Disclaimers:

Based wholly or partly on characters and situations created by Aaron Sorkin, Thomas Schlamme, John Wells, NBC, Warner Brothers Television Production Inc., and who knows what others. Rated R: An unauthorized work of speculative fiction with adult situations and strong sexual content, graphic language, brief nudity and mature themes. Parental discretion is advised. Do not distribute for profit or without notification. Not to be taken internally. No user serviceable parts inside. Made in the USA. I wouldn't stop for red lights. Strongest fan fiction available without a prescription. May cause dizziness, dry mouth or nausea. Do not read my fanfics while driving, drinking or operating heavy machinery. I'm ReverendKilljoy and I approved this Disclaimer.

Note: AU set some time in Season 5, pre-CODEL trip. Spoilers for Season 1-4+

W.W.

"Donna!"

The yell was clipped, precise, practiced. It was impossible that she could be at her desk and not hear it. It was unlikely anyone beyond the bullpen or the opposite office could hear it over the steady buzz of the staff at work. Josh was good at this, this line. Not as good as Leo- you could place Margaret within a yard by how loud he called for her, like he could see her through the office walls. It was impressive.

"Donn- oh." She was standing in the doorway.

"You didn't answer," Josh accused her. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to watch you shouting." No smile.

"Well then, and this is a radical thought I know, but hear me out: why didn't you answer?" It amazed Josh to think how easy it was to fly off the rails when he talked with her. How had he gotten anything done in the last seven years?

"Civilized people respond to requests, not shouts." She moved into the office but her body language did not relent, she planned on sticking it to him, he could tell.

"Lots of civilized people are looking for work, too." He decided to try working after all. "I need to take a meeting at the OEOB with Kelleher, but not Maize. Maize is always trying to piggyback and I need him out of there."

"Mmm hmmm." She pursed her lips for a moment. He wished she wouldn't do that. Despite C.J.'s assertion that Josh lived in a state of abysmal ignorance as to most of what happened around him, he wasn't stupid. He'd noticed how attractive Donna was, on more than one occasion.

"And…" Oh hell. He got looking at her lips and forgot where this was going. Normally he was a lot better at ignoring the subtext in their relationship and just getting things done.

"Josh? Do you have any clue where you were going with this?" Her eyes were bright. Okay, so maybe he was stupid. "Maize and the OEOB?"

"Right. Right! I need you to get him over to the Hill or something, just make sure he's out of the office when I call on Kelleher, ok? Set it up."

"How? Hire some goons to stuff him in a car trunk while you meet with his boss?" Her sarcasm was always so endearing, probably because she hadn't really done that before they'd worked together for a long time. Nice to know he'd had some influence.

"I imagine the DC police would have some issues with that, but if you think you can swing it…" Josh felt the little tingle under his right eye he always got when he was smiling big. He wondered if the dimple pinched a nerve or something, but it was worth it for the grin. Many a woman had wavered and fallen to the power of the dimply grin.

"I'll set the meeting for 3:30, you have a DNC conference call at 2:00, and Will wanted a few minutes to go over the new polling on the World Court findings."

"That's more like it. I'm going to talk to C.J. for a minute." As Josh passed her in the doorway, he popped her on the hip with the briefing folder in his hand. "Go get 'em, Mugsy."

That was too far. Shouldn't do the touching thing, the casual touching thing. Some people have a line, a line you don't cross. He and Donna didn't have a line like that, they didn't even have a zone, they had, well, whatever they had it shouldn't include smacking her on the hip, even if he didn't use his bare hand.

Okay, wrong thoughts. Wrong thoughts. Good thing he had a country to run and a world to save. It kept him from having time to think, which would most likely be bad. Josh decided it was time to put these thoughts back in the lock box and get back to actually running the country and saving the world.

W.W.

Later that morning, as Josh headed out from the White House, his phone started ringing. With the practiced ease of a gunslinger drawing down, he slid his phone into one hand and moved his backpack to the opposite shoulder with the other.

"Josh Lyman."

