It was dark at Arlington as Donna wandered through a field of identical white tombstones. It was eerily quiet, lacking even the sounds of crickets or wind in the trees. It should be freezing, Donna thought, but she was comfortable as she walked along in a breezy white dress and bare feet.

She stopped momentarily in front of the Tomb of the Unknowns, and it took her a moment to realize that the guards who should have been there were missing. That was odd. There should be someone there no matter how late it was. The Tomb of the Unknowns is guarded 'round the clock. She glanced at her wrist, only to realize she wasn't wearing her watch. The cut from the cable tie streaked angrily across her skin. She exhaled. She'd forgotten, for just a moment. The bank. Bernard. Fred. Oh. She turned, squinting in the general direction of Fred's gravesite. With one look back at the Tomb of the Unknowns, she headed off in the general direction of the site she couldn't yet see in the darkness.

CJ was walking toward her, arms wrapped around herself, eyes glued to the ground. As she got closer, Donna could hear her sniffling. "CJ?" 

CJ looked at Donna with a tearstained face. Finally, there was a sad little smile. "Donna Moss," she said weepily. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Are you OK?" Donna asked, confused and concerned.

CJ's tears started again and she bowed her head. "No," she whispered. "I don't see how any of us ever will be." She walked past Donna.

"CJ, wait."

She turned around, but continued taking backward steps away from Donna. "I just...I just can't be here anymore, Donna, I'm sorry." She turned back around with a little sob and walked into the darkness.

What...was that? Donna wondered. She felt torn. She wanted to go after CJ, make her talk about why she was upset, but she felt drawn toward the gravesite, even though she told herself she'd already said her goodbyes to Fred. She resolved to go after CJ as soon as she had the chance, but for now...there had to be a reason she came out here, even though she couldn't remember why at the moment.

A few seconds later, she came upon Toby, who had leaned against a tombstone, picking intently at the label of the beer bottle he held in his hand.

"Toby?"

He glanced up at her, but soon went back to his task.

She took a few steps closer. "Toby? WHAT are you doing?"

Toby looked past her a little, propping the bottle on his thigh as he exhaled heavily through his nose.

"These things have a way of working against you if you take them for granted," he said lowly, evenly. "I've watched you take it for granted for...I don't know how long now. Years."

Donna took another step forward. The grass was idyllically soft beneath her feet. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought we understood each other," he said, motioning between them with the neck of the beer bottle. "I thought we shared a meeting of the minds on tempting fate. Yet there you went, flying in the face of everything you knew to be prudent. I said you shouldn't act like it's a sure thing you're gonna get what's coming to you." His voice was rising just a little. He settled back on the tombstone. "Well," he said in his original low tone. "It's never going to happen now, is it, Donna?"

"Toby, WHAT—"

"You wanna turn left right past that tree," he said, his face daring her to challenge him with another word.

Unsettled by the encounter, Donna circled around him, keeping her face to him until she was past him, then turning her back and continuing in the direction he indicated.

"It felt safe because you thought it was over," Toby called after her. "But it isn't over, Donna. It isn't even close to being over. Maybe I put too much faith in you."

She turned back at that, something igniting in her at the words. "You didn't plan this out very well," he said, matter-of-factly. With that, he pivoted on the tombstone and began picking at his bottle label again.

Donna stared at his back for a moment, before deciding that it wouldn't be wise to continue the conversation. With a wary glance back, she headed away, turning left at the tree he indicated, even though she wasn't sure why.

She kept looking back every once in a while. Toby's figure got smaller and smaller as she went. She continued a moment or two after she'd lost sight of him before she came upon the gravesite. The vigil still stood watch, unmoving. She began to approach the gravesite slowly. The coffin must have already been lowered, but she could see the hole had not been filled yet.

She approached the hole and looked down. Why had this not been finished?

She hadn't even seen the honor guard until they fired off the first round. She jumped. She put her fingers in her ears and closed her eyes for the other two rounds. Her ears were ringing and the air smelled of gunpowder.

She felt a warm and comfortable pressure on her hand and breathed easy. About time he showed up. She looked to her left, expecting to see Josh.

Sam's devastated face stared down into the hole beside her. She looked around. Josh was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm so sorry, Donna," Sam whispered, barely audible. He never moved his eyes. Never once. Donna finally followed his gaze to the stone at the head of the grave.

