Disclaimer: Not mine, I just like to let them out to play occasionally
Notes: **italics, hopefully** denotes dreams and 'single quotes around hopefully italicized words' denote quoted thoughts.
Timeframe: Post-episode to Evidence Of Things Not Seen
Pairing: Donna and Josh
Rating: PG-13
Bullets And Blondes
By
Lattelady
SUNDAY MORNING 3 AM
The man tossed in his sleep. It'd been months since he'd had the dream, but he could feel his subconscious mind begin to travel down the familiar path. His body broke out in a sweat and he turned over restlessly as his eyes moved faster and faster behind closed lids in full-blown REM sleep. But no matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn't outrun the dream.
**Then he was there, back in Rosslyn, Virginia, on the ground looking through the metal bars of a fence, as all hell broke loose. Shots rang out and cars came squealing to a halt, but that's when everything changed. Instead of feeling a bullet pound him in the chest, and warm blood begin to soak his shirt, he was frozen in place, a helpless spectator to a play he would take no part in.
The car that pulled up wasn't the President's limousine, it was a black 1935 Roadster and amid all the chaos of running secret service men and crying people, the door opened and out stepped Donna Moss. But she looked like a Donna he'd never seen before. She was wearing a slinky satin dress with a large feather boa. Her appearance was straight out of an old Bogart movie.
From behind his fence he tried desperately to cry out to her, to tell her to get back in the car, drive away, be safe, but his vocal cords were frozen. All he could do was sit and watch. When she stepped away from the car, he saw a bullet move in slow motion through the air. It moved so slowly that his dream-enhanced vision allowed him to read her name etched on the casing. He felt the cold metal bars dig deep into his palms, as he gripped them and tried to scream out a warning, but no sound left his throat. To his horror, the bullet found its target, deep in her chest, the impact making her convulse. Then she was struck again, causing her to stumble, and sink slowly to the ground. The front of her ivory gown was covered in red red blood. Over all the noise he heard her whisper his name one last time, as her eyes glazed over and the warm light in them was extinguished forever.**
"Donnaaa!" Josh Lyman screamed himself awake. Sitting on the side of his bed in a sweat-dampened Harvard t-shirt, he automatically grabbed for his phone and hit speed-dial 1 before he was awake enough to realize what he was doing.
"Josh Lyman's off….No wait, that's so wrong." Donna purred as she tried to open her eyes.
"I…ahh…" He blinked and ran his hand through his hair. Calling her had been pure instinct, now he wasn't sure what he could say that wouldn't upset her and bring her running to him.
"Josh, it's 3 in the morning." She stumbled over the words, her voice husky from sleep as she fought to orient herself.
"I just…I wanted to make sure…" Blood pounded in his ears and he had trouble catching his breath.
"Are you all right?" She recognized the signs of a PTSD nightmare, and the adrenaline rush it caused sent her flying out of bed. "You had the dream again! Are you alone?"
"It's all right…go back to sleep…" His voice trailed away and he rubbed his face in his hand.
"You're not alone…" Donna squeaked at the implication and it brought tears to her eyes.
"Donnaaa," he yelped. "What a thing to ask." He thought since the night of the Inaugural Ball, things had been different for them. Didn't she know, couldn't she see…How could she have asked such a question? Had he been reading her wrong all these weeks?
"Well are you or aren't you?" She closed her eyes and prepared to hear the worst.
"I'm alone," he whispered, suddenly feeling more alone than he had in a long time.
"I'm coming over."
"No, wait, it wasn't the dream, really." He hadn't lied to her; it wasn't the dream, but a whole new version of it. One he found more frightening than he could ever imagine.
"Josh!" Her eyes filled with tears as she heard the pain and fear in his voice, but she couldn't figure out why he wasn't telling her the truth. In the past when he'd waken in a cold sweat from reliving the events of the shooting at Rosslyn, he'd called her and she'd gone over and held him until morning and daylight had brought the return of sanity. Since Amy Gardner was back in the White House, working for the First Lady, their relationship was strained, and things were different, Donna supposed it was Amy who held him now, but why wasn't she there and why had he called her instead of Amy?
