Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247
Posted: March 18, 2002
Homepage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
Notes: You might notice that the chapter name changed from the advertised "Campfire Confessions" to "The White Knight Syndrome." We figured if Aaron can do it at least twice this season (The Butterball Express: The Indians in the Lobby; and The Iowa Caucus: The Two Bartlets) then what the hell. So can we.
"Unbelievable!" Toby fumed as he stormed through the Northwest entrance of the west wing. "He actually thinks that I would let him do it again."
"Well, I see you are your sweet sunshine self this morning, Tobus," CJ said as met the cantankerous speech writer. "What happened?"
"Sam," he huffed. "He actually thought that I would stop at that coffee place."
"Hey!" Sam wheezed, trying to catch his breath. "You left me!"
"You wanted coffee from that coffee place.
And I was sick and tired of hearing you drone on and on about how wonderful
it is. You're young
enough to make the walk back to the office."
"Well it is," Sam said.
"What place is it?" CJ asked.
"It's that new one around the corner," Sam
smiled. "Len's Poppytwist. They have the most fabulous coffee there. Fresh
roasted. I get a cup
every morning and every afternoon. It's like they have some secret
family recipe or something."
"Oh yeah, I know that place," CJ said. "They have the best bagels. They're always fresh out of the oven."
"This isn't happening to me," Toby moaned. "For the love of god, it's just coffee and bagels!"
"Looks like someone didn't stop for their mocha freeze this morning," CJ smirked.
"I can't get over their coffee," Sam continued
taking a sip of the golden java. "It's like they grow their own cocoa beans
down in the
basement."
"I think there's a way for you to find out, Sam."
"How's that Toby?"
"You'll be filling out an application soon if you don't stop talking about that place," he said simply.
"Right," Sam said. "You think they deliver?"
"Sam!"
"Toby," CJ began, "didn't I see you come out of that place a couple of days ago with your mocha freeze that you kept raving about after the State of the Union?"
"It wasn't mine… I got it for Ginger – to go along with her strawberry Danish."
"Right…" CJ smirked and turned her attention to Sam. "So, has your mother decided on whether or not she's coming to Miami?"
"Uh, no" Sam said, staring at his coffee. "But I can call and find out."
Sam turned on his heels and headed down the corridor towards his office.
"I thought that things were… better between them," CJ said.
"Obviously not," Toby replied. "Come see me after your briefing. I have some things to go over with you in regards to Brennan's party."
"Yeah."
"Son, what's so fascinating?" the newly-retired Congressman Earl Brennan said as he clapped Josh on the shoulder. Brennan had been working the crowd--a larger than expected turn out for his retirement from Congress--thanking those who helped him gain his new post as Ambassador to Ireland and grinning victoriously to those who did not.
"I'm sorry?" Josh replied, snapping from his trance. "Congr... I mean, Ambassador. How are you?"
"Not the Ambassador yet," Brennan said with a twinkling smile. "I can't thank you enough, Joshua. How much do I owe you now?"
"Just don't start a war over there," he shrugged. "We'll call it even."
"We certainly will not," Brennan disagreed. "You were the best Chief of Staff I ever had, you've kept my head above water in close elections and kept me in the loop on the ins and outs of my colleagues' shenanigans..."
"Shenanigans?" Josh repeated. "It's not St. Patrick's Day and this isn't a Rotary Club meeting."
"It's my natural bonhomie," Brennan argued but saw Josh's doubtful expression. "Okay, so it's a load of bull, but it's my style."
"I remember."
"I have no doubt," Brennan laughed then turned to his shadowing companion. "You remember Morgan Greene?"
Josh shook hands with the man as he greeted him.
"Sure," Josh said. "The hardest working divorce lawyer in the District. Who's head is on the block tonight, Morgan?"
"Mine," the attorney said. "My wife hates these things, but I have to make the rounds. I have several clients here. Don't eye the room. You'd never know who they were and I'd never say."
"A silent barracuda," Brennan said in a jolly fashion. "Josh, I think I own as much of my career success to Morgan as to you."
"You certainly employed him longer," Josh said flatly.
"I learned my lesson," Brennan replied. "Fourth time is the charm."
"You've been married five times," Josh pointed out.
"Yeah, and the fourth time was the last time I married the wrong woman," Brennan said. "Agatha and I have an understanding. We married for the right reasons and none of them was love. When you make the mistakes I've made, you have to make a choice. Either be alone and miserable or decide that marriage is a business, Josh. Agatha's a woman with good business sense. We don't muck it up with feelings or emotion. We're partners."
"He keeps me on speed dial still," Greene offered. "How's the campaign shaping up, Josh?"
Josh gave the pat answer that things were going well and that the convention was going to really start the ball rolling. He confidently and only Earl Brennan knew how much bluster and bluffing he was doing. After pledging his continuing support and offering any assistance needed to the campaign, Greene struck out into the crowd to search for his disgruntled wife.
"He's a good man to know," Brennan said in his wake.
"So am I," Josh said, gazing across the room at a cluster of women gathered near the balcony. One in particular caught his sights.
"I've known that since the moment I heard you arguing with Senator Byrd's aide in the rotunda," Brennan said. "I'd seen you around and heard of you, but that day.... I said to myself, that boy has to work for me. I should have never let you leave. I know moving on was what you needed to do, but I can't help but wondering what if...."
Brennan paused as he realized that his former employee was no longer listening. Distraction was not a trait he had ever seen Josh display. Brennan was what many in the press called an old-time Washington insider. He knew more about the private lives of his friends, colleagues and enemies than most of their own closest friends and co-workers. He knew about Josh's therapy sessions--both in the past and in more recent years. His former-Chief-of-Staff's uncharacteristic change in demeanor worried the new Ambassador until he zeroed in on the object of his distraction.
"She's much more interesting than my reminiscing," Brennan agreed with a chuckle.
"Who?" Josh responded as he fought to return his attention ton to the conversation.
"Your assistant," Brennan said in a soft approving tone. "Unless your staring at Congressman Balfour..."
"What?" Josh said shaking his head and focusing again. "Yeah. No. I mean, no not Balfour and... I wasn't.... I was just seeing where Donna was."
"You were staring at her," Brennan corrected him with a pleased grin.
"Don't start," Josh shook his head. "Donna is just my assistant. I was... thinking of... of a thing."
"Joshua," Brennan chided.
