A/N: Hey there, babes!
As you can see, I've started a new story. I had first thought of doing it as a chapter in Inevitable, but it soon grew way beyond that. This is a "long haul" kind of story - it's set over the course of a few months, and I don't expect to wrap it up too quickly.
This is just a little intro, to peak your interest. Let me know what you guys think, and if you're interested in me continuing this!
Rating: T for now
Reviews: Pssssh. Not like I've got a tender ego in need of constant affirmation or anything...
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm far more invested than their creators, actually. They'd probably think I'm crazy.
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"The prosecutor can see you at three."
"Fantastic."
"Do you want me to come?"
Noah sighs. "No, I'll be fine. You should stay and comb through the discovery files."
"You've already done that."
"I'm old. You should do it again."
"Okay. If you think we need to."
"Hey. Guess who gets in today?"
Donna notes the dramatic change in her boss's tone. "Who?"
"My son."
"Josh?"
"No. My other, secret son."
"Okay, okay. That's nice."
"Have you met him before?"
"No, but from what you've told me, I feel like I already have."
"What have I told you?"
"That he works for John Hoynes, he's a world class political mind, and he has an infuriating aversion to giving you grandchildren."
Noah waves a hand. "He's not working for that clown anymore."
"He's not working for Hoynes?"
"No, he quit last week. He's working for Jed Bartlet."
"...who?"
"You know who he is."
"Well, I do, but my point is that few others do."
"Jed Bartlet is a good man."
"Jed Bartlet isn't an electable man."
"Just you wait and see, Donna. My son is going to change all of that."
"You seem to have a lot of faith in him."
"Yeah, but don't tell him that when he shows up. I want to knock him around a bit."
"That's fatherly of you."
He ignores her. "I think you'll like Josh."
"Really?"
"Yes. He is related to me, after all."
"Is he much like you?"
"We have some similarities."
"Such as?"
"We both work too much."
"Ah. A winning quality."
"He's more talkative than I am."
"More talkative than you, sir? I find that hard to believe."
"I resent that sarcasm, Ms. Moss."
"It took you a month to say more than 'Hey you, hand me that file' to me."
"I don't waste words."
"Of course not, sir."
"You know what else? The kid refuses to wear three piece suits."
Donna puts a hand over her heart. "Your son?"
"And no pocket squares, either."
"But you have such a wide variety to loan him."
"I've told him, you must dress sharply to be taken seriously. And what does he wear? Suits two sizes too big, that look like he's slept in them."
"Next you'll tell me he doesn't carry a pocket watch."
Noah levels his gaze at her over his glasses. "I don't carry a pocket watch."
"It was a joke."
He frowns. "But that's not even the worst part, Donnatella."
"You're really talking him up, here, sir."
"He doesn't carry a brief case. He carries a backpack."
"A... Backpack?"
"When he graduated from law school, I gave him a fine, handcrafted leather briefcase. And what does he carry his things in? A Jansport backpack. Like he's still in college."
"Are you going to get me a briefcase when I graduate?"
"I'm sorry, are you related to me?"
"I like to think we've developed a certain kinship, sir."
"You can have his briefcase. He never uses it."
"I'll mention that to him."
"He's also hardly ever on time."
"What? But punctuality is your favorite P word, right after principle."
"Are you mocking the three Ps of legal work, Donna?"
"Of course not, sir. I'm thinking of having Principle, Punctuality, and Perserverance tattooed on myself."
"Good."
"So he's always late?"
"He takes after his mother that way."
"Wasn't your wife an accountant?"
"Yes, why?"
"I'd always thought of accountants as, well, a punctual people."
"In general, sure. But my wife? She'll be late to her own funeral."
"I quite like your wife, sir."
"Most people do. She's very talkative. Which partially explains the tardiness."
"So Josh and Ruth are the same in those regards?"
"No one is as talkative as Ruth. And he's late because he's absent-minded, not because he's personable."
"Is he personable?"
"That's debatable."
"You're describing quite the character, you know."
"I do think you'll like him."
"And why is that?"
"He's single, you know."
"Sir. I'm not going to give you grandchildren."
