A/N: This was something I really wanted to write a long time ago. And it should have been this huge AU-story, beginning with Donna working for Toby during the first Bartlet for America campaign. And although I didn't write the huge AU-fic the idea didn't want to leave me alone so here it is, canon as it gets. With a twist. :) Tell me what you think, reviews make my day.

Doomed

I walked into this campaign office and it took control of me. Honestly. I know that I swore myself that I'd never lose myself in something that I can't leave immediately but this is so exciting. Also, it's not a man. It's a thing. Well put, Donna, I chastised myself as I venture on. There are two tall women at the water dispenser. They are pretty tall but that's really a relief. I hate when I'm the tallest in the room. This place just gets better and better.

I try no to look like I just walked into the office right from the street, and I'm glad that no one seems to notice. They are pretty busy; some of them seem to be packing. Maybe I'm late? I know that I am. But it took so much time to research the candidates. I honestly didn't know anything about the elections three nights ago but now I know. Admittedly not that much, but I know that I don't want Wiley or Hoynes be the next President of the United States. And the Republicans these days? Besides, Paul was a Republican.

I don't know. Party affiliations never played a role in my life when it came to men but looking back right now I should have known that Paul was not the right one for me. Neither was Freddie, Tom or Bob. Maybe their names should have been good indicators too, because honestly, they were boring names and their owners were boring too. Why is it that I always realize that too late?

Okay, don't stand around too much, Donna, this is not why you came here. You didn't want to be a volunteer; you wanted to make a contribution. Okay, let's see who are the players in the room? I never fail to identify the players in the room. You know why? Because I have always dated players. From which I will absolutely abstain in the future. Freddie was the Class President in high school. He was in the Senior Class and I was a sophomore, and I was flattered that he even knew my name, let alone asked me out on a date. Okay, I was naïve, but hey, I was sixteen! He was a Republican to the core, a fact I won't easily forget. He was obsessed with the Second Amendment. You know when I gave him the boot? When he visited a stupid gun show and got home with one of those things. Of course, he didn't buy it himself. No, his older brother did and that's when I knew that Freddie Smith will never be my husband, not if he were the last man on Earth. Not with that family background! 'Cause honestly, you must be really stupid if you buy your younger brother a semi-automatic Tec-9.

Well, Tommy Smith was a player too; he was the valedictorian in high school. He asked me out in my junior year to be his date at the prom and well, he wasn't the best looking boy in the school but he had talent. And yes, that means in the bed. He must have read thousand books and I can safely assume that there was at least one about sex among those. Of course I never asked. You might want to know what the problem with Tom was. Well, to begin with he was a Republican, but that didn't matter much. Not that time, not before I realized this problem with Republicans. What mattered was that he was a bit homophobic. Just a little bit, according to him, but it was enough for me to ditch him right before the prom even if it meant that I had to go with my cousin. 'Cause honestly, you can't be a little homophobic, you either believe that it's okay or you believe that it's gross. And if you think that it is the latter, then go away from me, please!

And then it was time for my senior year, and that's when I met Bob who was in college already. I immediately recognized that one day he will be a player. He was a political activist; he couldn't keep his mouth shut about some gubernatorial campaign he would help in the summer. I didn't realize that he would probably do nothing else than be the coffee-boy, but he was fun to talk to, and I really wanted it to work. I even asked him if he would like to come to me the prom as my date. That was the first time my heart really broke. The others were minor heartaches, but with Bob I had something special. At least that's what I thought back then. And when I asked him to be my date he laughed. He actually laughed! He said 'Don't be silly, Donna, I already had a prom, it was enough.' May I add at this point that the governor he was going to help to get re-elected was a Republican? And that said governor was a right wing politician? And he was pro-life. Just in case you wanted to know, I'm pro-choice. The way I see it you decide this pro-life/pro-choice thing is this: it's based either on principle or on experience. As I already stated I wasn't really interested in politics before, but I had a strong opinion about this thing. My friend, Cindy, got pregnant and she had gone through a big amount of grief before her decision, not to speak about after the abortion. She really shouldn't have talked about it with Carrie Reiner, knowing that she was a tattletale. But hey, she wasn't my friend back then so maybe she didn't know and she needed someone to talk to. Carrie was a sweet girl on the outside. But when you gave her ammunition, she used it to her advantage. I had to learn this the hard way. Also, she was a Republican. Although I don't think that she was, or even is, aware of the fact, but I know that she is. Where was I? Oh, right. Bob Smith. He said one prom was enough. I pointed out to him that he was my boyfriend and he should come with me, but he laughed again. The insensitive jerk! Yes, you guessed right, I ended up with my cousin again who is really sweet and handsome but it so obvious that we are related that Carrie Reiner actually asked me if he was my brother. Imagine my humiliation when I had to tell her that he was my cousin. I went home that night and cried for three consecutive hours.