"It's me." Donna didn't say who she was. Amy had always said, "It's Amy." Josh thought Amy liked hearing her own name. Mandy, she had just started talking like he should assume no one else would ever call, like he was supposed to jump aboard her train of thought without it ever slowing down at the station. Donna just told him, "It's me," and got to work.

"So what's the plan for Maize? I need Kelleher…"

"Josh." Her voice was heavy, flat. "C.J. needs you in her office. I pushed Kelleher to tomorrow morning, before Maize is back from Treasury."

Josh stood outside the carport, squinting into a fairly clear blue sky. One thing about the view from the White House, there are no planes in the sky. Planes can't fly over or towards the White House, so it makes for the clearest urban skies in the world, not counting smog, fog, rain and frequent snows. So he was standing there when her words literally hit him from a clear blue sky.

"C.J. needs to talk to you right away, Josh." She sounded awful. Josh's heart started racing. It couldn't be the President; it would be Leo calling, or Toby. But if the President was ill or in trouble Leo might be too busy to call…

"It's about Rosslyn."

"I'll be right there." His scar itched on his chest and his mouth went dry. Son of a bitch.

W.W.

"Leo, isn't there something we can do about this?" Jed Bartlet's tone told his oldest friend that he knew the answer already. Still, they were thinking it out, talking it through. It's what they did.

"I don't believe so, Mr. President." Decades of friendship softened Leo's tone somewhat, but there was a protocol, a formality to conversations in the Oval Office. "Her sources tell C.J. that the program is going to have the usual disclaimers. Inspired by actual events, compressed for time, composite characters, whatever."

"I just don't see it. We all saw the documentaries after the shooting. We didn't all watch them, but hasn't this been pretty well played out? Why again, why now?"

"C.J. has some ideas, sir. Do we want to get them out from under the microscope for a few days?"

W.W.

"All the coverage at the time of the shooting was about the President, about Zoey and Charlie, even about the Secret Service." C.J. leaned on her desk, explaining the exciting new 'docudrama' that was coming to the network in sweeps. Josh sat on her visitor's chair, staring at her goldfish and trying to process. Donna was still hanging uncertainly in the doorway, having walked Josh from next door when he'd returned.

"This time," C.J. continued, sounding both insulted and angry, "it's not the news division putting it together, it's their features group."

"Why now?" Josh was trying to stay calm. If you'd known him for less than about five minutes, you might have bought it.

"They have a new slant. It seems that they want to tell the story from a different angle so they're going to use you."

"So what? I got shot. I had a lot of surgery that hurt a lot, and then I came back to work. I can tell you, that's going to make for must-see television. What is this gonna be, the after school special?"

Now for the hardest part, thought C.J.

"Donna, can you step in?" Josh and Donna both looked up, puzzled. Donna jumped, and stepped in. She looked pale. Not her usual alabaster fair, but more an unhealthy pale.

"I didn't mean you, Josh. Apparently," C.J. went on, "the main source for this story is one of the ICU nurses from GW. They're building the story around a character called Diane Mitchell."

"Diane Mitchell… who is…?" Josh figured it out as the words left his mouth.

"The beautiful White House assistant who rushes to the bedside of her critically wounded boss and mentor," C.J. answered. "They're pitching it at the Hallmark crowd."

"I don't understand," Donna said quietly. "Can they, can they do that? Make up some woman who's supposed to be me and put her on TV like that?"

"Basically, yes."

Josh smirked, but there wasn't any joy in it. "Pesky 1st Amendment. So, who's in this thing?"

"Diane Mitchell is Janette Malone. I think she's Canadian. The unnamed senior staffer is played by Bradford Whitley."

"I know him," Donna said with a little bit more emotion in her voice. "He was in that Meg Ryan movie. He's cute."

"Of course he's cute, he's supposed to be me," Josh said. Donna and C.J. both looked at him sharply. "What? Anyway, what kind of name is that? Sounds like a pretentious wannabe to me."

"I have no response to that," said C.J. with an absolutely straight face.

