Title: Shadow of a Doubt

Author: Shelly

E-Mail: NurseZelda@aol.com or shellysmk@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: "The West Wing" is the property (and intellectual genius) of Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC and TPTB. "Alias" is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot, ABC and TPTB. Use of these characters is strictly for entertainment purposes. I can only dream about one day getting paid to do this. Do not redistribute without express permission from the author.

Summary: "Donna, this isn't easy for me to say, but you have to promise me that you'll believe me. I'm not going to lie to you. You've been gone for over two years. We all thought you were dead."

Commenced: 11/15/03 Completed: 1/20/04

First Posted: 1/20/04

Genre: Drama / Angst / Suspense / All of the above

Spoilers: Through fifth season, "Jefferson Lives." After that, I take a flying leap into A/U-ville. There's also a mention to the movie "Moulin Rouge." If you don't know how it ends and you don't want to know . . . you've been warned.

Feedback: makes my heart sing!

Archive: Fanfiction.net. Anywhere else? Just let me know, please.

Author's Notes: I had told myself to be content with reading the wonderful stories in this fandom. I had promised myself that I wouldn't attempt to write in this fandom. Then there was the challenge from Tamara on JoshDonnaFF which was: "What if Donna died? But comes back to life after 2 years, with no memory of what happened over the past 2 years. Yes, like Sydney on Alias. :) Replace Vaughn with Josh though, and Lauren with Amy. And make it a happy J/D ending." - Post #17215, 10/26/03. How could I say no? Heck! I love Alias and I love West Wing -- the two shows that I make a *point* of watching each and every week! So, here it is -- my very first West Wing Fic. I hope you enjoy. Please note that for the purposes of this story, it is assumed that Sam won the special election for the House seat in the California 47th district.

Thank you: Special, special thanks to the following amazing people: To Jobsies for her daily encouragement. If you hadn't prodded me on, this wouldn't be finished. To Vikki and Julie for betaing a story from a series they don't even watch and telling me it was good to go. Again, to Vikki for her expertise of the San Diego area. To Fling and eman, for their beta skills, as well -- again, for a fandom they don't write for but for a series they *do* watch. Also again, to eman for the amazing, unsolicited fanart that will grace the .html version of this story, where ever it might be posted. You *are* a goddess! And finally to Shelley for taking the time to beta for a newbie and being a great guide. You're all the best!

Shadow of a Doubt

"Give me a reason to believe that you're gone. I see your shadow, so I know they're all wrong. Moonlight on the soft, brown earth, it leads me to where you lay. They took you away from me, but now I'm taking you home." 'Even in Death' - Evanescence

"Where has my heart gone? Trapped in the eyes of a stranger." 'Fields of Innocence' - Evanescence

Part One

There was nothing Donna enjoyed more than watching fireworks on the Fourth of July. Well, to be honest, there was one thing she enjoyed more, but that . . . no, *he* was untouchable -- figuratively and literally. For the time being, she knew she would just have to content herself with the verbal sparring and wicked banter that defined her connection with her boss . . . her friend. *If* anything more was to ever come of that relationship, well, that was something Donna chose to not think about. Smiling to herself, she sipped from the glass of champagne that the subject of her thoughts had brought to her and stole a glance to her left.

He wasn't there.

Curious, she looked around, wondering to where he'd drifted, when he'd just been standing next to her moments before. It was then that she glanced to her right, leaning forward slightly to scan the faces of the other White House employees that had lined the porch to watch the fireworks display. Amy was gone, too.

Suppressing a groan, Donna shook her head and downed the last of her drink in one long swallow. Josh had been 'off' all day, and the not-so-coincidental absence of both him and the shrew-beast-from-Hell pretty much spelled out where his mind was. She steeled herself against the feelings of unfounded jealousy for her boss and turned her attention back to the fireworks, trying to keep her mind off of Josh and what he was probably -- no, undoubtedly -- doing with Amy, but it was no use.

Without a word, she turned and left the porch, deciding that a quiet evening at home was preferable to standing among her coworkers, pretending nothing was bothering her. She was halfway down the hall when she heard a distinctive laugh echoing from up ahead.

"Can't you wait until we get to my place?" the voice asked as the laughter subsided. Donna knew, without a doubt, that the voice belonged to Amy. She stood frozen in place, not wanting to take another step, her imagination, against her wishes, filling in the visual for what she was hearing.

