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[sam pov]

I arrived back from Boston to a different world. A world where I wandered round in a semi-conscious daze, unaware of the time passing or what I had been doing for hours. An unreal world, a nightmare that you’d never want to encounter, hitting you with force every time your mind decided to remember the reality. Upside-down, an illusion, an insomniac period where night drifted into day without you realising, day into night, and where only one thought took over the space in my mind where others were supposed to be. ‘Why?’

There was no answer.

It was ironic, really. I’d been so optimistic that after my weekend to Boston and meeting Donna that everything was going to be okay, that it was going to revert back to what it once had been, that we’d all be one happy big family, hugging and smiling and doing other asinine things. And pigs might fly, and we’d have world peace at the same time.

Okay, so these weren’t my exact thoughts, but I had hoped somewhere in the back of my mind that the relationship between Josh and I, the currently tenuous friendship, might strengthen and become something more. Something where I wasn’t nervous talking to him about certain subjects, where we could both feel relaxed and start to become friends again. Things had recently been improving between us, I had managed to put aside my thoughts of disdain for what he had done to Donna, to us all, and surely it could only improve? I thought everything was going to be okay again.

How wrong I was.

I remember spending the evening when I returned doing the usual post-vacation activities. I unpacked all the clothes and other items that I had taken with me. I watched the news and called out for Chinese food because I had neither the energy nor the inclination to cook. I ate my sweet and sour chicken whilst watching a game that I had recorded the night before. In reality, I should have known immediately that something was wrong. I should have been called urgently to return from my weekend away because I was needed. I shouldn’t have had to rely upon Leo phoning me after I’d gone to bed informing me that Josh wouldn’t be in work the next day because something had occurred while I was having fun in Boston. Well, actually, whilst I was driving there, but that’s an irrelevant detail.

I hung up the phone, only really registering afterwards what Leo had told me; the medical jargon passing into my brain and then straight out again, except terms like unconscious, blood loss, head injury. The words that I didn’t want to register.

I started shaking from the bone-deep cold; the words I had heard circling round in my head, worse case situations announcing themselves unwelcome.

I pulled my comforter around me and brought my legs up to my body, trying to return to the state of warmth that I had originally been in. It didn’t work; the conventional methods were useless. I sat there longer than I know almost recovering, before the reality struck again and I was back to where I’d started, shivering, shaking.

I needed to do something to keep my mind off the thoughts that were accumulating, to occupy myself with something productive. But there was nothing that I could do, so I got out of bed, dragged my comforter along with me to the kitchen, made some coffee and turned on my computer. I only hoped that doing work, or checking emails, or whatever, would help.

I sat down, the comforter wrapped around my shoulders, encompassing me in a warm cocoon, and waited for the email program to load up. I had numerous new emails, most work-related, and I scanned the names for something to distract me.

Then I saw it, the name Donna Moss, subject Hey!

I opened it.

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To: Sam Seaborn <Sam.Seaborn@whitehouse.gov>
From: Donna Moss <Donnatella_Moss@aol.com>
Date: 8-21-02 23:06
Subject: Hey!

Hey,
You said email, so I emailed. Just checking you got back okay and the Government hasn’t fallen apart in your absence… Anyway, think I’m going to go to bed now, so write soon, won’t you? Don’t forget, or else I’ll be there in DC knocking on your door and never leaving you alone until you do… And that’s a promise.
Love, Donna
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I wondered what the hell I should say to Donna. Would Josh want me to contact her? Would she want to hear about Josh?

I remembered her saying something about him before we fell asleep on my bed that night, but what it was exactly, I didn’t know. Did she say something bad about him and I was supposed to know that mentioning his name around her would lead me into a near death experience of my own?

I decided to email her, started off, then I couldn’t decide what to write, so I deleted the message and told her nothing. I thought that I should leave it that way for a couple of days at least. Then I thought would she want to know, would she want to be here? And so I opened up the new message again and wrote her name before my mind went blank. The writer in me fading away into the background with the news that I had received, and I couldn’t think of a way to write that Josh had been in an accident without worrying her unnecessarily.

