Author:
Website: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
Notes: For Ellie's WingNuts... Written from the Steampipe Trunk Distribution Venue on Terry Cloth Robe Night
"Donna!"
White House Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman was sitting in his office with a folder open on his desk as he yelled. The contents of the file were a mishmash of his own notes and others scribbled by his assistant, Donna Moss. The file pertained to an upcoming conference on domestic violence at which that President Josiah Bartlet was going to speak. Josh's task was to determine what points in the law merited the most discussion and how to stabilize the administration's support for proposed changes to the Violence Against Women Act.
That was his job.
The job of his assistant was to pull the relevant research and give him a synopsis of several issues he wanted to focus upon specifically. At least, that was what he asked her to do.
"Donna," he yelled again.
Still receiving no acknowledgment, he sighed forcefully and removed his feet from his desk. He closed the folder and stepped out of his office.
"Donna!"
"She's not here," Susan, one of the slew of secretaries, informed him with a sneer.
"Well, I can see that," he replied. "Where is she? She's put her notes and research in the file."
"What's the problem?" she asked. "You wanted her to do that."
"No," he said testily. "I wanted research; I wanted notes. What I got were hieroglyphics and these savage scrawls that an FBI profiler would probably think were made by a serial killer."
"Huh?"
"Type," he snapped. "She didn't type them! I can't read her handwriting... Why am I having this conversation with you? Where is Donna?"
"She left an hour ago," Susan said. "She had a date."
"What?"
"A date," she said, slowly enunciating. "A man takes a woman out to eat and they enjoy each other's company. You should try it sometime, Mr. Lyman."
"Susan, I've never liked you, and you've done nothing to change that," he said walking away.
A date, he thought to himself.
The concept jarred his senses. A date? It was a Monday. Mondays were not date nights, he argued internally. He walked dumbly back into his office and sat down. He noted for the first time that it was dark outside his windows. He looked at his watch. It was 9 p.m.--still early in the world of the White House. He lifted his phone and punched the extension for the Deputy Communications Director, Sam Seaborn.
"Yeah," Sam said after the third ring.
"She's not here," Josh said mildly.
"Josh?" Sam responded.
"Yeah."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Donna," Josh repeated. "She's not here. I was looking for her, but she already left."
"Yeah, she had a date," Sam said. "Is that a problem?"
"No," Josh said suddenly. "I mean, yes. She got my notes, or rather her notes, all screwed up for the VAWA thing. I can't read this stuff."
Sam sighed and stifled a snigger.
"Well, you'll have to get that fixed tomorrow," Sam said carefully. "When Donna's back. Don't call her in tonight, Josh. It wouldn't be fair."
"Why not?"
"Because she's on a date," Sam said firmly. "She's been talking about it all week."
"It's only Monday," Josh argued. "All week consists of just today."
"I was including yesterday," Sam said.
"Interesting," Josh said. "How do you know she's been talking about it all week?"
"Because she's been talking about it all week," Sam answered. "Didn't she tell you?"
"Well, since I'm calling you, wouldn't that appear to indicate she did not?"
"Not necessarily," Sam said. "You could be in a deep state of denial."
"The river in Egypt?"
"Okay, you don't want to admit it," Sam said. "I understand."
"What could I possibly be in denial about?" Josh asked hotly. "This is not denial. This is the cusp of a crisis; it's little things like this that seem to evolve into the epidemic chaos that plagues this administration, Sam. All I'm doing is looking for the one person on the planet who can translate Donna's handwriting; they don't have a department for that at any university in the area or over at State, so it appears to be a problem."
"Yeah," Sam replied. "But what I'm wondering is why this is bothering you right now?"
"Because I work here, Sam," Josh said. "See, while the rest of you are locked in the all-important discussions about my assistant's after-work plans, I do menial and irrelevant tasks like helping oversee the administration of the country."
"Yeah, I've been meaning to send you a fruit basket for your efforts," Sam responded. "Look, Josh I hear you. I believe I understand. Let's get down to business. Can you survive 10 or 11 consecutive hours without Donna?"
"Doesn't that sounds like an awful long time for a date?" Josh observed skeptically.
"Maybe it's more than just dinner," Sam offered and listened for the expected sigh.
"I really don't care what it is," Josh sighed. "I just have this file thing and... Whatever."
"Do you need an intervention?" Sam asked.
"Thank you," Josh stated firmly. "This discussion has been less than helpful."
"Excellent," Sam said and disconnected.
Josh stared at the receiver in his hand. He dropped it back into its cradle with a clatter. He looked at his watch again. Ten or 11 hours?
He sighed again forcefully, feeling the tension welling in his neck. He stood and walked stiffly to the wall; he stood with his back flat against it, in an effort to relieve his stress. It never worked, but at least with Donna gone he didn't have to worry about getting hit with a door. He looked at the door to his left then shook his head.
"This just doesn't work on so many levels," he said with frustration as he abandoned his post and returned to his desk.
He grabbed the file and slapped it open. A single light burned on the corner of his desk. He focused on the legible information and started making notes again. He flicked his eyes once more to his watch. Ten hours was nearly half a day, he thought before turning his attention again to his work.
**************
Donna climbed out the cab at 11 p.m. She was amazed the time had passed so quickly. It seemed like just an hour ago she was trying to keep up with Josh as he breezed through the office throwing orders at her over his shoulder.
"What are you thinking about?" her date asked in a sultry voice.
His name was Paul Midland. He was in his mid-30s and worked for some consulting firm in the District. Donna wasn't exactly sure what he did. He explained it in vague terms, dropping hints that it involved sensitive issues with money or technology that he was not supposed to discuss. While part of her wondered if he was making himself sound mysterious to intrigue her, she decided that was cynical as he knew she worked at the White House. What could be more impressive than that, she thought.
"I was thinking about work," she admitted. "Tonight was a splendid change of pace."
"Tell me about it," he agreed. "I feel like I live at the office. I don't think my boss can brush his teeth without me some days."
"What would they do without us," she remarked.
"Get lost in the hallways probably," Paul chuckled.
Donna laughed demurely. The thought of Josh wandering around not knowing where he was going or what he was doing next was.....