"I didn't suggest anything of the sort."
"Of course not."
"He said he'd be here around three. So we can reasonably expect him around four."
"What if you're still at your meeting?"
"I'm sure you two could find things to talk about."
"I'll be busy. I have course work, you know, even if I finish the discovery files. He can talk to Phil."
"Yes, well. Whatever suits you." Something tells him she'd find herself distracted.
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At around 3:45 that afternoon, Donna has long since finished the discovery files and is immersed in her constitutional law textbook. She looks up only when someone stops in front of her desk.
"Excuse me."
She takes another ten seconds to finish reading a sentence, and then drags her eyes upward. She finds herself gazing up at the subject of many of her boss's desk photos. "Yes?"
"Is he in?" The man (who she will have trouble thinking of as anything but Noah's "kid") gestures to his father's office door. "I knocked, but..."
She hadn't noticed. "No, he's at a meeting."
"Ah. Right."
"You must be Josh."
"Yeah."
"Of the Jansport backpack and no grandchildren."
"What?" He narrows his eyes, which bear a passing resemblance to his father's.
"Just that, that's what he's told me about you. That you carry a backpack, and you have an extreme aversion to giving him grandchildren."
"What else has he told you?"
"That you work for Jed Bartlet. And that I could have your briefcase."
"You could have my what?"
"Your briefcase. That he gave you at graduation. He said I could have it, because you never use it."
"That does sound like him." He mutters. "Anyway. Who are you?"
"I'm Donna Moss."
"And you're...?"
"I work here."
"I gathered that."
"I'm an intern."
"You're the Yale Law intern?"
"Correct."
"I went to Yale Law, you know."
"I do know."
"Well. Okay."
"I've also seen your baby pictures."
"What?"
"Your baby pictures. On your mother's fridge. I've seen them."
"That's a really strange thing to bring up in conversation."
She shrugs. "I thought it was relevant."
"Any idea when he'll be back?"
"No." She looks back down at her book. "You can wait in his office. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
He stands there for a moment, considering. Eventually, he shrugs off his backpack and coat. "Can I wait out here?"
"If you have a strong desire to do so."
"Are you busy?"
"No, this is leisure reading."
"Con Law?"
"Yeah."
"I loved Con Law."
"Fascinating."
"Shouldn't you be working?"
"I finished my work."
"All of it?"
"Can I ask you something?"
He's taken aback by her finally making eye contact with him. Her eyes were rather off-putting, actually. "Sure."
"Why are you working for Jed Bartlet? You've gotta know he won't win. Why'd you jump ship on Hoynes?"
He looks around for a chair, and drags one across from her desk. She raises her eyebrows.
"This explanation is going to take a while?"
He ignores her and takes a seat. "There's this concept called principle, Donna."
"You're father's a big believer in that concept, too."
"I'm not working for Hoynes because I don't think he should be President. I'm working for Bartlet because I do think he should be President. It's that simple."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes. Okay. That's a valid answer."
"A valid answer? Okay, give it up."
"Okay. Here's my thing. At what point are your principles compromised if you weaken the Democratic candidate to the point that the other side wins?"
"What if we win?"
"What if you don't?"
"Hoynes should be kept honest. He needs to be checked. No one should be able to waltz into the convention unscathed. You need to debate ideas. You need to have conversations you don't want to have. And we're forcing him to do that."
"You're not forcing him to do that yet. He hasn't agreed to debate you. And I doubt he's considering it at this point, given that you're polling at, what, ten percent?"
"Eleven percent."
"Oh, excuse me."
"So then what are you arguing? We're not weakening the presumptive nominee at all."
"Not yet."
"So you have faith?"
"Jed Bartlet's a good man."
"He is."
"And he can give a speech like no one else."
"That's true."
"I think he might get somewhere."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"I never said that."
"I'm feeling a little lost."
"I was just curious about your motives. That's all." She shrugs.
Josh considers the girl before him. She's a change from his father's usual fare: male, and Jewish. It's not that he's a sexist, or really discriminatory at all. He just had a fondness for choosing those he "saw himself" in. That, and the applicant pool was generally comprised of... Well, Jewish men. But he'd chosen her: this blonde, animated girl. He wonders what he'd seen in her. "Who are you voting for?"
