Chapter Text
Josh tosses his backpack aside and takes a seat in his chair. The White House is already buzzing with activity on the first day after the holiday break, despite it being so early in the morning. He takes a deep breath, grateful that there’s no Christmas music playing to make his return to work more difficult.
He’s had precisely one therapy session since Stanley referred him to someone local. His therapist, Mary, is an eccentric but kind woman who wears chunky bracelets that clink a little when she gesticulates. Stanley had done an excellent job with the matching process, Josh will give him that. Mary’s an older woman, about his mother’s age, with a take-no-shit attitude, unflappable and immune to Josh’s efforts to duck, bob, and weave around any line of questioning. I don’t have a magic wand, Josh, she’d said. You have to do the work. I’ll be there to help you as you do, but you’re going to have to put in the effort.
Despite the lack of an instant fix for Josh’s PTSD, he does feel a little more hopeful, like there isn’t a constant cloud of doom hanging over him, heavy with rain and ready to downpour at any given time. It’s nice, feeling a little like his old self again, and he imagines with a little time and a lot of therapy, he could get even closer.
That is, until Senior Staff that morning.
“The CDC has published some information on their website about what they’re calling the novel coronavirus,” Leo says, handing a stack of papers to CJ, indicating that she’s to take one and pass them on. “Back in December, the WHO was informed about a cluster of cases of a pneumonia-like illness in the Wuhan province of China. They know the genetic sequence of the virus, which is promising, but the CDC has put together a response plan for testing and case management.”
Josh accepts the paper and scans the information on it, which seems to be a bulleted summary of the information presented by the CDC. “Have there been any cases here?” he asks.
“Not that we’re aware of,” Leo answers. “But it’s something to keep an eye on. The President’s planning to meet with the head of the CDC later this week to determine what, if anything, we can do on our end.”
Josh glances at CJ, perched on the arm of Leo’s couch. This is the sort of thing that he and CJ discussed a little while back, the idea of a global pandemic. At least, it feels ominous in the same way. That could be his anxiety talking, given the fact that his brain is on high alert at the moment, but the churning in his stomach gets stronger as Leo continues to explain the situation. Josh takes a deep breath, finally summoning the courage to ask the question that’s heaviest on his mind. “Should we be concerned?”
“We’re not writing it off, but we’re not going to send everyone into a panic, either,” Leo explains. “We’ll know more at the end of the week.”
It’s not a satisfying answer.
“I’m not saying you’re crazy, Josh,” Donna reassures him, dragging her fork through her chicken alfredo, feet propped up on his desk. “I’m just saying that Leo and the President have their finger on the pulse of whatever it is.”
“And I’m just saying that a good portion of our response to whatever happens depends on if Congress can pull their heads out of their asses for long enough to look at what’s happening in the world, consider someone other than themselves, and vote for the good of their constituents instead of the people lining their pockets,” Josh says, running his hand through his hair.
Donna frowns. “You’re not eating your burger,” she says.
Josh shrugs. “I… kind of lost my appetite.”
“I’m letting you eat a burger,” Donna says. “Burnt to a crisp, extra fries. I even got you one of those Oreo shakes.”
“Donna –”
Donna places her container of pasta on the edge of his desk, walking around to stand near Josh’s chair. “Look at me,” she says, placing her hands on either one of his cheeks. They’re soft, impossibly so, and the contrast of the chill of her fingertips against his skin helps jolt him out of his spiral. His heart clenches and his stomach flip flops as his gaze floats toward her lips for the smallest fraction of a second, his brain catching up with what’s happening. He darts his eyes back to hers, wide with concern.
She continues when she’s confident she has his attention. “Do you trust Leo and the President?”
“Yes,” Josh answers without hesitation.
“Do you trust that they’re going to do all they can to keep the citizens of this country safe?”
“Yes,” Josh replies again.
