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When she was 8 years old, Donna burned her finger on the stove while her mother was cooking dinner. Now, she doesn’t remember why she was in the kitchen, why she was close enough to let her fingers brush against the burner, but she does remember how the pain shocked her, yanking her finger away and staring at the mark on her hand, but she didn’t cry or call for help. Instead, she had pretended not to notice, like nothing had ever happened, until her mom caught a glimpse of it later and asked her what happened.
After she burnt her finger, hiding when she was seriously injured became a pattern in her life, though she’s never been quite sure why. Maybe it’s because she has two older brothers and she never wanted to be weaker than them. When she was younger she was always desperately attempting to be included with her brothers, refusing to accept the fact that her being younger made her less capable. Maybe it was the midwest culture of being self-sufficient, and maybe it was the way she was raised to be polite, to not inconvenience people, and somewhere in her brain that had gotten twisted into that asking for help was bad. Maybe it was the independence that ran through her, the desire to be able to make it on her own, to prove to everyone that she could.
Whatever it was, it was the reason why she didn’t ask for help when she burnt her finger or twisted her wrist in middle school or broke her arm in tenth grade, or when she was in an accident, when she only called her then boyfriend for a ride, not telling him how much it hurt or how scared she was.
The one consistency in her life was that: Donnatella Moss could take care of herself.
And then Gaza and the explosion happened.
Josh had come running across the world for her, not stopping for anything, like they’d promised, and while she was in the hospital in Germany he had been there, despite the Irish photographer making an appearance. He stayed and held her hand and told her it, she , was going to be okay. For once, she let someone know how scared she was and Josh was there, putting aside his own fear to comfort her and she thought maybe, maybe things would be different.
They weren’t.
Instead, Josh pulled away and she was left feeling like she was drowning in the aftermath of Gaza. She could feel herself falling apart and knew something had to give, something had to change. Kate Harper had even noticed and tried to reach out, offered to help, but Donna just couldn’t accept it so instead she had smiled and thanked her and continued to try and deal with it on her own.
Something had to give, and that had been what led to her quitting, knowing the weight of what was happening but she was drowning and this was the only way she could see to escape. And while Josh hadn’t seen it while she was still there, he certainly hadn’t seen it after, when they’d been on separate campaigns and only saw each other while passing in hallways and during awkward elevator rides.
There had been countless nights during the timet they weren’t speaking when she had stared at her phone after a bad nightmare, her thumb hovering over her speed dial that she could never seem to remove him from, but not sure what she’d even say. She never learned how to ask for help, and some part of her felt overwhelmed with guilt for needing it. Her life had been spared, unlike everyone else’s, and that should be enough, she could make it through the rest herself.
So, she’d never told him about everything, focusing on the campaign once Lou had hired her. Josh had been furious with her in that hotel room and she had been furious right back, but at least they were talking again, and then slowly, rebuilding themselves. And then there was navigating their relationship, when he’d finally kissed her, and then election night and Leo’s death and everything in their lives changing in a rush.
Donna hadn’t realized how much he’d been falling apart, not until they were in their beautiful hotel room in Hawaii and had finally talked through it all. Seeing how close Josh had been to coming undone, her own problems seemed like a distant thought, and she just wanted to forget them and focus on their future. By that time, her nightmares had begun to fade and became less frequent, less vivid. Sometimes, she’d still wake up with an unexplainable feeling of panic, but not quite a nightmare, not a flashback in the same way. Those nights she was always able to get back to sleep just by concentrating on Josh’s breathing and matching hers with his, while he had luckily remained fast asleep next to her.
So, it’s a shock when a couple months into their relationship she bolts up gasping, everything blurry as she opens her eyes and tries to adjust to the darkness. She can feel her heart pounding against her chest, the throbbing pain in her leg, the rush of blood in her ears, and the burning in her lungs as she gasps for air, trying to remember the exercises she taught herself to help calm herself down. It takes a few minutes but her breathing slows, her brain registers that there’s no burning car, she’s no longer in the Middle East but in her and Josh’s bedroom in DC. Josh, who she’s now realizing, is right beside her, looking at her with wide-eyed concern.
“Can you get me a glass of water?” is the first thing out of her mouth, surprising both herself and Josh, who blinks at her, but nods his head and heads towards the kitchen. She takes the moment alone to go into their bathroom and splash water on her face, the feeling of the cool bathroom tiles beneath her feet helping to ground her.
“Donna?” she hears Josh call for her from the bedroom so she turns off the tap, lightly drying her face, and finds him back in the bedroom, holding a glass of water for her. He’s turned on the lamp on his bedside table so the room is illuminated in a soft glow and she can see the look of concern on his face, that look he gets in his eyes when she’s hurt.