"But, why are they making a movie about me? What's the point?" Donna's mouth was a thin line, and she seemed embarrassed to have to talk about the TV project.

"They think it's romantic. Attractive, sassy assistant sets aside her bantering ways to rush to the side of the boss she idolizes, and by the second act he's back on his feet and sweeping her off of hers. In the third act, they sacrifice their forbidden love to keep their jobs and serve the country and the greater good. Heartbroken, they go on with nothing but resolve and the memory of forbidden love, etcetera, etcetera. I haven't seen a draft yet, but it will be a lot like that."

"That's not how it happened," Josh said. "We're coworkers. We just- "

" -Work well together," Josh and Donna said together, and then exchanged a sour look. Finishing each other's sentences and mirroring each other's body language would not help their cause.

"It's not how it happened?" C.J. shrugged. "Okay. But I can tell you this: by the time Adam Solomon finishes that script, that's how everyone will remember it. He's good at what he does." C.J. checked her watch. "I have a briefing. Take some time to talk about this, and decide how you want me to play it because in the next few days we will be getting questions about this. I am your first call, Josh, got it?"

"Yeah," Josh muttered as C.J. left. He stood, and pushed a hand through the wreck of wild hair at the back of his head. "Like this is a conversation I want to be having."

Donna shook her head. "Everything's not about you, Josh."

"No, I mean…" He considered, but wasn't sure where to take his response. "I'm sorry. I thought rumors about you and me had been pretty much run into the ground over the last few years. And I can't say I'm wild about seeing some guy who's supposed to be me getting, you know…"

"Shot." Her voice was softer, but he was still afraid to look at her.

"I was going to say 'heartbroken.' But yeah, shot, too."

"It didn't happen like that." She sounded like she was trying hard to argue.

"Who are you trying to convince? Me, or yourself? Come on, show some resolve. Plus, you know, the memory of forbidden love, etcetera…" He turned to flash a dimpled grin and saw the look on her face. For a moment, her guard was down, and she spoke from her heart.

"I didn't care. About serving the country, about how it might look. I just wanted you to get well. I knew if anything happened to you I'd be lost. I gave up on a lot of daydreams in exchange for you getting better. It was a fair trade. I'd do it again."

She was talking quickly, trying to get it all out. He couldn't help but remember the Illinois primary, when she'd told him his father had died. She spoke fast, more worried about not saying what needed to be said than about what happened after.

"This thing," she said, staring at her shoes, "this TV movie, it's going to be stupid and embarrassing and I don't care about that. Just promise me: no jokes from you. I've gotten them from everywhere else for years but I need to know you aren't going to be joking to me about this."

"Donna." She wasn't looking at him. She was waiting for him to say something stupid so she could go back to being mad at him, and feeling good about herself when she forgave him later.

"Donnatella Moss." She finally looked up.

"I've never been embarrassed about Rosslyn. I've had trouble with it, and you know that better than anyone, but I finally learned to remember it without reliving it. As for you and me, that's something that I'm never going to talk about here. Here is where we joke, and I get to tease you. Here is we work together and I have to pretend not to care about the gomer parade, or at least pretend to pretend, so everyone says I'm so obvious there can't possibly be anything going on in here." He tapped his chest, right over his heart.

"You told me once if I was in an accident you wouldn't stop for red lights. Do you honestly think I could have forgotten?" Embarrassed by his own honesty, Josh slowed down.

"Nothing changed." She sounded uncertain. "You got better, and we went back to work."

"Everything changed, Donna. The only thing in my life I care about as much as serving the President is having you with me. I figured if whatever we had before would keep you here when I was shot, I better not change it, any of it."

He stood up and realized what he'd said, that he'd just spelled out all the subtext of the last few years. It was liberating, but scary too. He shrugged and jammed his hands in his pockets.

"The one thing that never changes in my life is the way I treat you," he concluded, "because I can't stand the thought of you not being here any more."

"Joshua Lyman that might be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. Get out."