Never in my life did I cry that much, except last week when I found out about Paul and Tricia. That wasn't heartbreak, it was a meltdown. 'Cause he not only caused my heart break but he also humiliated me and on top of that I had to realize that he used me. So that night I had a revelation. While I played back all of our previous conversations, I realized that Paul was a Republican. And then it clicked. All of my previous boyfriends were Republicans. That's clearly an indication that this country needed a Democratic president! And I wanted to help to elect one. And that's when I hauled my ass into the library and did a little research. I used the blank index cards I found in one of my boxes where I left my college stuff. When I was done I went to the little Italian restaurant Paul hated so much and made my decision. Jed Bartlet was the Democratic candidate I could support and I was going to help him to get elected. But first came the primaries, I reminded myself.

So the players in this room? Honestly, I've never seen a more mismatched group of people than this before. They are just plain different. There is the tall woman who I faintly remember from some public event before. But I think it was a Hollywood event so I might be wrong on that one. Anyway, I'm glad that there are some women here who are players, 'cause honestly that's what I think this country lacks. Powerful women.

She is talking to a tall red-headed woman who I find slightly strange judging by her mannerism, but I learned it a long time ago that you should never judge people by their mannerisms, that's only the top layer, the tip of the iceberg so to say. She isn't a player but the man who approached her after the tall woman left was one. He seems to be slightly familiar but that just might his looks. Because he looks a lot like Uncle Ciaran. He was my father's older brother and I liked him a lot although he was brusque at his best and cryptic at his worst. That used to annoy Mother every time he visited. But it might have been the fact that he was a Democrat and Mother is a Republican. I was so apolitical before that I didn't know why they didn't like each other. I didn't catch on that.

Now I know. Mother is a Republican and Daddy is a white collar, white male voter. And you know what that means in an election? Yes, he is the dread of every campaign manager. He is THE independent voter. He must be courted, wooed and lured out of the closet. Yes, I admit I read some political monographs about elections. Also some novels about Presidents. I also rented The American President with Michael Douglas. Hey, he plays a Wisconsinian! And I'm from Wisconsin. I read Absolute Power too;I heard they did a movie with Clint Eastwood. I wouldn't know because Paul is not a movie fan. He thinks it's beneath him. But I bet that that President was also a Republican. And that book plays a big role in my decision that next time I go out it will be a Democrat. 'Cause Republicans are really the worst kind of people. They break your heart, they use and they might even kill you.

Okay, Donna, focus! Now, there is someone I wouldn't have expected to meet here. I meant his type of man. He is way too young to be a player but he is. He has this confidence that screams that he is. He is also very handsome. He seems to be relaxing and I edge a bit closer to him. He might be someone who I could work for. And that's when I get the big "DANGER, DANGER" blinking thingy in my head. Complete with the sirens. Yes, he is relaxing. Or more like sleeping. But the confidence thing is really screaming. He is a player. I mean who else would dare to sleep in a campaign office? I can't see his eyes but I can see his eyelashes. He has those eyelashes. Yep, the ones where you immediately know that he must have blue eyes. They are long and silky. Yes, definitely danger. Even DANGER, with capitals, and sirens. Besides, he may be prettier than me and might have better hair than me. On his good days, of course. Because right now his hair is all messy. Okay, Donna, we don't want to go there.

And that's when someone runs past me. He brushes his shoulders against mine and I inhale his cologne. Or whatever, it might be his shower gel for all I know. Anyways, he smells good. Very good indeed. And I didn't see his face but I saw his arms. He had the sexiest arms ever. Okay, Donna, get it together! You didn't come here to get yourself a boyfriend. You came here to help Jed Bartlet to become the next President of the United States of America. You cannot get into the old habit again. You don't have to have a boyfriend to feel confident and accomplished.

