A/N: Thanks to all of you who asked me to continue. It meant worlds to me. I apologize for the lateness of this installment. There were extenuating circumstances, which, if you care about reading, I will go into at the bottom (I feel I owe you all that much!). Has little relation to the story, you can skip it and not miss anything. For now, suffice it to say that this piece is now dedicated to my friend, Don Bourne.
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"Sam?"
C.J. looked at me as if I had grown two heads or become suddenly stupid. "Yes, Joshua, Sam."
"Why Sam?"
"Why not?"
"He is all wrong for this."
"You see why I didn't let you run this, Joshua? Sam is all right for this. You know, the knight in shining armor coming to save the damsel in distress. This is right up Sam's alley."
"But..."
C.J. had apparently gone temporarily insane. We always knew the job would get to her, I just didn't think she'd crack so soon. What could she possibly be thinking? Women. They should be illegal.
"Did you have a coherent objection, or did you just want to stand there and splutter?"
Apparently I didn't have any coherency to speak of, because she just blew right by me on her way out the door.
The walk back to my office felt like it took longer than usual. It's not that I'm unaccustomed to having eyes on me, but this was a little much. It looked like there was some sort of assistant convention going on outside my office. And they were all looking at me as if I were a bomb counting down to zero. In fact, come to think of it, there was even some sort of rhythmic noise accompanying my stroll through their assembly.
When I walked in my door, I understood why. Toby and his God damn ball. And he was sitting in my chair. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. There should be a rule about him taking that thing out of his office. Though I wouldn't want to be the one to enforce it. Then again, that's why we have the Secret Service.
"Is mucking up your own life not good enough for you anymore, Josh? Did you get so good at it that you thought you'd have a go with someone else's?"
"It's good to see you too, Toby. Is there an award for life-wrecking? Can I apply or will you nominate me?"
"I need Sam that weekend, but no. Apparently, the love life of your assistant is more important to this administration than the President's speech in Boston."
"This was not my idea, Toby. "
"Oh, my friend, C.J. was very clear that it was. "
Apparently it was going to be a day for spluttering. "Perhaps the general idea was mine, but the specifics were all C.J. Or did you think that I would choose the man who slept with a call girl to escort my assistant to her 10 year high school reunion?"
He just barreled right past my sensible explanation. "Well, the damage is done. "
"You're his boss, Toby, just tell him he can't go."
"There's a slight problem there. "
"What?"
"C.J. is very good at her job. She knows how to get to the top. "
"Oh my God. Please don't tell me that you're saying what I think you're saying. "
"Oh, yes I am," said Toby with a nasty smile. "The President himself is on board with Operation Matchmaker."
I swear, Toby probably could have taken out my tonsils with his stupid ball, that's how far my mouth dropped open. When I recovered my power of movement, I immediately assumed the position. No, not that one. I stood with my back flat against the wall, and it was a point in my favor that I was able to keep breathing.
"Toby, if I promise to think of a way to get you Sam back, will you please leave me alone now?"
He stood up and stopped throwing the ball, which was a big plus. "Of course, Josh. I will go back to the important job of running the country, you know, the one we get paid for, and you can sit here and think of what to do about Donna's love life. But in no way is this over, do you understand?"
I sighed. "Fine. Whatever you say."
"Not over, Josh," trailed behind him as he left.
I sat down at my desk. There had to be something earth-shattering that required my immediate and full attention. Had to be. Damned if I could find it, though.
"Donna!"
Nothing. Not even a "What, Josh?"
"Donna!"
Silence can be really loud sometimes.
Okay. I got up and went to the door just in time to see Donna walking through the bullpen. Carrying two coffees. Yes!
"Donna, what's next?"
She kept walking but called out over her shoulder. "You've got to be on the Hill at ten."
What? Where the hell was she going? And… oh, crap. Time to go. My watch really does suck.