"What?" He was confused, scared, and more than a little hurt. "Donna, I'm not a man generally known for my robust emotional honesty, and I pour my, my heart out to you here…"

"Get out. Please Josh, if you care for me at all, get out. I need to write a letter and I can't do it with you standing here."

"Well, okay." He opened the door, and looked back. "No, not okay. What letter? What the hell are we doing?"

"Well," she said, grabbing a pen and pad from C.J.'s desk, "I figure I better ask to be reassigned from your department if you're going to be asking me out at some point. There are rules."

"So, I'm asking you out some day? Just decide that, did you?" He was grinning, palms sweaty and mind racing but oddly at ease as he adjusted to the idea. "You can hold off on the letter. You don't actually work for me."

"I what?" She looked back up at him, puzzled. "I've been running your life for almost seven years, Josh, and I most certainly know where I work."

"In February, on the campaign, you worked for me," he said, referring to the day she thought of herself as joining Bartlet for America. "But as I recall, you had to barnstorm through Wisconsin for one more stab at working things out with Doctor Freeride."

"For which you plan on making me pay for how long, Josh?"

"For the rest of my life, if there's any justice. Anyway, in February you worked for me. In April you came back, and I put you on the payroll under Toby. Didn't you ever wonder why your badge says 'Communications' on the back?" He grinned. "You work WITH me. Every time I've told you that you work FOR me, I've been waiting for you to correct me."

"Huh."

"Guess I've been too subtle for my own good. I don't know the limit of my superhero-like powers. Fortunately I am bound to use them only for good."

"Get out."

"Jeez, Donna!" He whined to a crescendo, very impressive actually. He was the Yo-Yo Ma of whining. "What now? I was just teasing! It's what we do!"

"If I work for Toby, I've researched all the wrong HR policies on office relationships, not mention lobbying the wrong man for a raise for seven years. I have catching up to do."

"You aren't technically sane. You know that, right? Catch up to me in my office before you go home?" he asked her, backing away as she waved him out.

"Count on it."

"Excellent!" he said as he passed Margaret in the hall. To her bemused look, he raised an eyebrow. "It's a new positive thinking thing I'm doing now."

She wasn't convinced.

W.W.

"Charlie!"

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"Tell Leo I need to speak with him for a minute, then we're going to need Ms. Fiderer for a few minutes after the budget meeting."

"Yes, sir. I'll have Debbie add it to the schedule."

"No, Charlie, we're going to do this over in the Residence. After the budget meeting I'm done till after lunch. Ask Debbie to slip over for a moment before we eat. We'll do calls over there this afternoon."

"Yes, sir."

W.W.

Josh was walking full speed down the corridor, his sleeves rolled up and a briefing binder in his hand. His posture, his expression, everything said, "Stand back! Josh Lyman, DCOS, has a full head of steam going!"

A hand reached out as he passed the mural room and stopped him cold. As he skidded to a halt he spun around to face Leo McGarry.

"Josh. Inside." Leo jerked his chin, indicating that Josh should come in.

"Hey Leo, I was just…" Josh trailed off as he saw Toby and C.J. waiting with Leo inside.

"You were just walking the halls looking busy so you could have time to think without brooding at your desk." Leo closed the door. "This is your third orbit past this doorway in the last five minutes, Josh."

"Oh. So, what's up?" Josh looked back and forth from one senior staffer to another.

"We need to get clear on our position on this NBC thing, Josh," C.J. told him.

"No what, this? It's not a thing." Josh waved it off.

"I've been talking to the President. He has some ideas." Leo looked tired. He looked tired a lot lately. "He wants you to take a few days away from the White House."

"What?" Josh was sputtering. "So, so, they run some fluff piece on Donna and suddenly I'm sent home from school? What's going on?"

"What's going ON, Josh," said Toby suddenly, with the way he had of accenting the last word in each phrase when he got worked up, "is that we are trying to wrap up the transportation bill, and all everyone in the West Wing will be talking about is you and DONNA." He rubbed his fingertips across his scalp. "You're distracted, Donna's work is suffering, and frankly, I think the mood in the bullpen could best be described as giddy. Word is out among the assistants, and they are taking their eyes off the ball."

