(no subject)
Title: Weakness Is No Stranger
Author: Christine
Pair: Josh/Donna
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Holy Night
Disclaimer: Not mine. Aaron's, John's, etc.
Notes: Bex really is one of the best. Even if she critiqued my html tag placements. ;)
(MWAH! You know I love you. Thank you!)
*****
"Hey, it's me. Leo went home a few minutes ago. We didn't quite manage peace in the Middle East, but we tried damned hard and we got a truce of sorts and the start of a roof raising team and… It's really quiet here. And I know you're not picking up for a reason. I know you're having a romantic holiday in a quaint little inn far away from work and Washington and me, but…" He paused, not quite sure what else to say. "I didn't get to give you your gift. And it's sitting here on my desk and I was thinking about you and…"
He almost said it -- that he missed her, that he was mad at her for leaving without saying goodbye, that it was too quiet and it was Christmas and it was their holiday but since she'd left he had no one to celebrate with and he really wished she were here with him instead of there with Jack. But he didn't say any of it. Instead, he took a deep breath and simply added, "Merry Christmas, Donna. I'll see you in a few days."
He hung up before he lost his resolve and blurted out all kinds of things he knew he shouldn't say, knew he couldn't say.
Grabbing his bag from under his desk, he hefted it over his shoulder and headed out the door, stopping in the lobby when he noticed the tree and all the other Christmas decorations.
Donna loved this time of year, loved the glitter and the glamour and the shine, loved the joyful pomp of the Marine bands and the sweet innocence of the children's choirs. She always made sure that he appreciated them, too, even when he was being his most stubborn. Especially then. She never let him forget that Christmas wasn't just about baby Jesus or modern commercialism, but about friends and love and sharing, about being with those you hold most dear and letting them know how much they meant.
She'd made sure he remembered those things this year, too, but he didn't think he'd fully appreciated them until now.
The tree really was beautiful, he noted, as he looked up at the huge evergreen bursting with color. The small lights hidden amongst the branches caught each shiny glass ornament in just the right way to make the entire tree seem as if it were aglow. And if that weren't enough, there were great swags of holly and ribbon draped over every doorway and arch in the room, making it seem as if you were stepping into a magical wonderland each time you crossed the threshold.
Donna always pointed that out, too, in those same exact words. It was both frustrating and heartening that he remembered them now, when she was enjoying a magical wonderland with someone else.
Not that he blamed her, he thought, as he wound his scarf tight around his neck and shuffled out into the still-falling snow. She'd taken care of him for far too many Christmases, had let his needs dictate hers for far too long. It was time that she enjoyed the holidays instead of taking care of him.
Maybe he should call and leave another message, let her know that he hadn't - what? Wanted to make her feel guilty for leaving him alone, for not saying goodbye, for not even sparing a thought for him before hopping on that news helicopter? He had wanted to make her feel that way, to some extent at least. And maybe he hadn't said any of those things in his message earlier, but she knew him. She knew how he thought and how he behaved and she'd know that's what he'd meant. Wasn't it better just to let it go, to let her enjoy the rest of her weekend, without any additional interference from him?
It would be, he knew, but he couldn't seem to help himself as he walked the final few blocks to his apartment. He found himself fishing his phone from his pocket and awkwardly dialing it with a gloved finger.
He never expected her to pick up, never thought for one moment that she'd still have her phone turned on or would bother to answer when she saw his number flash across the screen. But she did, and when he heard her voice, rough with sleep, he nearly dropped his phone in the snow.
"Josh?"
He cursed himself for calling her a second time. He shouldn't have done it. He should have just left things as they were. But he'd wanted - no, needed - to talk to her, to let her know that despite his pathetic message from earlier, he hadn't wanted to interrupt her holiday.
"Donna?!" His voice squeaked and he cleared his throat, trying valiantly to get himself under control before saying anything else.
"Yeah." He heard a masculine voice, then Donna's muffled one, followed by the creak of bedsprings. "It's the middle of the night, Josh. What's wrong?"
