Making sure he had his keycard with him, Josh rushed out of the room and made a beeline straight for Donna's door. How the hell was her room just across the hall from his?! What kind of cruel twist of fate was that? He wanted to knock so badly – he hated the way things were between them now. What had happened to them? He felt like he'd been clobbered when she quit (he hadn't thought she was serious!) and now they awkwardly run into each other on the campaign trail, the stereotypical people in the elevator making awkward conversation trope. A year ago, he'd rushed to Germany to be by her side without a second thought and now they can't even make it through an elevator ride and a walk down the hotel hallway without an awkward beat.
He wanted to knock, to see her, to say something to her, but what was the point? What could he say? Did she even care? All those years that they had worked together – since the damn campaign trail. She named herself his assistant back when Bartlet was "the guy" and they were trying to secure him the nomination, and she just left, walked away, as if all those years had been nothing. They had gone through two election cycles, two inaugurations, lockdowns more than once, literally faced life and death, spent the majority of their waking hours together, he'd helped her commit perjury… and she just walked away.
When he told Leo she'd quit, Leo seemed to get it. He'd said good for her, and that people move on.
It was just a job. It was just a job to her, and Leo got it. Good for her, moving on.
It wasn't just a job to him. His job was his life whether that was healthy or not. He spent so many hours in the White House, the only relationships he'd had in years past had been with women whose paths he crossed in politics. He hardly ever went to see his mom anymore. His friends were his co-workers. He loved his job, he was okay with it being his life. And how could he not be? Donna was there. She made the long nights bearable. She helped him out of sticky situations. He had someone to eat lunch with and talk about stupid things with. He enjoyed her company, he liked teasing her. He'd found himself making all kinds of excuses about not going after the Congressman, saying he couldn't leave the White House because he had to finish what he started – because how could he leave her?
Then she just up and walked away.
He'd been confused – was it his fault? Had he not done enough to help her grow? He knew she wanted more, he thought he had been giving her more. He'd tried, when she had said she wanted to be helpful. He'd had her work with CJ's office, and she'd been surprised at first but immediately rose to the challenge. He sent her to Gaza, and .happened. So he'd figured that whole issue had been tabled for the moment. She came back from Gaza and returned to work but it was fresh enough that she was still in a wheelchair and who knew how she felt emotionally. God knows he had experience in that world.
He stood there, poised at her door. He wanted things to be what they were. He wished he'd had the foresight to understand what it was she really wanted. Maybe he could've left the White House to run Santos's campaign, but maybe he should have taken her with him. He should have told her Let's go! You and me! We can find the next President and get him to office, together! She would have gone, clearly. She did leave to do just that. Only if he had been smart enough, she would have been working with him instead of Will. If only he'd really known what she wanted, and how they could've made it work. She didn't belong on the Russell campaign, she belonged with him. He watched her breeze into Will's office, he watched her organize the volunteers in New Hampshire – she was good at what she was doing and of course she was. Donna would be good at anything she put her mind to. He just wished he'd realized sooner how she could've grown with him.
Instead, she just left.
She left and left him with a mean, scary temp assistant that he had to hide from in Toby's office.
He knew in the back of his mind that this wasn't about him – it was about her wanting more. But he was still hurt. He was still mad. He couldn't help it.
He missed her.
He hated not seeing her every day.
He knew he'd let her down.
He wanted to fix it, knock on the door and tell her "We need to talk," or if he was bold enough "I love you," (okay, or… not that, probably). Maybe he should just kiss her when she opened the door, finally just freakin' do it.
But what was the point?
She'd left. It didn't mean the same thing to her as it had to him.
So he turned and went back to his room, swiping the keycard hastily several times before he took Donna's advice and did it slowly.
He hated that that was when it finally opened.