Author's Note: Okay guys- part 2: Here's what you'll need to know so no confusion: I'm giving Joey the rest of the week and

Author's Note: Okay guys- part 2: Here's what you'll need to know so no confusion: I'm giving Joey the rest of the week and the weekend to get her polling data, get Kenny back from vacation and in Washington for the 1:00 am meeting (which would be the next Sun- or I guess real early Mon) from "18th and Potomac." Spoilers for that ep, by the way

Friday, April 14th, 1:48 pm Number of times had excellent banter with Josh 0. Number of times had okay banter with Josh 0. Number of times tried to have any kind of banter with Josh but was unsuccessful 124.

There must be something in the water at the White House.

I'm serious. And this is so not a Margaret muffin like paranoia. It's palpable. CJ, Sam, Toby, Leo, Josh -all of them look like they've been hit by a bus. Several times. At high speeds.

There is a cloud of doom over the White House. I know it.

Then of course yesterday I was feeling like it was going to be a pretty swell end of the week so it might not be a wise thing to take my premonitions to heart.

I think it might be the tobacco thing. Josh had me send the reports from the counsels' offices on the lawsuit to Leo so I guess he really wants to have this fight. And he should. I peeked at the numbers and quite frankly, if he doesn't try to help them get the appropriate amount of funding, I might just have to bitch-slap him around a bit.

You know, more than usual.

And Joey Lucas was in town. Yep. Apparently some poll having to do with beets or something. Bonnie really wasn't sure the exact nature of the meeting (an eavesdropper can only do so much) but she's certain that Josh saw Joey at the airport last Thursday and that there was some discussion of agriculture.

He never told me. Bastard.

How dare he not tell me that he's skulking off to a rendezvous with Joey friggin' Lucas leaving me worried sick that a satellite would collide with Earth and cause both major property damage and loss of life?? How???

And what the hell is going on with beets that should be of such great importance that a) the Deputy Chief of Staff has to deal with the crisis personally, and b) that a poll be executed, and for that matter c) that Joey Lucas be called in to help?

I get the distinct feeling that I'm out of the loop.

I should do something about that. I'm the Deputy-Deputy Chief of Staff goddammit and if there's a problem with this nation's beets, I want to know!

"Josh!"

No reply. This is what I have to deal with now, folks.

"JOSH!"

"Okay- not deaf." It's been simple sentences and one word answers all morning. And he's only half paying attention to that report he's leafing through. Oh well, Lyman, saddle up for an argument.

"But guess who is?"

"Who is what?"

"Deaf."

"Could be me after that greeting."

"JOSH!"

"I was wrong."

"Joey Lucas." I say this in my most severe tone. I'm hoping he'll pick up on it.

"You know what? You're right."

"Yep. You know what else?"

"I couldn't possibly care less"

"She apparently cares a lot about beets."

"What?" He perks up. Honestly. The first time in the past few days I've actually seen him lift his droopy eyelids. "What did you say?"

"Beets." Josh, you are going down. "I said she cares a lot about beets."

"And you would know this how?"

"Because if she didn't, she wouldn't fly all the way to Washington, now, would she?"

"She flew to Washington because she cares a lot about beets."

"Yes. And she's gathering her rosebuds."

"What did we say about that phrase?"

"Yeah and I thought that you kept me informed about your appointments! Is there a problem with beets? You can tell me."

"Donna-"

"Really. I just want to know they're still safe to eat. They are still safe to eat, right?"

"Don-naaaaaa-"

"Or was there some other reason you met her at the airport?" Oooh, genuine Lyman shock written all over his face. "Are you gathering rosebuds now?"

"How do you know? How do you know that I met Joey Lucas at the airport?" He seems very concerned now. He's speaking in a very urgent tone and quite frankly, he's scaring me.

"I cannot divulge my sources," I quip. Keep it light. Oh my, what have I gotten myself into.

"You mean someone else, other than you, knows I met her"

"Yeah. So what? It's just beets."

"Yeah. Just beets. Who told you?"

"Nope. Still not telling."

"Donnatella Moss, who told you?" He practically screamed at me. I'm torn between hurt and anger. I can barely speak. Why the hell is this so important? And why is he interrogating me more than I'm interrogating him?

"Bonnie," I whisper.

