You Raise Me Up

I watch as Matt Hunt heads down the hall. He doesn't look happy so I imagine Josh isn't happy either. I figure I have about 10 seconds before Josh starts bellowing for me.

"DONNA!!"

OK, that was about 3 seconds. "What!!" I yell back, not bothering to turn around. If he really wants something he'll come over to my desk.

"Call Margaret, tell her I'm on my way over." By the time I turn around to ask why Josh has taken off, practically running down the hallway. That's not usually a good sign. I call Margaret, Leo's out of the building. Maybe I should wander over to the copier to see if Ryan needs help cause I'm sure Josh is going to be in a foul mood when he gets back. Before I can get up Ryan returns. He puts the book back on the shelf.

"Done copying?" I tease.

"Yeah, right. You have a minute to talk about Josh?"

Not really. "Why are you annoyed that you had to read mind numbingly boring spread sheets? Or are you going to complain about what happened in the Oval Office."

Ryan doesn't answer so I eventually look up from my computer monitor. He's got a look on his face that tells me he really does have something important to say. "Come with me," I say as I gesture towards Josh's office. I have a feeling this is not a public conversation. "What happened in the Oval Office?" I ask as I close the door behind us and take a seat in Josh's chair.

"Josh got some numbers wrong and I corrected him. What was I supposed to do?"

"Did you go over the numbers with him beforehand? And put them on index cards. He needs index cards, his visual memory is much better than his auditory one. You should know that by now," I scold as I straighten the files that are precariously stacked on the corner of Josh's desk.

"I didn't do index cards but we went over the numbers. We sat down and looked at the data. But when we were doing it...it was like Josh wasn't paying attention."

"Was he working on three other things at the same time?" I ask, trying to speed the conversation along. I really don't want to be sitting behind Josh's desk when he gets back from Leo's office.

"No, he wasn't doing anything else at the time. He was just distracted, like he couldn't concentrate."

Great.

Josh being unable to concentrate is the first sign of trouble. It's preceded every panic attack, PTSD episode and general illness that I can remember. "OK, thanks for telling me. If I were you I would just try and steer clear of Josh for the rest of the day. Why don't you go over and see if anyone in Communications needs help?"

"Fine," mutters Ryan as he turns to leave. "Is Josh ok?" he askes quietly, one hand on the door knob.

"I don't know," I answer honestly with a small sigh. Any lingering pissed off feelings I had towards Josh disappear as he comes into the office a minute later. He collapses in his visitors chair and props his feet up on the corner of the desk. "Leo's not taking my calls," he mutters with a sharp edge to his voice. I can't think of anything helpful to say so I come out from behind his desk, close the door and kneel down next to him. I slip his jacket off, tossing it aside with one hand as I tug on his tie to loosen it a little. I brush back his hair in a not so subtle move to check his temperature. He's a little warm and he looks like crap, he's pale and he looks more tired than he should at 3 in the afternoon.

"What's next on the schedule?" he asks as he rubs wearily at his eyes.

"You have a 7:30 dinner reservation at Morton's with Matt Skinner, a few phone calls to return, we need to do mail and you have some memos to read."

"Great," he mutters with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "So where's Ryan? Stuck in the copy room?"

"I sent him to see if he could help Ginger and Bonnie."

"So I guess he gloated about how he made me look like an idiot in the Oval Office," snorts Josh as he moves his feet a little. They land inches away from the pile of files and I give him a death glare as I move them to a safer place.

"Not at all. I think he was a little worried about you. Did you go over the numbers with him?"

"He didn't do index cards."

"Josh, that's not what I asked," I say with a hint of warning in my voice. I'm done being pissed but I'm not having a lot of patience at the moment.

"Yeah we went over them. I couldn't concentrate, the numbers were just...just swimming around on the page. I don't know. I just...I don't feel right today," he admits softly. I know how hard it is for him to admit that.

"OK, tell me what's going on," I whisper as I pat his knee. Josh leans over putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"I can't concentrate," he repeats. "My head hurts a little but I don't really feel sick or anything, just not myself."

