Title: The Rose Garden Conspiracy part 5
Author: Madeleine Mitchell Carr
Email:
Rating: PG
Subject: Josh/Donna, Sam/Ainsley (sort-of, in a very twisted way…)
Spoilers: Five Votes Down/Season 2 up to and including The Leadership Breakfast
Disclaimer: All the characters herein are the legal property of NBC and Aaron Sorkin esq. Sue me not, fair Sirs, as my pockets are empty and I do but dally awhile with these fair mortals and will return them intact, anon.
Summary: A stolen memo, a meeting in the Rose Garden and the IRS. A mystery is afoot. Does it have something to do with Josh's missing coffee mug? And what is CJ hiding in her office? Why is Donna in Ainsley's cupboard with Sam? Just another 'normal' day at the West Wing…
Part 5 - Josh/Donna POV (I'm letting them take turns in this one)
Ainsley Hayes is my new best friend.
I'm even considering overlooking the fact that she's a Republican.
My only regret is that I didn't listen to her properly the last time we spoke. I know, I know, if wishes were horses, we'd all be up to our necks in manure by now and we'd have the biggest, lushest rose bushes in the state. (But more on roses later…)
By the time I've stopped obsessing about Donna's strange behaviour and finally start to listen to Ainsley, the black cloud hanging over my head suddenly looks less gloomy; in fact there may even be a hint of sunlight peeping from behind it. Who knows? Perhaps my guardian angel has finally stopped contemplating his navel, tripped up Nemesis and locked HER in the nearest cupboard.
(Note to self: Don't think about cupboards for the next few hours at least)
Anyway, as I was saying, as soon as Donna had huffily left the room, Ainsley practically swallowed her own tongue in an attempt to get her words out.
"Josh, I was concerned. I was concerned about you. I was concerned because I realised you had left my office unacquainted with the whole truth of my meeting with Mr. Gneiss. I can only blame myself for this. I should have told you the outcome at the beginning, but I was curious. I was curious as to your reaction to the worst-case scenario…"
"Ainsley, slow down! What are you trying to tell me?"
Ainsley closed her eyes and swallowed in an attempt to get her poise back.
"Mr Gneiss had investigated the bequest from Mr. Ziegler's great-aunt and new information was brought to bear on the case"
I was still confused, also rather surprised that she would confess to be concerned about me. I thought she didn't like me. On the other hand, the 'case' as she called it still wasn't sounding good.
"What new information?"
She smiled.
"It's quite amusing, actually"
"Ainsley! Get to the point! What new information?"
Her smile got a little broader.
"Mr. Ziegler apparently failed to inquire as to the nature of his aunt's bequest."
"He did?"
"Yes. She actually left her money to him in the form of a trust. A trust with conditions."
"Conditions?"
"Yes. I will tell you the conditions in a moment, but the salient point here is that this form of trust is exempt from taxation."
My head span dizzily for a moment.
"Say that last bit again"
"It's exempt from taxation."
Thank you, thank you, thank you God.
I put my head in my hands to prevent it flying off now the weight of dread had been lifted from it. Abject relief makes you feel quite weak, did you know that?
"What were the conditions?" I asked eventually, genuinely curious.
Ainsley's mouth twitched, and she said, slightly unsteadily,
"The money is to be kept in trust until Mr. Ziegler's children reach their majority"
Huh?
"Toby, doesn't have any children"
"Yes. If that situation doesn't change, on his death, the money will go to the Republican Party."
She started giggling.
She thought that was funny?
"Ainsley, that's horrible! Toby's aunt was a sick, sick woman. How can you laugh at this! Toby could end up helping to fund the next Republican administration!"
"I know!" [chortle, chortle, chortle]
It WAS sick. It was also, I had to admit, slightly amusing. I couldn't really hold Ainsley's reaction against her - I'm sure I would be doing the same thing if the situation was reversed. Besides, I couldn't help but imagine Toby's expression when we told him the news…
My mouth twitched.
Did I mention that Ainsley is my best friend?
She also has a very infectious laugh and the relief of the news is making me quite light-headed, which is the only explanation I can find for joining in the joke. Laugh? I nearly wet myself.
"Ainsley, you've got to let me tell him!" I say, wiping at my streaming eyes, "Please, please let me do it - it'll make my year"
Ainsley is grinning so widely, she looks like the Cheshire Cat on acid.