"Okay. Okay." He sits down and holds his head in his hands. Looking up, he glances at my face and looks down again.

I shouldn't be in his office anymore. Not only have I given away an identity in the gossip network but I have a feeling I just got Bonnie into big trouble. I should leave now.

"Donna."

Damn! Caught at the doorframe. Should I turn around? Settle for half turn.

"Yes, Josh?"

"Beets are still safe to eat."

"Okay."

"Wouldn't want you freaking out everyone in the West Wing with horror stories about mutated crops." He's trying to lighten the mood. It's not working.

"Okay."

"Donna? You didn't do anything wrong. Bonnie didn't either. It's just"

"Just what?"

"Not something we wanted to publicize."

"Yeah." Turn and go now, away from that bastard and his gathering of other people's rose

"And there was no rosebud gathering from either party!"

Suddenly a little smile appears on my face. Wonder where that came from.

6:12 pm

Talked to Bonnie. Apparently, Josh and Toby had a talk today and made a big show out of closing the office door. Ginger got worried that they had found out that she listens in but Bonnie caught Josh looking at her before he made his dramatic entrance into Toby's office and realized that the gesture was intended for her.

I had to tell her. She seemed sympathetic. She only has to deal with Sam who is very easy to manipulate and con. He's also not good at confrontations.

Josh, while being easy to manipulate and con, is very good at confrontations. Relishes them, even. Hence my being yelled at.

Though she raised a good point: he didn't really answer my question. Why the hell was he meeting Joey Lucas at the airport and what does it have to do with beets?

Since we both really couldn't come up with anything, I told her not to tell anybody else and left it at that.

Josh still is barely speaking to me. Where oh where did the banter go?

9:54 pm

Okay, so again time proves that the best laid plans go awry. (Damn- and right after I had sworn off cliches!)

I had planned to push the par excellence with the banter quotient today.

Josh apparently did not.

In fact, he had absolutely no interest in conversation of any form. A lot of grunting replies. And then of course there was the yelling that once.

And if that weren't bad enough, a couple of times I caught him staring into space, looking at nothing, well, nothing that was visible, but like a small invisible thing in the corner that he was incredibly unhappy about. Like he's seeing visions of his dead hamster that he loved as a boy or something comparatively tragic.

This worries me. This worries me a lot.

I can't imagine why me, an attractive, single gal, fun-loving, with a great personality, should sit and home on a Friday night, completely alone, eating Ben and Jerry's and worrying about her boss.

I should call him.

That would probably not be wise.

But I could make sure he was all right and not breaking windows or doors or some other kind of glass thing.

There's a line that we walk. It's a very fine line between the personal and the professional. Sure, sometimes it gets blurred - like after the shooting. I took him home. Made the rules. Cooked his meals. Cleaned his apartment. Made sure he took his medicine.

Not exactly professional behavior.

Then there's the banter- especially of late. The flirting, the innuendo we walk the line.

The fact that both of us know that we like each other should in no way stop us from doing our respective jobs.

We have drawn the line. It's annoying as hell but it's there.

Calling him would definitely be crossing the border. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself.

No, he can't. He's actually really pathetic that way. Unfortunately, it only makes him more loveable.

It's technically the weekend. I am off duty. No more monitoring of, playing nursymaid for, or supervising of Joshua Lyman.

Doesn't mean I can't worry.

AAAAARGH! Will not under any circumstances spend weekend in anxious speculation about Josh.

Now. Where's that other pint of Chunky Monkey?

Sunday, April 15th, 10:34 pm Number of times have speculated upon Josh's wellbeing 52 (not good but better than yesterday's 86). Number of times have scolded self for unnecessary worry 52. Number of times have dialed his number to check up on his wellbeing 3 (but the last one doesn't count since only got through 6 digits). Number of times hung up in a panic 2 (very restrained).

Very disappointed with lack of Mulder on the X Files. Have resorted to history book in last desperate attempt to make self wise and enliven now non-existent banter with Josh.

10:35 pm

Cannot deal with facts and numbers tonight. Besides, am up to the Civil War and is very depressing. There must be something else around here to improve my mind.

