The First Half Hour
This is my most recent LJ post, but it was my first fic ever, maybe from February or March, well before we even had any spoilers for "Election Day," and this was my speculation on how Josh, Donna, and the Santos campaign might learn of Leo's death. This takes place in a world where "The Cold" happened, but there was no resolution yet.
Title: The First Half Hour
Character: Josh, Donna, Santo’s Campaign
Category: Romance, angst
Pairing: Josh/Donna
Rating: Teen
Summary: Speculation on how the Santos campaign learns of Leo’s death
Feedback: I’d love it.
Donna sat propped on the bed of her hotel room, which looked like a war zone, scattered as it was with papers and shoes and the remains of the Chinese left-overs she’d taken up with her after the last meeting of the evening finally broke up. The disorganization was unlike her, and it irritated, but if she had time to clean up, she would have time to sleep as well. As it was, she had to settle for being dressed for bed, in boxers and an old and threadbare University of Wisconsin tee-shirt, while reading her briefing notes for tomorrow morning. “No, make that this morning,” she thought as she rubbed her tired eyes and looked at the alarm clock on the night stand. Two a.m. God, had she really signed up to do this again? Of course she had, but she’d been campaigning for the better part of a year now, and she was tired.
She put away the briefing notes and reached to turn out the light, but as she snuggled down into the pillows, sighing at the first moment of total relaxation that she sometimes cherished as her favorite part of the day, there was a knock on the door. Donna groaned, but didn’t open her eyes, and the knock came again, firmer this time. She reached for the lamp and padded her way to the door, telling the person on the other side to wait just a minute, but in a voice so quiet she knew it probably couldn’t be heard. A glance through the peep hole showed the back of an unruly head of curls, and she opened the door with an exhausted “What, Josh?”
But Josh turned back to face her as the door opened, and even as he words left her mouth she could tell something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Josh’s face was ashen, his jaw clinched and the muscle on the side of his face twitched as it tended to do when he was upset.
“Donna,” he said, and his voice shook.
“Josh?” She took him by the hand, not thinking about the significance of such a gesture, even though things has begun to change since spontaneous kiss a week earlier in another hotel room, and led him into her room and shut the door.
Josh released her hand and walked further into the room, rubbing his hand over his face, resting the other on his hip. She took in his disheveled appearance, dress shirt un-tucked and wrinkled, tie and jacket long discarded, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, certainly nothing unusual. Except his face. Donna had only seen that look when she told him his father had died. Oh, God. His mother? Had something happened to his mother? She’d talked to Mrs. Lyman recently, but things happen, and if anyone knew about the injustice of random acts of fate, it was Donna. She followed him to where he now stood in front of the window, placed her hand on his shoulder, and she could feel his trembling resonate through her arm.
“Josh.” This time more firmly, a command to bring him back to her, to the present so that he could tell her what had happened. He spun around and wrapped her in his arms, buried his face in her hair at the base of her neck, and held on tight. Stunned, Donna held on too, now able to feel that his whole body was shaking, and she realized that she was afraid. The waves of emotion coming off of Josh, they could only be grief or despair, were nearly tangible, and she selfishly wanted to delay the moment when she would know why, and she would have to share in this darkness.
Josh tightened his grip, if that was possible, and finally spoke.
“He . . . Leo had another heart attack.”
“No.”
“Donna, Leo’s gone.”
“No.”
And suddenly Josh was strong and Donna was weak. Josh became Donna’s anchor and she couldn’t breathe because the sobs that welled up were choking her, even though she made almost no sound. The silent sobs were painful, like dry heaving, and she couldn’t make it stop. Josh was cooing in her ear, making the soothing sounds that you make when faced with another’s despair and waited her out. Donna finally began to regain her self, and Josh placed both his hands on her cheeks and rested his forehead against hers, and Donna began to feel stronger and to think more clearly, only to discover that clearer thoughts were not comforting.
“Does the president know?”
“I don’t know. Ron’s probably told CJ by now.” And then he staggered under another thought. “God. Toby and Sam.”
Donna realized that he was right about CJ and the President, but Toby and Sam were out of the official information loop, and it was up to them to make sure they knew before CNN did.
