Authors:
WingNuts website: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
Donna sat on the floor of Josh's office; her legs crossed. She was sifting through various reports, hoping to find something that could be used as part of the President's education platform. It was a gorgeous, autumn Saturday afternoon, and Donna felt at home. She was back at the office, working. This was the first weekend in months that Josh asked (it was more like a barking demand) her to. She picked up the last report when Josh breezed in, balancing drinks in one hand and take-out boxes in the other.
"Hey!" she said, straightening out her legs. "You got us lunch. Great. I'm starving."
"A… little help… please," he begged.
"Oh, right," Donna said as she sprang to her feet. She grabbed one box and one drink, set them on the desk and took a seat in the visitor's chair. Josh took his place at the other side. He opened his box and crinkled his nose.
"Ugh! Donna, I think I got your salad," he commented, reaching for the other box. His hand recoiled immediately after being smacked by Donna.
"Ow! Donna…"
"Nope, this time the burger is mine," she said casually. "You need to start eating healthier."
"Says who?" he scoffed.
"Josh," she sighed "This type of food you eat is no longer good for you."
"You wanna know what," he remarked. "I don't even let the Surgeon General talk to me like that."
"That's not what she said," Donna continued, ignoring his glare. "You don't want to have to go to the doctor for an angioplasty to get your arteries unblocked, do you?."
"Frankly, Donna, I'm not worried," he said casually as he reached for a french fry. "A doctor down at GW took a good, up close look at 'em a while back."
Donna dropped the burger and glared at him. The occasional quips about nearly being killed or being bullet proof were disturbing but she was normally able to dismiss them. It was just the warped side of Josh's sense of humor slipping out in those moments. She noted, most frequently, those moments occurred when he was in situations that came too close to revealing some inner weakness he felt was a tragic flaw; the gallows humor was a defense mechanism. And, all things considered, it was a rather tame one for Josh. However, the comments never sat well with her. Donna's recollection of the aftermath of Rosslyn was probably as vivid as Josh's--and in some cases more so as her pain had not been muted or dulled by painkillers.
Her silence prompted Josh to look at her and take in the offended glare. He settled back in his chair, entrenched for a fight.
"Okay, the look...," he said defensively.
"Josh, it's not funny and you know it!" Donna replied and said more quietly. "If this is that shrink's way of treating you, then I'd suggest finding a different therapist."
Josh lowered his head and sighed. He wanted to explain to her his reasons; only he didn't fully understand them himself. He wasn't sure he should explain, even if he could. After all, Donna didn't need to know everything about him. Granted, there was precious little she didn't know. But that didn't give her a privilege to know more. He wasn't sure he wanted her to know more, but some part of him felt the need to explain and the urge to apologize. It was the look on her face, the one she tried to mask with annoyance that got to him. He could see that Donna didn't like hearing him say those things because it hurt her to hear them and hurting Donna was something that hurt Josh nearly as deeply.
"What was that?" Josh asked as he realized she had spoken to him. He shook his head and focused on her words rather than her eyes.
"I said, do you want to see what I've found for the President's education package?" she asked.
It was, in fact, not what she had said initially, but since he did not appear to have registered her first comment she had strategically changed the subject. She was glad he had drifted out of the conversation. Her unconscious slip of the tongue would have been as embarrassing as it was true. And she didn't feel she could share those kinds of feelings she had about Josh with Josh.
"Tell me what you've got," Josh said leaning back and placing his feet on the desk.
"Did you know that fourth graders can't read?" she asked, holding the report in the air.
"No."
"Well, new figures show that more than two-thirds of the fourth graders in the nation cannot read proficiently. The latest from the National Assessment of Educational Progress, also known as…"
"NAEP?" Josh guessed.