It was not good.

She couldn't hear Josh's reply to Amy's question, but it must have been satisfactory because laughter rang out once again, and Donna heard the door open and close. They were gone, and she was, as usual, alone.

"Everything okay?"

Donna jumped and whirled around, nearly losing her balance and knocking C.J. over in the process.

"Whoa there," C.J. said as she placed a steadying hand on Donna's shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I . . . I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I was just going to grab my stuff from my desk and head on home." As she spoke, she gestured in the direction of the bullpen.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." C.J. patted Donna's arm and started walking. "I'm getting ready to head out myself. I'll walk with you."

It was obvious that C.J. had overheard the same things that Donna had heard and she recognized her friend's attempts at distraction. "It's just . . ." Donna began as the two walked past her desk and into C.J.'s office, "it's been a really long day."

"It's been a long string of long days," C.J. agreed, depositing Donna on her couch before she was even aware of what was happening. "Now, do you want to tell me what the jackass has done this time?"

"Which one?" Donna asked airily, smirking and glancing over her shoulder at the deserted hallway.

"Let me clarify. That would be *your* jackass." C.J. offered a forced smile. She meant business.

Donna shifted her attention back into the room and sighed. "I think it's pretty clear that he's not *my* jackass."

C.J. nodded and walked toward the office door, glancing around before closing it and joining Donna on the couch. "Look, Donna, this isn't the Press Secretary and the Deputy Chief of Staff's Assistant talking here. This is you and me -- Claudia Jean and Donnatella. I mean -- I can't even pretend to fathom what there is between you and Josh, and before you start to protest, hear me out." Donna closed her mouth and nodded, her contradictions to C.J.'s words dead on her lips.

"I know you care about him, and I know he cares about you. I know there are . . . feelings . . . there that, for whatever reason, both of you are hiding and denying. I know it kills you when he's with someone else, just like it kills him when you are. I know there's . . . something . . . there and right now you're obviously hurt and confused. I can't offer a solution to your problem but I can be your shoulder to . . . you know . . . cry on, if you need it -- or your punching bag, for that matter, if you need that, too."

The knot in Donna's throat grew tighter as C.J. spoke, but she refused to cry. She nodded and sniffled, but wouldn't let the tears fall. When C.J. was done, Donna took a few deep breaths. "Thanks," she whispered, then added with a chuckle, "I'm not in any condition to confirm or deny anything you've just said -- but thanks for being my friend."

"Anytime." C.J. stood and collected her things. "Do you want a ride home?"

Donna stared at the floor and thought for a moment. "No," she replied. "I think I need some cinematherapy tonight. I'm gonna stop at the store on the way home. Tonight I want a little 'Moulin Rouge' avec le vin blanc."

"Drowning your sorrows with a bottle of white wine and Ewan McGregor? Sounds like a plan to me." C.J. offered Donna a hand and helped her off the couch. "Come on. I'll help you pick out a good Chardonnay."

* o *

C.J. watched as Donna walked up the steps, opened the door to her apartment building, and waved. She waved back then pulled away from the curb, waiting until she was a block away before picking up her cell phone. They had talked a little more in the car, and Donna had mentioned in passing that she had been considering asking for a transfer. C.J. knew Donna would thrive on her own and needed more responsibilities than Josh was willing to give her.

She also knew that losing Donna to another department could spell disaster for the Deputy Chief of Staff and that 'more responsibility' wasn't the real reason why the idea of a transfer had entered Donna's mind. She hesitated, her finger above the button, reconsidering nosing in where she didn't belong, but gave in and pressed speed dial 3.

Four rings later, Josh answered, seemingly out of breath.

"Hello, jackass."

"C.J.?"

"What's the matter Josh? Out jogging at this time of night?" She couldn't help but needle him, since she had a pretty good idea that his labored breathing had nothing to do with Reebok running shoes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"I've got something to tell you, mi amore -- something that you really have no right to know and I no right to tell you. Consider this a gift." She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as she waited for the traffic signal to turn green and for him to respond.

"What are you talking about?"

"I just dropped Donna off at her apartment with a full bottle of Chardonnay and a copy of 'Moulin Rouge.' You do the math." Try as she might, she was having a hard time maintaining a neutral tone.

