"If I tell you something, you are absolutely forbidden, under penalty of law, to share it with anyone, am I correct?"

"You're about to turn my life upside down, aren't you?" Stanley moaned. He and Josh walked along the National Mall, warming their gloved hands with cups of steaming coffee.

"I'm not gonna tell you State secrets or anything, I'm just saying, this is important, this is extremely personal, and I don't want to read about it in The Post."

Stanley looked around. "So you brought me to the center of town and to several of the biggest tourist attractions in the country. Where privacy should be simple thing to get."

"Are you gonna be serious about this, or—"

"As you know, if I am acting as your therapist I cannot share any details of anything you tell me unless you tell me that you plan to commit a crime. Then I would be legally bound to notify the authorities. You're not gonna commit a crime, are you?"

Josh stopped dead in his tracks and looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. For the first time in as long as Josh had known him, Stanley seemed to look just the slightest bit anxious.

"Josh? You're not, are you?"

"No," Josh said finally.

"OK, then. Hit me."
 
"I'm having a few...issues with what happened with the thing at the bank," Josh said.

"That's perfectly understandable. Someone you care about was the victim of a violent crime in which she could have been seriously injured or killed," Stanley responded without missing a beat. "It was a gun crime, with which you have some personal history, so that has the potential to add to the way you're feeling." He took a sip of his coffee. "What are your issues? Dreams?"

"No. None that I can remember, anyway." Josh looked down the pool toward the Lincoln Memorial. It stood white against an equally pale winter mid-morning sky. He'd arranged to walk back to the White House with Stanley from a meeting on the Hill. That way, he wouldn't have to mark it on his schedule and Donna wouldn't know they'd talked. He didn't want her to think it was about her. Which, in a sense, it was, but not really. Mostly, it was about him. And how he felt about her.

"Any flashback-like symptoms? Anything relating to your previous experience?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Josh said dismissively. They took a few more steps while he searched for the words. "It's silly."

"Maybe," Stanley nodded. "But I think you know I'm all about the silly."
 
"I'm just...It scared the hell out of me. I mean really. It scared me half to death. I've never been that scared in my life," he gestured wildly with his arms as he searched for the words. "Even...even in Rosslyn, I was terrified, but it was a different kind of fear. This..." he trailed off, shaking his head a little as he looked at the memorial again. "And it won't go away. I look at her, and I just keep thinking how easily it could have gone another way." He grew very quiet and still. "This could be her memorial later today, Stanley. I'm serious. There but for the grace of God, you know?"
 
"And?" Stanley prompted after a moment.

"And...I don't know. Now everything is different. She's different because of this thing. I feel different because of it. The way I look at her is different. The way I think--" he stopped talking abruptly and began walking again.

"Ah ha."

"Ah ha?"
 
"I can see why this is so disconcerting for you," Stanley said. "What you're feeling, Josh, is called gratitude. Now, I realize this may be a somewhat new emotion for you, but let me assure you, it's not at all bad—"

"I understand the concept of gratitude, believe it or not, Stanley. And thank you very much for the vote of confidence. You're saying that's all it is? I'm grateful she's OK and that's why I feel half-nuts?"

"I'm saying, you had a bad scare, and it came out OK, and you're feeling good about it. But you did have a scare, and experiences like that tend to shed unexpected light on certain...truths," Stanley paused as Josh looked at him. "You know, the kind of things we keep carefully hidden away."

Josh blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?" He started walking again.

"I think you know," Stanley challenged.

"Rarely do I have any idea whatsoever," Josh said.

Stanley watched him for another moment, then smiled broadly. "It got to you."

"What did?"

"This thing, it got to you. I can see it on your face. I thought I saw it when I showed up at the apartment yesterday, and I was right. You've admitted your feelings for Donna."

Josh jerked his head around, looking to see who was nearby. "Would you keep it down?"

Stanley's grin got even broader. "That's not a denial. In fact, it almost serves as a confirmation."

"Stanley—"

"I've gotta say, Josh, I was beginning to think that was some kind of permanent brain dysfunction on your part. I mean, your own brush with death didn't do it, the administration's crisis after the President's announcement didn't do it, you've lost several colleagues in the past few years, but nothing ever seemed to penetrate that deep fog your brain was wrapped in," Stanley said. "So this is what it took, huh?"

