Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247
Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
Notes: Though Rob Lowe is leaving WW and Sam will be exiting with him next March, WingNuts have negotiated a lucrative contract with "Sam, Sam the Sunshine Man," and he will remain in this serial; it was our intent from the start that Sam would be the first to leave the administration, but we're still building to that so please indulge us and let the plot thicken. That said, we will give you a teaser for the future of Mr. Seaborn--think legal expertise, think environmental, think political aspirations. Now, back to the current chapter.....
Josh ground the heels of his hands into his eyes then shook his head as the looked at his watch: 1:47 a.m. He sat in his seat on the Continental flight leaving Miami for Washington shortly. He had tried making notes, outlining what he needed to do, while waiting to board, but he could not focus. That worried him. There was serious business awaiting him back home. However, he wasn't sure whether it was his fate in Washington or his recent past in Miami that was causing this distraction. And that was what worried him most.
Josh closed his eyes and tried to remember what constituted a happy thought when he sensed someone take the seat opposite his across the aisle. The flight was nearly empty and he could not fathom why someone would take a seat near anyone with so many empty ones to choose from. The reason, when it came, was not a good sign in his mind.
"Josh?" a familiar voice asked as a small, slender hand touched his shoulder.
"SJ?" he turned toward her startled.
"What are you doing here?" SJ Rixon asked, from the seat beside him.
"Leaving," he said simply. "You?"
"The weather's gonna be horrible tomorrow and I need to be back home before noon so I got one of the last flights out," she replied. "What's wrong? The convention isn't over yet."
"It is for me," Josh replied, shaking his head. "Business back home. An appointment."
She stared at him, not believing a word of it. There was an extra cast of guilt on his face and a distraction in his eyes should found troubling.
"Did you get fired?"
He looked back at her and didn't bother to hide the mirth in his reaction.
"Do you see my mother turning cartwheels around here any place," he replied, making a wide sweep of the cabin with his arms.
It had been a long two and a half hours since his pager had gone off--calling him out into the night for an emergency meeting with Bruno Geonelli and Toby. That, though painful, had been the easy part. Once the motivation behind the L.A. reporter's phone call days earlier was determined, the course of action needed was simple to see. It would be simple to execute, too, Josh felt. Bruno, after very little discussion, had agreed. Toby held a fistful of reservations, but faced with the alternatives, had no choice but to concur with the political strategists. Toby had the difficult part now, Josh knew; Toby was the one charged with telling Leo what the trio had decided to do.
"What's the smirk for?" Josh's companion asked.
"Oh, sometimes its nice to share the pain," Josh said cryptically. "So did you beat Hollywood into submission?"
"Filming will begin in September," SJ smiled. "Now, tell me what's going on."
"Nothing," he said. "I have an appointment that I simply cannot miss back home. That's all. It's important that I be there for it. I desperately need to see someone about a thing."
The writer cocked an eyebrow in his direction then pounded her fist on the arm rest of her seat and made a proclamation.
"I call to order the latest meeting of the After Mid-night Karma Club," SJ said then paused. "If this is a political thing that you can't discussion, just tell me so, but otherwise..."
"It's personal," he said quickly.
"What did you do?"
"Me?" he scoffed. "Why does it have to be me? Maybe someone else did something."
"You just said it was personal," she countered. "Personal means it involves you, Josh. Do you need flashcards to help you understand?"
"How is it you make it through security?" he sighed. "Look, don't think you're going to pry anything out of me. The second I tell you anything, you'll be on that phone to the Wicked Witch of the South and then...."
"You mean Marilyn?"
"Yeah," he scoffed. "Nothing is sacred with the two of you."
"Oh, but you are," SJ said dramatically. "Oh Joshua, we worship the quicksand you walk on. We spend our every waking moment thinking and talking about only you. In fact, I'm using my mystical powers right now to channel her telepathically so that she can partake in this discussion. Wait! Yes! Something's coming through.... Here it is... Oh, it's Marilyn. She says... She says.... You're a pompous, conceited, self-centered jackass who should seriously consider ending this love affair you have with yourself."
"The wind out there is pretty fierce," he remarked. "Aren't you afraid a house might fall on you?"
*****************
"Leo… uh… Hi," Toby said tiredly as he located the Chief of Staff in his make-shift office just yards from the convention floor.
It was nearing 3 a.m. and Toby figured he had put off the painful task long enough. Though not a procrastinator in anything other than serious discussions with his wife…. Ex-wife, he reminded himself while stifling a yawn. He had delayed this discussion as long as possible. Josh would be landing in DC soon. Leo could veto their plan with a simple phone call, but Toby's job was to insure that the call was never made.
"What's wrong?" Leo asked, zeroing in on Toby's expression with the accuracy of a marksman.
This man never gets tired, Toby thought as he mustered the energy necessary for the battle ahead. He's got more than 15 years on me and I'm the one whose dragging. He hasn't slept in probably 20 hours and the only way I know that is that his tie is not knotted tightly and his jacket looks slightly unpressed but it looks better than mind does when it comes back from the dry cleaner's.
"Toby?" Leo's voice was more stern this time.
"Yeah, could we….," Toby gestured to the door. Leo nodded as Toby rose to close it then took a seat opposite the Chief of Staff's small desk.
"What is it?"
"So we had this talk earlier with Bruno," Toby began. "Josh and I did."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Toby sighed and ran his hands over his face. He took a deep breath and then clasped his hands together to focus. "It was about the reporter who called Josh."
"What reporter?"
"The L.A. reporter," Toby said. "She got a tip."
"Toby," Leo said tersely. "This isn't Masterpiece Theater. I don't have time to wait for the second act. What are you getting at?"
"The break-in," he said simply. "It was a thing."
"The….?" Leo's confusion dissolved quickly.
"Yeah, the office in California," Toby continued. "The doctor's office."
"How bad?" Leo asked, sinking into his chair and suddenly feeling all the sleepless night's leading up to the convention.
This was absolutely the worst time for this to happen. The national spotlight was theirs and theirs alone. The only thing that could ruin that would be something as awful as what was putting that dire look on Toby's face.
"Not so bad," Toby said.
"Not so bad?" Leo barked harshly. "Toby, you're the one who keeps saying we are not past this credibility issue. Now we're gonna knocked out of the headlines by a story that says our guy is seeing a…"
"Yeah," Toby said, relenting a smile almost devious smile. "One of our guys."
"I'm sorry?"
"Not our guy," Toby said. "One of our people."
"I don't understand," Leo started then paused as he observe Toby's expression. The pieces fell into place quickly. "No! Oh, no. Tell me. Toby, tell me he didn't… Oh, what am I saying. Of course he did."
"Say Leo," Toby said in a flat tone, "did you know that Josh has been seeing a psychiatrist?"
"No," Leo replied aggressively. "This is not how we are doing it. "
"It's done."
"You know, it's stunts like this that make me wonder if he really is nuts," Leo said grabbing the phone on the corner of the desk and stabbing at the numbers to Josh's pager with twice the force necessary. "I'm not so sure about you, either."
"Makes two of us," Toby said softly.
"I want him here," Leo said dropping the phone back in it's cradle after the summons was sent. "Now!"
"Can't," Toby shrugged. "He already left."
"For?"
"Washington," Toby said. "About three hours ago."
"And I'm just hearing about this now?" Leo asked.
"In all fairness to me," Toby said, "this is the first time I've spoken with you since it was decided."
"Which of you idiots thought not including me in the discussion was wise?"
"I'd argue the idiots characterization, except that it was Josh's call so, it was him," Toby said. "And I do agree with him. This has nothing to do with the administration. Not really."
"Not really?"
"It's a personal issue that has nothing to do with the campaign or the President and we saw no reason to involve anyone further," Toby said. "Whether he told you of his personal business as his superior is another story, but as far as regulations read, it doesn't appear he was under any obligation to do so."
"Toby."
"Leo, there was no other way," Toby explained. "They've got some juicy possibilities for a story. They've got records and you know how that goes."
"Yeah," Leo sighed heavily and fell silent.
"It had to be done," Toby said, arguing the case further as the lines in Leo's face grew deep and circles under his eyes appeared. "They have phone bills showing calls to the White House; they have financial statements showing flights to DC corresponding the timelines for those calls. We believe they even have a voucher for transport service to the White House from the hotel."
