I Never Left

Completed: 2/5/05

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Josh refuses to take the blame for everthing.

Author’s notes: Post-ep for King Corn

Donna:

I’m very tired, and there’s a hollow spot in my chest, so you’ll have to excuse me if this doesn’t make much sense. But I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to be able to find a way to sleep again.

I know you want to blame me for all of this. I can see it in your eyes. When you’ll even look at me. And I’ll take blame. In fact, I’ll take more than you. But I won’t take it all. You did this too.

You think I held you back. You forget that there was a time I held you up. You think I didn’t appreciate you. You forget I’m the one who gave you a chance. You think I took you for granted. You choose not to acknowledge that I kept you where I did because I was well aware of your worth. You think I was afraid of what we could be, but when we were so close to being allowed to explore that, you’re the one who left. I never left you. Never.

You think that I think you left me, and you tell yourself over and over that you left the job. But that’s not true and we both know it. You left me. And as hard as it was over the years, as angry as I got at times, as hurt as I felt, I never left you. Never. But you did. You left me. I thought you were the one person who wouldn’t, and you did. And it hurts, more than I ever thought possible, and no, I won’t take the blame for that.

Because you knew. You knew how hard it was for me to give my heart to you and still you took it willingly. And I know we never said any words, but you know you have it and you just left with it. Yes I should’ve talked to you and no I shouldn’t have cancelled lunch with you over and over, I’ll take the blame for that. But you stay. That’s what you do when you have someone’s heart. You think of them first. And I know you don’t think I thought of you first, but I did. If I’d only been thinking of me, we would’ve been together years ago. You think my love for you has boundaries, but I’ve risked for you and I’ve sacrificed for you. I’ve sacrificed you for you. For the career you were building and the confidence you were finding. As badly as I wanted to… to touch you, hold you, make love to you, I never did. Not once. You think it was because of me, of my career, of the administration, but you’re wrong. You needed to find yourself. You didn’t need the complication. You were lost when you came to me. And I helped you find yourself, and when you did, you left me. And now I’m lost.

So yes, I treated you badly at times and I’ll take the blame for that. But I never left with your heart. Never.

And I never left you wondering. You knew how I felt. I think you’ve known for years, but you had to know after Germany. You had to. And I thought I knew too, but now you’ve left me wondering. Why would you do that? Why? You want me to believe you left the job, but you took my heart and you don’t talk to me and you seem to think I’ve done something wrong, but I never left. Never.

I acknowledge that things were weird after Germany. And that part of it was my fault. But you were mean to me. You said horrible things to me, and I didn’t know what to do or how to respond to that. Your usual quips dug deeper and turned cruel, and I didn’t know why. And I’ll even take the blame for that. I’ve been where you were and I should’ve recognized that, but you weren’t mean to anyone else, just me. Just me. And I couldn’t do anything right, so eventually I stayed back. But even then, I never left.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I cancelled lunch on you and that I disappointed you. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize that being with me everyday wasn’t enough for you anymore, and I’m sorry that being with me everyday wasn’t enough for you anymore. That’s what I’m most sorry about.

But don’t say you left the job. Because we weren’t boss and assistant and you know that. Our lives interweaved into the job; we were everything to each other there that we couldn’t be elsewhere. And we weren’t always great at it, but we stayed and worked on it. Maybe it wasn’t healthy to work together and try to deny what we felt. But we both did that. Not just me. We both made that decision. Separately, together without words, I don’t know. But I do know that we both chose that.

Maybe if you’d said ‘why don’t I quit so we can be together.’ I couldn’t ask you to. Not after I gave you the job and the chance and you proved yourself so wonderfully. Not after I gave you the opportunity to find yourself there. That had to be you. And there were times I hoped you would. As much as I loved having you as an assistant, there were times I wanted to beg you to quit so we could be together. But in the end, that’s not why you left the job, and that’s what hurts more than anything. That you chose to leave and still not be with me.

Maybe I should have said ‘please don’t leave me. Please stay in this job you don’t love anymore so you can stay with me.’ I was in a job I didn’t love anymore so I could stay with you. Maybe I should’ve said that. Maybe I should’ve said ‘we only have 13 months. We can do this for 13 more months and then we can be together.’ Maybe I should’ve taken your hand and marched into CJ’s office and told her we’d had enough. Maybe it would’ve helped.

I miss you, and I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry that you don’t smile when you see me, because I really miss your smile. And I’m sorry that I can’t tell you how excited I am about this guy, and I’m sorry that I’m not as excited about him as I would be if you were here with me. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what I was thinking about doing. That I wanted you to come with me, that I needed you to come with me. And not as my assistant, but as my best friend and my most trusted ally and the smartest woman I know and the woman I love. And I’m sorry that after eight years, I’m telling you that on a piece of paper that I’m going to slip underneath your hotel room door because I’ve tried to knock on it for the last two nights and I can’t figure out how to.

We have to get past this, Donna. Life without you is no life. That’s why I never left.

Josh