"I was," Josh argued, feeling that odd filial relationship with Brennan that had been there since the day they met.
Brennan was nothing like Josh's father, yet he had this way about him that carried with it a father-like status. He was the wise uncle who knew just what your father would say to you in a moment of need and would tell you a dirty joke in the very next breath.
"I was just seeing what Donna... Donna Moss, she's my assistant," Josh said, trying to affect a business-like tone. "I was seeing what she was doing. That's all."
"I know who Donna is," Brennan replied. "She's a sweet girl. Very pretty and undeniably devoted to you. I hear that she's also a very competent assistant, too."
"What are you getting at?"
"If you're not ready to see it yourself then I can't tell you, son," Brennan smiled.
"This is getting old," Josh sighed. "My fictious relationship with Donna has grown into an urban legend. There's nothing there. We work together. That's it."
"Doesn't have to be," Brennan offered.
"You are leaving the continent in 24 hours and will be doing god-only-knows what damage to our relationship with Ireland soon enough," Josh sighed. "Congressman, try, please, please, try not to start any of your patented little personal bonfires that I and about 100 other people, who have better things to do, end up running around and putting out before they turn into political conflagrations."
"A piece of advice, son," Brennan relented.
"From you? I thought I was the one who always advised you."
"Just humor the old man would you?" Brennan requested.
"In your declining years, what the hell," Josh shrugged.
"Thank you," Brennan said. "Now, don't roll those eyes of yours when I say this. I'm a crafty, old, sonofabitch who knows more than you do about screwing up a personal life so listen and learn."
"Should I take down notes so your biographer gets the words exact?"
"Joshua, I'm serious," Brennan commanded with a stern stare.
"Yes, sir," Josh replied, stifling his scoffing.
"The ways of the heart are like a piece of legislation," Brennan explained. "You think you know what its saying. You think you control it. You work with it and tweak things and think that's that. But then it takes on a life of its own. It does things that you never thought it could or would."
"Is this some Irish trait that you're polishing for schmoozing on the other side of the Atlantic?"
"I don't need polish, but your listening skills do," Brennan said. "You must frustrate the hell out of Leo."
"Hourly," Josh nodded solemnly.
"He's resisted strangling you this long, so I think you're safe--from him," Brennan continued. "Now, shut up and listen. You are looking at that beautiful, charming woman with more than professional interest whether or not you realize it. Caring for someone and letting her into your life is not unprofessional. Abuse of power and position is, but caring for someone is not nor is acting on those feelings in an honest manner. Now, you may recall that I love to fish. Love is like fishing...."
"Okay, it's segue's like which killed us every time you got the spotlight," Josh remarked and received a disapproving stare. "Sorry, you were talking about something irrelevant that I am listening to with rapt attention all the same."
"Yes," Brennan continued forcefully. "I was about to say the love is like fishing. You cast your line out there. You keep some; you release some. Some just get away. Those are the ones that you regret, Josh: the ones you didn't go after. You're always left wondering: Was that the best of them all? I speak from experience. It happened to me. I thought I had the best catch in the country, but I let her get away. I had her; she was right there and I made the greatest mistake of all. I let my idea of professional duty stand between us. After that, I settled for three others that never really satisfied me. And I had to throw them all back. I never did get the chance to reel in that one special catch ever again."
"You're allergic to fish," Josh pointed out.
Leo appeared to congratulate Brennan just as Josh finished speaking.
"Leo, you aren't hitting him hard enough," Brennan said in a perturbed fashion.
"I'll work on," Leo promised.
***************
The weeks passed and the convention drew near. As promised, the staff was not take to Manchester for a Fourth of July gathering at the President's farm. However, not long after the holiday weeked, they were spirited off to Camp David. A place they were about as wild over as the President himself.
"Good evening, Mr. President," Leo said as he approached the Commander-in-Chief where he sat on the porch of the main lodge.
"Where are they?'
"The staff?"
"Yeah," Bartlet said gruffly.
The early evening meeting with his faithful staff had seemed more like the contentious briefings of nearly four years earlier with the strangers Leo brought in to run the campaign. They were concerned and felt comfortable enough to express that concern. For that, Bartlet was gratified. That they all agreed worried him and put him in an odd circumstance. Their group discussions rarely sounded like a team Xerox production, so the President was uneasy when no one was played Devil's Advocate in their last meeting. It meant one of two things: they were missing some vital point or they were right. Bartlet wasn't sure which one he feared more.
"They're as you ordered: away from you," Leo said dryly taking a seat beside his friend.
"Doing what, specifically?"
"Taking the night off," Leo replied. "I think it's best."
"They're going to kill each other," Bartlet observed without sounding too worried.
"They were agreeing."
"Yet they do it by arguing with each other," Bartlet pointed out. "Leo, is there something going on outside my political peripheral vision that you're strategically not letting me see?"
"Frequently," Leo nodded. "But your political peripheral isn't that great so it's pretty easy. However, in this case, they're all just a little leery. Things have gone reasonably well the last few weeks and the convention is a lock. We have some areas where we need to shore up things, but we're in good shape."
"As good as can be expected," Bartlet observed.
"With us, I'll take that," Leo said. "They're used to the other shoe dropping right about now."
"Hoynes?"
"He's always worried them," Leo said. "He should. He worries me. He worries you."
"He doesn't worry me," Bartlet announced. "He... vexes me on occasion. That's not the same as worry."
"Right, or you would have used the same word," Leo offered. "Personally, I think the guy's an unmitigated pain in the ass, but he's ours."
"Hard to believe that Hallmark hasn't offered you a job."
"Sir, don't get me wrong," Leo said. "I'm not saying he's not dangerous. The guy's a political mercenary and probably wouldn't mind if a piano fell from the sky and hit the lot of us 10 seconds after you take the Oath of Office, but he's not going to arrange it, and that's a lot considering the state of the world."
"Ever the optimist," Barltet said. "The staff can worry themselves into insomnia if they want, but Hoynes is not going to do anything at the convention. I know about his speech; I've read parts of it. It's... It's John Hoynes. We know him; we know what he likes to do and how he likes to do it. Toby and Josh are paying him too much attention."
"Maybe so," Leo agreed with a shrug. "But that's what we pay them to do."
"I thought we paid them to give you headaches and make me sound good?"
"Well, that's why we have Sam."
