Microcassette Musings
By: The Writer
Rating: PG Category: Dealing with Josh/Donna
Disclaimer: The West Wing characters belong to NBC/ Aaron Sorkin. I mean no infringement. Please restrain yourself from suing me.
Author's Notes: Greetings! I know my screen name shows me to be a fan of the X-files, but I also enjoy the WW. This is my first fan fiction using the show…so I hope it satisfactorily portrays their idiosyncrasies.
Spoilers: I'm not quite certain. Um, I guess everything through 'Two Cathedrals'. Basically, I have interpreted the subtleties of the finale's "cliffhanger" to produce this post-episode fiction. (Though this whole story does NOT revolve around those thoughts…)
Part 1
There was a quiet click as the tiny record button was pressed on. Josh Lyman held the electret condenser microphone an appropriate distance from his mouth and began talking. His voice carried through his small office, but was not loud enough for his assistant to hear.
"Testing…testing one, two, three… Testing… Well, this thing better be working. God knows we have! Ever since Bartlet announced he was planning to run for reelection we haven't had a moment's peace. The funny thing is, there's so much to be done…nobody knows where to start.
"But I, for one, know that there are ten things waiting for me to work on from a week ago—not to mention the piles from the past two days. But what have I been told is first priority on my list? No, not big tobacco or the reelection, not anything that important. I, Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff, was instructed, in this chaotic time only comparable to an apocalypse, to do a radio interview.
"That's right…an interview. Actually, a radio show. I was supposed to go talk on Fresh Air…some show on NPR. *But I put up so much of a fight that, instead they gave me this mini-recorder and ten pages of typed questions which I'm supposed to answer. This list could take hours to respond to, longer than 78 year old Senator Stackhouse's filibuster.
"That's not even mentioning the questions they're asking. Oh, no, nothing about 'The Bartlet Scandal'. No, I'll have plenty of time to answer those questions at the trial. No, these people want to know how I feel almost one year after being shot. What am I supposed to say, that I'm happier to be alive than Donna is when she's listening to a CD of David Hasselhoff? Do these people seriously believe the national public cares?
"Though, thinking about that day does bring up some other issues. One is my assistant, Donna Moss. From what I heard, she was a total wreck after hearing what had happened to me. But what does that mean? That she cares about me in that big-brotherly way? Or is there something else? I mean, she did try to set me up with Joey Lucas. Could someone like you, but still try to set you up with somebody else? That just doesn't seem right.
"Though, she was correct, I was smitten. Joey is attractive and all, but…
"What am I saying? That I'm enamored by Donna, a young woman eleven years my junior? Not to mention the fact that she works for me… I'm sure there is a lawsuit in there somewhere. But, wasn't Juliet only fourteen in Romeo and Juliet? I mean, Shakespeare… Ugh! What am I talking about? Donna is not a child and I'm certainly not Romeo! I—
Josh quickly stopped speaking when he heard a quiet knocking at his office door. He set the recorder down and yelled, "Who is it?"
"It's me, Josh," Donna said, poking her head into the room. "I just brought you some files on- Oh! Were you doing that NPR thing?" She frowned. "I didn't mean to interrupt… I just—
As Donna backed out of the doorway, Josh stood up to reassure her. "No, that's fine. What did you want?"
Donna brushed her blond hair behind her ear. "Oh, these can wait. Remember, C.J. is going to want that tape by two."
Josh pushed his sleeve up and checked at his watch. "Okay, thanks, Donna. You know, I think they should market these things as a type of self-therapy device."
"So, you like talking to yourself? I think there are places where you can do that all the time…they're called Mental Hospitals. They have nice padded rooms and—
"That's not funny. Get out, Donna, out!"
With a broad smile she continued, "I'm sure you would love it there—
Josh pushed his assistant out of his office and shut the door after her. He sat back down in his chair and leaned back. After a moment the quiet knocks are heard, again, and Donna opened the door. "You know I didn't mean that, Josh…"
He smiled and replied, "Yeah, I know."
"Do you want anything?"
"Lunch."
"A turkey sandwich?"
"On white."
"No Mayo."
"Thanks, Donna."
Watching her leave, Josh stretched his arms over his head. Unfortunately, he leaned back too far and his chair toppled over with a loud crash. This caused his assistant to dash back into the room. Her blue eyes welled with concern. "What happened, Josh? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he grumbled while awkwardly trying to dislodge himself from beneath the chair.
Donna leaned over the desk and peered down at her boss. Her arms were folded as she teased him; "Do you need help?"
"No…" He shifted under the weight of the chair and gazed at his assistant with a puppy-dog look on his face.
"Honestly, the things I do," Donna mumbled, shaking her head in mock-dismay as she walked around her boss' desk.
"Yes, Donna, everyday I thank God you're here."
She opened her mouth, flattered, then looked closely into his eyes. "You're lying, aren't you?"
"I plead the fifth."
"That's not funny, Joshua. Now you're just going to have to stay under there." Donna turned around and headed out of the room.
"Donna?"
The door slammed.
"Donnatella Moss, come back in here right now!" Josh yelled at the door. He grumbled, hearing his tie begin to rip as he shifted positions.
The wall muffled the reply, "Are you going to apologize?"
"Donnaaaa…" he whined.
"Joshuaaaa…" she mimicked.
"Fine. I'm sorry. Okay?" said Josh, not sounding very sincere. "Now will you untangle me? My necktie's stuck on one of the screws in the bottom of this chair."
