Title: Like a Book
Author: juxtaposed
Rating: G
Category: Vignette, Fluff
Pairing: Josh/Donna
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Aaron Sorkin, NBC and The West Wing, and are used without permission, without intent to profit.
Archiving: Yes, just let me know. You can find this and my other works online at www.geocities.com/juxtaposed666
Notes: A small piece of fluff. Second in the maybe-to-be-continued “Small Details” series.
Feedback: Appreciated at juxtaposed666
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He tightens his hold on her hand as he studies her face. She looks peaceful, her eyes closed, breathing deep and even.
Her eyes are her most beautiful feature, a deep blue flecked with green. Long lashes any woman would give a year’s salary for. They fill her face, dominate all her other features. Their hugeness gives her an appearance of constant, wide-eyed innocence. Bambiesque, she was once called.
She was young, and some thought naive. But her eyes told a different story. Her eyes spoke of a timeless understanding, of a young woman who learned early that life can throw you a curve ball and a fast ball at the same time, and you either duck, or you swing and hope for the best. But that timelessness also reflected her inherent innocence, her ability to find simple joy in small pleasures.
He remembers the day they met, how wide her eyes were as she tried to convince him of her usefulness, the unabashed gratitude in the blue depths when he let her stay. Her eyes told him the story her words didn’t, that she was one of them, a lost soul looking for a place to belong, something to believe in.
She told him once that she had a good poker face, and he laughed at her, said he, at least, could read her like a book. He traced her cheek with his finger and whispered that her eyes told him all her secrets. She sputtered and protested, then laughed and kissed him and made him agree never to play against her.
When they debated, her eyes flashed fire, held a mischievous glint when she teased him. When she wanted something, she lowered her chin and looked at him through her lashes, and when he kissed her, her eyes became dreamy and unfocused.
He remembers the hurt, the betrayal in her eyes as they fought, the barely restrained tears that made her eyes bluer than anything he’d ever seen. She ran out the door, looked one last time over her shoulder, and her accusing glare pierced him as the door slammed behind her. Her eyes made him chase her, made him want to beg her forgiveness and do anything in his power to see her eyes smile again.
He runs his thumb across her brow, brushes back a strand of hair, careful of the bandage that covers her cheek, and silently begs her to open her eyes.
For the rest of his life, he knows he will never forget opening the door and calling out to her as she ran into the street, will never forget the squeal of the tires, the thud, her scream cut short.
Every time he closes his eyes, he hears the tires and sees her eyes accusing him.
He leans forward, still clutching her hand, and presses his lips lightly to her eyelid, wills them to open. As if in response to his plea, he feels the flutter of her lashes against his mouth and pulls back to look at her.
Her blue eyes blink up at him, and relief, guilt, joy and exhaustion tumble through him in equal measures.
“Hey, Donnatella,” he whispers. “I missed you.” He bends down to kiss her briefly, and his tears fall on her face.
She frowns, blinks, squeezes his hand. “Josh... you okay?”
He smiles lightly at her misplaced concern, looks down into her eyes, sees all that she can’t say now, and is absolved. “You’re looking at me again, sweetheart. I’m fine.”
-FIN-
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