Let's take a moment to think about that one, shall we?  I woke up in Josh's apartment, in Josh's bed, to discover that Josh had his arms around me and was staring at me with the most amazing look on his face.

It's the sort of look that every woman should see at least once in her life.  Though if you think you'll ever see that look on Josh Lyman's face, well, I'm sorry but I will have to kill you.

I should point out that this was all entirely innocent.  I just went over to Josh's place to make sure he was all right, we got to talking, he admitted he hadn't been sleeping, he mentioned that he might sleep better if I stayed and, well, you see how that was perfectly innocent, don't you?  I mean, I even started out the night sleeping on the couch.  It was just when I heard Josh in the middle of what sounded like a very bad nightmare that I got the idea to climb into bed and hold him.  He slept pretty peacefully after that, although I will admit that it took me awhile to fall back asleep.  And then, when I did wake up, there was Josh, giving me that look.

Took my breath away, I'm telling you.

Now I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that one of two things happened: either I abandoned the sensible resolution I'd made the night before not to make love to Josh until he's gotten over this nervous breakdown he seems to be in the middle of or there was much blushing and awkward behavior, which could have its own damaging effect on our relationship.

Wrong on both counts.

No, we were just us -- perfectly natural and at ease with each other.  This was a pretty astounding discovery all by itself.  Waking up with Josh Lyman just seemed like something I'm supposed to be doing, something I've done a thousand times before.  Nothing awkward about it.  And, yes, I freely admit that the thought of doing something unprofessional (well, even more unprofessional than spending the night in my boss' bed) did occur to me.  Especially when it dawned on me that Josh was having a rather obvious (and quite impressive, I might add) physical reaction to my presence.  But even then all I could do was smile because this was us, together, and this was the way our lives were supposed to be.

Okay, I admit it.  Although I remained firm (bad choice of words, in light of that physical reaction I mentioned?) regarding my resolve not to make love to Josh, it did cross my mind that there's intercourse and there's, well, what you might call mutual oral gratification.  I was thinking that maybe we could compromise on that issue.  I mean, I've always wondered whether that glib tongue and the much-vaunted 760 verbal SAT score might translate into other sorts of talents, you know?  It's, I will admit, a long-standing curiosity.  I was talking myself into suggesting a compromise, but then Josh displayed his usual lack of timing.  He kissed me.  It was a very sweet kiss.  Hell, it wasn't really even a kiss.  I mean, it was, but it was a kiss on the forehead, which was not what the rest of my body was screaming out for, if you get my drift.  And before I could mention any of this, the incredible dork got out of bed and headed for the shower.  Judging by the lack of physical reaction when I next saw him, it must have been a very cold shower.

Still, it was a good morning.  The best morning I've had since -- well, the best morning I've had, ever.

And then he spoke, and the world came crashing down around me.  And this time, you know, he was even trying to be nice.

"Thanks," he said.  "I think you may have saved my life last night."

What the hell do you say to something like that?  I mean, besides wanting to scream at him to never, ever say something like that again?  So I didn't say anything.  I muttered something about having to get home to change into my work clothes and seeing him at the office later.  And I cried all the way back to my apartment.

Once I got to the office that morning, I watched him like a hawk.  I mean, even more than I normally do.  There were some nice moments: he brought me coffee.  This may not mean anything to you, but coffee and who brings it play a significant role in our -- whatever it is we have.  But mostly, as the morning wore on, he got progressively more tense, more irritable, more difficult to deal with.  Around noon, he went off for a meeting on the Hill.  A little later, I went to lunch with CJ.  The two of us compared notes, scared the crap out of each other, and agreed that Josh needed more help than we could provide.  We agreed that someone had to tell Leo, and I insisted that it should be me.

I mean, it has to be.  Josh is my responsibility.  It has to be me.

So here I am.

I should explain something:  I am not close to Leo McGarry.

Don't get me wrong.  I respect the man.  I am, frankly, in awe of him.  But, you know, I find Leo more intimidating than anyone in this building.  Seriously.  I would find it easier to strike up a personal conversation with President Bartlet than with Leo.

Joshua Lyman, if what I am about to do is not proof of my love for you, I don't know what is.