I press my hand to his cheek. "You're a little warm. Not too bad. Have you eaten anything?" I ask, really quite clueless as to what is going on. I don't think Josh has a clear idea either.

"I had yogurt and tea for breakfast. A couple of cups of coffee. I guess that was it," he mutters as he gives me an appropriately guilty look.

"Josh," I warn. "OK so I'll get you something to eat in a few minutes. What else?"

"I've been a little stiff and sore. I didn't sleep well last night. And no, I didn't take a pill."

"OK, so how about a snack, a nap and a hot shower before you meet Matt for dinner?"

"A snack and a nap, what is this nursery school?" he says with a laugh as he pulls his feet off the desk.

"Hey, whatever works and gets you through the day in one piece," I tease as I gently pull him to his feet.

Forty five minutes later and I've gotten Josh to eat some soup and half a grilled chicken sandwich. He's currently digging in his heels about finding somewhere to crash for a while. But I've called for back up. And here she comes now.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Bartlet."

"Hey Donna. Where is he?"

"He's in there," I say, motioning towards Josh's office while I sit back down. I sort of forgot to mention I'd called the First Lady so I think I'll just wait at my desk.

**********************

OK, I think I ate enough to satisfy Donna. It wasn't that the food wasn't good, but I just have no appetite. I've been fighting her on the nap idea. So I'm reading my memos and I've finished my phone calls.

Maybe she'll just forget about the nap.

"Joshua Lyman, nap time." Ugh, she called for backup.

"Good afternoon Mrs. B." I say as I hop up out of my chair. Hopping was a bad idea as pain is now shooting down my leg. "Sit down," she orders as she rolls her eyes at me. "So what's up?"

I shrug my shoulders and spill everything, even though there's not really all that much to spill.

"And now the two of you think I should take a nap," I whine as I cross my arms over my chest, doing a very good imitation of a stubborn pre-schooler.

"If you can look me in the eye and tell me you're not the least bit tired you can get back to work," he says as she leans across the desk to get in my face a little.

"Can't do it," I mutter as I let my head drop down on my desk.

"Didn't think so. Come on, lets go," Mrs. B says as pats my head as if I am a preschooler. "If you don't complain too much I'll even let you sleep in the Lincoln Bedroom," she teases as she pries the files I've just picked up out of my hand. "I'm taking him upstairs. He'll be in the Lincoln Bedroom," Mrs. B. says to Donna as we step out into the bullpen.

"I'll come wake you at 6:30," Donna says with an evil smirk.

"Yeah, you won this round," I mutter as I let Mrs. Bartlet lead me down the hall, but not until she removes my cell phone and my pager from my belt. She tosses them to Donna who has a triumphant look on her face as drops the items into her top drawer.

I had to admit the bed in the Lincoln Bedroom looks mighty inviting as I'm all but shoved inside. "Sit down," she motions towards the nearest chair. I notice her black bag, the one she's not supposed to have, is sitting on a nearby table. I figure that compliance is probably my best course of action. I pull my tie off and unbutton my shirt while she digs in the bag.

She takes my blood pressure, it's high.

My pulse, apparently not too impressive either.

My temperature, running a little over normal.

I flinch when she presses her fingers against my lower back.

I can tell she's not real happy with any of her findings.

"OK, take these and get in bed," she say as she hands me a couple of Advil and pours me a glass of water. I take the pills and toe off my shoes while Mrs. Bartlet pulls back the quilt on the massive bed in the middle of the room. God, I'm about to be tucked in by the First Lady. There's a knock on the door and while she answers it I quickly drop my pants to the floor and crawl under the covers before she gets a glimpse of me in my Cat in the Hat boxers. I don't think I'd ever live that one down.

Mrs. B. puts a White House bathrobe and a few clean towels on the chair at the end of the bed. She draws the blinds and sits on the edge of the bed. "When are you going to start taking care of yourself?" she asks as she turns out the lamp on the night stand.

"January 21, 2007," I mutter as I close my eyes. Mrs. Bartlet doesn't respond, not a good sign. I crack my eyes open, she has this look on her face. It kind of reminds me of the look my mom gives me when she's completely exasperated with me. Donna gives me the same look pretty frequently too. "Soon?" I answer meekly.