She opens her mouth in incredulity. "You can't ask me that."
"Sure I can."
She bites her lip. "I haven't decided yet."
"Yes you have."
"Excuse me?"
"You're lying."
"I want you to sell me on Jed Bartlet."
"Even though you've already decided to vote for Hoynes?"
"No. Even though I've already decided to vote for Bartlet."
"...You've lost me."
"I'm saying, I'm sold. But I would've liked to hear what you had to say if I wasn't."
"Why?"
"Because a lot of people out there aren't sold. And I'm wondering what you tell them."
Josh shakes his head, befuddled. "So this is all... Hypothetical?"
"Yes."
"Did my father put you up to this?"
Her eyes widen. "No."
"He didn't?"
"Actually, he'd probably be mad that I'm doing this. He wants to razz you about Bartlet himself."
He smiles. "Ah, now that sounds about right."
"So. Convince me."
"Convince you of what?"
"Convince me to vote for Jed Bartlet."
"You're already voting for Jed Bartlet."
"You're really very slow."
Just as he's opening his mouth for some incredulous reply, the double doors to the office swing open, revealing a harried sixty-something in a three piece suit. "Donna, could you-" he stops abruptly, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Joshua!"
"Dad!" A dimpled grin splits his face as he rises from his seat to hug his father.
Donna must admit, the sight of her normally stoic boss embracing his son does warm her heart a little bit.
"How was your flight?" Noah asks upon releasing him.
"Not bad."
"I see you've met my capable young intern, Ms. Moss."
"Oh yeah. We met." He says with a wry grin.
She could be imagining it, but she thinks there's a slight sparkle in Noah's eye as he looks between them. "You look tired." He admonishes, returning his gaze to his son.
"I've been busy."
"Ah, yes. How is that doomed, Quixotic campaign of yours?"
Josh rolls his eyes. "It's good. I mean, we're in a good place. To start. In a few months-"
"You'll all be packing your bags and selling the campaign office."
"No faith in me, huh?"
"You, those other rag tag youngsters. Leo. How is he, by the way?"
"Good. Probably less so once he hears you're expecting him to fail."
Noah waves a hand dismissively. "He knows I expect him to fail."
"You were a real help during the twelve steps, weren't you?"
He chuckles. "I'm only having some fun. I expect you to lay out your entire fifty state plan for me over dinner tonight."
"If you're going to be a consultant, let them pay you."
"You've got the money for me?"
"No."
"Ah, as I thought."
Josh shakes his head at his father's antics. "Anyway, how are you? Been feeling okay?"
"Oh, fine. Just fine."
"Good. That's good."
"Yes." Noah acknowledges brusquely. "So, have you been to see your mother yet?"
Donna narrows her eyes at her boss suspiciously. He seemed uncomfortable with the subject of his health, avoiding his son's gaze.
"Nah, this was on the way home. Figured I'd stop by and help out for a couple hours, then head out with you."
"I have perfectly capable staff, you know."
Josh aims a smirk at the intern watching their conversation. "Yes, I'm sure."
Donna rolls her eyes.
"You could help Donna with the assignment I'm about to give her, actually." Donna opens her mouth to protest, but isn't quick enough. "Pull all of the case files from June twelfth. Then see what connections you can draw to last week's deposition. It'll be slim if there is anything, but I've got an inkling it'll help us with Monday's cross examination."
"You got it." Josh turns to face her, still wearing the same annoying smirk.
"But, sir." Donna begins in a plaintive tone. "He doesn't know the case at all. He'll have no context, and he'll slow me down with having to explain it to him."
"He's a bright kid. He'll pick it up. You won't ask stupid questions, will you Josh?"
"No. But, say, what's a deposition?
Noah smiles, but Donna is unimpressed. "Sir. He'll distract me."
"Oh, will I, now?"
Noah shakes his head, amused. "I'll be in my office, Donnatella. Have it on my desk by five."
She sighs in defeat. "Yes, sir." She mutters as he retreats.
"So. Let's get to it, then."