Okay, his cologne is gone now. I think I got it under control. The whole room smells like someone had opened a coffee-shop here, so I inhale the scent of heavenly coffee and come to my senses. Hey, there is another one! A player, I mean. He is somewhat younger than the one who looks like Uncle Ciaran but older than Pretty Boy. He is balding and he has a beard. He looks sad. I wonder why. Maybe he has heartache. Or maybe his assistant is inept. I know that can cause grief in a man's life. Daddy was always on the edge when he got a new assistant. For some reason Mother was edgy too during those times. I think she sensed Daddy's edginess. Well, this man needs someone who can help him. Okay, we need to establish a contact here. First, I have to find out what his name is. I look around to find a friendly face who could tell me his name.

"Could you help me?" I ask one of the assistants. Or so I hope. She seems to know what she is doing so she is definitely not a volunteer.

"Of course. What do you need?" she asks, looking up from the files in front of her. She flashes me a smile but then returns her attention to her files. I understand that she is pretty busy but also know from the smile that she will hear what I'm saying.

"Who is that man over there?" I point at the balding man who is now talking to a man with very unruly hair. His shirt is grey and even if I don't see his face I don't think it becomes him. Why this is important, I don't know, but it runs through my mind as I wait for the answer from the friendly assistant.

"Josh Lyman," she says, after looking up briefly.

"Thank you," I thank her then I go around the office to find Josh Lyman's cubicle.

When I arrive there I have a plan. I still have to play it by ear, 'cause a lot depends on what he is going to say. The phone rings. I look around but no one answers the phone. And it rings and rings incessantly. I reach out for the receiver.

"Josh Lyman." Okay, I'm not Josh Lyman, but this is his office and I spent enough time in Daddy's office to know that that's how you should pick up the phone if you are someone's assistant.

"May I speak to Josh?" A woman's voice inquires. I look around and find a planner right in front of me.

"No, he's not available right now," I answer while I check out his schedule.

"It would be absolutely essential," the woman says, but I'm not impressed. She just used essential with absolutely. "What about after lunch?"

"This afternoon?" I ask back, skimming the schedule in front of me. "He's got a media session, and then a four o'clock with Finance," I list his meetings and that's when it hits me again. That cologne. It smells nice. "If you leave your name, I can give Josh the message when he gets back."

"This was Miranda Smith from WLC, tell Josh to call me back as soon as he gets there."

"Thank you very much."

And then I turn around.

"Hi," he says. The man with the unruly hair in the grey shirt. And now that I saw his face I know that this shirt really isn't very becoming. But he has nice arms. Oh, would you snap out of it, Donna?

"Who are you?" he asks.

"I'm Donna Moss," I say and then decide to be brave. "Who are you?"

"I'm Josh Lyman," he says.

"Ah!" I manage to say.

"Yes," he concurs.

Be calm, Donna. Be calm! You can still ask him who the balding man was and then you go over to him and ask him for a job.

"I'm your new assistant," I say and I could mentally kick myself. I mean this guy has nice cologne, the nicest arms I have ever seen and he is so darn cute with those dimples!

"Did I have an old assistant?" he asks and I know it will be hard to convince him to employ me, but I suddenly find myself wanting this job. I want to be his assistant.

"Maybe not?" I brave to say.

"Who are you?" he asks again then.

And I tell him. I tell him everything. I find myself unable to lie to him. And that's not a good sign. You may ask why? Because I'm a master of white lies! Yes, I am. I'm not ashamed of it, it's a handy skill. Something a politician should admire. Did I just say admire? Of course not. I meant to say that's something a politician should appreciate. Yes, I meant that. Did I just say that I'll sleep on the floor and sell my car? Okay, that was incredibly stupid. I don't want this to be a replay or a recap of what I had with Paul. Say, something, Donna! Ask for a salary!

"Eventually, you're going to put me on salary." Okay, danger averted.

"Donna…" he says.

"Look. I think I can be good at this. I think you might find me valuable." I find myself saying this and I mean it. I'd be valuable; I'd get him out of that grey shirt. No, I didn't mean it that way! I would just make sure that he wears a color that suits him. I absolutely forbid myself to fall in love with this man. Look at his hair, Donna! No, don't look at his hair, it's too close to his eyes and his eyes are mesmerizing. And that's when the phone starts to ring again. Lucky, lucky me.

"Go ahead," he says and I pick up the receiver again.

"Bartlet for America, Josh Lyman's office," I say and then ask for the details.

That's when Josh hands me his badge. The chain is still warm and the smell of his cologne hits me again. But I shall be strong. I shall be his assistant, and only his assistant. The best assistant ever this campaign had! Oh, my God, I have just realized something! He is a Democrat! I'm so doomed!

THE END