She stopped herself. Rule number one for the evening was she was not to think about Josh. The reason for going out was to relax and leave thoughts of work at the office. That included anything relating to Josh. He was her boss and essentially nothing more. It was difficult to accept that some times, but she knew she would have to. Her friend Tracy had inadvertently made that very clear to her recently. They were talking about where they might be in five years. It was in that moment that Donna realized her job was a temporary position. Josh would not be the Deputy Chief of Staff forever. It was a term post. When he left the White House, he would not need Donna any longer. When she realized that, it became clear she needed to take a serious look at her life. What she saw was not encouraging.
She did not have a college degree. She spent the super majority of her time, some times up to 20 hours per day, keeping order on Josh's world, no mean feat considering the tempests always surrounding him. She had learned much and met many wonderful people, but once she drifted out of Josh's sphere, she would lose all that. She was not worried she couldn't find employment when the president finally left office, but she would lose her connection to the people who had become her life. She didn't want to wake up on a cold, January morning in a few short years to find out her world no longer existed. She knew she needed to make some changes. So when a friend of Tracy's mentioned a dashing, single man had seen Donna with Tracy at lunch and would like to meet her, Donna was intrigued.
"I'm sorry," Donna said. "Did you say something?"
"Yeah," Paul said, his lips tight for a second. "I asked if you had a nice time this evening?"
"Yes, I did," she replied. "I'm sorry. I was... I don't get out much these days. The lack of commotion lets my mind wander."
He narrowed his pale blue eyes for a second. Donna wasn't sure what to make of the action, but it disappeared so quickly she wasn't sure she had seen anything at all. She let her eyes linger on his. They were beautiful eyes. She had stared into them throughout dinner. They were bright and deep and flirtatious.
The rest of the package wasn't bad either. Dashing was an apt word to describe Paul, she thought. He had broad shoulders and a trim physique. He had let it slip in several different ways that he was an exercise junkie who ran several miles each day and played racquetball all winter and went rock climbing or kayaking through the summers.
He walked her to the door. She mentally notched a few extra points for him. He held doors, pulled out chairs, complimented her outfit, laughed at her joke and asked questions to prove he was listening when she spoke. Paul was a very different kind of man than she encountered on a daily basis. He was swiftly meeting her definition of gentleman.
"I understand," he said in a mellifluous tone as he took her hand. He kissed the back of her hand gently then stroked her jaw line with the backs of his fingers. "Donna, I know this is sort of sudden and all, and I would understand if you said no, but could I see you again tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? she asked incredulously.
"Yeah," he said. "Maybe we could have lunch. Do you get to leave for lunch?"
"I've never tried," she said.
"Could you?
"I suppose I could," she said mystified by the idea. "I get an hour, I think."
"Great, I'll meet you across the street from the White House, you know in the park," Paul said anxiously. "We can make it like a picnic."
"Okay," she said excitedly. "But what if it rains?"
"I doubt it ever rains around you," he said and suddenly kissed her.
She was startled but calmed herself quickly. She knew she was nervous and decided it has been too long since her last date. She was just out of the loop on dating etiquette and practices.
"Tomorrow?" Paul said as they parted. She nodded, and he returned to the street and waiting cab, disappearing with long, graceful strides.
She was still grinning foolishly when she entered her apartment. She was a new person. She could feel it. She was focused with Paul like she never was around Josh. He was simple in a composed and elegant way. No hidden personality snares; no dark spots where tragedy lay hidden; no unpredictable triggers for abrupt mood swings. With Paul, there was one conversation at a time, on topic at a time. There was no tension, no insatiable urge to question all the time; no uncertainty about how 10 seconds of conversation might spark an explosive diatribe or debate that would taint his mood for hours. The change was refreshing. Paul was likable and, more importantly, wanted to be liked back.
She locked her door then turned on the light. As she did, she glanced at the answering machine. The red indicator showed she had a single new message. She pushed the play button and instantly regretted it.
"Donna, you gotta get here as early as possible tomorrow," Josh's voice carried testily from her machine. "The VAWA notes are a mess. I need to get this thing done so Sam can do a final tweak on the speech. I'll be here late. If you get in by 11, check in."
No hello. No good-bye. No sorry to bother you.
She gnashed her teeth and stabbed a delicate finger at the delete button, erasing the nasty tone in his voice and the blight it tossed into her near-perfect evening. She grabbed her phone and started to dial, but suddenly stopped. She disconnected then took the instrument off the hook. She turned out the light and decided to go to bed.
*******************
Donna sat at her desk, surrounded by several other staffers, as she recounted her lovely evening. Their eyes were filled with friendly envy as she recalled for them the simple pleasures of having a door held for her or having someone help her put on her jacket.
In the midst of her tale, she was interrupted.
"Do you have aspirin?" Josh asked, arriving at her desk and dropping a folder of notes from his recent, loud and snarly meeting with several contentious congressmen.
The giggling around her desk was hushed, but it did not cease entirely. It was at just the right pitch to magnify the stabbing pain behind his eyes and through his temples.
"Did you say something, Josh?" Donna asked.
"Aspirin," he repeated tersely.
"Do you have a headache?"
"No, I want go outside and push it to see what the street value is," he snapped.
"A simple 'yes' would have been sufficient," she said mildly as she handed him the bottle from her drawer.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing to the colorful addition to her desk.
"Those are flowers," Donna said. "They're called roses."
"I know what they are," Josh said. "I mean, what are they doing here?"
"Sitting," she said. "That's where I put them."
"Why?"
"They're mine," she said happily. "I thought they would look nice on my desk. Bring a little cheer to this dismal corridor."
"In this dismal corridor, we help manage the greatest nation on the planet and promote freedom and equality throughout the world," Josh retorted. "I really think saying flowers bring cheer is kind of shallow, don't you?"
"No, not really," she disagreed breezily.
"Why do you have flowers?"
"Paul gave them to me," she said with a wide smile as she fluffed the bouquet in its vase.
"Paul?"
"Yes, Paul," she said. "A breathtaking man who adores me."
"Is he gay?"
"No, he is not gay," Donna huffed.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm pretty sure," she said.
"Oh, but not entirely," Josh replied.
"He's not gay, Josh," Donna said firmly. "He's... affectionate. He sends flowers. He loves to work out in a gym every day."
"Sounds like he likes men," Josh said, swallowing the pills dry and handing the bottle back to Donna.
"He does not."
"You just said he loves to hang out daily with sweaty men who shower together."
"He's health conscious," Donna replied.
"Sounds shallow, too."
As he spoke, Sam rounded the corner.