She gives him a withering look, but before long, it changes to a malicious grin. "You know what? That sounds great. And while we pull the files, you can attempt to sell me on Jed Bartlet."
He opens his mouth in incredulity. "But, I-"
"Ah ah. You heard what your father said about stupid questions."
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"Did you boys have a good time at the office?" Ruth asks casually over dinner.
"Yes, we did. I think Joshua had a particularly good time." Noah says slyly.
His son gives him a look. "I would've, if you hadn't sicked your little legalese Barbie on me."
Ruth furrows her brow. "What?"
"The intern. Trailing me all over the place, asking me questions about Bartlet. Grilling me on my knowledge of obscure precedents and legal terms."
"I believe it was you trailing her, actually."
Josh doesn't look up at his father's interruption, continuing around a mouthful of food. "As if anyone knows as much inane information as she does. She kept getting in digs about me not passing the bar, would you believe that?"
Noah forces back a grin. Yes, he would believe that. "Well, you didn't pass the bar."
"I didn't take it!"
"Against my advice."
"Are you talking about Donna Moss?" Ruth interrupts, before Josh can get in a retort.
"Yeah. Her."
"Oh, I love her! She's such a sweetheart."
Josh looks at his mother skeptically. "You're sure we're talking about the same person?"
"The intern, yes? Blonde? Yes, your father and I have had her over for dinner quite a few times. Nice girl. Smart, too."
"I agree." Noah declares.
"And very pretty, I might add."
Josh ignores this. "Why'd you hire her, anyway?"
"Because she's good at her job."
"Well, sure, but there must've been other applicants. And she's so different from what you normally go with."
"She made an impression in the interview."
"I'm sure she did." He mutters.
"Joshua, you wouldn't happen to be implying that I hired my intern as eye candy for the office, would you?"
"What? No!" He says quickly. "No, of course not, I didn't mean-" He meets his father's gaze to find he's merely teasing him. "You're the worst."
"Well, what did you mean?"
"I just meant... You always hire people you 'see yourself in,' or whatever."
"Yes. Yes, well."
"You're kidding."
"She reminds me of myself when I was younger."
"How?" He asks incredulously. He couldn't think of anyone more different from his reserved, steadfast father than the quirk he'd met that afternoon.
"Her passion for legal work."
"...What?"
"She's all about the human side of it. The morality. The fighting for someone's rights, even on a small scale basis. I've lost sight of that as I've aged, but... Yes. That is the reason I became a lawyer in the first place, and that is why I hired her. To remind me of that. Now, does that suffice?"
Josh considers his interactions with the woman in question earlier that afternoon. She'd backed up many of her points (through some very interesting, backwards logic) with human examples; tall tales of family farmers or steel workers. He smiles slightly. "Yeah, okay. I get it."
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"Was yesterday's report helpful?"
"Yes, it was. Thank you."
"Of course." Donna lingers in the doorway, hoping he'll bring up the person who'd "helped" her with the report. No such luck.
"Is there something I can help you with, Donna?"
"I was just wondering if your son was coming in today." Knowing how he'll interpret this, she braces herself.
"He is, yes. He's spending time with Ruth, but he'll be in for a few hours before his flight leaves."
"Ah."
He looks up at her, and she receives the muted mirthful look she'd anticipated. "Why? Do you want to see him again?"
She scoffs. "Hardly."
"No? You two seemed quite engaged with each other yesterday."
"We were arguing, sir."
"He had plenty to say about you last night."
"I'm sure he did." She says haughtily, trying to appear as though this news is of little consequence to her.
"Admit it. You liked him, didn't you?" His voice borders on prideful.
Annoyed with his surety, she frowns. "Actually, I found him insufferable."
Noah furrows his brow. "Hey. Watch yourself, he's my son."
"That's fair, because I find you insufferable sometimes, too."
"Oh?"
She stumbles to find an answer that will distract from herself, and realizes she has a very legitimate one. "Like when you won't take one day off. Not one! Not even a half day."
He sighs. "Is this about next week?"
"Yes, it's about next week."
"I've told you, I'll be fine. And if you attempt to lighten my schedule, I'll fire you."