“Thanks,” she says, taking the glass from him and sipping some of the water before placing the glass down on her nightstand. “Sorry I woke you up.” he cocks his head and frowns a little at her, but she interrupts before he can protest her apology. “You can go back to sleep now, I’ll come back to bed in a minute.”
Josh ignores her, as she expected, and instead stands just in front of her, his face asking if she’s okay with him touching her. As soon as she nods her head he tugs her towards him, winding his arms around her. The familiar feeling of being wrapped up in Josh causes her body to naturally relax into him and she presses her face into his chest, ignoring the prickling feeling behind her eyes.
After several beats, Josh softly asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not right now,” Donna responds, muffled by Josh’s chest.
She feels him press a kiss to the crown of her head, standing for a moment longer, before he’s moving them towards the bed. Easily she follows him, but furrows her brow as he gets onto the bed and tugs on her arm to pull her onto him. As he maneuvers them so that she’s lying with her head against his chest so that she can hear his heartbeat, steady and comforting, she realizes what he’s doing.
Her mind flashes back to years ago when their roles were reversed. At some point while staying with Josh that summer she had remembered learning that listening to someone else’s heartbeat can help with anxiety as a breathing technique. So, one night after Josh had awoken from a particularly bad nightmare, she had squeezed into his hospital bed beside him and pulled his head onto her chest, wearing only the thin tank top she had slept in to deal with the DC heat. If it had been in different circumstances, he would have noticed the low cut of her tank top and the absence of a bra underneath, how inappropriate it was, but it had been just one moment in a collection of broken boundaries that summer. Slowly his breath had evened out as he listened to the steady beat of her heart as she’d rubbed his back and stroked his hair, and they both managed to get a couple more hours of sleep. It became a routine while she stayed with him, part of the unspoken events while she took care of him, and her heart aches at how he’s trying to help her the same way now.
As she closes her eyes and rests against his chest, she feels his hand run through her hair. She focuses on his heart beat, rhythmic and strong, and tries to match her breathing to it. Josh stays quiet as they lie there, and normally a quiet Josh would worry her, but she knows he’s trying to take care of her. Donna knows he won’t sleep again until she does; he’s an insomniac at the best of times, but especially when he’s anxious and seeing her upset and in pain is bound to trigger his anxiety.
Maybe she should say something, try to tell him about what’s been happening in her head, what the nightmares are about, because he’ll understand all too well. She wishes he wouldn’t understand but he’s one of the only people who would — she remembers the nights where he would wake up screaming and the haunted look on his face afterwards — but there’s just something in her brain that won’t let her get the words out.
They’ve talked about Gaza, but more about the fallout, the aftermath. During the honest conversations in Hawaii full of tears and admissions, she’d told him about how after Gaza she felt like she needed to do more, that she couldn’t waste the second chance she’d gotten, but she hadn’t told him about all the time she’d spent wondering why she had lived, out of everyone, why her, the least important person there. They had finally talked about her leaving, both apologizing, which had needed to happen, but she hadn’t mentioned the nightmares that haunted her, how she’s no therapist but after learning for Josh, she’s pretty sure she’d be diagnosed with PTSD. Somehow it feels different since it’s her , so she never brought it up with him, and she can tell Josh doesn’t like to talk about Gaza, that he gets that pale look on his face still, so she hadn’t wanted to bring it up, just wanted to be happy that they had made it.
Instead, she focuses on evening out her breaths, on grounding herself. It’s easier to do with Josh holding her than when she was in an uncomfortable, lonely hotel bed in an unfamiliar city, never quite able to fall back into a restful sleep again.
Eventually, they both fall back to sleep for a few more hours before their alarm wakes them. Donna groans when it goes off, curling into Josh as he reaches onto his nightstand, blindly trying to hit the snooze button. They lay together for a few moments as they wake up, both groggy from their lack of sleep before Donna finally accepts that they need to get up and go to work.
“I’m gonna go start the coffee,” she tells him, pressing a good morning kiss quickly to his lips, “go shower.”
He blinks at her for a few seconds, and she can tell he’s still worrying about her nightmare, which she hates. Josh lives with so much anxiety as it is, and she knows that her well being is always at the front of his mind and she hates when she makes it worse, even if it isn’t on purpose. The best thing she can do for him is show him that she’s fine, that she’s safe, that everything is okay and normal.
So, she steals another kiss from him before telling him to go so that they’re not late, and says a silent prayer to the universe that today is a quiet day.
Of course, it is not a quiet day.
