Ex Post Facto

by Cath1

*Complete* Isn't it funny how life can turn out completely different to how you imagined? Josh/Donna

6. Not So Much A Fairytale

Ex Post Facto – Part Six: Not So Much A Fairy Tale

Author: Cath

Feedback: Won't say no to it… button_mush@hotmail.com is usually quite receptive…

Disclaimer: They're still not mine. Sadly. Although perhaps I own this current rendition of the Moss family? Not sure about the legalities of that one.

Summary: So it's not quite comparable to Cinderella's story. At least, not yet.

Authors notes: Donna POV. About Boston – I've been once, and was more concerned about getting my revision done for my maths A level than doing actual sightseeing, so any inaccuracies can be blamed on my terrible memory and general lack of knowledge. I passed the exam, though…

~*~ Ex Post Facto – Part Six: Not So Much A Fairy Tale ~*~

I'd like to think that what happened between Josh and I didn't affect me in the least. I'd like to believe that I was independent enough to make it on my own after I somewhat foolishly ran off. It would be nice to tell a fairy story about how I managed to leave my old life behind and become responsible, mature and successful overnight.

Alas, true fairy stories don't exist, at least not any that I know of. And none at all that I have ever been told involved the heroine of our tale running back to her parents house, where she remained for several months until they told her to get off her ass and move on. In the kindest possible way, of course.

In my defense, I must say that I did try and make my own way in life, independent of my parents, but it was such a feeble attempt that it was practically non-existent.

Here's the true story of what happened to me after I left the White House, so sit back, enjoy, and then we can get onto the good parts.

It all went downhill from the moment that we slept together. I had known at the time that it was a mistake, but I didn't realise quite how bad a decision it had been. The yelling started, we kept each other at a distance, and that, too, was a mistake. We weren't made to be consummate professionals, we weren't the kind of people who could work together and have a separate personal life, our lives were intertwined, connected in far too many complicated and confusing ways, and I didn't understand that until it was too late. I was naïve and I thought that if I was to pretend that nothing had happened, that we were still the same two people we had always been, then everything would be okay. Admittedly, I see where I went wrong, now. I went too far with the whole 'just friends' concept without actually discussing it, and Josh had his own 'just friends' agenda, which I discovered later was nothing to do with me. Sort of. It's complicated. So the distance between us increased, I discovered that keeping friendship, or any appearance of unprofessional conduct, was too much stress, words were exchanged and I left.
That's the short, nice, non-abusive story, so I'd like to keep it to that for now.

I realised when I got home that night that I'd made another mistake. Well, if I'd been thinking anything at all, I would have realised it. Instead I cried for hours, my misery at my failure in life encompassing me and taking over. The White House, Josh, had been my life, and all of a sudden it was no longer and I had no idea what I was to do with myself. The waves of emotion that ruled my life for the next few days were torturous, and I considered doing some very silly things, and I did some ridiculous things, and I was too stubborn to ask for anyone's assistance, and it was a complete mess. I went to bars, got drunk and slept with several random guys, just looking for some sort of comfort, some way of getting over the loneliness, and, well, I'd rather not dwell on those days too much. Let's just summarise by saying that I made some incredibly dumb decisions that were focusing far too much on my heart than my head.

The days after I'd got over the initial shock were not much better. I finally decided that I wasn't going to find any comfort from picking up guys in bars, and alcohol had no affect other than the awful hangovers. And it was then that I realised that I needed to make some money somehow. Baring in mind that I was still messed up over the whole quitting/Josh/life in tatters episode, I went to interviews and was pretty much laughed out of them. I had little or no education that was relevant. My work experience was confined to working in the White House for the Deputy Chief of Staff. Which was impressive, but when you add the "could you please not contact him because I don't want him to know where I am, thank you", well, lets just say it does little for your credibility. I didn't want to work for anyone in politics for fear that they might tell Josh where I was (I was somewhat paranoid back then) and things basically just got worse and I got myself into a complete state. That was when my mother chose to call me to tell me that she was planning on visiting me some time, and (in a humorous kind of way) could I possibly arrange for a White House tour, and perhaps a meeting with the President? I spent the next three hours on the phone with her whilst she tried to understand from my incoherent sobs what had happened.

I went back to Wisconsin the next day, taking with me nearly all my clothes, everything that I could pack and carry onto the plane.

My mother, father and one of my sisters welcomed me to Wisconsin at the airport, and I greeted them in turn by collapsing into tears, not understanding myself quite why. My sister gave me a big hug, and tried her best to cheer me up, telling me about the latest episode with her friend, who had apparently been cheating on her fiance with a guy named Weasel who liked to watch 1930's horror movies and gave make up tips. I tried my best to find the humor in it, but all I could do was give a weak smile as my father collected my many bags from the luggage carousel and my mother told me about some upcoming book meeting that she was going to go to. I had little more reaction as they got me into the car and took me home.

My sister, Lucybella, took me inside whilst my parents unpacked the car, and sat me in the kitchen as she gave me tips on how to cheer up. The majority of which seemed to involve chocolate, ice cream, and girly movies. I couldn't find it in me to do anything other than to give a rather pathetic and unconvincing smile, but she said nothing of it. After that I went to my old bedroom and held my stuffed teddy bear that I had had since I was a little girl and cried myself to sleep, thinking of my old life, of how wonderful it had been in the West Wing, of Josh. Yes, I realise that I was obsessing somewhat, but it wasn't a conscious decision, I had only discovered after it had all gone how much of my life had been invested in it, in him.

The next few days were little better, and I alternated between yelling at my parents and Lucy, not wanting to be alone, and crying. I could tell that it was getting beyond them, they had no idea what to do when they saw me, should they give me space, or should they sit me down with a cup of coffee and talk to me. And it was irritating me as well, when had I become so pathetic and clingy? When was it that I had turned into this version of me that people felt that they had to tread so carefully around?

And it was only when my mother came to my room one night, talking to me, and telling me that she wanted me to go see a doctor that I decided that I wasn't going to give in to my self-pity.

It was an uphill struggle, but I had to put the past behind me and concentrate on the future. My father managed to get me a temporary job in his office, and I felt like a 16-year-old again, but I didn't refuse it. It was part of my new strategy to get myself back on my feet, to become independent of my family like the rest of my sisters and my brother had managed. I might have been the youngest, but this didn't mean that I couldn't achieve what they had.