"Yeah, but Toby, those all weren't…"
"But they were," Toby replied. "They're all associated as costs incurred and billed in accordance with case file 01-BW-1010-AS."
"And that is…"
"That's Josh's file," Toby said. "People have information. It points to a patient…. A client, whatever they're called. "
"But they don't know that," Leo argued. "They don't know who it is and that it isn't just one…"
Leo stopped as the simplicity of the mitigation measure and spin control materialized before him.
"They think it's just one person," Leo said softly.
"Yeah," Toby agreed. "We're giving them his identity."
He was no more used to the basics of the plan than Leo was though he'd had several hours to digest it. There was something unsettling to him about setting up a friend for a firestorm. That the individual knew it was coming, asked to be the one to face the storm, somehow didn't make it any easier.
"It might not work," Leo said without conviction. "If someone thinks already that the 'client' is someone else…"
"Why would they?" Toby said, posing the same question that Josh did when he won the argument with Toby. "He's the most likely and most believable candidate. And… Well, its true. The story will run and it will be accepted because it is true. None of it is made up or false. Look, they've got a few pieces right now. We're just going to run a two minute drill and speed things along. We're giving them pieces to fill in the gaps. Forty-eight hours after it breaks it will be collecting dust. Leo, if we don't leak this then it will catch us in a matter of weeks and it will sink us in November. That I guarantee."
"What are you giving?"
"I'm sorry?"
"The pieces," Leo asked. "What are the details of this ingenious plan you three stooges hatched by the light of the silvery moon?"
"I prefer three amigos," Bruno Geonelli said as he opened the door from the hallway. "We've got more of a Latin flavor this far south."
"Bruno, what the hell were you thinking?" Leo asked as Bruno closed the door and joined the two men around the desk.
"That I like winning," the political strategist replied promptly. "That you like it as well. And, from what I've seen, so does the President. Josh likes winning. That's why he did this. No one forced him. It started as his idea."
Leo leaned back in his chair and sighed forcefully again as he stared at the two men bathed in the anemic light of a fluorescent desk lamp.
"Oh, I don't doubt it," the Chief of Staff said. "But, as a general rule, I don't give Josh's brilliant-after-midnight ideas a lot of thought until after sunrise or I have my first cup of coffee for the day—whichever occurs later. Know why? Because you'd be amazed at how often they cease to be brilliant in the reasonable light of day or a strong belt of caffeine."
"I agree," Bruno nodded. "That's what makes this slipshod plan work so well. It stinks as far as evasion goes."
"I'm sorry?"
"It's insane to think it will work," Toby said. Leo glared at him. "I'm quoting Josh there."
"It looks like a bad cover up," Leo replied, knowing now for certain how the plot was set to unfold.
"Precisely," Bruno said, seeing that Leo was following along. "One man. One story. One problem: his. All of it is personal and none of it has anything to do with the candidate. Therefore, it is of little if any interest to the voters. We're all pieces on a chessboard here, Leo. Sometimes you sacrifice a piece."
"Sacrifice?" Leo growled. "He made himself a target for something that is not his fault and is not something—considering what it is—that anyone should have to be a target for."
"Yeah, but he's had experience," Bruno agreed, catching a stern and displeased stare from Leo. "I mean politically speaking, but… Yeah, like that, too."
"What happens now?" Leo asked, resigned to the new reality of their strategy.
"Nothing," Bruno said. "If this works, and unless people in Washington think it impossible that Josh Lyman was ever less than 100 percent emotionally stable…."
"Not likely," Toby offered and received an acknowledging shrug and nod from Leo.
"Then he endures about a day of questions and two days of whispering behind his back from people who would do it on a normal day anyway," Bruno summed up. "Then it's done. It's over. For him, for everyone."
"I want to talk to him," Leo said.
"He won't get hurt," Toby said.
"Oh, I know," Leo replied in a flat tone. "Josh never gets hurt, just ask him."
"That's why you want to talk to him," Toby surmised. "He's not answering your page. He thinks you'll try to talk him out of it."
"Would it work?"
"You wouldn't have to," Toby replied. "Josh will do anything you ask."
"Leo, if you want this to go away, don't ask him to stop," Bruno said.
"I won't," Leo said quickly, earning him a startled look from Toby. "Guys, you sold me. I just want to know that... I just want to talk to him."
"I'll get him," Toby said.
*****************
"You don't get it," SJ said, stirring Josh from his attempt at sleep following a 40 minute Q&A about his travel that yielded her no results. "It's about you, Josh. You're my Aaron."
"I'm sorry?"
"From my book," she explained. "The one you say more than two people read. I wrote that character based on you. You're the guy who screws up, who falls down, who drops the ball or whatever and still finds redemption in the only place it matters--with himself. I know you're not there yet, but I've got hope for you. I have to; you talked me off a building once; I believe you can do it for yourself."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said dismissively. "And I'm trying to sleep."
"No, you're not," she replied. "And you do know what I'm talking about."
"You weren't going to actually jump."
"I was," she recalled. "Josh, a jury had just convicted my father of killing my mother and two brothers by intentionally burning our house down when I was eight. Trust me. I had every intention of taking a walk into oblivion that night, but you stopped me. You told me about... Look, the point is, you coaxed me back from a personal abyss. If I thought I could do it for you, I would. But I can't. I think the only person who can do that for you is you. So I'm just telling you that it's past time you did it."
"And again, with this nonsense," he shrugged, uncomfortable with the conversation and the memories it conjured.
He knew she would have jumped that night and at that time some part of him had been jealous; not of her dangerous frame of mind that night but of her conviction that she could do it. She impressed him further with her ability to change her mind and decide not to do it with equal furvor.
"It's not nonsense just because it makes you uneasy," SJ said. "It's true and you don't like hearing it. Well, now it's my turn to talk to you: None of your friends are afraid of your demons. Know why? Because they're not real. None of them. Did you ever wonder what's going to happen when you realize that you've actually found peace with this past you regret? That you've forgiven yourself for being human and blameless? Josh, you're going to have to face the fact that the rest of your life is waiting for you and you're going to enjoy it. Damn! What a horrible thing for fate to do to a guy, you know."
"Go away."
"It's a tube, Josh," she pointed out. "Not a lot of places to go."
"Look, just leave me alone," he said in a testy manner. "Something happened with Donna and... Just leave me alone."
"Something bad?"
He shrugged. He didn't know what to think of it. He certainly didn't stick around long enough afterward to find out what her thoughts truly were. And, now that he thought of it, leaving without a word of explanation looked exceptionally bad on his part. But there was the message on his pager and the reporter and....
"You're afraid," SJ said with some astonishment. "Finally! This has been a long time coming."
"I'm sorry?"
"Josh, you come to these personal cliffs over and over again in your life--everyone does--but yours are so much higher," the writer explained solemnly. "You instinctively make them that way. And for all the anxiety they give you, you're never afraid because you don't let yourself fear things. Time to learn something, Mr. Fulbright Scholar: Fear is good--it's natural and healthy. You never let yourself feel that; while we're on the subject, you don't let yourself feel a lot of things. You think them through to distraction or you react to them so swiftly that you don't give yourself a chance to..."
"You're not my psychiatrist," he interupted in a scoffing tone. "Trust me there."
"No, but I'm one of your biggest fans," she said. "I'm telling you that it's time you stop surviving."
"What?"
"You've already done it," she explained. "You've survived; now it's time to move on and just live. Go apologize to Donna for whatever you did--and be honest with her about why you're sorry. I can see that whatever it is is just eating you up inside. Be honest with her and this thing will work itself out, whatever it is. Like I said, it's time for you to accept that you can be content with all the parts of your past that you despise and regret; they're history--your history. Let them go and move on to your future. Look at yourself objectively for a second, and I think you'll see you have more strength in what you preceive to be your moments of weakness than you give yourself credit for. In short, life is good, Josh. Live it."
"Why does anyone think you can write?" he asked aggressively. "And how did you get a a degree in Philosophy from Harvard with that kind of thought process? Life is good--live it? What opium-smoking, alpha-wave-emitting, half-wit of a schizo-street prophet fed you that line?"
"Okay, if you're gonna hit me with logic, I don't have time to chit-chat," she said after failing to find quick enough comeback. "Do you want my advice?"
"Never," he said.