"Only if I can be there"
"You're on, bring the popcorn, we'll have a party"
Imagining Toby's look of horror is not doing wonders for my self-control at the moment. I'm also wondering if he'll actually consider dashing out to beget offspring to prevent the worst from happening. I'd love to hear THAT pick-up line…
The world is suddenly a brighter place. Wait 'till I tell Donna about this…
Ah.
That is if Donna ever talks to me again after our little 'close encounter'. What the hell was I thinking? Way to win back the fair maiden, Lyman. Just pin her against your desk, works every time.
"Ainsley?"
"Yes?"
"Er…never mind…um…okay…er"
"What is it?"
"Do you think Donna likes me?" I blurt out. Great, now I sound like an eighth-grader.
"Yes, of course" She says it like she doesn't even have to think about it.
"Really?"
"It's obvious"
"Really?"
"Yes"
"Really?"
"This could go on for a while. Why don't you just take my word for it"
"Okay"
Maybe I should go and thank the President for hiring this woman…
"But…"
Or maybe not.
She looks pained and embarrassed when she blurts out,
"…I don't know what's going on between her and…um…Sam"
The clouds start moving in again. Must be a low-pressure system somewhere around here.
"I don't know either" I sigh. And it's the truth. My outlook on life my be slightly more…positive than it was a while ago, but I still can't think of any reason for Donna to be in a cupboard with Sam. I'm trying really hard to give them the benefit of the doubt as well, so it's not as if I've resorted to my usual brand of psychotic paranoia over Donna's gomer boyfriends.
Me and my buddy Ainsley half-heartedly suggest a few likely scenarios, but despite our best intentions, they come out sounding either insane or borderline pornographic, which doesn't do either of us much good. In fact, Ainsley is beginning to look sad and depressed, so I'm not surprised that she starts making 'I have to go now' motions with her arms. I guess brooding's not a group activity.
She's really all right, you know?
"Ainsley?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. Seriously, thanks for everything"
She smiles warmly at me, even looks a little emotional and impulsively, 'cos I'm a tactile kinda guy, I hold out my arms to her. She looks surprised, but pleased as well, and after a moment's hesitation, steps right into my hug.
Well this is nice…
"Josh!"
"Sam!"
"Ainsley!"
"Sam!"
"Josh?"
…should have known that Nemesis is never out for the count for long.
****************************************************************************************
It's not every day that you find a dead fish in your shoe. For most people, it's not any day that you find a dead fish in your shoe. In fact, 99.9% of the population of the world will probably go through many pairs of shoes in their lifetime without once encountering expired marine life inside them.
So why does it have to be me?
Why do these things always happen to me?
For a few moments, I can only stare in Karmic outrage at the smelly, slimy THING nestling against the Italian leather of my once-lovely shoe but then a number of little events start to click together in my mind.
- Mud. In the Rose Garden and on CJ's shoes
- Rain. CJ was caught in the rain
- The strange smell in CJ's office
- A dead fish. In fact, if I look more closely…Ah, yes, indeed. A dead GOLDFISH
AHA!
I'm adding two and two together and getting about 3.5, because I don't know how the coffee mug fits into all this yet, but I'm pretty damned sure that Ms Claudia Jean Cregg is going to have an awful lot of explaining to do.
Still clutching Josh's mug in a death-grip, I start to march off back to the West Wing, stagger around a little bit, remove my other shoe, then jog back inside, slightly sheepishly. I'm halfway up the stairs when I hear the external door open again. It can only be Sam escaping from the President and I really, really don't want to be anywhere near him again for at least the next fifty years, so I start to run. My comedy pantyhose are flapping soggily against the carpet like penguin feet and the crotch is getting closer to my knees with every step, so with a sigh of exasperation, I veer yet again towards the locker room.
My exposure of the White House Goldfish Conspiracy will have to wait until I've managed to find some more clothes to wear. Talk about deja-vu. Three outfits in one day, and it isn't even time for lunch yet. I'm sure there's a moral in there somewhere, but damned if I know what it is…
Luckily, my fashion sensibilities are so blunted by this stage, that finding clean, dry clothes is my only priority. I strip off the damp muddied suit, leaving on my relatively intact vest top, then remove the black…things with relief and put the sweatpants back on. At least my shoes are pretty much unwearable. Instead, I manage to find a thick pair of sweat socks at the back of my locker and I am ready to face the world again.