"No," Donna rolled her eyes. "Also known as 'the nation's report card,' showed that in a 500-point test, the average fourth grader scored a 217. The average of the top 10 percent of the students went from a 261 to a 264; not a significant increase. However, the bottom 10 percent dropped from a 170 to a 163. Private schools fared a little better. Their average was 234. That's.... It's unbelievable.... incomprehensible! We have to do something."
"And I take it from the furrow in your brow that you have a suggestion," Josh said.
"We need to reeducate the educators."
"Yeah," he nodded. "Very original. You've obviously factored in various quality initiatives, expenditures, social factors and the general opposition to change encountered whenever we suggest 'fixing' anything. So now for my follow up question: How precisely?"
"I don't know," she said emphatically.
"Right," Josh said. "Thank you."
"I just know that its not working the way things are and nothing any other administration has done has worked either," Donna continued. "Josh, public school systems all over the nation are trying different methods of teaching children to read, while all the while, the teachers themselves haven't been trained to teach how the developers want them to teach. Whatever happened to the old 'See Spot Run' series?"
"It went out with high tops and bell bottom pants," he said flatly.
"Bell bottoms are making a comeback, you know," she retorted. "Why can't old-school teaching?"
Josh tilted his head and smiled at her. Donna had a way of making even the most complex situation appear simple and manageable and nearly understandable. In this time of modern technology and new fangled teaching, why can't old-school methods work?
"In other words, if it ain't broke, don't fix it?" he surmised.
"Exactly. You and I were both taught like that, and we came out okay."
"I'd like to think I came out better," he grinned.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she scoffed. "I know the SAT scores, the diplomas from the Ivies and the Fulbright thing. I've heard all that before, Josh, many, many, many times. I could recite it in my sleep."
"You talk about me in your sleep?" Josh asked, suddenly interested in Donna's sleeping habits. "What else do I do in your sleep?"
"That question, I believe, is of a personal nature," she blushed.
"Well, it's never stopped you before," he countered.
"This time I think I'll refrain from telling you," Donna replied.
She paused for a moment and took a bite of the burger.
"Am I in your dreams?" she ventured.
"That question, I believe, is of a personal nature," he parroted.
"Fair enough," Donna replied.
"Okay, back to business," Josh replied, thankful that she didn't pursue her question. "What else do you think we should do?"
"Well," she thought, "we should have a standard way of teaching children how to read."
Josh grimaced. Donna hopped immediately on the defensive to find out why.
"You toss the words 'standard ways' into any education proposal," Josh argued, "and certain vocal, liberal factions--ones we need to court seriously for next November-- and our ever-annoying counterparts on the severe right start in with their tirades..."
"This is when you start calling them Joseph McCarthy disciples?"
"Yeah," Josh said. "They start throwing around the words Communism and accuse us of infringing on their freedom to choose their own methods; there's the argument that we..."
"But it's not politics," Donna pleaded.
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not," she said. "It doesn't have to be. It's about teaching kids to read. Josh, this is a fact: Children in North Carolina are learning a different way to read than children in, say, Vermont. So what happens when the father of the kid in North Carolina's gets a job transfer and has to move the family to Vermont? Since there's no standardized reading system in place, the child could be considered a slow reader in the Vermont school system. And this kid will be labeled a special needs child. It's going to cost Vermont a lot of extra money to bring this kid up to their standards. That's a waste of taxpayers' money because there's nothing wrong with this kid--he just learned differently. And that's not the only waste."
"There's more?"
"Yeah, that poor child's self-esteem," Donna said. "He will never get to realize his potential because one state labeled him special needs. You don't think that affects how a kid matures and approaches ever other aspect of his education? Of his life? And what about military children? The typical military family moves every three years. Those poor souls get lost in the system. Some come out of it all right; some don't. Josh, these children are the future this country. Let's get some stability in our educational system. Forget the uniforms; forget the school vouchers. Reading is fundamental, as the old saying goes."
Josh placed his feet on the floor and sat up.
"Where's this coming from, Donna?"
"I did research."
