Author's Note: Hi everybody! Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me for awhile! Surprise! It occurred to me sometime during the sleepless hours of last night that if I didn't somehow process all this despair and disillusionment, I didn't know how I was ever going to enjoy The West Wing again, much less write for it. And this election has taken enough, it's not going to take that away from me, too. So here is my catharsis, sloppily edited, perhaps poorly written, definitely a thinly-veiled allegory for our times. I hope you're all doing okay out there. We're going to get through this, and I will do whatever I can using escapist fantasies to make it easier. 3
This is Alternate Universe Season Four, I think you'll find the thread quickly.
…...
Josh had managed to walk normally out of the campaign's war room, but as soon as he was outside the ring of reporters and cameras, his steps quickened, breaking into a near run until he was back at his office, or what was his office for now. Donna followed him like a shadow, closing the door behind them as he sank into his own visitor chair. "I can't believe this is happening." He buried his face in his hands.
She sat down next to him silently, her own face waxen pale, faint traces of tears still on her cheeks. There was nothing she could say, but she reached out and touched his arm anyway, resting her slim fingers against his wrist. After a moment he turned his hand and took hers, clasping it almost painfully hard. They sat in silence for long minutes, neither moving nor speaking. Outside, it had grown so late that the sky was turning gray with the promise of morning, likely an overcast and stormy one. "It wasn't supposed to be this way," he finally muttered. "How could they choose Ritchie?" He looked up at her, his eyes tormented.
"I don't know," she replied softly. "Maybe he managed to scare them with the stuff about a vanishing American way of life. Maybe it was the religious zealots and the anti-abortion groups." She shrugged very slightly. "Maybe people just couldn't get past the MS."
He straightened abruptly. "They couldn't get past it because the media threw it in their faces every day for an entire year! Where were they to talk about how Ritchie has no foreign policy experience, and no coherent plan for health care? What about all those speeches full of dog whistles for his racist base, nobody thought that was interesting enough to pursue?" He subsided again just as quickly, the momentary burst of energy spent. "We were so close. If I'd just-"
"You did everything you could," Donna reminded him firmly. "A lot of people did. It was a phenomenal campaign against steep odds, and it was so, so close."
"Close doesn't matter!" Josh didn't give up her hand, but he used the other one to pull at his hair. "We still lost, and it's the end of everything we've worked for here. He's even got the Congress on his side. Every reform we managed to make, every step forward, he's going to roll them back and take more steps backward besides. Hope you didn't like working outside the home or getting to wear pants or take birth control. Everything we built, everything we sacrificed for..." His hand went up to cover his chest, an unconscious gesture that broke her heart.
"No." She was out of her chair suddenly, kneeling in front of him and taking both his hands in hers. "That's not how it's going to happen," she promised, even as she swallowed around the lingering lump in her throat. "It doesn't end like this."
"We lost, remember?" he told her harshly, the edge in his voice near to breaking. "We don't get to make those decisions when we're not even in the room anymore!"
"We lost, but we're not going home!" she reminded him, her voice just as intense, if softer. "Just because we aren't in the White House anymore doesn't mean we don't have a voice or a job to do. We're going to finish out the term doing every bit of good we can still squeeze in, and after that we work from the outside to make sure that they don't get anything for free. When they go to roll back the progress we've made, we're going to be there, throwing ourselves on the tracks to stop them." She squeezed his hands. "Nothing is over. We're just getting started."
He stared at her wordlessly for a long minute. "I thought you might want to go back to Wisconsin after all this. It hasn't been the easiest four years," he offered quietly.
"I go where you go," she promised him simply. "And I know you. You're not just going to give up."
"And if I try, you'll kick my ass back into gear?" He smiled, just a tiny bit, but it was something.
"You're damn right." She smiled back, a bit watery, but it was something.
"You won't be my assistant anymore," he pointed out.
She nodded. "I think you'll still find me valuable."
"Donna, there is nothing in my life more valuable than you," He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, one hand slipping from her grasp to come up and cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling in her long hair. She made a soft noise and opened her mouth to his, her own hand rising to caress the line of his jaw. The kiss was slow, and a little salty, and very, very sweet. Finally he pulled back and studied her face as though seeing it for the first time. "Wow..."
That earned a tiny burst of laughter from her. "That's another thing to consider," she agreed. "And explore, later. We should get back."
"Yeah," he agreed. He kissed her again instead, just because now he could. She broke it off this time, slipping her hand back into his as they walked out of the office and went to console their friends.