"Got that right," she says as she pulls the quilt up around me and ruffles my hair. Suddenly I feel 6 years old. And frankly, it's a nice feeling. "Get some sleep," Mrs. Bartlet says with a warning edge to her voice. She gives me a quick kiss on the forehead, causing me to blush, I'm sure. "There's an agent down the hall if you need anything."

************************

Since I haven't heard from anyone in the residence I think it is safe to assume that Josh fell asleep. Either that or Mrs. Bartlet just gave up and sedated him. Believe me; the thought has crossed my mind many times.

It's now 6:20 and I'm standing outside the Lincoln Bedroom. I haven't spent much time in the Residence and I am a little intimidated by my surroundings. I wasn't even sure where the Lincoln Bedroom was but a nice agent helped me find it. I open the door carefully, in case Josh is still asleep. He is dead to the world, curled up facing me. I sneak in, turning on the light in the bathroom so I can see a little. Doing that causes Josh to stir.

"Hey," I whisper as I sit down on the edge of the bed. Josh rubs his eyes and smiles.

"What time is it?" he mumbles as he struggles to sit up.

"Almost 6:30. You need to get in the shower."

Josh pushes back the covers, revealing his Cat in the Hat boxers. The same ones I stole from him in California. Apparently he stole them back from me. "Uh, Josh..."

"No, the First Lady did not see me in my boxers. And I stole them back from you last week when you did laundry at my place. Now out of my way," he teases as he brushes past me and heads for the bathroom. Josh closes the door to the bathroom and I start to pick up the various pieces of clothing he has strewn around the room. I grab his shirt and tie from the back of the chair by the door and his pants off of the floor. I sit down on the bed to empty the pockets of his pants.

I've never known a grown man to carry so much junk in his pockets. I bet he was the little boy who carried a frog to school in his pocket.

His wallet is so stuffed with receipts that it barely folds in half. He's got a handful of change, 3 pieces of hard candy, his keys, a dry cleaning ticket he swore I lost and a POST IT note from a week ago, reminding him to pick up his Paxil prescription. I imagine he forgot to do that. And if my calculations are right and he's remembered to take it each day, he took the last one this morning. He also has 3 pink WHILE YOU WERE OUT slips, Chapstick and what I assume are a couple of Advil, that are now sticky and lint covered.

Gross.

I pull his belt free from his pants and fold them neatly over the back on the chair. When I hear the shower start I open the door. "Josh?"

"What, I'm in the shower," he yells back. He thinks he's so funny.

"Your clothes are on the counter. I forgot your sneakers in your office."

"My sneakers?" he asks as he sticks his head out from behind the curtain. That wet puppy dog look really works for him. "Donna, we have reservations at Morton's. It's not white tie but ya know, I think they frown on well worn Nikes."

"Congressman Skinner called. He doesn't feel like Morton's. He wants to go to the ESPN Zone and watch hockey. I told him I didn't think you'd be all that disappointed. I found a clean pair of jeans and a shirt in the back of your closet."

"Cool. So we'll do as men do," mutters Josh as he turns back under the shower, not realizing what he just said.

"Yeah, Joshua, you and Matt Skinner will do as men do. You two can drink, eat food that's bad for you and watch hockey. You can pick up the waitresses and he can have the waiters," I snort as I leave the room before he has a chance to splash water on me.

Fifteen minutes later and I've flipped through two magazines I found on the table. Josh just turned off the shower. Darn, if I had left the clothes out here he would have had to have come out wearing only a towel.

I'm just not concentrating today either.

When he comes out he is fully dressed. Oh well. In his worn jeans and plaid shirt with a white t-shirt under it he looks at least 10 years younger than he is.

"You look much better. See what a nap and a shower can do for you?" I tease as I smooth down his hair a bit. I forgot to bring up a comb. "Feel better?" I ask seriously.

"Yeah, I think so. The nap did help. The shower too," he admits as he makes a vague motion towards his back.

"Good. Matt will meet you there at 7:30. I'm going to finish a few things and leave early too."