I spent the rest of that night trying to think about what I should do, in regards to the email as well as many other topics. Should I go to the hospital, should I tell Donna, should I get flowers, should I have done something in order to stop this even occurring; the list was endless. It went round and round my head into the early hours of the morning and wouldn’t allow me to catch even 10 minutes of sleep.
I decided in the end to visit him whether he was awake or asleep, and to discuss with his mother if I should contact Donna.

I eventually did get to sleep, my dreams plagued with disturbing images of Josh in the accident and even a few from the night of the shooting, but in this case I was shot instead of Josh whilst I tried to save him. Then I was in the accident, the car heading straight for me whilst I was powerless to do anything to stop it. I remember waking up at several intervals, breathing heavily and sweating. The dreams were so vivid. I could almost imagine what it would be like to be Josh, and the feelings didn’t fill me with hope. I ended up phoning my mother just to let her know that I was okay, because that was all I could think of. If something had happened to me, would anyone care? Would anyone know? And because it was the nighttime, everything seemed so much worse than it did in the light of day.

My mother was actually awake when I called at 5:30, and I didn’t share my troubles with her, just relished in the sound of her voice. The fact that she was there for me, that she knew I loved her, was all I wanted her to know.

I got up a little after 6:30, having spent a good hour on the phone to my mom, just talking about everything and nothing. I called Leo and let him know that I would be late because I had to go to the hospital to see how Josh was in person, and his answer machine was surprisingly accepting of my decision.

It was about 8 o’clock when I got to the hospital. I walked to the nurse’s desk and asked which room Josh was in. I got as far as the door and saw Josh’s mom sitting beside him, Josh lying there, motionless. I just couldn’t face it, I couldn’t go in, I couldn’t let Josh’s mother see what I had become, what I bad friend I was. I ended up going back to the waiting room and sitting there, head in hands, sitting and reflecting over everything that had happened and blaming myself. I ran through the conversations we’d had, the hours that we had spent together, and I couldn’t face myself anymore. I was a bad friend; I hadn’t been there for him when he needed me. I wasn’t the nice person that everyone thought I was.

Then CJ came by. She sat beside me and basically told me to get over myself, told me that we could help now, not think about the past. The future was important. I asked her if Josh would agree before I gathered myself together and walked slowly to his room. I stood outside, watching again, feeling as though I shouldn’t be there before knocking quietly on the door. Josh’s mother looked to the door and saw me and motioned for me to enter.

“How are you?” I stupidly asked her.

“I’m….” She struggled for an answer. “I’m as well as can be expected under the circumstances, I suppose,” she said, and I nodded, not knowing what to say.

“How is he doing?” I asked for my second ridiculous question.

Josh’s mother breathed deeply, and said nothing for a minute. Then she moved her head round and looked me in the eye. “The doctors won’t say much either way.” Another pause. “It’s not good, it’s not good,” she repeated, making me feel even worse than I had before. Now I would never have the opportunity to apologise. But then I realised that this wasn’t about me. I wasn’t a factor here.

“I noticed,” his mother started. “I noticed that Donna wasn’t here. Does she know?” she asked me, and I looked away, not knowing what to say.

“Donna’s in Boston,” I said eventually. “She left a few months back. After a fight.” His mother looked somewhat downhearted by this news.

“I just thought that maybe, maybe her being here might help,” she said with such hope that I felt awful for having told her.

“I saw her over the weekend. We met each other unexpectedly,” I told her, trying my best to give her as much good news as possible. “I considered emailing her, but, what… what would Josh want?”

“He loved her, loves her,” his mother replied. “Whether he knows it or not. I wouldn’t get her involved in all this, but…” she trailed off, but her meaning was clear.

I nodded but had nothing to say. I spent the next few minutes in silence watching as Josh breathed in and out, as his mother looked on in hope and fear. There was nothing that I could have said or done that would have helped. After about fifteen minutes of silence I couldn’t stand it any more and went out to the waiting room to CJ. I couldn’t help myself; as soon as I was free of the room, of the tensions and feeling surrounding it, everything overwhelmed me. I tried to hold it all back, but the tears fell freely the second that I was out of the room. I didn’t have to be strong for anyone when I was on my own; no false sentiments of hope were going to help.

