Posted: April 15, 2001
The incessant ringing stirred Donna
from a dream-filled sleep. She groggily reached her hand across to her
night stand and clumsily lifted the instrument. She could not manage to
pry her eye lids open as she tentatively answered.
"Uh, hello," she said softly, hoping
the phonically was just another part of her dream.
"Where are you?" he asked brusquely
without preamble.
"What?" Donna said, shaking her head
to wake herself further.
Her eyes opened reluctantly and she
spied her clock. The numbers in her fuzzy morning vision announced 5:22
a.m.
"You're in bed," Josh said, sounding
shocked. "Half the day is gone, and you're not even awake yet. How am I
supposed to run my office and a campaign if my assistant can't even keep
regular hours?"
"Where are you?" she asked, ignoring
his tirade.
This must be another dream, she
thought. Josh doesn't call anymore, for anything, and he certainly does
a good impression of not needing my help even when he does.
"I am at my desk," he said. "Before
that, I was just at your desk, and guess what?"
"What?"
"You weren't there," he said.
"I'm here," she said as the realization
began to dawn that she was in fact awake and the voice blaring into her
ear was very real and quite agitated.
"Yes, we've covered that," he snapped.
"Will it take an act of Congress to get you from there to here?"
"No," she answered.
"Good," he said tersely and hung up.
Donna stared at the phone for several
more seconds. She blinked several times as she ran through the conversation
in her head again. He was back in Washington; he had been at the office
for some unspecified period already though it only dawn; he seemed miffed
that she was not there as well; he was unapologetic about ordering her
(well before her scheduled hours) into the office for some unnamed assignment.
That's my Joshua!
Her feet hit the floor instantly and
carried her into the shower. She rushed through her morning routine and
dressed in her pale blue suit, the one Sam said showed off her legs and
brought out her eyes. However, she told herself she choice it not for those
reasons but because it was a cool, linen-type fabric that would not wrinkle
or wilt through a long, humid day and would be comfortable enough to live
in for upwards of 20 hours. She downed a glass of orange juice then hurried
to her car.
Traffic was minimal, even with detours
for construction, and she made it through through the security desk at
just after 6 a.m. The cleaning crew was just finishing its chores as she
passed down the still darkened hallways toward the bullpen. Once there,
she turned on her computer and walked casually through Josh's door.
He was seated at his desk intently
reading a copy of the New York Times. She stood in the doorway for a moment,
trying to keep her expression neutral.
"Are you staring for a reason or do
you just have nothing better to do?" he asked without looking up.
"And it's nice to see you too, Josh,"
she said.
"It's always nice to see me," he said.
"Do you know why?"
"I'm sure you'll tell me."
"Because if you're there and I'm here
then both of us are still employed," he said with a smirk as he finally
looked up from his reading. "You're late."
"You're early," she corrected him.
"You were supposed to be flying in on the 8 a.m. today."
"I flew in on the 11 o'clock shuttle
last night," he said. "You should thank me for not calling sooner."
"I don't think I should," she said.
"So what are you doing?" he asked.
"Waiting to see what was so important
that you couldn't wait until sunrise for my help," she replied.
"Look at your desk," he said, pointing
out the door.
She returned to her desk and noticed
a stack of folders that were not there the night before. The contents ranged
from crime statistics involving legally purchased hand guns to health care
costs associated with second hand smoke. There were a dozen in all--each
containing drafts of legislation, newspaper articles and excerpts of congressional
testimony transcripts.
She turned around to see Josh standing
in his doorway. He gestured to the folders and casually informed her that
he needed full run downs on each topic, complete with rebuttal notes on
the oppositions point of view.
"When?"
"Oh, not today," he said easily. "Come
on, it's a Friday. I wouldn't do that to you."
"You have before," she reminded him.
"Well, that was different," he said.
"This is a comprehensive project. Everything else takes a back seat, unless
I tell you differently. I need to be prepped for a panel discussion on
all of those."