"Tell Donna you're sorry," SJ offered as she leaned across the aisle to look squarely in his eyes. "But you're not, are you?"
"I don't know what you mean," he said evasively.
"You have some sort of regret about whatever it is you did, but you're not sorry," she surmised the kissed him quickly on the cheek; he blinked and stared back at her stone-faced. "That's the thought process that got me a degree. Oh, and it's in English. Philosophy was just my minor."
"Okay," he nodded, feeling a chill shake through his bones because he knew she was right.
*****************
The day of the President's acceptance speech dawned. Leo had his conversation with Josh, who assured him of precisely what Leo feared: he knew what he was doing. Satisfied that his deputy was function on what passed for normal in his world, Leo set about dealing with the rest of the chaos involved in running the country and trying to keep the administration on track. It was after two o'clock when he received an unexpected visitor.
"Leo, Anna Lyman is here to see you," Margaret said quietly.
"I thought she left earlier," Leo asked without looking up from his stack of messages.
"The weather canceled her flight this morning," Margaret replied.
"Well, I'm kind of busy here," Leo said in an annoyed fashion.
"I think you should see her," Margaret replied.
"Fine," Leo said gruffly. "But I only have one minute, precisely that, not a second longer."
Anna Lyman entered the room, holding her chin high and her back rigid. She eyed the room. The door to the adjoining room, doubtlessly the President's make-shift office for the morning, was slightly adjar. However, she was essentially alone with the Chief of Staff.
"Sorry about your flight," he said warmly. "I don't control the weather, Anna."
"I know very well what your capabilities are," she said sternly, her green eyes looking eyes and dangerous.
"I'm sorry?"
"I wish you were," she said, standing before him.
"What is this about?"
Without answering, she slapped him soundly on the cheek. The snap of the blow filled the room as did the shock of Leo's face.
"What the hell?" he exclaimed.
"That's for lying to me," she said, her body quivering and the tears she had cried on her way to the hotel brimming again in her eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're a deceitful and selfish man," she snapped. "I trusted you. I won't make that mistake again. He pushes himself to his very breaking points and beyond for you, and all he gets in return is dispair and pain and," she paused to look at the President's door again, "insults. I loathe you--all of you."
"What happened? What did Josh tell you?"
"Nothing!" she said raising her voice as her rage grew. "I was stopped by a reporter in the lobby who asked me to confirm a story. Imagine my surprise to find out my son is about to be the poster child for mental illness in Washington; that he was so mentally tortured after Rossilyn that he tried to kill himself and has been seeing a therapist ever since. To say I was shocked, doesn't cover my reaction. After all, Joshua never mentioned it and just last night you told me.... You swore to me that nothing was wrong. Let me clarify something for you: This classifies as something wrong!"
"Anna, it's not like that."
"Don't tell me what it is and isn't," she snapped as she looked one more time toward the President's door. "I'm leaving now and you can tell Mr. Bartlet that, with all due disrespect, he does not have my vote--and I will tell that and my reasons to anyone I please."
"No, Anna," Leo sighed. "Don't go like this. Hear me out."
"No, I don't think I will, and that's Mrs. Lyman to you," she said striding purposefully toward the door. "Goodbye, Mr. McGarry."
***************
Josh spent the day as planned in Washington and Baltimore. All the pieces fell into place. All the right eyes saw what they should. All the piece of evidence framing him as the White House lunatic had been delivered and read and his meeting with Stanley observed by the necessary eyes. Stanley wasn't pleased when Josh broke the news to him, but in the end, he had little choice.He retreated, finally, to his office by the early evening and watched convention coverage. He watched the speech alone with his door closed. He knew every line of the President's speech and was still awestruck at how the man could make the words have life of their own.
When it ended, Josh grabbed his jacket and backpack after flipping off the TV. The President's speech had blown the roof off the convention center. He could hear the assistants and secretary's applauding down the hallway as he made his way to the security desk. His work was over.
The staff would be returning in a few hours after all the post game wrap up was done in Miami. He wouldn't see them for several days, though. He was to go to Illinois then Arizona on Leo's behalf for the next week--a strategic political retreat. He would then be making a swing through California on some assignments that were needed to balance efforts the rest of the staff would be making on the east coast.
He arrived at the security desk near the north lobby and prepared to go home and pack.
"Mr. Lyman," the officer at the desk greeted him.
"Good night, Steve," Josh said as he turned to punch out.
"Uh, Mr. Lyman," he said again. "I just tried to call your office. You have a visitor."
Josh turned to see his mother sitting in a visitor's chair, looking at him with a pain in her eyes he had hoped to never see again.
*****************
When they finally hussled him into hte seure back room, the staff was gathered for the expected post-speech peptalk and thank you. They would be fanning out to the various news outlets momentarily to thrust the evening's success further along so that by morning, the polls would skyrocket, leaving Gov. Robert Ritchie looking like a speck of dust on the political landscape.
Bartlet survyed his troups. His euphoria was evident on their faces as well, though he noted Sam Seaborn seemed to be levitating less than his boss. The President accepted their applause as well and was able to silence them more easily than the masses still raging on the convention floor.
"Thank you," Bartlet said, raising his hands to instill some calm. "Thank you all so very much for you hardwork, your dedication and all the friends you talked into coming to this party."
They laughed, as he knew they would. The buzzing in his head and hands from the excitment was leveling off, like a fantasy fading slowly into the mists of imagination.
"I try to say it as often as I can, though I know that even then it is not often enough," he began. "We talk a lot about our team. but this is more than a team, much, much more than that. We are a band of brothers and sisters; we are a family. So I thank you all for being members of my family. I was just thinking as I walked in here how nights like this are like a dream. I wanted to quote you something, something from Shakespeare's Midsummer's Night Dream, except that I am so overcome with pride with all you have helped accomplish that I can't think of a single phrase outside of 'The lunatic, the lover and the poet.' That might in fact be appropriate. Look to your left and right. If you see someone who doesn't fit that description, tell Leo and he'll have the person reassigned. Perhaps I should have asked Toby and Sam to write me a few words to say here, but after those magnificent words they penned for me, I think they might have earned themselves a few moments rest. So, let me end where I began by offering you one more, simple yet sincere expression of my gratitude. Thank you all."
Following the final round of applause, the team disbursed to their assignments. Leo steered the President to the office down the hall. The speech had gone well, better than their high expectations even. Early polling numbers were nearly 10 agregate points higher than previously predicted. It was a good night and it gave Leo his first chance to smile in nearly 20 hours.
"Leo?" Bartlet asked, mentally scolding Abbey for taking the pack of cigarettes he had stashed in the drawer of the desk in the small room.
"Yes, sir?" Leo replied, tugging his attention back to the ground.
"Is something going on?"
"A lot," Leo said confidently. "What in particular? Abbey's with Rhonda Chase of the Miami Herald right now and yes, she took your cigarettes."
"I know she did," Bartlet replied, taking the one from one of his Secret Service Agents that he had arranged earlier. "I mean elsewhere. I overheard a conversation when CJ hussled me away from some reporters. Something about a burglary. Did an office get broken into?"
"Not here," Leo said. "It was in California."
"A Democratic Committee office?" Bartlet replied. "It didn't suddenly become 1972, did it?"
"We've taken steps so assure it hasn't," Leo answered, recalling Josh's similar allusion days earlier to the Watergate break in.
"What office?"
"It was a doctor's office," Leo said simply then nodded at the President comprehended. "I wouldn't concern yourself with it, sir. Bruno and Josh took care of it."
The President glared at Leo.
"It's fine, sir," Leo assured him. "Taken care of."
"Sam's not going to Cincinati?" Bartlet asked suddenly, changing topics before the less than pleasant thoughts ruined his adrenlin high and well-earned cigarette.
"No," Leo agreed.
"Why?"
"His mother is having surgery."
"They think it's breast cancer?" Bartlet asked solenmly.
"Yeah," Leo nodded. "His father told him this afternoon. That's why she didn't come."
"How's Sam holding up?"
"Good as can be expected," Leo said. "Knocked the kid for a loop, but he took it on the chin and stayed standing."
"Okay."
"We made some arrangements so he can be there when she has the surgery," Leo continued. "He's swapping schedules with Josh. Sam's going to California now."
"So Josh is going to Cincinati?" the President asked, a touch of acid in his tone.
"No," Leo replied.