"I'm impervious."
"You're not."
"Sir. You know how much treatment took out of you last time. You can't expect to keep going at full speed once the chemo starts again."
He looks up at her sharply. "I'll ask you to keep your voice down, Ms. Moss."
"Why? Everyone in the office knows about your relapse, sir, you brought it up at the staff meeting last month."
"I know that I brought it up at the meeting, Donna." He snaps.
She's taken aback by his tone. "I'm sorry, sir. But then... Why are we keeping our voices down?"
"It's... Never mind."
She narrows her eyes. "You know, when you told me your son was coming, I assumed it would be for your first treatment."
"No, he won't be there for that. His flight is today." He repeats.
"I know, but what I'm asking, sir, is... Does Josh know about your relapse?"
He doesn't look at her, staring down at a brief with a dour expression. "Now that you mention it, he does not."
"He doesn't?"
"No."
"Well, excuse me, sir, but why the hell not?"
"I will ask you again to keep your voice down."
"Sir, why haven't you told your son?" She repeats in a low, appalled whisper. Her change in volume does little to lessen the impact of her words.
"Because I don't want to worry him." He says tersely. "He has a lot on his plate."
"Sir, he's a grown man. I think he can handle it."
"I'm sure that he can."
"So tell him!"
"I'm hoping it will clear up on it's own. And by then, I won't even need to tell him."
"What are you going to tell him when your hair starts falling out again?"
"It's much easier, you know, to tell someone when you're in remission. To have them celebrate with you. But this..."
"I know it's hard, sir." She acknowledges gently. "But he deserves to know."
"I thought you didn't even like him. And now you're telling me what he does and doesn't deserve to know?"
"This isn't a question of liking him, it's about-"
"This doesn't involve you, Donna." He interrupts coldly. "You are an excellent worker, and for that I am grateful, but you are not a member of my family. You have no business butting into my personal affairs, so I'll thank you to stay out of them."
Taken aback by the harshness of his voice, she falters. "Oh, I... Okay. I'll go."
The hurt in her eyes jars him out of his agitation. "No, Donna, wait." He sighs.
She pauses in his doorway, arms folded tightly to her chest. "What?"
"Please. Come back in. Shut the door."
Still not looking at him, she does as requested.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's okay." She says softly.
"It's not. You know how valuable I find you, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you know how much Ruth and I care for you, yes?"
This forces a small smile out of her. She nods.
"Good. I really am sorry."
"Okay."
"The reason I haven't told Josh about my relapse is because I don't want him to feel obligated to me."
Donna furrows her brow. "You're his father. He'll always feel obligated to you."
"Yes, but, I don't want him coming home out of guilt anymore than he already does."
"Guilt? Sir, I don't-"
"He thinks he killed his sister."
Donna gapes at him, completely floored by this declaration. "He what?"
"You know about my daughter, yes? Ruth told you?" He says, having returned to the usual briskness he used when dealing with anything that could be considered serious or sentimental.
"Well, yes, sir."
"He blames himself for the fire."
"But... He was a little boy." She says softly, aghast at the thought that someone could shoulder something like that for so long.
"I know that. And I'm sure that, on a logical basis, he knows that as well. But he feels the need to make up for the fact that he's only one child, and not two. He goes out of his way. He's dealt with that pressure for a very long time, and I just wouldn't want to add to it." Noah says resolutely, masking any emotion he is feeling with an exaggeration of his usual gruffness.
She bites her lip. "I doubt he'd want you to protect him that way, sir."
"You're probably right." He admits.
"So you'll tell him?"
"Yes. I will tell him this afternoon, before he leaves."
"You've made the right choice."
"When this all goes south, you'll be the one I blame it on, I'll have you know."
"I should think so, sir." She smiles.
"Now, get out. I'm very busy." He says brusquely, gaze returning to the brief on his desk. His voice has regained its usual warmth, however.
"Of course."
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Isn't this cute? I think it's cute.
I know I've got quite a few balls in the air, but I'll try to keep them all going :) I'm trying to wrap up Nine Kinds of Pain before the end of the Holiday season, so that should help.
Let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading.