All right, so I'm a bit chilly and I look like I've just got ready for bed, but I could always claim it was Dress-Down Day or something. Right?
I make it to CJ's office with the coffee mug clutched in one hand and my shoes in the other. I've only received a couple of curious looks and for once I'm glad that my status as Joshua Lyman's assistant means that strange behaviour is looked upon as quite understandable in the circumstances.
I knock.
"Come in!"
CJ sounds quite cheerful. She won't be for long.
I open the door and my eyes instantly fly to the fish bowl on the shelf by her window. Inside, swimming around quite happily, is a goldfish. Gail Mark 2, I presume. Is she the result of CJ's little shopping trip? (I think I could quite get into this Nancy Drew thing after all)
"Donna! What are you wearing? Don't let Leo catch you wandering about like that"
"I had a little accident in the Rose Garden" I tell her haughtily. She twitches.
"D…did you?"
"Yes. And would you believe what I found?"
Enjoying myself no end, I fish the…er…fish out of my shoe by the tail and brandish it under her nose. She squeaks and turns pale.
"This wouldn't be yours by any chance, would it?"
CJ puts her head down on her desk.
"Come in and close the door" she says wearily.
I comply. Then I put the fish back in my shoe (What? You didn't think I'd actually be wearing them again did you?), place Josh's coffee mug prominently on her desk and sit down, feeling quite smug and self-righteous.
CJ sighs and gives me a wry look.
"I might have known it would be you." She says
I'm not quite sure how to take this, so I stay quiet.
"I've been busy" she half-whispers furtively, "I forgot to feed Gail. When I got here this morning, the poor little thing was floating belly up. She must have died on Saturday night, and stared to rot over the rest of the weekend. Well, you get the picture…"
I recall the smell and wrinkle my nose.
"Okay, but why the skulduggery CJ?"
She looks monumentally embarrassed.
"You know what this place is like, Donna. If anyone found out I'd let Gail die, I'd never hear the end of it. What if Danny came back and…"
She breaks off and blushes.
"You're worried about what Danny would say if he found out you killed his love-gift?"
She blushes more deeply. This is fun.
"NO! I'm not worried about that! And Gail wasn't a love-gift, she was a…a…token of esteem. Besides, she was supposed to be crackers."
"Uh-huh. You know what else is cr…"
"Shut up! You should be on my side!"
"Why? Anyway, what WERE you worried about?"
"I was more worried about what everybody ELSE would tell Danny."
Oh. Okay, fair enough. I can see why that would worry her. It would certainly worry me and I'm impervious.
"Well, in that case, you're forgiven"
She smiles at me.
"But…"
Her face drops. (I should be on the stage)
I point dramatically to Josh's coffee mug, my eyes asking the obvious question. CJ squirms.
"Oh. I forgot about that. Well. Um…I needed to fish Gail out of the bowl and I couldn't find anything to use in my office, so I went next door and…well, it was the first thing I saw."
"You couldn't have used your own coffee mug?"
"Why would I do that?"
I decide to let that one lie as there is another mystery bugging me.
"Okay, but why the Rose Garden?"
CJ blushes again.
"Well, I couldn't bring myself to flush Gail down the toilet and…I dunno really. It seemed like the thing to do at the time"
"Burying a dead fish in the Rose Garden seemed like the thing to do?"
"Er…when you put it like that…I would have put her in a matchbox first, but I couldn't find one."
"A matchbox?"
"Well, it's the right size and shape, you know"
Perhaps Californians shouldn't come East. It seems to upset their mental equilibrium or something.
I now have the facts in my hands. They don't make a lot of sense, but at least some of the nagging little details of my day have been cleared up. It's just the big nagging details I've got to deal with now. However, it now seems that I, a lowly assistant, have possession of some information that I can hold over the head of the Press Secretary. It might be handy to have her about if I ever need a favour…
"CJ. I'm sorry about Gail. I hope Gail 2 survives the winter"
"Well, thank you Donna"
"No, thank YOU CJ. What's it worth to keep me quiet?"
A bit crude I'll admit, but I'm having way too much fun at the moment. There's a very mean and acquisitive part of my brain that's rubbing it's little grey hands together in glee right now.
