Twenty-Five Hundred And Counting
by Dana

* * *

"So, about this fan club thing," Josh burst out, putting just
enough stress on the two words so as to indicate that he found the
idea nothing short of ridiculous. He was standing in the bullpen
again, the door to his office swinging shut behind him.

Donna dropped her head to her hands. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she
muttered. She lifted her head in despair. "Josh, if you were frying
burgers for a living I wouldn't give a damn what you did during work
hours, but given that it's not only the future of the State of
Alabama that's on the line but my own personal future as an American
citizen as well, I'd appreciate it if you'd stick to your schedule
and go about making laws."

"I don't actually make laws," Josh corrected briefly, at which she
rolled her eyes, before he pondered out loud: "Maybe they gave you a
fan club because you talk so fast."

"What?" she asked, startled.

"Well, you talk very quickly in these long, confusing sentences.
Maybe there are eccentric people who admire and honor you for that,"
he reasoned.

"Sure, Josh," she sighed. "Assorted oddballs from thirty-nine states
have annual conventions in honor of my bizarre way of speaking.
That's very plausible."

"Thirty-nine states?" he echoed faintly.

"I can name them all," she verified. She stood up with a stack of now
finished memos to distribute, hoping that if she traveled fast enough
she would lose him amongst the west wing corridors.

"That's interesting," he commented, following Donna, to her
chagrin. "It's just that I'm asking because, well, my fan club--"

"Has members from the DC area, about fifty from Maryland, twenty from
Connecticut and two from Florida, one of whom is your mother." Donna
tried to hold back her amusement and failed miserably, walking at a
quicker pace than him so he wouldn't see her face.

"That's right," he agreed, stumped. Then he straightened his
back. "Though this actually means that my fans are more
sophisticated, politically involved and generally smarter than yours.
Except for Mrs. Leibovitz," he added, upon second thought.

"Who?" Donna asked, not bothering to argue with him.

"The other Florida fan."

"Ah." She nodded. "Whatever you say." She turned a couple of fast
corners that were out of her route, hoping to shake him off, but no
luck.

"So," he inquired cautiously, "How did you get so many fans? Did you
have to pay them? Or maybe make this deal--join for a year and get a
free TV set?"

Donna decided it was easier to ignore him than to think about his
words. "Yes, Josh," she answered tiredly. "It's a satanic pact
between us. In my interview tonight, I'm going to add another offer.
Fans get a free tour of the White House at the taxpayers' expense in
exchange for displaying their `We Love Donna' bumper stickers."

"Oh, you're not going to the interview," she heard from behind her.

She stopped in her tracks and spun around, arm extended to keep Josh
from bumping into her. She ended up poking him in the chest.

"What did you say?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Careful!" he brushed her hand away, rubbing his chest. "Sensitive
area, remember?" She allowed herself no more than a second's concern.
Josh shrugged. "I said you're not going to do the interview. The NRA
meeting's probably going to take longer than we expected and I'm
gonna need you to draft some stuff up afterwards. We have a serious
job to do here and we're not gonna let pesky matters like fan clubs
deter us from the really important issues."

"We can do that tomorrow," she challenged. "And I already took into
account that the meeting would run late."

"I'm your boss, Donna," he said sternly. "Why put off for tomorrow
what you can do today? We're deciding the future of not only the
State of Alabama, here," he threw her own words back at her, "but our
own, as well."

Fists clenched, Donna took in his appearance. His arms were folded
with self-satisfaction and he didn't even attempt to hide the smirk
that was smeared across his face.

"You're only doing this because you're feeling threatened," she
accused darkly.

"Why would I feel threatened by a fan club?" he scoffed. "I don't
feel threatened by the Republican Majority Leader, why would I feel
threatened by a fan club?"

Donna's icy glare homed in on him for a moment. Then she spun around,
flipping her hair carelessly across her shoulder. "Fine," she
acknowledged evenly. "If that's the way you want it, fine."

She changed direction from her original destination and started
making her way into the Communications bullpen.

Josh had trouble keeping up. "Uh, where are you going?"

"You were right," she shrugged, weaving her way through desks and
people with trained ease. "This is a serious place of work and we
shouldn't be deflected by stupid things like fan clubs. I don't even
know why I tried to hide it from you, to," she uttered the next the
word with scorn, "protect you. Obviously you don't let petty issues
like these sidetrack you."