"And what's CJ? Decoration?"
"Sometimes cooks around the holidays," Leo added. "Plus, she keeps Toby out of my hair some days."
"So they're all playing nice, far from me?" the President asked.
The Chief of Staff then explained his explicit orders to the troops: No work for the evening. Which he and the President knew would translate as: Don't bother the President or Leo for a few hours. Bartlet was pleased they were going to at least pretend they were going to relax. He knew there was a long campaign still ahead and his own mistakes, faux pas and slips of the tongue had not made that road any easier. He listened to Leo's detailing of the staff's plans in a detached way until a word caught his ears.
"Did you say fire?" Bartlet interjected with alarm.
"Yeah," Leo nodded. "They've got a little bonfire going over near the horseshoe pits. Ginger checked with the grounds keepers and security; it's fine. Sanctioned, in fact. It'll be good for them."
"Right," Bartlet replied. "I'll have the agents watching--just in case."
****************
"Knock it off, the both of you!" CJ exclaimed and threw a marshmallow at Sam and glared at Toby. "No shop talk."
"We have a speech to write," Toby said. "We could do it telepathically, but I worry about letting Sam into my head. Frankly, I don't even like letting him get into my car."
"This is about the coffee, isn't it?" Sam asked.
"No, it's about you spilling coffee," Toby sighed.
"I said I was sorry," Sam offered.
"And clumsy," CJ added. "He did admit to being a klutz."
"Yeah, but do you know how much it costs to get the vinyl cleaned in a 10 year old Dodge Dart?" Josh asked.
"I wouldn't worry about cleaning costs," CJ continued. "The coffee probably disintegrated the ancient material on contact..."
"I like my car," Toby continued. "Do you know why it's 10 years old?"
"Because you're cheap?" Josh ventured.
"Because I take care of it," Toby intoned. "It has survived to it's age..."
"The Rust Age," CJ cut in. "I saw one at the Smithsonian last month. It was outside so I'm not sure if it was part of an exhibit they were setting up or someone just abandoned it...."
"You're wrong," Sam said emphatically, causing all eyes to swivel to him. "I mean, it's not like acid. It's good coffee. It really is."
"Oh, for God's sake, Sam," Donna sighed explosively. "Will you just stop talking about the coffee? It's warm, brown water."
"Like the Potomac in August," Josh offered.
The group fell silent for several moments. The crackling of the fire as the wood hissed and popped in the flames. Finally, CJ could take no more of the solitude.
"Okay, game time, kids," she announced. "I vote for Truth or Dare."
"Yeah, because we haven't got enough trouble already," Toby groaned.
"Are you volunteering to be the first victim?" she asked.
"I can sue you for a thousand things and you know it," Toby said. "Bother someone else."
"Okay, so we'll just say Toby told us he wore his sister's pink dress once as a child," CJ concluded. "Who's next?"
Sam covered his mouth to hid the smirk that was chisel on his face. A plethora of J. Edgar Hoover comments sprang readily to his mind, but he refrained from voicing them. There was the Cincinnati text to write still, and Toby in a foul mood would just mean more needless rewrites and belligerent comments when the draft was done. Thankfully, the darkness was nearly complete and with the dark skies came some visitors that caught Josh's attention.
"Are those stars?" he asked looking upward from his place where he sat with his back leaning against a felled log serving as a bench.
"Are you looking to name one, because I think it's been done," CJ offered.
"No," Josh said shaking his head and staring into the enveloping depths of the sky. "I was just... Do you know how longs it's been since I actually saw these? I see sunrises all the time. But stars? I can't recall the last time."
It was a sobering thought for the group. They too cast glances skyward.
"Did you know that on an average clear night you can see roughly 2500 stars?" Donna offered in their silence. "I read that some place."
"She's right," Toby agreed. "My brother used to always tell me little details like that. You couldn't really see stars much in Brooklyn--too much light--but when you got outside the City... Another world. And now he's been up there with them. You want your truth or dare, CJ? That's mine. I'm jealous."
"Who wouldn't be?" Sam remarked. "So when was the last time any of us looked up at them like this?"
"Probably the last time we weren't surgically attached to a beeper or cell phone," CJ sighed.
"I miss a simple meal," Toby said evenly. "Just sitting down at home or in a restaurant, just to eat a meal in peace. No TV, no meetings, no making sure someone saw who I was sitting with or making sure I said just certain words so that my point was made. Just eating, quietly. No rushing, no dealing. None of that."
"Movies, too," Sam continued. "Or TV for that matter. Do any of your recall the last time you watched something just because you wanted to? Just for entertainment?"
"See, you all miss stuff like that," Donna interrupted. "And I can see why, but you wouldn't change any of this just to have those kind of moments back. I might not have a choice. This is your life, these jobs you do. After this job is the next and the next. This is your world. It's not mine. It scares me that it could be over."
"Donna, it's not just you," Toby reassured her. "It scares me, too."
"Okay, now that Toby has just blown my mind twice in less than 15 minutes, I guess we are playing Truth or Dare," CJ said. "I gotta ask this. Josh?"
"I'm not scared," he replied instantly.
"I don't mean now," CJ explained.
"When?"
"When?" she gasped back at him in disbelief. "Your dare is to kiss Toby so you'd better answer."
"I'm sorry?" Toby snapped. "No. That is not a dare and... and.... Josh, she means at Rosslyn. Answer the damn question and keep your lips to yourself."
"That's what he said when he broke up with Amy," Sam offered, then caught annoyed stares from all sides. "Sorry."
"Josh?" CJ pressed. "Am I out of line? I don't mean to pry if you don't want to... I've always wondered, is all."
"He can talk about it," Donna said and caught a questioning glare from Josh. "Well, you can."
"How do you know?" he asked.
"Because you told me," Donna replied. "He's not uncomfortable, CJ. He just doesn't want to make any of you uncomfortable."
"We never asked," CJ shrugged. "It just never seemed to be... a good time. Things were... We all moved on."
"So did I," Josh shrugged.
"Were you scared?" Toby asked, following up on CJ's faltering questioning.
"No," Josh answered instantly and caught disbelieving stars from his colleagues. "I wasn't. There wasn't time. I didn't know what was going on. I'm not sure what I remember versus what is a constructed memory from seeing the news accounts and reading about it. I remember the sounds of the gunshots. I remember being cold. I remember hearing the sirens. I'm not sure, but I think I remember seeing Toby. Then.... I'm not certain of anything until I remember waking up and the President was talking to me. Then, later my mother was sitting by my bed pretending she wasn't crying."
