1000 People

1000 People

by Len

Spoilers:  17 People specifically on up, a few others accidentally.

Teaser:  This is to commemorate the 1000 member mark reached on August 31st, 2001 by the JoshDonnaFF list.  Yeah!!  Very little plot, a little funny, a little flirty, and a little fact-filled.  This is the sister-fic to Silly Promo Fic I: Voting Season.   

Notes:  Thanks to Norma for providing me with lots of fun 1000 trivia to chose from, and Jenny for the abuse.  I'd also like to have a little "shout-out" to the following authors for giving me permission to allude to their work, although due to time restraints and a lamentable lack of creativity, I didn't end up doing so:  Norma the Magnificent, Shelley the Super-  Writer, and Erin – should I call you E-dogg?  LOL.  Thanks for everything, guys.

More notes:  Feedback.  Please, give me feedback.  PLEASE, PLEASE give me feedback!!!       Please, please, please…oh, you get the picture…

Still more notes:  you can find this and many other stories on my site: http://www.geocities.com/sekhmet_poppy/home.html

   …and you can find the wonderful JoshDonnaFF egroup at:  http://groups.yahoo.com/group/JoshDonnaFF   

~Deputy Chief of Staff's Office, 11:43 pm~

   I sit in my office, the only light coming from the murky glow of distant street lights out the window.  I'm alone in the dark.  Donna went home almost an hour ago – I think.  I can't see my sucky watch, and after venturing out into the bullpen with a flashlight, I realized that the clocks on the walls were all powered by electricity and so really wouldn't help me much.

   This whole power outage thing is getting tedious.  You'd think that the most important building the in the country would have a reliable source of power or back-up generators or something – but no.  I mean, they probably have power in the situation room, but in something so important as the Deputy Chief of Staff's office?  Nooooo….

   As if this by itself wasn't bad enough, I've just suffered a staggering blow.  I'm still reeling.  I feel like I've been pleasantly buzzed by alcohol right before being pelted with small paving cobbles.  Or like I've hit a home run only to be crushed under the weight of the entire team at the bottom of a victory dog pile.  Like I helped an old lady cross the street only to be ticketed for jay-walking on the return trip.  Like…okay, I've run out of metaphors.  You know what I'm talking about – it's a bewildering sense of "What was that that just happened?"

   It all started with an idea.  It was a good idea.  It really was.  Very statistically sound.  Of course, Donna didn't think so, but when has she ever thought an idea of mine was sound?  Statistically or otherwise? 

   Um, yeah.  Moving right along….  As I said before, it all started with a really good idea.  That, a box of pens, the Roman numeral 'M', and a couple hundred people from a little group known as JoshDonnaFF.  A perfectly innocuous assemblage, but one that now has me wondering exactly which way is up.

~Previously: Deputy Chief of Staff's Office, 10:24pm~

   "Donna—"

   "No."

   "But I haven't eve—"

   My assistant doesn't once raise her eyes from the file in front of her.  She is ignoring me.  Well, if unless you count the one-syllable answers, which I don't.  Donna churns those out unconsciously.  "No," she repeats.

   "Why?" I ask, changing tactics.

   "Because I find it tedious, pointless, and altogether a colossal waste of time."

   I raise my eyebrows.  "Do you feel better now?"

   She looks up, smiles her one thousand kilowatt smile and goes back to her reading. 

   "Why can't they just drag people in off the street?" I ask after a few more moments of silence,  "I mean, it's not like anyone will know.  The whole system is pretty anonymous."

   Donna rolls her eyes.  "Yeah, that'll really improve our image.  Sam already thinks you bribed them."

  "Bribed them?"  I squeak.  "What a ridiculous idea!"

   "He says that's the only way anyone would join JoshDonnaFF instead of, say, SamAinsleyFanfic."

   "Sam forgot to take into account my superior wit and charm, and your - you know – 'you-ness'.  Of course we have the members.  How he can compare me and this to having a fling with a Republican is completely beyond--"

  "You know, having read quite a few of the stories from JoshDonnaFF, I've noticed that you only bring up the fact that Ainsley is Republican when Sam has painted you into a corner," Donna observes.

  "Sam has never painted me into a corner.  And seriously, bribery?  That would be wrong!  That would be unethical!  That would be fundamentally dishonest!"

   "Josh?"

   "Yeah?"

   "You did it anyway, didn't you?"

   "Well, yeah."

   "Josh, Josh, Josh…."

   "What?" I demand.  "Don't give me that face, Donnatella.  You know you're just as interested in these numbers as I am."

   "See, that's where you're wrong.  I am a patient person."

   "And this is a situation requiring patience?"