CJ is staring at me open mouthed
"You wouldn't!"
"Wouldn't I?"
"No! You can't!"
"Can't I?"
"No, you can't" she says in quite a different voice.
For some reason, I don't seem to be enjoying myself quite so much.
"CJ?"
"I didn't mention this before, but after I borrowed Josh's coffee mug from his desk, I stumbled a little coming out of his door and managed to slosh coffee on the carpet."
"You did?"
"Yes. I couldn't leave a coffee stain on the carpet, now could I?"
Oh-oh, she's got that cat playing with a wee-mousie look. What's that saying about pride and a fall?
"You couldn't?"
"No. Unfortunately, I didn't have a tissue with me, so I grabbed a handy bit of scrap paper from your desk."
Oh…Hell
"This piece of scrap paper, in fact" she says triumphantly, grabbing a crumpled and coffee stained, but still recognisable bit of stationary, and waving it in front of my face.
I feel like an eighth-grader caught stealing cookies from the teacher's desk.
"But it's not a piece of scrap paper, is it Donna?"
"…no…" I mumble staring at my sweat sock clad feet.
"And it makes very interesting reading…"
Isn't the ground supposed to open and swallow me up about now?
****************************************************************************************
I'm thinking of putting a sign on my door. It will say, 'Joshua Lyman's Amateur Dramatic Society' and underneath in smaller print, a comment about common sense and taste not being required, or something. I could get Donna to print it out in bright colours, maybe add a border…
I am currently the Dastardly Villain in the play going on in Sam Seaborn's head. He, presumably, is the Wronged Hero and Ainsley the Femme Fatale In Need Of Redemption (and we all know about Sam's enthusiasm for redeeming femme fatales). Suffice to say, if he had a sword, he'd be brandishing it, and I would be twirling my moustache and cackling in a debauched manner.
But you know what? I don't want to play that game, I've been there already today. This has gone on long enough and it's just getting…silly.
"Sam, stop posturing and close the door"
Well, he closes the door at any rate. Can't have everything I suppose. Ainsley and I are treated to the full glory of his present attire - he's wet, he's muddy, he's dishevelled and his hair…well, he looks like he's wearing Daffy Duck comedy wig, frankly. He is also narrowing his eyes menacingly and searching for his next line. He won't get any prompting from ME.
"Sam, don't say anything, just listen. There is nothing going on here but a friendly hug between friends."
"Ha!"
"I beg you pardon?"
"Her? Your friend? Ha!"
He points, he actually points. Ainsley, the object of the point, just looks confused.
"Why did he say that?"
"I haven't the faintest idea"
We watch with interest as Sam's face goes quite pale under the thin coat of dried mud and he shifts his point to me.
"You! You must be in on it too! There's no other explanation! Oh, what a fool I've been! This was some kind of set up, wasn't it?"
I think Toby must be wrong about Sam's lack of punctuation. He seems to be using it just fine at the moment. Overusing, even.
"Sam, I don't know what you're babbling about, but I had a problem earlier, and Ainsley sorted it out for me. That's all."
He deflates like a leaky beach ball.
"Wha…wha…really?"
"Yes, really. In fact, if there's anyone who should be outraged around here, it's me and Ainsley."
"But…but…I thought…"
"I don't think you thought at all. If you'd thought, you wouldn't have tried to lure my assistant into a cupboard. Ainsley's cupboard!"
He flushes.
"Sorry about that, but it was Donna's fault really."
"WHAT?"
Sam shuffles backwards and puts his back against the door.
"You're not going to attack me again, are you?" he says in a small voice.
"I might, " I growl, "if you don't explain what you meant"
I wouldn't really. I'm starting to find this funny in a twisted sort of way.
"Donna pulled us into the cupboard to hide from Ainsley"
Ainsley snorts in a lady-like way.
"Why were you hiding from Ainsley?"
Sam is shooting Ainsley nervous, apologetic looks,
"Because…we were searching her office?"
"WHAT? Why were you searching my office?"
Ainsley can shout good. I start to smile.
"We thought you were threatening Josh, or blackmailing him or something…" he trails off in humiliation as I start snorting with laughter. I stop when I see Ainsley's face however, as she's looking a little hurt under the bemusement and anger.
"What shall we do with him?" I ask her.
She shoots me a grateful look.