"You can leave now," he says as he grabs his shoes and pants, leaving me to grab his shirt and tie. "You deserve an early night."

"I deserve a month of early nights," I snort as we get to the stairs.

"Yeah, yeah,"

Twenty minutes later and we are on our way. I've decided to spend my evening at the Barnes and Noble. Just me, some books and a grande cup of Starbucks coffee. The fact that the Barnes and Noble is right next door to the ESPN Zone, purely coincidental. But that does mean that I get an extra 10 minutes with Josh tonight as we walk over there.

I think I am in serious need of help. I spend around 18 hours a day with the man and now I'm trying to get an extra 10 minutes.

Ah heavenly.

A new romance novel from the bookstore, Fresh Ginger and Lime bubbles from Bath and Body Works and the new Josh Groban CD. What more could a girl ask for?

A girl could probably ask for a guy to share the bath with.

But I assume the guy I'd want in my bathtub is currently drunk after two beers and leering at some waitress. So my book and my CD will have to do.

As I'm getting dressed after my very satisfying bath the phone rings.

I just love Caller ID.

"What could you possibly want?" I mutter into the phone, trying my best to sound annoyed but not even coming close.

"Hey Donna," Josh says quietly. He doesn't sound completely drunk but he doesn't sound good either. He also sounds like he's right outside the......door.

Yeah, there he is, I can see him standing on the front steps of my building. Congressman Skinner is with him. There's no snow to make snowballs so I guess Josh had to actually use the phone.

I buzz them in while making sure my flannel pajamas are completely buttoned. Not that I care if Josh sees me half dressed. But Matt Skinner, that's another story, even though it wouldn't particularly matter to him. Anyway.

Josh comes up the stairs first. He's not staggering, that's a good sign. But he looks tired, grumpy and vaguely uneasy. I look to Matt for an explanation as Josh walks past me and heads for the bathroom.

"Hi Donna. Sorry for coming by so late. Josh just didn't seem like he should be alone."

"What happened Congressman?" I ask as I take his coat and motion towards the couch.

"Please Donna, call me Matt." I nod and wait for him to continue. "I don't know. We had a good time. Drank a few beers, ate burgers, watched the hockey game but as the night wore on Josh got more and more distracted and a little agitated, jumpy. It might have just been the noise at the place but I don't know. Is it me or has he been a little...off lately?"

"Yeah, he's been a little off. I'm beginning think he's headed for real trouble. But I don't know what and I'm not sure why. As for bring him here, I was pretty sure he'd end up here eventually so don't worry about it."

Josh wanders out of the bathroom and paces for a few minutes. I go out into the kitchen to put some water on for tea. Matt talks to Josh while he paces. I can't hear their conversation but it's clear Josh is trying to hold things together.

Matt wanders into the kitchen as the kettle whistles. "Are you sure you don't want some tea?" I ask as he slips his coat back on.

"No. Thanks anyway. I have an early meeting tomorrow."

"OK. Thanks for dropping him off," I say with a grateful but weary smile.

"Not a problem. You take good care of him," Matt says with a hint of teasing in his voice, making me wonder how much Josh says about me to Matt.

"Josh, take the tea into the living room," I call as I walk Matt to the door. We chat for a minute before Matt gives me a very unexpected but very sweet kiss on the cheek.

"Guess, that's one gomer I don't have to worry about," Josh teases as I close the door behind me.

"Not in the least. So, how was dinner?"

"Good. Fine. I don't know," mutters Josh as he collapses on the couch, his feet ending up on the coffee table. He's clearly not ready to talk. And that's fine with me. It's late and frankly I don't have the energy for a deep conversation. I sit next to his feet and slip off his sneakers. Josh sips his tea for a minute before handing it to me to put down.

"I just got the new Josh Groban CD. Is it ok if I put it on?"

"It's your house Donna," he says, trying to tease.

"You know what I mean," I whisper, hoping he's not going to make me say it aloud.

"It's fine. I don't I could listen to your collection of Christmas music but I'm ok," he replies as he pulls the afghan off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs. He's trying to convey that everything is "ok", but I know differently. I press my hand against his forehead as I walk past him. He's cool and he gives me a grateful smile. For caring about him I guess.

