Chapter Text
“Mom!” Josh calls through the house the second he walks through the door. “I’m home!”
The campaign has decided to move out of New Hampshire, and the advance team is headed down to South Carolina tonight. The staff is split between staying in Nashua and heading to Charleston, with a few of them stopping in various cities along the way for meetings with donors, supporters, or elected officials still on the fence.
And that’s what brings them to Westport on a Tuesday night.
“Joshua?” a voice calls out from the kitchen before a woman appears in the doorway. Drying her hands on a dish towel, Rachel Lyman’s smile lights up the room the second her eyes land on her baby boy.
“I brought some friends,” Josh grins as he points over his shoulder to where Sam, CJ, and Toby are making their way through the front door, “hope that’s alright.”
“It’s more than alright,” Rachel smiles at her son, pulling him in for a big hug as he bends down slightly to bury his face in her shoulder.
She’s not exactly a short woman but with to her son and her husband (and with CJ now standing next to her) she’s always seemed small by comparison. Her waves of auburn hair, now with a few gray streaks running through them, are pulled back tonight, a telltale sign that she’s cooking something for the return of her boy.
Sam’s the first of the bunch to make his way over and say hi, having met both her and Noah a few times back when he and Josh were still interns in DC. Toby follows close behind, waiting to introduce himself while CJ’s still taking off her coat, and Donna finally makes it in the house last, suitcase in tow, and shutting the door behind her.
Rachel shuffles the other three guests into the kitchen after they’ve all thanked her for letting them stay for dinner (“You all could use a home cooked meal.” “I’ll take anything that isn’t chips from a vending machine honestly.”) by the time she reaches Donna.
“Hi, Mrs. Lyman,” Donna smiles, setting her bag down and extending her hand, “I’m Donna—we’ve talked on the phone a few times.”
“Donna Moss,” Rachel grins, shaking the girl’s hand before taking her coat, “it’s lovely to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” Donna agrees, looking around the front room. “You have a lovely home, thank you again for letting us stay here tonight.”
While the other three are only staying for dinner, Josh and Donna are staying the night. CJ and Toby have meetings in New York City in the morning, and Sam’s stopping down in Princeton tomorrow to meet with some old college buddies before heading down to Charleston. They all have hotel rooms in New York for the night, heading that way after their pitstop in Westport.
Josh has a meeting with the Governor of Connecticut in the morning to try and finally lock down his support for Governor Bartlet. Leo’s having Donna go with him, partially because he’s afraid Josh will do something stupid if left alone for too long, and partially because he’s not entirely sure Josh will make it down to South Carolina if left to his own devices. Donna going with him seemed like the easiest solutions to both of those problems.
The Lymans were more than happy to host the Bartlet for America staffers for the night. The campaign doesn’t stop in the northeast much after New Hampshire.
“Josh,” his mother says in that voice that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, spotting the suitcase next to Donna, “you made her carry her own bags in?”
“Usually he makes me carry his too,” Donna half mumbles.
Rachel turns to glare at her son. “Joshua!”
Josh’s eyes get slightly bigger as he freezes. “It’s her job, ma.”
“Is she your pack mule?” Rachel asks pointedly.
Josh sighs. “…no.”
“Then it’s not her job,” she smiles, but Josh doesn’t feel the warmth. She nods towards their bags by the door. “Go take these upstairs.”
“Yes, mother,” Josh mocks, narrowly dodging her hand that reaches out to smack his shoulder. He grabs both suitcases and drops his voice to a near whisper as he passes Donna. “You’re gonna pay for that one.”
“And if I never have to carry your bags again,” Donna smirks, “it’s so worth it.”
Five minutes later, with all of his friends sitting around the table laughing at some story (that’s probably making fun of him) with beers in hand, Josh finds his way back to the kitchen to join them.
Donna’s over by the counter helping his mother chop vegetables for whatever dish she’s making them tonight, and Josh just shakes his head fondly at the way she continues to make herself at home in every corner of his life.