"Donna, do you have any aspirin?" Sam asked. "Josh, another meeting like that, and I'm gonna hurt somebody."
"Sam goes to the gym," Donna said, handing him the aspirin.
"Sam is vain," Josh offered.
"I'm what?" Sam inquired.
"Josh says your vain," Donna replied.
"I am," Sam said proudly. "But when you look like I do, you kind of have to be."
"You're jealous," Donna said.
"I am?" Sam replied. "About what?"
"Donna's dating a man, possibly a latent homosexual," Josh answered. "The guy has some character flaws that may include shallowness."
"I have no reason to be jealous of that," Sam objected.
"Who of us would?" Josh replied.
"Paul is dreamy," Donna said. "I think he used to be a model."
"You're not really helping your argument," Josh said. "What do you know about this guy, Donna?"
"I know you sound jealous," she said.
"Pete..."
"Paul," she corrected him instantly.
"Whoever," Josh said. "You can date whoever you wish. I have no reason to be jealous. Do I, Sam?"
"Sure," Sam said flatly. "Donna, you could be dating Ghandi, and he wouldn't care."
"No, she couldn't," Josh disagreed.
"You'd be jealous if she dated Ghandi?" Sam asked.
"No, but she can't date him," Josh replied. "He's dead, Sam. Has been for decades."
"So why do you care?" Sam asked.
"Why don't you go check on the inventory of the nuclear weapons in Kyrgistan."
Sam opened his mouth, paused, then closed it tightly. He turned on his heel and retreated from the conversation with the bottle of pills in hand.
Josh walked into his office. Donna followed close at his heels.
"He's a computer scientist and studied physics, too," she continued.
"No, I believe Ghandi was a lawyer by trade," Josh said.
"Paul," she said. "He's brilliant. He thinks outside the box."
"Box, closet, whatever," Josh said.
"You sound a little insecure," Donna observed.
"About what?" Josh asked massaging his temples.
"About Paul being a former model and genius who works out a lot," she said.
"I do not sound insecure," Josh said. "I sound uninterested. You, on the other hand, sound juvenile with your pathetic drooling over this guy you don't even know. I expected better from you, Donna."
"You're threatened by him," she said with a nod of her head.
"Donna," Josh said raising his voice. "I am a trusted, senior advisor to the President of the United States. I am a graduate of Harvard and Yale. I am a Fulbright Scholar, and there is even a fan club in my honor out there somewhere. What possible reason could I have to feel threatened or jealous about from your pretty boy computer hack?"
She looked at him sincerely and a clenching in her chest. She lowered her voice. The light feeling she had when she entered the building that morning was gone. She felt deflated and tired.
"Nothing, I guess," she said simply.
"Good," Josh said. "Now, are you planning on working at all today? 'Cause I'd really hate to think I was going to interrupt your Paul adulation moments with something as trivial as administering democracy. Refresh my memory: you're my assistant, right? Could you maybe do something helpful?"
She turned around and walked out of his office, slamming the door in her wake. Josh pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to combat the pain.
"That is not helpful!" he yelled.
**************************
The week passed at a snail's pace. The office chatter took notice of the cold war heating up between the Deputy Chief of Staff and his assistant. There was a running, yet civilized, battle being waged. Formerly cute quips between them had turned into nasty digs and eventually stopped altogether. Conversations of more than one word exchanges were becoming rare.
Late Friday morning, Josh returned from Capitol Hill, a vile mood on his horizon. As he passed Donna's desk, he noticed a new floral decoration had replaced the succession of arrangements that appeared throughout the week.
"More flowers?" Josh observed as he passed her desk.
"No thanks, I have some already," Donna said.
"I mean, again?"
"Uh huh," she said with an ear-to-ear grin the likes of which he had rarely seen on her.
"Why did he send flowers again?"
"Because," she paused. "Just because. Isn't that sweet? Doesn't it sound romantic?"
"It sounds contrived and guilt-laiden," Josh said. "What did he do wrong?"
Donna rolled her eyes. She considered trying to explain the finer points of gentlemanly curtesy and courtship to Josh but stopped short. She didn't believe he would understand. She was find it difficult to stomach his attitude. Of course, the more ornery Josh became, the more appealing and refreshing she found Paul. There were no games with Paul. She liked him and was allowed to express that; he liked her and was able to say so.
Donna was making a conscious effort to avoid comparing Paul to Josh. It wasn't easy, though. Her crush on Josh, and that's what she considered it since meeting Paul, was fading. Josh accepted her into a world she might have had no other chance to enter and for that she was grateful. She was a high school graduate, yet she was the assistant to one of the most powerful men in Washington, DC She had been impressed by his knowledge and energy. Her feelings for Josh, she decided, were more akin to having a crush on your favorite teacher rather than falling for someone you genuinely cared about. Because, she reasoned, could it ever have been real love if the man simply didn't or couldn't love you back?
Still, it took a considerable effort not to rate the two men against each other. There were similarities. Paul was smart with clever thoughts; Josh was intelligent with brilliant ideas. Paul was funny; Josh was quick-witted. Paul was full of energy; Josh was restless. Paul was aspiring; Josh was ambitious. Paul was mysterious; Josh was reserved. In the visual aesthetics department, the margin was slightly wider. Paul was a classic male beauty, with chiseled cheekbones and a strong chin; he had modeled for several ads to help pay his college tuition. His face held equal aspects of the angelic and rugged. Josh was handsome in his own quirky way; he had intelligent, riveting eyes and wry sexy smile that was as warm and contagious.
Both men were kind, though Paul was eager to show outward signs of affection. Josh was abrupt in his manners and a charitable assessment of his social skills would be to call them stilted. Donna knew Josh was capable of sensitivity, but it was buried beneath layers of skepticism and old, emotional scars. Josh kept so much hidden. After just a week, Donna felt she knew almost much about Paul as she did about Josh, with whom she had worked side-by-side for more than 15 hours per day for four years.
"He didn't do anything wrong," Donna said finally, putting her mental tally to rest. "He did absolutely everything right. The flowers merely continue his streak."
"A dozen roses after a date or two?" Josh asked. "Guy sounds unstable."
"It's more than two dates, thank you," she said turning her back to him. "He is not a unstable. He's charming."
"He's sounds desperate, too," Josh said.
"He's captivating and entrancing and positively dreamy," Donna said with an coy grin. "He's sent me flowers every morning for this week."