"I found you," Toby said, unnecessarily. "I... I didn't think you'd make it."
"Why?" Donna asked.
"Because I saw what I saw," Toby replied, concentrating on his hands. "Waiting at the hospital, I remember thinking a hospital ER is never that quiet; it seemed like a sign. Then we heard the President was going to be fine, but we were going to have to wait half a day to find out if.... There were things to do, but I found myself writing."
"You didn't do any writing," Sam interrupted.
"In my head," Toby explained. "I was writing, in my head."
"What?" CJ asked.
Toby said nothing. Josh read the grimace on his face and guessed the answer.
"My eulogy?" Josh ventured as he looked at Toby to which the speech writer nodded. "What would you have said?"
"That you were conceited and arrogant and overly-opinionated and high maintenance and shot off your mouth more times than was wise," Toby replied instantly.
"Very nice," Josh nodded admid his colleagues' snickering. "Keep working on it; we'll get it typed up for when I actually kick off. Maybe we can get Trent Lott or read it over a loud speaker..."
"I'm not finished," Toby silenced him and the mirth surrounding them. "You are all those things--in abundance--but you also understand politics the way Bobby Fisher understands a chessboard. Leo made you his second in command and that speaks volumes. We are all part of this team, and there isn't a one of us that hasn't done amazing things for it. Without you, Sam would not be my deputy; without you, Donna wouldn't work in the White House and doesn't end Stackhouse's filibuster last year; without you we wouldn't have taken Illinois the first time. Without Illinois, no California; no California, no nomination. All our lives are so interconnected that to remove one would have broken the chains that tether this administration together. Something like that."
"That wasn't bad," Josh said appreciatively. "But I'm still not going to kiss you." .
Instantly, he received a slap on the back of the head from Donna.
"Okay, I knew you were going to do that," Josh said, turning to face her.
"And you didn't stop me," Donna mused. "I guess you can be taught."
"I'd have said something nice, too," Sam said.
He made it a point to strategically intervene in their bantering whenever he could. Close and informal situations like this, and like the ones that were going to crop up more and more as the campaign rolled on, scared him more than in-office banter. At least the office was a more structured atmosphere. Here, the lines between professional positions blurred.
"Like what?" CJ asked him, looking curiously at his tense expression.
"I'm sorry, what?" Sam asked, registering her question a moment late.
"What would you have said?" she asked again, sporting a curious expression.
"Well, I'd have said...," Sam paused, searching for something and failing. "Well, it would have been something nice."
"Know what would be really nice?" Toby asked. "If Cincinnati was done, you know, like you told Leo it would be."
Sam took the signal and prepared to leave. Though the fire was barely crackling with life, no one else appeared to be on the verge of turning in for the evening. He felt it was safe to leave. CJ and Toby were in battling moods; Josh and Donna would have little opportunity to fall into what Sam was beginning to think of as the Danger Zone--those periods of time when things might happen. There were more of those moments now that Amy Gardner was out of the picture for Josh. Not that Sam wanted her around either. She also distracted him, not the way he feared Donna might. After all, Amy was a speed bump in Josh's life, a long repressed urge from some college days longing. But Donna? Josh wouldn't dismiss her so readily if he had a clue what he felt for her, Sam feared.
Confident they were adequately chaperoned, Sam ambled off to look for something to drink and his laptop to finish the remarks for Cincinnati.
His confidence was not well-placed. Within minutes of his departure, CJ was paged. Her father had tried to reach her; she left the campfire quickly to call him back. Toby, not relishing any further communion with nature, bid his remaining companions good evening. He was in search of some smooth scotch to prepare him for Sam's first draft for Cincinnati.
"You going to go too?" Donna asked, as Josh dumped the rest of CJ's water bottle on the flames then kicked dirt over them to complete the task.
"Me?" he asked. "No. It's just too warm to be sitting by a fire. It's 75 degrees out here."
"It's the humidity," Donna nodded.
"Can I let you in on a little something?" Josh said. "It's not the humidity. It's the heat. When it's 20 degrees and humid, are you hot?"
"Well no..."
"It's the heat, Donna," Josh said as he sat down and looked skyward again.
"Do you want to stay here alone?"
"Alone?"
"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "I could go if you wanted."
"You can stay," he shrugged.
"Okay," she said and sat beside him. "You did very well with answering Toby."
"Is that why you stayed?"
"No," she half-lied. "I mean, yeah. I mean, to tell you. Not to see if you were all right. You're all right, aren't you?"
"I'm fine," he sighed and scuffed more dirt onto the smoldering remains of the fire as Donna yawned. "Are you tired?"
"I haven't slept much in four years, this is not tired," she said then paused. "You never asked me."
"I just did."
"No, I mean about Rosslyn," Donna corrected him. "You've never asked if I was scared. I was. I was terrified."
"Yeah?"
"Uh huh," she said, feeling an inward shiver. "When I heard the news and when I got to the hospital.... All the news was reporting at first was that the President had been brought there. They never said anything about you; no one knew at first. So when I found out... I mean, if it had been any of them, Sam or Leo or anyone, I'd have been scared. But it was you and..."
"Thanks," Josh said sheepishly, knowing there was a compliment hiding somewhere in her jumbled explanation.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
"I'm gonna walk back now," Josh said eventually. "You should probably come with me. Toby thinks there are bears, which means he probably saw a raccoon and... Well, I don't know."
Donna nodded then joined him as they started, at an exceptionally slow pace, toward the lodges a quarter mile away. The moon played hide-and-seek behind some wispy clouds as they strolled peacefully in the calm, sultry darkness.
"I would have said something nice," Donna told him after several moments of silence.
"For my eulogy?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Something about how you treat strangers the way you treat the President, with respect and patience without thinking; the way you take a chance on people because... just because you are who you are. I don't know. Toby would probably have had better words but..."
"They wouldn't mean as much to me," Josh said. "That was... very nice of you to think of saying that."
Donna smiled and took a shaky breath. This was one of those moments that she fought so hard so often. She knew she needed to shift the subject before she said what she really felt and embarrassed herself and Josh in the process.