"I really am alright…really. It was just a combination of too much chili and Film Noir." Saturday night had been another one of President Bartlet's chili nights, followed by a showing of Casablanca, so the excuse sounded plausible. Josh took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, in an attempt to keep his voice from cracking. He'd made her cry; he could hear it. If she were within fifty feet of him he knew that she'd be in his arms and it wouldn't stop there, especially since the letter on Thursday. "You go back to sleep, I'll pick you up in time to prep for the noon meeting, as planned."
"But?"
"Donna, you're not going out alone at this time of night. Do you understand me?" The thought of her on the streets, in the dark, made his blood run cold.
"For goodness sakes, Josh, I'm safe, Ron Butterfield said so. If you need me, I can be there in minutes." Ever since she'd received a death threat three days earlier, he'd been overly protective. At first Donna had found it endearing, but it was becoming a pain.
"I'm fine." Then he did the only thing he could think of to keep her safe, he lied to her. "Besides I uh….I hit the wrong speed-dial, that's all, I was calling someone else."
"Oh, well then, I won't keep you from your other call any longer." Donna knew she didn't have good control of her breathing and prayed that she could end the conversation before the tears running down her face showed in her voice. It was clear he'd been about to call Amy, instead of her. "Good-night, Joshua."
"Donna…" He called out but he wasn't quick enough, the sound of the breaking connection echoed in his ear as her name left his lips.
"Damn, damn, damn," he muttered as he flopped back on his bed, flipped his phone closed and tossed it across the room. Fear gnawed at him, and he knew the only way he was going to get back to sleep, was if he got to the bottom of it. For now, Donna was safe. She was angry, and his lie had hurt her, but he'd deal with that in the morning, when he picked her up. 'How could I dream that?' He asked himself as he stared at the ceiling digging for answers. 'I never dream about Donna.'
"Boy that was a lie," he shook his head trying to erase the bloody images that still lingered. He'd dreamt about her hundreds of times, but they'd never been like that. In his dreams she was always safe in his arms, usually snug beneath him, her pale limbs intertwined with his. "Don't go there Lyman." He warned.
Donna Moss had always been able to make his hormones sit up and take notice, but that wasn't why he'd hired her. In fact it was the reason he'd tried so hard not to hire her. He could still picture her as he'd first seen her, in the Manchester, New Hampshire office of Bartlet For America. He'd just come from getting chewed out by Governor Bartlet, for about the tenth time in as many days. He rounded the corner to his office, and there she was. She'd been half turned, talking on his phone; her white blonde hair had brushed her shoulders and all he'd been able to do was look. She was everything he'd dreamed of in a woman, slim, long legged, and from what he'd heard of her conversation; she had a head on her shoulders. When she'd turned and smiled at him, he'd felt a surge of heat that made his head swim. But Josh Lyman was a political operative of the first degree. He knew when, and when not, to pay attention to his hormones.
He'd brought her onboard as a volunteer and made sure she became a staffer as soon as the budget allowed. They had a White House to win and it had been easy to keep a tight reign on his testosterone when he stayed focused on that goal. Then as working together for long hours became the norm, they developed a unique word play, which acted as a pressure valve to keep his libido in check.
That had all started to change on a cold night in January, a few weeks ago, when he found himself throwing snowballs at her window and grinning like a twelve-year old school boy. The thump of each well-packed ball of snow bouncing against glass had sounded strangely like the beating of his heart. It had created a tune that he'd been marching to ever since. Then three days ago something happened and for the first time in six years he was forced to look carefully at Ms Donnatella Moss and the part she played in his life.
THRUSDAY 10:00 AM, THREE DAYS EALIER:
Josh strolled through the West Wing as if he owned it, because it was one of those days when it felt as if he did. He'd spent most of the morning on the Hill, nailing down the last two votes on a piece of crucial legislation and he wanted to gloat.
"Donnaaa," he called out. "Donnatella Moss, where are you?" Before he was able to launch into a new version of his triumphant warrior speech, which he'd been practicing, on the drive over, his world came to a screeching halt!
"Josh, she isn't here." Ginger called out.