From the start of the day everything is in chaos. Josh gets pulled away to the Situation Room early on, so she doesn’t hear from him for most of the day. It’s unclear if it makes things easier without his check ins, since she can simply pretend that everything is fine. But as pathetic and codependent as it sounds, she misses him sending her texts and showing up at her office with coffee like he would have if he wasn’t trying to prevent whatever classified disaster from happening.
Donna’s day only gets worse the longer it goes on. She’s exhausted and on edge and everything that can go wrong seems to be. By the end of the day in her last meeting with Helen, she’s tired and hungry and cranky, snapping at her assistant over nothing who looks at her with wide eyes, because Donna has never snapped, not once, and especially not in front of the First Lady. Immediately, Donna feels terrible, and tells her she can go home early, that she can finish things up on her own.
Helen eyes her carefully, gently asking, “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” Donna apologizes, bowing her head and cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “It's just been one of those days. Let’s finish up here so we can head home.”
Helen nods, and Donna’s not quite sure she fully believes her, but Helen doesn’t push the topic. They finalize their decisions about what events she’s going to be attending in the next couple months and then Helen tells her to go home and take a bubble bath and have a glass of wine, that everything else can wait for tomorrow.
As she’s packing up her things she gets a text from Josh that he’s going to be stuck a little longer and that he’ll see her at home. Donna sighs, debates staying at the office to finish a few things to wait for him, but she still feels like she’s on the edge, so she won’t get much done by hanging around the East Wing. Instead, she decides a glass of wine, a book, and their bathtub will help her relax. If she doesn’t dwell on things, this buzzing feeling beneath her skin will pass, just like it always does.
When she gets in the door, she heads straight to their bedroom to kick off her heels to relieve the throbbing in her leg, then strips off her tights, pencil skirt, and blouse to put on Josh’s burgundy Harvard sweatshirt that she’d stolen years before and her favourite pair of black leggings. She pads into the living room, turning on the television, before heading back into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of the pinot grigio Josh had bought her. It’s not until she places her wine glass on a coaster on the coffee table and sits on the couch that she notices what’s on the screen.
CNN is on, which isn’t surprising that it’s the last channel that they were watching, but splayed across the screen are images of an explosion, somewhere in the Middle East. Donna blinks at the screen and she hears the commentators talking, but she can’t make out the words, everything becoming static in her ears. As her breathing becomes more and more erratic, she slowly sinks to the floor in front of the couch, curling her knees towards her.
Which is where Josh finds her moments later after he comes through the door, with his greeting of “Donnatella, I’m home!” unanswered. He’d been planning on staying at the office longer, but Sam had offered to finish a few things for him, reading the nervous energy that he’d been giving off all day. Something about Donna’s behaviour had been eating at him all day, not quite able to shake her nightmare from the night before and her reluctancy to talk about it. So, unlike Josh from a few months before, he had gladly taken Sam up on his offer and headed home early, hoping to have a quiet evening with his girlfriend.
But now she’s sitting on their living room floor, having a panic attack, and he feels frozen for a moment. He’s seen Donna in so many different ways: heartbroken, overjoyed, giddy, and furious to name a few. Yet he’s never seen her like this, a situation all too familiar to him. His eyes flicker over to the screen and he sees the footage, putting it all together, and moves to grab the remote from where Donna had left it on the coffee table and quickly switches it off. Next, he slides to the floor next to her, not quite touching her.
“It’s okay sweetheart,” he says softly and her eyes flicker towards him, as if registering for the first time that he’s there. “Breathe with me.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, and he can tell she’s trying her best to control her breathing. “I can’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“Can I touch you?” he asks softly and waits for the slight nod of her head before reaching for her hand, “When I squeeze your hand, can you breathe in for me?”
Donna nods again and slowly they begin a pattern of him squeezing her hand as they work together to slow her breathing. He softly begins counting for her, four seconds in and four seconds out, as she had for him all those years ago.
As her breathing returns to normal, she shifts her body closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. They sit in silence for a while, Josh giving her time to gather her thoughts before softly asking, “Do you have anything I should get you?”
It takes a second for her brain to register that he’s asking her if she takes anything for her panic attacks and she shakes her head.
“Oh,” Josh frowns, “has… has this not happened before?”
She hesitates for a second, the instinctual urge to insist she’s fine kicking in, but Josh knows her better than anyone, especially now, and she wants to be able to share this part with him, to trust him with the most vulnerable parts of herself.
“It has,” she says slowly, carefully, “but I never… I just dealt with them.”
“You mean after?” he whispers, his hand still grasping hers, now drawing patterns with his thumb.
“Yeah,” she responds and there’s a pause again as they sit side by side there on the floor of their living room.