Josh looked at Toby, eyebrows raised. "Our work is suffering? Come on, the transportation bill is a home run, Toby."

"Can I just say that I love hearing Toby say 'giddy'?" asked C.J.

Leo jumped in. "Focus, people. Josh, we lost Lieber and Clay on transportation. They want another 140 million for Amtrak in central Florida."

"Amtrak? Are you kidding me?" Josh rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Without Lieber and Clay the Southeast contingent falls apart… This is not happening."

"It is happening, Josh." Toby was slouching now against the credenza. "They want to extend the Autotrain service past Orlando, and they want Federal matching funds in this bill to do it."

"So here's what we're going to do. We're sending you down to Florida to meet with them. You'll take a few days, and you'll be conveniently out of the building when the NBC story first breaks. C.J. takes the question, and everyone's bored with the story by the time you get back."

"A few days? No, Leo." Josh wash shaking his head emphatically. "No, I'll fly down, knock some heads and redeye back."

"Not this time. Ritchie's not running for governor again, and it'd be nice to show some love in central Florida after the way we got hammered in the panhandle. The President told Lieber he wanted to give every consideration to his position, and of course to Florida's 27 electoral votes…" Leo started to grin. "You're taking the Autotrain, nothing like a few days riding the rails to give you perspective, and I quote the President, 'on the awesome majesty and splendor that is this great nation.' It'll show we have an open mind. So get your car and pack your bag, you need to be at the station in Lorton, 4PM."

"The President?" Josh hung his head. "The President wants me to take a train ride?"

"He more or less insisted, and we like to indulge him in these little things." Leo put a commiserating arm around Josh's shoulder. "It makes it easier when we need him to run the country. Go. Take the meeting. Say yes. Say no. We don't have skin in this game one way or the other, so we just need you to be there for Lieber, be nice to Clay, and come home after the weekend, preferably with their support or at least their tolerance."

"The weekend? It's Tuesday!"

"Why come back Friday and sit at home?" Toby was grinning a tight and evil grin. "I'm lining up some people in the state committee for you to see, show the flag. No heavy lifting, just some cocktail mixers, maybe a few meetings with the entertainment industry."

"Entertainment?" Josh's spider sense was tingling. Toby shouldn't ever grin. "Where am I staying?"

"Your meetings and the reservations are at the Floridian. I hear it's very nice, and it's on the DNC budget, not White House travel." C.J. was poker faced. Great, she was having way too much fun.

"Floridian. The Grand Floridian. Disney, Leo?" Josh whined, but he saw the warning look on the Chief of Staff's face. "Fine." He hung his head. "I serve at the pleasure of the President."

C.J. was looking at him with utter innocence. "If you can, bring back one of those hats with the little ears. Bet you'd look great in one of those." She lost it and started laughing.

Leo opened the door. "Margaret's getting Donna all the details. We'll soldier on here alone till you make it back."

"This isn't happening to me. The President is sending me to Disneyworld. If this was ever in an episode of Schoolhouse Rock I think I missed that day." Josh slumped off towards his office.

W.W.

"Donna!" He shouted from his office as he looked around for something, anything in the piles of work that might reasonably keep him chained to his desk for a few days.

"Donna!" he bellowed, frustrated more with himself than with her.

"Yes?" She had glided up behind him and her voice sounded just over his right shoulder.

"Gah!" he shrieked, sliding sideways, arms akimbo. "That's it. You're getting a bell for Christmas you can wear around your neck."

"And every time it rings an angel will get her wings. Was there a point to the shouting, or are you just keeping in practice?"

"I need something urgent, something that only I can fix, and that doesn't involve any actual work. I'm not having the best day."

"Sorry. Can't help you there. Here," she said, handing over a folder of travel documents. "You need to get going. You've got about two hours to pack and meet me at my apartment."