“Where’s dad?” he asks, grabbing himself a beer out of the fridge before sitting down next to Sam.
“He should be home in a little while,” Rachel tells him over her shoulder. “He called to say he was heading home just before you all showed up.”
Josh nods at the answer, twisting off the cap to his drink before CJ lets out a gasp.
“Oh my god,” she points to a framed picture hanging on the wall, “is that you?”
Sam, Toby, and Donna all turn immediately to follow the line of CJ’s pointing to a photo of a little boy about six or seven with a mop of brown curls, laughing and pulling a too-big Mets hat down over his eyes.
“Uh, yeah,” Josh answers as his cheeks flush. “I guess it is.”
“You were so cute,” CJ muses with a smirk, “what happened?”
Sam laughs, and even Donna can’t help the smile threatening to take over her face. Toby just takes another sip of his beer, content to watch Josh embarrass himself in his own home.
They do this a few more times with pictures scattered throughout the house, all of them careful to avoid the few pictures with a little girl in it, hair the same color as Josh’s with a smile twice as wide, and a look in her eyes like she could rule the world one day.
They all know the story. Each of them getting it in bits and pieces at different times, but when you spend as much time together as they do, eighteen hours a day seven days a week, you get really close really fast.
So, they keep the conversation light, asking Rachel her thoughts on the Governor, and trying to (not so subtly) get her to tell them embarrassing stories of Josh as a kid.
They almost get her to tell one truly humiliating story just as Noah Lyman walks through the door.
“Hey!” he calls out, his booming voice echoing through the house with ease.
Josh jumps up immediately – just like a little kid when his dad gets home from work – and makes his way over to greet him with a hug.
“Samuel!” Noah greets his son’s friend after making it to the kitchen. “Long time no see!”
“How are you sir?” Sam gets up to shake his hand, but Noah pulls him in for a hug.
Donna, not for the first time, wonders if the need to hug all of your friends is genetic.
“Good! Good,” Noah grins, “doing a lot better after that win in New Hampshire.”
“Aren’t we all,” Josh smiles, walking back to his seat at the table. “Dad, this is—”
“CJ Cregg,” he guesses with a smile and holds out his hand, “I recognize you from tv.”
“That’s me,” CJ shakes his hand politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”
Noah turns to Toby. “And you must be…”
“Toby Ziegler,” he shakes the older man’s hand.
“The speechwriter,” Noah remembers, the details of Josh’s phone calls starting to fall into place. “I hope Sam isn’t giving you too much trouble with all that,” he winks at Sam.
“Just the right amount,” Toby muses, ignoring Sam’s proud smile behind him.
“Well, I’ll tell ya, you guys are fantastic,” Noah starts. “All of you, really, this campaign is taking off. I watch the political shows every night, and they’re saying—”
He cuts himself off when he catches sight of Donna out of the corner of his eye.
“Hello.”
“Hi,” she smiles.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Donna. Donna Moss.”
“Ah,” his eyes light up, “so you’re Donna Moss.”
CJ snorts and Josh kicks her under the table.
Noah ignores them. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Yeah,” she shakes his outstretched hand, “you too.”
“Did you forget about me over here?” Rachel pipes in. “Just slaving away, trying to put food on the table.”
Noah smiles wide as he makes his way over to his wife. “I could never forget about you.” He kisses her. “Hello dear.”
“Mhm,” she teases before turning to put dinner in the oven. She leans against the counter once the timer is set, and Noah stands beside her, his arm thrown over her shoulders.
“How was your day?”
“It was alright,” she smiles up at him. “Better now that the house is full.”
Noah laughs. “It’s been a while since Josh has brought friends home.”
CJ laughs at something Toby said, and Sam shoots him a look of indignation while Josh tries to defend him. Donna makes her way over to the table, and Josh stands up as soon as she gets there, telling her to take his seat.
She does, after trying to protest it for a minute, but he wins this battle, heading into the other room to get a folding chair from the closet. He sets it up near the corner of the table, right next to her, and pulls it closer to her own chair as he sits down. Donna steals his beer, taking a sip before putting it down between them, and Josh mumbles something that makes her smile.