"No," he shook his head. "The facts are the research. I meant you're... passionate about this. I don't recall educational philosophy being among the scads of majors you test drove for a fraction of a semester. And I know you don't have children so I'm wondering why...."
"I'd like to eventually," she said hesitantly. "And in the future when I do, I want them to have the best education possible. I went through the Wisconsin public school system. And I came out fine. I'd like them to experience what I experienced. And I think that the President can make it happen."
"Okay," Josh nodded. "Let's go present this."
"N.. no," she stammered. "I was just doing the research and making a casual observation. Leo asked you to do this."
"Well, we're gonna run it by Leo, but I think we stand a good chance of...." he trailed off as she shook her head vigorously. "Donna, I would have never thought of presenting this to him. The basic concept here is your baby. You should be there to see if it takes its first steps."
"I… I couldn't," Donna rebuffed. "Josh, I'm... You're the one who does this. I'm... I do index cards for you. I mean, we both know I do more than that--and might I add for considerably less pay than I deserve--but this is a big thing, this education thing you guys are pulling together. If it was such a good idea, why hasn't anyone else thought of it?"
"Who says they haven't?" Josh replied while coming from around the desk and standing beside her. "That's not the point, Donna. It sounds like we could work with this. I'll pitch it, get some feed back and see if it can go anywhere. We're not adding a two billion dollar line item in the budget for it yet. We're putting it on the field to see if it will make the first cut. So come on. Let's go see."
She vehemently shook her head in opposition. Josh's opinion aside, Donna still knew that she was just an assistant and nothing more. There was a small, but discernible, resentment among some of the assistant deputies--those people to whom Josh was a supervisor--that Donna already had too much involvement in the administration. She occasionally joked she was the Deputy-Deputy Chief of Staff, but she was under no delusions about her position. She was grateful Josh placed so much responsibility on her shoulders, but that came with a price and many sacrifices. She didn't mind her extra duties, but she felt awkward even being in the room when a suggestion of hers would be put forward for a possible policy of administration should consider backing.
"No. Josh," she was emphatic. "It's not my place. If I had found a proposal some other official or legislator drew up eons ago that matched this idea but somehow got lost, that would be one thing. But I'm not a policy advisor and if this is a good idea, I think it would fair better if people didn't know it came from someone who's greatest academic achievement was graduation from high school."
"Okay, I think you're wrong and need to re-evaluate how we run things around here, but I won't force you to come with me," he conceded. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm pitching this to Leo so we can see about kicking it around with the Department of Education. But I'm not taking credit for this."
"What if it turns out it's really bad?"
"Okay, if it is, then I'll find a way to shift the blame to Sam," he said. "But it's not, Donna. Trust me. I've worked on lots of education initiatives that made less sense and still got voted in. So when Leo says, kick it around and see what's what, I'm gonna tell him and the President that the foundation of this idea came out of sometimes spacey, yet ever-fertile mind of Donnatella Moss."
"Spacey?" she said. "Okay, now you're not getting anymore of my fries."
"The correct answer is that you stole my fries," he pointed out. "I paid for this lunch."
"Yes," she agreed. "And you haven't touched your salad."
"There is something patently wrong with eating green food," he said as he walked toward the door.
"Fine," she said as she took a large bite of the burger. "I'll wait here."
"Chicken," he said exiting.
*****************
Donna rounded the corner towards the bullpen and met up with Josh.
"Hey," she said, "how'd the meeting go?"
"It went well," Josh said confidently. "Leo likes the possibilities. The President wants to know more but agrees with your read of the situation. In fact, he's got people searching for his old literature textbooks to use as examples if this goes anywhere."
"That's fantastic," Donna beamed.
"Hey," Josh said, suddenly realizing where they were, "where were you coming from? Were you waiting?"
"Oh, I was around," she said.
She had been wandering between the Communications Bullpen and Josh's--pacing. She wanted to know what was going on in Leo's office and at the same time didn't ever want to know what transpired in there.
