Rewrite the Stars [The West Wing] ↠ Josh Lyman

1 | Nashua

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Nashua

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White House Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman paced the space in front of his desk for the thousandth time that morning. It seemed like his West Wing office had suddenly gotten a lot smaller in the last few days. He couldn't bring himself to focus on his job, a very important job too. His thoughts were preoccupied. He ran his fingers through his hair. How the hell had this happened? How had he allowed this to happen? Hadn't he given himself one rule to abide by since the campaign? Under absolutely no circumstances was he to fall for the president's daughter. One rule. One. And he had screwed the pooch on that one.

Emily Bartlet, second daughter of President Josiah Bartlet, his boss, had somehow managed to make him completely disregard his only rule and throw caution to the wind. To make matters worse, he just couldn't bring himself to stop thinking about her. Her eyes. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she looked at him. To say that he was infatuated would have been an understatement. He felt like a teenage girl in love for the first time--of which he was neither. He was a grown man, but these strong feelings for her were completely new territory for him to trek. He had had girlfriends before...several actually, but now looking back on things, the feelings he had for any of them paled in comparison to his feelings now. There was just something about Emily Bartlet.

Josh glanced at one of the pictures on his wall and smiled fondly. It was a newspaper clipping titled Joshua Lyman to Join Bartlet for America the accompanying picture had been taken in Nashua, New Hampshire after a speech given at the VFW. It was a picture of him seated at a table with Emily, then Candidate Bartlet and Leo behind them. Josh smiled. Not only was that the night he had decided to join the campaign, but it was the night he had his first encounter with Emily. A life-changing encounter at that.

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13 weeks before the 

1998 New Hampshire Primary

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The fallen leaves rustled and danced in the bitter wind that swept through the darkness as a twenty-something woman crossed the streets of Nashua. Her shadow cast against the street from the shine of the street light. She tucked her curly dishwater-blonde hair behind her ear before shoving her hands in her jeans pockets and burying her nose below the collar of her dark blue Yale sweatshirt. She should have remembered to wear a jacket, but apparently, she had forgotten how chilly New Hampshire could be at this time of the year. Having grown up just down the road in Manchester, she really should have known better.