10:40 pm

Decided to clean the living room and found what appears to be one of Chad's books. Chad apparently is much younger than he looks- he's only a junior undergrad at UMBC majoring in English, of all things. I had not noticed that he had a mastery for speech. In fact, he barely showed competence.

But then, most of the time he's sucking face with Candi and doesn't come up for air much.

Middlemarch by George Eliot. Can't be that bad. Will make me erudite, studious, and literary. I can then make insightful comments in my diary and be cited in the foreword of later editions.

10:54 pm

Is really bad. I realize why it was chucked underneath the sofa. Painful. Impossible to begin, much less continue. Maybe will just skip to the end.

10:56 pm

Is really beautiful ending. Almost tempted to go back through and read the whole thing. Okay, not really. But still is beautiful ending. Must write it down:

"for the growing good of the world is partly dependant on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."

I like that. I should tell Josh that. He has looked so worn that he probably needs a reminder that there's good in the world. We all do sometimes.

I feel much better. Think I will go to bed early so I can be bright and witty and cheerful tomorrow. It'll be a better week. No more dire forebodings.

I hope.

Monday, April 16th, 2:34 pm Number of times have recited book's ending to self to help memorization 203. Number of times have said it right without looking 0. Number of times have told Josh 0. Actual sentences spoken by Josh 4. Moral meter very low.

I have been trying not to notice everyone's gloomy countenance today by repeating the last lines of Middlemarch to myself. Haven't gotten it right yet. Josh has big circles under his eyes and has barely been in his office all day. I've said all of two words to him at most. Like "Hello." And "Here" when handing him something he asked for.

It can't get any worse. Our banter is permanently on hiatus. Ugh ugh ugh.

At least I have all this tobacco stuff to keep me busy. Josh is antsy waiting for Leo to get back to him about if he should start greasing the wheels and stepping on people's toes to get the funding for the litigators. He had an appointment with some of the subcommittee members; maybe he's on his way back now.

I should just check, you know, do my assistant duty, and watch out his window.

2:37 pm

No such luck. I wonder if he's.GAAAAAH!

2:38 pm.

Was Ginger. Told her Josh wasn't in but apparently that doesn't matter. Toby wants to see me. Me.

Weird huh? I mean, there is practically nothing that we could talk about. We have nothing in common.

That and the tiny insignificant fact that he scares the bejesus out of me.

We don't talk. In fact, I can't remember a time when me and Toby sat down and had a little tete-a-tete. That's cuz there wasn't any. He probably thinks I'm insane and I think that it is entirely probable that I would say something wrong and he would kill me so we generally avoid one another.

So why would he want to see me?

2:40 pm

Oh. My. God. Maybe it's about the Joey Lucas thing. I'm going to get Bonnie fired. I knew I shouldn't have told Josh, I knew it!

Toby's calling me in to interrogate me and intimidate me and threaten me and Bonnie will be thrown out on the street for leaking to the assistants that Josh and Joey had a private beet conference.

I wonder if I have time to book a flight to Australia. It should be very nice there this time of year. And completely Toby-free.

Maybe I'll just stay here in the comparative safety of Josh's office feigning work. Yes! That's it! I have way too much work to do. That and I'm a big coward.

Hey- it works for Josh.

2:45 pm

Ginger came back. Apparently what she had meant when she said that Toby wanted to see me was that Toby wanted to see me NOW and I should get my butt over there stat before he starts lobbing people's heads off with his rubber balls.

"He's been temperamental lately," she explains.

Uh-huh. I just raise an eyebrow.

"More than usual," she clarifies.

Straightening my red top and flicking my hair behind my shoulders, I follow her out of the office. Have inner strength. Elegant poise. Thoughtful reserve.

And really really sweaty hands.

3:04 pm

Toby told me. The president has MS. That keeps repeating over and over and over in my head.

There's no time to be shocked, he said. Only one on the assistant level who knows, he said. Not Bonnie, not Ginger, not Margaret, not Mrs. Landingham, he said.

Just me. Toby told just me.

I assume everyone else knows. That that's why everyone has been so despondent and tired. Not the water. The best kept state secret is about to go public.

The sky is crashing down.

Oddly enough, I think, "Who's Chicken Little now, Joshua?"