"You mean you were skulking around," he chided. "You were nosing around--anxious to see what I did with our brilliant idea."
"Our?" she inquired. "When you left your office, it was mine and you were forming contingency plans to lay it off on Sam if it blew up."
"Yeah but I did my thing and it's better than it was so...."
"So you decided you'd take credit," Donna inferred.
"Trust me when I say, it's lonely at the top and you'll learn to appreciate the company."
Sam was several paces behind them as he heard the exchange. He quickened the pace, amazed as always at their synchronisty as they navigated the halls of the west wing. Josh's arrogant strut, coupled with Donna's unassuming stride melded into a kind of physical poetry that, did it not scare him with implications, would have fascinated Sam.
"Hey guys," he said, barreling between Josh and Donna.
The corridor was too small for three people to walk together, so Donna dropped back to allow the deputies to converse. It seemed to her lately that Josh's bizarre behavior shifts of the summer had been passed on to Sam. His manner to Donna was no unlike the assistant deputies. He seemed to be placing himself between she and Josh, literally and figuratively. He sat with them if they ever had lunch or coffee in the Mess. He frequently called and interrupted their working lunches in Josh's office. Donna felt she was being pushed aside or even dismissed. It's not that Sam was being cold to her, but he was managing to make her feel like the third wheel. She was concerned that he had picked up on her suppressed feelings and was subtly making his opinion of them known.
But she shook off those thoughts. That was not Sam's style. He would be more apt to encourage someone he trusted to develop a relationship with Josh. Sam was Josh's best friend. Sam would want him to be happy. And if, by some chance, he did not feel that something developing between Josh and Donna was appropriate, he wouldn't be insidious about blocking the thing. He would be forthright. He would talk with Donna privately and express his concern, giving her the chance to explain the situation. Sam was not deceitful. Subversive and underhanded tactics were not his style. He abhorred them.
"I heard about the education thing," Sam said. "Great idea."
"It was partially Donna's," Josh answered back and giving Donna a slight smile. "She thought of it and I... repeated it."
"Nice going," he threw back at Donna, not looking at her.
Again she noted the distance Sam was placing between she and Josh. She shook her head and let them stroll ahead.
"So you heard about Iowa?" Sam said. Josh's blank look prompted an explanation. "After the caucus, we're taking a detour."
"What do you mean?" Josh asked. "We don't have time for detours."
"Well, Leo thinks we need to court the agricultural community while we're out of Washington," Sam informed him. "We're making a couple stops--I don't remember them all--but we're going to Nebraska..."
"Nebraska?" Josh repeated. "In November? Are we going to be given Prosaic to curb suicidal tendencies?"
"And Wisconsin for certain," Sam continued ignoring Josh's editorial views.
"Wisconsin?" Donna asked. "When?"
"Two days after the caucus," Sam replied.
"Then I can go," Donna said, her mood lightening. "I mean, can I go? Josh, I really need to go."
"Of course you're going," he said. "Who's gonna..."
"No," she cut him off. "I know I'm going with
you, but I need some time off. My cousin is getting married that
weekend. I haven't seen my family in a year--some of them I haven't
seen in several years! I'm not getting home for the holidays.
Please! I'll rent a car or buy a ticket myself from where ever it
is that we'll be beforehand. Then I'll meet up with you guys in Wisconsin.
Come on. I'll just be in Madison for two days."
Madison was the place they were going, Sam said. His interest
in Donna suddenly shifted from non-existent to emphatic. He argued
her case with more fervor than she herself felt. He waylaid all of
Josh's objections before they were fully out of his mouth. In the
end, Josh was forced to merely shrug and say, "I guess so."