"Why?"
"We need him to be elsewhere for a few days," Leo said.
"Where?" Bartlet inquired. "Leo, is this about what happened the other night? Now, I've met his mother and you're not her so I'm left to wonder why you feel the need to step in and..."
"Sir," Leo interupted feeling frazzled. "Can I ask what it is that he did that pissed you off so much? I'm really having a hard time getting my hands around this one."
"You are?" Bartlet mocked. "You mean what did he do other than the bi-weekly screw-ups out of his office that have allowed Ritchie's camp to pull almost even with me in the polls?"
"Frankly, yeah," Leo said firmly.
"I don't know," Bartlet admitted after a moment's pause. "Where is he? I didn't see him at all today or this evening and it looks like Donna is working for CJ now."
"CJ needed some senior level help," Leo informed the President. "Carol's down with a stomach thing from some seafood."
"You avoided my question," Bartlet insisted. "Where is Josh?"
He sounded like the Bartlet of old in regard to the Deputy Chief of Staff. Leo believed the President's current and recurrent ire with Josh was not a personal vendetta or even a loss of respect. He didn't know what it was for certain, but he knew the President had great respect and affection for the at times caustic political marksman Leo dubbed his lieutenant. The recent alienation between both of them had arisen more suddenly than the storm said to be brewing off the coast at that moment.
"He's back in Washington, sir," Leo replied. "For now."
"For now?" Bartlet snapped, his hackles up again. "Leo, what the hell is going on?"
*********************************8
Toby stared back at his colleagues, surveying their
expressions. They ranged from mildly curious (Ed) to furious yet
worried (CJ). He had called a select group of the staff together
to brief them on the matter occurring in Washington, on the off chance
one was hit with a question in their upcoming interviews.
"So, there's a thing happening," Toby said plainly. "You need to know in case you get asked, but it doesn't pertain to the campaign or our daily business."
"Then why would we be asked," Ed inquired.
"Because reporters are freaky like that," Sam replied. He was as curious as the rest of them as to the topic of this impromtu meeting.
"Yeah," Toby agreed. "There was a story two days ago in The New Republic and American National and one or two other papers...."
"Those aren't papers," Sam said. "They're ultra-rightwing, inflamatory propaganda vehicles that rail against the dangerous liberal moral code of the country while stretching their First Amendment rights to an almost fatal capacity."
"Thank you," Toby silenced him sarcastically. "None of us were aware of that since we're all such staunch subscribers. My point is that they've run a story recently suggesting that the White House has turned into the national loony bin--or something to that effect. The story was based upon alleged files leaked to them about someone being under psychiatric care."
"Please, no," CJ said shaking her head.
"Sorry, yes," Toby said. "There were rumors that it wasn't some shmoe just answering phones and that got the interest of the LA Times."
"Josh left last night, didn't he?" Sam asked. "We haven't seen him because he's not even in Miami, is he?"
"No," Toby said. "He went back to DC. He had a meeting with Dr. Stanley Keyworth. Apparently someone saw him. By itself it means nothing except that Dr. Keyworth's office was burglarized recently and patient files were compromised. There is convincing evidence that Dr. Keyworth has met with Josh on several occaisions in Washington--twice in the White House."
"Can we trust Dr. Keyworth?" CJ asked then answered her own question. "I suppose not since we're having this discussion."
"Actually, we can," Toby said, making momentary eye contact with Sam whose expression said he understood what was really happening. CJ, both knew, couldn't be told. She was too close to the press and needed margins of ignorance to protect her from being human. "But that doesn't matter any more. Josh got the question around six o'clock this evening. He answered it. The story tomorrow will reveal that he was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder following the events at Rosslyn, Virginia. Experts in the field of psychiatry are best equipt to deal with what that means, but for us it means he's Josh Lyman and he's a survivor and doing his job effectively and professionally and the administration saw no reason to make any changes regarding that."
The staff fell silent, each letting Toby's news settle. Some knew for certain of Dr. Keyworth's visit the Christmas following the shooting. Others heard rumors. Some were vaguely aware the shooting had an aftermath for him that lingered longer than the stitches had. None in the room knew of the diagnosis; they knew something had been wrong and that it had righted itself, but there had never been a label put on it.
"It's career suicide," Larry offered. "Isn't it?"
"No, killing the Majority Leader would be career suicide," CJ stated.
"We might be able to get more milage out of that," Sam offered. The fixed stares that followed forced him to shrug. "I just meant that... I'll shut up now."
"What does Leo say?" CJ asked.
"He thinks Josh is nuts," Toby replied. "But he's thought that for years so for us it's business as usual. We give Josh our support and seriously question the use of private, stolen files used in an effort to assault a man responsible for ushering in legislation like the Family Health and Wellness Act and three strong gun control measures credited with saving the lives of thousands of police officers and children."
Ed chuckled quietly but drew the attention of all in the room. He blushed slightly then provided an explanation.
"It's just... well, the President spoke about civic duty tonight," Ed said. "Josh has got to be the only person that.... Well, from what Toby said, his civic duty today was to go forth and talk about his mental breakdown."
"Josh told me about an hour ago that it went well," Toby said.
"He said that?" Sam asked.
"Actually, his exact words were," Toby paused to recall them then quoted. "'I'm good at this. My agent thinks I could win an Emmy if I catch the performance on tape.' Bruno examined what has happened and we both agree that this won't hurt us at all--or Josh. Not in the long run."
The staff was then dismissed, except CJ. Toby had one more assignment for her. After the interviews were done, he wanted her to break the news to Donna.
*************************
"Mr. President, that's not what he's doing," Leo insisted.
"Oh no?" Bartlet said. "This is his job? Leo, I'm not afraid of this. You once said I would lift houses off the ground. Now, I'm no physicist nor do I have delusions of grandeur, but what happened out there tonight was pretty damn close to that. We can let the truth be known. I've realized that. I did what thousands and thousands of Americans do every day; I needed to talk to someone and I sought the ear of a professional."
"I didn't say you were afraid," Leo replied. "But I remind you that you are not like thousands and thousands of Americans, Mr. President."
"Well, that's a ringing endorsement for me," Bartlet quipped.
"Sir," Leo began. "Your opponents would use this to crucify you and burn you off the ballot completely."
"And you and Deputy Do-Right think you've ended that possibility," Bartlet asked increduously. "I mean, he's done some stupid things, but this... And you, allowing it! This, Leo, this takes an exceptionally deluded person to...."
"Mr. President, I agree with him," Leo interupted. "So do Toby and Bruno."
"Why?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Why is he doing this?" Bartlet asked. "If you wanted to set up someone as a beard, you could have pawned it off on any number of people this would impact less. Why him?"
"Because it's true and it's believable," Leo responded, using Toby's arguement.
"You can do better than that," Bartlet noted. "Leo, this is not the kind of fall that is smooth and leaves no marks. This is one that stays with you; it leaves scars."
"He's got others so these will fit in just fine," Leo quipped.
"Leo."
"Because it's his job, Mr. President," Leo answered. "Jos was raised by a man who believed in fidelity, duty and integrity all meant the same thing: Do your job. Josh has never forgotten that. It serves him well, so when things like this happen, this is what he does. The Secret Service protects you from real bullets. The staff takes care of this kind."
Bartlet let the words hang on the air; the hum from the convention floor could still be heard echoing down the hallway. He looked at the Chief of Staff then stubbed out his cigarette.
"I have no use for martyrs," Bartlet said again. "This doesn't make up for all the mistakes. Is this some ploy to get back in my good graces by a grand gesture of falling on a sword? Does he think that this will please me?"
"I don't think he cares whether it pleases you or not," Leo said firmly. "It's not his motivation."
"Then what is?" Bartlet asked quickly. "I sure as hell can't figure that out. Why do this?"
"To get you re-elected, sir."
****************
Anna Lyman accompanied her son back to his apartment without saying a word. He did not ask her any questions during the short drive to Georgetown. He knew why she was there. He knew what he had to tell her. He sat in the chair opposite her place on the couch and stared at his hands for a moment, mustering the resolve to explain to her why he had not told her any of this part of his life previously.
"So, now you know," he started.
"Joshua..."
"Mom, it's not what you think," Josh replied with a sigh. "What you may have heard so far is mostly true, but it's over. The only reason it's out now is.... It's... it's business."