"So, you're stuck, huh?" asked Donna with an evil glint in her eye. She stood in the doorway. A large pair of scissors, more comparable to shears, was in her hand. "I bet you wish that chair was really—
"Donna."
"Not a chair, but Joey—
"Donna, stop," he commanded in a serious tone. Josh's assistant usually didn't listen, but this time she did. "You can stop that whole love-muse-Aphrodite-matchmaker thing you've been trying to pull on me."
Donna's face fell and she seemed truly disappointed. "But, Josh, you and Joey would be so…" She paused, seeing the look he was giving her. "Fine. Be that way, Mister I'm-the-perpetual-bachelor." She raised her hands in surrender and looked to the ceiling for guidance. "Why, oh why God, why?"
Josh interrupted her dramatic moment by coughing loudly.
"What?"
Donna's boss used a hand motion to tell her to turn around. The Press Secretary was standing behind her. Without looking, the assistant cringed and asked, "Someone important is behind me, huh?"
C.J. smiled. "I was fine standing here, watching the performance." Walking past Donna she stood in front of Josh. She put her hands on her hips. "What did you do now, Josh, that upset your assistant? She's had to be your knight—or duchess, or whatever the hell you call a female of the same rank—quite a lot and you've gone and tarnished her shining armor, once again."
Ansley walked by the office and yelled, "Women never really have the same rank as men!"
C.J. raised an eyebrow and turned back to Josh. "Anyway, I need that NPR tape, Josh."
"Sorry, C.J., I've been a little busy—
"I can see that."
"I'll have Donna bring it over to you later."
C.J. looked over at Josh's assistant, who was still standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, seeming quite perturbed. "If you say so. But I need it soon, Josh. If I don't have that tape in my hand by two o'clock I'm going to have the Secret Service hall your ass over to the NPR studios to do a live session." With that she turned around and left the office.
"Well, Josh," said Donna, snipping at the air with the scissors as she walked in, "I hope I don't miss. You know, one fourth of all major accidents happen in the workplace."
"And 99.9% of all those accidents in the workplace are caused by assistants."
"Watch it," she threatened, slamming the scissors into the desk.
Donna kneeled down behind Josh and grabbed his shoulders, ready to use herself as a lever against his back. "Okay. On the count of three I'm going to push you into a sitting position while you stand up the chair."
"But, Donna, I'm still stuck to the chair. When it stands up my neck is going to be yanked forward."
"Don't worry, Josh, you'll be fine."
"Donna," he whined—again.
"Josh, work with me. Do you need help or not?"
"Fine."
"On the count of three. One…two…three."
Donna pushed against Josh and jarred him into a sitting position. He pushed the chair off of his chest, to get it to stand. Unfortunately, he pushed a little too hard and the chair tipped forward, falling against his desk. This caused Josh to be pulled, by the neck, forwards another foot.
Donna—who had been leaning against Josh—suddenly, found herself leaning against air and she fell backward, onto her back. In the process of falling she instinctually reached out for support and grabbed Josh's shoulder. He ended up, once again, on the floor…this time sandwiched between Donna and the heavy chair.
Just as the dust was settling Sam walked in. He looked over the desk and smiled. "I've heard of 'behind every great man there's a great woman'—but underneath every great man?"
Donna blushed and pulled herself from under Josh. She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. In one swift movement she snatched the scissors from the desk and used them to cut her boss' tie off just below the knot. She held the weapon like a sword and threatened Sam; "Do you have anymore comments?"
Sam held his hands up in the air and backed out of the room. "No, no, no. I can see when I'm not wanted."
Josh pushed the chair to the side and stood up. He pulled the remains of his tie out of his collar. "Uh, thanks, Donna."
"Sure, Josh. And Curtis can fix your chair if it needs it," she replied, turning to go back to her desk. Then she stopped and spun around. "By the way, did you know there's a day in Germany* when the women are given the keys to the city and they go around cutting guy's ties off?"
Her boss ran his fingers through his hair. "Um…no, I didn't." He picked his chair up and carefully sat down in it. "Donna, what time is it?"
"Time to get a new watch." He glared at her. "Fine. It's a half-hour until your next meeting."
"Great," Josh said sarcastically. "I'll leave the NPR tape on my desk, can you deliver it to C.J.?"
"Sure," replied Donna, returning to her desk.
A few minutes later both Josh and his assistant were working busily at their computers. Donna's voice was the first to break the silence; "Hey, Josh, I just looked up that holiday on the Internet—it's called…"
"Uh, huh." Her boss really wasn't listening; his attention was focused mainly on his computer's monitor. He, like Donna, was looking for German websites. Except the Deputy Chief of Staff couldn't find anything about the holiday she spoke of. Was the cutting off of men's ties a symbol of affection or women's rights?
Did he even want it to be a symbol of affection?
Josh looked from the tape recorder to the monitor. Donna couldn't possibly have known anything…could she? It's not like he announced his feelings over loudspeakers. Of course, neither did she. She probably didn't even remember the specifics of the tradition when she spoke of it…right? So, the 'cutting off of ties' comment didn't mean anything? Or did it?
Josh shook his head. He was tempted to pick up the keyboard and hit it against his head. Instead, he sighed, logged off of the computer, and picked up the ten pages of NPR questions. He might as well get it over with…
** TO BE CONTINUED…PLEASE RESPOND!**
To any German readers: I'm sorry that was such a poor description of your holiday! Please forgive me for my naivetes!