I made a conscious decision to not think about the White House, to make myself independent of Josh, to not think about him, to make myself hate him for what he had done, how he had pushed me away. I tried so very hard, but I don't think that I ever actually persuaded myself to hate him. I simply couldn't. I also never forgot my life at the White House, my pseudo-family there.

And life went on like this for a couple of months to come, I lived at home, worked with my dad, and went to the gym with my mom and felt that I hadn't accomplished a damn thing towards my strategy. My mother told me that she agreed with this sentiment, and although it was wonderful having her youngest daughter back home, I was 28 and perhaps needed to rethink the idea of living with my parents for the rest of my life.

So when my eldest sister, Nicolina, invited me to go to Boston with her to visit an old friend of hers who had just had a baby, I didn't say no. I'd never visited Boston before, but Josh had declared, in one of his college reminiscing moments, that it was one of the nicest places in the world. Although, to tell the truth, I think he was quoting this foreign exchange girl he had met there, and only had to let her go since she was going back to Europe, and so I decided to take his (or her) recommendation. Nikki and I stayed in a hotel outside of Boston, and so whilst she was visiting her friend, I caught a train into the center and did some sight seeing. I did the tourist bit and got on a trolley tour, went to the Cheers bar and to Harvard, then MIT. Then I went to Starbucks, bought a coffee and then took it to the park opposite, found a bench and then sat and read the book that I had bought in the sunshine for about an hour. And I agreed with Josh, or the foreign exchange student's opinion. And in a moment of spontaneous irrationality I decided that I was going to live in Boston. Granted, I look back now, and whilst I don't disagree with the idea, perhaps a decision not made on a romantic idea of meeting a nice guy whilst going for a jog through the park in the warm sunshine would have been more appropriate. When I told Nikki later that evening, being careful not to mention either the fact that it had been Josh who had recommended Boston to me, nor the nice guy in park scenario, she just smiled and said nothing, but I could tell that she didn't believe me. I was being impractical Donna again, the one who did such things as drive to New Hampshire after splitting up with my boyfriend, and driving back again mere weeks later because he'd apologised and told me that he was a reformed character. Who then drove back to New Hampshire as soon as said ex-boyfriend turned out to be completely unchanged and inconsiderate bastard. Who then a few years later left the White House for unknown reasons to do with her boss.

Well, quite frankly I was going to show her, and everyone else, that I was being entirely practical and sensible and I was going to move to Boston, damnit.

I think my parents were just as dubious about the whole idea, but chose to be supportive. My mom asked me what I planned to do when I got to Boston, and really I hadn't given it a thought, but I came up with some answer which was apparently satisfactory.

I arranged to have all my things from Washington, where I was adamant that I was never going to return to, shipped up to Boston, to an apartment that I had rented a few days after my arrival there. My parents nodded and told me that I knew where they were if I needed anything, and returned, somewhat reluctantly, to Wisconsin.

The apartment was small and cramped and I began to feel homesick and claustrophobic mere days after moving in. But I persevered, was determined not to return home for at least a few months, and told myself that I certainly had to get myself a job. After being all but laughed out of yet more interviews, and feeling my confidence in myself degenerate to almost microscopic levels, I decided that I would have to get a reference if I didn't want to have to return to college. I still remembered all the phone extensions for each person in the West Wing, but it was a matter of deciding whom to call, whom I could trust.

In the end I came up with Leo. He was notoriously loyal and reliable, and when I phoned through to Margaret, shivering and breathing awkwardly from the adrenaline, she didn't recognise my voice and put me straight through after I had fed her some story. I was incomprehensibly nervous, my voice wavering as I said hello to Leo's barking, and his voice softened immediately at the recognition of whom it was.

He asked how I was, told me, in not so many words, that he had been worried about me, and I told him that I had been staying with my parents but that I was now in Boston. I pretty much begged him for a reference, but he told me not to worry.

The next day I received a phone call from a law firm informing me that they had been informed that I was looking for a job, came with excellent references, and would I come in for an interview? Naturally I told them yes without trying to sound too desperate or grateful, and made a mental note to send Leo some flowers.

They offered me the job at the end of the interview, and I hugged each of the partners in turn and thanked them sincerely, most probably having them question the sanity of their new employee. I was now the new assistant to Mr. James Banks, esquire, and I couldn't be happier.

This happiness remained for about a week before I picked up the newspaper one morning and discovered Josh's picture splashed across the front, the story being that he had accepted money to try and throw the tobacco case out. The details were hazy, mostly a reiteration of Josh's life history, which I knew by heart already. The main evidence was a lost memo (information, they claimed, from a White House insider) which was important in the case against the big tobacco firms.

I wasn't sure what to think. I wanted to phone Josh, to ask him whether I should believe what they were telling me about him, was this something to do with me? Did he fall apart after I left? In some ways I wanted to believe it, to believe that I had some amount of importance to him, if only as an employee, but in my heart, in my heart I didn't believe that Josh was in any way related to these allegations. I sat down in my kitchen chair, the coffee that I had poured myself long forgotten, the toast getting cold on my plate, and I wanted to call in sick, but I knew that it would make a bad impression since I hadn't been with the firm that long. The more cynical part of me praised my good fortune for having got out before any of this came to light, that it wasn't my career that would be ruined. But I wanted to call Sam and make sure that Josh was going to make it out of this whole mess okay, that his life, his career, would be safe. But I couldn't do any of this without alerting people to my whereabouts, which I still didn't want to disclose. I wanted a new life, and in order to do that, I felt that I had to completely cut myself off from the old one. And so when I went into work, and the assistants and other staff discussed it over lunch, I made out that although I had worked in the White House, a fact that they all knew somehow, I had only once spoken to Mr. Lyman, and he seemed quite polite. Which, if they knew Josh at all, was an outright lie, but they where accepting of this, and decided that perhaps the press was over sensationalising the whole affair.

It was July before any truth came to light, a few months where I had debated with myself about the logic of calling any of my old friends, and I was relieved to learn that Josh was not guilty of anything that they had accused. The memo had been uncovered, and there was talk that it might even have been some sort of tobacco conspiracy to tarnish Josh's name. I told myself that I had never even suspected that he could do anything so against his beliefs. But the thought nagged me, kept reminding me that in the moments that I had declared that I hated him, I had told myself repeatedly that he was a lying, manipulative bastard who didn't deserve any kind of pity, of sympathy, of sorrow. That he had brought it all upon himself and he deserved everything that he got.

But deep down, there was the knowledge that I knew that he could never have done it, that it wasn't in him to do it. That I had known all along that Josh wasn't the person that they had made him out to be.