"I know," she said tightly.
"What?" he responded startled. "What do you mean?"
"I know the whole story," Anna said. "At least, everything about you. I spoke to Toby Ziegler earlier this evening. He explained some things."
"What did he say?"
"That you stepped in front of a political bullet and that it wouldn't really hurt you and that you knew what you were doing," Anna answered. "I don't understand what most of that means, but I believe him."
Josh nodded. He wasn't sure what Toby had told her for specifics, but he was grateful regardless. The more radical right-wing media outlets were running the picture of himself meeting with trauma psychologist Dr. Stanley Keyworth the previous day. No one was asking any more questions about why the doctor was brought into the White House several times--once at night even--and why his telephone records showed calls to the White House. Stanley was not pleased after learning his urgent meeting with Josh had been a setup to get caught on film, but that did not stop him from acting in his official capacity when he noted Josh was not entirely at ease mentally. If he found the discussion about the incident in Miami confusing, that was to be expected because Josh himself didn't understand it.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Josh apologized.
"You can make it up to me," his mother offered.
"How?"
"Never do it again," she said in a shakey fashion. "And feed an old woman, Joshua. You must know every place in this town open this late that delivers. I haven't eaten since breakfast."
*****************
The staff fanned out across the country on various endeavors. To cover Sam's load, Josh took a trip to New York then went on to Boston where he expected meet Toby. They were to go to Manchester, New Hampshire to talk with organizers then move on to Vermont to meet with the governor and complete the swing through New England. However, nothing being equal or on-course, Toby was delayed in Rhode Island. What Josh found instead in Boston, was Donna.
He had not expected to see her and shuddered--almost visibly--when he did. They had avoided talking directly to each other in the time following that night in Miami--at least, he had. It had been easy, too. She had remained in Miami with much of the staff while he took off for Illinois as planned. He then was sent on several short trips that kept him out of Washington. Their contact had been only in brief emails requesting work related information and messages left on voicemail. Outside the office block in Boston was the first time he had set eyes on her since departing her room in Florida.
The conversation was stiled and resulted in her offering to drive from Boston to Manchester. They ended up leaving the port city later than expected due to the lateness of Josh's meeting; she wasn't pleased to learn there was a storm system forecasted for the upper parts of New England. Her displeasure deepened when he requested that she drive so that he could read some correspondance and memos to get a jump on the next day's work load.
She agreed for she had no other choice. She didn't favor a cold, quiet drive into the country, but accepted it all the same. She followed the direction she gave him as best she could, but upon looking at the clock and the ever-darkening skies, she realized that they were off track.
"Josh," she said, pulling over to the side of a secondary road. "We're lost."
"Can't be," he said, looking up for the first time in more than two hours.
"We are," she said. "We should be there by now and we're not. It's getting dark and the wind is blowing and... Great. Now it's starting to pour."
"Donna," Josh remarked as he looked out the windows. "This is not where we want to be!"
"No kidding," she mocked.
"Where the hell are we?"
"That's my point," she said. "I don't know."
He questioned her on whether she had followed the directions. After several moments of shouting, she traced the route for him on the map with her finger. It was then that the exit she believe she took fell off the map. It wasn't a pen mark after all, but a breadcrumb. They hastily switched seats, getting wet in downpour as they did so. Josh backtracked several miles then turned around again.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Finding a place to sleep."
"In the forest?" she asked. "You were never a boyscout."
"We're in Vermont," he said firmly.
"We're lost."
"No, we're just not where we should be," he said. "We're not going to make it to Manchester in this."
They continued driving in silence for another half hour. Finally, Josh whipped the car around several hairpin turns, arriving at a nearly invisible turn off that yielded a dirt road leading to a rustic hideaway in the Green Mountains. As they slowed down, Josh explained they had ended up in the Mad River Valley, and area he knew. The rain that had followed them from Boston had turned into half-dollar droplets and nearly obscured the building they arrived at.
"Are they open?" Donna asked, spying only dim lights in the small cabin with the battered wooden sign announcing it was the OFFICE.
"They never close," he assured her and climbed out of the car.
Donna waited in the car alone for several moments. Rationalizing that Josh might forget to get her a room if she wasn't there, Donna followed to discover Josh speaking with a desk clerk.
"I just talked with Mrs. Deavers," the young woman said as Donna entered.
"You mean Elise," Josh corrected the sprite of a clerk.
"Yes. Sorry," she apologized. "She said I am to give you the royal treatment. The only thing is…um…I just rented out a cabin this afternoon. That means there is only one vacant tonight. Is that all right with you?"
"One?" Donna asked, her voice rising slightly. "You only have one left?"
"I'm sorry ma'am," the clerk apologized again. "We're not normally this busy in the middle of the week. Thankfully, it's been a good summer. However, this cabin is a double. It has double beds, a private bath and a kitchenette."
Beds?" she sighed in relief. "Yes. It certainly helps. What time is breakfast?"
"Tomorrow is Friday so we only do brunch," the clerk informed Donna as she pulled up the information on the computer screen. "That is served at 10:30."
Josh turned toward Donna. "We've got the governor at nine, don't we?"
"Yes," she said as the thunder rumbled. "I'm guessing there isn't a coffee shop around the corner. What are we going to do for breakfast? Go out into the forest and forge for berries?
"You could grab a few things out of the kitchen," the clerk offered. "Mrs. Deavers said the royal treatment for Mr. Lyman. Would that help?"
"Yes, it would, thank you," Donna replied then turned to Josh. "Pay for the room while I go get food, okay?"
"Sure," he replied as he pulled out his wallet. "You okay with this?"
"I have a choice?" she snipped.
"No, but I thought I'd ask," he retorted and slapped the credit card on the desk. "We could try and make it to Montpelier tonight. It would be slow going, but if you'd feel better…."
"Mr. Lyman," the clerk interrupted, "I wouldn't try it. This is called the Mad River Valley for several reasons - one of them being the crazy weather that we're experiencing. It's dangerous to go over the mountain in weather like this."
"Well, I guess we're staying," Donna said as a streak of lightning raced across the mountain sky.
"At least the power's still on," Josh shrugged. Suddenly, a loud pop occurred followed by black.
"I stand corrected," he said.
"Miss?" the clerk said as she flicked on a battery-powered lantern to illuminate the room. "I'll show you to the kitchen. We can take care of the bill tomorrow."
The clerk handed Josh a flashlight as he took the keys from Donna. "I'll be in the car."
Donna and the clerk began to head towards the kitchen when the clerk stopped. "Mr. Lyman, the cabin is the last on one the left – about half a mile down the lane. It's number 17."
Josh nodded his understanding and bolted for the car. Donna carefully maneuvered her way towards the kitchen with the clerk. She gathered the food and ran towards the running vehicle. Josh exited the car and helped her load the groceries into the trunk. They made the way down the long road in silence.
Josh pulled into the parking spot at Cabin 17. He helped Donna unload the groceries and luggage onto the porch. He flipped on the flashlight and opened the door. Donna took the lantern that the clerk had given her and proceeded to place candles around the cabin.
"I'm gonna go change," Donna said as she made her way to the bathroom.
"Sure, " Josh said, squinting in the direction of her voice.
Josh lit several of the candles Donna had placed around the fireplace. As he did so, he let the thoughts he kept pushing away since he departed Miami seep to the front of his mind. They had not see each other the week following the President's speech--communicating through email and phone messages as he was sent into strategic exile by Leo by traveling to Chicago while the President was in Cincinati. Seeing her arrive in Boston unexpectedly drew opposing feelings in him. He was glad to see her and didn't think he could spend a single moment with her in private. But they had managed. The conversations were strained and uncomfortable for both, he knew. Now, this arrangement for the evening...
Regret. It was a feeling he knew better than any other. He knew if life as he knew it with Donna, that safe if at times confusing dance he did with Donna in their working lives, was over.
"I was hungry so I got stuff for sandwiches, too," Donna stated, breaking Josh's thought. She was clad in a tank and pajama bottoms and her hair was twisted up in a towel.
"Fine with me," he replied, trying not looking at her. He grabbed his bag and headed for the bathroom. "I'm drenched. Would you see if my cell works and tell Leo what's going on?"
Donna reached for the phone, stealing a quick glance at his retreating figure. "Sure."
