Title: Ring
Author: coffeeplease
Rating: TEEN (drug references)
Category: pre, pre- ep and post, post-ep for "Tomorrow"
Spoiler Info: Everything up to "Tomorrow"
Disclaimer: WB, NBC, John Wells, Aaron Sorkin.... owners. I just lease
and try not to stain the carpet. Lawsuits don't look good on me.
E-mail address for feedback: jamhandy1@yahoo.com
Archiving permission: Sure, just tell me first
Notes: The last one. Let me know what you think.



The smell of medicine hit as soon as he entered the room, pungent. It
smelled like a cough drop had exploded. No matter how the medical
field advanced, they couldn't get rid of the smell.

Or the wires and tubes coming out of her, into her, taped to her arm
and poked into her nose. The skin on both her arms hung loose and
wrinkled; big black bruises dotted what was almost sheer white.
Translucent, even.

The smell made him nauseous, the sight even more so. He wanted to go
home, to Harvard and his friends and his girlfriend, but his mother
had made him come here. Only a few days left, she had said. Time was
running out.

He pulled up a chair to his grandmother's bedside. "Hello, Josh," she
croaked without opening her eyes.

"Hello, grandmother."

She opened her eyes. "I'm down to 84 pounds."

He couldn't think of anything to say. "Good for you."

She grimaced slightly. "You've got a smart mouth on you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You better watch it. That mouth'll get you in trouble."

"I'm sorry, grandmother."

She sighed a sigh of impatience. "Got that smart mouth from your
grandfather, who gave it to your father."

He was used to the lectures, used to the reprimand. He squirmed in his
chair. "Well, let's hope I didn't get the hairline."

He couldn't help his smart mouth, even around his dying grandmother.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Your grandfather was a very handsome
man. Turned a lot of women's heads."

All he could remember from his grandfather was a cane and a bald head.
Nevertheless, he nodded. He didn't know if she could see him; her eyes
were bad.

She sighed heavily again. "I have something to give you, Josh."

Slowly, she reached over with one hand to her ring finger. Her wedding
ring. One hand tried to move it off her finger, but she was too weak.
He watched her, impassive, still too young to be impressed by the
gesture.

Finally, she whispered, "Help me please."

He helped her take the ring of the finger and she placed it in the
palm of his hand. She closed her wizened fingers around his. The cold
of her bones chilled him.

"Give it to the one, Josh. Not the one you have today, maybe not even
the one you have tomorrow, but the one."

He was a cynic. He always thought he was a cynic. But he couldn't help
but feel... cold all of a sudden. The weight of it in his hand, the
one lone diamond that wasn't too impressive. The ring didn't shine. It
probably wasn't worth a whole lot.

But it was his to give to the one. Whomever she was, out there...

"Your grandfather gave me that ring, Josh." His grandmother continued.
"And we were happy. I was going to give it to Joanie..."

Josh swallowed hard.

"But I can't..." His grandmother stopped for a moment. When she
started speaking again, her voice was like ashes. "It is a terrible
thing to outlive your children, I would think, but outliving your
grandchildren is even worse."

She gave him a strange look and Josh froze. He wished he was far from
this tomb of smells and decay, far from this old woman reminding him
of what he didn't want to be reminded of.

He'd have to smoke a lot of weed when he got home to numb this.

She closed her eyes again. "I love you, Joshua. Be happy. That's the
most important thing. Be happy."

He left with the ring in his hand, turned on his heel and walked away.
Didn't kiss her goodbye or tell her he loved her back. That just
wasn't his style, not then. Not at twenty-one, wanting to go back to
Harvard and his girlfriend with the thick lips and his potato bong. He
gave the ring to his mother for safekeeping. He went to his
grandmother's funeral.


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

The smell of medicine hit as soon as he entered the room, pungent. It
smelled like a cough drop had exploded. No matter how the medical
field advanced, they couldn't get rid of the smell.

Or the wires and tubes coming out of her, into her, taped to her arm
and poked into her nose. The skin on both her arms hung loose and
wrinkled; big black bruises dotted what was almost sheer white.
Translucent, even.