JOSHUA LYMAN

OCTOBER 10, 1959-FEBRUARY 6, 2004

She started backpedaling, shaking her head, willing it not to be true.

"Donna," Sam started. "Donna, don't, not here."

Her steps faltered and Sam's arms went around her. "Donna, come on," he said softly.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked, eyes full of tears. This didn't make any sense.

Sam just looked at her.

"Sam? Where's Josh?"

She couldn't quite read his expression. "Donna...Donna, you remember. He..."

"Donna."

She spun to see Toby standing behind her. But something was different. They weren't at Arlington anymore. They were inside…in the bank lobby.

"Josh was hit."

"What?" All of a sudden her shoulder was killing her.

"He was shot…in the chest." Toby cast his eyes over Donna's shoulder. She turned and saw he was looking toward the area by the wall where she and Fred had spent their entire, well, relationship. She furrowed her brow and headed in that direction.

She knew what she should find and as she got closer, and at first it did indeed appear to be what she expected. A prone figure lay unmoving as people bustled about, removing the weapon that the strong one had dropped, bringing in gurneys for the fallen.

She was just beginning to wonder briefly where "her" S.W.A.T. officer, Jackson, was. He'd been there the first time. But something was different. As she got closer she could see something was different. Fred's hair was white, not the auburn she saw from this distance. He was mostly obscured by other people, but there was something familiar about the slope of his shoulder, the bend of his elbow, the lines of his hand…

Oh, God. No. No. No.

"Josh?" her voice was a squeak in her own ear. "JOSH?"

It felt like hours before she could make her way to his side. No, no, no, no, no. "Josh? Josh!" His bloodied hands were clamped over a spot on his chest. The blood stood out in stark contrast to his blue shirt. His face was pale and he wasn't moving. At all.

Her hands fluttered over his, unsure of whether she should move them and apply pressure herself or whether that might make things worse. Wake him up, she thought to herself. Let him tell you what he needs.

She put her hands on either side of his face. "Josh. Josh, open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me for a second." The skin beneath her fingers was cold. Clammy. Past the point of panic, she moved her hands to his shoulders and shook, gently at first, then harder. "Josh! Come on, please, Josh. Please don't do this. Please…" she trailed off into sobs. She tried to feel for a pulse, but her own heart was pounding too hard for her to feel anything else. She laid her head down on his chest and listened. And listened. And listened. "Josh, please…" she said, not moving.

Finally, a hand on her arm. "Miss, they're going to take care of him now. We're going to have to move so they can take care of him now." Jackson. Jackson was here now. He wanted to take her away. But she couldn't leave Josh.

Her head was still on his chest, and she grabbed tight to the material of his shirt, anchoring herself to him, refusing to let Jackson take her away. Josh was gone. And all she could feel was a pain more excruciating than she could have ever conceived.

Her entire world was being swallowed by the sadness, the emptiness, the heartache. Whimpers became sobs, which became wails as the moments went on. She kept expecting it to end, expecting the world to stop spinning without Josh Lyman in it. But after each second came another, until just the moment itself became her own personal hell.

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

Josh laid awake for hours analyzing the events of the day. He wasn't really sure who started the kiss. He'd been a full and willing participant, but so had she. The timing was just terrible, not only on his part but on Toby, Sam and CJ's. If they could have said the things they needed to say right after, maybe he could have walked it back before she got hurt, then angry. Maybe he could have apologized and she would have said forget it. Now, he couldn't help feeling like he'd blown...maybe everything, with Donna.

At the very least, he'd caused her more grief when that was the last thing she'd needed.

Not to mention the fact that he couldn't forget it. That simple, heartfelt kiss had been, frankly, amazing. And, despite the crash and burn afterward, it wasn't at all awkward or stilted during. He didn't know how he was going to ignore all that, but he would find a way, for her.

He found it more difficult than he would have liked getting to sleep without her there...even though he didn't feel obligated to hug the edge of the mattress this way. He eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The ringing phone jolted him out of his slumber.

"Yeah," he said groggily into the receiver.

"Josh." It was CJ.

He was sitting straight up and wide awake in an instant. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know. Some kind of dream. I can't get her calmed down." The question was implied.

"I'm on my way," he said, feet already on the floor.