"Is he a stalker?" Josh commented hotly. "Donna, let me clue you in on some basic male psychology. No normal guy sends $100 worth of flowers even once per week to a woman he just met unless he's afraid of being sued and/or fired; or he's a smooth predator. I mean, don't you think so much attention is kind of ... flagrant?"
"No," she said simply.
"You don't?" he asked. "He's marking territory. He's throwing up a big sign that says 'I claim this woman.' You can see it from one hundred yards away; that's how far back he wants every other guy to stay."
"Is it working?" she asked.
"What?"
"Are the flowers driving you away?"
"No," he replied.
"Then I don't think there's any worry," she said. "Red roses are not a testosterone repellent."
Josh shook his head. He took one final look at the bouquet and marched into his office in disgust. He spent the rest of his day working on a variety of legislative issues and refining the administration's position for the upcoming conference. His communication with Donna was brief and terse, as it had been for a week.
Their interactions had been reduced to simple requests from him and one word responses from her most of the time. It was a quiet, civil form of communication. And it hurt him more than he was ready to admit. There were no impromptu discourses on whatever book or magazine she had read recently; there was no session of her providing advice to him on issue about which he neither thought nor cared; she did not request any explanations about any of the issues on his calendar for the week. A late dawning fear rose in his chest as he began to realize she no longer cared.
All week, she had left the building for lunch. It was strange not to have her around as much, but by the end of the week, Josh was beginning to feel relieved when she was absent. The chill in the outer office was causing a draft that made him uncomfortable and more irritable than usual. Not even his weekly verbal tangles stray Republicans on the issues of gun control or education spending could lighten his mood.
Josh was spending more of his time in the office solo. Donna had begun leaving post-it notes on his door and chair to inform him of calls or information he needed. He couldn't be certain she was avoiding him, yet it felt that way. She ceased coming in early; didn't stay late and took her lunch hour outside the west wing. There was a brief hello in the morning, but it was mostly pro forma. There was no longer anything in the way of friendly banter. It bothered him, but he knew he had no reason to complain. She was getting her work done. That she was doing fewer of the above-the-call-of-duty tasks than she did formerly was not a reason for a performance review.
His main issue, he knew, was that he felt neglected. Donna was ignoring him.
As noon rolled around on Friday, Josh passed Donna's desk. Thursday's bouquet of flowers sat unmoved on the corner of her desk. From snatches overheard in the halls, he understood that Mr. Wonderful continued to have new sprays delivered to her each evening when she arrived home. Josh gave an evil glance at the flowers then stomped into his office, slamming his door to shut out the hum of the building.
While he was quietly spitting nails in his office, Donna was sitting on a bench in the warm sun, listening to the adulation being poured over her.
"I mean it," Paul insisted. "I just can't stop thinking about you. I even dream about you now. I know we just met, but you're all I think about. I feel like I've known you all my life. But at the same time, you're like no one I've ever met before."
She playfully slapped his hand. She got a jolt as they touched.
"I was talking about you today, too," she said.
"Why?" he asked sternly.
"I was telling everyone what I great time I've been having," she said easily. His stern expression melted into his appealing smile.
"Really?" he replied.
"Yeah, they want to know all about you," Donna said. "They can't stop asking. Where does he work? Where did he go to school? Where is he from?"
"What did you say?"
"Nothing really," she replied calmly. "I didn't say anything about your job, if that's why you're concerned. They're just curious. I think a few of them just want to know where they can find someone like you for themselves. I know where I work can see kind of intimidating, but once you get to know these people, you'll see their just like everyone else."
As she spoke, she heard her name being called in a brief hello. Sam Seaborn was walking passed them with his briefcase in hand. Donna noticed Paul stiffen as Sam passed. She decided it was time for an introduction.
"Hey Sam, come here for a second," she said. "I want you to meet someone."
Sam approached and removed his sunglasses to appraise the man seated beside Donna.
"Sam, this is Paul Midland," she said happily. "Paul, this is Sam Seaborn, the Deputy Communications Director. Sam writes a lot of the president's speeches."
"Nice work," Paul said offering his hand to Sam.
Donna noticed Sam's face twitch from a smile to a wince as they shook hands. She pressed her hand to her mouth not to smile. Paul was strong and his grip firm. He had surprised Donna with his strength when he made spontaneous movements like taking her hand or stealing a kiss.
"I try," Sam said smoothly. "Hey, Donna, do you know if Josh finished the thing he was working on for me?"
"He snarled something before I left," she said tossing her head back. "He's a Class-A grouch this week, so I'm avoiding all unnecessary conversations."
"It's important," Sam said. "We've been on this thing almost every night."
"I know," she sighed. "I have a sinking suspicion I'll be with you guys late tonight so that it gets finished."
"It's a date," Sam said with a wink. "Nice meeting you, Paul" He nodded and headed across the street.
"What did he mean by that?" Paul asked.
Donna giggled.
"I think that's cute," she said, tapping his hand. "You're jealous of Sam."
"Should I be?"
"Of Sam?" she laughed out loud. "Of course not. I'm going to be up to my eyes in research while Sam and Josh send me scurrying to check some detail that concerns them. They'll spend their time being fascinated by numbers and obscure facts and telling each other how impressed they are by their intelligence. All the while, I'll be there trying to keep order over their random thoughts numerous conclusions. That's Josh's idea of a good time. Not mine."
"Josh," Paul repeated flatly. "Your boss? The one who leaves those rude messages for you on your answering machine?"
"They're not rude," she explained to him yet again. "Josh is just impatient. He lacks social graces when he's... well, most of the time, but you get used to it."
"I think he takes advantage of your good nature," Paul said. "He treats you like his personal slave. I'll be he never thanks you for all you do. That's cruel. I couldn't work with someone who was always mad at me."
"He's not mad at me," Donna said. "He just gets frustrated because the universe doesn't always conform to his whims and wishes."
"I don't see how you can work for a guy like that," Paul said. "No offense to the president, but this Josh sounds like a real head case. Frankly, having someone like that in a position of power would worry me. Have you ever thought of doing something else? I mean, someone as smart as you are could do all kinds of things. You deserve better than you get from him. Don't you'd get tired of his attitude?"