"I never said—"

"Have you told her?"

"There's nothing to tell, Stan—"

"Have. You. Told. Her. Josh."

Josh looked at his feet and exhaled loudly. "No. I only realized it myself a couple of nights ago. And there's...a lot to think about. Our jobs, first of all, how it reflects on the President. She's just been through this thing, and I'm not sure she's really at a place where she can...not to mention I'm not even sure that she'd feel the same way if she knew."
 
"You're not even sure...OK, you know what, I'm not even gonna go down that road right now," Stanley stopped himself. "First, congratulations on the enormous breakthrough. Second, get it together."
 
"How the hell did you even know—"

"I'm just that good, Josh. I'm just that good." It was a joke, one Josh didn't pick up on.

"I don't know when...or even if I'm going to tell her. There's still a lot to consider. But I KNOW I shouldn't do it right now, while she's trying to handle this. It wouldn't be right. For all I know it may never be right."

Stanley gave Josh an appraising look. Change truly does come in excruciatingly small increments. "Which brings us to your real 'issue.'"

"We're in this situation where...she's staying at my apartment, she's crying in my arms, she's sharing big emotional revelations with me, and she looks so fragile, sometimes, Stanley, and broken, and there are moments when it's all I can do not to tell her," he breathed out. "I don't want to take advantage of the situation."
 
"Are you saying you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off of her eventually?" Stanley asked evenly.

"No, Stanley, God, that's not what I'm saying. I just...these things are at a whole new level for me now. It almost feels like I'm lying to her by not telling her. And thus my mental state continues to deteriorate. I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Well, she needs to get back to her apartment as soon as she can, and that's got nothing to do with your new little revelation, that's got to do with her own healing process, and I'll be talking to her about that," Stanley said. "As for the rest of it, what you're trying to say is that you're in love. That feeling that the world's gone mad and you're half-nuts? That's what it feels like to be in love, Josh. Congratulations."

"Thanks. I'm, you know, going to Disneyland."

"Nope. You're just gonna drive yourself stark raving mad before you come the rest of the way to your senses. But that'll be fun, too. For me at least," Stanley said.
 
*************

Josh got back from his meeting and he and Donna both worked another couple of hours. Things had gone fine that morning before work. They'd almost fallen into a routine already. Josh enjoyed it...too much, he knew. Once the memorial service was over, things could start to go back to normal. He would have to take that opportunity to distance himself. Everything was just too close right now. He'd feel more at ease once they put some of the old distance back between them.

Donna had done great that day. He supposed being back at work truly did help. But as the time drew closer for the memorial, he could see the dread increase within her. She'd only picked at her lunch, admitting to him privately that she'd rather not have too much on her stomach for the service.

Sam had asked Donna that morning if she minded if he came along to pay his respects. He showed up in the bullpen just as Donna was wrapping up a phone call. "Josh," she said as she hung up.

"It's time?" Josh said as he came around his desk, still reading the briefing memo in his hand.

"Yeah," Donna replied.

The three of them left the White House together, but barely spoke a word to each other.

**************

Donna had been to Arlington National Cemetery a number of times. She'd come to visit the Eternal Flame and President Kennedy's grave, the Tomb of the Unknowns, and once in the year after the accident to pay respects to Mrs. Landingham. This was the first time she'd ever attended an actual graveside service there.
 
The day had been especially gray, even for the middle of winter. Donna thought it was fitting. A substantial crowd came to the graveside since this was the portion of the rites that had been reserved for the public. They gathered silently at the site. Donna tried not to look at the empty hole in the ground.
 
Police dress uniforms outnumbered the mourners in street clothes, but Fred's family had chosen Army honors for the service. The family was seated before the casket team removed the casket.

Donna had been concentrating on the hearse, trying to prepare herself to...well, to see Fred again. Her mouth was dry and her knees were weak. But this needed to be done. She stood on the far side of the gathering, away from the hearse, several rows back. Josh was standing to her left, so close their arms touched. Sam stood immediately behind them.

She glanced over as she heard car doors opening to see the family being helped out of the limo. A man in his late 30s turned back toward the limo and offered his hand to a diminutive white-haired lady. She stepped slowly out of the car, oblivious to the world around her. Tears balanced precariously on Donna's lower eyelids. This was Mae. 