“You never told me,” he says hoarsely, “I didn’t notice. I should have noticed.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m not good at asking for help,” she replies, looking down at the floor, “and… I don’t know, I was the one who survived. I felt like I shouldn’t be the one falling apart when at least I got to live.”
“Donna-”
But now that she’s talking about it, it’s like she has to get it all out now, or she’s never going to be able to and it’s going to keep eating at her. “I feel like my life had to mean something, since I survived. I mean, I was the least important person in that SUV, but I got to live? I have to make something of that, I shouldn’t be falling apart. So I learned how to deal with it myself, that’s what I’ve always done. Today was just because of last night and then the news caught me off guard…”
“You never saw anyone for it?”
“No, I mean my doctors told me what to look for, and I already knew,” from you is what she doesn’t say, but they both know it’s what she means, “and once I was on the campaign I was traveling too much to be consistently talking to anyone. This is the most I’ve ever said.”
Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her head that’s still resting on his shoulder, “I’m sorry,” he says into the top of her hair, “I should have realized what was going on, I could have helped you. I mean, I’m the reason you were there in the first place.”
“I don’t blame you Josh,” Donna states firmly. Gaza was a terrible mess but never once had she considered blaming Josh, “Not for any of it. It never crossed my mind. All I ever was is thankful you were there.”
“I think I blame myself, more than I realized,” he tells her, leaning his cheek on her head. “I think it’s why I ignored you wanting more, because if I kept you close to me I could keep you safe. Or at least that’s what my therapist said.”
“You talked to your therapist about it?”
“Yeah, when we got back from Hawaii.” After his borderline breakdown that had led to their forced vacation, he’d started seeing his therapist again on a semi-regular basis, as part of his efforts to stay healthy for her, for their future together. “And you don’t have to if you really don’t want to, but will you think about talking to someone?”
“I’m talking to you,” she jokes and feels him chuckle against her.
“And you always can. But talking to a professional, it’s awkward as hell at first, but it does help.”
“Okay,” she agrees, letting out a shuddery breath and snuggling into his shoulder, “I’ll try.”
“Thank you,” Josh says, raising himself off the floor. “I’m thinking of dinner on the couch while we watch a movie?”
Josh warms them both up a plate of leftovers and puts on Donna’s well worn DVD copy of When Harry Met Sally, and her heart flutters at how well he knows her. She’s exhausted though, both from the lack of sleep and the panic attack, so she falls asleep on Josh’s chest shortly into the film. When she wakes up again, Josh is trying to pick her up off the couch.
“You’re going to throw out your back,” she murmurs drowsily, batting his arms away and standing, stretching her arms above her head.
They make their way to their bedroom, going about their nightly bedtime routine and crawling into bed. On a normal night like this, where they’re both home early, she’d be inclined to take proper advantage of it, but she knows they’re both too emotionally and physically exhausted for anything to happen tonight. Settling themselves under the covers, Josh spoons her and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her against him and she happily leans back into him as he presses soft kisses into her neck. There’s a comfortable silence between them and she’s almost on her way to being back to sleep, when Josh says something quietly behind her.
“Earlier you said something about being the least important person in that explosion. I know the survivor's guilt, it can make you ask those questions,” her heart aches at that, thinking of house fires and a small Josh, watching his world crumble in front of him. Donna places her hand over top of his and squeezes as he continues, “but your job didn’t make your life any less important. I don’t know why only you survived, but it was my miracle. You’re my miracle.”
Donna sniffles and Josh thinks for a second he’s said something wrong, he’s stuck his foot in his mouth once again but she turns over in his arms so she can bury her face into his neck and wrap her arms around him.
“That was incredibly cheesy,” she tells him, but he can feel her smile against his skin.
“Yeah, that’s the sappiest thing I’ve ever said.”
“You’ve gone soft in your old age.”
“Hey!” he protests, pinching her hip and she laughs, squirming, “I can’t believe I’ve gotten so soft.”
Donna tilts her head up to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I like you being soft for me.”
“I’ve always been soft for you,” he nuzzles his face into her skin, pressing light kisses against her freckles, “Just don’t tell anyone else, it’ll ruin my reputation.”
“Our little secret,” she promises, “I love you. And to be equally as cheesy, you’re my miracle too.”
He kisses her, first on her lips and then all over her face and tastes the tears on her cheeks, “I love you baby. Let’s get some rest.”
They settle themselves so that Donna’s got her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat once again. Her fingers trace the scar on his chest, reminded that he really is her miracle as well. In that moment, she vows to herself that she’s going to follow through on her promise to talk to someone, because she thinks that maybe she deserves to have someone help her, that she doesn’t have to do it all on her own, not now that she has Josh. Donna wants to learn how to accept help, for them, for their future. Maybe, this is what not wasting her life, their miracle, meant.