Donna enthusiastically hugged Sam then proclaimed she needed to call and urgently RSVP her aunt. She hurried down the hall to her desk sporting a grin she hadn't worn in weeks. Josh watched her make her anxious and excited call. He wasn't pleased she would be off duty for 48 hours, but the smile on her face was enough to dispel most of his not-so-professional objections--the kind he didn't let his mind form fully for fear of what they might mean. Instead, he continued to listen to Sam who was then shifting subjects to polling numbers that Toby was fretting over.
*****************
Thursday, November 15
9:35 a.m. EST
Somewhere over West Virginia
"You'll never guess whose going to be at the wedding," Donna said without preamble as she leaned on the arm of her seat, as usual adjacent to Josh.
"The bride and groom?" Josh remarked as he continued reading.
Leo had handed him a sheaf of notes just before take off and wanted an summary and assessment. Josh was to meet with Leo and the President in less than 10 minutes to discuss the matters in his hands and several others to be occurring back in Washington while most of the staff accompanied the Commander-in-Chief on what Josh felt was an ill-timed trip. Josh was not pleased with the scheduling change for several reasons: Toby's opinion on the necessity of the trip had prevailed over his own and Donna was prattling on about her family gathering. While he could normally deal with the unending details, the fact he had no where to hid should they become too much was unsettling. He checked his watch again to see if it was time to retreat to the President's private office. It was not.
"Bradford," Donna announced.
"Who?"
"Bradford," she repeated. "He's going to be at the wedding and of course I'm so excited to see him."
"Why?" Josh sighed rubbing his hand over his face and admitting defeat in his search for a moment of solitude to do his work. "Who's he?"
"I've never told you about him?" Donna replied. "Wow, I'm surprised I've never mentioned him before."
"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "So what's the deal with Buford?"
"Bradford," Donna corrected. "He was my high school boyfriend."
"Ah, Buford, the first Gomer," Josh smirked.
"Bradford. And he wasn't a Gomer."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I was sharingm" Donna said.
"Donna, I'm not into sharing."
"Sharing is a virtue," she informed him.
"So is patience, and I'm not into that either," he said sharply. Her impassive face stopped the rest of the rant he was ready to loose. Instead he sighed. "Okay, fine. Share. Why did Buford break up with you?"
"Bradford," Donna said. "And why is it that you think every guy I date breaks up with me?"
"Have I been wrong yet?"
"Technically, yes," she responded. "Need I remind you that I broke up with... well, him the second time around?"
Josh shook his head, remembering the conversation from calmer times, before either of them heard the news of the President's illness. He meant it when he informed Donna that he wouldn't stop for a beer if ever she was injured again; Josh just wasn't really certain as to the meaning behind those words. He was even more confused with Donna's reply:
If you were in an accident, I wouldn't stop for red lights…
"Josh?" Donna asked waving her hand in front of his face. "You still with me?"
"Huh? Yeah. Sorry, I was just wondering about Buford.".
"Bradford."
"Yeah, yeah. So what does he do? Live at home still? Teach Driver's Ed? Hang out at the bowling alley looking for love in all the wrong...."
"He sells farming equipment back in Madison," Donna interjected.
"Ah," Josh smirked. "He hawks tractors for a living. It's amazing, Donna, that you didn't snatch up Farmer Brown all for yourself."
"I know what you're trying to do," Donna retorted.
"You do?"
"Yes, and it won't work."
"Well then could you tell me," Josh said. "See I have no idea what we're doing right now and if there's anyway I can avoid this kind of conversation with you in the future, I'd just as soon..."
"You're trying to rattle me," she proclaimed. "It won't work. This is the first time in a long time that I get to see my entire family. There's nothing you can say that will make me mad."
"You can't go to the reception."
"WHAT?" Donna exclaimed. "No! Josh!"
"I have like 11,000 things that need to get done while we're in the state," Josh informed her.
"Josh," Donna pleaded. "You promised me that I could have the entire day to myself. Don't back peddle now."
"Donna…"
"Let her go," came Leo's booming voice from behind the two. "Josh can survive without you for 24 hours, Donna. Hell, he can do it for 48."
