I hold my cell phone to my ear impatiently as it rings on the other end.
"Josh Lyman's office," Donna answers brightly. She thinks she's a comedian.
I pull the phone away from my ear for a second as the noise hits my ear. "Where are you? It's really loud."
"I went to that shut down party."
At this point, I kinda wish I was there with her. "So, that list of shut down effects you faxed?"
"Yeah, the one about the elks over-populating is true. They stopped issuing hunting licenses."
"Why'd you put social security on the list? It's an entitlement."
"Yeah, but we sent home the people from the social security administration who run the machines that cut the checks."
I nearly smack my forehead; how could we have missed that? "The checks won't go out."
"Not unless we get the GAO to issue a ruling to bring those guys back in. What'd counsel say about the other thing?"
"It's considered coercion to come back to work as a volunteer."
"Oh, but it's not coercion to work on a cell phone and run to Kinko's every ten minutes to send you faxes and emails?"
"AARP considers you essential."
"When do you think I'll get my essential paycheck?" Donna asks, hard to hear over the noise around her. "Rent's due at the end of the month."
"I'll lend you money."
"Yeah, but wouldn't that just be emblematic of all these stop-gap continuing resolutions, taking out a long, begging for an extension rather than grappling with the hard reality of—"
"I hate to interrupt you when you're on a roll," I tell her, lowering my voice as I look around to make sure no one's listening. Though, as I look around, I realize that there's really no one here to eavesdrop anyway. "But if you'd just moved in with me when I suggested it, paying rent wouldn't be an issue."
She sighs in my ear and I can hear her moving around, the chattering around her growing quieter as I assume she moves to a less crowded location. "Josh, we talked about that. We said we were going to wait until the end of the administration."
"Yeah, but you're there every night anyway. Besides, we made that decision during the first term when we kinda thought that's all we'd have. I don't think it counts anymore."
She giggles softly, reminding me of how she sounded this morning as I nibbled on her neck. "That still doesn't change the fact that I have to pay rent in a couple of weeks and I don't think my landlord will accept that my boyfriend thinks I should be living with him in lieu of actual currency."
I can't help but laugh in response. "You're right. Get a cheaper apartment."
"And somehow, those are still tough to pay for when you don't have a paycheck." We're silent for a few moments and I breathe deeply; just knowing she's on the other end helps ground me. "I just want to come in and do my job."
If she had any idea of how much I want her here with me… "Tell me about it."
"Stop being a baby and just go. Leo's not going to send you an engraved invitation."
I sigh—poor Donna's been hearing about this for weeks and weeks now. She's been insanely patient with me as I sulk and lick my wounds, as I go on for hours about how unjust the whole thing is, how it's not really my fault, that I'm being sidelined for no reason at all, but I know even she has a breaking point. "I don't need calligraphy. He knows where my office is."
She sighs, too. "Yeah, well. Bye." She hangs up abruptly, making me almost chuckle. Either someone was coming and she didn't want them to hear our conversation, or she was getting tired of listening to me bitch. I'm betting on the latter.
It's just that the last couple of months have been so horrible; I've never felt more useless at my job. I know I should be grateful that I wasn't fired, and, really, I am, but damn. Enough is enough. Carrick wasn't a real member of the party and everyone knew it. He was going to defect at some point no matter what. He can put it off on me and say I made the decision easier for him all he wants to, but everyone knows he had one foot out the door for years, and the other foot was constantly edging that way, too. He was just looking for someone to blame.
But Donna—beautiful, tolerant, kind, wonderful Donna—has supported me tirelessly through this. She's been a sounding board each and every time I go on a rant, somehow knowing when I need to just vent and when I need someone to throw out suggestions, she's held me when I'm at my lowest points, doing everything in her power to make things better. It's helped to a degree. Knowing she's there for me—at home and at the office—has been the only thing to make this whole thing livable.
I really hate that she's not here right now. Non-essential my ass. Anyone who's worked with Donna for five minutes knows how essential she is. Hell, look at the social security thing. None of us caught that. None of us even considered it. Maybe it's like that thing the President wanted us to know a while back—the cost of milk. Most of us on senior staff had no idea what the cost was. I couldn't say the last time I went to the store and bought it. I usually get someone to help me out with that…well, I usually get Donna to help me out with that, and she was absolutely disgusted that I didn't know the price. She thinks I need to be more in touch with the real world. She's probably not wrong, and as soon as I have a few spare moments, I'll work on that. For now, I have Donna to keep me grounded.
I don't think I could be prouder of Donna if I tried. Seriously, she's the reason the government will be up and running again. None of us caught the social security thing—that was all her. Maybe I was wrong—maybe she is Wilt Chamberlain in this scenario. Or the rookie who pulled a dozen rebounds and won the game. At any rate, she's been impressing the hell out of me lately. She's stepped up more than ever and people are taking notice. I'm not a fan of Ryan Pierce in the slightest, but maybe having him around to do some of the really menial tasks has opened up some time for Donna to really focus her considerable energies on bigger matters.
I hope it's not condescending to say I'm proud of her, because that's what I am. Yeah, sure, I've been pouting a lot lately, and it chapped my ass a little that Donna got to be part of the budget meetings, but I don't begrudge her. I just want to be in the room, too.
I sigh a little and spare a glance toward the door of the Oval. Donna's face as we all rushed out a few minutes ago is haunting me. It's honestly so stupid that she's not in here with us. She did the damn thing. We might have figured out the social security thing at some point, but it would have taken us far longer to get to it, maybe not until a few days before those checks were supposed to go out. It's becoming increasingly more obvious that Donna belongs in a higher position. There's no reason that someone with her capabilities and knowhow couldn't come to work because her job title doesn't reflect what she does around here.
