He hoped that he could produce moves stealthy enough to surprise her and
get a smile out of her that wasn't part of the act that she had so
successfully mounted and been performing all night. He sidled carefully up
next to her.
"Walk you back to your car?" he asked with an endearing grin.
She turned to face him, not in the least surprised to find him at her elbow. She did smile, but he could read in it that it was for his benefit, and not for her own.
"I suppose I've done enough damage here for one night. Let me get my things."
She said this with an almost wry grin, but the sharp bitterness in her voice was painfully obvious. He watched her gather her things and then move to turn out the bullpen lights, only to dazedly stop as she realized the number of people still stumbling around the office in a drunken euphoria.
"It's a early for you to be leaving, too," she said. "Aren't you supposed to be in the other room, drinking champagne, smacking people around in order to express your joy, and wooing the ladies?"
"Well, you'd probably say that I've had enough to drink. I was able to complete the necessary congratulatory abuse in record time. And Joey's...large and...pregnant, so that's just weird."
He watched her face as he mentioned Joey. Not for the first time in recent days, he had strategically placed that name in their conversations, hoping to get some sort of reaction from Donna.
She looked down and said nothing. She had finished performing for the night.
And so, they walked to the garage in silence.
Glancing over at her again, he gently took her arm. She yielded and loosely linked her arm through his, though when she did, his grip tightened.
"Cold night," he attempted weakly.
"Mmm," Donna responded.
The walked a bit longer, before he tried again.
"You know," he began, his voice low and assured, "there are days when I look at you and I don't even recognize you."
Her head turned to look at him, that she might predict where this was going. The tone he was using was brought out so infrequently that she hardly knew what to expect from it.
He noted her look of simultaneous vacancy and confusion, and continued, his uncertainty as to how to proceed growing. "It's just that...you've become this person, Donna. You've always been smart and you've always kept me sane, but sometimes I see you and you're so full of confidence and grace that I hardly know you."
Their pace slowed, as they neared her car, and as she considered the words he was speaking.
They reached her car door and stopped. She turned her body to face him, and with some trepidation, lifted her face to see now what was reflected in his.
A somewhat bewildered expression met her eyes, which only made too much sense. Josh didn't know how to say the things that he was telling her. She looked at him patiently, and waited for him to continue.
Taken aback by the sudden eye contact, Josh quickly looked down, before remembering how important it was to make her feel better about herself on a night such as this one, on this night in particular. He took a breath and forced his eyes to return to her face.
The darkness under her eyes contrasted sharply with the garish paleness of her face shining under the harsh lights of the garage.
"There is nothing in the world you can't do, Donna, and it's amazing... astounding, really, to watch you as you begin to understand that."
"Josh, really, I'm fine."
"No, I'm serious, Donna."
Her glance dropped to the ground, and she said darkly, "It seems, Josh, that there are some things that even I am incapable of doing."
Without hesitation, he carefully lifted her chin, in order to force her eyes to meet his. His hand slid away from her face, and dropped to the ground. As he began to speak again, his hands skimmed up her arms and began to caress her shoulders.
"You made the world a better place today, Donna, not worse. You've been doing this for a while now. You've become this person who is not only capable of making the world a better place, but knows how to do so. You gave thirty-five people their lives back today, and you were not the one to take away the life of the thirty-sixth. There is no guilt on your shoulders."
"I could have tried harder," she said, her voice quietly shaking. "If I had just been able to find the right words to convince the president. If I had just..."
"No, Donna. No one could have known what would happen. But I know this. I know that if...the world were ending, and if everyone else forgot how to feel, forgot everything but the political, you would be the one voice of morality, shouting down the politics of everyone else." He stroked her hair, her cheek. "You'll never forget, and it's because you do let things come close to you that you feel them the way others don't."
His voice grew soft. "You'll be the moral compass, long after the politics have gone."
He drew her into a hug, and felt a tear hit the back of his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He pulled her more closely before letting go. He studied her face for a long moment, before confessing to her, "I've never been prouder of another person than I am of you."
She held his gaze, and she found that she believed him. She found herself smiling in spite of the day it had been.
Josh saw the grin slide onto her face, and grinned himself with the relief of maybe, for once, being able to make something right.
"Go home," he said, running his hand along the length of her hair, "Get some sleep," he added, caressing her cheek, "And be prepared to be in the office at the crack of dawn, so that we can resume our dance of victory to the music of triumph at that time."
His last comment was said with a playful smirk, but his hands dropped to reach hers. Taking her hands in his, he gave them a meaningful squeeze, and murmured, "Goodnight, Donnatella."