The tears were freely flowing when I entered the waiting room. CJ looked up, and the moment her face saw me, it fell into complete despair. And I wanted to reassure her, tell her that it was all going to be okay, but I couldn’t.

I couldn’t tell her that Josh was fine, that I knew that he’d pull through. She looked at me with hope shining through the tears that were starting to form and I told her “It doesn’t look good.”

The tears cascaded with more force from my eyes, I’d let myself know the secret that I was trying to deny – nothing was the same as it had been. Nothing would ever be the same and no matter how much.

CJ and I cried together for a while to come, locked in each others embrace, not a word passing between us, and I felt more so than ever that I had let Josh down.

Later she visited Josh herself and I went to the White House in order to start work. Leo caught me as I entered the West Wing but said nothing. He didn’t reprimand me for not turning up in time, instead gave me a sympathetic smile, hiding his despair to himself. I entered my office, but I couldn’t bring myself to do any work. Every time I started, I could see him in my head; a snap shot of Josh lying still in the hospital bed, tubes and God only knows what else leading everywhere, his mother looking at me, pleading with her eyes for me to help in some way. What way, I didn’t know, except that I had to tell Donna.

It took me some time to try and construct the best way to tell her that Josh was in hospital and might not recover fully, but there was not one way of putting this tactfully, and in the end I decided to write whatever came into my head.

I opened up a new message and typed in Donna’s email address.

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To: Donna Moss <Donnatella_Moss@aol.com>
From: Sam Seaborn <Sam.Seaborn@whitehouse.gov>
Date: 8-22-02 10:11
Subject: Josh

Donna,
Thanks for your email. I don’t know how to word this, but there is something that I have to tell you.
It’s about Josh; he’s not well. I only found out this morning when Leo phoned me. He was in a car accident on Friday. I spent the weekend in Boston and no one told me.

I’ve spent the last hour trying to think of a way to ask you this, and all I can say is please, please come back here, if only for a few days. Josh needs you; I need you. It doesn’t look good and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this without you.

If you feel that you don’t want to come back, I understand, but we all know that he loves you, and none of us can survive without you.

Love, Sam
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I sent it before reading through it, then read it and thought that I’d written it all wrong. It didn’t say what I wanted it to say, it sounded as though I was trying to guilt her into returning, but I had known that this way there was nothing that I could do about it but worry.

I spent the rest of the day trying to get through meetings with various people, trying to concentrate on writing speeches for various reasons, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything because the person that I had let down so badly could be dying, could be dead at that moment, and it was more than I could take.

I left at 6 o’clock having done nothing of the work that I had wanted to, not being concerned enough with any of the congressmen and businessmen that I had met with to make much of a difference. So much so that Ginger had to schedule more meetings with the majority of the people for a different time.

I saw Ainsley on my way out, and asked her if she would like to come back to my house to watch a movie or something. Truth be told, all I needed was human contact, someone to keep me sane, someone to help me through the night.

I couldn’t face going back to see Josh, to see the pleading that his mother silently sent me to help him. I needed someone who wasn’t going to judge me, and Ainsley was there. I’m sure that she saw right through my request, but she agreed to join me anyway. I was upset, convinced that it was all my fault, but here was someone who would still be friends with me despite all that. I had liked Ainsley almost from the moment that she had come to the White House, despite Josh’s convictions that no Republican was worthy of talking to.

We walked to my car in complete silence, before she told me that she was going to take her own car and follow me home if I still wanted her company. I nodded.

I got into my car, and drove home, ensuring that Ainsley was behind me at all times. We got to my apartment, and we entered, and I invited Ainsley to sit on the couch before I burst into tears again, the sobs convulsing through my body with heart-wrenching bursts of energy. Ainsley got me to the couch and drew me into her arms and held me tightly, stroking my back before eventually succumbing to the tears herself. We remained in a similar position, clinging to one another for many hours, not saying anything beyond Ainsley’s half-hearted reassurance that everything would be okay. And I wanted to believe her, but I wasn’t sure that I could.