"I, uh… listen, I didn't mean to - Hey, tell Jack I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" she asked, and he wasn't sure who was more panicked - Donna, because he was calling so late and surely something had happened or he wouldn't have called, or himself because he hadn't expected her to pick up at all, and now he was faced with what was surely going to be an incredibly uncomfortable conversation.
He swallowed. "For… for calling. I really didn't mean to interrupt. Or intrude. Or… you know what? Forget I even called. It was… nothing. I just…"
"What? What's happened?" she demanded, and her tone made him flinch, because no matter what excuse he conjured for calling her now, he was sure it wouldn't nearly be enough for scaring her into thinking that something was really and truly wrong.
"I just wanted to say… I missed you. And I was thinking about how much you liked Christmas and -"
"That's all? You called to tell me you missed me?" The concern and the worry were gone now, replaced by a hint of annoyance and he cringed as he stopped next to his snow covered stoop and stared up at his dark apartment windows.
"Yeah," he whispered and the silence stretched so long that he was startled when he heard her voice again, tired and weary and full of sadness. "No, Josh. You don't get to be like this. Not now. Not after - you don't get to be like this."
He pulled his gaze from the windows and squinted up at the darkened sky, hoping to see just a glimmer of starlight but seeing none. "Like this?"
She sighed and he regretted, not for the first time this evening or even the first time this month, all the things he hadn't and couldn't tell her. "You're not my husband or my boyfriend, Josh. You're my boss. You can't sabotage -"
His brows shot together and he glared at the empty street. "I'm not!"
"You are."
"How?" he asked stubbornly, and he immediately regretted it. He knew how he was acting, and he knew, too, that she was simply verbalizing what they both understood.
"Josh…"
"Look, I'm sorry," he said, meaning it with his whole heart, and not just in the obvious ways she was sure to interpret, but in so many ways that he couldn't even vocalize. "Tell Jack I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to - I'll talk to you when you get back."
She didn't reply, simply disconnected the call, a sharp reminder of how she had left him in his office, alone and pathetic, wanting a connection he couldn't have.
Shoulders slumped, he made his way up the stairs and into the building, knowing that tonight, at least, his only companion would be the Ghost of Christmas Past.
*End*
Author: Christine
Pair: Josh/Donna
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Holy Night
Disclaimer: Not mine. Aaron's, John's, etc.
Notes: Bex really is one of the best. Even if she critiqued my html tag placements. ;)
(MWAH! You know I love you. Thank you!)
*****
"Hey, it's me. Leo went home a few minutes ago. We didn't quite manage peace in the Middle East, but we tried damned hard and we got a truce of sorts and the start of a roof raising team and… It's really quiet here. And I know you're not picking up for a reason. I know you're having a romantic holiday in a quaint little inn far away from work and Washington and me, but…" He paused, not quite sure what else to say. "I didn't get to give you your gift. And it's sitting here on my desk and I was thinking about you and…"
He almost said it -- that he missed her, that he was mad at her for leaving without saying goodbye, that it was too quiet and it was Christmas and it was their holiday but since she'd left he had no one to celebrate with and he really wished she were here with him instead of there with Jack. But he didn't say any of it. Instead, he took a deep breath and simply added, "Merry Christmas, Donna. I'll see you in a few days."
He hung up before he lost his resolve and blurted out all kinds of things he knew he shouldn't say, knew he couldn't say.
Grabbing his bag from under his desk, he hefted it over his shoulder and headed out the door, stopping in the lobby when he noticed the tree and all the other Christmas decorations.
Donna loved this time of year, loved the glitter and the glamour and the shine, loved the joyful pomp of the Marine bands and the sweet innocence of the children's choirs. She always made sure that he appreciated them, too, even when he was being his most stubborn. Especially then. She never let him forget that Christmas wasn't just about baby Jesus or modern commercialism, but about friends and love and sharing, about being with those you hold most dear and letting them know how much they meant.
She'd made sure he remembered those things this year, too, but he didn't think he'd fully appreciated them until now.
The tree really was beautiful, he noted, as he looked up at the huge evergreen bursting with color. The small lights hidden amongst the branches caught each shiny glass ornament in just the right way to make the entire tree seem as if it were aglow. And if that weren't enough, there were great swags of holly and ribbon draped over every doorway and arch in the room, making it seem as if you were stepping into a magical wonderland each time you crossed the threshold.