"Forty-eight?" Josh said stunned. "No."
"No?" Leo echoed.
"Never," Josh said in an entrenched tone.
"Never?" Bartlet repeated as he sached down he aisle. "That's a discouraging word, Josh. We're heading into the heartland--there's a song about words like that. Need I remind you?"
"God, don't let him start singing," Josh mumbled as he buried his face in his hands.
"Leo, Josh, the thing," Bartlet said and jerked his head to the side with a smile. Leo nodded and said they would be just a moment longer. The President accepted this and moved back down the plane toward his private office.
"Leo, we've got meetings upon meetings, and I'll need…" Josh started to protest again as he stood and gathered his notes.
"Forget it," Leo interrupted. "If you need it that bad, do it yourself. I don't want to hear another word about it. Donna's got a 48-hour respite from you. If I could, I'd go along with her, just so as I don't have to listen to the State Party Chairman whine."
"You rather listen to me..."
"I'd rather do neither," Leo cut him off as Josh
made his way down the aisle.
*****************
Toby sat in the conference room, perusing the pages of the New York Times. The big headlines and most vital stories were read by him hours earlier. Leo and Josh were meeting with the President and Toby had only one regret about not being in that meeting. He enjoyed the perturbed pinch in Josh's face when they boarded the plane. He was a worthy friendly rival for the ear of the President. Toby was savoring his win in this round. He wasn't so sure similar bouts as the campaign heated up would end so cordially or peacefully.
So Toby was taking his moment of victory and solitude to soak in some culture: the theater section. He could not recall the last time he saw a play--an entire play. He wasn't even sure he liked theater but there was something soothing and enjoyable in reading grand, dramatic productions for which the success was known almost instantly after the curtain rose.
In the midst of his quiet time, the door opened and Sam entered with a determined look. Toby swiveled his eyes to his deputy then swiftly back to his pages. He made a strategic decision not to acknowledge him. Solipsism was his word for the day. Sam does not exist if I don't want him too, Toby thought.
Sam stood over Toby for several moments in polite silence. When he realized that he was not going to be addressed, he defied Toby's control of the situation.
"Hey," he said brightly.
"Go away," came the terse reply.
Sam took that as a cue to sit down. "So, we've got some time off for the next hour, huh?"
"Go away."
"Leo's still meeting with Josh," Sam continued. "I think they're going over the thing one more time."
"Good," Toby said turning a page and still refusing eye contact. "I think that's a good idea."
"I think so, too," Sam agreed. "Know what else I think?"
"I could care," Toby said. "Can't you see I'm trying to read?"
"I can see that; I'm choosing to ignore it. I think we need to go out."
"Oh, well go right ahead,"' Toby invited him. " We're 30,000 feet above solid ground. I'll hold the door for you."
"I mean in Madison Friday evening," Sam offered. "All of us. Okay, maybe not CJ."
"I don't want to go out and why not with CJ?"
"She's calling me Spanky again."
"I plan on working on finishing up the Presiden't speech," Toby continued. "Someone needs to make intelligible oratory out of your typos."
"I don't make typos.... my computer does," Sam defended. "Look, Toby. We need to do this. It's.... There could be farther reaching implications if we don't."
"Farther?" Toby inquired. "Sam, what the hell are you getting at? And make it 10 words or less."
"Keep Josh occupied. There, that's three words--you owe me seven more."
"Josh is going to be plenty occupied," Toby proclaimed. "He's got tons of meetings, which frankly, are a waste of time, but I'm glad he's got them and not me."
"Yeah, and when they're done, there's all the rest of his time," Sam argued. "Frankly I think it behooves us to make sure it is filled with appropriate.... comradeship."
"Behooves?"
"Toby, you know how.... relaxed things get when we get this far away from the office," Sam started.
"No, because I don't relax and normally don't leave the office."