   "When you're involved Josh, every situation requires patience.  Which means," she continues over my perfectly valid protestations, "that I arrived at this situation with a whole lot of experience."

   "That's not very nice."

   "This coming from the man who is making me look at his computer _for_ him.  Even though it's right there.  It's right there just staring at you, Josh."

   The white screen glows invitingly at me, but I turn my face away.  "If I look at the screen nothing will happen."

   "You can either be a Jewish man from Connecticut or a Boston Irish-Catholic, but you can't be both, Joshua.  Pick your superstitions and be done with it; you're giving me a headache."

   "I want to see the numbers, Donna!"

   "You know," she says reflectively, twirling the highlighter between her fingers, "that wasn't even remotely endearing the first time I heard it."

   Sulking would be unmanly, so I don't do it, opting instead for a deep breath and a peek at the laptop screen.  Nothing.  Nothing is happening.  Not so much as one flickering pixel.

   I stare at it some more and Donna continues working to insure I sound at least semi-intelligent at tomorrow's meeting.  But the neither of us are especially quiet people, so eventually she looks up with a curious expression. "So what did you try bribing them with?" she asks, folding her stocking-feet under her.

   I smile charmingly.  Donna doesn't blink.  "It's not exactly bribing.  It's merely providing incentive to join the group," I explain.

   "That's your story?"

   "And I'm sticking to it," I agree.

   "What was it, Josh?  White House mugs?  Autographed publicity shots?"

   Hey – that's a good idea.  I should have thought of that!  "Nope.  Something even better."

   Donna raises a skeptical eyebrow.  "Better?  Josh – you didn't go and try to bribe them with something stupid, did you?  Like White House key chains or cheapy White House pens?"

   "Hey!" I object, "Everyone likes them.  Those pens are collectors items!"

   "They are mass-produced."

   "They're really neat!"

   "They would appeal only to the simple-minded.  I imagine everyone who would be interested in joining the JoshDonnaFF list stopped collecting neat pens when they were like…twelve."

   "I have seven of them!"

   "I rest my case," she says.

  "You know, you're a mean woman," I tell her.

   "And yet you love me anyway," she smirks.  And then she pauses as she realizes what she just said.  I ignore the feeling of panic bubbling around the general vicinity of my sternum.

   "That remains to be seen," I retort, trying to cover the sudden awkwardness with scientific fact.  "One thousand people, remember?"

   She rolls her eyes again.  "How could I possible forget with you bugging me about it every five minutes?"

   "One thousand is the key, Donnatella."

   "Whatever," she replies, and starts highlighting something.

   I lean back and prop my feet on the desk, my eyes never leaving the screen of my laptop.  Or more specifically, the column in which is recorded the number of members in my fan club.

   Well, okay – Donna's fan club too.  It is dedicated to the lack of thing between the two of us.  Nearly a thousand people claim to see vibes, or something, but to my knowledge there is absolutely nothing between us but a mountain range of paperwork that separates her desk from mine.  However, I am willing to consider the possibility.  I am perfectly prepared to put out a poll or something, if given a large enough playing field to work with.  For me, that means 1000 people.

   1000 people.  That's all it's going to take.  As soon as 1000 people join the JoshDonnaFF Yahoo! Group, I'll start taking this more seriously.

   "D'you know what's interesting about the number 1000?" Donna asks.  I don't think she really expects me to answer, so I decide to surprise her by saying, "What?"

   "The Roman numeral for 1000 is 'M'.  And one thousand years is a millennium, which also starts with the letter 'M'."

   "I don't think that happened by accident Donna."

   "I know.  I just think we should be reminded of these things some times."

   "Remind me again when the membership reaches a thousand, and I might care," I grumble.

   "Patience is a virtue, Josh," Donna says matter-of-factly.

   "Patience is a pain in the ass, Donna."

   She finally sets the file aside and props her feet up across from mine.  "You know, you should try and have more fun with this.  We should be enjoying the moment."

   "What?  I should try and enjoy myself?  How can I enjoy myself when I'm trying to proceed with a reasonable course of action, and I can't seem to get anywhere?  The membership will go all the way up to nine-hundred and ninety seven, only to come crashing down again!  I'm sitting here floundering in this…this _stinking_ quagmire of—"

   "Loathing and self-doubt?" she contributes.

   "No!  It's a quagmire of anxiety and severe annoyance!" I shout.

   Donna's lips, the lipstick long since worn off due to her habit of nibbling on them and various office supplies, turn up into a smirk.  "You know, that whole thought started off pretty well, but towards the end there…."

  "Well, thanks for the editorial, Ms. Fine Martini."