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I won't bore you by recounting in minutiae all the events of that week. Trust me, what you've seen is fairly representative. I got my ass kicked by Toby (and Leo, for good measure) all over the West Wing, while C.J. smirked and Sam hid. Really hid, I mean. He took off every morning from Staff like the fast horse out of the gate. He even had Bonnie and Ginger doing bodyguard duty. I hadn't been able to pin him down for more than a minute before someone would come to his rescue. And Donna started using the Finance binder like a waitress tray. Two coffees balanced on top as she walked away from me. And towards Sam's office. My throat was hoarse from hollering. And I still hadn't been able to think of a way to keep Sam out of Wisconsin. At least not one that would work, that is.
I guess my frustration showed, because I got called up into the Oval Office late Friday afternoon.
"Mr. President, you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Josh, sit down. Would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you, sir."
He got up from behind the desk and came around to the couch. "Josh, I understand that you've done quite a favor for Donna."
"I guess you could call it that, sir." What the hell?
He smiled. "Do you have a problem with Sam? I thought you were the best of friends."
"We are, sir." At least, we used to be. Before he started getting coffee every morning, noon, and evening from my D… from my assistant.
"So you don't have a problem with him taking Donna?"
Moment of truth time. Yeah, right. "Of course not, sir. It's just that Toby really wanted Sam for the…"
"Of course you don't. That's what I told Sam. I mean, you're a seasoned political operative, Josh. If you didn't want Sam to take Donna, I'm sure you'd figure out how to get him out of the way. Are you familiar with the Borgias?"
"No, sir." My mind was working overtime, and I'd barely heard his last words. Of course! I'd been thinking about this like a… like a… like a relationship type thing. Which, of course, it wasn't. Time to get back in the saddle. Joshua Lyman rides again. No one can mess with my savvy. At least, not in the political arena. Just treat it like politics. That's the ticket.
"Ah, well. That's probably for the best."
Charlie came in with a folder. "Mr. President, your briefing?"
"Of course," he said, getting up. "Glad to know there's no problem here, Josh."
"None at all, sir."
I was running by the time I got back to my office. "Donna!"
No answer. But there was a note on my door. I could even read it. "Gone dress shopping with C.J. Won't be in 'til noonish tomorrow. Call me for less than a catastrophe and you're a dead man. Donna."
Not a problem, I told myself. Surely any college graduate, much less an Ivy Leaguer, would be able to penetrate the mysteries of a Rolodex.
It only took this Ivy Leaguer an hour, but I found the phone number. Ha!
I dialed. "Capitol Beat." The voice of a hardnosed receptionist. No problem.
"I need to talk to Mark Gottfried."
"Who's calling, please?"
"This is Josh Lyman."
By the speed at which I was put through the layers, I made her as a member of the fan club. Should send an autographed photo. Must tell Donna to… or, wait, maybe scratch that.
"Josh! So good to hear from you. What's up?"
"Mark, how's it been?"
"Oh, the usual. Bit of this and that. Nothing near as good as when Sam got his ass kicked by Ainsley. Why is she working for you guys again?"
"Funny you should say that. It's Sam I wanted to talk to you about. Could you slide him in next weekend?"
"Really? We've been trying to get him back ever since, and he's turned us down flat. C.J. won't even consider it. A shame. Good ratings with that boy, I tell you."
"Oh, really?"
"Don't worry, Josh. After all, he doesn't have a fan club."
"Whatever. Anyway, do you want him?"
"Of course. What will he be here to discuss?"
"Uh…" I hadn't really thought that far ahead. "Umm…" Then it hit me. Okay, call me diabolical. You'd be right. "How about 'Women in Politics?'"
"I smell a rat, Josh. What did he do to deserve this?"
"None of your business."
"It is if I'm going to have an unwilling guest on the show."
"Well… it's personal."
"What do I get in return?"
"What do you want?"
"An hour with Josh Lyman. Special feature. Hardest working man in politics."
I hesitated. But only for a moment. "You'll go light on the… the…"
"Sure, man. No problem."
"Okay. When can you start running spots for Sam's appearance?"
There was a pause. "You are a bad, bad man, Mr. Lyman."
Smirk. "I know."
"They'll start Sunday during the broadcast."
"Excellent."
On my way out, I left a note on Donna's desk. "Flowers for Congresswoman Wyatt." Let her wonder.