“Been a while since he brought a girl home too,” Noah muses.
Rachel turns to him with a questioning eyebrow. Noah nods his head in the direction of Josh and Donna. His arm is now resting across the back of her chair while they argue about something, lost in their own little bubble and completely oblivious to whatever the rest of their friends are talking about.
“Oh, honey,” Rachel turns back to her husband with a smile, “they’re not together.”
Noah furrows his brow. “They’re not?
“No,” Rachel laughs, shaking her head as she watches her son throw his head back in exasperation at something Donna said.
It’s almost hypnotizing, watching them go back and forth, and Noah’s caught up in it. “Really?”
“They’re really not togehter,” Rachel gives him a half shrug as she leans into his side. “Not yet anyways.”
“I can’t find it.”
“Josh,” Rachel puts her hand on Josh’s arm, “it’s alright.”
“No,” he shakes his head, “it’s in here, somewhere.”
She sits down on his bed while he continues to rummage around in his backpack. How he keeps anything clean, she’ll never understand. His shirt was so wrinkled this morning it looked worn, and his pants weren’t in much better shape. Luckily his suit jacket was in decent shape, but she took an iron to the others while he picked at his breakfast.
It’s best if she keeps her hands busy, which has never been a problem when Josh is home.
“It has to be in here,” he says desperately, unzipping a pocket he’s checked three times already.
“Josh, honey,” Rachel tries again, “it’s okay. It’s just a tie.”
The thing is—it is just a tie. It’s not special or significant or have any deeper meaning than any of his other ties. He’d probably even argue that it’s one of his lesser used ties, one that he’s really not all that fond of. And maybe that’s because it’s boring, or maybe it’s because it’s plain black, or maybe it’s because the only places he really seems to wear it are funerals.
It’s the morning of his own father’s funeral, and he can’t find his one black tie.
“I know I packed it,” he mumbles to himself, taking everything out of the backpack and laying it on the bed beside it. “I took it out of the suitcase, put it on the hotel bed right next to my shirt…”
His mother starts refolding the t-shirts and sweatpants that fly out of the backpack and land in a pile on the comforter. “We’ll find you a tie,” she starts carefully, “I know your father has—”
“No,” Josh snaps at her, the look in his eyes a warning that’s usually reserved for his enemies. His face softens a second later and he shakes his head as he looks away. “No. I can’t wear one of his ties. Not today, not to—”
His voice catches in his throat, and he takes a deep shaky breath to try to steady himself.
“Okay,” Rachel says softly, dropping the re-folded t-shirts back on the bed as Josh pulls the last few items out in a frenzy.
He stares at the now empty backpack, eyes glassy but refusing to cry anymore tears. Not today. His shoulders slump and his voice cracks and he looks like he’s five minutes from losing it. “I swear I packed it…”
“I know, sweetheart,” Rachel tugs on his arm until he sits on the bed next to her. His head hangs forward and she wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him close. “I know.”
It hasn’t been the easiest week for either of them. Josh flew in late the night they lost Noah, and it was like Rachel was just waiting for him to come home, because the second he walked through the door, the floodgates open and the tears started to fall.
For both of them.
The next day wasn’t much better, the two of them just moping around the house while still trying to accept what had happened. It wasn’t like they hadn’t pictured this before—after going nine rounds with cancer, there were more than a few scares over the last few years—but the reality was so much worse.
They managed to get through the week together, making arrangements for the funeral and calling their last few remaining extended family members with the news. They looked through old boxes of photographs and laughed (and cried) at the best memories of the man they lost, but the house always seemed too empty—too quiet without Noah’s voice echoing through the halls.
And maybe that’s why they can hear the knock on the front door crystal clear from the second-floor bedrooms.
Josh looks over at his mother, who’s now sporting a watery gaze and a tight-lipped smile, but she just shrugs at him. She’s not expecting anybody.