But the exoneration gave me hope again, made life better almost. And though I tried to rationalise it in terms of the government of America, it was really the fact that my friend, my one time lover, wasn't the evil scumbag that he had been accused of being, which improved life.

Boston was now my ideal life, I had many friends, I had a social life of sorts, I had even been out on dates without worrying about what Josh might think. Or at least, I tried hard not to dwell on it.

And then my boss turned 40, and he invited me, along with the rest of the small firm, to the celebrations. Which, retrospectively, is pretty much where everything went downhill, in that all I had achieved over the past months was forgotten as I spotted Sam Seaborn across the dance floor, laughing with my boss and some of his college friends. I was completely shocked and speechless at the same time, I hadn't expected him to be here. I thought that I was never going to see him, or any of them, again. My attention was repeatedly drawn to him from my table as I tried to ascertain whether he had seen me or not. It also didn't help that several of my friends kept pointing to him, having recognised him from some of his TV interviews, and the fact that he was as attractive as I had ever seen him. He seemed not to have seen me, and so I went to the bar and got myself another drink, hoping in some ways to avoid him. Unfortunately, this was the exact place that he found me as I ordered myself a screwdriver and he asked for a beer. "Sam! Wh…what are you doing here?" I asked as convincingly as I could. Apparently he bought it, my having attended a drama group at the age of 15 finally paying off.

"I could ask the same thing of you, but would I be correct in assuming that you are the new assistant who James Banks has been telling me about who used to work in the White House?" He asked, somewhat more honestly shocked. I tried to work my way around his sentence, being thankful that, as a speech writer, his grammar was more comprehensible on paper, well after Toby had helped with it, anyway. I eventually nodded, having understood what he was asking exactly.

"How are you? How are…things?" I asked as we walked from the bar, fully aware of the envious looks that my friends were shooting me from their side of the room.

"I'm fine." He said. And we sat in silence a minute, as I was somewhat reluctant to throw my arms around him and tell him how much I had missed him and everyone else at the White House. He took this silence as a cue to start up some sort of conversation. "I knew James from law school. I'm sure if you tell him you know me he'll tell you about a thousand embarrassing stories about what I got up to at college." He said with some amount of humor, and I felt obliged to laugh, nervously almost. I could tell that he had noticed my frequent glances and psychic messages that I was trying to send to my friends. I was trying my best to convince them that I wasn't interested in Sam, that we were only friends, but their distracting hand movements telling me to go for it informed me that they weren't getting the message.

"Listen, you probably want to get back to your friends." He said uneasily after a moment where I was glaring at some of the girls. "Maybe we'll see each other later." He started to stand, and I realised that I was being quite rude, and that the least I could do was to give him my full attention. Besides, I actually wanted to talk to him, it was just my friends who were being distracting, damn them.

"No, Sam! You don't need to go." I assured him. "Gosh, I'm sorry, just standing here and not talking. I just… I just didn't expect to see you here, is all." And wasn't that the truth. I grabbed his hand and got him sitting down.

"My friends can ask me all about you when I'm done." I told him, gulping at my drink in order to try and calm my nerves. At first it didn't work, and when he asked me a question I was as apprehensive as before. The rest of my drink consumed, I started to relax. "God, I've not seen you in months. I've missed you. CJ, Toby, Leo, the President – everyone." Josh, I added silently, but as far as Sam was concerned, I hadn't thought about him at all.

He drank some beer, and I tried hard not to be amused when the foam surrounded his mouth. It was even harder not to when he said, "Well, what's not to miss?" and I couldn't help but burst into semi-alcoholic giggles. He looked at me strangely, somewhat disconcerted that he wasn't being all that funny.

"I'm sorry, but when you say that with a beer mustache, it really is amusing." I said between laughter. He wiped at his mouth self-consciously, but the proverbial ice had now been broken, allowing us to talk more freely and comfortably for a while to come. He asked me to dance, and grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dance floor, and we danced our way through a couple of songs I only vaguely recognised before a slow song came on. I knew that I had heard it before somewhere, and I racked my brains trying to recall, and then I suddenly remembered where I had heard it before.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked as we danced slowly and silently around the other couples.

"Illinois primary." I said quietly. "We were dancing and you wanted to get a reaction out of Josh and we danced closer." I rambled on. "It was this song."

"Oh." He said. And that was all he said, but I had to know, and I was aware that it was the first time that night, in a long time that I had mentioned Josh out loud, I had to find out about him. Despite my telling myself that I hated him, I knew that the opposite was true, had known for a long time, perhaps since I had first met him that my feelings were of anything but hate.

"How is he?" I asked, and Sam seemed to come out of his own reverie. "When I heard about the tobacco thing, all I could think was that I was so glad that I left when I did. Then I heard that he'd been cleared of it all. I knew anyway. He wouldn't accept money for something like that. He'd rather fight." My trail of thought ended as abruptly as it began, prompting Sam to ask for the first time questions that I suspected he'd never ask Josh.

"What happened between you two?" He asked hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" I tried to misunderstand, but my acting at 15 would only take me so far in this.

"Nothing was the same after the Illinois Primary. Did something happen?" He asked, but his suspicions were obvious.

I decided to neither confirm nor deny, rather telling him enigmatically, "something did happen." Before the song ended and we went our separate ways and I drank myself into oblivion.

My friends questioned me about him almost relentlessly, and I found it somewhat amusing, and reassured them all that we were just friends, expanding on what I had told them about my job at the White House to give a reason for my having known him so well. My friend, Ainsley, in the White House Counsel department where I worked as an assistant had gone out with him for a while, and we hung out a few times, obviously.

They were all too drunk to see any holes in my explanation had there been any, and they accepted it unquestioningly, reverting all their stares to him, more so as they drank more. And in turn I drank more and more, enjoying myself for the most part, until I thought about Josh, which I inevitably did. He was haunting my thoughts as much as he ever had, Sam's appearance hadn't done anything to help in that respect, and it scared me that someone could have such a hold over my life without even being anywhere near.

More drinks than I had sense later and I decided to go back to my apartment. However I had underestimated how drunk I actually was, and overestimated how awake I was and so the moment I saw the chair outside the room, it was too uninviting an invitation to pass up. I slumped into it with a distinct lack of grace, and would have fallen asleep if Sam didn't almost tripped and fell on to me. He offered me a place in his king sized bed, and I couldn't say no. We stumbled upstairs, relying on each other to get into the elevator and walk the 20 steps or so to his room. Exhausted, I took off my shoes and left everything else on as I climbed into the bed. Sam crawled in minutes later, drunkenly sprawling across his side of the bed.

