Yorktown Revisited

by Len

Josh/Donna: Josh is having issues, with walls and Lord John Marbury. First in the Operation Moss series.

 Yorktown Revisited

By: Len

Spoilers: The Drop-In

Catergory:  Josh/Donna

Teaser:  Josh is having problems, with walls and Lord Marbury.

Rating: PG

Diclaimer:  The West Wing still doesn't belong to me.  Rats.  It belongs to Aaron Sorkin and NBC and probably some other people I don't remember...  Don't sue me.  I have nothing you'd want. (-:

Notes:  Feedback is, as always, very welcome: poppy_twist@hotmail.com

  He is loving this.  He is savoring every damn minute.  But I guess that's what happens when you have supreme executive power.  You can afford to torture your friends.

  The funny thing is, it looks like Leo has pretty much patched things up with Marbury.  Enough that they aren't going to actually kill each other if they are left alone in the same room.

  A part of me rejoices.  You have no idea how boring it is to be the man hired to make problems for Bartlet's opposition, and end up having to referee a crazy Englishman and an over-worked Chief of Staff.  It's not in my job description.  And as some people will tell you, it's probably not the wisest place for me to be if we want to stay on speaking terms with Great Britain.

  So now the Lunatic Brit has an official place in Washington.  There really is no justice in the world, is there?  The people in the Oval Office are mulling around, offering him congratulations, posing for pictures.  Marbury is grinning like he's just seen his first fireworks show, and the President is in the middle of a lecture on English history.  I fall back, watching it all.  At that moment, I really wish I had a flat wall handy.

                                                                               *

  "Donna!" I shout a while later.  Her stuff is still at her desk, so I know she hasn't gone home yet.  There is no answer.  This is strange.  My voice has a naturally carrying quality, so she must have heard me if she was still in the office..."Donna!"

  "She's not here," Leo says, walking past.  I look up from my confused contemplation of her desk.

  "Yeah, that's what I'm starting to think."

  Leo looks at me in that way he has-the Almost Eye-Rolling look.  "No, she really isn't here.  I heard her agree to a celebratory drink with John Marbury."

  "What!"   I think Leo is now smirking.  "You let her leave with that lunatic?" I demand.

  "Josh, your assistant is old enough to make up her own mind about that sort of thing.  I don't think she would have taken kindly to me telling her she has to stay because her boss is intimidated by her date's intelligence and charm."

  "Intelligence and....she got to you!!  For the last damn time, I am not intimidated by any aspect of that man's person or personality!"

  "Donna thinks you are."

  I fiddle around with the mug on her desk, contemplating a suitable mode of pay-back to use on my assistant, and then pause.  "It's a date?"  I ask as his words start to sink in.  He is smirking again.  I turn and head into my office.

  "Well, Marbury thinks it is.  Josh," he starts, following me inside.

  I look up from the carpet  "Yeah Leo?"

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm standing with my back straight against the wall," I answer.  I try to think of a relaxing place.  A wide, sandy beach.  No.  That makes me think of Florida and the number of registered Republican voters

  "Why are you standing with your back against a wall?"

  "It's supposed to relax me."  What about a deep, dark, green forest?  No.  That instantly brings to mind CARE and the drop-in at the GDC dinner.

  "Doesn't look like it's working," My boss observes.

  "It just needs a little time."  A nice empty desert maybe?  No.  That reminds me of last summer's drought in the Midwestern states which played havoc with crop production.

  "How much time does it usually take?"

  "Not sure."  I give up and push myself away from the wall.  "I usually get hit by a door before it really starts to work."

  "Oh.  Well, when you see Donna, tell her to come by my office."

  Huh?  Donna's getting called onto the carpet?  "Leo?"

  "Margaret wants to talk to her.  Something about bottling whatever she's got..."

  "Okay," I reply slowly.  I have no idea what Leo is talking about.  It probably shows, but Leo turns to go anyway.

  I do some odd paperwork and listen for Donna's familiar footfalls.  I don't hear them, or anything else for that matter.  Everyone has gone home.  I guess it's safe to return to my wall. 

  I'm running out of calming things to think about here.  Beaches, deserts, forests...sky.  Sky is very calming.  I imagine myself lying on the grass in front of my Mom's house, staring up at the sky and watching the fat, fluffy clouds float by.

  And this is working, until out of nowhere I remember that Donna has just lowered her Eligible Man Standard to include those of questionable mental stability.  This is disturbing for a minute.  But then I think of my frequently questionable mental stability, and the fact that Donna is always right here to keep me from going off the deep end.  I guess I'm hardly in a position to judge.  'Like that's ever stopped you before,' a little voice says in my head.  It sounds disturbingly like Donna.

  It's about this point that somehow my picture of Donna gets mixed up with the my mental sky picture and I realize how blue her eyes are when she smiles, and how soothing her presence is when she's happy...

  Whoa there, Lyman.

  That's it.  I've been at work way too long.  I need some sleep.  That's probably the root of my problems, anyway.  There's no way tomorrow could be as stressful as today was. And tomorrow I will examine the Donna/Marbury problem.  It's in her best interests, of course.

                                    *

  Well, like they say, the best laid plans of mice and men...It seems I am not going to get home tonight.  And not because I'm getting drunk and ending up on Donna's couch, either.  I have no reason to get drunk, except maybe out of sympathy to Sam.  And I'm not allowed to do that on a school night, anyway.

  No, I'm not drunk.  I kind of wish I was.

  I am standing behind my office door, meditating for no particular reason on the Immigration Policy, when I hear a loud crash from the Operations Bullpen.  I jump away from the wall and look towards the sound.  It's Donna.  She's alone.

  "Hey, Josh," she says cheerfully, continuing to knock things off her desk, "I'm trying to find my keys.  Have you seen them?"