Donna led the way in a swift, hot-tempered stride, opening doors and
marching through without waiting for Josh. "I'm still not following
why we're going here, though," Josh wondered, barely missing a
collision with a glass door Donna had released to swing in his face.

"I suppose you might as well know, now that the cat's out of the
bag." She turned a sharp corner that lead into Sam's office. Her head
popped in. "Sam," she called. Josh arrived just in time to see his
friend look up. "We'll have to do the WLDN thing tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," Sam frowned, puzzled. "Anything wrong?"

She pointed at Josh with her thumb in a rueful, submissive
gesture. "Gotta work," she apologized.

"No problem," he smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow. Duff Tuff!"

"Duff Tuff!" she repeated, grinning as she left. She retraced her
steps, heading towards her and Josh's little niche in the White
House, dragging Josh behind her.

She had never seen his eyebrows go so high. "What..." he
sputtered. "What was that about?"

"Sam was going to interview me." Donna pressed her lips tightly to
prevent herself from sounding the least bit smug. "You see, he's a
member of my fan club. Ignorant freak that he is."

"Sam's in your fan club?" Josh's eyes looked like they were about
to pop out.

Donna sat down at her desk and spoke naturally, as if this was no big
thing. "Active member, even."

"Sam Seaborn?" Josh shook his head, trying to grasp it clearly.

"Sam," Donna confirmed with another nod. "I-am-Sam, Sam-I-am, would
you, could you, on a boat, with a goat, in the dark, in a car, in a
tree, Sam."

"Really. Sam." Josh was clearly not getting over that fact. "Although
I think that, if he'd heard how you just described him, he'd consider
dropping out."

"Nah. Sam's a supporter." Donna pretended to get back to work,
scribbling some meaningless lines on a piece of paper. The
conversation was bound to continue a while longer.

Josh took in a deep breath, and let it all out with a
word: "Unbelievable." He looked at the ceiling with awe. "What's, uh,
Duff Tuff?"

She flushed for a moment, but then lifted her chin and told herself
she had nothing to be ashamed of. "It's easier to say than DFTF.
Donna For The Fans."

"Donna For The Fans, right." He rubbed his forehead with his right
hand. Just then Toby walked into the bullpen and heard him.

Toby turned to Donna with surprise. "Duff Tuff? You told him?"

"It was a mistake," she admitted regretfully.

"Wait." Josh targeted Toby accusingly. "You knew?"

Toby shrugged. "I'm a member."

Josh closed his eyes. "This is totally surreal." He opened them
again. "I don't suppose you're a member of my fan club too, are you?"

Toby snorted. "I wouldn't be caught dead in your fan club. The only
people in your fan club own fluffy pink pens."

"And you don't own one?" Donna teased.

"Cute," Toby replied shortly.

Josh stared uncomprehendingly. Donna and Toby were acting all buddy-
buddy. "Definitely surreal," he muttered.

"Well," said Toby, "This is a discussion I'd rather not stay around
for, so I'll come back later." He hesitated. "I shouldn't ask this,
but have you shown him the newsletter?"

Donna knew what was coming, and tried to stop it in time. "Yes but he
didn't get enough time to read every--"

"See you around, Fuzzy."

"--thing," she finished belatedly.

With a last look at the two of them Toby left, pursed lips hiding a
smirk.

Josh narrowed his eyes dangerously. Donna flinched. "`Fuzzy'?" he
inquired in a voice he usually reserved for meetings behind closed
doors. Donna was already reaching into her desk drawer and pulling
out the folded copy of the newsletter, flipping it to the crossword
puzzle. She pointed at seven across.

"`Five-letter secret nickname Donna has for her boss'," Josh read
aloud.

Donna's head fell to her table. "I'm sorry," she moaned. "It's
because of your hair."

Josh slapped the newsletter copy beside her. "Beyond surreal," he
said in amazement. "Fantastic. Un.believable."

"You keep saying that," Donna noted, slightly upset.

"Yeah!" Josh threw his hands in the air. "Because it is! It simply
makes no sense. Why would people make a fan club for you?"

"Well, you don't have to put it that way," she protested, offended.

"Come on! I'm an attractive, powerful man," he reasoned, paying no
notice to her tone. "I accomplish world-altering tasks every day. I
influence the course of this country's future. I'm in daily contact
with the President, Senators, Congressmen. Admirable deeds, you know,
that's me. And you--" he spluttered. "I mean, what are you in the
grand scheme of things, really?"