Josh, I should mention, is still in that meeting on the Hill.  (God, please don't let him lose it in front of a roomful of Republicans!)  Judging from the clocks on the wall, I have ten minutes until Margaret gets back from lunch.

Margaret, you should know, is a creature of habit.  Her lunch time is fixed.  As quite possibly the only person other than the president who is not intimidated by Leo, she long ago announced that she would be lunching precisely between 1 and 2 p.m. daily.  Regular eating habits, she maintains, are crucial to the digestive process.  Leo, for reasons known only to himself, works his own schedule around Margaret's eating habits.

And they say my relationship with Josh is bizarre.

With any luck, Leo's door will be unguarded in Margaret's absence.  I mean, I'm sure Margaret would let me in; I just don't feel like sharing the reason for my unscheduled appearance with a third party.

I pick up a folder, because I want this to look like a regular errand if anyone sees me, and I head off to Leo's office.

I have no idea what I'm going to say.

Luckily, Leo is sitting on the couch, reading some papers.  He glances up, looks at the folder and asks me if it's from Josh.

"No," I answer.  "It's just -- I was -- I needed a reason to see you if anyone asked."

Leo takes off his glasses and looks at me.  He sees entirely too much, that man.  "You want to talk about Josh?" he asks.

I nod.  "I'm worried about him," I say.  And then it occurs to me that, as far as Leo's concerned, I'm just Josh's assistant; what do I know?  So I add, "CJ is too."  Besides, you know, there's safety in numbers.  If CJ's involved, Leo's less likely to think I've noticed because I have inappropriate, non-platonic feelings toward my boss.

Leo motions for me to sit down.  "Why are you worried?"

"He isn't sleeping," I start and immediately realize I have made an incriminating statement.  "I mean, he comes in every morning looking awful and I finally asked him and he admitted he isn't sleeping."

See, Leo?  Perfectly innocent.  I did not spend last night in Josh Lyman's bed, I did not plant about a dozen kisses on his shoulder, I did not run my fingers over the scar on his chest, I did not wake up with his arms around me.

I'm just his assistant.

Leo looks at me as though he's judging how much weight to give my words, so I give him more to think about.  "He's not acting like himself, Leo.  He's shutting himself off from everyone who cares about him.  He told me he doesn't -- he doesn't feel things like he used to.  That he's numb.  That he resents all of us for not getting shot.  He loses his temper easily.  Okay, Josh has always had a temper.  But this is -- he's said some deliberately cruel things lately."

"To whom?"

"To -- well, I guess mostly to me."

"What kinds of things?"

"If it's all the same, I'd rather not repeat them.  But they were things I never imagined Josh saying."

Oh, shit.  I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes.  I am not going to cry in front of Leo McGarry, dammit!  Not over the damn self-worth remark.

"And," I go on, "he's said some things to both CJ and to me that have us worried that he might be--"  And then my nerve gives out completely.  This is it.  If I say this next thing, I could be destroying Josh's career in politics.  I can't say it.  Not in front of Leo.

"You're afraid he'll hurt himself, aren't you, Donna?"

How about that?  Leo can't come right out and say it either.  I nod.  I'm staring at my hands because I am not very good at begging, but I think that's what I'll have to do next.  But it's for Josh, so I can manage it.  Hell, for Josh I will grovel if need be.

"So the thing is," I start, "that Josh obviously needs help if he's going to get through this.  I mean, he knows there's a problem and he's tried to fight it on his own, and he just can't.  But I know he's afraid to get help because of the -- the political ramifications."  I do look up at Leo then.  "You know how Josh is; he would die before he'd do anything that would harm President Bartlet."

"And if he doesn't get help soon," Leo finishes for me, "he will die."

I think of myself as a pragmatic person.  I believe in facing facts.  I've tried to face this one, however, and I keep backing down from it.

"I don't think he'd do that," I say.  "Not really.  He just--"

"Donna, the best thing you can do for Josh right now is admit to yourself just how serious things are."

"Well, I am.  I have.  But Josh--"  When in doubt, fall back on humor.  "Josh has such an enormous ego, he couldn't bear to deprive the world of his presence."

"Josh is a strong person," Leo says, "and you're right about his ego.  But in some ways, he's too sensitive."