  Okay, there are two things very wrong with this picture.  One, Donna has no respect for my ability to even dress myself in the morning; there is no way in hell she would ever expect me to know where anything is, especially any of her stuff.  Two, Donna is knocking things off her desk.  Do I need to repeat myself?  She is knocking things off her desk.  Donnatella Moss is making a mess, and she looks like she's enjoying it.

  The world must be about to end.

                                    *

  My assistant giggles.  "You look like a fish, Joshua," she says, and demonstrates.  I realize I've been staring at her.

  "How was your date?"  I sit on the edge of her desk and try for casual.

  "Oh, you know," she shrugs.  "I made some contacts.  If I'm still single in ten...twenty years I might be able to hook myself some royalty..." She sits next to me on her now-spotless desk.

  "Oh yeah?"

  "Yup."  She's weaving, I realize.  Swaying back and forth like she's really caught up in some music that I can't hear.  Oh yeah, it's music all right.  One bourbon, one scotch and one beer...

  "Donna, are you drunk?"

  "Yup."  She looks over and squints at me.  The blue eyes I was relaxing with earlier are having trouble focusing on me.  "Only a leeeetle bit."  She shows me the space between her thumb and forefinger, and sways again.  I grab onto her before she falls off the desk.

  "God, I wish I had a camcorder," I mutter.

  "So do I."

  Here we go.  What you are about to see, fellow citizens of the United States, is Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman being led like a State Fair pony by his lovely assistant, Donnatella Moss.

  "Why do you wish you had a camcorder?" I say with a sense of impending doom.

  "I drank Lord Marbury under the table!" she says gleefully, and then slides off the desk and lands in a heap on the floor.  "You shoulda seen it, Josh!  His system isn't as sensitive as your's but I took him!  U.S. one, Great Britain, nil!!"

  At least, I think that's what she's saying.  Her voice is kind of muffled by carpet.

  "You took the new British Ambassador and got him drunk?" I laugh in disbelief.  So maybe this day isn't ending quite as badly as it started. 

  "The man needs to relax.  Y'know, Josh, he's is absolutely _dreamy_ when he's drunk?"

  I take that back.  Today sucks on all levels.  "Yeah, I've heard that."

  With what is apparently a tremendous effort, Donna pushes herself to a sitting position and does that pouty thing.  "Don't worry Josh, I still love you."  She tries to pat me on the foot and misses by a mile.  "But hey, a girl's gotta have a lil' fun somime..."

  Her speech patterns are disintegrating, and I'm pretty sure she's lost her drunken mind.  "I still love you?"  Where the hell had that come from?

  I fight down a sudden wave of pure terror.  Please God, let that be the drink talking.  "C'mon, Donna, let's get you home."  I haul her to her feet, and then prop her against my office doorframe while I get my coat and backpack.  "How did you get past security?"

  She giggles again.  If I hadn't just been sucker-punched I would have thought it was kind of cute.  "I am a par-a paragon of sobriety...compared to John."

  "John?"

  "Yup.  He's being held by security right now.  I was gonna give him a ride to his hotel...Oh!  We gotta go pick 'im up, Josh!"

  "Okay.  We'll do that," I say agreeably.

  Donna frowns at me.  "You're not going to, are you?"

  How well she knows me.  "No."

  "That's not nice, Josh."

  I open her desk drawer, pull out her purse, and hand it to her.  "Marbury can sober up and find his own way home.  And you know what they say."

  "Who say?  Is someone saying something?"

  "I don't know.  'They'--whoever.  A long time ago..."

  "And what do they say, Josh?"

  "All's fair in love and war, Donna."

  I start to tow her out the door.  I really hope Leo's not around anymore.

  "Which one is this?" she finally asks as we come to my car.  I unlock the doors and look at her.

  "Huh?"

  "Love or war?  Which is it?"

  I shrug and feel my palms start to sweat.  "Oh, one of the above, I bet."

  Donna mumbles something and then rests her head on the dash, groaning.  The woman has an amazing metabolism, so it takes a hell of a lot to get her drunk-I know.  In fact, I don't think I've ever seen her like this.  I drive through the streets and take the corners slow.  Before long we are in front of the sooty, graffiti-decorated complex she calls home.  I'm afraid to leave my car unattended in her neighborhood.

  "Time to get up, Sunshine!" I say cheerfully.  She cracks open her eyes and rewards me with a particularly venomous glare.  She then opens the door and climbs out.

  Donna has no elevator.  I help her up however many hundreds of flights of stairs there are, and then unlock her apartment.  "Here we are."

  "Yeah."

  She is standing in the doorway, looking at me with an unreadable expression.  I look away. 

  "So, I'll see you in work tomorrow.  Eight o'clock."

  "Okay.  Thanks, Josh."

  "Yeah."  Over her shoulder I see her roommate come out into the living room.  Candi, or Cindi, or Cami or something.

  "He's not staying here, Donna!  I don't care how damn drunk he is!" she screeches.  "He abuses my cats!"

  My assistant puts her hands over her ears and sushes her.  Agony is evident on her face.  "Oh.  Sorry," the brunette mouths.  I just shake my head and turn to go.

                              *

  On October 6th, 1781, we opened, as Leo would say, a big can of whoop-ass on the British at Yorktown.  And all because one man, British General Charles Cornwallis, didn't heed the warnings given to him.  He was arrogant and over-confidant in his abilities, and we kicked his ass.  We had the home court advantage.  Intelligence, allies, the whole bit.  Cornwallis waltzed into Yorktown expecting an easy win.  And then Washington showed up and blew him and the entire British Army out of the water.  Figuratively speaking, of course.

Marbury had better be careful about what he tries to pull on my territory.  I've got history going for me.