"We have to be out of her by 7:00 tomorrow," Josh said as he exited the bathroom wearing boxers and a t-shirt. "Usually, I wake up without an alarm, but that's normally because Leo is paging or calling. You wouldn't happen to have a travel alarm clock in your bag would you?"
"Yeah," she replied quickly. "It's in my red bag. I couldn't get through to Leo but I left a message with Bonnie to tell him what's going on. At least, I think I did. The reception is bad; we got cut off and I think your battery is low."
"So…no phone, no lights and no television," he said. "This'll be fun."
"Yeah," she yelped as a loud clap of thunder, followed by a quick lightning strike hit somewhere outside the cabin.
"Hey, it's okay," Josh assured her. "It's only a storm. The thunder sounds louder simply because of where we are in the valley."
"I don't care," Donna shot back as she began to prepare the sandwiches. "I'd prefer never having storms. Turkey all right?"
"Fine," he answered. "Are you all right?"
"Sure," she said shortly as she slapped the sandwiches together.
Josh looked at her tense expression and felt a new wave of guilt. He found himself apologizing.
"I'm sorry things happened," Josh said sincerely. "I didn't plan on it."
"Well, if you had paid attention to the road…"
"I wasn't the one driving," Josh shot back. "You offered. I was reading."
"And if we had left when I wanted to," Donna continued, "we'd have missed the storm entirely."
Josh glared at her. "And if you'd followed the directions instead of a bread crumb from your meal, we'd be at the hotel in New Hampshire not in the middle of the woods in Vermont."
"Who could follow those directions?"
"I could."
"Then you should have driven," Donna said.
"I was a little busy catching up on the three thousand things I missed while out of the office," Josh began. "It's a good thing I did some of the work in the car because right now reading is next to impossible."
"Dinner's served," Donna replied as she flung Josh his plate. The plate went sailing across the table then slid into the wall. The sandwich slid down the wall and rested in a gooey pile on the floor, along with the shards of plate.
Josh looked at his dinner for a moment and then turned to Donna.
"So…turkeys can fly?" he remarked.
In the silence that followed, Donna could not keep her face straight. The stress was too much. She found herself breaking into chuckles.
"Guess the President missed this one in his annual pardon," Donna said lightly.
"Don't tell the turkey lobby," Josh added. "They'd send representatives to the White House and Leo would make me meet with them on Big Block of Cheese Day."
"If they got unruly, the Secret Service agents could get in some target practice," Donna smiled. "They could win a turkey dinner if they got one.".
"GAO might want to catalogue it and somehow the GOP would find a way to paint us as being anti-foul," Josh sighed. "I can see it now, Governor Rob Ritchie standing in a field surrounded by turkeys, quoting that great American statesman Oliver Franklin, about how they should be a national symbol."
Donna buried her face in her hands and laughed quitely for a moment.
"I miss this," Josh sighed.
"Miss what?"
"This," he replied. "You know, not being…afraid to talk to each other. I miss it."
"I've missed it, too," she admitted.
Josh sat down at the table. "Can we…be us again? Or is that asking too much? If it is, I understand."
"You mean the tiptoeing around each other isn't appealing to you?" Donna asked, joining him at the table.
"I'm real good at tiptoeing, if you hadn't noticed," Josh remarked as he grabbed half of Donna's sandwich. "Some people even think I enjoy being the center of attention."
"No…" Donna gasped, feigning shock at his revelation. "Did I say you could take half my sandwich?"
"Do you think I care?" Josh said, taking a bite. "I'm just following your lead."
They finished eating in silence, but it was not as cold of a quiet as it had been previously. Josh eventually rose from his chair and headed for the sleeping area.
"Which one of these do you want?" he asked sitting on the double bed to the left. "This one of the one closer to the window?"
"That one," she responded, pointing to the one Josh was sitting on.
"Okay," he yawned, looking at his watch in the flicker of the candlelight. "It's not even 10pm. How can I possibly be tired?"
Lightning raced across the valley, illuminating the cabin. Josh cast his eyes toward the ceiling.
"If that wind gets any stronger it'll take the roof off," he observed.
"Don't say that," Donna said as she moved toward her bed.
"I'm kidding," he relented. "These cabins are fifty years old at least. The roof is actually slate so it's not going anywhere."
"Fifty?" Donna asked as she took the towel off her head and pulled down the covers. "How do you know this place?"
"My father did some work for Elise's first husband and the result was they bought this place," Josh replied moving to his bed. "We came up here once in a while when I was a kid so Dad could take care of some legal things for Elise."
"Did you enjoy it up here?"
"Depended upon the time of the year," Josh began crawling in bed. "My mother hated coming here in the spring. Mud season, they call it. And when my mother wasn't happy.... well, a fun time could be had by no one."
"Stop that," Donna scolded. "Your mother's a saint and one of the sweetest people I've ever met."
"Yeah," Josh agreed. "I guess it was fun here. There wasn't much to do, but it was the only time I got to see my Dad just about around the clock so it was great."
"How old were you when you came here?" Donna asked, attempting to sound nonchalant. However, Josh read the evasion in her question.
"It was after the fire," he replied in a bored tone. "I was the only one by then. We should get some sleep. It's been a long… uh… summer."
"Yeah," she sighed, crawling in her bed and turning off the lantern. "Night."
An hour passed and the storm grew in intensity. The shrieking of the wind stirred Donna out of her slumber. She tried to not to focus on the noise and found this easy as the rains began in earnest outside and inside. Donna suddenly began to be pelted with raindrops from the leaking roof. She huffed, turned on the flashlight, threw the covers off the bed and shuffled the short distance to Josh's bed.
"Josh…" Donna said as she tapped his shoulder.
The reply, something sounding like a curse, came as a muffled, sleepy groan.
"I want to get in your bed," she said simply.
"Uh huh," he replied, and then sat straight up a second later as the words and voice registered in his sleep-clouded brain. "I'm sorry?"
"The roof is leaking on my bed," she explained. "It's soaked and I can't sleep in it. So I need your bed."
"Your hair is wet," Josh observed.
"They don't just give those Fulbright's away, do they?" Donna deadpanned. "I said the roof is leaking over my bed."
"Well, you chose it," he remarked. "So I guess it's still raining?"
"Yes."
"You could sleep on the floor," he suggested.
"Or you could act like a gentleman and sleep on the floor," she replied.
"I don't want to sleep on the floor," he said.
"And I do?"
"You might," he said.
"Josh," Donna scowled. "Stop. This isn't funny."
"I suppose not," he smirked.
"Move over," Donna ordered as she pulled back the covers and started to claim a spot for herself on the mattress.
"Hey!"
"I won't bite," she said and claimed a small spot, extremely close to the edge.
Josh observed her in the scarce light the raging storm. She was shivering; her hair was damp around her face. Rather than argue further, he relented.
"You're gonna fall out of the bed if you sleep on the edge like that," Josh commented. "I promise that I won't… uh… invade your space."
"Okay," Donna agreed moving away from the edge slightly. "Same goes for me."
"Good," he nodded and prepared to lay down, but then stopped and propped himself up on his elbow. "Wait. What? What do you mean by same goes for you?"
"I meant that I won't invade your space either," Donna responded. "I know what you meant and I wanted to let you know that you don't need to worry about me... you know.... You're safe."
"I'm really not worried about it," Josh said.
"You're not?" she asked. "I mean, the last time I was.... I was too forward and I... you know."
"What?" he remarked increduously. "You think... You cannot be serious. Donna, that was… not your fault, okay?"
"Of course it was!" Donna said. The total silence between about that night in Miami had finally been broken. Nothing could stop her. "Josh, I seduced you. You came in to tell me that everything was okay after what I said to the President and the next thing you know… I... I used my feminine charms and seduced you into my bed."
"Your feminine charms?" he smirked with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell are those?"
"You know what they are," she offered. "You couldn't resist me; I hooked you and reeled you in."
"You think you seduced me?" Josh laughed.
"Hey!" Donna said, smacking Josh on his arm. "I seduced you."
"Oh, you know it. Okay. Sure. Whatever, Donna."
"Something happened between us that night," she said unnecessarily.
"I'm not saying nothing happened," he replied. "I'm just saying you weren't the one who did anything. It wasn't you. That's what I'm saying."
"You think you seduced me?" Donna chortled. "Right."