Finally the tears subsided and we were still holding onto one another, and she kissed my head, forehead, and cheek before we found ourselves desperately kissing one another on the lips with force. And we both knew that this had stemmed from a need for the contact of anyone, but it didn’t finish with that.

When we woke up in the morning, naked and in each other’s arms, I knew that I didn’t want this to be a one-time occurrence, it wasn’t just about that need for me. And I don’t think it was about that for her, either. There was definite attraction there, but I didn’t think that I could actually act on it for some time to come. Ironic, when I thought about it, but I couldn’t do that because of Josh.

I smiled at Ainsley as she stirred and eventually woke. The alarm went off shortly after and we had to get up. There was some awkwardness, which I had anticipated.

“Thanks,” I said in my screwed up way to get over the embarrassment and reassure her that it wasn’t just the one night. “For last night, thank you,” I rephrased hesitantly.

She smiled, it wasn’t entirely sincere, but neither was it contrived. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’d better be going.” And that was it for her. I couldn’t leave it like that.

“You know,” I started, and then I stopped. “Y’know… I do like you. And if you wanted, maybe we could get together some time?” I asked hopefully.

Ainsley looked at me, her smile brightening.

“Really?” she questioned. “You’d like to go out with me on some other occasion?” I could tell that she wasn’t convinced, and I wasn’t sure whether this was a slight on me, or on my skills at asking out women. I decided to try again.

“Some other time, some better time, I’d love to have dinner with you,” I told her. “Not yet, but I’d definitely like to repeat last night,” I said.

She blushed, and as she got out of bed she turned and kissed my head. “I understand,” she told me. “And I’d love to,” she answered before dressing and saying goodbye, exiting my apartment.

I showered and shaved, and returned to the hospital before my meeting began.

Nothing had changed, Josh was still lying still and pale against the hospital sheets, his mother sitting there in a constant vigil, interrupted only by a 5 minute break to get some coffee and food from the restaurant. I took the opportunity to talk to him, to tell him for five minutes what I was thinking.

“Josh… Josh, I don’t know if you can hear me, and if you can I bet you’re laughing at me, but hear me out anyway,” I started. “I want us to be friends again, I want to forget the past, I want you to forgive me for being such an awful friend to you. I saw Donna the other day, while I was in Boston. We talked a lot. She’s happy there but not as happy as she was here. I’ve emailed her, asked her to come back to see you. I’ll tell you what she says. Everything at work is going okay without you. Hate to tell you this, but you’re not necessary for the running of the country, we can actually survive without you. But don’t tell Leo I told you that, he’s pissed because he’s got to do all your work as well as his own. And Marbury is annoyed that you’re getting all the attention at the moment. Apparently there was an increase in numbers for your fan club ever since you’ve been in here. And can I just say that it was one of the tabloids that reported that this morning, and I didn’t go and actually find out the information,” I started to say more, when I heard a muffled laugh behind me.

“You’re actually going to try and boost that insatiable ego of his by telling him that subscription to his fan club has increased?” the voice said, and I turned round.

“Donna!” I exclaimed, hugging her with all my might, so that she told me to let her go. “It’s wonderful to see you,” I said. “I only wish it could have been under better circumstances.” I looked towards Josh, and Donna followed suit.

“How is he?” she asked in a quieter voice than she’d used before.

I said nothing in reply, but Donna apparently needed nothing other than to see him to get her confirmation of the situation.

“Oh God,” she said, grabbing onto my hand for support. I could see tears begin to form in her eyes, and so gave her a less binding hug than before.

“They’re doing everything that they can,” I told her unnecessarily.

“But it’s not enough,” she concluded. “It’s not enough.” The tears were starting to fall lazily down her cheeks at this point, and I could understand. She sat down beside his bed, something which I had not allowed myself to do since it required being close to him, and kept my hand in hers, forcing me to walk further forward from my position near the door. She then took his hand in her free hand and brought it up to her cheek, stroking it against the side of her face, the tears being wiped to the side. I eventually let her hand go, allowing her to use both of her hands to take his, and I stepped away from this seemingly intimate display.