That wouldn't be a tactful thing to say. Not now, when he needs my help. There are a lot of things to get done and not enough hours to do them in. He's been shouldering this all by himself- so typical, just like him to handle emotionally jarring situations like this, by bottling every single emotion up until he bursts- and it's taking its toll.

I need to help him. I can't bear to see him like this. I can't bear to see any of them like this.

I was surprisingly calm when I talked to Toby. And when I left his office. I guess all that talk about inner poise finally worked.

Then I decided I'd stop in the ladies room for a second. And I just stood in front of the sinks shaking. I could see myself shaking in the mirror. My hands weren't steady. I splashed some water on my face and when I stared back into my reflection all I saw was fear.

It looks like I may not have politics to help me stay in close proximity to Josh very much longer.

No. NO. No no no. We faced down worse demons, Joshua Lyman and we will face down this one. Side by side, hand in hand, deputy and deputy-deputy will take the nation by storm. Cuz he's the dude and I'm the girl he thinks he likes. Cuz he went down in history as the Deputy Chief of Staff who told a senator to take his legislative agenda and shove it up his ass and I was the one who handed him the phone. Cuz he almost got killed and I nursed him through it and we're both still here.

Josh isn't back yet. I can't sit here and do nothing.

I gotta find Toby.

He's in his office. Good. I enter and shut the door. Sorry gals, no listening to this.

"Uh, Toby?"

"Donna."

"Josh, um, isn't back yet from the thing, but I was wondering"

"Hmmm?"

"Is there is there anything I can doto help, that is?"

He looks up from his laptop and typing is suspended for a few brief moments. He's giving me an odd look. If it was anybody else other than Toby, I would have said it was respectful. Like admiration or otherwise. "Uh- yeah. There's a room, in the basement, where we've been having meetings. You could go down there and see what needs helping."

"Okay."

"There's a password: Sagittarius."

"Sagittarius? Why Sagittarius? Is it the President's sign or something?"

He gives me a look like he couldn't possibly care less or fathom how I could fixate on such a meaningless detail in such a serious matter. Big heavy Toby sigh. "Just tell the guards and they'll let you in."

"Yeah, okay." Big awkward pause. "I'll just go now." Rapid scuttle, rapid scuttle!! Go, go, GO!

"Okay," he mumbles, his words barely audible over the clickety-clack of his typing.

At least I emerge with my dignity and my life. Not to mention Bonnie's job being free from harm. For the meantime anyway.

Now, to find that room.

8:37 pm

I always wanted to be a secret agent. James Bond lives a very glamorous lifestyle and I thought it would be cool to do covert operations, sneak around in the dark of night and use code words to communicate with other agents.

If the past couple hours are any indication of what that's like, I think that Ian Fleming has got a lot of explaining to do.

I have been so on edge. Conscious of every single move I make, every word I say. I have a rotten poker face. I could never keep a secret. And now, I'm being trusted with the biggest one in recent political history and quite frankly, I think that it sucks.

Ignorance is bliss. What else is there to say?

I managed to cram two couches into the elevator with the help of my friend Curtis. He used to fix furniture and now he sells it second hand. I probably could have found some other couches somewhere- the White House is a pretty big place- but I'm throwing him some work.

The couches are really ugly. One is upholstered in a hideous shade of pea soup green that looks suspiciously like vomit and the other is bright orange with big red flowers on it.

But hey, it's not like I'm furnishing the Mural Room or anything so it's okay. It's just a grungy room next door to Sagittarius headquarters- that's what I've taken to calling it anyhow. "The secret planning room in the basement" just sounds so contrived.

After adding some blankets and a coffee maker with coffee paraphernalia, I returned upstairs to help Josh get his papers in order for the next day's tobacco meetings.

I slipped into his office and he didn't look up. For once, I didn't mind. I just quietly collated the stack of files I brought in with me until he realized my existence. He seemed kinda sorry when I mentioned how we had barely spoken all day. I felt like my heart would break in two when I saw how god-awful and tired he looked.

And then, when he started that bullshit about the Blue Ribbon Committee I thought I would laugh. It was soooo Josh, to lie effortlessly, with complete skill and tact while a crisis was going on. I permitted myself a smile.

I tried to tell him about my lack of skills at maintaining a poker face. I can't hide anything from anybody- my face is an open book. And I certainly can't hide anything from Josh. So I simply stopped the auto-gibberish and said it all in one word:

"Sagittarius."

