking about drowning my sorrows in the
bottle of beer I have hidden in the back of the fridge. Considering I haven't eaten much of anything
today, one beer is probably all it would take.
Yeah, yeah, sensitive system.
But getting a beer would involve, you know, moving and getting off the
couch. I'm pretty comfortable right
where I am. It's been about an hour
since I stumbled in the door. Guess it's
a little after midnight. Not too sure, my crappy watch is in the bedroom and I
can't see the clock on the VCR.
So I'll just curl up under my old worn quilt, watch CNN and think sappy
thoughts.
THE END
