Title: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme Heal All Wounds
Author: Renata (renata at frowl dot org)
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing: various
Rating: PG
Notes: Thanks, Paul Simon.

Wednesday Morning, 3AM

He hates to leave without seeing her first-- she'd been asleep when he'd gotten back-- but she'd been pissed at him, and he didn't think waking her up at 3AM Manchester time was a good idea to get back in her graces. He still wondered what he'd done to deserve her, and wondered why this wasn't enough-- why this wonderful wife, their three wonderful kids, and the New Hampshire governor's mansion wasn't enough. He knew the answer, somewhere, but he didn't know how to express it, not to himself, and certainly not to her. So he contents himself with scribbling three short words, plus two more makes five, and one more for good measure, and he leaves the love of his life with an empty pillow and a note-- I love you. I'm sorry. Jed

Red Rubber Ball

It had been a joke-- at least he thought it had been a joke-- when she had given him the rubber ball. "You squeeze it, and it reduces stress," Andie had told him.

"Mine, or its?" he had asked, and she'd laughed. But-- the campaign, and then one scandal, one world crisis, one Congressional snafu after another-- and he and Andie couldn't get pregnant-- and he didn't think there was anything he could squish to reduce his stress, so he hurled his chunk of red rubber against the wall and knew she wasn't coming back.

If I Could

If I could go back, change things, save our marriage, I would. I'd spend more time with her, more time with Mal. She's a good woman. She loved me, loved me through everything. I couldn't have made it through rehab without her.

But Jed couldn't have made it to the White House without me. (Or could he? He had Josh, he had Sam, he had Toby, he had CJ, I hear Jenny telling me.)

And I know he could have done it without me. But he wouldn't have.

Oh yes, if I could do things over again, I'd do them differently.

Wouldn't I?

She Moves On

Donna had really loved him, and this is what she cannot make Josh understand. He thinks it was just a crush, just him taking advantage of her. She isn't stupid. Josh knows she isn't stupid, but he doesn't understand why she left him for someone who would stop on the way to the emergency room.

But Josh, for all his nuanced grasp of politics, sees some things in black and white. He doesn't understand that there are degrees of moving on, just as there are degrees of love.

But she's moved on and she is moving on, and she takes his flowers, thinks back to Wisconsin, and she moves on.

Why Don't You Write Me?

Sam has written and torn up a thousand letters; he's picked up the phone and hung up halfway through dialing just as many times. Sometimes-- briefly-- he can imagine similar scenes in the West Wing. They had been so close, for so long, that it was hard for him to see that there was no pain on the other end, following their sudden, abrupt detachment. He had known it would be different, not working in the same building anymore, but he hadn't expected the total loss of contact, the dull phantom limb pain. He was the one who had left, but the silence was on both ends. So he opens a new email, types, knowing the answer, "Josh, why don't you write me?" and he closes the window.

The Sound of Silence

Another late night in the West Wing, and CJ takes a moment to marvel at the rare sound of silence. Somehow it makes her terribly lonely, and she wishes that more people were there, more yelling, more ringing phones. She'd even settle for Sam and Josh setting off the fire alarm again.

She pushes her hair behind her ear and flips on the TV. Nothing new on CNN, Fox News, or MSNBC, and why should there be? She looks around hesitantly and puts a tape in the VCR. She had missed it today, and she'd been waiting for a spare moment to watch it.

She honestly couldn't tell you how long she'd had a crush on Wolf Blitzer, and she watches him for a good fifteen minutes before leaving him on "pause" in search of a Diet Dr. Pepper.

Get yourself free