Title: Shattered Innocence 3/6
Author: Amber (Ambino1111@prodigy.net)
I'm tired.
Angry.
Upset.
Angry.
And did I mention angry?
I've been all over the tri-state area today looking for someone who could fix my very broken music box, and the places I didn't go to, I called. No luck. Everyone I talked to said that the fragments were too small and jagged to be properly put back together, and even if they could reassemble it, it would not look nearly the same.
I want to cry. No, let me amend that. I want to smack Josh a few times and then cry. And then travel back in time and secure the safety of my previously precious heirloom.
How could he do this to me? And how could I let him? Josh is constantly walking all over me, and for what? We have overstepped the bounds of a purely professional relationship, but we are nowhere near a nonprofessional one. Unfortunately.
I did *not* just think that.
Besides, that's not even true anymore. There was that amazing kiss.
My knees are weak just thinking about it.
No. I am not going to think about it.
As I set to work brainlessly typing up more of Josh's notes because he doesn't like having to decipher his own shorthand in the middle of an important meeting, my mind wanders back to last night.
That kiss sure was nice. I wonder when I'll get to experience that again.
Where is Josh anyway? I haven't seen him since I got to work.
I check my watch without disrupting my typing. I've got skills, all right. Skills that often go completely unappreciated by my manipulative boss, who is going to be late for his meeting with Senators Carlisle and Mewdane if he isn't here in ten minutes.
My typing slows down momentarily as I answer the ringing telephone.
"Hello, Josh Lyman," I prop the phone on my shoulder and continue to type. I really could use one of those headset things before I start having neck problems.
"Hi, Donna. It's Sam."
"Oh, hey, Sam. Josh isn't back from his meeting with Toby and Senator Shayle yet."
"What? Oh, yeah, I know. It doesn't - quiet!"
"What?" I ask, thoroughly confused. "Did you just hiss at me, Sam?"
"Wh-no. No. I was hissing at the, at the, the, uh, computer? Yeah, the computer. It was making noise."
"Okay." Something is going on here, I can tell. But seeing as how it's Sam, I'm not going to get too concerned. The man has a penchant for getting into odd situations.
"Uh, listen, Donna, I wanted to talk to you. In private. Would it be possible for you to come by my office?" There's a sharp intake of breath on the other line, as if Sam has just smacked into something and knocked the wind out of himself. "Now?" He wheezes.
I have a weird feeling about this, but I inform him I'll be in his office in a minute.
I hang up the phone and finish the sentence I'm typing. Then I save the document and walk to Sam's office.
He's sitting at his desk, leaning to one side and shielding his ribs, while on the phone. He abruptly hangs up when I walk inside.
"Hey, Sam," I say by way of greeting, then nod at the phone in its cradle. "Isn't that a little rude?"
He sits up straight and winces. "Trust me, it wasn't."
"Are you okay?" I ask. He looks like he's in pain. A lot of pain, actually.
"Oh, me? I'm fine. My ribs are just a little sore, that's all."
I nod and take a seat across from his desk. He smiles halfheartedly and takes off his glasses. He plays with them in his hand, holding one of the arms and twisting them around.
There's no denying that Sam Seaborn is an attractive man. If I hadn't managed to fall head-over-heels for Josh, I might have fallen for him. And there is something about his nervous, guilty expression that is making him look sweeter and more boyish than usual.
It's unsettling.
"What's up, Sam?" I cross my arms and examine the Deputy Communications Director. He looks briefly out the window behind me before meeting my eyes.
He clears his throat. "Josh told me what happened last night," He says tentatively.
I release a combination groan and sigh. "Yes. Can you believe it? I'm still pretty upset."
"Well, you have every right to be," He assures me. "Now, Josh is my best friend, but what he did was inexcusable. Unjustified. Immoral."
"Immoral?" I repeat, feeling confused.
Sam continues without missing a beat. "It was wrong of him - very wrong of him - and I hope you know that."
"I know that. And I know he's sorry. It just doesn't do anything anymore, you know? I can only be taken advantage of so many times before saying enough is enough. And last night was the final straw."
Sam looks sad. And even slightly scared. "Well, uh, either way, he, Josh, just wanted to know how you were feeling. You know, if you're okay and all."
My eyes narrow. "Is he avoiding me?"
Sam chokes a bit in surprise. "What?"
"He's avoiding me, isn't he?" I demand, leaning forward in the chair. "He was in here, before, when you called, wasn't he? He wanted you to create a diversion so he could go hide in his office. Well, if Joshua Lyman is not man enough to fess up to what he did last night and claim responsibility for his actions, drunken or sober, then he needn't worry about avoiding me, because I don't want to see him!"
I rise on the last word and storm towards the door. "And you can quote me on that when you call him in a few seconds."
With that, I turn haughtily on my heels and practically stomp through the bullpen and down to the Mess.
Damn Josh. Damn him and his damn childishness. What is his problem? He seriously acts like he's still in elementary school.
And shame on Sam for helping him. Josh is a bad influence on that sweet speechwriter.
I can't believe he's honestly avoiding me, his own assistant. Yeah, that's really going to work, Josh. But if that's how he wants to act, two can play at that game.
"Hello, Ms. Moss. What can I get for you?"
I look up in surprise to find that I've maneuvered my way into the line in the Mess. "Hey, Ivan. I think. yeah, I need a hot fudge sundae, extra whipped cream, no nuts."
Ivan nods understandably. "Coming right up, Ms. Moss."