I exited the room, yet more tears falling that I hadn’t noticed whilst I was in the room, and stood outside for a minute, watching as Donna brushed her hand through his hair in an attempt to tidy it as she kissed his hand. I watched as she talked to him with far more ease than I had, and wondered what had happened between them. I felt someone join me and turned slightly to see Josh’s mother watching the same display.

Neither of us said a thing. We only watched for a few minutes before my pager bleeped indicating that I needed to phone the office, only to be told that I should be in for staff. I made my excuses and left.

The next month followed in a similar fashion, get up in the morning, go to the hospital, to work, to home, try to sleep, get up, hospital, work, home, sleep, up, hospital, work, home, sleep, up. And so on in an almost endless cycle. And as much as my depression had got hold of me before, my elation when we heard that Josh had a chance, would survive, was awake, was talking, was up and about was just as great.

And still I stood away from the action, unsure as to whether Josh really wanted my input, my help. As it turned out, he interpreted my reluctance to come close as a question of whether I would help, would forgive, or would be there for him. He announced his decision to go back to his mother’s to recuperate a week before he was due to leave the hospital, and while I wondered why it was that he wouldn’t be staying in DC, why he didn’t even ask for my help, I said nothing and was supportive.

And I honestly meant to come to see him on the day that he was going to Connecticut, but things built up, there was some minor emergency situation and so it was after 5 when I got to the hospital.

I went to the nurse’s desk and the receptionist informed me after a brief consultation of her computer and some papers that he had left early this morning with his mother.

I went straight home and after a few minutes decided to phone Ainsley. Everything had changed, and I had to treat it as such. Josh was in Connecticut and that was that. I was here, I wasn’t getting any younger, and I’d had my life on hold too long.

Ainsley agreed to my request to meet her for dinner and so I set about trying to forget about Josh. Perhaps I’d phone him in a couple of weeks or so, but for now I had a date to get ready for.

We spent the next month physically as though nothing was different. Josh wasn’t there, but we didn’t mention it with any regularity, just occasions when you’d stop and think that something wasn’t right, someone was missing. The moments when you walked to his office to ask him if he wanted to go to lunch, or watch a game on TV, and you remembered that he was in Connecticut. Or at least you’d assume that he was there; no one had had any contact with him since he’d left without saying goodbye.

And the days passed, and the weather got colder, and the congressmen became more demanding and the Republican’s tried to unearth yet more reasons as to why we shouldn’t be in office for the next term. And we campaigned yet harder, tried to persuade the American public that we were the right people for Governing their country and everything was the same and everything was different.

I kept in contact with Donna, sending emails maybe a couple of times a week, both of us studiously skirting round the issue we both knew we wanted to discuss most. She told me about her new boyfriend, her job, her family, what she’d done the other day, what she’d watched on TV, how her now ex-boyfriend was a complete jerk unworthy of anyone’s time, about her friends in Boston. And I read, looking forward to the next email she would send.

She wished us luck for the upcoming election, which was just over a month away, and I offered my dating advice, told her to come visit anytime. I reminded her that we’d have to go out sometime, and I told her about my dates with Ainsley, our relationship, such that it was, was progressing quite nicely considering work pressures. And thus the pattern continued. Onwards and forwards, never looking back.

And then he returned. We’d not spoken in over a month, it passed so quickly and yet so slowly, and I wasn’t sure whether it seemed only yesterday that he’d left, or if we were like strangers greeting each other, old friends separated by years and distance. I wasn’t sure how to approach him. I’d let him down in ways, and I was angry in other ways and I didn’t know who Josh was going to be this time. My time during that first week was spent working as hard as I could, due to the reelection but also as some sort of inner barrier, a way of keeping distance from Josh and from everyone else. It took me until the end of the week to decide to ask him out for a drink, to reminisce and to see if things could return to how they once had been.