"What do you mean she isn't here? It's way too early for…" Something was wrong he could tell by the serious expression on the red head's face. He hoped that if he kept talking it would keep the feelings of doubt and fear from welling up inside of him. "It's way too early for lunch. And there aren't any local gomers cruising the scene, so she can't be…"
"She went off with Ron Butterfield about twenty minutes ago." Ginger frowned, unsure of what was going on. "She asked me to cover her desk. You weren't expected back for at least another hour."
"Yeah, right, okay." He dropped his backpack and slipped out of his overcoat, unable to stand the sympathy in the deep brown eyes that watched him. "Here you take care of these. I'll be in Ron's office if anyone needs me."
Josh headed for the basement office of the Head Of Security of the White House. He didn't recognize the agent who was standing in the half-opened door, taking orders from the man on the other side, but he obviously knew who Josh was, because he stepped aside and let him pass without an argument. One look around the room, told him what ever had happened wasn't good. Donna was sitting across from Butterfield, looking wide-eyed, and pale. She was deep in conversation with him, and didn't realize her boss had joined them.
"Okay, what's going on here?" Josh looked from Donna's startled face to Ron's stern one.
"What are you doing here?" She blinked and tried to gain some control over her features.
"I work here, remember." He moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders in a show of support.
"Not in the basement you don't." She was worried about him and didn't want him to know about the letter she'd received. "Besides, you've got to prep for your meeting with...."
"I can do it later." He cut her off before she could argue any more. "You're my assistant and anything that concerns you, concerns me." He could feel her muscles tighten under his hands. 'What's she trying to hide from me?' "Ron, what's this all about?"
"We've had an incident." The tall slim man nodded toward a document in a clear sealed packet, on the desk, and looked even sterner if that was possible.
"Whatever it is, I'm sure Donna didn't do it." Josh tried to ward off the bad feeling that was creeping over him, by joking. "I mean, after all she's from Wisconsin."
"We don't suspect Ms Moss of anything, quite the contrary, this was in her morning mail." The secret service man picked up the packet and handed it to Josh. "You can go ahead and handle it, we've already lifted any prints we're going to get from it."
"It's nothing really." Donna tried to intercept the document, but ended up with Josh's hand covering hers, both of them holding the letter.
"Please," he whispered to her. "Let me see it." He could tell that she was panicked and frightened, but he couldn't help her if he didn't know what was causing it.
"All right," she nodded her head and shivered as he ran his hand up and down her shoulder while he read.
Donna Moss,
After seein your picher in the paper, with all them lily livered liberals that infest the White House now days, I wanted ya to know I'm collectin all the guns you banned and there is a bullet with your name on it, in each one. I hope that makes you sleep real good at night, cause it does me.
The contents of the unsigned letter make him sick to his stomach. He read it though twice carefully before he trusted himself to speak.
"What kind of sick idiot would send something like this to Donna?" He glared at the secret service man. "My God, she doesn't make policy or law, she's my assistant!"
"From the sound of the note, it isn't anything personal." Butterfield shrugged and explained again, what he'd just finished explaining to Donna. "The wording indicates…"
"You don't think it's personal? How much more personal can a threat to shoot you get?" Josh stretched his neck from side to side in an attempt to relax the tightening muscles, which were triggered by a brass quintet playing The First Noel, whispering from his soul. He took a deep breath and drowned out the music from within. He refused to lose control, Donna was being threatened, and he didn't have time for a bout of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!
"Please sit down and listen to what Ron has to say." Donna looked up over her shoulder, and read his body language. He was fighting a battle with his own demons, and she hated it. That's why she'd gone to Butterfield in secrecy. She'd hoped that her boss wouldn't have to know anything about the letter until after it was all over.
"Donna…." Her name caught in his throat when he looked down and his eyes met large damp blue ones. "Alright I'll listen, but from here." He handed the letter back to the secret service man, and put his free hand back on her other shoulder, while he moved a step closer to her chair. As long as he could feel the warmth of her beneath his palms, he knew she was safe. "Sorry Ron. You were saying?"