"Oh God, we aren't actually arguing about this are we?" Josh said amazed. "I thought we'd mutally argeed..."
"We never spoke about it."
"Right, and by mutual silence, we were agreeing that we'd never speak of it," Josh said.
"Well, obviously we need to talk about it if only to correct your interpretation of the events," Donna explained. "So, I think we should set the record straight."
"Donna," Josh said in a lowered voice as he leaned toward her. "Look, what happened…happened. It shouldn't have – and I'm sorry. I've been wracking my brain to figure out how to... fix things and.... I don't know what to do."
"Well, you can start by giving me the credit I deserve," Donna said simply.
"What are you...."
"I seduced you," she said firmly. "And why are you sorry? What actually was wrong? Look, we slept together."
"I recall," he replied quietly in a sullen tone. "It was wrong."
"Why?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Why was it wrong?" Donna asked. "I seduced you, and--not to toot my own horn here--but I think you enjoyed it."
"That's not the point," he seethed in an exapserated voice. "Donna, we work together. I'm your boss."
"Not that night," Donna explained. "You were more like my prisoner, my hostage."
"I am your boss," Josh argued. "Hostage? What the hell..."
I wouldn't seduce my boss," she asserted.
"Oh god, can we drop this?" Josh beseeched.
"No," she said. "Josh, stop feeling guilty over something that wasn't your fault. It wasn't wrong. You didn't force me to do anything, and I don't think I forced you--though I gotta say, you didn't stand much of a chance."
"And you call me conceited..."
"No, I call you arrogant," she corrected him.
"Donna, you know all the reasons that what happened shouldn't have," Josh argued. "You know what kind of problems it could create – has created already. Look at how we've been avoiding each other recently. Miami was a mistake--regardless of who seduced whom--and it was me seducing you, for the record.."
"Okay, the record is wrong," Donna offered. "And the fact remains that what happened between us was not. Was anybody aware of what… transpired? Other than you being afraid to talk to me for a the last week, nothing changed."
"Everything changed," Josh said.
"No, you just think it did," Donna said. "Which is wrong. Just like your perception of who seduced who."
"Whom," Josh corrected.
"Yeah, and it was me," she retorted.
"It was wrong, Donna," Josh repeated. "You were upset for what you said at that meeting. I was in a position where I should have… have... It was wrong. Okay. That's that. Nothing else matters."
"I've been upset plenty of times and you never…" she sighed. "Josh, this thing was bound to happen anyway."
"I'm sorry?"
"It was inevitable," Donna clarified. "We were on a collision course."
"No," he said. "Donna, my life is about my work. Work being the magic word there. I don't…relationships never work because my job always, always, always comes first. I cost Amy her job because of my line of work. That's why it's more important to me than anything else."
"And work matters to me as well," Donna affirmed. "But I'm not looking for any type of relationship here."
"You're…you're not?" Josh asked, stunned to be hearing those words.
"No," she scoffed. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"I don't know," he said shaking his head. "Women don't usually say that. So…what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that this is just an…extension of our working relationship," Donna smiled.
"Sex on the road is part of your job description?" Josh asked. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's illegal."
"What I'm saying is…in the office is in the office and out of the office is…"
"You mean," Josh concluded, "you're suggesting that, and if I'm getting this wrong I apologize, but you're suggesting that we have a non-relationship, casual sex thing when the time permits, no obligations or commitment?"
"Exactly," Donna nodded in agreement.
"You've got to be kidding," Josh said bewildered. "Women do not suggest this kind of thing."
"I'm a 21st century kind of gal, Josh," Donna announced proudly.
"This isn't happening."
"Why?"
"Because this kind of thing never happens to anyone, least of all me," Josh explained. "I mean, it's every man's dream come true, so therefore it'll never work."
"Never know until you try," Donna suggested.
"I didn't say I wasn't interested," he corrected her. "I'm a politician--a Democrat at that. Imminent failure is not always an effective deterrent."
"Well, I'm an optimist," she declared. "This'll work."
"No," Josh sighed laying back down. "This is crazy! We're not doing this. It won't work."
"Never thought you to give up so easily," Donna observed.
"We are in the middle of a Presidential campaign," Josh reminded her. "I'm not doing anything to further weaken our chances. I've done enough already. I just had my private life paraded out for everyone to read and dissect. The last thing I need is to start that news cycle from hell over again about an affair with my assistant on the government's dime."
"I'm not charging you and the government has to pay for us when we travel anyway so it's not a fraud issue," Donna offered.
"You can't be serious," Josh groaned. "This is…it's flirting with disaster somehow. I mean, even if it wasn't, Leo would kill me when he found out. And I don't mean figuratively. I mean literally. He'll haul me into his office and strangle me with his bare hands then beat my head in with a book on ethics."
"Who says Leo has to find out?" she countered. "People know I'm in and out of your room at all hours. Hell, half of Washington thinks we're already sleeping together."
"Donna, that is Washington," Josh declared. "What people think is gossip; what they know can be a weapon. This could… I don't know how, but what if it hurts the administration somehow? I've already endured the President's ire because of personal… Look, another scandal will cripple us permanently."
"So I'll take the fall then."
"No," he disagreed. "For something like this, I take it. When someone has to take a bullet, you go for the highest one you can get. In this case, that's me and that's not the point. We're not going to do this."
"Your career is more important," Donna insisted. "If…it happens – which I know it won't – but on the off chance that is does, it should be me. I can be reassigned or fired."
"You're missing the point."
"Which is?"
"It's not going to go anywhere because we can't do this," Josh said and then paused for a minute.
"You can't have a personal life because you work in politics?" Donna asked. "Josh, don't you think you're over estimating your importance in the grand scheme of things?"
Josh paused to consider her question. Then he rubbed his hands over his face in disbelief.
"This is insane," he said. "This is the craziest thing I've ever contemplated, and this is… you know, me so that's saying a lot."
"Live a little, Josh."
He remained quiet for a moment. Donna's words brought those of another back to his mind: SJ on the plane back from Miami. She had told him roughly the same thing. He contemplated things for a few moments.
"What the hell," he shrugged.
"Really?"
"I guess," Josh said.
Josh and Donna lay there in there respective spaces, staring at the ceiling. They had just agreed to something that neither one of them had ever thought would be happen.
"So…" Donna started.
"So," he sighed.
"What now?"
"How do I know?" Josh smirked. "Apparently, you're the one in charge of seduction."
************
The twittering of the birds in the early morning light woke Josh from his sleep. He always hated being woken up by them. There was just enough light streaming through the blinds for Josh to focus on his watch, which read 6:04 am. He glanced down at his bed companion. Donna was peacefully sleeping, cuddled up against his chest. Josh rubbed his hand over his face. He knew that Miami shouldn't have happened, and that last night certainly shouldn't have. Donna was indeed an attractive woman, and both knew exactly where to draw the line between profession and personal. In the manner of a few months, that line had definitely been blurred. Josh just didn't know how to fix it.
He gingerly sat up and lifted Donna off him. He set her back down on the bed, grabbed his boxers and picked out his clothes from his bag. He glanced at Donna one last time. Josh shook his head and headed for the shower.
Half an hour later, Josh exited the bathroom and noticed that something was different. He smelled an aroma that he hadn't smelled in quite sometime. He put on his dress shirt and ran the towel through his still-damp hair.
Josh spied his now awake assistant standing in front of the stove. She was clad in only a t-shirt.
"Donna!"
"What?!"
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Good morning," she chirped. "I'm cooking breakfast."
"Breakfast?"
"That's the meal which is normally prepared in the morning light," Donna smirked.
"We don't have time," Josh sighed as he began buttoning his shirt. "Donna, the governor, 9 am meeting. One hour and a half from now – and a 45-minute drive to get there. Any of that sound familiar?"
"Yes," she said with a firm nod as she placed a plate on the table.
"Okay," he said mystified. "Did any of this factor into your decision to…are you making scrambled eggs?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "And there's toast and coffee."
"Okay, are you awake?"
Donna placed another plate on the table. "Very much so."
"So you understand what I just said about this morning and the schedule?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"And you're making toast anyway?"
"Actually the toast is done," she smiled. "I'm on eggs right now."
Josh glared at her. "Have you lost your mind?"
"Don't shout," Donna said casually.
"Don't shout!" he repeated. "Donna, the governor, 9 am meeting. Am I repeating myself at all in your recollection?"