It seemed that they could. Josh had regained his inner strength, it seemed; his confidence was back to the levels of the Josh I remembered from first having met him; the arrogance that he could achieve anything he wanted was back in full force.

And he was still as much a lightweight as ever.

I smiled internally at this knowledge; some things would never change.

And a couple of drinks later the atmosphere was relaxed enough that the silence that had pervaded the atmosphere was no longer awkward.

“Donna’s in Boston,” I informed him and I wondered why. “I found her when I went to a birthday thing. She’s working for my friend in a law firm,” I continued regardless, and it certainly got Josh’s interest.

He looked at me, many unasked questions wanting to be addressed, and he eventually asked how she was, whether she had asked about him. He seemed so eager it was almost amusing, but I replied anyway without laughing.

It had several weeks since I had remembered the strange conversation between Donna and I. A conversation where she told me that she had slept with Josh. And it was a conversation that I honestly couldn’t remember whether I had had whilst drunk, or whether it was something that I had imagined. It had begun to fester in my thoughts and frankly, it was bugging me enough to find out whether it was purely in my head or not.

“She was fine, but she told me something. About you.” I decided to go for it, I could always blame my strange and often twisted dreams. I have no idea what was causing me to be so forthright, to discuss this with someone who was possibly no better than a stranger. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps seeing Josh almost as I remembered had filled me with some sort of confidence, making me forget that we had barely spoken in a number of months.

He asked what I’d been told, what Donna had said about him and I almost didn’t tell him, but I wanted to find out what had happened between my friends, I couldn’t allow it to remain unresolved if possible.

“She told me… something about you sleeping together,” I said as vaguely as possible waiting to see if Josh would laugh in my face at such a preposterous notion.

But instead Josh’s face hinted at recognition, almost happy, even. And I decided that this could perhaps not have been the imagination that I had blamed, maybe it had really happened, and maybe it was the key to gaining back some of the friendship with Josh that I had lost over the last few months. Then I decided that I had been dreaming it and that Josh was merely trying to contain his amusement. I waited for the laughter that didn’t come.

A few seconds too late he asked “Did she?” and I got the impression that he was trying to not sound elated, not to sound as though he had any recollection, but it fell short by about a mile.

“You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if it was true?” I asked, not quite knowing the truth from my hazy memory but wanting to see Josh’s reaction, to see if he could trust me again.

“We did,” he told me after a moment, and I think I kind of over did the reaction. Because I was almost sure that I had dreamt up the conversation, and because I didn’t expect Josh to admit to it if he had. He laughed at my expression, and asked, “What, like you weren’t expecting it?”

I stuttered a few words incoherently. He laughed at me yet more as a good friend would.

“I…of course…I… I…” There was nothing that I could think to say. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but I don’t think honesty was what I had hoped for. His face changed, the laughter was still there, but a different expression, one of perhaps nostalgia, came upon his features, and it was mere seconds before he started with the tale.

“We were so drunk. It was the Illinois Primary, and I bet even you don’t remember what the hell you did that night. I woke up with her in my arms and I thought that life couldn’t get any better, and when I woke again, well, she was gone. She obviously didn’t share the feeling.” It was a bitter irony, a short laugh; a definitive knowledge that life didn’t turn out the way you wanted.

I was struck silent for a minute, I couldn’t believe that such a small misunderstanding had lead to the culmination of such misery for my friends, maybe because naively I believed in love, in true happiness and I didn’t want this to have been the end. But I was certain that Donna reciprocated the feelings, and that made it all the much more depressing.

“I think she did,” I said eventually. The truth was that she still felt more than he would believe; she wouldn’t have returned for anything less.

“If she did then she wouldn’t have left,” he said, with a hint of anger and even defeat.

I didn’t know which time he was talking about, and I would have been surprised had he known himself.

“She wouldn’t have left,” he repeated almost in a whisper, an echo. And I couldn’t believe that life could be so cruel that someone with such self-confidence, such self-assurance could be lead to doubt something that I knew to be true. But I didn’t question it. I almost wish that I had, that I had convinced him that he was wrong, that Donna always had been there for him, had loved him, and always would. But I didn’t.