"Do you really miss the stars?" Donna asked suddenly for lack of anything better. "That sounds too... I don't know, pedestrian for you. You don't strike me as a star gazing type."
"I'm not," Josh admitted. "But my grandfather was. He would sit in the backyard and point out the patterns he could see and tell me about them and how they were the same there as they had been when he looked up at them from Birkenau. He thought they were the only pretty thing left in the universe. I wasn't much impressed by the stars. I always like the patterns in-between them."
"In-between?"
"Yeah, the dark spaces between the stars," Josh explained. "That's the thing everyone overlooks, but its the most important part. Without those overlooked spaces, there would be no patterns--nothing to look at."
Donna looked at him as he gazed upward, into the darkness. After several moments, he could feel her stare. Without shifting his eyes to her, he spoke.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Sometimes, just sometimes, you surprise me," she said.
"Paying back the favor," he said as he returned his gaze to ground level again as they began to walk back toward the lodges.
"For what?"
"For doing the kind of things most assistants wouldn't," he shrugged. "I appreciate it. I just... Your loyalty is exceptional. It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me."
"You mean a lot to me, too."
"If we screw this thing up.... I mean, if we lose...," he began.
"We won't lose," Donna said encouragingly. "You guys will make it work somehow. I have faith in that."
"Yeah, I know," he said with more confidence than he actually felt. "But if we lose, you'll always have a job where ever I am. After what you said earlier, I want you to know that this exact job might not be permanent, but your position with me is as far as I'm concerned. As long as you want to work with me, I'll see that you do. Okay?"
"I wouldn't leave," she said firmly.
"Even if you find something else?"
"Like you'd ever give me the chance," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I don't have the time to find a date for a single evening; how would I ever find the time to look for another job?"
"The guys you date are no good for you," Josh stated.
"You tell me that every man I go out with is no good," Donna sighed. "I'm starting to think I'm destined to be an old maid."
"Old maid?"
"That means spinster," she elaborated.
"I know what it is," he informed her. "I just wasn't aware people still used the arcane terminology. Donna, you don't give yourself enough credit. You're just so eager to find someone that you..."
"Leap without looking?" she offered.
"Yeah, I was going to try to avoid the cliché," he hesitated. "I just mean that you deserve someone who knows how special you are."
Donna kept her eyes forward and said a quick prayer for the darkness that hid the blush burning in her cheeks.
"Yeah, now just point him out to me," she said uncomfortably.
"I wish I could be that guy for you, Donna," Josh said softly without thinking.
"I'm sorry?" Donna asked, her head snapping to the side to look at him.
"Uh, nothing," Josh said nervously. "I... uh.... I gotta check in with... uh...."
"Leo," Donna offered.
"Right," he nodded deftly. "Leo."
*****************
Sam sat in the spacious living area in the staff's lodge staring at his notepad. It had been 20 minutes since Toby instructed him to work on the President's upcoming Cincinnati speech and so far the only thing written on the pad was, "My Fellow Americans."
It's not a bad start, he told himself for the eighth time.
"But it's predictable," he said, predicting Toby's
reaction. "And who else would he be addressing at union rally in
Cincinnati? Canadians?"
He stared at the four wadded up pieces of paper on the end table and sighed. Sam knew he was a proven author – the State of the Union was the prime example. But neither Cincinnati nor worker unions were on his mind at the moment. No, other unions, unsuccessful ones from the past and dangerous ones on the horizon, clouded his thoughts. He started scribbling when Josh wandered in from outside.
"Hey," he said. "Have you seen Leo? "
"You're not at the fire?" Sam asked.
"No, I'm standing here asking you if you've seen Leo," Josh replied.
"Right," Sam nodded. "You just missed him. He went to the Main Lodge. What's up?"
"Uh, I need to see him about Hoynes," Josh said. "I had a thought."
"About?"
"Hoynes," Josh repeated.
"Care to share?"
"Can't," Josh said.
His expression was unreadable, which Sam knew meant the answer lay in that impenetrable realm where Josh kept secrets for people. Hoynes was concerning the entire staff with his demands for changes to policy approach and campaign strategy. He was in a position of power and was having a difficult time recalling that he was the President's running mate not the candidate himself.
"If I can do anything...," Sam offered.
Josh nodded then turned to leave the room. But he paused and turned back.
"Actually...," Josh began. "Are you doing anything?"
"I'm working on the Cincinnati speech."
"Is it important?"
"A speech for the President of the United States? No."
"Let me ask you something," Josh sat down opposite his friend, oblivious to Sam's remarks.
Sam put his pen and pad on the table. "Sure."
Josh paused before asking the question that had been in his mind for quite some time. "What do you think about Donna?"
"She's a good assistant," Sam said as a knot started to build in his stomach. "Why?"
"I don't know," he shrugged.
"She's not your assistant?"
"She is," he said quickly. "But maybe there's.... other things....."
"Other things?" Sam asked, as the knot grew bigger.
"We were talking and...." he sighed.
"Josh"
"Yeah?"
Sam thought for a second carefully choosing his words. "What precisely are you getting at?"
"Donna," Josh began. "She's.... She's a good assistant - better than most. Better than any, actually. She does a lot. Things that are not...."
"Normally associated with the job description?" Sam finished.
"Yeah."
Sam sat erect in his chair and looked at his friend. It killed him to do this, but the campaign is far from over. He sighed.
"I can answer that in three words," Sam informed him. "White Knight Syndrome. Josh, she looks up to you. You took her in at her lowest possible moment. And then when she left and returned, you took her back--no questions asked. You helped her out; you've got connections. There was the whole thing about her being accidentally Canadian. She feels like she... Well, like she owes you."
Josh sat back in the chair. "That's it? You don't think it could be anything else?"
"No," he responded. "What else could it be?"
"Nothing," Josh waved it off.. "Just… People ask me about her sometimes. Her and I actually."
"Well, the hours you work her and the places you take her, it's no wonder people talk," Sam said plainly. "They still talk about you and Amy and that's nothing. "
"Don't remind me," Josh groaned.
"She's gonna be at the convention," Sam pointed out.
"Amy?"
"Yeah."
"That's natural," Josh reasoned. "She supports us."
"She hates you," Sam continued.
"That's natural, too."
"So, you're okay with it?" Sam asked.
"I have a choice?" Josh countered.
"Not really."
"So the Donna thing," Josh said, wanting to get back to the topic at hand.