I decided to tell him at last what it was that I was going to tell him earlier, but didn't. What I suspected Josh hadn't told him. He deserved to know, he'd been a good friend to me. And I was drunk and confessing to pretty much everything that I had ever done, including earlier in the night telling all my friends of the crush that I had had briefly on Sam when I had first met him. Which I quickly got over when I saw Josh, but I wasn't that drunk. At that point in the night, anyway.

"Sam?" I said after a while, semi-conscious, and most certainly devoid of any sense.

He grunted in acknowledgment of hearing me.

"Thing at Illinois Primary?" I mumbled trying to form sentences but not managing.

Some sort of sound from Sam, I took it as encouragement to continue.

"Slept with Josh." I said, and it was out there like that. I fell asleep shortly afterwards, and dreamt of fairies and evil stepmother's and ball dresses and falling in love with a prince. Before some pink aliens in blue lycra outfits came along and promptly overtook the world, of course.

"My friends will all be very jealous." I laughed, clutching the piece of that had Sam's email address on it. Sam looked suitably embarrassed, or possibly smug, I wasn't quite sure. He was about to leave, leaning on his car as we stood outside the hotel. There was no awkwardness as he quickly stepped forwards and brought me into a friendly hug, kissing me on the lips briefly.

"And you will email, won't you?" He asked again.

I smiled. "Yes, of course I will, now shouldn't you go back to DC and like, govern the country or something?" He stood back from the hug eventually and got into his car, saying goodbye as he promised that he would write to me, and convince me to visit. I had little intention of visiting, and I knew that as I waved goodbye. I couldn't face going back to DC yet, if ever.

I'd arranged to meet up with some of the girls from work for Sunday brunch, mostly to compare our hangovers, and so I had little time to change when I got back to my apartment before having to go out again. We met at a small restaurant in the middle of town, and they almost immediately demanded to know where I'd got to last night. Apparently I'd made the decision to leave without actually telling anyone and hadn't answered my phone when they called to make sure that I was back all right. I hadn't had time to check my messages when I'd got back, and apologised for making them worry, and that I looked forward to the drunken rendition of 'It's Raining Men' when I returned home. This lead to questioning of where I had got to last night if I wasn't at my apartment. I calmly explained that I had spent the night in Sam's room "as a friend, it was entirely platonic, I kept all my clothes on" whilst they shrieked delightedly and ignored my protests, telling me that it was time that I found myself a man. I continued to try and deny everything, but none of them were buying it. "I wouldn't do that! We're friends! I love Josh, not Sam!" I declared, realising far too late what I'd said. I don't think that I had ever admitted that out loud, let alone in front of all my friends. I was somewhat shocked. All those months of telling myself that I hated the very existence, any mention of the man, I knew that I was lying to myself, but I don't think that I'd ever understood how much of a lie it was. I think my reaction had silenced my friends, as when I finally got back to being in the same realm as them they were all staring at me as though something was wrong.

I couldn't stay there, I had to go back to my apartment, so I made some excuse about having a raging hangover, apologised and left.

I got back to my apartment and more nervous than I had ever been before, I dialed his number. I let it ring until his answer machine came on, and then I hung up. I don't know what I was going to tell him anyway, what I was even ringing him for. I tried again several times that afternoon and evening, but there was no reply, and I got scared before I could leave a message. I checked my emails later, nothing of interest, so I dug out Sam's email address and wrote to him some short message of no relevance.

I sat and watched the TV for a few hours to come, knowing that I'd not be able to sleep. There was too much going round my head. It was annoying, to tell the truth.

Next day I went into work as usual, apologised again for running off so suddenly the day before, and my friends said that it was no big deal. And there it was, completely forgotten.

I went home that evening, and it was eight o'clock before I thought to check my emails to see if Sam had replied. He had, the subject being Josh, and I immediately panicked, thinking that Sam knew, then realised that he was probably just teasing me about what I had told him the other night. I vaguely remembered saying something to him about the Illinois Primary incident with Josh, and he probably was going to laugh at me about it.

Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what I read though.

I sat back in my chair, reading the email over and over. Josh had been in an accident. We were having fun, hell I'd decided that maybe I was in love with him all this time, and he had been in the hospital. I couldn't think straight, I just knew that I needed to be there. I trembled as I phoned the airline to get a flight, and it was lucky that I was on some sort of auto-pilot, I heard myself asking things and writing down answers, but I wasn't thinking, my head wasn't with my body, it couldn't concentrate on anything. The next flight to Washington wasn't until the morning, I'd have to wait until the morning to get to him. I didn't know how I was going to cope. And if I stood too long and thought about it, I knew that I'd collapse, that I wouldn't cope. And so I remained busy the whole night, doing work, packing, informing people that I was going to have to take a few days off at least, that there was a family emergency. James told me that I could take as long as I needed. I packed my bags, I ran round organising everything that I'd need for the next few days, or weeks or however long I was needed. I was running solely on coffee, having gotten little sleep for three nights in a row, and it wasn't until that I got onto the plane that my body finally gave out and forced me to sleep for the short while that we would be in the air.

We landed at Dulles, and I practically ran off the plane, not caring if I was impolite and hit people with my bags or pushed them out of the way. I lined up for an excruciatingly long amount of time, and finally got a cab, only to get stuck in the rush hour traffic. I willed the cars, buses, vans, trucks and everything else to move out of the way, couldn't they see that I was in a hurry, that I needed to get to the hospital? But it took seemingly hours to get to the hospital, and when we got there I jumped out, grabbed my bags, gave the cab driver some amount of money that I didn't count and ran. It wasn't until I got nearer that I wondered what the hell I was doing. Would Josh want me there, would anyone else want me around? I hadn't seen them in months, they'd forgotten about me, moved on, and here I was, barging my way back in. But I didn't doubt for long, I couldn't do it. I needed to see Josh, to see if he was okay, if he was going to live. I found the room, and looked in the window briefly before I entered. Sam was there, sitting as far away as he could, talking to Josh awkwardly. I quietly opened the door. Sam said something about the number of Josh's fans increasing, and I was overcome by the absurdity of it all. I laughed to myself, trying not to disturb Sam, but he had heard me and he turned round. "You're actually going to try and boost that insatiable ego of his by telling him that subscription to his fan club has increased?" I asked, trying my best not to look at Josh, because I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep in control if I did.