"Perhaps he needs medication"
"Maybe. Or we could send him to the President…"
"NO! NOT THAT! ANYTHING BUT THAT!"
Looking like a deer in the crossfire, Sam bolts from the room, leaving little muddy footprints behind him.
Ainsley sighs.
"I think, Josh, that I'll follow Sam. There are a few things that I want to say to him."
Her tone could cut glass. I wouldn't want to be in Sam Seaborn's shoes when this woman catches up with him.
I wave her off and blissful peace descends on my office for the first time in hours. The relief I felt when Ainsley told me about the trust is as nothing compared to what I'm feeling now. There is nothing going on between Sam and Donna. There is a lovely ring to that sentence. I may frame it and hang it on my door instead of the Amateur Dramatic thing…
However, not that she's been up to any good either. I mean, spying on me? Spying on Ainsley? Sneaking about? Hiding in cupboards? What was she thinking? I'll have a few words to say to her too when I find her.
"Josh?"
Well, luck is on my side for once. Looks like she found me first.
"Don…"
What is she wearing?
"What are you wearing?"
Um, not a very good start to my planned scolding session, I'll admit, but I'd defy anyone not to be distracted. She has frizzy hair, for goodness sake! Donna never has frizzy hair. I didn't know her hair could even do that. But that's not the worst of it. She has bare arms. Bare arms in the West Wing? Is that even legal? And no shoes? Has she run off and joined a cult because her boss was coming on to her?
She flushes, but to her credit, doesn't flinch.
"Joshua, my choice of attire is actually quite reasonable given the circumstance"
"What circumstance"
"The circumstance of me being covered in mud and…er…damaging my shoes"
Is this, like, the set up to a joke or something?
"Okay, I'll bite. How did you get covered in mud and damage your shoes?"
She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. She really shouldn't do that whilst wearing a vest.
"I…fell over in the Rose Garden" she says reluctantly, then opens one eye to see how I'm reacting to the punch line.
I'm not reacting at all - I'm still distracted by the vest.
"Josh?"
"Huh?"
She folds her arms - her bare arms - across her front self-consciously. This actually doesn't help. Give me a break, okay? It's February! It's been months since she's worn anything other than a suit or a polo neck.
"Joshua!"
I reluctantly move my eyes to her face and her words finally filter through to my brain.
"The Rose Garden?"
"Yes"
"The Rose Garden! You WERE spying on Ainsley! Why for God's sake?"
I know Donna can seem a bit deranged at times - just one of her little quirks, but spying? She has had a busy morning.
She flushes again, and looks extremely uncomfortable. She looks smaller than usual for some reason, then I realise it's because she's not wearing any shoes.
"I…we…thought she had this" she says and flaps a bit of crumpled paper at me.
"You thought Ainsley had a ratty old bit of paper? That makes no sense on any level. You know that, right?"
She squirms.
"All right. There's stuff written on the paper. About you. And I'm only telling you because CJ told me to"
Okay, I am officially confused.
"What's CJ got to do with it?"
"She had the paper"
"The paper you thought Ainsley had?"
"Yes?"
"And CJ told you to tell me about it?"
"Yes"
"But you don't want to tell me?"
"No"
"But you're telling me because CJ said you had to"
"Yes. We have a…deal. She won't tell anyone else, if I tell you"
"Okay. That's clear, kind of. So, do I get to know what's written about me on that piece of paper then?"
"I don't think that bit was part of the deal" she says in a very small voice. She also hides the paper behind her back.
There is something profoundly wrong with this. Donna is too quiet. She looks humiliated and humbled and I don't like it one bit. Donna usually gives me as good as she gets. She stands up to me. She gives me Sass. I like her Sassy.
I want the Sass back.
I want Donnatella back.
"Donna…"
She looks startled and a little worried at the tone of my voice. She sees me creeping up on her and starts backing towards the door.
"Josh?"
"Give me that piece of paper" I say, keeping my voice as low and threatening as I can.
A little spark lights up in her eyes.
"No"
"I might have to hurt you…"
"I'd like to see you try"
"Is that an offer?"
She mock-grimaces at me and I stalk her a little more closely. Her back is against the door now and she starts fumbling at the handle behind her.
"Get away from me Joshua. This is not funny"
Really, why are you trying not to laugh then?