“Why don’t you go answer the door, and I’ll keep looking for the tie,” she tells him, squeezing his hand as he slowly stands up. “Maybe it fell out somewhere around the room.”
Josh opens his mouth to argue, but the fight drains out of him immediately. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “okay.”
He heads downstairs and Rachel starts putting his things back in his bag. She’ll find him a tie, whether they use one of Noah’s or have to stop at the mall before the service—she’ll make sure he gets what he needs.
She hears the front door open as she finishes packing his bag and waits to hear who’s at the door. When she hears nothing but silence, her curiosity gets the better of her and she gets up to peek down the staircase.
In the doorway is a young woman in a funeral ready black dress with hair as light as the sun, standing just outside the threshold with a small duffle bag thrown over her shoulder.
Josh is just staring at her, unmoving, and at a complete loss for words.
She pulls something out of her bag and unfolds a single black tie before holding it out to him.
“You forgot this,” Donna tells him, eyes still searching his. “Thought you might need it.”
Josh stares at the tie for a few seconds before he reaches out for it, but when his fingers meet hers, he grabs her hand and pulls her into the house—and into his arms.
He tucks his chin over her shoulder while her arms wrap around his shoulders, the two of them standing in the entryway with the door wide open like they don’t have a care in the world.
Rachel watches as her son starts to relax instantly in Donna’s arms, his shoulders dropping and a suppressed sob rolling through his chest as he buries his face in her neck. Donna just holds on tight, ready to hold him up for as long as he needs.
When he finally pulls back—and quickly wipes at his eyes—he lifts her suitcase into the front hall before closing the door behind her.
“What are you doing here?” he asks her, no malice in his voice, only a hint of awe.
“Leo was worried you wouldn’t make it to California on your own,” she teases, “something about you being bad at reading road maps.”
“You’re the only person who says that,” he smiles, “and I’m flying to California.”
“Street signs, gate numbers,” she waves him off, “you struggle with them all.”
Josh shakes his head. “So he sent you here to retrieve me?”
“I volunteered to come check up on you,” she says earnestly, “see how you’re doing.”
Josh gives her a weak shrug in response.
“I was worried about you,” she says quietly, then corrects herself. “We both were. Me and Leo. He was supposed to fly out too, but then this thing with the Governor happened and…” she trails off, knowing he’ll understand.
Josh just blinks back at her. “I just—I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I can,” Rachel pipes up from her spot atop the stairs.
Josh turns around and Donna cranes her neck to peer up to the second-floor landing.
“Hi Mrs. Lyman,” she says with a little wave, and Rachel smiles down at her.
“What,” Rachel teases as she starts her way down the stairs, “you didn’t bring a tie for me?”
Donna grins. “Didn’t know you needed one.”
Rachel hugs her quickly before stepping back with a smile. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” Donna tells her, and it sounds like she actually means it. Like she couldn’t even imagine being not being here—not being with her and Josh on today of all days.
It turns out having Donna around is exactly what they needed to get through the next thirty-six hours. Josh tried to be strong for his mother; Donna tried to be strong for him.
The funeral was tough for everybody, but Donna held Josh’s hand through most of it, squeezing it in a show of support during the rougher moments. That night, the three of them sat in the living room, and Josh and Rachel retold all their favorite stories to a fresh set of ears, and they passed around pictures of Noah and his family (and a ridiculous one of kid-Josh that he swears Donna is conspiring to get her own copy of).
And the day after next, when it was finally time to move on, Rachel watches from the front porch as Donna and Josh make their way to the rental car at the end of the driveway. He slides behind the driver’s seat with her sitting shotgun, and Josh takes a long minute to stare at the too-big and too-quiet house he’s leaving behind.
Donna says something to him before he can get too introspective though, and he rolls his eyes with a smirk as he starts to argue back with her. Donna pretends to be offended by whatever he said back as she puts her seatbelt on, and Josh lights up at her fake indignation.
Rachel watches as the rain cloud that’s been hovering above her son starts to fade, with the first few rays of sunshine peeking through like the golden strands of hair falling from Donna’s ponytail.