"Well, some of us do. And now some of us can't. See?"
"No, but thank you for that stunning display of useless explanations."
"You're reading the paper right now," Sam continued.
Toby leaned forward on the table, finally meeting Sam's gaze. He remarked upon his deputy's stellar observation skills and suggested he offer them to the captain of the plane or perhaps the Secret Service detail. However, Sam was uncowed.
"You came in here for a little peace and quiet, a reprieve from our normal chaos," Sam said.
"And yet you bother me," Toby mused. "Would you get to the point?"
"I've made my point," Sam said in summary fashion. "This is your thing. I do my thing, and Josh has... well.... Donna."
"No," Toby said lowly. "No, I am not hearing this. Sam, I told you so many times that to say it again might make me seriously contemplate homicide but I'll do it all the same: Let it go."
"Toby, don't you see the danger zone?" Sam retorted. "We don't have the office to keep to things in their proper places. I mean, there's this imaginary line. They won't cross it in the office. But out here? There is no line, Toby."
"There is an you crossed it so far back you can't even see it anymore," Toby said lifting his paper up again.
"How can you not see it?" Sam asked. "The subtext is.... it's bold, it's blinking... it's neon!"
"There is nothing there!" Toby said in a dismissing tone. "And even if something was there, it's none of our business. So if it's not a political problem, I don't want it on my radar. As far as I'm concerned, they're two consenting adults."
"Excuse me?" Sam exclaimed. "We're talking about Josh. Adult is a relative term, and how can this not have political implications?"
"Because it doesn't," Toby said firmly. "We're gearing up for the toughest presidential campaign of that 100 years. That's all Josh sees right now. You could put the Rockettes naked in front of him, and you wanna know what his first question will be: Are they Democrats? His second question: Are they Bartlet Democrats? Okay! He's in political commando mode only, so put it to bed, would you please?"
Sam stood and jammed his hands in his pockets. The heat from his face pulsed in his neck and cheeks. He took off his glasses for fear they might steam. His jaw clenched as he controlled his ire with Toby. Biting back the barbed comments that leapt so readily to mind was a feat in and of itself. After a moment of dissecting Toby with a laser sharp glare, Sam turned for the door.
"You're wrong," he said with his hand on the doorknob. "Toby, I know Josh better than you do. If it were any other person, he wouldn't see them, but it's Donna. With her it's different. He loses his train of thought when she walks by him some days. While some part of me finds that intriguing, most of me is scared about what it means to the rest of us."
Toby considered not answering, but Sam's juvenile fixation with this alleged secret affair between two staffers grated on Toby's nerves like fingernails down a chalkboard. Several phrases jumped to his mind, cutting words that were as true as they were harsh and eloquent. Toby's only regret was that Sam had uttered them first--and even then they were directed at Toby.
"Selling out your friends for the sake of political gain offends them.," Toby reminded him.
Sam paused, the words settling into his mind. He recalled the anger and frustration that originally prompted them. He knew, at the time, they were accurate and necessary. But this was different, he felt. He didn't know how or why, but to him it was different. In fact, everything was different now. Ever since a certain midnight conversation with Leo and President Bartlet in the Oval Office in the early spring, nothing was ever the same.
"True," Sam relented. "But I never said your
words weren't effective, which is why I know I'm right. Toby, you
were the
one who justified to me putting the drop-in in that speech because
the numbers were scaring the hell out of you. You said sometimes
politics change everything. You were right."
"Josh isn't a problem," Toby said. "Politics and public opinion are the hurdle. I know you want to argue image to me, but I set the message for this administration, not Josh. And I don't want to hear some pathetic argument about his ability to focus. I don't care if he can't walk and chew gum at the same time. So far, he's quite capable of working next to Donna without tossing democracy into the shredder. So obviously this "problem" you think he has hasn't manifested itself."
"And who do you think has been the one preventing
it so far?" Sam sighed as he left the room.