"The letter sounds as if it was written in anger, with Donna as the focal point. The threat is an implied one, almost as if he or she wants to frighten rather than really hurt." Ron watched with interest, as Josh seemed to surround Donna, who had become silent and withdrawn the moment the younger man had entered the office, where moments earlier she'd been calmly discussing the letter and what was to be done about it. To his trained eye, it appeared as if the Deputy Chief Of Staff was trying to place his body between his assistant and any harm that might come her way, while she was trying to place an emotional barrier between her boss, and anything that might bring back memories of the shooting at Rosslyn.
"How can you be sure of that?" Josh didn't like the sound of what he heard. "You're taking it seriously, aren't you?"
"We take all threats to White House personnel, whether overt or implied, very seriously. We're running the prints we found through national files and we've pulled all the press releases for the last two months that contain a picture of Ms Moss."
"Will you be assigning her an agent?" Josh kept digging. He needed to know that Donna would be safe.
"Not for the time being, but I don't want her leaving the West Wing for any reason, until we finish running the prints, and see what we can come up with." Ron gave Josh a thumbnail sketch of his plans. "If by the time Donna is to leave tonight we don't have any clear answers, I'll have someone accompany her."
"There's nothing secure about her apartment. She should spend the night at my condo…."
"Will you two stop taking about me as if I'm not in the room!" Donna's eyes flashed as she glared at Ron Butterfield and wiggled free of Josh's hands holding her in place in her seat. "I have a say in this, too." She took a deep breath as she stood and faced the men.
"But…" The second she pulled away from him, Josh had to fight to keep the music in his head from taking control.
"No!" Donna read the stress on his face and it broke her heart. "All three of us have work to do, and I suggest we get back to it." She turned and forced herself to smile at the Chief Of White House Security. "I appreciate your help in this matter, and assume you'll keep me posted as the day progresses."
"You have my assurance on that. Just remember don't leave the building unless you're accompanied by one of my people."
"She won't, I'll see to that." Josh cut in. "And she's coming home with me if this isn't resolved by tonight…."
"No!" Donna was fighting the urge to cry and needed to get out of Ron's office, but couldn't leave this hanging. "That would be wrong on so many levels," she whispered. Then turned to Butterfield knowing if she were facing Josh, he'd be able to read the lie in her next statement. "Besides, I'd feel safer at my own apartment."
The office was so quiet both men heard the click of Donna's heels as she quickly left the room. Josh was having trouble breathing as if she'd taken the oxygen out of the room when she left. "Well I guess that puts me in my place," he muttered as he turned to follow her.
"Josh, wait," Ron called to him. "Give her some time, she's frightened, and worried about you."
"Well damnit, she shouldn't be a target like this, she's my assistant…" He stopped short, when he realized what Butterfield had said. "Worried about me? Why? Well, yeah…but, that's not the point. She's just one of thousands of people who work here. Serving your country shouldn't make you the target of crazy people."
"No it shouldn't, and in this case, I think we'll find that it's only a small part of it." Ron leaned back his chair, with his hands behind his head. "I think the guy who wrote this focused on her because she's a young woman who probably looks like someone he was unable to control, so he's trying to control Donna by threats. The fact that Ms Moss works for an administration which is probably politically different from his, and he believes she may have some power in that structure, is an added bonus."
SUNDAY MORNING 3:15 AMDonna Moss was curled up in her favorite chair, sipping herbal tea, in hope it would help her relax. Every since Josh's call had woken her from a sound sleep fifteen minutes earlier, it felt as if someone was doing somersaults in her stomach. It took all her effort to keep from picturing him calling Amy, and the dark haired woman rushing to his side to help drive away the night terrors that had begun to haunt him again.
Donna pulled her blue pashmina shawl closer around her shoulders as if it were protection against the pain that welled up in her. With a half smile, she sighed and enjoyed its added warmth. Her building was an old one and there had been problems with the boiler all winter, plus the last three days at work had been unusually stressful. For some reason, when she was worried, or felt bad, she always got cold.