"There is no thing," Sam reiterated. "She's just Donna--your assistant. That's all."
"Yeah," Josh nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Yeah. It's just work."
"Right," Josh agreed. "It's important work. I couldn't live without her.... I mean, as far as work goes. Which is why it's so strange that people might start to think it was something other than work... "
"Men and women work together all the time, and it doesn't mean anything," Sam explained. "For instance, nobody thinks Ginger has a thing for Toby."
"Ginger does have a thing for Toby," Josh corrected.
"She does?" Sam asked perplexed.
"Donna said so."
"Ginger told her?"
"Carol did."
Sam looked dumbfounded. "I didn't know that."
"So you said," he smirked.
"Well, it doesn't mean anything," Sam continued. "For you and Donna. I mean, there is no you and Donna, right?"
"You're asking me?" Josh questioned.
Sam's brows furrowed as several thoughts – none of them good – rolled through his mind. "There isn't, right?"
"No," Josh assured him. "Absolutely not."
Sam relaxed at sat back in the chair. "Good."
"I'm sorry?"
"I mean, it's good that you both know there's nothing there," Sam said as his eyes darted around the room. "Look, can I make a suggestion?"
"Sure," Josh shrugged.
"Maybe if you don't work her as much. Give her some free time to have a life. Then... then people will stop talking, and it'll be fine."
"Okay," Josh conceded. "Yeah. I... Yeah. Okay, I'll let you get back to... whatever."
"The speech for your boss," Sam reminded him as he picked up his pad and pen.
"Yeah, that."
"Okay."
Josh rose from the chair and headed upstairs towards the door again. He turned and walked back to Sam again.
"See, the thing is," Josh started again. "I sort of wondered if maybe.... I mean, there are times when she and I.... "
"White Knight Syndrome, remember?" Sam said, not looking up from his pad.
"Right," Josh concurred. "But that doesn't explain why I...."
Sam let out a quiet sigh. This wasn't going to be easy, and he had to put an end to it.
"She's an attractive woman, Josh," Sam said plainly. "It's human for any man to entertain those thoughts. I mean... I... I do... sometimes."
"You look at Donna?" Josh asked, taking a few steps closer. "What are you looking at her for?"
"Who doesn't?" Sam said nonchalantly. "She's very attractive, Josh."
"I know that," he said quickly
"It doesn't mean that I'll pursue anything," Sam assured him. "We work together; just like you and she. There's nothing between us."
"Oh, right," Josh relaxed. "See, that's part of the thing."
"The thing that isn't a thing?"
"Yeah," Josh nodded and placed his hands on the back of the chair. "I just started wondering. I always tell her that the guys she dates are no good. And they are. They really are. So she said something to me like who would be good for her and I.... The idea popped into my head that maybe..."
"You're her boss," Sam reminded the Deputy.
"Yeah."
"You're her boss."
"You said that," Josh pointed out.
"It was worth saying again," Sam declared.
"It's not illegal," Josh argued. "Perhaps, to some, it might have the halo of unethical, but if you know us you'd know that it's not like that."
"I know that," Sam accepted, "but not everyone would see it that way. And, like you said, there's nothing between you. Just work."
"She's just...." Josh shook his head, "she's not like anyone I've ever met, Sam."
"Donna is quite a character," Sam smiled.
"She's not a cartoon," Josh snapped.
"I wasn't insulting her," Sam informed him.
"I know."
"You care about her," Sam observed.
"Of course I do," Josh admitted.
"So do I," Sam replied. "We've all gotten close through these jobs we do. We can't imagine working without each other. We've had a few scares were that almost happened and it brought us all closer. So, what you feel is normal. I think maybe it just feels different now because..."
Josh walked around the chair and returned to his seat. "Because what?"
"Because we might not win," Sam indicated. "You know it as well as I do. This thing is going to be close. Ritchie... They like him. A lot. If he.... Well, everything might change and the countdown begins in two weeks in Miami. All you're feeling is what we're all feeling. You don't want to lose any of what we have right now."
"I suppose," he shrugged. "I told her if we don't, you know, win in November, that I want her to stay with me... for work. A huge part of that is because she is so good at what she does; I trust her. But there's another part, Sam. I think I.... I want her around."
"Josh, if you're Donna's White Knight, then she is your Florence Nightingale," Sam sighed. "She took care of you. You needed someone, and she was there. So, you both have taken care of each other. You need to look at things this way: You're not even with each other. No one owes the other anything. The two of you are free to pursue other things, other people. No obligations; you're not tied to each other for eternity."
Josh sat there in silence for a few minutes. "I'm just saying, it wouldn't be all that horrible if I was. I think about it, or, you know, I have... once or twice. Her and me, that is."
"It's not real, Josh," Sam lied.
"It's not?"
"All guys think of that," Sam waved it off. "It's just you being a guy."
"Being a guy?" he smirked. "What the hell have I been previously?"
"A politician masquerading as a regular man," Sam said matter-of-factly.
"Meaning?"
"Your life has never been as complicated as it has been since you joined the Bartlet campaign," Sam said. "You know there's a chance it might suddenly get a hell of a lot simpler. This whole thing... It's just your head playing tricks on you."
"Yeah, 'cause that's precisely what I need," Josh sighed as he rubbed his hand over his face.
"Seriously, Josh," Sam said. "It's nothing. Just a little blip on your radar. I wouldn't worry about it."
"No?"
"No," Sam scoffed. "She's a good assistant."
"You think this is funny?" Josh asked, the tone in his voice conveying seriousness instead of anger.
"Come on, Josh," Sam smiled. "It... it would be like Toby asking Ginger... Uh, no, like Leo asking Margaret out."
"I'd rather he did," Josh answered. "It would keep him away from my mother."
"Your mom's a ticket," Sam offered.
"Okay, you really don't need to say things like that."
"I've seen the pictures," Sam grinned, pleased to switch gears. "She was a hottie when she was younger. She's still got it going on."
"And I'd really prefer it if you didn't even think that," Josh said through clenched teeth. "I remind you that she's old enough to be your mother."
"She's a beautiful, feisty woman," Sam needled.
Josh stood. "Enough."
"She's coming to Miami?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, why? You want a date?"
"I think she's out of my league."
"She is," Josh stated. "She's also married."
"Josh."
"I know" Josh said. "But she's still married."