 
She thought it was the saddest image she'd ever seen. This devastated woman hobbling along on the arm of her grown son. Donna was so absorbed in the moment that she startled when a little boy stepped out of the crowd that had emerged from the limo and wound behind the widow, silently reaching up and grasping her free hand.
 
"Grandchildren are more fun than living in a cramped little motor home. Telling your 6-year-old grandson about walking a beat is way more fun than walking the Hollywood Walk of Fame."

Donna gasped audibly. Both Sam and Josh looked at her. "You OK?" Josh whispered. Donna didn't answer immediately, just continued to stare at the little boy, holding tightly to the hand of his grandmother and looking at her face and around him with confusion. Mae held his hand, but didn't really seem to realize she was doing it. He'll barely remember this, Donna thought. He'll barely remember his grandfather, who loved him so that he told a total stranger about him in the middle of a bank robbery.
 
"Donna," Josh whispered again.

She moved her hand just a little, which allowed their palms to touch. She squeezed his hand softly and Josh could feel it was shaking a little. "His grandson," she whispered quietly as the first tear fell. "He told me about his grandson."
 
Josh looked at the little boy and his heart broke for him. It was obvious he didn't really understand what was going on. He couldn't have been more than 5 or 6. But he knew that whatever was happening, it wasn't good.

Josh ran his thumb along the side of Donna's in silent commiseration and an attempt to offer comfort.

Uniformed Army officers removed the casket from the hearse and brought it to the burial site with well-practiced precision. Donna stared at the flag-draped box that contained the body of a man she felt she owed her life to. He deserved so much better.
 
A police chaplain performed the service. The whole service was a mix of Fred's past lives...military, police, civilian.

Josh's thoughts drifted to his own grandfather as he watched Fred's grandson during the service. He'd died before Josh's twelfth birthday, and he still revered the man. He'd wondered from time to time if he would have felt quite the same way if his grandfather had still been alive as he'd grown up, as he'd gone through this teens and into adulthood. Were his feelings about his grandfather the result of still seeing him through the eyes of a child? This boy's grandfather would be more the stuff of legend to him than fact. The war hero, the career police officer. The man who died protecting innocents in a bank robbery. Would he want to be a police officer, too? Would he learn the truth as he grew older...that his grandfather was taken from him early for no good reason? That his death was senseless and tragic and completely avoidable? Would he learn those truths and turn bitter toward the world?
 
A stifled sob from Donna pulled him out of his reverie. He tugged on her hand almost imperceptibly, and she squeezed back, indicating that she was alright. Sam's hand went to her back and stayed there.
 
Josh looked at Fred's family again. They all seemed to be in a trance, in varying stages of shock and disbelief. Why did society do this to the bereaved? Rather than giving them some time to process what's happened, they've got to throw what amounts to a party at one of the family's homes and be prepared to visit with everyone they've ever met and a few people they haven't. They've just lost someone they cared about and they've got to mix and mingle. Jewish custom dictates the body be buried before the next sundown if at all possible. That's still a lot to take care of, but Josh didn't know how some families handled trucking the remains of their loved ones all across creation for the various ceremonies.

He looked at Donna again. A slow but steady stream of tears had been flowing for a little while now, but she was mostly quiet. His thoughts drifted back to the emergency room Friday night. As intense and worrisome as the moment had been, it had been one of the biggest moments of relief of his life to see her again. He had been lucky, he recognized. He imagined Fred's family had waited for word, too. Only when word came, it wasn't good. They didn't get a reunion.
 
He cast his eyes back toward the family and remembered what he'd said to Stanley that morning, that this could have easily been Donna's memorial if things had gone differently. He shook his head a little. He just couldn't imagine how he'd ever deal with that. Part of him wondered if these new feelings for Donna were part of an overdeveloped sense of gratitude...some kind of euphoria resulting from the close call. His head was too heavy with thoughts these days. He wondered if the feelings he had would fade with time. That would certainly make things simpler, to return things to the status quo.

Donna's thumb rubbed his index finger a little and it made him feel warm, despite the biting cold. He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the status quo.
 
The chaplain stopped speaking and Sam leaned forward and whispered quietly. "They're gonna do a gun salute."

Donna looked at Josh and found he was looking back at her with the same concern. Neither of them had even thought about it, and now each was worried for the other.