It had started with the threatening letter she'd received on Thursday. No matter how hard she'd tried, she hadn't been able to keep Josh from finding out about it. She saw immediately that it brought back memories of when he was shot. Though the letter had turned out to be nothing. An angry old man who didn't know her, or anyone she knew had sent it. He'd focused his anger at women in general, and his ex-wife in particular on Donna. Both Ron Butterfield and the psychiatric expert, who had been called in, agreed that the letter had been a way to feel in control and that there was no danger to anyone.
There may not have been any physical danger, but Donna could tell harm was done to Josh Lyman. He had been skittish and was treating her strangely ever since. It only got worse the next evening when someone took three shots at the White House with a modified M-16. The bullets had hit the Press Room.
FRIDAY NIGHT 9:23 AND 30 SECONDS
Donna looked up from her desk at the sound of pounding feet as Dave Keller, rounded the corner, talking frantically into his wrist mike. "Rolling Stone is secure."
"Dave, what happened?"
"Stay seated Ms Moss. Mr. Butterfield has assigned me to you until we're sure the building hasn't been breached."
"Please Dave, tell me what's going on?" Donna watched him check into all the nooks and crannies of the cubicles around hers. "Does this have anything to do with the letter from yesterday? Because Ron said that was all cleared up…"
"Why don't we move in here," he nodded toward Josh's office door. Unlike the open cubicles, the office behind them had bulletproof glass and paneling, but he double-checked the blinds to make sure they were tightly closed, anyway.
"Please, what's happened?" Donna whispered as she fought fear and tears at the same time. She'd seen agents secure the building a number of times, but this was the first time she'd been assigned one when it happened.
"Someone fired at the Press Room."
"Oh my God!" With a sigh of relief, she realized the room would be empty at this time of night, and the President was safe in his office. "Is Mr. Lyman still in the Roosevelt Room?" She did quick calculations, but was unable to decide if he would have been able to hear the shots from there or not. It was evident from the stony expression on Dave Keller's face that she'd gotten all the information out of him that she was going to.
"Ms Moss why don't you sit down, this may take a few minutes." Secret service was used to politely stating orders in the form of questions, but they weren't used to them being ignored.
"No, I have to get to the Roosevelt Room." Donna swung around and headed for the door.
"Don't make me restrain you." He blocked her path as she tried to push past him.
"Dave, you were at Rosslyn." She bit her lip as she remembered he was the agent who had identified her and escorted her to the waiting room at GW hospital. "You know why I need to get down there."
"I still can't let you through, not after yesterday, but you sit down and I'll see what information I can get." Not taking any chances, he closed the door and leaned against it, as he spoke into his wrist microphone, while not taking his eyes off the blonde woman who looked like she would bolt if given the smallest chance.
Donna's mind worked frantically, ignoring Dave and his whispered conversation. Check on Josh…Call Stanley Keyworth….was his number still on her cell? Strike that. She didn't need an electronic reminder. That was one number she knew by heart…Check on Josh. Call Stanley, no matter how late this whole this ends…Check on Josh.
"Ms Moss, they've just crashed the West Wing, we've got a lockdown situation. Until the building is secured, everyone must remain where they are." He saw her about to leap out of her chair and took a step in her direction. "I just talked with Jeff Peterson, the agent outside the Roosevelt Room and he reports that Mr. Lyman is still in his meeting."
"Do you think he heard the shots?"
"They were fired from Pennsylvania Avenue, so I doubt it, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Dave." 'Oh yes, Josh was going to talk to Stanley tonight, no matter what.'
SUNDAY MORNING 3:30 AM"Donna, let me in!" Josh called as he pounded on the door to her apartment. The key she had given him opened the front door and her apartment door, but she had the chain on. "Donnaaa, if you don't' let me in, I'll break the chain."
"Keep your voice down." She fumbled with the door and finally got it open. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to call Amy."
"I lied!" He felt a moment of dizziness, when he followed her into the room and realized what she was wearing. Her soft creamy robe looked like it was made of the same material as the dress in his dream, but instead of a white feather boa, she had the shawl he'd given her for Christmas wrapped around her shoulders.
"Why did you lie to me?" She turned toward him, shock and hurt written on her face.
"I never said I was going to call Amy, just someone else." A smile broke out on his face. She was jealous; maybe he hadn't been reading her wrong all these weeks.