"Donna!" Sam hugged me tight, too tight, and I wriggled away, trying to be able to breathe. "It's wonderful to see you. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances." He looked over at Josh, and I knew that I couldn't avert my eyes any longer. I bit my lip when I saw him, tried not to cry. "How is he?" I asked stupidly, not wanting Sam to see how affected I was by it all. But I couldn't do this for long, my eyes trailed towards the bed and the motionless being on it and I was overcome with many emotions. "Oh God!" I said, grabbing Sam's hand, feeling the tears begin to form in my eyes. He hugged me again, less tightly and he said some line about the doctors doing what they could.
"But it's not enough." I countered, realising for the first time that Josh might actually be a mere mortal, and oh, God, how was I going to cope with that? "It's not enough." I repeated. Josh couldn't die, he couldn't, he couldn't. He was Josh. The tears fell, streaming down my face, and I didn't care how I looked, what Sam thought, all I could think was that I needed to be there for Josh, and I moved closer to him, and took his hand and sat beside him. I fussed over him a while, not knowing what else to do, how else to help him. I kissed his forehead, his hand, I tried to have as much contact with his warm skin as I possibly could, in hopes that it might do something to help. Desperately, I told him what I'd been up to since I last saw him, told him that I didn't hate him, that I thought that I loved him. That he couldn't leave me now. And he didn't.

It was over a month later when he was finally well enough to go home, and I didn't know what to do. I knew that I had to let him go to his mother's, that I had to go back to Boston and face the fact that I might not see him again. It saddened me beyond belief, but I knew that there was nothing that I could do about it. He had no idea about my feelings, and from what he had said before I left the White House, it seemed highly unlikely that he returned any sort of feelings. He had put up with me for the past month because he couldn't tell me to go away, because any company was better than sitting there alone, because maybe he felt bad about telling me so harshly that he couldn't stand me. Not for any other possible reason, and now that he was going to live, that he was going to only get better from here on, things had to go back to how they should be. Me in Boston, him in Connecticut until he was well enough to return to DC.

I tried to leave on the morning that I knew he was going, tried to get away without saying goodbye, but I knew I couldn't. I went to see him, he was almost finished packing, and was sitting there alone. I knew that he'd be alone, his mother had told me that she had errands to run and that she would be away for a while. I wasn't sure what she was trying to achieve in telling me this.

I stood, he sat, and we stared at each other for a while.

"When are you going to Connecticut?" I asked pointlessly, since his mother had told me earlier the exact schedule of the day, and she was a woman of her word.

"This afternoon. In fact, any minute now." He replied. I had somehow found myself sitting beside him, my hand in his, and I had no conscious recollection of having done this.

"Thank you for being here." He said quietly, and I couldn't think of anything to say in reply. "I wish… I wish things were different." He said, and I thought so do I, but I wasn't sure what he was trying to say. I wish you were still my assistant so I could continue yelling at you and telling you what to do? I wish we'd never been so stupid as to sleep together? I wish you were still here because I love you and I need you? Hardly likely.

"Don't we all." I said noncommittally.

"I'm sorry for how things turned out." He said, and he sounded so sad, so pathetic. I believed him, I believed that he truly meant it, he just didn't want things the same way that I did, I was sure. And I didn't want to hear him say it.

"Josh, don't." I said, my finger silencing him. "It's in the past. You can't do anything to change it now, you just have to live with it." I tried not to cry, I never wanted to let him see me cry.

"If things were different." He said hopefully, and I knew that he didn't mean it, he was happy with his life the way it was. He had to be. He was better off without me. The tears threatened to escape, and I knew that I had to leave. But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye, and even though I knew that he didn't feel the same way, I brought myself to face him, voices in my head screaming at me. Don't let him get to you, don't let him affect you, say goodbye and walk away, they chanted. But I ignored them. For the first time in my life I ignored the voices, and I bent in to kiss him, his lips warm and inviting. And I wanted to stay like that forever, but I couldn't. He didn't want that, so I moved away. Still holding in my tears, I said, "maybe I'll see you again." And I ran off, hid in the ladies bathroom and let myself cry, the sobs echoing loudly off the walls, reverberating, adding to the noise. I sat there for over half an hour, trying to come to terms with the fact that I would never see him again, that maybe I could go back and tell him that everything could be different. As I walked by on my way out the room was vacant. He had left forever.

The late summer months passed into autumn, and Boston got increasingly cold. I continued to keep in contact with Sam, and he told me all about his life, and I reciprocated with woeful tales of bad dates, of office gossip, of my nephews and nieces who had come to visit with my sister Natalia, how Nikki was pregnant, about my friends. I told him when I had met this nice guy, Matt, and gave details about all the dates we went on, how he took me to the opera, to fancy restaurants, the theater, until he finally decided that he wasn't interested in a long term relationship. I didn't cry at all that night, I invited all my friends from work to my apartment and we all drank wine by the bottle, and watched action movies. I knew that I hadn't loved him at all, my heart would be forever with someone else, but I had wished to at least feel something other than loneliness. Sam told me in return of his progressing relationship with Ainsley, and I was happy that he had finally found someone to spend some time out of work with, someone to care about.

But not once in any of the emails or phone calls we shared did we mention him by name. I tried to blank him out of my life, but it was painfully obvious to everyone that I couldn't achieve this. And life went on as ever before, but it got better. I had new friends, friends who knew little of my history, who still only knew of Josh as the government guy who'd been shot and more recently managed to get himself out of a scandal somehow.

And so it happened one night that we all went out to a restaurant for someone's birthday. We were all having a good time, and I was finally feeling that I was one of the group. Then I saw him come in with this woman, a dark-haired, attractive older woman. I wasn't sure whether I was more shocked that he was in Boston or that he was with someone who obviously wasn't a professional acquaintance. They were laughing, and he looked so much better than he had. God, he looked good. Twelve pairs of eyes drifted in the direction I was looking, and they recognised him immediately. He still hadn't noticed me, though.

"That's Joshua Lyman, isn't it?" Maria asked. I nodded, my eyes trailing him across the room as they were seated in a far corner. He was the subject of conversation for a while to come, my friends getting sneaking glances at him as discretely as they could. He was a minor celebrity, and they all wondered who the woman was, and they discussed the scandal in as much depth as they could remember, even the shooting came up, and I was forced to sit there and pretend that I barely knew him. Well, I could have told the truth, but I didn't want to.