Josh looked like he was going to fall off his chair. Told him about the blankets and the couches. He asked me if I was okay.

Truth is, I'm not. None of us are. Not now. But we will be. We will be. "When the hurly-burly's done, when the battle's lost and won"

We'll be just fine.

So now, I'm sitting in the Sagittarius resting room, sipping my coffee and hoping that whatever they're doing now, that they're finding the answers. I know these people. They deserve better than this.

But if anybody can face this down, it's us. I'm not being pompous or cocky, that's the way it is. They're the best. But this might just be the worst.

"Donna?"

"Hi, Josh."

"Nice little set-up you got here."

"I thought you guys could use it. Toby told me that you'd be here pretty much 24-7 and between everything else that has to get done."

"That is one ugly looking couch."

"Yeah."

"Where did it come from? And please, don't tell me it that a former president sat on that thing cuz I might just lose faith in politics all together."

"They're from my friend Curtis. You now owe him $75."

"For that?"

"For both of them."

"This by any chance, wouldn't be the same Curtis who stole my chair for a week would it?"

" Give him a hand, the man has unexpected depth."

"He has really bad taste in upholstery."

"Yeah."

Josh plops down next to me on the orange couch. He eyes my cup.

"No, Josh."

"What?"

"You may not have some. I brought down the coffee maker for the express purpose that you may make yourself your own cup and not beg or steal from me."

"I didn't even ask"

"You were thinking it."

"You can read my mind now?"
"Maybe."

"What am I thinking right now?"

"That you have the most wonderful assistant in the world."

He smiles and nods. Ooooh. Warm fuzzy, warm fuzzy

".and you're taking her to Hawaii?"

"Nope."

".and you're buying her a DVD player?"

"Nyet."

"and you're eternally grateful?"

"Bingo. Can you read palms too?"

"Yes, Madame Donnatella, she knows all, she sees all, give me your hand and I will tell you your future." I was always good at drama.

Smiling, Josh gives me his hand. Ooooooooh. He has really nice hands. And he's really close to me. There should be a line drawn in here somewhere but since I'm too busy affecting accents and fortune telling, the closeness will just have to continue.

"You are going to take down Big Tobacco."

"How did you know?"

"Because you haven't been this perky for a week. Leo greenlighted it?"

"Yeah. We're going all the way."

"Shouldn't we hold off though? Keep the friends we have, instead of making more enemies? The president's"

"Going to show that he's not backing down. That no matter what else, the administration cares about the people of this country and doesn't want to see the cancer rate increase along with the fat cats' wallets!"

"Down, boy. So you're going after them?"

"Oh yeah. CJ's going to add some of my spicy comments into her briefing tomorrow."

"Your spicy comments? Is that like your secret plan to fight inflation?"

"Don-NA." He falls silent all of a sudden. Then he quietly says, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Tell me what? About this?" I gesture to the Sagittarius headquarters next door. "You were under no obligation to tell me You were right not to"

"No. I should have told you. Not Toby."

"He was suprisingly nice about it."

Shaking his head, he sighs. "Yeah. Toby has been it's getting to him. He was the first of us to know and he's going nuts."

"I think we're collectively going nuts."

"Not you. You have been calm. Collected. Efficient."

"And does not all of this merit at least a couple of skis?"

"Donna." He's serious now. He's using the voice and the puppy dog face and help me, help me, help me, I think we're going to have a moment here. "I don't know how you do it."

"I didn't do anything, Josh. All I did was haul a couple of couches out of an elevator. And the guard helped me do that."

He sighs again. My concern kicks in. "You should get some sleep."

"I have a meeting with the president at nine." He glances at his watch. "Only ten more minutes."

"It's two minutes till, Josh. Your watch sucks."

"Yeah. I should go."

"Yeah. I'll be here. When you get done."

"Okay. Donna?"

"Yes, Josh?"

"Thank you, for everything."

"You're welcome."

He walks out, leaving me alone on the ugly couch once more.

I wish I really was a fortune teller. I wish I could look into the future and see things turn out right and give him some honest-to-goodness assurances that the sky will remain intact.

I hope he gets some good news at the meeting. I think I've had all the bad news I can take.

TBC..