Yeah, she thinks to herself as Josh waves goodbye as the pull out of the driveway, he’s going to be just fine.
He’s still at the office when his cell phone rings.
“Josh Lyman.”
“There he is,” Rachel’s voice comes through the line.
“Hey mom,” he smiles as he leans back at his brand-new desk.
“Are you still there? In the White House?” she asks eagerly.
“Yeah,” he laughs, “I’m about to leave though. Gotta go home and change before tonight.”
“So many fancy parties to go to,” she teases, “however will you manage?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a way,” he grins.
“Listen,” she starts, “I don’t want to bother you, I was just wondering if you have your new office phone set up yet, so I don’t call your cell phone in the middle of some big important meeting.”
“You can call me anytime, mom,” he starts, “I might not always pick up, but you can call.”
“I know,” she tells him, “but it’ll sit easier with me if I know you’re in a meeting and not lying dead on the sidewalk somewhere when you don’t pick up.”
“Fine,” he sighs. “I have the number here somewhere…” he rustles through the handful of papers on his desk already, looking for the sticky note Donna left him with the number written on it. How he managed to lose it in the single hour since she went home, he’ll never know, but after a few more seconds he’s pretty sure he won’t find it tonight. “You know what, I’ll have Donna call you with it tomorrow.”
“Can’t find it, can you?”
“Nope.”
“Thank god you have Donna,” Rachel muses. “You wouldn’t even be able to find the Oval Office without her.”
Josh is disinclined to tell her how it took him three laps around the west wing to find it today.
“Speaking of Donna,” his mother continues, “I didn’t see her on the tv today.”
“On the tv?” he asks.
“Yes,” she answers, “when the President was being sworn in this morning, I was watching from home. I saw you and Leo on one side of the podium, and CJ, Sam, and Toby on the other, but I didn’t see Donna anywhere.”
“Really?” Josh perks up. “I was on the tv?”
“Josh.”
“I don’t know,” he tells her, “I think she was with the other assistants.”
“You couldn’t get her up on the stage?” his mother chides.
“She was in the front row!”
“On the ground.”
Josh rolls his eyes. “I think she was fine with where she was.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she placates him, not wanting to add more guilt to his naturally overloaded complex. “Is she going to the dances tonight?”
“They’re called Inaugural Balls,” he corrects her, “and yes, she’s going. I sent her home an hour ago so she could start getting ready.”
“Good,” Rachel nods on her end of the phone, “and who is she bringing as a date this evening?”
Josh blinks. “What do you mean?”
She can’t help but tease him. Rachel knows how “protective” (read: jealous) Josh can get when Donna has a date, and sometimes it’s fun to watch his head almost explode as he tries to talk his way around it.
“You know,” she grins, “who is she going with tonight?”
“Me,” he answers a little too quickly. “She’s going with me.”
Rachel hums in amusement. “Right.”
“But it’s not—” he starts. “I’m not her… We’re just going together, not going together, it’s not like—we’re both on the list, so it’s easier if we just… I’m picking her up, yeah, but—”
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“Breathe.”
“Right.”
Rachel smiles to herself. “I’m sure you two will have a wonderful time. I’m sure you all will.”
“Here’s hoping,” he runs his hand through his hair. “Leo’s calling it our ‘victory lap’, but I’m under strict instructions not to gloat to the republicans.”
“Well,” Rachel muses, “not to gloat too much.”
Josh laughs. “Exactly.”
She glances at the clock on the wall. “Okay, Mr. Deputy Chief of Staff, I don’t want to hold you up.”
Josh’s chest swells with pride at his new title. “You’re not.”
“I am,” she tells him, “and Donna will kill you if you’re late to get her, so you better get home and get ready.”
“Okay, ma,” he laughs.
“Take lots of pictures!”
“I’ll send you all the good ones,” he smiles, writing himself a note to do so—and thinking better of it, to leave the note on Donna’s desk.
“Have fun, honey,” she tells him, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he leans forward in his chair, ready to go home, “bye, mom.”