It struck him that the silence that followed didn't have any of those
comfortable vibes he was used to.

"Is it so hard," she asked, her tone remaining even and unwavering by
sheer determination alone, "to believe that people like me?"

Josh realized belatedly that he'd gone too far. "Donna," he started,
but she cut him off with a hand motion.

"No, you could be right. Who am I, really? Not worthy of all this
attention, certainly." She clutched the paper in her right hand. "I'm
Donna Moss, simpleton from god-knows-where, Wisconsin. I pay people
to join my fan club."

"Donna," he said softly, but she continued.

"I'm not gonna continue with this... drama queen routine now. To tell
you the truth, I have no idea why all these people suddenly thought
me worthy of a fan club. I haven't done anything extraordinarily
special. I haven't changed the world. Maybe it all started out as
joke, who knows. Maybe they find a Cinderella story in my life,
somewhere. Maybe they're inspired by someone who had the guts to
start over a life that went to hell." Donna knew that was her one
strong point and she wasn't ashamed to say it. "I don't know why they
did it, but. it's nice to get flowers once in a while, and it's nice
to get credit for being yourself." She waited for a response and,
receiving none, went back to work, scribbling for real this time.

"Donna," Josh spoke after a long silence. "I didn't mean it was--"

"I don't care what you think about the stupid fan club, Josh." She
swallowed. "I care what you think about me."

Josh pulled up a waiting chair from its place along the wall and sat
down in front of her desk. "I think..." he started. He waited until
he caught her eyes, and ignored his inner voice that was screaming
warnings of the sappiness ahead. "I think you deserve a fan club."

Donna lowered her head. "Don't just say that because you feel
obligated."

"I'm not," he said. He raised his eyebrows slightly with a tiny
smile. "It actually makes perfect sense. You're younger than me,
you're better looking, and god knows you're nicer than I am."

Her mouth crooked into a small smile as well. "Hey, you admitted I'm
better looking."

"Don't spread it around."

"Are you kidding? This is going into next month's newsletter, Fuzzy."

Josh chuckled, relaxing in his chair. "I had a fan who sent me
flowers once," he told her. "It got ugly when I started getting a
dozen bouquets a day and I had to call in the police."

"You mean I had to call in the police," she reminded him, lazily
tracing a pattern on the notebook paper with her pencil.

He scrunched his forehead. "Oh, yeah, that's right."

"Well, I have fans, not fanatics." Spirals and a few hearts. She'd
have to rewrite the thing anyhow-she'd been too distracted to do it
well, earlier.

He watched her draw. "When did you get flowers?" he asked, honestly
interested.

"On my birthday. Valentine's Day. And when you were... you know." She
pierced the little hearts with arrows, dirty gray on yellow.

"Yeah," he said softly. Then he stood up. "Well, I should get back to
work."

"Yeah," she agreed, lifting herself up in her chair as well. "You
should."

He stretched his arms and walked into his office. He threw his last
words behind his shoulder. "You can go do your interview tonight."

"Thanks," she called after him. No explanations needed.

That night, after she wrapped it up with Sam, Donna came back to the
bullpen to collect her stuff and saw the light in Josh's office was
still on. She knocked lightly and entered.

"So I was thinking," he opened straight away, hands entwined on top
of his desk. "How would one go about it if he wanted to join the
Donna Moss fan club?"

Donna couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. "I'm not
sure, actually. You'd have to ask someone else."

"I will," he promised. "There seem to be plenty of people around to
ask."

She tilted her head to one side. "One more's always nice." She
yawned, and adjusted the strap of her purse as she set to
leave. "Later."

"See you tomorrow," Josh said as she turned away. Then, as an
afterthought, he called out, "You know what? Wait five minutes and
I'll give you a ride home."

Donna smiled walking out and leant back on her desk, waiting. Two-
thousand five-hundred and eighteen wasn't a bad achievement, when it
came right down to it. She surveyed the desk of a successful woman
such as she and realized there was one thing missing from its surface.

She pulled open her bottom drawer and retrieved the fluffy pink pen
that had lain there, forgotten for a long time. After circling one of
the hearts to ensure it still worked, she pointedly dropped it into
her pencil jar.

"You ready?" Josh asked from his office door, backpack slung over one
shoulder.

"Yeah," she replied. "Let's go."

* * *
FIN
* * *

As always, feedback's appreciated. Thank you and good night.