"Oh, man. Which gomer pissed her off now?"

"Look in the mirror -- gomer." And with that she hung up. 'Let him figure the rest out,' she thought.

* o *

Josh lay his head down on the floor, wiping the sweat from his eyes. C.J.'s cryptic words were echoing through his mind. He'd lost count on his sit-ups and his stomach was sore. "Damn." He stood up and paced his living room, trying to put the pieces together.

Donna had seemed to be in a perfectly good mood the last time he'd seen her. He had picked up a glass of champagne for her on the patio as they'd watched the fireworks. She'd smiled, and that was it. That was when he'd gone . . . with Amy.

"Damn."

'Look in the mirror -- gomer.'

Donna thought he'd gone home with Amy, and she was pissed at him. That had to be it. An inexplicable, yet pervasive, feeling of guilt washed over him, and he reached for his car keys. Somehow, he knew he needed to make it clear to Donna that he hadn't caved and gone back to Amy. If he could get to her place quickly enough, she wouldn't have had too much of the wine and would be more receptive to whatever he was going to say. That part -- what to say -- was something he was going to have to figure out during the short drive to her apartment.

He opened his front door and took a step out into the hall before it hit him that was barely dressed. He looked down at his attire -- a pair of boxers and a sweaty, sleeveless T-shirt -- and quickly returned to the privacy of his living room, berating himself for working through his frustrations with sit-ups.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, especially after the verbal smack down Amy had laid on him when he'd suddenly changed his mind and decided to go home alone. He still wasn't sure what had made him change his mind -- sex with no commitment wasn't something a warm-blooded male in his right mind often turned down -- but it hadn't seemed right to him at the time. Physical exercise was the best outlet he could think of to burn off his unspent energy. Now, it was costing him time.

As he walked toward his bedroom, he picked up the phone and hit the speed dial. Donna didn't answer. He threw on a pair of jeans and traded his sweaty T-shirt for the dress shirt he'd worn to work and headed out the door into the night.

* o *

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, se sois . . ." Donna sang along with 'The Diamond Dogs' at the top of her lungs. Nearly half the wine was already gone, and she had the television up as loud as she could get away with without the neighbors calling the police. Another tear rolled down her cheek, and she reached for the box of tissues only to come up empty.

"The only problem with this movie," she explained to no one, "is that you know from the outset that there isn't going to be a happy ending. There's no surprise at the end." With very little grace, she unfolded her legs from underneath her and made her way to the bathroom to get another box of tissues. "That's why you look like crap, my dear," she told the puffy-eyed woman in the mirror. "There's not going to be a happy ending, and you damn well know it."

In the distance, over the strains of music blaring from the living room, Donna thought she heard her phone ringing. Before she could make it out of the bathroom, however, it had stopped. She shrugged and took another step when something pressed against her mouth and nose. She was dimly aware that her front door was wide open, and a fragment of her consciousness saw the cats making a break for freedom. Clutching at what she now knew to be a hand, she tried to pull herself free.

Then, there was nothing.

* o *

Josh rounded the corner like a bat out of Hell. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he knew he had to make things right with Donna before it was too late. The sensation of urgency intensified as he drew nearer, and for some reason, he felt close to a nervous panic. As he approached her block, he began scanning the curb for a parking space, hoping he'd get lucky and not have to walk too far. His nerves were screaming for him to hurry, that he was taking too much time.

Less than a block away, he located an empty spot on the opposite side of the street and quickly cut across to claim it. The fact that he was parking in front of a fire hydrant hardly mattered. All he could concern himself with was getting to Donna's apartment and quickly. A parking ticket was a small price to pay for clearing up her misconceptions, and making things all right between them. He hated to think that she might be disappointed in him.

He shifted the car into 'park' and removed the keys, fumbling in his haste to open the car door. He stepped into the humid night air and glanced toward Donna's apartment, noting, with some relief, that her living room light was still on.

Then, it flickered.

The night suddenly erupted into a fireball, and Josh was thrown backward onto the sidewalk, shielding his eyes from the explosion. He could feel the heat, and his lungs burned with the fire. Shock claimed him, and he sat on the ground, watching in bewilderment as Donna's apartment building was engulfed in flame. The last thing he heard was the distant call of sirens before he gave himself up to the blackness.

Tbc . . .