Donna’s thumbs sweep briefly across his cheekbones as she gives him a soft smile. “Then that’s what you’ll do until we learn more about all of this. Put your trust in the people who are leading us. I’m putting my trust in you as one of those leaders. You’re going to know anything there is to know before almost anyone else in the country or even the world. Let Leo and the President lead you, so you can lead us.”
There’s a confidence to her words, gentle but firm, and they feel comforting, almost like a soft blanket. Josh can’t help but notice that her faith in him buoys his spirits a little. It makes him want to be worthy of it. He lets out an exhale, then nods. “Okay.”
Donna drops her hands and returns to her spot on the other side of the desk, swiping a few fries on her way by. “Now eat your burger. It’s the last one you’ll get for a little while.”
Josh does as he’s told.
For a few weeks, Donna’s words are on loop in Josh’s head like a mantra. He airs out his worries with his therapist, focuses on other important pieces of legislation making their way through the House, and spends his first night at the Hawk and Dove with the rest of the Senior Staff since Donna (and the medical professionals she’d consulted with, he supposes) allowed him to rejoin society. It’s nice, being around his friends again, living his life the way he did before it was nearly taken from him by a bullet to the chest.
He can feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck when Leo tells them in Senior Staff the next morning that the United States has had its first confirmed case of the novel coronavirus.
“A guy in Washington state got back from Wuhan and developed symptoms,” Leo says. “There’s talk of them shutting things down in China to prevent the spread.”
“So humans can spread it?” Toby confirms.
“That’s what the WHO is saying. They’re meeting again in ten days to discuss whether they want to declare the novel coronavirus an International Public Health Concern,” Leo replies. “CJ, if you get questions on this in your briefing today, I want you to reiterate that the President is listening to experts globally and is closely monitoring the situation.”
This is what Josh feared with the article about the potential spread of smallpox, except this is a disease that even the experts know nothing about. He moves to press his back to Leo’s door, taking a few deep breaths as he wills himself to focus on the meeting happening in front of him.
“They’re gonna want to know what the White House is doing about it,” CJ says.
“We’re consulting with experts in the field and seeking guidance on next steps to ensure the safety and well-being of the citizens of the United States,” Sam offers. There’s a beat of silence as they all turn toward Sam. “Or… you know, what Leo said.”
CJ smiles. “You want to do the briefing for me, Samuel?”
Sam shakes his head, a deer-in-headlights look on his face. “No thanks.”
Everything falls apart in March.
It happens in the blink of an eye, or at least that’s what it feels like. The administration creates a task force, the previously unnamed virus gets a name, and then the World Health Organization declares COVID-19 a pandemic.
The White House sends everyone home. First, it’s the interns, who scatter across the country to back to their homes as campuses shut down. Then, it’s the part-time staff, followed by any full-time staff below a certain security clearance. This means almost everyone other than Senior Staff, and despite Josh’s tendency to humor her by referring to Donna as the Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff, it isn’t an official job title and doesn’t come with any benefits.
So Donna has to go, too.
Donna paces Josh’s office, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. “Josh, this is… this isn’t good.”
She glances over at him, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. His elbows are on his desk, his hands intertwined, and he’s leaning forward to rest his chin against them as he watches her. When things feel hopeless, when her life feels like it’s spinning out of control, he’s the one who helps her feel steady, secure. She’s had the chance to return the favor lately, as heartbreaking as that is, but now she wishes he could pull her into his arms, bury his face in her neck, and hold her as she cried. He’s done it a few times before, and as silly as she feels sobbing into his shoulder, she always feels better afterward. Josh reassures her he’s happy to help, that it’s what friends do for each other.
The label doesn’t feel appropriate, somehow. It’s like wearing a shirt with an itchy tag – it’s not that doesn’t fit, it’s just not the ideal. It doesn’t encompass everything he is to her, doesn’t even come close. Not when she nearly lost him. Not when she’s held him in her arms as she tried to comfort him after a nightmare, or when she calls his mom once a week just to talk.
“Donna, please sit,” he says, his voice gentle but steady.