Seriously—this is ridiculous. We're all sitting here congratulating ourselves when the real hero is still technically not working. Objectively, I realize she didn't do it all. She didn't hammer out the details and negotiate deals…but she could have. I guess that's the point. When she's given the chance, she proves herself in spades. Everyone here knows how valuable she is. Even the President of the United States knows it. I don't know why he hasn't offered her more to do around here.
Sighing to myself, I answer my own question; because everyone knows I'd be lost without her. That's definitely not a good enough reason to hold her back. I absolutely despise the idea of working here without her by my side, but I genuinely do want what's best for her.
Maybe we need to sit down and have a long talk about all this.
"And as soon as everyone's back to work, I want to talk to Donna Moss personally." I perk up at President Bartlet's voice. He gives me a little half smile. "Make sure you tell her that, would you, Josh?"
"Of course, sir."
"All right. Everyone get out of here before Abbey forces you out."
With a smattering of "thank you, sirs" and "have a good night, Mr. Presidents," I push my way out of the Oval Office and hurry down the hall, hoping that she hasn't left yet. I'm banking on her inherent nosiness to have kept her around.
I'm not disappointed.
I skid into my office, Donna looking up guiltily from my desk. "I know, I know," she says, throwing her hands up. "I need to leave. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm sorry."
She tries to slide past me out the office door but I grab onto her waist. "He kinda has a dinner to get to right now, but as soon as you're officially back at work, the President wants to talk to you."
She pauses, whatever protest of the positioning of my hands she has dying on her lips. "He does? Really?"
A grin spreads across my face. "I believe he wants to give credit where credit's due."
Her eyes grow wide as she smiles, but a moment later she puts her hands on mine, trying to push them away. "Josh, we're at work," she murmurs.
"We're the worst kept secret in the White House."
She bites her lip a little. "Maybe so, but that doesn't mean we have to flaunt it so publicly."
I glance around the bullpen, finding it mostly deserted. "We're not flaunting anything."
She shrugs, pushing my hands away from her waist, though she squeezes my fingers for a second before releasing them. It's true that most people around here don't technically know about us—a lot of people make assumptions about us but they've always done that. None of it is based on anything other than idle gossip. The people who matter to us know in an unofficial sort of way. They could never be incriminated in anything, but to say they're completely ignorant would be a lie. Still, we're never affectionate at work, at least not in any way that could be construed as anything beyond friendship, so I suppose I see why she's a little worried right now.
"You did good," I tell her. "You should be proud of yourself."
She beams at me before ducking her head, avoiding eye contact. "Josh…"
I cup her face in my hands and smile. A moment later I pull her in, pressing my lips to hers. She responds for a fraction of a second before she pushes me away, looking around in horror.
"Josh, someone's gonna see us!" she hisses through clenched teeth.
"I don't care anymore," I answer, stepping closer to her.
"We can't work together and be together." Her mouth is downturned, her eyes sad, and it breaks my heart. "You know that."
"Then maybe it's time we changed one of those things." Her eyes widen in alarm, and I rush to reassure her. "Maybe it's time we try to find a place here that's better suited to your talents."
Her breath catches as she stares at me, wide-eyed. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying…I'm saying you can do so much more than what you're doing now, and maybe we need to explore your options to find the best place for you here. Let me make it clear, though, that I absolutely do not want to lose you as my assistant. You're incredible at what you do. I just know you can be incredible at other things, too."
"Really?" she whispers, a grin tugging at her lips.
"Donna, you kick ass. You always kick ass. I think it's time we figure out how you can kick ass on a larger scale." I cup her face again, stroking my thumbs over her cheeks. "I don't want to hold you back."
"You don't hold me back," she whispers. "I'm where I want to be."
I swallow heavily. "Well, like I said, I don't want to lose you as my right hand, but it's past the point of ridiculous for you to be left out of important meetings because you're technically an assistant. You need to be in the room with us."
"I'm not going to suddenly be senior staff," she answers, shaking her head a little.
"Maybe not, but we can certainly try to figure all this out for you. You keep saying you want to do more around here; let's figure out how."
She leans forward suddenly, fusing her mouth to mine. I'm so surprised that it takes me a few long moments to respond. The kiss doesn't last very long, and though it's still wildly inappropriate for the workplace, I can't bring myself to care a whole lot. We press our foreheads together, breathing deeply. I grab onto her waist again, pulling her a little closer.
"Maybe if we get the job stuff figured out, it'll help you solve that pesky problem of how to pay your rent," I whisper.
"You mean because I'd get paid more?"
I pull my head back, giving her a look, but her eyes are twinkling with mischief. "Of course. That's absolutely what I meant."
Her face softens and she reaches up to stroke my cheek. "Or I could finally move in with you."
"Always a possibility," I tease, even though the possibility of us living together is suddenly very real and it makes my heart pound with excitement. "I love you."
Donna beams. "I love you, too." I lean in to kiss her again, pausing when I hear a sigh. Donna and I look up, somehow not at all surprised to find CJ standing just down the hall. She looks like she's trying her hardest to be stern, but a smile keeps pulling at her lips.
"The two of you will be the death of me, you know that?"
"Sorry," I answer, genuinely meaning it.
She waves her hand at me, looking studiously at the file folders in her hand. "We'll figure it out." With that, she disappears into her office, closing the door definitively behind her.
Donna nods at me, her own eyes suspiciously misty, and I kiss her again. We'll figure it out.