Eventually I went for a bathroom break, Maria coming with me. She continued to talk about Josh and I listened in amusement as she told me what she'd like to do with him if she got the chance. I could only hope that Josh never got to find out, I didn't believe that he had enough energy for some of the things that she described. Someone entered the bathroom, but I was now in the stall, and so we ignored her and continued talking. I invented my own little scenario's of what I would do, for Maria's amusement, although, obviously were based on some of the more unusual fantasies that I had gone over in my mind in the past few years.

I walked out and washed my hands, before starting to reapply my make up, continuing to talk as Maria stood next to me, reapplying her own make up.

"Didn't you use to know him?" She asked almost dreamily. It was quite scary, I can tell you.

I replied yes, and continued with another rehash of yet more completely ludicrous situations in which I would meet him and he'd take me back home with him immediately. Maria and I were in fits of tears due to the laughter by the end of it, and I could hear someone in the stall getting some amusement out of it as well.

"My God, Donnatella!" Maria cried. The lady in the stall then chose to reveal herself, and I don't know whether I was more amused or embarrassed when I discovered that it was the woman who had been sitting with Josh.

She looked at me questioningly. "You're not Donnatella Moss, are you?" She asked. I stopped laughing.

"I am, and you are?" I asked her slowly, hoping that this was some kind of weird set up.

"You know Josh Lyman? You were his assistant, right?" I so didn't want to get into this, and I could see Maria wondering what was going on.

"Who are you?" I asked again, hoping to avoid the question.

"My name is Maggie Ford. I'm here with Josh. You were his assistant, right?" She asked again, and I couldn't see a way of avoiding it this time. I nodded slowly. Maria stood and watched with amazement. I exited the bathroom.

"You were Josh Lyman's assistant?" Maria asked me in a whisper once we'd got out. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I tried to think of a convincing answer that wasn't the actual truth. I couldn't. "It was complicated." I said. "I… He… We… It wasn't something that I wanted people to know. It didn't exactly turn out well." I said, and she nodded in some sort of understanding. When I got back to the table I looked over at Josh's table and saw Maggie talking to him, and they were looking back over at me. I decided to say goodnight to my friends, go home, and get away. I explained that I had a headache, and wanted to go home and sleep. I wished Maria a happy birthday, and hugged her and everyone else, before saying goodnight and leaving the restaurant. I stood outside and waited for a cab, but there were none, so I started to walk home.

"Donnatella! Wait!" I heard a voice yell from behind me. I turned round.

"Go back to the restaurant, Josh." I told him tiredly.

"Donna!" He called again. "Donnatella!" I tried to ignore him. I tried my very best.

"What about Maggie?" I asked in the end.

"What about her?" He asked impatiently. I continued to walk, and he only followed me.

I turned round. "You can't follow me, Josh. You've got no right. We don't even know each other. I've got my cell phone. I'll call the police." I threatened. I never would, I knew I never would.

"I want to talk." He said.

"And you're only a few months too late!" I replied sarcastically. I continued walking backwards.

"I need to tell you something." He tried again. But I was in no mood for confessions. It was too late. We were past this.

"Go back to your girlfriend." I said, "I haven't the energy to do this again, Joshua."

He looked at me, and I immediately felt bad. But I wasn't going to do this, not now. I turned back around and started walking off.

"I want to tell you something." He repeated. "I'm going to follow you until you talk to me."

I thought this over. "Then will you leave me alone?" I asked.

"If I have to." He admitted.

I turned back around and looked at my watch. "I'll give you 2 minutes. After that, we'll see." I told him. In all honesty, I didn't want him to leave my life again, but I think I wanted more from him than he was willing to give, and I didn't want to know the truth. I didn't want to know if he would stay, or if he would leave, I just had to assume that I was alone in this world.

God, I had come so far without him, I thought that I was past all this, that I was finally over him.

"Can we at least go for a coffee? It's freezing out here." He asked, rubbing his hands together and blowing hot air onto them. I considered this a minute. It was cold, and maybe I could get a free coffee out of it.

"Okay." I consented. We walked in silence to the nearest coffee shop that I knew of. Several times he tried to strike up a conversation but I said nothing and he gave up. I wasn't going to let him ruin my life again, I wasn't.

We found a Starbucks, and he bought me a coffee and we sat down on the couch, as far away as possible from each other.

"Say what you have to say." I told him in my most impersonal manner. I couldn't let him think that he had any effect on me at all.

He struggled with his words for a minute, and I felt myself thinking of Maggie, feeling sorry for her almost, left in the restaurant, but any sympathy I had dissolved the second he began to speak. "I'm sorry." He said, and I wondered if he had merely dragged me here to say that. "I'm sorry for everything." I had always known that he had had problems with apologies, but I was hoping that he might elaborate, tell me what it was exactly that he was sorry for.

"I've lost you. Already. Which I think is a miracle even for us." I said with some amount of humour.

He smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was a start. Nothing, no speech yet again, and yet I found myself wanting more, regardless of the time schedule that I had put on him. "I just wanted you to know… I don't regret what happened." I must have been looking at him strangely as he elaborated. "The Illinois Primary. Us." He said awkwardly. "But things… it made things difficult." He was really having a hard time trying to say what it was that he wanted to communicate, and I didn't think that I had seen this in him before. "I'd had some offer, from the tobacco people, they wanted me to help them. They offered me money. I refused. They threatened me, I wanted you out of the way… I didn't want you involved." I said nothing, I didn't know what to say. So I sat still.

"I wanted to protect you. I cared about you, and then after we… after the Illinois thing, I knew that I couldn't let you get hurt." He rambled on, trying to vocalise his point of view, and yet I was still unsure as to what to think of it, what to believe.

"You tried to protect me?" I asked, confused. "You tried to stop me from being hurt by being hurtful?" I wanted to know if this was his idea of protecting me, to ruin my whole life.

"I didn't know what else to do." He admitted, and I thought it was a lousy excuse.

"You're lying." I concluded, not wanting to even consider the truth. "You only wanted to help yourself. I was just a complication." I rose. "If you wanted to help me, you would have told me. You only wanted to help yourself." I repeated, trying to convince myself more than anything, and started to walk off.

"I didn't know what to do." He cried out as I neared the exit. "Us sleeping together confused everything, and at the same time it brought it all into focus." He was starting to yell and I stopped. "I loved you! I knew that I loved you and I had no idea what the hell I could do about it. And there was no way on earth that I was going to let anyone get to you, even if it meant that I couldn't have you." He paused, then quieter, "I loved you, and I could never tell you that." He completed.

