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I never realized before how much I took for granted the easy disclosure policy I had with Josh. Used to be, I could ramble off anything and everything about what was going on in my life. Maybe it was easy because I didn't think he was listening anyway. But now, knowing that he will hear everything I say, I feel the need to tread carefully.

The meeting went on for hours and when Josh and the aide finally emerged from the office, they both looked tired. I suspected the yelling I heard through the door had a lot to do with that. Josh didn't have anything on his schedule for the rest of the day, so we talked for a bit and we agreed to get together at his place at seven.

When I arrive, I use my key to let myself in. This is incredibly presumptuous of me, but when I open the door Josh is standing there with a smile on his face. He's changed his clothes again and this time he's wearing jeans and a white tee shirt. Have I mentioned how great he looks in jeans? Anyway, he takes me into his arms and I know that he's been wanting to do that since he left my apartment this morning.

It all feels so forbidden and so ordained at the same time. He kisses my cheek and then my lips. We kiss until our bodies decide that air is more important.

"Josh," I say. It feels so good to say his name this way -- with a lover's voice.

He sets me away from him, which disappoints me, and he takes my hand, which doesn't. "Are you hungry?" he asks. "I could order something."

"No, I'm fine," I say.

"Donna." He doesn't believe me.

"I ate the rest of the fruit salad earlier, Josh. I'm not hungry."

"What did you mean when you said you hadn't been eating much lately?" Okay, he's decided to get right down to the talking part of the evening. All I want is to be in his arms. In his arms I can forget that we have problems. In his arms, I can conveniently push away the doubts that gnaw at me.

I sigh. "Loss of appetite," I say, clinically. "I've just been so worried lately. That's really all there is to it." But, he knows there's more. During his meeting earlier I carefully plotted what I could and could not tell him. I decide to get it out in the open. "I wasn't just afraid of losing you, Josh. For a while, I was scared of you. You said things...."

"I know," he sadly replies. "You have to know that I had a lot of anger inside of me. You seemed like you were moving on with your life as though nothing had happened. I guess, on some level, that made me angry. I lashed out at you because it was expedient. It relieved the anger, but only for a little while. You have to know, Donna, that I never wanted to hurt you. I just couldn't see beyond myself."

"I know that, Josh. I could see your pain, even though you couldn't. I was afraid to acknowledge it. Afraid to be the one to say you needed help. I thought...I thought I could help you by pretending everything was normal. I thought that if I could pretend everything was normal then it would be." He takes my hand and walks me to the sofa, where he sits me down. He sits on the coffee table in front of me and takes both my hands in his.

"But something changed. Suddenly, you weren't you anymore. What happened?"

"I realized I was making you worse. I don't know if I was dredging it all up or what, but I was so scared because I knew I wasn't giving you what you needed."

"You thought you were making me worse?" he asks, his voice incredulous. "How could you think that?"

"You were so short tempered, Josh. I thought if I could keep from antagonizing you then you would get better."

"So, that's what the 'anticipating my every need' kick was about?"

I nod.

"You have to understand something, Donna. It wasn't you. It was never you. The things that were going on inside of my head went so much deeper than anything you could have done -- or anything you could have fixed."

"After you met with the guy from ATVA, you seemed to be so...shaken. It became very important to make sure I didn't add to your problems."

"How important?"

"Josh--"

"How important, Donna?"

"All important."

He stands, dropping my hands and shoving his own into his pockets. God, please don't let him pull away from me now. He's drawn me out and I need him to see me through this.

"It was the music," he said.

Huh?

"The music? What about the music?"

"It wasn't you, Donna. It was the music. I just didn't know it."

"I don't understand," I say.

"The music sounded like sirens in my head. I couldn't make the sirens stop."

My jaw drops open, and Josh wastes no time noticing this.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Alcohol," I whisper. "Isopropyl alcohol. The smell of Betadine could it, too, but mostly it was alcohol. Sometimes it wasn't even there. Not really. Olfactory hallucinations, I guess. I would smell the alcohol--"

"And you'd be back in the hospital?"

"Yeah," I say. I can't bring myself to tell him that my flashbacks usually resulted in my vomiting. He sits on the couch and takes me in his arms.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because that would have violated rule number five. 'Don't Burden Josh With Your Personal Problems'," I say. He has no response to this. I know he thinks it's stupid, but he also knows that to say so would not make me feel better.

"Someday, you'll have to tell me about the other rules."

When he says this, I find that my eyes are stinging. His words are immensely important for one simple reason. He doesn't expect me to tell him everything at once. Somehow, he knows that it's safer for me to release the pain in short bursts rather than one big explosion.

"I'm not ready to tell you everything, Josh," I whisper into his chest.

"I'll be here when you are." His arms hold me tightly to him.

I smile, because I'm sure he will hold to his promise. "Does music still make you hear the sirens?"

"I'm getting better," he replies. "It doesn't catch me off guard anymore."

I tilt my head to look up at him and he's smiling gently down at me. He places a loving kiss on my forehead and then another on my lips. He's hanging on to me, just like he promised he would. He holds me so tight I know he won't let me fall.

I nuzzle the side of his neck, inhaling the lingering scent of his aftershave. I know that this smell will forever remind me of how we unburdened ourselves.

I can live with that.

The End