She considered his words. She was sick of Josh's attitude. She was being kind when she referred to him merely as a grouch. Even in his grouchy moods, he had playful moments when he would afford her great latitude to ask questions or give explanations. Recently, she noticed scornful looks and truncated interest in anything she had to say. She sensed he was being stridently cold and aloof. However, she wasn't sure if this was new behavior. She wondered if Josh had always been this way but she was only noticing now because she had Paul in her life as a comparison on how a gentleman should behave. Whatever Josh's problem was, she didn't want to be the one to fix it. She didn't have time or interest to wait out his temper tantrums any longer.
"Don't worry about Josh," she said dismissively. "I just ignore it."
"Could you ignore it tonight?" Paul asked.
"Tonight?"
"Yeah, I want to see you," he said.
"You've seen me every night and every day for a week," she said.
"Don't you want to see me?"
"No," she said, blushing. "I mean, yes I do. I just don't want you to get sick of me."
"Donna, I could never get sick of you," he said softly as he whispered into her ear. "I'm in love with you."
*********************
The sun began to sink and with it Donna's mood. Josh had been pecking away at his computer and muttered about the issues he and Sam were trying to smooth over. She had not officially been asked to stay late, but from the lack of progress she deduced Josh was making, she was certain her evening was going to be spent in the office with the surly lord of the manner.
"Okay, what do you need?" she asked from his doorway. "The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can get this thing done."
"What I need is full concentration," Josh said, without looking up from his computer. "If I can't have it, I don't want you here. So, why don't you go?"
"What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.
"Leave," Josh said, still intent on the glowing screen. "Sam and I will take care of everything. We've done it all week without you for the most part. I see no reason to change gears now."
"Are you sure?" she asked, pleased but feeling a little insulted.
"Donna, we're going to be here until dawn getting this thing shored up for the conference next week," Josh said. "Face it, you and I... Well, lately..."
"I know," she agreed.
"Yeah, well, Sam and I have a lot to do and nothing can get in the way of that," he said. "Ginger said she'd stay again. She's been helping us."
"Okay," Donna said brightly, though some part of her was disappointed. "If you're sure. You aren't going to change your mind as soon as I get home, are you?"
"I don't have the time," Josh said in a detached manner as he typed furiously.
"Okay," she said slowly. "I'll see you next week."
"Whenever," Josh replied.
She clenched her jaw and bit back several nasty rejoinders. She was being dismissed for the evening, brushed off as insignificant. More and more, Donna was beginning to agree with Paul's assessment of her situation with Josh. She had never thought ill of Josh previously, even when his harsh moods rained down upon her, but her formerly boundless resilience and patience for his abrasive nuances had worn precariously thin in a short period.
She left his office and retrieved her coat. She bent over her flowers and inhaled their luscious fragrance. It revived her mood. She smiled in a giddy fashion as she dialed Paul's number. She informed him that her plans had changed and she was free. He agreed to meet her at her apartment in an hour. He would not say what he planned specifically only that he thought they should spend a quiet, private evening together. She disconnected feeling light and refreshed. She put on her coat and started down the hall when she heard Josh call to her.
"Donna?"
"Yes," she responded with a hiss. She turned around and saw him standing in his doorway looking at her. "What now?"
He saw the annoyed expression on her face and the pinched frustration between her eyes. Her gaze and tone stung.
"Nothing," Josh said with a shrug. "Just have a nice evening."
"Oh," she said turning around again. "Thanks."
Josh watched as she walked away. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and a cold ache near his heart. The sensations bothered him, but before he could ruminate on them, the beeper perennially attached to his hip went off. He looked at it then turned on his heel and walked toward Leo's office. His plans for the evening had just changed as well. Part of him was pleased in a detached way. A minor political crisis was on the horizon and would soon be taxing his eternally-tested nerves and his intellectual stamina. It would rob him of even the hint of a peaceable weekend, but it would insure he kept his mind occupied; he would not have the time to wonder what Donna might be doing.
*************************
After a long Friday evening of manning phones, drafting compromises and twisting several political arms, Josh returned to the office on Saturday where he and Sam put the final stones in place for the administration's position they had spent a week crafting. Josh was pleased with the result, as was the president.
Josh was also amazed. He had done it without Donna's assistance. As Saturday dragged into evening, he completed several neglected issues from the previous week. He also began to realize that he did not need her as much as he thought. He was capable of working with others and being successful at it. No one else was quite as in-tune with his needs as Donna was, or at least had been, but adjustments would just take some practice.
He did not delude himself, privately, on the fact he did still miss her presence. Donna, for all the annoyance he showed her, complimented his personality in many ways. They had been a good team. He did not need her around, but he liked having her there. It was the difference between need and want. It was a powerful distinction, he realized. It was disheartening to him to realize he had perhaps reached the conclusion too late.
Still, he managed not to bother her at all after she left on Friday evening. He did not even lift the phone to call her throughout Saturday. He put in a simple 17 hour day and decided he would return for a few more the following day, to get a jump on the upcoming week.
Josh arrived at the office Sunday morning feeling refreshed after nearly five consecutive hours of sleep during the night--a new record for him (not counting the time he was under anesthesia to have a bullet pulled from his chest).
Far from being deserted, the west wing was alive with commotion. There was the clatter and chaos of the office; people scurrying in all directions in all states of enthusiasm and panic. The difference was the dress code; suits and ties were replaced with jeans and T-shirts. Dressed in comfortable, faded attire and sunglasses, Josh breezed through the halls feeling rejuvenated.
This was what it was all about, he thought. Relentless dedication, even on a weekend. These are my people. This is my world. My Nirvana.
He made it to his bullpen soaking in the bright, early morning sun slipping in from the windows. As he passed Donna's desk, he looked at the wilted bouquet. The flowers drooped the pedals no longer vibrant; the stalks bending and anemic. He shook his head and let any sour thoughts fade quickly. .
As he entered his office, his phone rang. Out of a newly-started habit, he answered it himself.
"Josh?" a female voice asked tentatively.
"Who is this?" he responded cautiously.
"It's Tracy," she said. "Donna's friend."
"Oh, right," he said placing the voice with the face. "Tracy. Yeah. Donna's not here."
"I know," she said. "Something's wrong."
He could hear the fear in her voice. It cut across the line like a straight razor.
"What?" he asked urgently.
"I don't know," Tracy said. "I tried calling her, and she won't answer."
He relaxed and rolled his eyes. He chided himself for his hasty emotional reaction.