   "I'd rather be a fine martini than a stinking quagmire."

   "Go away."

   "Can't," she replied, picking up the folder again, "we have to finish this."

   "I know.  I just wanted to see if you'd try.  You know, like that electro-shock treatment, with the dog-collars and the open door and the starvation…."

   "You are a sick man, Josh Lyman."

   I smirk and raise my arms in the air to stretch.  "Mine is a dark wit, like a fine micro-brew…"

   "Shut up."

   I shut up and watch her for a moment, just for the relaxing effect this activity has on me.  Then my eyes wander back to the JoshDonnaFF page, and nearly bulge out of their sockets.  

   "Donna!" I gasp.

  She jumps up and dashes to my side.  "What's wrong?"

  "Nine-hundred and ninety nine!  We're almost there!"  Donna whacks me across the head.  "Ow!  What was that for?"

  "Because you're an idiot, and you're going to give me a heart attack."

  "You're very entertaining."

  "Shut up.  I'm still mad at you for that whole satellite thing, I hope you realize that."

   I feel the back of my head for any lump that could signify a possible concussion.  "Yeah, I figured."

   "Okay.  Good."  She settles back to work, only to look up three seconds later with an expression I know well.  "Did you know that there's a game called '1000 Blank Cards'?" she asks.  "It was invented by Nathan McQuillen of Madison, Wisconsin."

   "I did not know that."

   "Yeah – and the thing about this game is that you make up the cards as you play.  No hold barred.  We should play it sometime.  We've got tons of index cards arou—"

  "Donna.  No.  I think that would qualify as misuse of government property."

   "Oh, and I suppose that the government intended for you to use your laptop to stare at the JoshDonnaFF page, then."

   She has a point.  I know it.  "Your tax dollars at work," I smirk, my eyes never leaving the collating numbers on the screen.

   "One thousand megabytes is a gigabyte," Donna says.

   "Huh?"

   "For computers.  You know, we we're just talking about laptops and so I…C'mon, Josh, follow me here."

   "Honestly Donna, I'd follow you anywhere, but even you can't expect me to always understand your Pogo-like thought processes."

   "Really?" 

   "Really what?"

   "You'd follow – oh, never-mind."

   I look at her strangely.  A faint blush appears on her cheeks and she begins to watch the computer screen very intently.  This is something I must investigate…

   "No, what were you going to say?" I insist, leaning against the desk so that our elbows are touching.

   "It's not important."

   I think it is.  I get gut feelings about certain things, this is one of those certain things instances.  "I bet it is."

   "It's really not."

   "Donna…" I whine.

   "Josh…" she whines back.  I think she may be mocking me.  "It's really _really_ – Josh!" she yells.  Its now that I realize how close we're sitting, because the proximity and sheer volume of that last exclamation was enough to give me tinnitus.  I fall out of my chair.

   "What?!" I yell back from the floor.

   "Look!"

   She extends a hand and with frightening strength hauls me to my feet.  Her other hand is pointing at the computer screen.

   I look at Donna, then back at the screen, then back at Donna.  She smiles.  "One thousand people!" we shout together.

   And then the lights went out, along with the cheerfully glowing computer screen.  We hear one or two outraged cries from the few staff members remaining in the bull-pen, but other than that – nothing.  Al I can hear is her quiet breathing and the beating of my own heart.

   "Now what happens?"  She asks.

   I have a feeling she's not talking about the power-outage.  Which is okay, because that's not exactly the first thought in my head, either.  "I honestly couldn't tell you, Donnatella."

   "Okay."  She is really very close – I can feel her breath on the side of my face.  I turn in the dark to see her alabaster skin and it's rather remarkable reflective qualities.  In doing so, we end up nose-to-nose.

   Neither one of us moves. I have a sudden difficulty breathing. 

   Breathe in.

   Breathe out.

   Breathe in.

   Um…

   Erm…

   Oh.  Breathe out.

   "I'd better go," Donna says suddenly, and staggers out of our space so quickly it feels like my center of gravity shifts.  Whoa.  I lean against my desk, watching as she grabs her things and rushes out of the bullpen.  "Goodnight!" she calls out over her shoulder.

   I manage a strangled "'Night!" before going back to simultaneously strategizing and attempting to regain my equilibrium.  I force myself to think logically.

   We have the numbers.  One thousand honorary members of JoshDonnaFF.  I mentioned a statistically sound course of action earlier, didn't I?  Now allow me to let you in on a little secret: I never actually had one.  Because who would have ever thought there'd be a thousand people out there who would think Donna and I…you know?  And now that there are…well, the implications are truly staggering.

   1000 people.  Huh.  Now what?

  The End