I left, unable to hear any more.

It took me longer than ever before to reach my apartment, I was walking in circles, my eyes full of tears. He was lying, he couldn't be telling me the truth. He masterminded the whole tobacco fiasco, and it all went wrong, and he was blamed for it because it was his problem. He slept with me because he was drunk, he never had feelings beyond friendship for me, I was just a convenient lay, a warm bed on a cold night. I meant nothing to him.

But all the while, I knew that I was lying to myself. There had always been something more than friendship between us, despite the fact that I had denied its existence for fear of being hurt. Josh, it seemed, has also tried to ignore it, and was as unsuccessful as I.

I arrived home, still in floods of tears of self-pity for my life, for what could have been, even for Josh. I cried throughout the night, and despite telling myself that I had to pull myself together, nothing would stem the flow. I was glad that the next day was a Saturday, I could lie in, I could get some sleep, and I could brood as much as I damn well wanted without other people bothering me.

Maria phoned at ten o'clock. I ignored the phone, but listened as the answer machine picked up the call.

Hi, sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name, number and a short message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you. … Beep…

"Donna? You there? Hope you're okay. I've got a damn hangover, so if you know any cures, call me, please. Thanks for coming last night. I didn't get home until after 2 o'clock. I think… Got talking to that woman who knew your boss, Maggie. She's really nice, actually. And she told me where Josh Lyman is staying if you wanted to talk to him at all. Anyway, hope you got back okay. Call me later, I'll be in all day. Speak to you later."

I didn't want to know where he was staying. I didn't think. Although I was beginning to come to the conclusion that I should at least apologise for my behavior the night before. And find out if he was telling the truth. Or at least apologise. I should apologise. I wanted to speak to him again. Let him know that I didn't hate him. I could never hate him. He had loved me. He said so. Didn't he?

I called up Maria later, and she told me where Josh was staying without me even asking. I told her that I knew of no hangover cures, and that she should drink lots of water, although it never seemed to help me all that much.

I looked up the number of the hotel in the phone book, and stood staring at it for about half an hour, picking up the receiver, putting it down, starting to dial the numbers, stopping. This sequence repeated itself for a while, then the phone rang. I assumed that it would be Maria, calling to find out if I had phoned Josh, or someone else from work, checking that I got back to my apartment all right.

It was neither.

"Hello?" I answered. No reply. "Hello?" I asked again. Still no reply. "Listen, if you're doing prank phone calls again, I have caller ID and I'll get the police on you." I said, irate. I'd had so many of the damn things recently.

"No, no!" The voice protested. And it was a voice that I knew. I voice that I recognised at one time in my life as well I as I knew my own. "It's me, it's Josh." He said almost nervously. Not that I'd know what he sounded like when nervous, I don't think that I'd ever heard him nervous before.

"Josh!" I said surprised. "Actually…"

"Listen…" We said at the same time.

"You first." We both offered.

"No you!" Again, in synchrony. We laughed, and even that was at the same time.

"Go on." I urged him.

Pause. "I was just phoning to apologise about last night. I'm sorry. I shouldn't drink. We came to that conclusion years ago." I smiled. "I didn't exactly come across as I was hoping. Can you forgive me?"

I think I was beyond shocked. The Josh that I knew had never cared for other people's opinions, nor for forgiveness.

"Maybe we could try again." I said.

"I'd like that." He said.

We spent the next half hour on the phone, discussing arrangements, and talking almost like the old friends that we were.

We met the next day in a bar near to where I lived. He was a little late and I worried that he wasn't going to turn up. When he finally got there he explained that Maggie had been to see him. They weren't going to see each other again, he told me. I shrugged nonchalantly, but internally I was irrationally happy. We then sat in almost silence for a while after he bought me a drink. I became fascinated with the napkin that was on the table. And it really was a very nice shade of blue. But I was fooling no one, not even myself, certainly not Josh.

"So." He started. I nodded, politely, not knowing what to say.

"So." I repeated. He nodded back. And I continued to nod. And I was sure that we looked like those nodding dogs in the backs of cars. Which started me laughing. And nodding more.

"What?" He asked, smiling. "What?" He suddenly realised what we were doing, and stopped nodding. "Oh." He said, breaking into a grin. Then starting to laugh himself. And soon we were laughing almost hysterically for pretty much no reason. Nerves, I assured myself.

"Listen." He said after bringing himself under control. "I just wanted to" cough "apologise about last night. Again. Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you off, it's just a habit I've acquired. Useful for irrational Republicans, not so much for friends." I considered this, not sure which part to pick up on.

"I'm sorry that I walked out on you." I said finally, deciding to ignore both the friend's phrase and the redundancy of irrational Republicans. "It was out of order, it was rude, I should have at least listened to what you had to say."

"No, really, I was wrong, it was my fault."

"I don't think it was." I interjected.

"I was more in the wrong." He seemed determined to be more apologetic, so I conceded.

"Okay, I agree, you were far worse than I was." I said with a smile. He didn't seem to know whether he should be happy at his defeat or insulted because I'd not pandered to his ego.

"Thank you. I think."

The figurative ice seemed to have been broken, and we spent the next few hours talking as we had on the phone, sidestepping certain topics, becoming more relaxed as the evening went on and as we drank more.

"So what happened between you and Maggie?" I asked a couple of hours and a couple of drinks later.

He grinned ruefully. "She said I was more interested in you than I was in her. Apparently I talked too much about politics. And your name came up more than once."

I wasn't sure whether or not to be flattered. So I said nothing. And the conversation continued, and we ignored all issues that could cause a potential problem. Until I was too drunk to care less.

"What you said last night…" I began.

"I thought we were ignoring everything I said last night because I was an idiot?" He countered.

"Well, yes… but no… Yes… whatever." I stumbled trying to think of the correct answer. "But what you said about the tobacco thing, and Illinois. Did you mean it?" To hell with decorum, I wanted to know if he had ever loved me, if I wasn't just imagining things.

He went serious suddenly. "That they played me and I wasn't actually a complete jerk, of course." He grinned, knowing that wasn't what I was asking.

"I mean the other thing. The… the other thing." I didn't want to actually say it.

He nodded. "Yeah." He didn't elaborate.

