He almost didn't go home. What's the point? What's the point of any of it? And how the hell did it all get so fucked up?
Donna quit. Leo's telling him to move on. What's he supposed to do?
He opens the door. Drops his stuff on the floor and kicks the door closed with his heel. Then he walks over to the couch and throws himself down on it. His head is buzzing.
A second later his head pops up. What's that? He looks around his apartment.
He thinks he might be delusional, because he's pretty sure he hears faint music. And he swears he can smell tomato sauce. And his table is set for two.
He heaves himself up off the couch and heads toward his bedroom, loosening his tie on the way. Maybe it's too tight. Maybe he's not getting enough blood flow.
But no, now that he's in the bedroom, he can hear that the music is accompanied by off-tune singing. He starts to smile reflexively, but his brain is still trying to process all of this.
There is a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner. He adds his suit jacket, and pulls the tie the rest of the way off, and throws it on top. Then he pushes the bathroom door open. No doubt about it, she's in his shower.
He pulls the curtain open and looks at her in disbelief. Confusion etched on his face.
"You're here?"
"Yes." She smiles at him gently. He's not sure he can handle gentle right now.
"You quit!" He accuses harshly.
Her eyes get sad.
"You quit." He says softer.
"I quit the job. I didn't quit us. We really need to talk. I'll be done in a few minutes."
He walks back out of the room, sits on the end of the bed, and scrubs his hands through what's left of his hair.
His mind is spinning. For a moment, he considers shedding his clothes and joining her in the shower.
When they are both naked and wet, not a lot of talking happens. And a big part of him doesn't want to have this talk. But she's right, they need to have it.
He's known he wouldn't be able to avoid it forever. Maybe he can convince her to change her mind. He tries to think of reasons, but he's distracted when the door opens.
She comes out of the bathroom wrapped in an oversized fluffy towel. Her towel. She bought two while he was recoverying from the shooting, but he only uses them when she's over. He doesn't ever want them to be in the laundry when she needs one.
She smiles softly at him and kisses his furrowed forehead. Then she slides her hand down his face. Lovingly. Does she still love him? She quit!
She crosses over to the dresser and pulls the old Harvard t-shirt out of the top drawer. He doesn't wear that anymore either. It's so soft and worn, it's practically see through. He saves it for her. He'll never wear it again.
She drops the towel and pulls the shirt over her head. The sight shoots straight to his groin. He loves it when she runs around his apartment like this. Everything in him screams MINE! But she's not. She quit.
He watches as she pulls on flannel pajama pants, and he must have moaned, because she gives him a gentle, pitying look.
"Come on, dinner's probably ready." She takes his hand and leads him to the kitchen.
He leans against the counter and observes as she pulls a salad out of the refrigerator and sets it next to him. Then she takes a pan of lasagna out of the oven.
"You grab the salad. Come on." She leads him back to the dining room. Then looks at him contemplatively.
"Well, we might need a little wine. But not too much, okay?"
He heads back to the kitchen and grabs a bottle. But then he stops himself. She prefers White. He puts the Red back and opens the fridge. White will be fine with him too.
She gives him a genuine smile as he pours. She's already put some food on his plate. It smells fantastic, but his stomach is in knots. Is it the last meal of a doomed man? How could he function without her?
"Josh. You need to eat." She tells him softly. It seems like maybe she does care. But isn't she mad at him? She quit.
"Josh, Josh, Joshua, Josh. Stop looking at me like that. I love you. That hasn't changed."
"But you quit!"
"This is why I wanted to do this at work. I'm not quitting you. But I have to move on from the job. Josh, I feel like I've been spinning my wheels for a while. You know that."
"But I need you."
"No. You really don't. There are hundreds of extremely qualified people that could do my job."
"Not like you. You're irreplaceable."
"No. I'm really not." She pauses. "At least not at work. But maybe, hopefully, here?"