"There'll be three rounds," Sam whispered as he nodded toward the firing party a short distance away. "Seven guns, three rounds fired each."
 
Gunfire had never been one of Josh's triggers, even during the worst of it. He didn't exactly enjoy it, but it had never been one of the things that set him off. But just days after Donna was in the middle of an exchange of gunfire, he wasn't sure how she was going to react. He also found it ironic. Fred Garfield was shot in the chest, and they honor him at his burial with a 21-gun salute.
 
Most of the attendees who weren't in uniform flinched a little at the first shot, including Josh, Sam and Donna. Everyone took the second shot more in stride, though Josh still felt Donna flinch and heard her breathing become more shallow. He squeezed her hand firmly and she squeezed back until it hurt. She jerked again at the third shot, but as the bugler began "Taps," he felt her breathing slow and her grip loosen. The flag was folded and presented to Mae, who teared up for the first time during the service at the officer's words of sympathy. The family left, followed by the rest of the attendees, leaving one soldier behind at the casket to stand vigil until the burial was complete, as was tradition. 

The three of them walked back toward the car in silence for a moment. Donna wiped her tears but hadn't said much. She'd taken an extra beat or two at the casket, and seemed lost in thought afterward.

"That was...I thought that was a very nice service," Sam said finally.

"Yeah," Josh answered. He looked to Donna. "Are you glad you came?"

She nodded. "I'm glad I came," she turned around to look at both men. She glanced back at the burial site. "And I hope Fred wouldn't mind me saying I'm glad it's over. But even more than that I'm glad the two of you came."
 
"We wanted to," Sam said simply.

Donna smiled sweetly. "I know. I'm just saying I'm glad you wanted to."

"Donna?"

Donna whirled around to see a face she hadn't even thought about bumping into here. "Patti."

"I thought that was you," Patti said, taking a few steps closer. She looked a lot different than Donna remembered. Calmer. More confident. More human. A man hovered about 15 feet behind her silently. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Donna answered automatically, then forced herself to amend the statement. "I'm OK. How are you?"

"The same," Patti said in a tone that communicated an unspoken understanding of what Donna was going through. "It was so sweet of you to come."
 
"I...thought I should," was all she could come up with.

Patti nodded. "He was something, wasn't he?"

Donna nodded with a little smile.

"This is my husband, Rick," she said, turning behind her. The tall, lanky man took a few steps closer.

"Nice to meet you," he said softly.

"You, too," Donna said. Patti's eyes finally drifted to Donna's companions, who themselves had tried to maintain a respectful distance and look nonchalant.

"I'm sorry," Donna said turning and reaching blindly toward her friends. "This is--"

"Josh Lyman," Josh shook Rick's hand.

"Sam Seaborn," Sam followed suit.

"Patti was...Patti works at the bank," Donna said by way of explanation.

Sam remembered the name from Donna's statement. This was the teller the ringleader had threatened. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing OK, thank you," Patti said graciously. "Actually, speaking of working at the bank, I brought something with me in case I saw you today."

"Really?" Donna asked, perplexed, as Patti opened her purse and drew out a small envelope.

"I'm taking a few days off," Patti said. "The branch is closed today anyway, but I'm probably going to take the week. But I had a little bit of unfinished business I wanted to take care of." She handed Donna the envelope.

It was barely the size of Donna's palm. She opened the flap and upended the envelope. Her bank card spilled into her hand. She looked at Patti. "You didn't have to...you could've just mailed it to me."
 
Patti got a funny look on her face, followed by a self-deprecating smile. "I could have. But I provide damn fine customer service, Donna, and I'm proud of it."

The significance of the remark wasn't lost on Donna. Patti had retained at least part of what Bernard had said to her that night. And she needed to do something to prove him wrong. She needed it just like Donna needed to give her statement, needed to attend the service.
 
She looked at Patti for another moment, then broke into a grin. The two found themselves giggling, then all-out laughing. The few straggling mourners making their way back to their cars turned their heads. The three men accompanying the women exchanged confused looks. Patti reached out and gave Donna a tentative little hug. "Your shoulder's doing OK?"

"Yeah, it's doing fine."

"OK. Come by and see me sometime," Patti pulled away and turned back toward Rick.

"Bye," Donna said. She turned back to the guys, only to hear her name called again.

"Donna?"