"So all the things you said, you just wanted to make me quit so I wouldn't get involved? You didn't actually mean those things?" I asked quietly. I brought my head up from its original place of looking into my hands, and stopped at his eyes. He looked directly back.

"I never, never wanted to hurt you. And I don't know what to say or do to make you believe that, or to take it all back. If I could…" His eyes diverted to the floor. I gently took his chin in my hand and brought his head back up.

"Don't do this Josh, don't blame yourself. I hated you at first, but knowing that you didn't mean it, that you were trying to protect me… I can't hate you forever. I don't hate you." I didn't think that I could ever hate him, in fact, but I kept that to myself. He didn't seem entirely satisfied with my answer, and I didn't think that he would ever forgive himself for it, but there was only so much that I could do. We continued to talk for a while to come after that until I glanced at my watch and saw that it was almost half past one.

"It's late." I announced. "I've got to be at work in the morning." He looked somewhat dejected at this idea. "Unless you want to come back to mine for some coffee?" I suggested, purely as an offer of friendship.

"I'd like that." He replied.

We walked back, hand in hand, to my apartment and I knew that I was probably a little too drunk to invite people to my apartment, but this was Josh, it was different. I knew that he wouldn't take advantage of me.

"I've got to get back to DC today." He told me as I handed him the mug of coffee. The gesture wasn't entirely lost on me. We sat on my couch after that just watching TV. I didn't want him to go, I wanted it to be like it always used to be. So we sat in silence and I said nothing about how tired I was for fear that he would go back to DC and never speak to me again. Sometime after two thirty I must have drifted off, for when I next awoke I was asleep on the couch, leaning on Josh, himself fast asleep. It was after 7 o'clock. I didn't have to be at work until nine. I remained where I was, somewhere between sleep and consciousness for the next half-hour, until we both awoke with the alarm ringing from my bedroom.

He was confused for a while, not knowing where he was, not knowing why the hell he had woken up next to me. It was almost amusing to see watch his face as he began to comprehend. Then he quickly stood up.

"I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, looking around nervously, almost, trying to see if he'd left anything lying around. He hadn't and so he headed towards the door.

"You don't want to stay for a coffee, some breakfast, a shower?" I asked. Damn if he was going to run away so fast.

"I'd love to, but I'm catching a plane back at half nine, and I've not even started packing yet." He explained hastily. "Thanks for coming out last night, I really enjoyed myself. And thanks for coffee. I'll call you. Do I have your number? I phoned you, of course I have your number. I'd better be off." He started to open the door, thought better of it, came back over to me, kissed me squarely on the lips before departing. "I'll call you!" He shouted as he closed the door behind him. Leaving me to wonder what the hell had just happened.

He did call me, several times in fact. I didn't tell Sam, I wasn't sure what he would say, and it seemed as though Josh wasn't telling Sam either, as he never mentioned it in his regular emails to me. The election came closer, and Josh sounded ever more stressed on the phone, he told me that he hardly even had time to go home for a shower these days. And even though it was no longer my place, I worried about him. He had recovered from the accident well, but I didn't want him to have to be readmitted to hospital because he exhausted himself, or worse.

The day of the election came, and Josh didn't call me. Not that I had expected that he would, but I was hoping. He and Sam were both so busy to have time to do anything, I decided. But suddenly, I decided that I had to see them all again, that I wanted to be part of the atmosphere, I wanted to be with my friends, with Josh when the announcement was made. I think I even wanted to tell Josh how I felt, I was suddenly overcome with such ridiculous ideas, so I phoned Maria to make sure that I was just being crazy.

"Go." She told me. "Go and find out. You'll only blame yourself if you don't. And if you get there and decide not to go in, do some sightseeing. Take a few days off. No one will mind."

I thought about it for about half an hour after I called her before picking up the phone and calling the airline.

It was late by the time I arrived in DC. I was standing outside the campaign headquarters. Just standing there and trying to decide whether I should go in. Whether they would actually accept my old White House ID as genuine and let me in.

CJ decided for me.

She was on her way back, holding a stack of take out menus in her arms in addition to whatever else it was she was carrying.

"Donna?" She asked before I even had a chance to see her. "Donna, what are you doing here?" She tried to give me a hug, but she was carrying too much, and it all fell to the ground.

"I thought I'd come for a visit." I said nonchalantly. "Do you need a hand?" I asked, seeing that she was struggling, and I bent down and picked up the menus and some other pieces of paper.

"It's a mad house in there." She warned me with a smile. "Are you sure you want to come in?"

I thought about it only for a second before nodding.

She guided me in, letting the security know that I wasn't a threat. I entered, and was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. Seemingly thousands of people, all running round, calling people up, others watching TV screens, computers, trying to figure out if they were going to win a certain state or not. There was a cacophony of noise that accompanied the scene, and it was almost overwhelming.

I followed her through the crowds of people, she seemed to know where she was going, and it was almost too loud to ask. We ended up at the other side of the building, in a small space where Sam and Toby were arguing over the speech, Leo was telling them to be quiet. Their assistants, Bonnie, Ginger, Carol and Margaret were buzzing round, keeping them up to date on numbers, informing them that the President was due to come shortly and other relevant information.

"I've got someone here who wants to see you all." CJ said, motioning towards me. Toby and Sam stopped arguing and looked over, Leo took his gaze away from the TV screens, and all their assistants stood still.

"Donna!" It was almost in unison. I was grabbed and hugged by Sam, Margaret, Carol, Bonnie, Ginger, even Leo. Toby smiled and said hello. There was a jumble of voices as they asked me how I was, what I had been up to, where I had been.

"I've also got take out menus!" CJ declared, and some of the focus was taken off me as they all grabbed the said menus. "Where's Josh?" CJ asked.

"Right here." I heard a voice behind me. Everyone in our area became quiet as they waited to see what reaction I would have. I turned round to see Josh standing with the President and the First Lady.

"Donna!" The President greeted. "Come to cheer me on? You have voted for me, haven't you?" He asked, smiling. The First Lady also said hello, asked me how I was. And I replied politely. But I was more interested in Josh's reaction.

He grinned widely, pulling me into a hug. "Donnatella, I missed you." He said into my ear so no one could hear.

But we had to leave it at that. There was a sudden almost eerie hush over the room. The numbers for the deciding state were coming in. This would be it, the next four years, or the next few months would be determined in this minute. And I felt a part of it for a minute, felt almost as passionate about it all as everyone else in the room did.

Josh grabbed my hand, and held on tight.

The results were announced.

The End

TBC? the more you ask, the more I write…

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