Now she looks a little uncertain. This wasn't easy for her either. What if all this has just been about convenience, or keeping her from leaving the job. She shakes her head and tries to banish the old insecurities.
"YES. My god. I love you. You're irreplaceable in every part of my life. Please don't make me do any of this without you."
"I'm sorry." She says it softly, biting her lip, her eyes filling with tears.
For a second, he's hopeful. Maybe he reached her, maybe she'll change her mind. But then she goes on.
"This isn't about you. Since Gaza I've realized something. I have to try to do something more with my life. I love assisting you, I really do. But for some reason my life was spared and I have to make something more of it. And I need to do it independently. I almost gave up my whole life for Dr. Freeride. And now, it sort of feels like I'm giving my whole life for you. I need to prove to myself that I can do something on my own. Do you understand?"
"No. I don't."
The tears start to roll down her cheeks. His heart is breaking too.
"Donna, I don't think of you as just an assistant. You're like an extension of me. You fill in all the gaps, you clean up my messes, you keep me from going off the rails, you . . . OH!"
He stops mid-thought. "Oh. Maybe I do sort of see. But you really have done a lot of substantive things, you know that right? You really contributed to the budget negotiations, and the Brussels trade deal, and during the shutdown you saved social security! You haven't just been answering my phones and getting me coffee."
"I never got you coffee."
"I know."
"But no one else will know that. When people look at what I do, they do see just an assistant. This administration is almost over. I have to think about what comes next."
"I don't know what comes next either. But I just figured you'd come with me."
"But you know you wouldn't work for either Russell or Hoynes, right? You've already turned them both down."
"Right."
"And that's assuming one of them can even win without you. If a Republican wins, it's a sure bet that neither one of us would have a job in the White House."
"True."
"So realistically, what would you do?"
"Probably write a book. Maybe teach. Possibly consult. The DNC has asked me to run for Congress but I'm not ready to consider that yet."
"How would I fit into any of those?"
"I'd still need you."
"Josh. With any of those jobs, it would be a make-work position for me. Something truly secretarial. I've grown beyond that. Don't you think?"
"Yes. You have. . . . We could consult. We could be partners."
"No one would take me seriously. I don't have the credentials for it. At least not yet. That's why I need to move on. I need to make a name for myself. Outside of your shadow."
He feels hurt for a moment. But deep down he knows she's right.
"Do you have a plan?" He hardly feels the need to ask. Of course she does. But they are talking about it. And he wants to know.
"Will has offered to make me the Coordinator for Media Relations for the Midwest and Pacific Northeast. I'll have opportunities for advancement within the campaign. I know you don't really like Russell. But at least he's a democrat. And there is no way I could work for Hoynes. I think I could be good at this. I think they might find me valuable."
"Of course they will. You are invaluable. I'm sorry if I've held you back. I just don't know what I'm going to do without you."
"It's not your fault. You've always given me work beyond my title. And you've asked for and taken my advice on many occasions. You've taught me more about politics than any University ever could have. But now it's time for me to move on. I've been holding myself back, because I love you, and I don't want to hurt you. But I need you to let me go. I don't know if we can survive if I have to break away from you."
"I don't want you to break away from me. I love you. I'll let you go. Just promise you'll come back to me."
"I told you. I'm not leaving us. But I will be on the road quite a bit. I'm going to sublease my apartment."
"Well I happen to know a nice little bed and breakfast for whenever you're in town. But I have to warn you it comes with a bedmate and the breakfast won't be very good unless you make it."
That earns him a quick kiss.
"Seriously. Bring over whatever you don't want to leave at your place while you're gone."
He's already thinking ahead. Maybe they can get rid of her apartment altogether.
"Okay. And you can visit me on the road. We can have the campaign fling we didn't have during Bartlet for America. With lots of hotel sex."
"That sounds nice." He says dryly. But his smirk gives him away.
"Josh. I love you. We're going to be okay."
He gives her another kiss and takes a bite of his food.
Okay.