"Full reports, bullet points and then
be able to reduce each one to a handful of index cards," she surmised.
"Salient points only?"
"No, full spectrum," he said. "It's
scheduled for three hours and even though it's just for Georgetown, it's
our first venue to land a few punches."
"You expecting a full media press on
this?"
"Let's just say it's going to get the
ball rolling for the president's next two outings and those will have full
media coverage," he said. "And if it happens to put some heat on the Republican
challengers to declare some early positions and alliances, so much the
better. The quicker we can put each of these guys in the box, the easier
things will be for us after next July."
"Why?" she asked as she began making
notes on what he wanted. "What's in July?"
"Miami," he said. "The convention.
Any of this sound familiar?"
"Oh, right," she yawned.
"Curb your enthusiasm," he said. "The
primaries are nothing to us this time around, Donna. The President is the
Democratic nominee. We start our race to win this place back right now.
While the Republicans are squabbling amongst themselves, berating each
other and ripping each other apart, we're going to be shoring up the support
we know we have, trying to win back the votes we lost after the President's
thing was revealed, and fighting like hell for votes we never had to begin
with."
"All this is going to happen because
you and three others are going to sit on a stage at a college in front
of 100 students and disagree with each other?"
"That's the nutshell version," he nodded.
"Right," she said. "And how many weeks
away is this?"
"It's next Wednesday," he said.
"What!"
"Wednesday evening," he said easily.
"See, no need to panic."
"Josh!" she huffed. "That's five days
from now."
"Actually, it's four days if you don't
count today," he said. "And, you probably can't because I'm about to give
you something to do that's going to take precedent over the assignment
I just gave you."
She sat in her chair and sighed. Yes,
she told herself, the slave driver had returned.
*****************
Sam strolled into the west wing, quietly
humming, at just past 6:45 am. The retreat to Manchester the previous week
had done wonders for him, physically and emotionally. Though it was Friday
again, he wasn't counting the hours until the end of his day. He was ready
to take on the challenges that were scheduled for the weekend. His first
major task was to prepare the basics for the President's upcoming education
speech at William & Mary University. The only thing Sam needed to wait
on was the exact specifications that the President wanted to use. That
responsibility landed squarely on Josh's shoulders. Josh said that he would
get right on it as soon as he returned from New York. And by their last
communication, Josh would saunter in at 8:30.
Sam turned the corner, and in his illustrious
mood, didn't even notice that Donna passed right by him.
"Good morning, Samuel," Donna said
in a chipper voice.
"Hey, Donna," Sam replied. "Donna?"
Donna stopped and turned around.
"Yes?"
Sam looked at his watch, then at Donna,
then back at his watch, then back at Donna.
"It's 6:45 in the morning," he said.
"What are you doing here so early?"
"Josh called me at about 5:30," she
said. "Well, I wouldn't really classify it as a call. It was more like
a reprimand as to why I wasn't at my desk."
"Wait a minute," Sam said, his happy
mood fading fast. "Josh called you from New York at dawn to tell you to
come into the office?"
"No, he called from this office and
bellowed for me to come in to get here," she informed him. "He didn't site
specific consequences, but he did mention something about an act of Congress."
"Josh's back?" Sam inquired.
"In more ways than one."
"And he called you?"
"That would be a yes," Donna replied.
"Now why would he go and do a thing
like that?"
"Sam," Donna sighed, feeling slightly
irritated by this mini-inquisition. "The last time I checked, I was his
assistant."
"I never denied that," he said defensively.
"I'm just saying, that lately…"
"Listen, Sam," Donna said as she cut
him off mid-sentence. "I've gotta run these papers down to Ainsley to look
over, and then I've got to get back to the bullpen before he starts thinking
out loud again and there's no one there to hear it. I'll catch you later."
Donna turned away from Sam and resumed
her trek to Ainsley's office.
Sam stood there for several seconds,
stunned.