The smell made him nauseous, the sight even more so. He wanted to go
home, to Harvard and his friends and his girlfriend, but his mother
had made him come here. Only a few days left, she had said. Time was
running out.

He pulled up a chair to his grandmother's bedside. "Hello, Josh," she
croaked without opening her eyes.

"Hello, grandmother."

She sat up a bit, as much as she could. "You listened to your mother. You came."

"Yeah."

"Sit down," she warbled and pointed to a chair.

She cracked a small smile. "How's school?"

"Good. I like my professors."

"Your mother tells me you have a girlfriend."

He folded his hands. "I do. Her name is Carly."

She left the smile on her face, blue-green eyes still shining
underneath all that white. "Are things serious with Carly or is it
just as sex-type thing?"

Josh was shocked. "Grandmother!"

"What, you don't think grandmothers have sex? Where do you think you
came from? Or your parents came from? I could tell you stories about
me and your grandfather..."

"But you won't, right?" He said quickly.

Her smile turned into a small smirk. "Got that smart mouth from your
grandfather, who gave it to your father."

"I wasn't being smart."

His grandmother gave him a sharp glance, then a smile. "I can
recognize the Lyman mouth a mile away, Josh." She stopped for a
moment, all joy leaving her face. "Josh... it is strange to say it
again."

"You miss Grandpa." Josh still remembered him from the childhood name.
The gray-haired man with the receding hairline who refused to use a
cane. He let his wife steady him instead.

She looked out the window. "I think I'll be seeing him shortly. I know
that he and Toby are up there, arguing. And that he's looking down on
me."

Josh didn't believe in heaven, nor did he know who 'Toby' was.
Instead, he began tapping his shoe.

His grandmother looked back at him. "Impatient. That, too, from your
grandfather."

She looked at her hand. "I was going to give you my wedding ring,
Josh. I was because your grandfather got it from his grandmother and I
wanted it to stay in the family and not go under six feet of dirt."

He cocked his head at her. "You changed your mind?"

Her head gave the smallest of nods. She pointed to a box on the night
stand. He retrieved it for her, opened it up so she could see. She
looked in and closed her eyes.

"When... when he died, he left this to my husband. And my husband and
I... Josh, there are things that you never could understand. That you
can't understand, even if you read every history book. I was lucky; I
got to understand, I got to see it, I got to be there. I got to be
with your grandfather as he did incredible things. History is full of
great men and women. I know you've read about your grandfather in your
history books. And this man. And the man who wrote this."

She turned the box to him. A napkin, with the words "Bartlet For
America" faded in pen, preserved in a black frame.

Tears were streaming down his grandmother's cheeks. "Some things need
to stay in the family, too."

He was overcome with something. The cold feel of his grandmother's
shriveled hand. The knowledge that soon she'd be next to his
grandfather at Arlington, the ring buried in the ground.

"President Jed Bartlet." He whispered.

His grandmother nodded. They were silent for a moment as his fingers
traced the frame.

Then she cackled. "I would have given you a paperweight, but CJ took
all of those."

Toby Ziegler. CJ Cregg. Now he remembered them, from the history
books. And the man who used his wife as a cane... his wife smiled on
him as she closed her cold hands over his, over the frame.

"You write on your own napkin someday, Josh. When you find the one."

He shook his head. "Grandma," he reverted back to childhood. "I don't
even like politics."

She smiled. "I was talking about a marriage proposal."

He grinned back.

Her smile faded and her voice became a whisper. "But you never can tell."

He took a few steps back from her as her face became forlorn. She
closed her eyes, the machines hummed with her.

"I don't like politics..." he began, his heart pounding. "But I always
thought it was cool what grandpa did. That I had a grandfather in the
history books."

She didn't say anything for a long moment. Long enough for Josh to
contemplate calling a nurse.

Finally, she opened her eyes again. "I love you, Joshua. Be happy.
That's the most important thing. Be happy."

He left with the framed napkin in his hand, turned on his heel and
walked away. Didn't kiss her goodbye or tell her he loved her back.
That just wasn't his style, not then. Not at twenty-one, wanting to go
back to Harvard and his girlfriend. He gave the napkin to his mother
for safekeeping. He went to his grandmother's funeral.