Disclaimer: I do not own The West Wing, Donna Moss, Josh Lyman, Amy Gardner, et al. I've earned nothing but the pleasure of the writing, and the possibility of some nice feedback.
~*~*~
The Constituency of One
I followed Amy's progress down the corridor and into Josh's office. I hurried quietly and hovered outside the doorway just beyond the visual range of them both.
I'd left him answering e-mails, and I imagine he was still there. She was drinking in the sight of him. I recognized the look.
She sighed as she entered.
He kept typing.
"Gee, Amy, looks like you had a tough day. Why don't you tell me all about it while I give you a foot massage," she snarked.
I scanned the bullpen but no one else was close by. I flipped through the papers in the file folder I held, although I didn't pay an iota of attention to what they said.
He typed for a few more seconds, then the keyboard tray slammed into the credenza, and I heard his chair roll.
"Okay, let's talk about the fish." He was none too pleased. "You don't understand this building."
"Not being an architect or a steam fitter..."
Again with the snark. Could she be any more sarcastic? I wanted to slap her.
"I'm talking about a code; an ethos you don't understand."
"Josh—"
"Don't."
"I was jus—"
"That Post profile—the legislative juggernaut, all those anecdotes, all those quotes came from you."
"Happy Birthday." Her tone was insulting.
Bitch. I wanted to escort her out by the scruff of her neck.
"We don't glorify ourselves," Josh said emphatically.
I loved it when he got passionate.
"How is the president going to feel when I've got better press than him? How's every punk congressional staffer gonna feel when I'm taking victory laps the week after losing a key vote?"
"They'll...feel like you're not gonna lose the next one."
"We don't advertise. It's the code."
"It's not the code to look strong to your constituents? To build yourself up so tha—"
"The only constituency that matters in this building is the constituency of one—the man in the round room. That's—"
"I came here to work on issues. Not to be a part of a messianic cult."
Her shoes hit the floor and I scurried away from the door. One of the aides held a phone in my direction.
I grabbed the receiver and listened for thirty seconds and hung up.
Now I've got to make my presence known. I stepped into Josh's line of sight, behind Amy.
He immediately looked at me, which forced Amy to turn as well. Her face hardened. Too damn bad, bitch. I've got matters of national importance to discuss.
"Hang on...." Josh was on his feet and moving toward me. "Just hang on a second, okay?"
I loved having that kind of power. I rarely used it for personal gain, but I liked it when I could stick it to Amy on Josh's behalf.
We walked a few feet farther away before I spoke.
"Senator Carrick just held up another fifty-six promotions."
"What?!"
"The Army Secretary called; he wants to set up a meeti—"
Josh glanced back at Amy. "Unless the meeting's to strap Chris Carrick to his idiot missile launcher and fling him into an ICBM..." He headed for one of the desks; and away from Amy, I might add. "...which he'll miss. Then I'm no—"
"The Army Secretary's concerned if it becomes public."
"I'm making it public," he said, pulling papers and folders from the desk.
"You are?" I asked.
"I'm leaking to every major newspaper in the known universe that Carrick's blocking military promotions, that he's doing it for a hunk of pork barrel defense industrial scrap metal." His voice rose as he moved toward the doors.
"Are you sure that's a good id—" I called.
"I'm calling his bluff," Josh called back, pushing out the doors. "I'm making him crawl down here on his knees. I'll be in the press office."
I turned back toward Amy who was still standing there and looking partly pissed and partly disappointed. Left behind for the job once again. Josh wasn't an easy man to love. Not easy in the sense that he was this job and it always came first.
Otherwise he's very easy to love. He's smart and funny and cute. He cleans up good—have you sent that man in a tux? Whew.
Now I had to go get his surprise party in the Roosevelt Room set up. The chef downstairs baked a cake in the shape of a whale. I can't wait to see Josh's reaction. He always says no fuss, but I know how pleased he gets when we remember.
****
I'm pacing while waiting for him. Finally, I hear footsteps on the stairs. It's him, thank goodness.
"Hey, anything from Amy?" he asked, raking a hand through his hair.
"I left messages for her everywhere for her to come see you." Much as I despised the task, I did it for him. He's got a blind spot where she's concerned, although I think certain things are finally starting to come into view.
"Okay..." he said wearily.
"This isn't about the dead fish." I hope he takes the hint and fills me in.
"Not exactly, no," he admitted. The urge to hug him was strong, but we weren't in the right place.
"What happened?"
"I think she's been fired. She thinks so...I kinda unloaded on her."
As well he should. He was absolutely right about her. But...
"Josh she's..." What was I doing? Was I about to defend her? No, not so much defend her as be sympathetic to his feelings for her, which I never understood, by the way.
"She'll be..." He twirled around, a little unsettled about it. "I don't know what she'll be."
"Find her." Did I really just suggest that? Yes; yes, I did...for Josh's sake, not hers. "Forget about budget bills, polling samples, and missile launchers. Go find her."