"Not yet, Josh," he murmured aloud
to himself. "Please, we haven't even begun to fight. Don't break now."
********
CJ sat at her desk, busily typing an
email to her father. Her head was bopping in rhythm to the music coming
from her headphones. The current song ended and the next one caused CJ
to sing along.
"Sugar… ah honey, honey. You are my
candy girl and you got me wanting you…"
Hearing the cacophony, Toby approached
her door and knocked. When she did not turn around, he walked to the side
of her desk and rubbed his forehead.
"Like the summer sunshine, pour your
sweetness over me…" she sang as she finally turned to see Toby, who was
making a rather unusual face.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" he yelled.
CJ stopped the CD and removed her headphones.
"I'm solving the Unified Theory," she
quipped. "I'm listening to music. It's late and I need something to keep
me focused while I wait for Josh and Leo to finish with the President."
"What song were you butchering?" Toby
asked.
"Sugar, Sugar by The
Archies," she informed him.
"I thought that that was just a comic book."
"No, my friend. They also had this hit song. I'll
have you know that The Archies are cool. Better than some of the
garbage that's on the radio right now."
"Okay."
"What do you want?" CJ asked, perturbed at being
interrupted during the song.
"Tomorrow, I want you to brief on the CDC's latest
findings."
"What did they find?"
"During the 90s, gun deaths in the United States
dropped more than twenty-five percent. It's the lowest since 1966. Analysts
credit stricter sentencing, new laws making it more difficult for these
yahoos to get firearms, the diminishing crack trade and low unemployment,
thanks to our booming economy."
"Give me numbers, Toby," CJ said grabbing a pencil.
"There were 30,708 gun-related deaths, which is 11.4
per 100,000 people. That's down 26 percent from 1993, when the toll was
15.4 deaths per 100,000."
"Got it," she said finishing the last line. "Want
me to make it priority?"
"Of course," Toby said. "We want to get this out
as soon as possible. This gun control is going to be big and if we want
to have any hope of winning the south, we need to show people how good
the President's gun control laws are and how bettering them will drop that
number even more."
"And the sooner we pat ourselves on the back, the
more the Republicans will have to scramble to counter. And it will just
make them look bad, considering what we've had to endure," CJ surmised.
"I knew that there was a brain hidden underneath
all that copper hair."
"Hey, what was Sam's thing today?"
"Which thing?" Toby sighed. "Sam has lots of
things."
"I've noticed," CJ said. "This was... I don't
know. He was mumbling to himself all day and he was kind of snippy
with Josh after the staff meeting."
"Did Josh say anything to you?" Toby asked.
He had missed any indications of ill undercurrents after the meeting.
"Josh?" CJ laughed. "Yeah, he wouldn't notice
it Sam lit his head on fire and went screaming through the halls."
"He might if it would lock in a few electoral votes,"
Toby observed. "So would I for that matter."
"My point exactly," CJ said. "Sam and Josh
are frick and frack. The same things usually key up their radar. So it
just seemed kind of hinky that Sam had his boxers in a bunch and Josh was
in his normal oblivious orbit. Any idea what's going on?"
"Separation anxiety," Toby ventured. "I heard
Josh called Donna right after he got back; maybe Sam's jealous."
"Okay, remind me never to have conversations like
this with you again," CJ said, returning to her headphones.
"Gladly," Toby sighed as he turned to leave.
CJ returned to her e-mail and pressed the play button.
"Sing me, sing me, sing me… sing me, sing me, baby…
OOOOOOH."
Toby rolled his eyes and fled out of CJ's office,
trying to escape.
"Why can't she just lip-sync?" he muttered. "She's
so much better at that… I need an aspirin."
********
Donna sat at her desk, trying to sort through the
mountain of folders that Josh placed there earlier. Josh had just returned
from meeting with Leo, after an hour long discussion with the President
on the defection and re-unification of the New York delegation Josh had
dealt with when he left Manchester. Upon his return, he gave Donna new
orders to delay her research and comb through the mountain of files to
find something in the folders to use for a meeting with the NEA on Monday.