"Right," Sam said picking the pen up again. "So, I'm gonna write this speech now."
"Okay. Cincinnati?"
"Yeah."
"It's in Ohio," Josh said.
"I should write that down," Sam intoned.
"Ohio is important," Josh said solemnly.
"I know."
"We're gonna loose it to Ritchie," Josh confessed.
"So you're saying the first draft here should be good enough," Sam answered.
"I'm leaving now."
"Take it easy and don't think about... all those things," Sam reassured him. "It's wasted time."
"Yeah?" Josh said. "Okay. Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it. Could we, you know.... Pretend we never had this discussion? I mean, I don't need CJ saying..."
"What discussion, Josh?" CJ said entering the room.
"I gotta go see Leo now," Josh said as he started to leave the room.
"He thinks your mom's a babe," Sam smiled as Josh left the room groaning.
"How is the fourth draft going?" CJ asked the speech writer as she plopped down on the couch in front of the fireplace.
Sam put his pad down – again. He admitted defeat to himself. As long as the living room was substituting for Grand Central Station, he would not be working in the speech.
"Uh, it's... good."
"So you haven't written anything?" She concluded.
"No, not as such, no I have not."
CJ rolled her eyes. "Why do we pay you again? What's the problem?"
Sam rose and made his way over to the liquor cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He returned to his seat and poured the scotch into the glasses and offered CJ hers; Sam quickly downed his and poured another.
"I have other things on my mind," Sam confessed.
"Other things?" she asked. "Such as slipping into a drunken coma?"
"I'll have it done before we leave for the convention," he proclaimed and downed the second drink.
"I know you will because Toby will beat it out of you if he has to," she informed him. "But I think it would go much smoother if you could just do it on your own."
"CJ, could you just...," he snapped. "It'll be done."
"Let's go outside," CJ said, rising from her seat
"I'd prefer to stay here."
"Is this about the convention?" she asked sitting back down. "Toby said your mom isn't coming. Is your father? Are things... I thought things were better with that, are they?"
"What?" he asked looking at her. "Things are.. .things are fine."
"Good," she sighed. "Because we don't need any family matters at the convention. The reason the President asked us to invite some immediate family is so he can thank them for all their sacrifices and support."
"Sacrifices," he scoffed, pouring another round. "Sure, that's what it is."
"I'm sorry?"
"If he had just... if he looked at her the way that..."
"Who?" she asked, carefully sliding the bottle away. "What are you talking about? Sam? Are you still with me?"
"Ruined one relationship because he just couldn't…" he muttered.
"Who?"
"Why can't he look at her that way?" he asked, downing his glass, then CJ's.
CJ leaned forward and placed her hand on his knee. "Sam? Come back to reality."
"Reality?" he rambled. "Yeah, that's what it is. And truth! Oh, who cares about that? Reality is that the truth doesn't matter; you have to make sacrifices."
"Sacrifices? Is this part of the President's speech?"
"Twenty-eight years he lived there, and every day was some lie--and he knew it! He did it willfully. And then...."
"Sam..." CJ began.
"CJ, a man sat across from me and told me that he loves a woman who loves him back," Sam said boldly. "Only, here's the thing, he doesn't have any clue he said it. That's honesty. That's truth. And the reality is, he'll never, never tell her because he was told it was a lie."
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"How do we stand up and say trust us, when we can't even be honest with each other?" Sam asked as round four was poured. "When we sacrifice each others happiness for some nebulous good that might never come about because there are so many other factors involved? Isn't the American Dream more than just making money? Isn't it about happiness? Finding that which makes us supremely and sublimely happy and passing it on to posterity... To say, I did this. Look, it can happen."
"So, what did you tell the guy?" CJ said, grabbing her glass before Sam could.
"I told him what I had to tell him," he said truthfully.
"Fine," she conceded. "Take a break with the speech, Sam. Go to bed."
"I never thought I was like him," he divulged, picking up his glass.
"Like who?"
"My father."
"Are you?"
"I sat there with someone who trusted me and I lied," he choked, slamming the glass down. "It was willful; it was calculated; it was..."
"Forgivable?"
"I'm just like my father," Sam said lowly. "I did what I thought I was entitled to do."
"Sam, if you don't want your father to come, then call him," CJ said plainly.
"It's not him. It's me." Sam stood and wobbled out of the room.
CJ watched as Sam left.
Something happened, she decided. She knew she needed to find out.
*****************
Sam looked at the stairs leading to the upper level where his room was located. He shook his head. He couldn't go to sleep. With sleep would come dreams and he didn't care to face whatever his mind would churn up tonight. He turned instead to the left and struck out of the porch.
Outside, the night air was smooth and calm, yet it made him dizzy. He stumbled as he descended the steps to the ground. He thought a walk might clear his head. He was a little disoriented, though. He wasn't sure which way to the path that lead to the clearing where they had built the fire that evening.
"Hey Sam," Charlie's voice called to him from very near. "Are you all right?"
"Charlie?" Sam asked, searching.
"Behind you," Charlie replied, tapping him on the shoulder.
Sam turned around in a clumsy fashion and stumbled to keep his balance.
"Whoa," Charlie sounded as he grabbed Sam's elbow to steady him. "Okay, Sam, I think you should be in bed. There are some press people here this weekend. Maybe we should get you inside."
Sam scoffed at the idea and shook his head but did not protest further. Charlie guided him slowly across the sweeping lawn that lead back to the lodge where most of the senior staff was staying.
"Do you know what I am?" Sam asked.
"Pretty drunk, I'd guess," Charlie offered.
"I mean, do you know how vile I am?" Sam continued. "Let me tell you, pretty damn vile. I write pretty phrases; I really can, which is surprising, considering how vile I am. Did I tell you that I'm vile?"
"You might have mentioned it," Charlie offered. "But I don't believe it, Sam."
"But I am," he insisted. "I'm a vile, wretched, conniving, hatchman. That makes me a hack. Hack, hack, hack! That's what I did. Yes, it is. I ruined it. And it was easy. Easy as.... as ruining something."
"Is that so?" Charlie continued, steering Sam towards the steps.
"I am Janus," Sam proclaimed as he stopped at the stairs. "A two-faced god. Only I'm not a god. I just played one, and not even on TV. Just in a place. There is a script, though. There is. I know, 'cause I'm writing it. Tinkering, that's what I'm doing. Tinkering with.... I just... I feel evil and awful, and I should because I am. All of those things."
