Donnatella Moss: The Edge of Insanity
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, plots, dialogue, tables, chairs, coffee mugs, salad forks, swimming pools, or rugs from The West Wing. So if you're looking for a nice presidential manila folder, you're going to have to go beg Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, and NBC. And if you don't return it in the same condition, those damn Warner Brothers will come around and break both your legs. And I still don't own any of Bridget Jones' stuff either. But then, Helen Fielding is much nicer about it than they are. Probably an English thing.
Category: Josh/Donna
Rating: PG
Archiving: But of course. So long as you tell me where I can visit them.
Feedback: A must! The perfect accessory to any story!
Author's Note: Many reviews later, a relatively new fanfic author sighs and then, returning to her keyboard, proclaims: "The story must go on!" Hence, here it is: the sequel to my other fic "Donnatella's Diary." It takes place a little under a week after that story ends- also takes place directly after the episode The Fall's Going to Kill You. Let's just pretend that all that happened on this particular Thursday and goes on from there, shall we?
Spoilers: The Fall's Going to Kill You and pretty much every J/D scene in every episode before that one.
Thursday, April 13, 10:02 pm
Number of people have informed about crashing satellite 189. Number of people showing the proper degree of concern 0. Number of times have been mocked today 189. Number of people who should be hit by flaming chunk of metal careening to Earth at phenomenal speed 189.No one is listening to me today. I mean, they're listening and obviously they have the capacity to understand what I'm saying, cuz you have to have a certain degree of intelligence to work in the West Wing but they're not listening to me. I mean, for God's sake, there's this huge ass satellite that could come down anywhere at anytime, possibly setting off a nuclear reaction and killing off a vast number of people and all I get are raised eyebrows and scoffs.
I mean, really. How can the severity of this situation escape them?
The President should know about this. He should do something. The leader of the free world should take some action so that when the shit hits the fan, our bases are covered.
Too many cliches in a row there. Gotta stop that. Diarists are unique and literary and certainly don't employ banal aphorisms and mixed metaphors. We're better than that.
I wonder if the thing went nuclear in Washington if they would let me go underground with the President. I am the Deputy-Deputy Chief of Staff (as well as being undiscovered top-notch diarist). That's got to count for something. Protection from radiation at least. Have to have someone around to keep Josh in line. Cuz Leo would bail out after 5 minutes.
Where the hell is Josh? Must ask him if I am part of select few who will be taken to bomb shelter.
Damn. Not in his office. Maybe he's bugging Sam.
10:12 pm
Went to Sam's office. He's not there. Toby's in and since he's been yelling at people lately for no apparent reason (more than usual that is) I'm just going to keep looking elsewhere.
Though I should remind myself to warn him about the satellite tomorrow. Or maybe I'll just send him a note. Less painful. Margaret is still wary of him after the whole muffin mocking incident. At least I'm not bad, right?
Maybe Josh's talking to CJ.
10:15 pm
Double damn. Not there either. Nobody's here. Maybe I should leave.
But then Josh will be looking for me, and he'll need something and he won't be able to find it and I will get home and find 10 messages on my machine and/or a very angry Candi screaming "CALL YOUR FRIGGIN' BOSS NOW!"
Yeah. I should just stay till he gets back from wherever.
10:20 pm
Rearranged my paper clips. Now in color coded order. Still no sign of Josh.
10:23 pm
Lost a game of solitaire. This sucks.
10:25 pm
Won a game of solitaire. This doesn't suck as much but it still is pretty unbearable.
10:26 pm
Had epiphany! Will look for Josh out his office window.
10:27 pm
Have looked out Josh's window and have not seen Josh. In fact, cannot see much of anything at all as is very very dark out. Think I will sit down.
Josh has a very comfortable chair. I want a chair like this. It's big and soft and has wheels and smells like Josh. Oooooh.
Stop it Donnatella! This is work. Must have work like, professional thoughts.
Can't come up with any. Hmmmm chair can spin.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeee
"Donna?"
GAAAAAAAAAAH! How did he get back without me noticing? Damn damn damn, if only he would stop moving erratically up and down I would be able to articulate a witty reply. Instead pull a gaping fish mouth on him. Way to go, me.
"Were you just spinning in my chair just now?"
"Where did you go?"
"Huh? Iwalked CJ out. Why the hell were you spinning in my chair?"
Walked CJ out? Oh, we are soooo talking about that one later.
"I was looking out the window for you."
"It's pitch black out."
"Yeah."
"And you thought you could see me out the window?"
"I have good night vision."
"So you were looking out the window for me and then decided to play teacups with my chair?"
"Teacups?"
"With my chair."
"You have to learn how to have more fun, Joshua."
"Cuz it's the end of the world right?" Big Lyman grin as he reclaims his chair. He's mocking me now. Bastard. If only he didn't look so good doing it.
"It's all fun and games until a big hunk of metal smashes your car into bits upon re-entry."