Donna always pointed that out, too, in those same exact words. It was both frustrating and heartening that he remembered them now, when she was enjoying a magical wonderland with someone else.
Not that he blamed her, he thought, as he wound his scarf tight around his neck and shuffled out into the still-falling snow. She'd taken care of him for far too many Christmases, had let his needs dictate hers for far too long. It was time that she enjoyed the holidays instead of taking care of him.
Maybe he should call and leave another message, let her know that he hadn't - what? Wanted to make her feel guilty for leaving him alone, for not saying goodbye, for not even sparing a thought for him before hopping on that news helicopter? He had wanted to make her feel that way, to some extent at least. And maybe he hadn't said any of those things in his message earlier, but she knew him. She knew how he thought and how he behaved and she'd know that's what he'd meant. Wasn't it better just to let it go, to let her enjoy the rest of her weekend, without any additional interference from him?
It would be, he knew, but he couldn't seem to help himself as he walked the final few blocks to his apartment. He found himself fishing his phone from his pocket and awkwardly dialing it with a gloved finger.
He never expected her to pick up, never thought for one moment that she'd still have her phone turned on or would bother to answer when she saw his number flash across the screen. But she did, and when he heard her voice, rough with sleep, he nearly dropped his phone in the snow.
"Josh?"
He cursed himself for calling her a second time. He shouldn't have done it. He should have just left things as they were. But he'd wanted - no, needed - to talk to her, to let her know that despite his pathetic message from earlier, he hadn't wanted to interrupt her holiday.
"Donna?!" His voice squeaked and he cleared his throat, trying valiantly to get himself under control before saying anything else.
"Yeah." He heard a masculine voice, then Donna's muffled one, followed by the creak of bedsprings. "It's the middle of the night, Josh. What's wrong?"
"I, uh… listen, I didn't mean to - Hey, tell Jack I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" she asked, and he wasn't sure who was more panicked - Donna, because he was calling so late and surely something had happened or he wouldn't have called, or himself because he hadn't expected her to pick up at all, and now he was faced with what was surely going to be an incredibly uncomfortable conversation.
He swallowed. "For… for calling. I really didn't mean to interrupt. Or intrude. Or… you know what? Forget I even called. It was… nothing. I just…"
"What? What's happened?" she demanded, and her tone made him flinch, because no matter what excuse he conjured for calling her now, he was sure it wouldn't nearly be enough for scaring her into thinking that something was really and truly wrong.
"I just wanted to say… I missed you. And I was thinking about how much you liked Christmas and -"
"That's all? You called to tell me you missed me?" The concern and the worry were gone now, replaced by a hint of annoyance and he cringed as he stopped next to his snow covered stoop and stared up at his dark apartment windows.
"Yeah," he whispered and the silence stretched so long that he was startled when he heard her voice again, tired and weary and full of sadness. "No, Josh. You don't get to be like this. Not now. Not after - you don't get to be like this."
He pulled his gaze from the windows and squinted up at the darkened sky, hoping to see just a glimmer of starlight but seeing none. "Like this?"
She sighed and he regretted, not for the first time this evening or even the first time this month, all the things he hadn't and couldn't tell her. "You're not my husband or my boyfriend, Josh. You're my boss. You can't sabotage -"
His brows shot together and he glared at the empty street. "I'm not!"
"You are."
"How?" he asked stubbornly, and he immediately regretted it. He knew how he was acting, and he knew, too, that she was simply verbalizing what they both understood.
"Josh…"
"Look, I'm sorry," he said, meaning it with his whole heart, and not just in the obvious ways she was sure to interpret, but in so many ways that he couldn't even vocalize. "Tell Jack I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to - I'll talk to you when you get back."
She didn't reply, simply disconnected the call, a sharp reminder of how she had left him in his office, alone and pathetic, wanting a connection he couldn't have.
Shoulders slumped, he made his way up the stairs and into the building, knowing that tonight, at least, his only companion would be the Ghost of Christmas Past.
*End*