"I don't think that, Sam," Charlie soothed and nudged him up the first step.
"Do you know what I did?" Sam asked painfully. "No, only I know. I ruined a chance for happiness. Maybe not eternal happiness, but we'll never know because I have a fear that it just might have been. See, 'cause I say things and people listen. I change the world with my words and I did it. I certainly did. Because these things are delicate. I know that and I didn't care. Only, I did. I really did, Charlie. But the work is more important. It's the future, you see. Our future. And that was going well until... well, the whole thing from last year. I had to do something. I couldn't fix it, but I could do this."
"Do what?" Charlie asked casually as he opened the door to the lodge.
"I lied," Sam replied simply. "I said it was nothing. But it is. I can see it. I know it. It's a thing; maybe the real thing."
Charlie ushered Sam through the hallway and toward another flight of stairs. Sam was content to accept the direction, so long as he was allowed to continue his self evaluation unhindered. Charlie let him continue, not sure what he was talking about or why.
"Maybe she didn't believe you," Charlie said, hoping to offer some solace.
"Her who?"
"The woman," Charlie answered. "Who ever you told you didn't care. Maybe she didn't believe you."
"It's not a woman," Sam said. "It's Josh."
"I'm sorry," Charlie blurted out, stopping in his tracks. "Sam, I don't think that Josh is...."
"It's not me," Sam cut him off with a sloppy wave. "I told Josh that she doesn't care about him. He's not really... He can't figure these things out--never could. He's no good at this kind of thing, which is why I knew I had to stop it."
"You told Josh that someone doesn't care about him?" Charlie surmised. "Sam, what is this about?"
"Winning," Sam said, as they reached the top of the stairs. "The goal of all that we do. She loves him and that's too much for us to carry. He can't have that because... Because.... Well, it would go wrong and his head wouldn't be where it needs to be and we can't have anyone not doing everything they can. So I stepped in. We were fine so long as he didn't think he cared. Not like that anyway. 'Cause he's clueless, Charlie. If he stayed that way.... But he didn't. After Amy, he started thinking too much and he came up with this. He cares about her and he thinks about her. And he does it so much that he told me. That told me a lot; he doesn't.... Josh keeps things to himself. So when he asked me.... I knew it had to be done."
"Sam?"
"I like Donna, but we can't let this..."
"Josh and Donna?" Charlie asked, putting the fragments of Sam's ramblings together as he escorted Sam into his room. "Josh told you he has feelings for Donna?"
"Yeah."
"And you told him...."
"I convinced him that he didn't," Sam said as he dropped onto his bed. "And that she didn't care for him. Convinced him it was... a form of codependency, a mental infirmity; a figment of his imagination. And he bought it. She'll never know and he'll never tell her because he doesn't think he cares. So there it ends. It's over because I made sure of it."
Charlie stared at him, not sure what to believe or what to say. After a moment, he found his voice.
"He's your friend," Charlie said. "Why would you..."
"Because I can," Sam replied, his words seeped with guilt. "You don't understand."
"I think I do," Charlie said thoughtfully. "That really is despicable, Sam."
Charlie exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He descended the stairs, his mind filled with the confession. He wasn't sure what he should do, if anything. It wasn't his place to play matchmaker or to fix Sam's deceit. Nor was it in his nature to betray a confidence--and Sam had spoken to him in a compromised state. With these mixed thoughts and emotions, Charlie left the lodge. As he did, Toby approached from the President's lodge.
"Have you seen Sam?" Toby asked. "He's supposed to have the Cincinnati draft done for me."
"He's gone to bed," Charlie replied. "He.... He's not in any shape to be writing for the President right now, Toby."
"CJ told me," Toby announced. "I think Leo's right. We are going to kill each other. I vote for Sam to go first."
"I might second that," Charlie said softly then more loudly. "Toby, is Josh with the President?"
"He and Leo, yeah," the speech writer replied.
"Did he seem.... okay?"
"Okay?" Toby repeated. "Okay for Josh? I don't know what that is.. Why? What's going on?"
"Nothing," Charlie said, dismissing the thoughts. "I just didn't know if anything was bothering him."
"Yeah, the Vice President's speech for the convention and the polling numbers out of Illinois and Ohio," Toby offered. "Charlie? Does Sam think something's bothering Josh?"
"I think so," Charlie said. "It's not my place, Toby."
Toby sighed and stepped closer to Charlie. He lowered his voice and put on his most sage expression.
"Look, I know you're privy to a lot of things that the rest of us... aren't," Toby began. "And from that, you develop confidences and I would never ask you to break them. I know your integrity and trustworthiness is of tantamount importance to you doing your job. But I also know that I can count on your honesty and your genuine caring for friends and colleagues."
"Thank you," Charlie said gratefully.
"I tell you this because if there is something going on that I should know about, now is a good time to tell me," Toby suggested. "I'm between crisises right now and I could use a fix."
"It's nothing, Toby," Charlie lied unconvincingly.
"Charlie," Toby warned. "The convention is in two weeks. It's big. Bigger than... anything. You've never been through one before so I can't stress the importance of the team effort needed to pull off something of the magnitude. The eyes of the world, Charlie. We will have nothing short of the eyes of the world on us--and only us--during that week. So if there is anything, any little thing, going on that could distract that attention, I need to know. Now, you asked about Josh. I know this is not something we all ever talk about but... Josh does have..."
"It's not like that," Charlie said quickly. "At least, I don't think so."
"Charlie, if he's got something going on, I need to know," Toby persuaded. "I need to know for two very important reasons. One, the convention, whose importance I recently mentioned. The other, and if you repeat this I will deny it, is that he is my friend. Both of those mean the same thing right now: Josh's well-being is the well-being of the campaign. So, tell me, is there anything I need to know?"
"I don't think so," Charlie replied, setting Toby at ease as he started to walk away. "All I know is, that should the chance ever arise, I wouldn't ask Sam to play Cupid."
"Cupid?" Toby questioned, watching Charlie depart. "Well, it rhymes with stupid and that is a trait I would assign to Sam some days. Wait!"
Charlie stopped in his tracks and turned around.
"Sam can't play Cupid?" Toby repeated and cast a
disapproving stare at the lodge before asking Charlie one final question.
"Is about Donna?"
Up next:
Conventional Wisdom