"Josh…" Donna began.
"See, this is why that," he seethed as he looked at the bed and began pacing, "was a bad idea. You just…"
"Josh," she tried again.
"I've heard of…" Josh sighed. "I mean, not really, but I suppose it could happen, but really, there's no reason you should have lost all touch with reality and yet I am left to wonder when…"
"Josh!"
"What?"
"I called to confirm our appointment," she said picking up his cell phone. "The governor got called into an emergency meeting about flooding in the northern part of the state. Your meeting is at 11."
"Eleven?" Josh asked, looking at his watch.
"Yes."
"Oh," he shrugged then sat at the table. "So there's time for breakfast?"
Donna looked at the still perplexed look on Josh's face and shook her head.
"What's funny?" he asked.
"In all the years I've worked for you, has there ever been a time when I let you be late to a meeting?" she asked.
"In all the years you've worked for me, have you ever had to juggle and rearrange my schedule after…" Josh said, looking over at the rumpled sheets on the bed.
"That's different," Donna answered. "We're not working."
"What's that?"
"Working?" Donna turned to him. "I thought you knew what working was, Josh."
"Yeah," he nodded quickly. "We're working."
Donna scooped the eggs from the pan and placed them on the plates. "No, we're not right now."
"We're not?" he asked.
"No."
"What are we doing?"
Donna filled her own plate then sat across from him at the table. "We're eating breakfast."
"Breakfast?" Josh asked, still not comprehending the events of the past few minutes.
"Do I have to explain what that is again?" she smirked.
"Are we going to work at all today?"
"Of course," Donna said simply.
"When will that begin?" Josh asked.
"After breakfast or whenever you put your tie on," Donna replied. "See, you don't have your tie on right now and that's how I associate with us working. You have no tie on and I…well, I'm not appropriately dressed yet."
"Are you wearing my shirt?" Josh asked, noticing a navy polo shirt adorning Donna's slender frame.
"Yeah," she nodded, plucking at the collar. "It was the closest article of clothing near my side of the bed. Now, eat your eggs."
"Um," Josh began as he picked up his fork. "Are there rules for conversation?"
"Such as?"
"Well, if I discuss work, doesn't that mean I'm working?"
Donna took a sip of coffee. "Huh. Interesting. No."
"Because I don't have a tie on," Josh surmised.
"Partly," she replied. "But right now it's mostly because I'm not dressed in my work clothes."
"So," Josh concluded, " whenever I don't wear a tie and you're wearing my clothes, we're not working."
"Precisely," Donna agreed.
"What if you're in my work clothes – such as wearing my tie?"
"I'd look good in your tie," Donna declared.
"Is that a threat or a compliment?"
"Take your pick," she grinned. "How are the eggs?"
""Fine," Josh said taking a bite. "And can I just say you are setting a dangerous precedent."
"Am I?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Not that I mind. Anytime we're…not working…I think it's good practice that you cook me breakfast. I approve."
"Don't get used to it," she replied. "So you're…warming up to the idea…us…not working?"
"I…I…" he stammered. "Can we not talk about that? I'm still…it's…Nice weather, huh?"
"Joshua," Donna chided.
Josh set his utensil down on the table. "Donna, all the justification in the world won't change the fact that some part of me cannot…grasp, accept…I don't know, fathom this thing."
"And I keep telling you it's no big deal," she countered.
"Yeah, about that. Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Absolutely?" Josh parroted. "That's a quick answer."
"Josh," Donna sighed. "When we work, you are the Deputy Chief of Staff and I'm your assistant. When we're not working, we're two people in a non-committal, non-relationship thing."
Josh stared at her in amazement. "This is really…nothing to you? It's not a thing, in anyway, at all?"
"No, not at all," she scoffed. "I'm not looking for anything here."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"I guess," he shrugged.
"Finish your eggs," Donna commanded. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Thanks," Josh said. "For…breakfast."
"What? I don't get thanks for…" she winked.
"It would be too much like commitment," he replied. "You don't thank someone for casual sex."
*****************
Sam solemnly entered the halls of the White House. Normally excited to return to work after a promising campaign stop, Sam couldn't force a small smile as the assistants and other workers welcomed him back; it had been a rough week for him Finding out the news about his mother had shaken him, but seeing her in the hospital had nearly broken him. However, as the hours following the surger went, Sam learned of his mother's incredible strength in battling this disease. Carolyn Seaborn had weathered the storm of her husband's infidelity and Sam believed that there was a lot of fight left in her.
He was on his way to his towards the Operations bullpen, when a voice stopped him.
"Samuel, my man," CJ said.
"How did you know it was me?" Sam asked as he entered her office. "You didn't even look up from your laptop."
"Scary, huh?" she smirked.
"Among other things," he sighed as he dropped his carry-on bag on the floor and deposited his frame on her couch.
CJ finished typing the line and turned to Sam. "I heard you speaking with Larry just outside my office. But it's good to know that I still have that kind of power over you. Hey, how was California?"
Sam rotated his neck and tried to rub the kinks of a six-hour flight out of it. "It was good. There was more turn out than I expected. We may still have an outside chance of losing California, though."
"That's predictable," she replied, snapping the laptop closed. "But that's not why I asked."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," CJ answered. "I wanted to know how your mom was doing."
Sam's head dropped slightly. "She's…better. I was able to get there before she went into surgery. The doctors are optimistic that they were able to get most of the tumor. She will have to have some radiation and possibly a low dose of chemotherapy – but that's only for a few weeks. Mom's fretting about losing her hair, which is funny, because I never pegged her to be superficial."
"She can get a nice wig," CJ offered. "Nobody would know that it's not her real hair. Your mom's big in the art industry isn't she?"
"She's on the board of an art museum," Sam replied with a small smile. "She's got a real eye for art."
"Then why is it that you have horrible art in your apartment?" CJ grinned, trying to lighten his mood.
"Just goes to show that the apple does fall far from the tree," Sam sighed. "Look, Kennison said that if we throw our support toward McKinley, then we've got a better chance."
"Sam," CJ soothed. "You don't have to talk shop right now."
"And why is that?" Sam scoffed. "This is where I work; I'm supposed to talk shop."
"Because we're not machines, Sam," CJ snapped. "I know what you're going through. My father doesn't remember what month of the year it is from time to time. I got a phone call from him two nights ago asking me why I wasn't at the Inaugural Ball."
"CJ," Sam whispered as he moved from the couch to the chair. "I'm sorry…I had totally forgotten."
"He…he's a brilliant man," CJ continued, the obvious hurt displayed in her tone. "And to watch him deteriorate like that is…"
"I understand," Sam agreed. "We always think our parents are superheroes; that nothing can happen to them. Then we wake up to the reality that they are, in fact, human. My father had a mistress for 28 years. And now my mother has cancer. It makes other things that we fret over on a daily basis seem inconsequential."
"It seems like we can never catch a break," CJ replied.
"Yeah," Sam concurred. "Listen, I've got to go thank Josh for allowing me to take his California trip."
"He's not back yet."
"He's not? Vermont wasn't supposed to take that long. Did something go wrong?"
"No," CJ said. "Well, yes. The weather. Flooding delayed things with both governors. Then he and Donna got lost on the road; something about breadcrumbs. Anyway, they're with Toby now and will be flying back shortly."
"Oh," Sam replied as he rose from the chair. "Wait. Donna went with him?"
"She met him in Boston," CJ answered as she reopened her laptop.
"Why?"
"I don't know, Sam," CJ answered, "Maybe because she's his assistant."
"He told me that Donna wasn't going on the California trip and that she wouldn't be going on the New England trip," Sam said. "He seemed kind of.. adamant that she wouldn't."
"Things change," CJ said. "What's the problem? They're both adults and with Toby there to chaperon, I'm sure they ate their vegetables and did all their homework."
"It's just that...," Sam sighed then stopped. "Toby was there?"
"Okay, I gotta ask you this, Sam," CJ began. "What is it with your fascination with Josh and Donna? You've been acting like a third wheel a lot. Stop it. You have more important things to worry about that the Deputy Chief of Staff and his assistant."
"CJ, you don't understand," Sam said, picking up his bags.
"No kidding," she responded. "Should I?"
"No," he shook his head then turned toward the door.
"I've gotta see Leo."
Up next: Chapter 22