Josh called Sam first, and sitting on the edge of Donna’s bed he looked so alone and sad that as he talked, Donna climbed on the bed and proceeded to wrap herself around him. She sat on her knees, put one on each side of Josh’s hips, wrapped her arms around him, one around his waist and the other under his arm and up to the opposite shoulder, and placed her chin on the other shoulder, thus surrounding him with her warmth, holding him up physically as well as emotionally while he delivered the worst of all possible news to the scattered members of their extended family. When he finally finished, Josh leaned his head back onto Donna’s shoulder, and she could feel the dampness on his cheek where it met hers. Setting the phone aside, he placed his own arms over hers and cried softly. It was the first time Donna had ever seen him cry, and the intimacy of the moment was nearly as overwhelming as the grief.
Collecting himself, Josh said, “We gotta have a meeting. I gotta tell the congressman, and then we need to tell everyone else.”
Donna’s voice switched into work mode, though she didn’t let go of Josh. “I’ll get everyone together while you talk to the Congressman.”
“No. Get Bram to do it. I can’t do this by myself, Donna. Come with me? Please?”
Donna called Bram, giving no explanation except that he should gather the staff and meet them in 15 minutes. Then she stepped into the bathroom to quickly redress in jeans and a sweater, pushing away thoughts of another night she had re-dressed in the first things she could find with a knot of dread in the pit of her stomach. Emerging, she grabbed her keys, reached for Josh’s hand. “Let’s go.”
They waited in the outer room of the Santos’ suite in silence. After a minute, Matt and Helen came out wrapped in bath robes, sleepy eyed and stumbling a little, as if not actually awake. Helen leaned in the door frame of the bed room, while Matt stood in the middle of the room, and if he was surprised to find both Josh and Donna in his hotel room at 2:30 in the morning, he didn’t show it. “What is it, Josh?”
“Congressman, at 1:00 this morning, Leo’s secret service detail heard a crash in his hotel room. They entered to find him unconscious, and called an ambulance, and he was . . . pronounced dead . . . upon arrival at GW.”
“Another heart attack?”
“Yeah,” but his voice was gravelly, nearly gone.
During the exchange, both Donna and Helen had moved to stand closer to the two men. Donna’s hand rested between Josh’s shoulder blades, while Helen now stood at Matt’s side, their arms around each other. Josh cleared his throat and continued, “I’ve called staff meeting in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” and Matt looked bewildered, lost, shell shocked, Donna thought. She and Josh left them standing there and walked two doors down to the room where the staff had assembled. There was a tension in the room, an understanding that something must be wrong. All eyes fell on Josh as he closed the door, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Rubbing his hand through his hair, Josh thought that this would be the 5th time in less than 30 minutes he’d had to inform someone that Leo was dead, and every time it just got worse, more real, and he couldn’t form the words. Donna looked at him and understood, and giving him a slight nod, faced the room herself and repeated to the campaign staff the same words Josh used to tell the congressman. A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room, and Josh finally found his voice again. “No one except Donna, Lou, or myself is to talk to the press. Lou, put together a statement for us to use in the morning. Something short. Just facts. Nothing about the ticket. Let the press know we will issue a statement at 7:00.” And with that he left the room.
After a brief word with Lou, Donna left as well, intent on finding Josh, but she didn’t have to go far. He was leaning against the wall, right outside the door, staring straight ahead, dry-eyed and pale. Donna looked at him, and she began to fear what this could do to Josh. Recently he had seemed to be well and stable, but he was also only just recently beginning to let her back in, and she was still unsure of her new footing when it came to Josh’s psyche. One thing was for sure, though, he needed sleep, and he needed to step out of campaign manager mode and just be Josh for a little while if he was going to handle this at all well. Wordlessly, Donna reached for his hand, and when he finally met her gaze, she tugged on his arm and led him back to her room.
“Donna, I should . . .”
“You should sleep. Lou can handle this right now. It’s ok. Trust her.”
“Yeah.”
Donna pulled back the covers on her bed, and began talking to Josh as she would to an over-wrought child, her voice steady and low, telling him to take off his shoes and helping him with the buttons on his shirt when his hands shook too much to release them himself. She practically placed him under the covers, helping him to swing his legs up, and as she tucked him in, it wasn’t lost on her that he was trusting her, too. She crawled into bed on the other side, and automatically Josh pulled her to him and held her tight. Lost in their grief and shock, searching for the oblivion of sleep, neither paused to consider that this was the first time they had ever shared a bed.