"So why did you lie? You had the dream again and you wouldn't let me help you?" She turned away, with her arms wrapped around her body.
"Come back here." He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. "It wasn't the same dream…"
"But you were afraid, I could tell, I heard it in your voice." She stopped for a breath, her emotions close to the surface. "Why wouldn't you let me help you?"
He smiled down at her. Her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, with strands brushing against her cheeks. The expression on her face was the same one as when she had finally been able to talk to him after the lockdown on Friday: frighten and vulnerable. He did what he'd wanted to do then, but couldn't because there had been too many people around. He gently brushed her hair back behind her ears.
"Please don't," she whispered. She shivered at his touch and knew he felt it. Donna was sick to death of hiding her feelings for Josh, and it took all her willpower to keep from leaning against him.
"The dream was different, I wasn't the one shot. I dreamt you were!" His voice was hoarse and he gripped her shoulders tighter. "You were shot in front of my eyes and there was nothing I could do about it, but watch, as you lay dying in a pool of blood."
"Oh God, I'm sorry." She gulped as she fisted her hand and covered her mouth. "I didn't want you to know about the letter, and then after Friday night…."
"No!" Josh shouted and gave her a slight shake. "You're missing the point. My God, what do you think I am, some fragile piece of glass that's going to break at the slightest little thing?"
"Guns, gunshots, Christmas music…" She tried to interrupt but he wouldn't let her.
"None of that matters, don't you get it? I wasn't upset for me! I was frightened to death for you! They can blast The First Noel in my ear and accompany it with a 21-gun salute, but it wouldn't make a difference if you were involved. Nothing! Nothing would keep me from making sure you're safe. And that includes spending a sleepless night or two, in order keep you from going out alone at 3 in the morning."
"Oh Josh," tears made her eyes glisten and her lip quiver. "I didn't know, I never knew."
"Come here," he wrapped his arms around her and put her head on his shoulder. "You've been hanging tough for me for almost four years, don't you think it's my turn to take over for a while? I promise I'm strong enough to hold us both together." He kissed the top of her head and cheek, as he walked them over to her couch; where he sat and pulled her down on his lap.
"I've been so frightened since that letter came, and there was nobody I could talk to about it."
"I know, and it infuriated me that you didn't think I'd be able to handle something like that." He sighed as he ran his hand through her hair.
"How did you know?" She looked up at him from the crook of his arm, feeling warm and safe for the first time since Thursday.
"Stanley Keyworth," he smiled at her. "You talked to him at length before I did, remember. He told me one other thing as well." Tonight was the night for truths, even if it meant Donna would leave him, but he had a lot of faith in Stanley's perceptions, and there was nothing left to lose. "He said that I should tell you the truth about how I really feel, before I tear us apart."
"What do you mean?" She was never sure if she really asked the question or if it only echoed in her mind.
"That I love you, and have for a long time."
"Oh Josh," she whispered. "I always hoped, but I never knew…that long night when I waited to hear if you'd live or die…I realized then…but I never knew…I was afraid I'd have to settle for just your friendship…all the while loving you and…and…"
"Shhhh, it's all right, we've finally gotten it straightened out." He rocked her as she cried; humbled that he'd hurt the lovely gentle woman in his arms.
SUNDAY MORNING 8:30 AM
Donna Moss woke up to the gentle rhythm of Josh Lyman's heart beating under her ear. "I didn't dream it!" She yawned as she realized that everything that had happened the night before had been real.
"No, but I have, many times." He rolled her under him and nipped at her ear. "Unfortunately, unlike this morning, the dream never lasted after I open my eyes."
"Oh so you've been having lurid dreams about your assistant, have you?" She chuckled and kissed him on the chin.
"Very much so, but nothing compared to the real thing." Suddenly he turned serious as he held her close. "I think it was because I never realized how important a component love was to the whole equation. I really do love you."
"Joshua, I think that may be why they call it 'making love.'" She held him close, never wanting to let him go.
"Good point, and since it is such a good point." He sighed as he grew suddenly shy. "Will you marry me Donna ?"
"Oh yes I'll marry you Josh Lyman!" She laughed as she kissed him.
THE END
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