*********

While Donna's getting the CD I turn off the lamp and light the candle on the coffee table. I never thought I'd enjoy candles but lately I've found them rather soothing. Donna got me started. We went to the mall one Sunday afternoon and she dragged me kicking and screaming in Yankee Candle and Bath and Body Works. I discovered there's some pretty cool stuff in both of them. I got an air freshener for my car that's leather scented. Donna says it smells like a good man. I should wear my leather jacket more often.

Donna and I settle down on the couch with the tea. She's not pressing me to talk and I'm grateful for that. It's not that I don't want to talk, it's that I honestly don't know what's wrong. Matt and I were having a nice time. The food and the beer were good, the game was even good. But I felt myself getting anxious and fidgety. I wasn't drunk, I don't think I finished my second beer. The music got too loud and the bar too crowded. Matt figured out pretty quickly that he needed to get me out of there. We walked for a few minutes, eventually stopping to sit on a bench in Freedom Plaza, watching people skateboard. I caught my breath and calmed down a little. I think I freaked Matt out, he was about to go find a paper bag for me to breath into. I tried to convince him to just let me go home but there was no way he was letting that happen. He offered me his couch and I declined. Then he hailed a cab and brought me here. He never even blinked when I gave the driver an address other than my own. I don't think it took him very long before he figured out where we were headed.

I knew Donna wouldn't be surprised that I showed up here. Although I'm sure she was expecting me to be drunk when I did. I just didn't want to be alone. It's just something she understands.

I haven't really been paying attention to the CD, it would take too much concentration but something in this song makes me listen.

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;

When troubles come and my heart burdened be;

Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,

Until you come and sit awhile with me.

I inhale sharply and Donna puts her arm around me, pulling me closer, settling my head on her shoulder. Her cheek rests against the top of my head and she sings along softly.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;

You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;

I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;

You raise me up: To more than I can be.

As I think about the chorus I realize it goes both ways. We both raise each other up and push each other to do more, to be more. The song ends and she kisses the top of my head before standing up. I'm suddenly grateful for a little distance between us. I'm really not in the mood to fall apart.

Donna takes our mugs back out to the kitchen and puts them in the sink. She comes back and sits in front of me on the coffee table. In the candlelight she looks absolutely beautiful. The idea of just throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her into her room runs through my mind. But that's not going to happen tonight. Maybe soon but not tonight.

"You want to stay here tonight?" she asks as she glances at the clock on the wall. I can only nod. "I think there's a pair of your pajama pants on the chair in the bedroom," she says as she heads for the bathroom.

I quickly change from my jeans into pajama pants. I'm faced with a decision. Do I brazenly crawl into Donna's bed, ask if I can crawl into her bed or just curl up on the couch? Well, Donna's getting the spare blanket out of the hall closet so I guess I'm on the couch.

*************

I'm not sure why I'm getting the blanket out for Josh. I'd bet money that we end up together in my bed sometime before dawn. Guess this is just my way of fooling myself into thinking differently. I toss the extra pillow on the end of the couch and spread out the blanket. I hear Josh in the bathroom brushing his teeth. I put a glass of water and a couple of Advil on the coffee table, in case he needs them. He's not drunk so I don't think I need to give him a Tupperware bowl to keep next to the couch.

While Josh settles down on the couch I check the front door, making sure the chain is on. As usual Josh curls up like a little kid and it's all I can do not to just tell him to come to bed with me. I scoot him back a little so I can perch on the couch next to him for a minute. I rub his back and it only takes a few minutes for him to fall asleep. I absently take his right hand, turning it over on my knee. In the faint light of the candle I can see the scars on his palm. They're almost insignificant when you compare them to the scars on his chest but seeing them is more painful for me. It's harder to look at them, knowing they're self inflicted. I press a gentle kiss to his palm and his fingers close reflexively into a fist as if to keep the kiss. Which starts the tears I've been holding in since "You Raise Me Up".

I pull the blanket up and blow out the candle before crawling, exhausted, into my own lonely bed.