Donna took the order in stride, biting back a comment about slave labor
because, though she was tired, she was also pleased. Josh the Terrible
(as her roommate called him) was a Josh she could understand. The creature
who had taken over Josh's corporeal form for the first half of the summer
was a disturbing mix of fairness and consideration. The clone, as she had
begun to think of him, was simply not the Josh Lyman she knew.
She continued her search for the data he requested.
Her search was proving fruitless though. After 20 folders and enough skimming
to make her head spin, nothing caught her eye.
Except the mountain of paper on her desk tilting
precariously to the left. As she steadied the pile, Donna yawned at checked
her watch. It was officially Saturday. Actually, it had been Saturday for
two and a half hours, but that was the first time she had noticed.
As she finished shoring up the leaning tower of political
fodder on her desk again, Josh arrived and haphazardly tossed several more
files on the stack.
"More?" Donna questioned.
"Got a problem with that?"
"No."
"Good," Josh replied then headed towards his dimly
lit office.
Donna sighed. Her desk was in shambles. Besides the
telephone and computer, nothing else was visible. She knew underneath the
ocean of documents were the actual desk top and the highlighters and index
cards she needed. The question was: How to get to them without toppling
the whole mess onto her floor? She knew if that happened, her work area
would be as bad a condition as Josh's.
Then an idea hit her.
She gathered as many folders in her arms and made
a beeline towards Josh's office.
Donna entered the office and dropped the folders
on the floor.
The sudden bang caused Josh to jump. He frantically
looked around and stared at her with a shocked expression that faded as
quickly as it appeared. She was too busy to notice as she turned on her
heel and departed to retrieve the next load. As she disappeared through
the door, he unconsciously placed his hand over the scar on his chest.
When he caught realized what he had done, he placed his hands flat on his
desk and forced himself to take a deep breath.
Donna returned with another stack and dropped them
beside the first.
"What do you think you are doing?" he demanded.
"I'm spreading out," she responded, leaving the office
to grab more folders.
"You're what?" he yelled.
"You heard me," Donna replied. "You've given me a
task to accomplish and since there is no room to spread out at my desk,
I thought that your floor would serve as a suitable substitute."
She came in with the final group and plopped them
beside the other two. Donna then proceeded to turn on the two lamps near
her, sit on the floor and open a folder.
"Donna," Josh said, squinting at the excess light
in his office. "What time is it?"
"You've got a watch, look at it."
"You know that my watch…"
"Sucks," she finished. "Yes, I keep telling you to
buy a new one."
"But I like this one…" he said.
"Then quit asking me what time it is. Just add fifteen
minutes to whatever time it says on that piece-of-crap thing you call a
watch."
Josh shook his head, then look at his watch. He carefully
added fifteen minutes. Josh surmised the time to be 2:50 am.
"Okay," Josh said softly. "It's almost 3 am. We'll
pick this up later this morning."
"When?"
"You can sleep in," he said. "Be back in three hours."
"Better rein in your generosity, Josh," Donna said.
"People will start rumors that you've gone soft on me."
"Hey, if you're not up to the task say so," he said.
"I'll find someone who is."
"Well, it's just that I haven't worked weekends in
quite some time."
"Yeah, well playtime's over."
"Okay," she smiled as she stood. "No more Mr. Nice
Josh. Got it."
"You all right getting home?" Josh asked.
"Yeah," Donna said, her smile growing into a grin.
"Be here at 6 sharp," he commanded. "Don't make me
have the President call out the National Guard."
"Right. Six am it is."
Donna exited his office and walked over to her desk
to get her purse. Her walk soon turned into a full out sprint to the parking
lot. She wanted to get home and get in a suitable nap before returning.
Josh was indeed back and she didn't want to miss it.
