Will looks sideways at Donna, who's leaning back in her seat, her eyes squeezed shut tight. He can't tell what she's thinking. He never can.
"It's not what you think," she says, suddenly.
That surprises him.
"What isn't what I think?"
"That—what just happened, just now. It's not—it doesn't mean—what you think it means."
"What do I think it means?"
She's twisting the strap of her purse between her hands.
"There's never been anything between us," she says, very fast. "Between me and Josh. I know people think there was, but there wasn't. Not ever."
Will doesn't know what makes him say it, except that he's a guy, and Josh is a guy, and he's always liked him—respected him, admired him—and felt sorry for him, too, in a strange sort of way—and he's still feeling shaken to the core by what's just happened.
"There ought to have been," he says, shortly, shifting gears.
Donna makes a strange little sound between a gulp and a gasp.
"What—what do you mean?" she asks.
Will shifts again. He's surprised by the sudden surge of anger that shoots through him.
"For God's sake, Donna," he snaps. "He loves you. And you love him."
"No," she protests. "No. I told you—what just happened—it doesn't mean what it looks like—"
"What does it mean, then?" Will asks, a little more calmly.
"Didn't anybody ever tell you?"
"They told me lots of things," Will says. "Almost the first one of which was never, ever to try asking you out, because there'd be hell to pay with Josh if I did."
Donna closes her eyes and bites her lip.
"I know," she says. "I know he always did that. But that was just—Josh. Liking to control things. Liking to control me."
"Guys act like that," Will says, "when they're jealous."
"Will—"
"Look," he goes on, a little roughly. "I know it's none of my business. I'm glad I've got you working on my campaign, not his. But that guy just ran into a burning building because he thought you were there; it couldn't be more obvious how he feels about you. And I always thought you cared for him."
Donna draws a long, shaky breath.
"Will," she says, desperately. "He doesn't—it doesn't mean that—what just happened doesn't mean what you think it means. Don't you know? It's because of what happened when Josh was young. His sister—"
Will puts the brakes on, hard. They're right in front of the police station but he hasn't put his signal on, he isn't trying to turn into the lot. He just stops the car in the middle of the street and stares at her. Fortunately the traffic is light and nobody hits him, though the driver right behind him honks in annoyance before pulling around.
"Donna," he says, disbelievingly. "It's not about that."
Because of course he knows. Not all of it, not all the details, but he's heard things, everyone who's worked at the White House has heard some part of that story on the rumor mill, just as they all know that Josh probably has a thing about Donna, and Donna probably has a thing about Josh, though nobody's ever really sure what the hell exactly is going on in either of their heads. The one thing everybody's sure about is that probably nothing has ever actually happened between them, but it should.
"You can't possibly think today was about that," Will says again, flatly.
"Of course it was," she sobs, unfastening her belt and opening the door, right there, in the middle of the street, and Will yells at her to get back in, but she's already out of the car and running across the street to the station. It's a good thing this is a small town and there isn't more traffic, but even so somebody's already honking again from behind him, and a car that screeched to a stop for Donna is moving again so he can't make the turn, and he's so distracted and shaken up still that he just puts his foot on the gas and keeps going, and then he has to circle around the block and come back again before he can turn into the lot and park the car and go in to find them.