She spun again, but her guard was down this time. And she wasn't in the right mindset to deal with who was talking to her.

"Donna, can you tell me why you came to the service today?" Donna knew the face, but she couldn't remember the name. He was a columnist, not part of the regular press corps. What he wrote was mostly fluff for the lifestyle section, but his column bordered on being irresponsible gossip.
 
"I..."

"Can you tell me how you're feeling after the incident?"
 
Sam was between the two of them before Donna could utter another word. "She's not answering any questions, Stu."
 
"This is a public place, Sam. My readers want to know how she's doing, they have a genuine interest. I just want to tell them if she's doing alright, how she's feeling, I'm not the bad guy here."
 
"First of all, don't say `public place,' like it's a shopping mall. It's somebody's funeral, Stu. This is a cemetery, for God's sake. You wanna show a little respect? Secondly, it was made very clear that Donna doesn't wish to talk to press right now," Sam said. Josh had pulled Donna behind him a little and had assumed battle posture.

"That was never told to me," Stu said as he pulled his notebook out of his coat.

"Hey, guess why? Because you're not in the White House Press Corps. You're a gossip columnist, Stu. You write the filler between sale ads, regardless of what you may tell women when you're trying to pick them up at Moomba," Sam said.

Stu changed tactics. "Josh, did you attend the service today as an official representative of the administration?"

Sam stepped further in front of him before Josh could answer. "Go back to your office and live in fear that I will tell CJ what you tried to do today."

Stu tried to hide his flinch unsuccessfully. "CJ likes me fine, Sam. She even called me when I began writing the column last year—"

"She doesn't like you as much as she likes me, Stu. She sure as hell doesn't like you as much as she likes Donna. If I were you I'd crawl back under your rock for a while if you want to avoid her wrath. Donna's not answering any questions right now." Sam stared, unblinking, until Stu finally turned away.

He waited until Stu was down the path before he turned back to a flabbergasted Donna and a seething Josh.

"CJ must be losing her touch if he would have that kind of gall," Josh said.

"It's not that CJ's losing her touch, it's that Stu Winkle has long since lost touch with reality," Sam said. "He's gonna catch it from everyone who works at The Post ten times worse than he'll catch it from CJ."

"Why?" Donna asked.

"Because no one in the Press Corps wants to piss off CJ. And if Stu, acting on behalf of The Post, does so, it puts all their reporters in the room in a position to have to kiss her ass for a little while," Sam said, unable to hide a little smile. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Donna said, sounding astounded. "Post readers have a genuine interest in how I'm doing? They want to know how I'm doing after...'the incident'?"

"Nobody has a genuine interest in how you're doing except Stu Winkle, because it will get his byline moved off the Mini Page," Josh said. It was meant as an insult to the reporter, but had obviously come out completely wrong.

Donna turned to stare Josh down. "Oh God," Sam muttered under his breath.

"Nobody has a genuine interest in how I'm doing?" she challenged.

Josh gulped. Why the hell do I even open my mouth? "Donna, I didn't mean...Lots of people have a genuine interest in how you're doing...myself, more than anyone," he added, going for kiss-ass points. "What I mean is, the press...Stu is just—everyone who knows you has a genuine interest in how you're doing, Donna."

This was too much fun. "Everyone who knows me?"
 
"Everyone who's ever MET you," Josh said. "They all have a genuine interest. But none more than me." Couldn't hurt to go for kiss-ass twice in a row.

Sam couldn't resist getting in on the action. "And what about the people who don't know her, Josh?"
 
Josh looked at his friend. I let you off the hook with the statement thing last night, you traitorous bastard. "The people who don't know you care with a degree of fervor that they didn't think possible for someone they've never met."

"And why is that?" Donna asked.

"Because you're very popular, Donna. And the media coverage you've received since Friday has only served to...skyrocket your popularity." She wasn't mad. She was just going to make him pay for it a little.

"And I am...?" Donna said with a little smile.

"Adored by millions," Josh said. "Again, none more than myself, who appreciates how capable and talented and well you—"

"Stop now," Sam said.
 
Donna smiled. "What can I say? People love me. Let's go." They started back toward the car. Before getting in the door Josh held open for her, she cast one last look back to the coffin and the lone soldier keeping watch. She silently thanked Fred and said goodbye. "And I guess that part's over," she said more to herself than Josh as she got in the car.