*****************

I manage to wake myself up from the nightmare before I scream. At least, I don't think I screamed, Donna hasn't come running out of her bedroom so I'm pretty sure I didn't. I reach for the glass of water Donna left me and down it in a single gulp. That probably wasn't the smartest thing I've done. Noticing she didn't leave me a Tupperware bowl I stagger into the bathroom, shaky and nauseous. Splashing some cool water on my face helps a little. I'm pretty sure I'm not about to puke but maybe I should just sit on the edge of the tub for a minute.

*****************

The sound of Josh going into the bathroom wakes me from a dead sleep.

Good, it doesn't sound like he's getting sick. I turn over and try to go back to sleep but I can't. He's still in the bathroom but I don't hear anything. I try for another few minutes to just forget about him and go back to sleep but who am I kidding? It's not going to work. I slide out of bed, noting it's a little after 4 in the morning.

Josh didn't close the door to the bathroom all the way, nor did he bother to turn on the light. I can't actually see him but I can see his reflection in the mirror. He's sitting on the edge of the tub, elbows on his knees, chin on his hands. By the look on his face I can tell he had a nightmare but the only light in the room is coming from the nightlight so I can't really tell if he's crying. I don't think he is. He must have woken himself up at the beginning of the nightmare because he didn't scream.

He focuses his eyes and catches my reflection in the mirror. I push the door open and wordlessly hold out my hand to him. He bats it away and stands up on his own. Clearly not in the mood to talk he brushes past me and heads back out on the couch. I know not to take his actions personally. He desperately wants to make the point that he's fine, that he doesn't need me right now. A point that will probably fail in the next ten minutes or so.

I go back to bed, with no intention of sleeping until I hear Josh settle down in the living room. The noises give away his every move.

He wanders into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator, moves a few things around. The slight hissing noise tells me he just opened a can of ginger ale he found in the back of the fridge.

He paces the kitchen for a minute. The thud and the muffled curse lets me know he didn't turn on the light and he just walked into something, probably one of the kitchen chairs.

I hear him wander back into the living room, flick on the television and do a quick scan of the channels before shutting it back off.

The Josh Groban CD comes back on and I hear him scan through the songs with the remote, knowing what he's looking for.

As he...we...listen to "You Raise Me Up" we both cry. Silent tears trail down my face and I can hear Josh's muffled sobs, he's probably got the pillow pressed against his face. But I stay where I am, wanting to give him the space he needs.

I know I'm walking the fine line between giving him space and keeping him at arms length. But I think I'm doing a pretty good job. Over the last few weeks Josh has been more open about his feelings and his fears. I don't have to drag everything out of him anymore.

The song ends and the next one doesn't come on. I hear Josh toss the remote on the coffee table. He sighs deeply and I hear him shuffle towards my room. He appears in the doorway a few seconds later. The light in the hall illuminates him from behind so I can't make out his expression. I hold out my hand in a silent gesture as I push back the covers.

**************

I don't want to do this...to need this. I want to be strong. I want to be able to be alone. But I can't. Donna's holding out her hand to me and it's all I can do not to go flying across the room and into her bed. I pause in the doorway for a minute, weighing my options, my feelings and my need for some sleep.

My need to be comforted, my need to feel safe and my need for sleep win out over my need to be strong. A need that is very over-rated if you ask me.

I take Donna's hand and crawl into bed with her. She wraps her arms around me and holds me close. Despite a great effort on my part to hold them back, a few remaining tears squeeze out of my eyes. She wipes them away without saying anything.

**************

As stubborn as Josh is, it doesn't take more than a minute for him to let go of the few remaining tears and settle down in my arms. It's where he belongs...it's where we both belong.

When are we going to stop pretending this "thing" between us doesn't really exist?

It does exist and it is getting harder and harder to keep hidden.

Josh whispers something against my neck. "What, I didn't hear you?"

"You raise me up," he whispers, careful not to look me in the eye.

"We raise each other up," I correct him as I run my fingers through his hair.

He nods in agreement as I press a kiss to the top of his head.

Two minutes later I feel his breathing even out and his hand slip from mine as he finally sleeps.

THE END

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