He'd be guilt ridden if he didn't—that's the only reason I suggested it.
"What else have I got?" he asked. I told you, the man is his job.
"Carrick's in the Roosevelt Room," I told him.
"Chris Carrick's here? Now?"
I nodded and he headed in that direction.
****
I sent Margaret to find Josh.
The whale cake was awesome. I lit a handful of candles.
The door opened and we all yelled happy birthday. My smile faded quickly when I saw his face.
Damn. The thing with Carrick had gone to hell in a hand basket. I moved to him, offering a smile.
"I'm here," I said through my teeth. "Smile."
He forced a grimace I'm sure fooled no one.
"How could you?" he asked for my ears only as he reached out to shake the president's hand, and then Leo's.
Carol, Kathy, Ginger, and Bonnie all hugged him. Toby came forward.
"Sam sends his regards," Toby said.
Sam had sent Josh a personal e-mail earlier in the day.
He greeted everyone on autopilot, and they could tell something had happened. The junior assistants and staffers grabbed their pieces of cake and disappeared.
When it was just the president, Toby, Leo, C.J., Josh, and myself, I headed for the door.
I pointed out the door and mouthed, "I'll be ri—"
There was something in his eyes that stopped me cold. He wasn't a coward, but he was begging for moral support. For one person to not be totally pissed at him. I was that person. And unless he killed my cat, I'd always be that person.
I closed the door and just stood next to it, my hands clasped in front of me.
He drew in a breath and then confessed that Carrick had called his bluff and had resigned from the Democratic Party.
Leo went ballistic and I saw Josh flinch. It was so slight; I was probably the only one who saw it. Plus everyone else was looking at Leo. I had eyes only for Josh.
The president had a few choice words to say, but Toby and C.J. took it in stride. It's not that they didn't care, or that they didn't understand the magnitude of situation, but they'd both committed their fair share of blunders.
Good, he had three people who were not totally pissed at him. That was good 'cause he was going to need us for however long his punishment lasted. And there was going to be punishment. It was too serious. I knew it, and so did he.
"Go home, Josh," Leo finally ordered none too nicely.
Josh turned and walked toward me. I pulled open the door and then followed him. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets—a sure sign he was feeling low.
"You couldn't have known," I said softly.
"Yeah," he said, his voice forlorn. My heart was breaking.
I deposited him at his office door. "Don't leave without me."
He nodded, looking blankly at me, and dropped into his chair.
****
An hour later, after getting waylaid by C.J. and collecting up the few gifts he'd been given, I made my way back to my cubicle. I stuffed the gifts in a drawer. He'd probably appreciate them more later, when he wasn't so wounded.
I rapped softly on the doorjamb before entering. His feet were up, his head was back, and his eyes were closed. He peeked an eye at me.
"Let's go home," I said.
Once we cleared the White House gate, I sidled up to him and hugged his arm. "My place or yours?"
Yes, sometimes we made love. Not often, but sometimes. And if tonight wasn't a night when comfort sex was called for, then my name wasn't Donnatella Moss.
"I don't know, Donna, I'm not really in the mood...."
"I know. It's okay; we'll just sleep."
Yeah, right. Not that I was going to jump him or anything, but let me tell you, comfort sex with Josh was the most amazing thing. Because he wanted to obliterate from his mind whatever it was he needed comfort for, he tended to focus solely on the woman. I wasn't passing up the opportunity if I could help it.
"Okay," he said. He was still pretty drained.
Twenty minutes later we were at his place. He offered me a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and we climbed into his king size bed.
Snuggling up to him, I rested my head on his chest. "I'm sorry about Amy."
"Really?" he asked. I could hear the hope and the surprise.
"I'm sorry she used you and that you're hurt. But am I sorry your relationship seems broken beyond repair? No, not so much." On the way home, he told me about seeing Amy leave as he met with Carrick.
"Oh...tell me how you really feel." That sounded more like the Josh I knew and loved.
His heart thumped under my ear. "I love that sound," I murmured.
"The clock ticking?"
The clock was the only external sound in his whole apartment.
"No, your heartbeat."
"Why?"
"It means you're still alive and no matter what happens on Monday, that's the most important thing."
"I love you, Donna."
"I love you, too, Josh."
I twisted up and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth.
He tightened his hold on me and turned his head to kiss me again, more fully this time.
With great finesse he shifted our positions so that I was on my back and he was on his side, flush against me. And we kissed again and again. Deep, delicious kisses. Necking, I think it used to be called.
He kneaded my breasts, occasionally moving to nibble them through the thin fabric. His hot moist breath sent desire racing from one end of me to the other. I tingled everywhere. Desire flooded me.
I longed to feel his hands against my skin.
His erection grew against my hip.
"Donna," he whispered. "I think I've changed my mind."
Now, why wasn't I surprised?
"I know, Josh," I said. It was time to take care of the constituency of one that mattered the most to me.
~Fin~