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The weekend was uneventful until Sunday at about 11. I knew what was about to happen, of course, so it was with a curious kind of detachment that I listened as my home phone, cell phone, and pager all began to go berserk.
Sam, of course, was the passive number on the pager. C.J. was on the cell, and Donna had the audacity to call my home phone. I love Caller ID. Ah, well. Eenie, meenie, minie, moe. Rank hath its privileges.
"Hi, C.J. What's up?"
She proceeded to let loose with a string of invective that was almost literary in its absolutely profane nature.
"Wow. You're not where anyone can hear you, right?"
"Since when did you become Press Secretary, smartass?"
"What are you talking about, C.J.?" I said innocently.
That was good for another minute or so of blistering prose.
"Whoa, hold the phone there, girlfriend. Why is Sam on Capitol Beat a bad thing? I think we could use a little positive exposure."
"You left me out of the loop, cowboy."
"So did you, sister. Instant karma's gonna get you."
"So this is payback?"
"Two birds with one stone, baby. Don't mess with me." Yeah, I know I get cocky when I'm on top. It's one of my more endearing traits.
"Well, I think you just shot yourself in the foot."
"Oh, really? How so?"
"Now who's supposed to take Donna?"
"I'm sure you'll find someone."
"Think again, Josh. Harder, this time."
"You wouldn't betray the sisterhood."
"Watch me. I'm so done with this it would make your head spin."
"Oh."
"Nice command of the language, there. Your eloquence is impressive."
"What am I supposed to do now?"
"You're on your own, big boy. And so is Donna, unless you think of something quick. Plane leaves Friday morning, and there are two seats reserved."
"But…"
"Got any plans for the weekend, Josh?"
"Uh…"
"I think you do now."
"Leo…"
"Won't give a damn as long as this thing is over sans bloodshed."
"The President…"
"I'm sure he feels the same."
"Donna…"
"Would walk into that room with Ed Grimley if that was the best she could do."
"Damn."
"You said it."
"It's not going to look good."
"I'll take care of it."
"I knew you wouldn't betray the sisterhood."
"It's a favor to Donna, not to you, just keep that straight."
"Gotcha."
So there it was. Somehow things had gone so horribly wrong that instead of spending my vacation on the couch, watching the Mets, drinking beer, and sneaking back into work when I thought no one was looking, I was going to be in America's Dairyland, escorting my assistant and trying not to…
Well. I guess there are worse ways to spend a weekend. Time to call Donna and let her know. My hand froze on the way to the phone. Despite what C.J. said, what if she didn't want to go with me? I forced a comparison. On one hand, you have Sam Seaborn. Don't ask my why women thought he was so gorgeous, but they undeniably did. Social, handsome, well dressed. On the other hand, me. With scrawny legs, big scar, and a head full of hair that exhibited decidedly revolutionary tendencies. And a big mouth that didn't know when to quit. Hmm, whom would you rather take to your reunion?
Well, thanks to me, it was Hobson's choice for her. I just hoped she wouldn't kill me when it was all over.
"Hi, Donna. It's me."
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A/N, part deux: I decided to write this piece for a challenge on the JoshDonnaFF Yahoo! Group, but I had already been thinking about writing a fic about Donna's ten-year reunion, because my own was fast approaching. When I wrote the first installment, my reunion was about two weeks away. I was feeling a little stuck for ideas, and I thought that I might get inspired my events at my own little soiree. So much for that thought. I ran into a guy I hadn't seen since graduation, though we'd emailed occasionally. We'd been pretty good friends, but just lost touch when I moved away to college and all. He looked just terrible. Slurring his words, the whole bit. I had heard through the grapevine that he wasn't doing well, but it was quite another thing to see it in person. I tried to sit and talk with him, but he was a bit less than coherent, which made things difficult. Finally, another friend and I left the reunion to drive him home. This was on a Saturday. He died that Wednesday from complications related to his alcoholism. I was very shaken up, and it's taken me a while to get back into this piece, for reasons that are hopefully self-evident, now. I wonder what I could have done differently. Anyway, consider this a PSA for the perils of drink. End of note, and thanks for reading it.