She sighs, plopping herself in the chair across from him and chewing thoughtfully on a hangnail as she avoids eye contact with him. When she meets his gaze, she can see the concern in his eyes. “I really can’t work from home.”
“Of course you can,” Josh smiles. “You’re Donnatella Moss. You’re a force of nature. You could work on Mars if you had to.”
She feels a swell of pride inside her, but it’s quickly tamped down when she starts to think about the logistics of the situation. “Josh, Cassie’s a nurse. I don’t… I don’t think I can stay in my apartment safely.”
Josh rounds his desk and kneels down in front of Donna, brushing back a strand of hair and tucking it behind her ear. “Hey,” he says softly, doing his best to sound reassuring. “We’ll figure out something for you.”
“I’m –” she sniffles. Josh knocks a pencil cup off his desk reaching for a box of tissues to hand her, and this earns him a soft huff of laughter from Donna. She feels bad, just a little, for laughing at him, but the move is so Josh Lyman it almost hurts. Donna takes a tissue from the tissue box, then dabs at her eyes. “I can’t afford another place, not on my own. And my credit… and finding a new roommate…” Donna trails off. She’s running out of options. She’s considered asking one of the other assistants if she can stay with them – Cathy and her husband don’t have a spare room, Bonnie takes care of her elderly grandmother, and Ginger’s roommate won’t entertain the idea. Margaret offered, but Donna’s share of the rent would be more than what she currently pays.
“Josh, I think I may have to go back to Wisconsin,” Donna blurts out.
Josh processes her words, suddenly looking like he’s been slapped across the face. The change in his expression makes her feel as though someone has grabbed her heart and torn it directly out of her chest. “Donna, you don’t… you’re not moving back to Wisconsin.”
“I don’t have other options, Josh!”
“Sure you do,” he insists, his tone slightly frantic. “You… you can just stay in your bedroom when you’re at your place. Cassie can stay in hers.”
“Okay, so how do you expect us to eat? Take a shower? Josh, you’ve been to our apartment. It’s tiny. We can’t really avoid each other.” Donna thinks back to Josh’s earlier explanation of the office hours, when he told her that they were sending her home. She thinks about how staff may ask some of the senior assistants to come in and help during those times so that they could collaborate on projects that may require materials that couldn’t leave the White House. Social distancing measures would be in place, of course, but knowing she’s constantly exposed to the virus and in turn, exposing Josh?
She doesn’t think she could live with herself if she was the reason he got sick.
“Then why don’t you move in with me?” Josh asks. For a fraction of a second, after the words tumble almost clumsily out of his mouth, it looks as though he’s surprised himself with what he’s just suggested. But he recovers quickly, continuing with a determined expression. “Seriously, Donna. Move in with me.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Donna says.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“Josh.”
“Donna. Seriously! We’ve done it before. You know I have to limit my exposure, so I’m not putting you at risk. I’m not some random roommate you have to get to know, or deal with their weird habits, or worry about them stealing your food.” Josh pauses for a moment, shaking his head. “Okay, so maybe I do have weird habits, and I might steal your food. But I promise, Donna, I – I’ll do the best I can not to... you know, get on your nerves too much.”
He’s so earnest, so sincere, that it makes him nearly impossible to resist. He does have a point; they were basically roommates over the summer while she helped Josh recover. There were rare nights she spent at her own apartment, but most of them were spent with Josh.
And the thought hits Donna all at once that this is going to be harder on Josh than he realizes. After spending the majority of his time inside for three months, he’s about to have to do it again, now for an undetermined amount of time. This time, though, the isolation could be worse for his mental health. With no one to notice the warning signs, no one to intervene if his mental health declined… Donna can’t even think about it without feeling a little nauseated.
She knows her car wouldn’t make it back to Wisconsin. Her car can barely make it to the White House most days, which is the reason she takes the Metro more often than not. And she doesn’t want to leave – she loves her job, and her friends, and… well, she loves Josh, which is both the biggest reason to say yes to his offer, and the biggest reason to decline.
