Politics (The Few Shallow Steps Remix)
Sometimes Josh thinks that as many mistakes as he has made in his life, and it's a lot, he never learns enough from them to move him forward.
"You're damaged merchandise," Donna says to him, teasingly, during a When Harry Met Sally - esque debate about relationships. And Josh thinks that she's probably right, except that no one's ever opened up the box to see if he might work anyhow.
Yale and Harvard and the White House and Air Force One, and old bitter girlfriends and gun shots and death death death, all over his shoulder. Yet here he is still standing in the same place he was years before he even started College. Josh wonders if as long as the world keeps moving under his feet, he could go the rest of his life and never have to take a step in any unreliable direction.
The nature of politics allows him enough leniency there, the ability to escape without having to answer to anyone. Except those times Donna hits a little too close to the truth when they're sparing, or when he can't help thinking that there are some sacrifices he shouldn't be willing to make for his job, but does and does every day, to make up for the ones he didn't. Every time someone uses the word "forget" now or watches him warily, Josh knows that his mistakes haven't really taught him anything at all.
Because you carry around so much guilt from everyone you love dying that you're a compulsive fixer?
Pain isn't something Josh is comfortable with. Stubbed toes and paper cuts. Josh's never really thought past that truth, because it always made sense that he should avoid it as steadily as possible.
When he was shot, a bullet hole neatly cut into his flesh and scarred there, probably for life, it changed things. Not because it didn't feel like pain, the same way paper cuts did, or because he could have died, he didn't. It meant having nonwashable blood stains on his shirt so that he had to throw it out with the next day's trash. But more than that, Josh never thought he'd be so content to lie bleeding on a sidewalk and to feel, for the first time, like it was the only place he should be. Like finally being in the right place at the right time.
Because you carry around so much guilt from everyone you love dying
Toby asks Josh to go to Rosh Hashanah with him, which is so unlike him that Josh doesn't know what to say for the long moment while his mouth works to open. He just taps at the head of a stapler, spelling out a misshapen form of morse code.
"It's not that I wouldn't," he says finally, already seeing an expression of indifference stretching subtlety over Toby's face as Josh tries to shrug it off. "I'm just feeling a little too secular lately to be at church."
For a moment Toby's eyes look the same as they did that night, a flash of light and colour before Josh had fallen backward and everything dimmed out. He flinches and stands up suddenly. Josh wants to say "sorry", or something more substantial, but his throat's all closed up and so he just flashes an empty smile before leaving the room. He's been avoiding Toby's eyes for months, another day can't hurt.
Because you carry around so much guilt
He goes to a meeting with the President, and for some reason no matter how many times Josh says his name out loud, rolls it off his tongue oiled and easy, he always thinks of him as a title. He wonders sometimes if his tendency to separate person from action is what fucks up his relationships over and over.
"How are you?" Bartlet asks and Josh is strapped for an answer for a moment, even a token one that plays away the nonchalant seriousness of the question.
He wants to say, 'I'm not feeling like me' or maybe just 'fine' but something snaps in his head and he ends up mumbling something that sounds like "okay" but obviously means he isn't.
"You should get outside more, Josh. You're looking pale." It sounds casual and a bit teasing, which Josh is grateful for, if only so he doesn't have to come up with a proper retort. That's one aspect where he and Bartlet see eye to eye.
Politics is a gamble and Bartlet never even laid his chips down, but if there's one thing Josh knows, it's how to take advantage of a good opportunity. Which makes him wonder why he didn't just let himself bleed to death on the sidewalk, and it's thoughts like those that just end up making him feel guilty.
It doesn't help either that Donna is always watching him now, a little bit hurt. He doesn't know what to say to her, he doesn't have anything to say. Apologies don't make up for anything.
Because you carry
Josh uses the clean side of his take-out dinner napkin and lists off in neat symmetrical columns all the pros and cons that would have resulted from him dying. The list is even by the end, everything separated by a straight line down the middle, and Josh wonders what it adds up to. He really doesn't want to die, not in the actual physicality of it, but sometimes it seems like it would have been easier, on everybody, if he had. When he runs a finger down the list of pros, smearing the ink slightly, the reasons all look selfish.
"What are you doing?" Sam asks from behind him, leaning over Josh as he balances one hand on the arm rest.
Josh crumples the napkin quickly, trying not to think about the collapsing of lines, and looks up at Sam, calmly. "I'm just finished."
Because
"So, listen."
Toby raises an eye skeptically at Josh, like listening isn't something he'd ever be caught doing if he could avoid it. "To what exactly?"
Josh almost wants to forget it for a minute, but if it means having Donna smile at him again like she's in on his secret, or for his sister's memory to feel less of a ghost, it's probably worth the sacrifice in pride.
"I wanted to apologize."
"Okay." Toby looks mostly unimpressed and Josh sighs in frustration.
"Well, I don't do this a lot so you could at least try and act pleased."
Toby is silent a moment, quietly sardonic, then he says with great importance, "You know, Josh, your acerbic hubris isn't the most charming I've encountered. I'd wager that mine is better. But I'll let it slide because most of the time you're almost worth having around."
Josh's head snaps up, his fingers stilling on the clipboard, but Toby doesn't look different, just a little bit smug as usual, which is how Josh knows. He hasn't really believed until now that maybe someone knew what he was thinking, that maybe someone, Toby of all people, wasn't watching him like any minute he might just evaporate to make up for lost time.
It has been a long time coming for Josh, that he have a reason to maybe take some steps, to stop waiting, waiting, when it doesn't solve anything. The thought that everyone had been right about him all along stalls him for a moment, paralysed by expectation. Then he takes a breath and moves forward, because he can.
Josh: "You like winning, don't you?"
Toby: "It saves you from having to say the word, please."