"She's probably with lover boy," Josh said dejectedly. "Try cloud nine if you can find it."
"No, she's not with him," Tracy replied. "I saw him out last night in Georgetown. He was with some other woman. I asked him where Donna was, and he said to mind my own damn business."
Sound advice, Josh thought but didn't say so. He remained quiet.
"Josh!" Tracy said. "Look, I don't know who else to call. I went to her place. I know she's there. She wouldn't open the door. Something is wrong. I know it."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Something!" she shouted. "Aren't you concerned?"
His instant response would have been no, except he knew the truth was the opposite. He thought for a moment and reasoned out why he should invade Donna's privacy when she so obviously wanted to put distance between herself and him. It didn't take long to rationalize the intrusion. She worked for the White House. She could become a political liability or a security issue. He doubted either was true, but his ego felt better having a mildly legitimate professional reason for showing concern.
"What do you suggest?" he asked tiredly.
***************************
An hour later, he knocked on Donna's door.
"Donna, it's me," he said, leaning on the door jamb. "I know you're in there. You're not answering your phone so open the door."
He could hear feet shuffling behind the door. There was no response.
"Donna, I can hear you," he said. "It's nine a.m.,. but I'd bet some of your neighbor's are sleeping. You know I would have no qualms about waking them all up and that will make you very unpopular in your building so I suggest...."
"What do you want?" she asked stiffly.
"I want you to open the door for starters," he said calmly.
"I don't feel well," she said. "I want to be alone. Please leave."
He could hear the tremor in her voice. Her words sounded thick and constrained. There was something else in her tone. Fear.
"Donna, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Talk to me."
"Nothing," she said. "I don't feel well is all."
"Are you sick?"
"No," she said in a high pitched tone.
"Donna, you're not telling me something," he said. "I'm not playing games. Open this door."
He heard the chain release and the bolt snap back. The door opened a crack. He pushed through it and closed it deftly behind him.
Inside, the room was dark. The curtains were closed and there were no lights on. Donna stood 10 feet from him, wearing pajamas. Her hair was flat and bedraggled. Her shoulders drooped; her arms were wrapped tightly at her sides; and her chin was tucked to her chest.
"Hey," he said cautiously. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replied quickly, refusing to look at him.
He approached her slowly. He could see she was shaking. He leaned to the side and tilted his head to look at her face.
"Oh my god," he said slowly. "Donna, what happened?"
A wave of nausea washed over him as he spied the welt on the side of her face. Her lip was puffy, her eye nearly swelled shut and her cheek engulfed in a shiny, reddish-purple cloud.
"Donna," he said, his throat tight. "Did he do this to you?"
"Leave me alone," she said and jerked away from him.
As she stepped away, he observed the tender care she used in moving. He knew there were other marks he was not seeing. His rage ignited. His jaw clenched, but he took a deep breath and controlled his voice when he spoke to her again.
"You need to see a doctor," he said. "And you're reporting this to the police."
She protested, told him to mind his own business and ordered him to leave. He refused.
"It's my life," she told him with her back turned. "I can take care of myself. Okay? So leave. Did you hear me? Leave."
"Yeah, like that's gonna happen," he said and took out his cell phone then dialed. "Let's just take care of this first, then you can throw me out."
He spoke briefly. Donna wasn't listening to the precise conversation. She kept her back to him and tried to think of a million other places she would rather be. When there was a knock on her door some time later, she snapped out of her trace. Cold fear raced through her veins in fear of who had arrived now. Josh answered the door and let in a woman she did not know.
"Donna, this is Karen Gavin," he said ushering her into the apartment. "She's a police officer. She's going to take your statement. Don't say you're not going to give one, either. This is a security issue for the White House. You are obligated to report it."
Gavin looked at him sideways and caught his scant nod. She doubted the veracity of what he had said, but it if helped her get the victim's statement she wasn't going to argue.
"Donna," he said. "While you and Karen talk, I'm going to make a few calls. I'll be out in the hall."
He left and pulled out his cell phone again. He then made three calls. The first to CJ Cregg; the second to a prosecutor who wanted to be a congresswoman and the final call to a jurist. After an hour, Gavin emerged. She said her report would be filed by noon. Josh told her of his plans and thanked her.
He stepped back inside. Donna was seated on her couch, wrapped up in a blanket.
"She told me I should take a shower and get dressed," she said. "Yeah, that will make it all better. Thanks for nothing."
"Be mad at me if you want to," he said. "I really don't care. Now, are you going to see a doctor or not?"
"I'm fine," she snapped.
"Oh yeah, I can see that," he nodded. "Okay, I've got some work to do. A couple things I need from you."
"What?" she asked viciously. "You want me to say you were right? That there was something wrong with him? Oh, Josh, you are so insightful; I should listen to you more often?"
"Actually no," he replied. "Although, that would be nice to hear sometime when you're not being vicious or sarcastic because, generally speaking, I am fairly insightful. But what I was going to say was after I leave, I want you to promise me you aren't going to open this door for anyone except me. I don't care who shows up--even if it's President Bartlet himself. Okay? No one but me."
"Fine," she said dully.
"And next, a small piece of advice to someone who's kind of been where you are right now..."
"You had a boyfriend who slapped you around?"
"No," he said. "But I've spent my share of time walking around in shock."
"Oh," she relented softly and bowed her head.
"Yeah, well, stay away from the windows," he said pointing at them. "I don't know the reason, but they're tempting. So, just avoid them. They break. It hurts. You know?"
She said nothing. He was hoping for at least a nod or the hint of a chuckle, but he was not surprised when none came. He did understand something of what she was feeling. Looking at her vacuous stare and hearing the detached tone of her voice brought back unpleasant memories of his own time in the shock zone. He left a moment later. He waited outside the door until he heard her set the locks.
***********************
Josh returned to the office where he met with CJ. She was tracking down information for him when he arrived.
"Did he do it?" she asked.
"I think so," Josh replied.
"You think so?" CJ asked incredulously. "You don't know? It's not apparent? Are you stupid?"
"Could we not..."
"Fine," she said. "How is she?"
He shrugged. He didn't know and couldn't say. He felt sick. This was his fault, some how. It had to be. Why else would he feel this bad, he wondered.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"Don't know," Josh replied.