I changed the subject, tried to make him laugh, lift his spirits, and I think I achieved it with tales of woe about certain republicans and politics and everything and anything that I could think of. And he was the friend that I remembered, but more grown up, more mature, but laughed at my stories, particularly those about Ainsley, and it was like the old times. Then I got stupid and asked about the tobacco thing, and he quickly hid inside himself, diverted the questions, and I stopped asking.

A brunette then came to our table, and they started flirting, and I tuned out. Josh had to get on with his life. I wasn’t certain that he was past Donna yet, but that was none of my business.

For the next few hours I conversed with a congressman about the upcoming election amongst more social topics while Josh entertained his friend.

She left later and Josh rejoined me and told me that he was going to meet up with her in a couple nights time and I foolishly asked about Donna. He told me, unconvincingly, that he was glad that she had left, and he told me that he was glad that she had got away, that she was free of him.

I suddenly felt so sorry for him, a pity that I had not felt throughout the whole scandal episode. He wasn’t sorry that she had left, but it seemed as if he wanted to get away from the topic, and instead I pressed him. I wanted to know; I wanted to find out what reason there was for those many months of misery, of hatred and contempt. And he caved and told me. And I certainly wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing.

He trusted me, and then he left. He left as he had left on far too many occasions before, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I couldn’t think beyond what he had told me.

Josh wasn’t a complete bastard; he wasn’t working against us, he was protecting us all, more precisely he was protecting Donna and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. My life was turned upside down as much as it had been changed before and only this time I had no reason to yell at Josh, no one to blame, and I couldn’t get over that fact.

I went back to my apartment and sat down on my couch and poured a large scotch. I downed it in one gulp, the liquid burning the back of my mouth, but that didn’t deter me from taking another large mouthful from a second glass, then a third.

I sat still in shock, comforting myself with only the alcohol for another hour or so. It was selfish and almost self-pitying without reason, but I couldn’t get past the whole idea. The last few months had been a complete lie, there was no ulterior motive in which Josh was working for some opposing side; there was no reason for Donna to have been hurt, to have left.

And there was no reason as to why I should have felt so betrayed, so left out, either now or back in the beginning. But I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t prevent my self-pity, as much as I told myself to get over it, I didn’t understand why Josh hadn’t told me in the first place. I had once been his best friend. I had once been his partner in crime. And now there was nothing but a tenuous relationship between us, friendship hanging by threads.

I phoned Ainsley that night and cried on her, blaming the alcohol. I contemplated emailing Donna, but I had nothing to tell her. Ainsley came round later and held me in her arms as I cried some more incoherently. And she held me later as we fell asleep after I had made love to her with all the desperation that I had shown the night after that I had found out that Josh had been in an accident. She didn’t question my motives, didn’t ask what was wrong, and I was thankful for that. There was nothing that I could have told her that night that she could have understood.

Josh and I quickly became almost as close as we had been before. He went to Boston on business and I said nothing about Donna or Maggie. And I said nothing more when he stayed there several days longer than was expected, nor when he finally arrived home happier than I thought I’d ever seen him, more enthusiastic about work than before. I only decided not to question him on the subject since it was obvious that Maggie had exacted a change in him for the better.

As Election Day got nearer still we all forgot the past and concentrated on the future, practically living in our offices as we worked harder alongside the campaign staff.

Although we had surpassed all expectations already by the President becoming the Democratic candidate after the whole MS and tobacco issues, we were fighting an almost upward struggle as the Republican candidate used this and more against us. The predicted polling numbers were rising for us but they were still in the Republican’s favour.

We wanted to win; we needed to win for the good of the country and everything else was ignored or neglected. We talked little amongst ourselves as the day grew nearer, and even less on the day. I was extremely nervous, not even wanting to think about what would happen if we didn’t win, and hoping for some sort of miracle.

There were several surprises on that day, but one shocked me far more than the rest, and it took a while for me to recover.

END OF PART FIVE

[part six]

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