"I'm not trying to be funny. I just want what's behind your back"
She can't get to the handle, so she starts sidling along the wall, trying to circle around me. She bumps into the filing cabinet, turns slightly and I take my opportunity. Grabbing the paper, I'm out of the door and running before she can even take in a breath to shout.
Once out of the door, I slow to a jog until I hear her rapid, muffled footsteps behind me, then I surge forward again. I clatter passed Toby's office and duck behind his open door for a moment so that I can look back. Donna's standing in the middle of the bullpen, spinning on the spot, searching for me.
"Josh what the hell are you doing?"
"Shh Toby. She'll hear you."
Toby sticks his head out of his office door and glares at me.
"Who'll hear me?"
"Donna" I nod in her direction
He follows my look and sees her peering behind CJ's door. He looks at me again, lurking behind HIS door and looks totally disgusted.
"You're playing hide and seek with your assistant?"
"Er…kind of"
"You're playing a game at a time like this?"
It occurs to me belatedly that Toby doesn't realise he's off the hook with the IRS yet. I should tell him. I really should…
"Joshua Lyman! Give that back to me!"
…but not just yet. Donna comes charging towards me, her hair flying. Cathy dives out of her path.
"Gotta go, Toby" Something occurs to me, "go and get yourself a girlfriend or something, I think you're gonna need one"
I charge off, leaving his outraged splutter behind me. I reach a hallway junction, feint towards the right passage, then dodge for the left. I hear Donna skid on the carpet, then right herself and follow. She laughs softly.
This is fun.
****************************************************************************************
Well, this is kind of fun.
I'm chasing my boss through the West Wing and it's a lot more interesting than chasing Sam Seaborn any day of the week.
He's headed towards the Mural Room now; there are quite a few people milling about and they're giving us some pretty strange looks, but a quick glance at the crowd tells me that there's no-one there that we need to be impressing right now. Besides, the temptation is irresistible…
"STOP THIEF!"
Josh turns and jogs backward shooting me a glance of disbelief. I grin at him and keep running. The suits standing around are not quite sure what to make of this, but one of the younger men steps hesitantly towards Josh and he's forced to take off again. I charge through them like a plough through a cornfield.
I follow him round a corner, then have to break sharply and duck into the shadows, because Josh has been trapped by Leo and he's standing there chatting as though he hasn't a care in the world with the List held behind his back. I'm close enough to see that Josh is trying really hard to control his fast breathing, but he's not really succeeding very well as Leo is shooting him some pretty strange looks. I faintly hear Leo say,
"Are you okay, Josh?"
"Yeah, Leo I'm fine. I'm…er…in a bit of a hurry."
"Anything I should know about?"
"No. No, everything's fine"
"Well, good"
Leo walks away and I can see the tension in Joshua's spine. He knows he can't dash off again until Leo's out of sight. Ha! Got him.
I sneak up behind him, my socks an advantage for once and holding my breath, get as close as I can before I snatch the list back and run as fast as possible back the way we came. The people outside the Mural Room watch me in a bewildered fashion as I run passed them again.
"It's all right!" I yell, waving the list above my head, "I got it back!"
God knows what they'll make of Josh charging after me. I'm tempted to slow down and take a peek but…wait a minute. I stop and turn. No Joshua. Where has he gone? What is he up to now?
The tension is killing me as I sneak back to the bullpen. Is he lying in wait somewhere? Will he leap out at me when I'm least expecting it? I sidle up to his office again, but the door is still open, and it's unlikely that he could have made it back before me anyway. Just in case, I peep around the door and…
"Got you! Sucker!"
My arm is grabbed and I'm hauled inside the office and deprived of my list yet again.
Damn, damn, damn, he must have circled. I forget sometimes that he can run pretty quickly when he wants to. I try to snatch the list back again, but between my disorientation and his unsteady legs, we find ourselves mysteriously tangled together. My legs seem to be between his and my right arm and his left, both holding the List tightly, are stretched over our heads. He staggers slightly and grabs my waist to steady himself.
Well, this is interesting.
Perhaps I ought to see a doctor? My breathing has got weird again, even though I stopped running a while ago. Actually his doesn't seem much better and our chests are puffing and heaving in tandem. Which is not…unpleasant. He's staring at me as though he's never seen me before and the intensity of it is almost unbearable. He clears his throat.
"Are you gonna let me see the paper?" His voice cracks slightly.