"Can we make sure that he suffers?" she asked with a devious glint in her wide eyes. "I know that sounds savage, but I really don't care. I've been thinking, and I've decided it's Okay. It's a matter of degrees. You made a congressman cry two weeks ago. This guy, Josh... This guy needs hurting. Deep, long, debilitating pain. I have suggestions."
"That's very sadistic of you, CJ," Josh said. "I'd be lying if I didn't say you scare me some times. Do you have what I asked for?"
She nodded and handed him half a dozen faxes and a telephone.
*************************
Josh returned to Donna's building just before 6 p.m. He had tried calling during the day, but met a busy signal each time. He was concerned but pushed the ten thousand 'what ifs' out of his mind in order to focus on what he needed to do.
As he arrived, he could hear commotion in the hall. Outside Donna's door stood a tall man with the finely chiseled features Josh now recognized after his afternoon's work. He was pounding on Donna's door, ordering her to open it.
"Get the hell away from there," Josh said loudly through clenched teeth.
"Hey, buddy, this is none of your business," Paul said and turned back to the door and changed his tactic. "Come on, Donna. Sweetie, open up. I'll explain. Look, it was a mistake, Okay? Just let me in."
"I said," Josh continued as he stiff-armed Paul back from the door, "get away from there."
"Who the hell are you?" Paul snarled.
"I'm Josh Lyman," he said icily.
"Oh yeah, the White House guy," Paul said mockingly. "Hey, this is between her and me, pal. I don't know what she told you, but really, it's under control. It was a misunderstanding. That's all."
Josh shook his head and shoved Paul back into the wall with a expressiveness that surprised him as much as it did Paul.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Paul yelled, a tinge of fear in his words. "Who do you think you are?"
"I'm the guy who's gonna kill you if you ever go near her again," Josh said in a calm, icy voice.
"Kill?" Paul laughed nervously. "Sure. Is that a threat?"
"It's a promise," Josh said with a malevolent smile. "But let's make it legal, huh?"
Josh pulled a piece of paper from his jacket. He grabbed Paul's hair and the scuff of his neck viciously, jerking the man's head back, forcing him to look at the sheet.
"This is a restraining order," Josh explained in controlled, civil tones. "It says a worthless, little prick (named Paul Midland) must remain 500 feet away from Donnatella Moss at all times. Are you reading this with me?"
"Go to hell," Paul said, though his voice cracked.
Josh released his grip then threw his forearm across the man's neck, pinning him to the wall. A sharp gurgling noise erupted from Paul, but he ceased struggling and looked into Josh's cold glare. The man's eye's were wide with shock and dismay. He did not try to raise his own hands. He stood still and quaked.
"Let me offer you some sage advice," Josh said eagerly. "Don't say that to someone unless you have the power to make it happen. So, do you?"
There was a long pause as Paul grappled with his situation. He shook and swallowed hard and painfully. The intensity in both Josh's voice and eyes frozen the man in place.
"No," Paul replied hoarsely.
"I didn't think so," Josh said. "Think I do?"
Paul hesitated but as he stared into Josh's fierce stare. He nodded slowly.
"That's right," Josh continued. The coolness in his tone was juxtaposed with the searing glare in his eyes. "Okay, let's introduce ourselves properly. You know who I am now. I know who you are, too. You're a coward and a waste of flesh and air. I'm not afraid of you; I'm not intimidated by; I'm not impressed by you. I could say I've made lessor men than you cry, but I don't think there is such thing as a lessor man than you. I don't even think your a man. Real men don't hit women."
"I never hit her," he said quickly. "It was an accident."
Josh twitched his elbow a stitch higher, cutting off the rest of the excuse.
"No, no," Josh scolded him lightly. "I have no patience for that game."
Josh pulled his weight off his arm. Paul's knees quaked, and he slouched and leaned heavily against the wall catching his breath. He kept his wide and wary eyes on Josh.
"Now that's settled, where were we?" Josh continued amicably. "Oh right, we were reading. Now, believe it or not, Paul, but I'm a lawyer. I'm also a generous man. So, I'm gonna do a little pro-bono work for you right now. I'm gonna explain this order to you; that way there won't be any misunderstandings. Okay? Good. Now, where were we? Come on, Paul. This is a pop quiz. What had you just learned from this piece of paper?"
"I have to stay away from Donna," he replied with a shaky voice.
"Careful, pal," Josh said coldly. "You gotta pass this test, and I don't give partial credit."
"Five hundred feet away," Paul chimed in quickly.
"Very good," Josh said. "There are a couple other conditions so listen carefully. You cannot call Donna; page her; write to her; e-mail her; send a carrier pigeon to her; sky write messages for her; attempt smoke signals, telegrams, mental telepathy or any other form of communication currently invented or ever to be invented. You also can't have any other creature on the planet attempt to contact her or anyone she knows. For how long, you ask."
Josh paused. Paul regarded him skeptically. Josh clenched the collar of Paul's shirt firmly in his fist and intensified his glare. After a moment, Paul caught on and cleared his throat.
"For how long?" Paul asked in a small voice.
"Forever," Josh said with an evil grin as he released his grip.
"They don't make those to exist in perpetuity," Paul objected mildly.
"No, see that's where you're wrong," Josh informed him, slapping the side of his face to make the point. "The ones your previous girlfriends filed against you were not in granted in perpetuity. Oh, you looked surprised. Yeah, I did a little research. I tracked you back to Indiana, Casanova. The cops here in DC now have your full record. Confidentially, it looks like you might have a parole violation to deal with, but hey criminal law is not my bag so you'll have to find someone else to help you there. Anyway, I was telling you about the cops. See, they know all about you, so you probably don't want to ignore this court order. And hey, did I mention the Secret Service knows, too? Funny thing about those guys. You work in the same building as the president, and they get real curious about people who cause you trouble."
"You can't do this," Paul said, his voice strained with fear and fury that had no way to spend itself.
"I already did," Josh said mildly. "But if you're thinking--well, whatever it is you do that passes for thinking--that you'll get some judge to overturn this puppy by saying I used the influence of my office, you're SOL. See, the judge's name here?"
Josh held the page scant inches in front of Paul's face, stabbing at the signature line with his index finger.
"That's the Honorable Raymond Sinclair," Josh explained. "When he signed it, he was having a bit of a gathering at his house. Very exclusive guest list. Two of his guests sort of witnessed the request and the signing. One was this reporter, Jay Trafford of the New York Times. Big time political gadfly. The other was another judge. Last name was Scalia. Sits on the Supreme Court. Anyway, they were fascinated and disgusted by what they heard. So, I think your chances of getting this thing tossed out of court or ripped apart in the press are about as likely as playing ice hockey in hell."