End Part 3/6
I'm tired.
Angry.
Upset.
Angry.
And did I mention angry?
I've been all over the tri-state area today looking for someone who could fix my very broken music box, and the places I didn't go to, I called. No luck. Everyone I talked to said that the fragments were too small and jagged to be properly put back together, and even if they could reassemble it, it would not look nearly the same.
I want to cry. No, let me amend that. I want to smack Josh a few times and then cry. And then travel back in time and secure the safety of my previously precious heirloom.
How could he do this to me? And how could I let him? Josh is constantly walking all over me, and for what? We have overstepped the bounds of a purely professional relationship, but we are nowhere near a nonprofessional one. Unfortunately.
I did *not* just think that.
Besides, that's not even true anymore. There was that amazing kiss.
My knees are weak just thinking about it.
No. I am not going to think about it.
As I set to work brainlessly typing up more of Josh's notes because he doesn't like having to decipher his own shorthand in the middle of an important meeting, my mind wanders back to last night.
That kiss sure was nice. I wonder when I'll get to experience that again.
Where is Josh anyway? I haven't seen him since I got to work.
I check my watch without disrupting my typing. I've got skills, all right. Skills that often go completely unappreciated by my manipulative boss, who is going to be late for his meeting with Senators Carlisle and Mewdane if he isn't here in ten minutes.
My typing slows down momentarily as I answer the ringing telephone.
"Hello, Josh Lyman," I prop the phone on my shoulder and continue to type. I really could use one of those headset things before I start having neck problems.
"Hi, Donna. It's Sam."
"Oh, hey, Sam. Josh isn't back from his meeting with Toby and Senator Shayle yet."
"What? Oh, yeah, I know. It doesn't - quiet!"
"What?" I ask, thoroughly confused. "Did you just hiss at me, Sam?"
"Wh-no. No. I was hissing at the, at the, the, uh, computer? Yeah, the computer. It was making noise."
"Okay." Something is going on here, I can tell. But seeing as how it's Sam, I'm not going to get too concerned. The man has a penchant for getting into odd situations.
"Uh, listen, Donna, I wanted to talk to you. In private. Would it be possible for you to come by my office?" There's a sharp intake of breath on the other line, as if Sam has just smacked into something and knocked the wind out of himself. "Now?" He wheezes.
I have a weird feeling about this, but I inform him I'll be in his office in a minute.
I hang up the phone and finish the sentence I'm typing. Then I save the document and walk to Sam's office.
He's sitting at his desk, leaning to one side and shielding his ribs, while on the phone. He abruptly hangs up when I walk inside.
"Hey, Sam," I say by way of greeting, then nod at the phone in its cradle. "Isn't that a little rude?"
He sits up straight and winces. "Trust me, it wasn't."
"Are you okay?" I ask. He looks like he's in pain. A lot of pain, actually.
"Oh, me? I'm fine. My ribs are just a little sore, that's all."
I nod and take a seat across from his desk. He smiles halfheartedly and takes off his glasses. He plays with them in his hand, holding one of the arms and twisting them around.
There's no denying that Sam Seaborn is an attractive man. If I hadn't managed to fall head-over-heels for Josh, I might have fallen for him. And there is something about his nervous, guilty expression that is making him look sweeter and more boyish than usual.
It's unsettling.
"What's up, Sam?" I cross my arms and examine the Deputy Communications Director. He looks briefly out the window behind me before meeting my eyes.
He clears his throat. "Josh told me what happened last night," He says tentatively.
I release a combination groan and sigh. "Yes. Can you believe it? I'm still pretty upset."
"Well, you have every right to be," He assures me. "Now, Josh is my best friend, but what he did was inexcusable. Unjustified. Immoral."
"Immoral?" I repeat, feeling confused.
Sam continues without missing a beat. "It was wrong of him - very wrong of him - and I hope you know that."
"I know that. And I know he's sorry. It just doesn't do anything anymore, you know? I can only be taken advantage of so many times before saying enough is enough. And last night was the final straw."
Sam looks sad. And even slightly scared. "Well, uh, either way, he, Josh, just wanted to know how you were feeling. You know, if you're okay and all."
My eyes narrow. "Is he avoiding me?"
Sam chokes a bit in surprise. "What?"
"He's avoiding me, isn't he?" I demand, leaning forward in the chair. "He was in here, before, when you called, wasn't he? He wanted you to create a diversion so he could go hide in his office. Well, if Joshua Lyman is not man enough to fess up to what he did last night and claim responsibility for his actions, drunken or sober, then he needn't worry about avoiding me, because I don't want to see him!"
I rise on the last word and storm towards the door. "And you can quote me on that when you call him in a few seconds."
With that, I turn haughtily on my heels and practically stomp through the bullpen and down to the Mess.
Damn Josh. Damn him and his damn childishness. What is his problem? He seriously acts like he's still in elementary school.
And shame on Sam for helping him. Josh is a bad influence on that sweet speechwriter.
I can't believe he's honestly avoiding me, his own assistant. Yeah, that's really going to work, Josh. But if that's how he wants to act, two can play at that game.
"Hello, Ms. Moss. What can I get for you?"
I look up in surprise to find that I've maneuvered my way into the line in the Mess. "Hey, Ivan. I think. yeah, I need a hot fudge sundae, extra whipped cream, no nuts."
Ivan nods understandably. "Coming right up, Ms. Moss."
End Part 3/6