"I still can't believe they're doing this to me." Josh was muttering, savagely stuffing his papers into the backpack as he headed out of the office. "I'll see you… at your apartment?"

"Apparently, there is some concern that without careful oversight you might cast Florida into the sea. Toby is sending me to keep an eye on you, and to run meeting prep Thursday morning for Senator Clay."

"But I was counting on you to keep an eye on everything here. You're my lifeline to the office, and you can't be the lifeline if you come with me." Josh titled his head. "This trip is getting crazier and crazier."

"We've got our phones, and the laptop, and I'm sure the hotel has all the meeting facilities you'll need." Donna had her own bag under one arm and a stack of folders under the other.

Josh stopped, nearly at the lobby. "Okay, you don't seem to have grasped the lifeline concept. What's all that?" he gestured to the files under her arm.

"You're not the only one who has work to do on this trip you know. You're just the one bitching about it." She blew at a strand of hair that had escaped down over her face. "Toby mentioned that since I actually work for him, maybe I could do some work for him. He's asking me to put something together for the President."

Without thinking, Josh reached out and tucked the stray strand of hair back behind her ear. Her hair was soft and sleek as anything he had ever touched. Pulling his hand back suddenly, he stammered, "I, uh, I'll be by in about two hours. We, we need to check in at Lorton so they can load the car."

"See you soon." She was a little distracted, and walked the wrong way to her car and had to turn around, feeling foolish under the eyes of the park police and secret service that watched the building.

W.W.

"Leo, what's the status of the project we discussed earlier?" The President was in his eager mode, rubbing his hands together and hunching his shoulders a lot. Leo was worried that any minute he'd find a way to start talking about National Parks and the afternoon would be a complete write-off.

"Charlie was able to round up just about everything we needed, Mr. President." Despite himself, Leo was starting to enjoy this too. "Debbie, we're taking the call here?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. President, I've faxed everything you outlined to Dr. Christensen. Her office promised she'd have a response and would be calling within the hour." Debbie Fiderer was wearing one of the flowing gowns she wore so often, a deceptively casual looking arrangement until you looked at the precise and measured way it was draped and tied. She had great attention to detail and a gift for imposing order, which served her well in her position as the chief administrative assistant to the President.

"Charlie," said the President, turning to his young aide, "if you can get this organized and ready so quickly, how come you haven't finished your requirements at GW yet? Dragging your feet, I wager."

The phone rang, the switchboard sending through the call they had been waiting for.

Charlie leapt forward to take the call, muttering, "I guess we'll never know, sir."

"Yes? Yes, ma'am. Please hold for the President." He handed the phone to President Bartlet.

"Hello Doctor Christensen. This is President Josiah Bartlet. Very good, thank you. I take it you received the information my aide sent to you? Very good. So, the residency issue is not an obstacle? She did? Wonderful. And the examination we proposed is acceptable? Yes. We'll send you the documents and supporting materials no later than next week. Oh, that's very kind of you. Yes, and thank you, Doctor. Good evening."

"So?" Leo was pacing. He could tell it was good news from his friend's body language, but he wanted to hear it.

"Miss Moss' academic credits, along with credit for her experiences here, combined with Toby's evaluation, are accepted by the regents of the University of Wisconsin at Madison."

"Nicely done, sir," Debbie was grinning, and she allowed herself to show some approval despite her normally acerbic tone.

"It wasn't me, Debbie," Jed Bartlet turned to his young aide. "Charlie's case was described by Dr. Christensen as compelling in every detail. Once Donna completes the assignment we sent off with her, and assuming it shows original research and not a rephrase of existing staff views, they will accept it as her final paper to complete her Bachelors of Science in Political Science."

"I'm sure she'll be very happy, sir." Charlie thought of his own college work and knew that there really was something special about pursuing knowledge beyond the compulsion of high school.

"There is one catch," the President added. "Leo, she wants you to review the paper and include a brief note of your thoughts for the regents board. They apparently think very highly of you in Madison."

"In Madison?" Leo thought for a moment. "Well. Who knew?"