Or, at least, one of the biggest, anyway.
“We can’t just… you know the last time it was an issue,” Donna says, tugging at a string on the sleeve of her sweater, bringing up what is arguably the most important factor to consider.
CJ had spent a lot of briefings defending the amount of time Donna spent at Josh’s apartment to the press during his recovery. At first, there was discussion about it on social media, which was easy to dismiss as rumors and speculation that detracted from the real issue at hand. Some of CJ’s earliest briefing transitions into the issue of gun violence were simply masterful.
And then Danny Concannon saw Donna leaving Josh’s place early one morning toward the end of his recovery period.
“You’ve gotta know how this looks,” he’d said to Donna and CJ, leaning on the door of CJ’s office, arms folded across his chest.
“It looks like Donna helping Josh, and nothing more, at least to the non-perverts,” CJ had asserted, mirroring his pose, leaning back in her chair with narrowed eyes. Donna wasn’t sure if CJ was angry with Danny for something, or she was protecting her and Josh, or both.
CJ had gotten Danny to stop sniffing around, but she’d had a talk with Donna the second her office door shut after Danny’s departure. “I know what you two have isn’t in any way improper,” she’d said, “but the rest of the world thinks like the rest of the world thinks. Please, please just be careful.”
And so Donna had moved out a few days early, feeling strangely empty as she gathered her things for the last time. They couldn’t get away with a cohabiting situation like that again, especially not if they were officially living together this time. With nothing but time on their hands, people would be even more ruthless. It could put their careers in jeopardy, not to mention the administration.
Josh considers her point for a moment. “Well,” he says, a slightly pained expression on his face, “if I have to choose between you going to Wisconsin or you not working for me anymore, the answer is pretty obvious, isn’t it? I’m sure you can slide into another spot fairly easily. Toby’s been grumbling for years about how he should have swooped in while he had the chance.”
Donna can’t help but smile at that. “Really?” she asks.
“I guarantee you he’ll have it arranged before the five o’clock deadline,” Josh says. “Donna, we really can make this work. I’m not letting you go back to Wisconsin, that’s – that’s even worse. What are you going to do, move back in with your parents? Dr. Freeride?” His voice pitches higher at the end of the last question.
“No, I’m not moving in with Dr. Freeride,” Donna laughs. She’s not quite sure if he’s asking that question out of some misplaced protectiveness, like how he gets when she goes on dates, or out of genuine concern.
“I’m not kidding around, Donna. You’re too valuable to – to this administration to go back to Wisconsin. You’re not imposing, it’s not too much. Move in with me.”
There’s a beat of silence as she thinks about his offer. It’s mostly for show, because the longer she considers it, the better it sounds. The mental pros and cons list she’s created in her head is nearly all pros, save for a few potentially gross blog posts about Josh and Donna, which isn’t exactly new territory for them anyway. “Okay,” she finally says. “I’ll move in with you.”
His hand is resting gently on her knee, and she’s not sure he’s even aware he’s doing it, but he squeezes it gently. The touch sends sparks up her spine, and this combined with the butterflies in her stomach is already enough to overwhelm her. But his smile, the look of relief on his face when she agrees to his plan, is downright dizzying.
Josh leans in and kisses her on the cheek. “Good. Okay. Now let’s go talk to Toby.”
Toby is all too eager to take Donna under his wing, and they spend the rest of the afternoon packing up anything that they’d need to take home that’s able to go home with them. When five o’clock rolls around, Josh approaches Donna’s desk. He has his backpack slung over one shoulder and a stack of files held against his side under his left arm. His right hand finds its designated place at the small of her back as he leans in toward her. “Let’s go home.”
He says it like it’s really their home, and she supposes it is now. But he says it like he’s been saying it for years, like it’s been theirs all along. Like all of the stolen glances and gentle touches meant something more this whole time than what either of them was willing to admit.
She wonders for a brief moment if maybe they have.