"No" I whisper back.
Did I just move closer, or did he pull me?
The dimples peep out briefly, then disappear again.
"Okay"
I can feel a smile pulling at my own lips at his answer.
"Maybe I'll show it to you…later"
"You will?"
Either my ears are going funny, or his voice just got deeper.
"Yes"
"How much…later?"
His arm slides more fully around my waist. His hand is very warm.
"Well Joshua…"
"Yes, Donnatella?"
"That depends on you"
He clears his throat again and his face looms closer.
Ohmygodohmygod, he's going to kiss me…
"Donna?"
Damn.
"Yes?"
"I want to ask you something"
"You do?"
"Yes"
"Okay. What is it?"
His arm falls from my waist and our Moment slips away. I'm not surprised. This is Joshua Lyman I'm dealing with here. By the time he got around to gathering the rosebuds, they'd have died and dropped off the bush.
But that's okay. I'm not in any hurry.
"Um…I'll ask you later"
"Again with the later. Give me specifics."
"After lunch?"
"Is it lunchtime already, I thought that was hours off"
"Sarcasm does not become you…"
"Oh yeah?"
"…as that outfit does not become the West Wing. Go home and change"
"Okay, but only if you buy me a sandwich"
"Deal"
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EPILOGUE - MOSTLY CONCERNING ROSES
An hour and a half later, smartly clad again, I'm back in the West Wing and there is a huge bunch of pink roses on my desk.
He bought me roses?
I'm not sure whether to be pleased or annoyed.
"Donna!"
"Hey, Sam"
He must have found a suit from somewhere and his hair is back in place. I smile at him. I've decided to forget that this morning ever happened. Well, apart from the last bit…
"Do you like the roses?"
"They're from you?"
I must have sounded really surprised because his cheeks flush prettily.
"Yeah"
He reaches out and touches one of the blooms gently
"I learned quite a lot about…um…roses today"
"Did you?"
He winces slightly and I smile again.
"Er…anyway, I went to a florist and asked about these and…well…they had some - so here they are."
"What do you mean, 'these'?"
"They're a variety of tea rose called…er…Prima Donna"
"Really?"
"Yeah"
Well, I'm touched, I really am. He can be very sweet sometimes.
"Thanks Sam"
"You're welcome. I have to, you know, go and…"
He shuffles his feet and waves his hand in the direction of his office.
"Okay. Oh, say hi to Ainsley for me"
He winces again, then blushes, so I know they must have sorted themselves out. Ainsley isn't stupid.
"Okay"
I go back to the roses. They're very pretty, but they don't have much of a scent.
"Donna?"
It's Josh, he's carrying what looks like a little pot plant in one hand and large sandwich in the other.
"Hey. Is that for me?"
He thrusts the pot plant at me gracelessly and I can see that it's a little…you guessed it. It's a rose bush. With one tiny, slightly overblown reddish-pink rose on it.
"It's a rose bush"
"I can see that"
I bring the little bloom up to my face and sniff. It smells wonderful, like summer and Turkish Delight.
I glance up at him and he's looking at the roses on my desk, disconcerted.
"You have roses"
"Yes, Sam gave them to me"
His face clouds over and I say quickly,
"But this one smells better"
He smiles. I'm treated to the full dimple effect.
"Donna?"
"Yes?"
"Would you have dinner with me tonight?"
My heart gives a little pit-a-pat. PLAN? What PLAN?
"What, like a date?"
"Er…"
He looks a little panicked at my forthrightness, but plunges ahead anyway.
"Yeah, sort of like a date."
He's not meeting my eye. Bless him.
"Okay"
"Good. Fine. Okay"
He smiles vaguely in my direction and abruptly turns and goes into his office. I hide my smile behind the rose bush.
"Donna!"
"What?"
"My coffee mug is back!"
I'd forgotten about that. I must have left it in CJ's office and she returned it.
He pops out of the office again, brandishing the mug.
"Well, good"
"I don't suppose you'd…?"
"Nope"
"Okay"
He heads for the coffee machine.
I notice a little label attached to the stem of the rose bush, so I carefully turn it around so I can read it. It says 'Rosa Alba Donatella'.
Oh Joshua…
"DONNA!"
"WHAT?"
"WHY DOES MY MUG SMELL OF FISH?"
THE END