"Donna-"
"And oh boy, we'll see who's laughing then."
"Donna-"
"Me. Laughing. At you. And then maybe, you won't be so quick to scoff at others. A little lesson for Josh Lyman courtesy of Fate."
"Fate's going to give me a lesson?"
"Yessirreebob."
"Okay, Donna? Let's not use phrases like yessirreebob' unless like, we have to shuck corn in the barn with our half-cousins okay?"
"That's why Fate is going to give you a lesson."
"Because of corn?"
"No, because you mock people."
"But it's the only thing I'm good at."
"Besides whining."
"I do not whine."
"Josh? What are you doing right now?"
"Wondering why you still haven't given me a straight answer about my chair."
"No, you're whining."
"Coulda fooled me."
"Apparently, just did."
"Are you going to tell me why you were spinning in my chair or do I need to get the special equipment?" Oh god, here we go again.
"Josh, you don't have any special equipment."
"I have various types of special equipment."
"Where?"
"Here. Uhin my desk."
"Josh, first of all, don't you think I would know every inch of this office like the back of my hand? And secondly, don't you think it's unwise to keep that kind of thing at work?"
"You never know when you might need it."
"Well, aren't you the Boy Scout."
He salutes. Goddamn, he can be cute when he wants to be. He begins to shuffle his papers around and asks me about where the Firworth file is. After some very business like rearranging and scheduling, he sits back in his chair and sighs. He looks really tired. In fact, all this week he's looked tired. So has Toby. And Leo. And CJ looked like she was going to throw up all day.
"You should go home and get some sleep." He has a delicate system. He likes to think that he's still a frat boy and can stay up all night for many days in a row. He can be quite stupid sometimes. Still love him though. Hence the solicitious reminder.
"Nah. Got some work to do for tomorrow." Weak smile. The Lyman I-grin-and-bear-it-cuz-I-can-handle-anything-I-am-*that*-good weak smile.
"And you should do it tomorrow and go home and rest now."
"Yes, Mama."
"I mean it, Josh."
"Yeah." As I'm at the door, he adds, "Donna? About the thing? It's really a routine. Every ten days there's some satellite or whatever crashing to Earth that one government or another sent up there. Don't sweat it, okay?"
"Every ten days huh?"
"Yep. And approximately 17,000 since we began sending things up there."
"Approximately."
"Yeah."
"And no one, like, thinks this is a serious problem that we can't seem to keep these things up there in space where they belong?"
"Uhno. But they're working on it."
"Meanwhile, I could be pulverized by a two ton chunk of satellite."
"We get almost that exact same memo all the time. It's like a running gag."
"And like a running gag, it is not funny."
"You'll live to see another day, Donnatella."
"Yep."
"Kay. I justthought you should know."
"Yeah, though like telling me this hours ago would have killed you?"
"It was cute." What did he just say???
"What?"
"Cute, your whole, the sky is falling routine all day."
"Well, I just live for your amusement, Josh. Tomorrow, my talent will be twirling batons."
"Oooh, that's nice. Will you wear the short little sequined skirt that matches them?"
"No, because you called me Chicken Little."
"I did not call you Chicken Little."
"You implied it."
"What about the top?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Josh, I'm going home now."
"Fine. See you tomorrow then."
"If you haven't been crushed by a falling satellite."
"Don-naaaaa.!"
"Bye, Josh." I am gone. Always nice to get the last word. Always.
11:59 pm
Bantering was nice today. Felt good after a long day of anxiety. Yet something is still bugging me. Generally, when I get like that there are witty replies and guffaws and humiliation office wide at the instigation of the senior staff. Today- nothing. It was really weird. And everyone still looks tired. I'd say there was something in the water then I'm pretty sure I would be affected. And Margaret. And Ginger and Bonnie. All of whom were the only normal people I've talked to today.
DAMN! Forgot to ask him about the whole CJ —walking-out thingy. Definitely tomorrow.
I'm not worried. Why you ask? Because he knows I like him and I know that he likes me and even though we haven't said anything about it since the Sculpture Garden epiphany, as I like to call it, it's out there. I haven't gone on a date since. And neither has he.
Our banter is more flirty. Can we all say, "special equipment"?
We definitely have a thing. Never verbally acknowledged but it's there and we know it. It's a very warm-fuzzy thought.
It means that one of these days he's going to break down and take me to Hawaii. I'm thinking, the honeymoon. But I'll settle for a business trip. Traveling at the government's expense has never hurt anybody.
I just wish that I didn't have this feeling like the sky was going to cave in- and I'm not talking about the stupid satellite anymore. It's like a foreboding. A really ominous foreboding that gothic heroines get before their house burns down or the family ghost appears in the attic.
I hope Josh gets some sleep tonight cuz tomorrow I think we ought to outdo ourselves on the verbal sparring. Lighten the mood. Get the juices flowing. Wake people up.
It's for the country's own good.
God Bless America.