She opened the door of her car and slid into the seat. Just before shutting the door, she looked up at him and said, "Goodnight, Joshua."
"Walk you back to your car?" he asked with an endearing grin.
She turned to face him, not in the least surprised to find him at her elbow. She did smile, but he could read in it that it was for his benefit, and not for her own.
"I suppose I've done enough damage here for one night. Let me get my things."
She said this with an almost wry grin, but the sharp bitterness in her voice was painfully obvious. He watched her gather her things and then move to turn out the bullpen lights, only to dazedly stop as she realized the number of people still stumbling around the office in a drunken euphoria.
"It's a early for you to be leaving, too," she said. "Aren't you supposed to be in the other room, drinking champagne, smacking people around in order to express your joy, and wooing the ladies?"
"Well, you'd probably say that I've had enough to drink. I was able to complete the necessary congratulatory abuse in record time. And Joey's...large and...pregnant, so that's just weird."
He watched her face as he mentioned Joey. Not for the first time in recent days, he had strategically placed that name in their conversations, hoping to get some sort of reaction from Donna.
She looked down and said nothing. She had finished performing for the night.
And so, they walked to the garage in silence.
Glancing over at her again, he gently took her arm. She yielded and loosely linked her arm through his, though when she did, his grip tightened.
"Cold night," he attempted weakly.
"Mmm," Donna responded.
The walked a bit longer, before he tried again.
"You know," he began, his voice low and assured, "there are days when I look at you and I don't even recognize you."
Her head turned to look at him, that she might predict where this was going. The tone he was using was brought out so infrequently that she hardly knew what to expect from it.
He noted her look of simultaneous vacancy and confusion, and continued, his uncertainty as to how to proceed growing. "It's just that...you've become this person, Donna. You've always been smart and you've always kept me sane, but sometimes I see you and you're so full of confidence and grace that I hardly know you."
Their pace slowed, as they neared her car, and as she considered the words he was speaking.
They reached her car door and stopped. She turned her body to face him, and with some trepidation, lifted her face to see now what was reflected in his.
A somewhat bewildered expression met her eyes, which only made too much sense. Josh didn't know how to say the things that he was telling her. She looked at him patiently, and waited for him to continue.
Taken aback by the sudden eye contact, Josh quickly looked down, before remembering how important it was to make her feel better about herself on a night such as this one, on this night in particular. He took a breath and forced his eyes to return to her face.
The darkness under her eyes contrasted sharply with the garish paleness of her face shining under the harsh lights of the garage.
"There is nothing in the world you can't do, Donna, and it's amazing... astounding, really, to watch you as you begin to understand that."
"Josh, really, I'm fine."
"No, I'm serious, Donna."
Her glance dropped to the ground, and she said darkly, "It seems, Josh, that there are some things that even I am incapable of doing."
Without hesitation, he carefully lifted her chin, in order to force her eyes to meet his. His hand slid away from her face, and dropped to the ground. As he began to speak again, his hands skimmed up her arms and began to caress her shoulders.
"You made the world a better place today, Donna, not worse. You've been doing this for a while now. You've become this person who is not only capable of making the world a better place, but knows how to do so. You gave thirty-five people their lives back today, and you were not the one to take away the life of the thirty-sixth. There is no guilt on your shoulders."
"I could have tried harder," she said, her voice quietly shaking. "If I had just been able to find the right words to convince the president. If I had just..."
"No, Donna. No one could have known what would happen. But I know this. I know that if...the world were ending, and if everyone else forgot how to feel, forgot everything but the political, you would be the one voice of morality, shouting down the politics of everyone else." He stroked her hair, her cheek. "You'll never forget, and it's because you do let things come close to you that you feel them the way others don't."
His voice grew soft. "You'll be the moral compass, long after the politics have gone."
He drew her into a hug, and felt a tear hit the back of his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He pulled her more closely before letting go. He studied her face for a long moment, before confessing to her, "I've never been prouder of another person than I am of you."
She held his gaze, and she found that she believed him. She found herself smiling in spite of the day it had been.
Josh saw the grin slide onto her face, and grinned himself with the relief of maybe, for once, being able to make something right.
"Go home," he said, running his hand along the length of her hair, "Get some sleep," he added, caressing her cheek, "And be prepared to be in the office at the crack of dawn, so that we can resume our dance of victory to the music of triumph at that time."
His last comment was said with a playful smirk, but his hands dropped to reach hers. Taking her hands in his, he gave them a meaningful squeeze, and murmured, "Goodnight, Donnatella."
She opened the door of her car and slid into the seat. Just before shutting the door, she looked up at him and said, "Goodnight, Joshua."