Title: The First Half Hour
Character: Josh, Donna, Santo’s Campaign
Category: Romance, angst
Pairing: Josh/Donna
Rating: Teen
Summary: Speculation on how the Santos campaign learns of Leo’s death
Feedback: I’d love it.
Donna sat propped on the bed of her hotel room, which looked like a war zone, scattered as it was with papers and shoes and the remains of the Chinese left-overs she’d taken up with her after the last meeting of the evening finally broke up. The disorganization was unlike her, and it irritated, but if she had time to clean up, she would have time to sleep as well. As it was, she had to settle for being dressed for bed, in boxers and an old and threadbare University of Wisconsin tee-shirt, while reading her briefing notes for tomorrow morning. “No, make that this morning,” she thought as she rubbed her tired eyes and looked at the alarm clock on the night stand. Two a.m. God, had she really signed up to do this again? Of course she had, but she’d been campaigning for the better part of a year now, and she was tired.
She put away the briefing notes and reached to turn out the light, but as she snuggled down into the pillows, sighing at the first moment of total relaxation that she sometimes cherished as her favorite part of the day, there was a knock on the door. Donna groaned, but didn’t open her eyes, and the knock came again, firmer this time. She reached for the lamp and padded her way to the door, telling the person on the other side to wait just a minute, but in a voice so quiet she knew it probably couldn’t be heard. A glance through the peep hole showed the back of an unruly head of curls, and she opened the door with an exhausted “What, Josh?”
But Josh turned back to face her as the door opened, and even as he words left her mouth she could tell something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Josh’s face was ashen, his jaw clinched and the muscle on the side of his face twitched as it tended to do when he was upset.
“Donna,” he said, and his voice shook.
“Josh?” She took him by the hand, not thinking about the significance of such a gesture, even though things has begun to change since spontaneous kiss a week earlier in another hotel room, and led him into her room and shut the door.
Josh released her hand and walked further into the room, rubbing his hand over his face, resting the other on his hip. She took in his disheveled appearance, dress shirt un-tucked and wrinkled, tie and jacket long discarded, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, certainly nothing unusual. Except his face. Donna had only seen that look when she told him his father had died. Oh, God. His mother? Had something happened to his mother? She’d talked to Mrs. Lyman recently, but things happen, and if anyone knew about the injustice of random acts of fate, it was Donna. She followed him to where he now stood in front of the window, placed her hand on his shoulder, and she could feel his trembling resonate through her arm.
“Josh.” This time more firmly, a command to bring him back to her, to the present so that he could tell her what had happened. He spun around and wrapped her in his arms, buried his face in her hair at the base of her neck, and held on tight. Stunned, Donna held on too, now able to feel that his whole body was shaking, and she realized that she was afraid. The waves of emotion coming off of Josh, they could only be grief or despair, were nearly tangible, and she selfishly wanted to delay the moment when she would know why, and she would have to share in this darkness.
Josh tightened his grip, if that was possible, and finally spoke.
“He . . . Leo had another heart attack.”
“No.”
“Donna, Leo’s gone.”
“No.”
And suddenly Josh was strong and Donna was weak. Josh became Donna’s anchor and she couldn’t breathe because the sobs that welled up were choking her, even though she made almost no sound. The silent sobs were painful, like dry heaving, and she couldn’t make it stop. Josh was cooing in her ear, making the soothing sounds that you make when faced with another’s despair and waited her out. Donna finally began to regain her self, and Josh placed both his hands on her cheeks and rested his forehead against hers, and Donna began to feel stronger and to think more clearly, only to discover that clearer thoughts were not comforting.
“Does the president know?”
“I don’t know. Ron’s probably told CJ by now.” And then he staggered under another thought. “God. Toby and Sam.”
Donna realized that he was right about CJ and the President, but Toby and Sam were out of the official information loop, and it was up to them to make sure they knew before CNN did.