I nod vigorously because Leo is absolutely right, and it's something that very few people get about Josh.

"He's already carrying around all this guilt from his childhood," Leo says.

"Joanie and the fire," I agree.

Leo looks stunned.  "He's told you about that?"

"Yes, but I don't think he remembers telling me.  It was right after he broke up with Mandy.  He got drunk and came over to my place--"

The concerned family friend vanishes, and the White House Chief of Staff reappears.  "He did what?"

"He has a delicate system," I explain.  "He'd only had two beers.  Three at the most.  And he couldn't remember Sam's address."

"And yet he remembered yours."

"It's an easy address to remember.  Lots of zeros.  He yelled at my roommate's cats," I add.  Somehow I think that detail makes it sound more innocent.

Apparently, Leo does too, as I can tell that his blood pressure is dropping back to normal levels.  "And how did he get from yelling at the cats to telling you about his sister?"

"Well, he got off on this whole 'everybody I love leaves me' thing, and he told me then.  Although he didn't tell me much.  Just that there was a fire and he thinks maybe it was his fault.  And I told him I'm sure it wasn't."

Leo gives me a look as though he's reassessing everything he knows about Josh and me.  "Suppose I told you the fire was Josh's fault?" he asks.

"You'd be lying," I answer.

"Yes, I would.  But no one's ever been able to convince Josh that Jonika's death wasn't his fault."

"Jonika?" I ask.

"That was Joanie's name.  Noah's parents had two children before the war -- Joshua and Jonika.  They both died in Birkenau, and Noah named Josh and Joanie for the brother and sister he never knew."

"So Josh has got all this tragic family history, and now he's the victim of a hate crime," I say.  "It's too much to expect him to deal with all alone."

"Yes," Leo agrees, "it is."

"And it isn't fair to expect him to resign for getting help."

"No," Leo agrees, "it isn't.  And neither I nor President Bartlet would accept his resignation."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"I'll look into some things, Donna," Leo promises.  "I think we can find some way to get Josh the help he needs without the press finding out."

"Thank you, Leo."

"Don't thank me yet.  Even if we find him help, that doesn't mean he'll take it.  I'm speaking from experience here.  And even if he does admit he needs help, the recovery will be slow and painful and worse than getting over that bullet wound."

"I know."

"And," Leo adds, with what you might call a piercing stare, "this would probably be the worst time for Josh to, say, start a new relationship.  Or redefine an old one."

"I know that too," I admit.

"Just so we're clear on that."

"Leo, I would never do anything would harm Josh.  Or his career."

"You love him that much, do you?"

Oh, what the hell?  I'm busted anyway.  "Yes, I do," I answer.

I wait for the axe to fall -- to hear the words "you're fired" or at least "you'll be reassigned tomorrow."  Instead, Leo just nods.  "The three of us will continue this conversation when Josh is better."

"There isn't any need.  Josh doesn't know that--"

"I'm curious," Leo says.  "Do the two of you honestly believe you're fooling anyone besides yourselves?"

"Well, to be honest," I answer, "some days we don't even do a very good job of fooling ourselves."

Leo shakes his head, but I think he's smiling.  "Like I said, we'll be continuing this discussion later when Josh can join us.  I can't begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to that."

And here I thought Josh was good at sarcasm.  He's got nothing on Leo.

I ignore Margaret's curious stare on the way out and get back to my desk just in time to hear Josh yelling for me.  He's a wreck.  Any trace of improvement I thought I noticed this morning has vanished.  "Where the hell have you been?" he asks.

I put my hands on my hips and give him my best smart-mouthed assistant look.  "I'll have you know that I'm allowed an hour for lunch, Simon Lagree."

"You can't eat at your desk?"

"Not today."

"And today would be special because...?"

I can't help it.  Like I told Leo, some days we don't even fool ourselves.  "I woke up in a very good mood," I say.

For just a second, Josh's eyes light up.  "There's a lot of that going around today," he replies.

I smile.  We haven't lost him, not yet.  And I will be damned if I'll let him destroy himself.

This has become a battle of wills between Josh and me.  Lucky thing for him that I'm the strong one.

THE END

12.23.00