Paul's shoulders sagged in defeat. He tucked his chin to his chest as he stood on wobbly legs.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse and coarse. "I was out of line. It won't happen again."
"Damn right it won't," Josh said as he folded the order and slapped into the breast pocket of Paul's shirt. "Because you will never see her again. Take your hollow apology and get the hell out of here."
"But I love her," Paul snarled.
Josh stood toe-to-toe with him as he spoke.
"No, you don't," Josh said in a vicious, low tone. "But I do. So if you ever come near her again, I will end you. Do you understand me? I will end you!"
Paul turned his eyes away. He slunk down the hall and out of sight. A moment later, the sharp bark of a police siren sounded. Josh went to the entrance of the building and saw Paul sprawled on the hood of a police cruiser being handcuffed.
"What's going on?" Josh asked.
"Got a tip this guy was wanted," a patrolman answered. "Warrant was issued for him a couple hours ago. Someone tipped us off he was here."
"Yeah," Josh said. "I think he's got a restraining order for someone who lives around here, too."
"Thanks, we'll take it from here," the cop said dismissing him.
Josh left the street and returned to Donna's door. He stood alone for a moment, willing his hands to stop shaking. The adrenaline was still pouring into his blood and his heart was trying to hammer through his sternum. He took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. He knocked lightly on Donna's door. It opened instantly.
"He's gone," Josh said.
"I heard," she said incredulously. "I don't believe what I heard."
"I'm sorry about that," Josh said earnestly. "I know it was... unprofessional, but he was a bit hardheaded. I wanted to make sure he understood... uh.... his rights."
She laughed nervously at his description of the controlled yet vicious encounter as "unprofessional." She had viewed the entire encounter through her the spy hole in her door. Though her heart nearly stopped when she first heard Paul's voice outside her door, when Josh arrive her fear evaporated.
She was not surprised by Josh's actions. She knew him to be an intense man who was loyal to his friends. She had heard him put pressure on lobbyists and legislators. She had seem him handle hostile press and handle bigots and zealots out to destroy the staff for personal reasons. She had never seen him physically pin a man against a wall, yet she saw it as merely and extension of his mission to champion his causes. He had not attacked Paul. He had subdued him, and had done so mostly with words. She was flattered Josh had stepped up to the role for her sake.
She also felt ashamed. She could not believe she had been such a bad judge of character. Her judgment had been flawed on two counts. First, in not seeing what Paul truly was. She had fallen for his gifts and pretty face; she thought his jealously was flattering. She also let him taint her thoughts about Josh. She could not believe that she ever tried to compare the two men.
"May I come in?" Josh asked.
Donna nodded and stepped back from the door, letting him enter. After he closed the door, she put her arms around him and choked out a sobbing thank you. She explained that she managed to shower and get dressed but no sooner was she feeling a bit better than the phone rang. It was Paul. He tried apologizing at first but when she refused to talk he started screaming. He called back half a dozen times throughout the day so she was forced to take the phone off the hook. Just when she thought she could relax again, she heard him outside her door. She called the police and prayed.
Josh listened without comment and held her for several moments, until her tears stopped. He then coaxed her to get her coat so he could take her to a doctor.
They arrived at the hospital in silence. She was not made to wait. Josh had arranged for her to be seen instantly. Within an hour, she was walking back to his car with a prescription in hand and knowledge that the pains were merely bruises and not broken bones. They had said little to each other. She made no remark when they returned not to her place but to his. He ushered her into his apartment without comment.
He went to his bedroom and returned with a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants that he handed to her. She took them and changed in the bathroom. She stared at the wallpaper of bruises on her thighs and side. They were as ugly and hideous as they felt. Her face was just as bad, but she knew it would heal.
When she emerged, the covers on one side of his bed was turned down. He handed her the medication and a glass of water.
"You don't have to do this," she said finally.
"I sleep on my couch all the time," he said.
"That's not what I mean," she replied as he helped her maneuver her bruised body into the bed.
She settled herself as comfortably as she was able as he drew up the blankets. She patted the edge of the bed. He sat down and peered at her with concern, but shifted his eyes away when he spoke.
"Donna, if you don't want to say, that's Okay, but, did he...."
"Rape me?"
"Yeah."
"No," she said. "He just went berserk. He started accusing me of flirting with Sam and any other man at the office. I don't know where it came from. We were just joking I thought and then he just snapped."
"Okay," Josh said, petting her hand to calm her. "I'm sorry it happened, but I just... I'm glad it wasn't worse."
"Thank you," she said as tears welled up in her eyes. "Josh, I'm sorry about everything."
"It's not your fault," he said.
"How do I thank you?" she asked.
He seemed startled and perplexed by the question.
"You don't," he said. "How many times have you taken care of me? I owe you a lot more than this, Donna."
"I wanted to... be helpful to you," she said clasping his hand. It was warm and strong but passive--everything she needed just then.
"You are... sometimes," he agreed with the hint of a smile. "I mean, would it kill you to get me coffee once in a while?"
"Josh," she said, playfully swatting his forearm, as she suppressed a laugh. "Be serious. It hurts to laugh."
She fell silent after a moment and considered his face. The frequently perturbed air was replaced by his rare but worried yet soothing and peaceful expression. She relaxed and smiled wanly at him.
"Did you mean what you said?" she asked tentatively. "To Paul, I mean."
"I'm not planning on killing him, if that's what you worried about," Josh said. "Leo already told me he would have a big problem with that; it seems it would be bad for the administration's image. Besides, CJ wants to torture the guy for eternity. Apparently, she's made some plans."
"No, Josh," Donna sighed. "When Paul said he loved me."
"He didn't, Donna," Josh said quickly. "That's not what love is."
"I know," she replied. "But about everything you said..."
"I was just stating the facts," he said.
She took a deep breath. The painkillers were filling her brain with a thick haze. She felt like she was floating. She gazed up at Josh, into his eyes, and smiled again. He relented a brief smile and turned off the light, but she held tight to his hand for a moment longer.
"You said you loved me," she said softly as she drifted off.
"Like I said," he replied and kissed her forehead. "Just the facts, mam."