Josh called Sam first, and sitting on the edge of Donna’s bed he looked so alone and sad that as he talked, Donna climbed on the bed and proceeded to wrap herself around him. She sat on her knees, put one on each side of Josh’s hips, wrapped her arms around him, one around his waist and the other under his arm and up to the opposite shoulder, and placed her chin on the other shoulder, thus surrounding him with her warmth, holding him up physically as well as emotionally while he delivered the worst of all possible news to the scattered members of their extended family. When he finally finished, Josh leaned his head back onto Donna’s shoulder, and she could feel the dampness on his cheek where it met hers. Setting the phone aside, he placed his own arms over hers and cried softly. It was the first time Donna had ever seen him cry, and the intimacy of the moment was nearly as overwhelming as the grief.
Collecting himself, Josh said, “We gotta have a meeting. I gotta tell the congressman, and then we need to tell everyone else.”
Donna’s voice switched into work mode, though she didn’t let go of Josh. “I’ll get everyone together while you talk to the Congressman.”
“No. Get Bram to do it. I can’t do this by myself, Donna. Come with me? Please?”
Donna called Bram, giving no explanation except that he should gather the staff and meet them in 15 minutes. Then she stepped into the bathroom to quickly redress in jeans and a sweater, pushing away thoughts of another night she had re-dressed in the first things she could find with a knot of dread in the pit of her stomach. Emerging, she grabbed her keys, reached for Josh’s hand. “Let’s go.”
They waited in the outer room of the Santos’ suite in silence. After a minute, Matt and Helen came out wrapped in bath robes, sleepy eyed and stumbling a little, as if not actually awake. Helen leaned in the door frame of the bed room, while Matt stood in the middle of the room, and if he was surprised to find both Josh and Donna in his hotel room at 2:30 in the morning, he didn’t show it. “What is it, Josh?”
“Congressman, at 1:00 this morning, Leo’s secret service detail heard a crash in his hotel room. They entered to find him unconscious, and called an ambulance, and he was . . . pronounced dead . . . upon arrival at GW.”
“Another heart attack?”
“Yeah,” but his voice was gravelly, nearly gone.
During the exchange, both Donna and Helen had moved to stand closer to the two men. Donna’s hand rested between Josh’s shoulder blades, while Helen now stood at Matt’s side, their arms around each other. Josh cleared his throat and continued, “I’ve called staff meeting in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” and Matt looked bewildered, lost, shell shocked, Donna thought. She and Josh left them standing there and walked two doors down to the room where the staff had assembled. There was a tension in the room, an understanding that something must be wrong. All eyes fell on Josh as he closed the door, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Rubbing his hand through his hair, Josh thought that this would be the 5th time in less than 30 minutes he’d had to inform someone that Leo was dead, and every time it just got worse, more real, and he couldn’t form the words. Donna looked at him and understood, and giving him a slight nod, faced the room herself and repeated to the campaign staff the same words Josh used to tell the congressman. A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room, and Josh finally found his voice again. “No one except Donna, Lou, or myself is to talk to the press. Lou, put together a statement for us to use in the morning. Something short. Just facts. Nothing about the ticket. Let the press know we will issue a statement at 7:00.” And with that he left the room.
After a brief word with Lou, Donna left as well, intent on finding Josh, but she didn’t have to go far. He was leaning against the wall, right outside the door, staring straight ahead, dry-eyed and pale. Donna looked at him, and she began to fear what this could do to Josh. Recently he had seemed to be well and stable, but he was also only just recently beginning to let her back in, and she was still unsure of her new footing when it came to Josh’s psyche. One thing was for sure, though, he needed sleep, and he needed to step out of campaign manager mode and just be Josh for a little while if he was going to handle this at all well. Wordlessly, Donna reached for his hand, and when he finally met her gaze, she tugged on his arm and led him back to her room.
“Donna, I should . . .”
“You should sleep. Lou can handle this right now. It’s ok. Trust her.”
“Yeah.”
Donna pulled back the covers on her bed, and began talking to Josh as she would to an over-wrought child, her voice steady and low, telling him to take off his shoes and helping him with the buttons on his shirt when his hands shook too much to release them himself. She practically placed him under the covers, helping him to swing his legs up, and as she tucked him in, it wasn’t lost on her that he was trusting her, too. She crawled into bed on the other side, and automatically Josh pulled her to him and held her tight. Lost in their grief and shock, searching for the oblivion of sleep, neither paused to consider that this was the first time they had ever shared a bed.