Title: Envy
Summary: Donna - 4th in the 'Seven deadly sins'-series
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, I don't get paid for this. The names for the side-characters are just taken from the wind, they're not supposed to refer to anyone. Don't sue me.
Seven deadly sins - Envy
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It pointless to desire somebody else's own,
because in a way, it's already yours.
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"Blue or red?"
"What?"
I stared at him from the doorway. For God's sake, I've been talking for five minutes, at least, and has he been listening to a word I've said? No-ooo, of course not. Josh Lyman, the king of philosophy, has more important things to think about, like the color of his desk, which he was staring with a surprisingly high amount of concentration as I first walked in. I took a deep breath. I'm not going to strangle him, I am not.
"I said," I repeated as slowly as possible, so even this dumb-ass would understand, "which napkins, blue or red?"
"For what?"
I gave a desperate moan. "Josh!" He honestly didn't have the faintest idea of what I was talking about. "The lunch! President's lunch! Tomorrow, remember?"
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that." I stood there silent for awhile, and, when he didn't say anything, I was ready to scream. "Well?"
"Well what?" he asked with an innocent look on his face. I'm gonna lose my mind with him, I really am. I waved the two sample napkins in the air. Finally, he realized. "Oh... um... Aren't they both a bit... partial?" What? "I mean, they are both colors of the... um... UK flag." What?!
"They're napkins, Josh! No one's going to search for hidden agendas from napkins!" I yelped. OK, now he's starting to piss me off.
"Well, what about something neutral like white?" he tried to recommend. He's doing this on purpose, he is, I know he is.
"I don't have white napkins," I whined.
"Well, what do you want me to say then?"
"I just wanted your opinion!"
"On napkins?"
"Yes! You said you would help me!"
"I was lying."
"But, Josh..."
He threw his hands in the air. "Donna, I don't know a single little thing about napkins or plates or... or matching food!" he cried out irritably. "I know I promised to help you, but can't we do this later? I have work to do, you know!"
"No you don't. I'm your assistant, remember?"
He grunted and looked like he was ready to hit his head against the wall. A satisfied smile rose on my face. The roles change fast. I always get the kicks from proving him he's wrong. Hasn't he learned by now that I can't be fooled so easily? Obviously not.
"Just go away, Donna," he moaned with a desperate tone. I smiled sweetly at him.
"But I can't go yet, there's still the tablecloth to pick up and the..."
"Out!"
I grinned and clicked my heels together. He gave me a look that said he didn't quite like that. Annoy me and thou shall be annoyed, rule number one. I left satisfied with myself.
But there's still the problem with the napkins to solve.
***
I don't know how they do this.
How do they do this for a living? I just can't understand, because I'm going nuts here. All respect and seven hail Marys to caterers, because I just can't do this without losing my mind!
How in earth should I know what kind of food would they'd prefer?
I glanced at the clock and sighed. I've been here for an hour, just sitting at my desk and ripping my hair apart. I hate food. I hate napkins. I hate lunches. OK, I've got most of the food ready and ordered days ago, but now they called and said that there's something wrong with the freaking order. How can there be anything wrong with an order, it's simple, it's only letter written on a piece of paper, simple and clear. God, I hate food. And seating arrangements. I hate food and seating arrangements. Can you believe that they're bringing their families, their whole families? I mean, what's the point in that? Now I have to decide whether it's more appropriate for the President to sit next to UK's ambassadors wife or his 19 years-old son, which I couldn't care less, and probably Mr. President wouldn't either, but apparently there's some kind of a 'code'.
The thing is that tomorrow the UK's and Irelands ambassadors to USA are coming to lunch, with their families as I mentioned, to socialize and, perhaps somewhere in the middle, casually, to talk about Northern-Ireland. A bit of diplomacy and courtesy, nothing more to it, since their only been ambassadors for awhile. The thing is that I have to organize the lunch. The President himself told me to, apparently he thought it would be a good idea. He likes these kind of... gestures, if you can call it that.
But, God, do I hate seating arrangements.
I'd made these little notes with one name on each and now I tried to organize them in some what appealing order. It didn't work out. There was always something wrong with them. Something was out of place or forgotten. Like this one time I completely forgot Mr. What's-his-name's wife. I had been happy, well, as happy as I could, about the arrangement and then I'd noticed that something was missing.
Maybe I should put Dr. Bartlet in the other end of the table, opposite to Mr. President, and the ambassadors like... this... no. No. It still seems wrong. Damn it.
I heard footsteps stopping behind me. "So here we are just playing with paper dolls, are we?" I heard a voice remarking with a humored tone. I didn't even have to look up to know who it was.
"Oh, shut up, Sam."
"OK." He didn't go away though, I could sense him lurking over my shoulder, but I didn't let him bother me. I arranged the nametags again in a new order, it took about 40 seconds --practice makes perfect--, and leant back to adore my hands' work. There. Perfect. "Um... Donna?"
I glanced up at Sam's smirking face. "Yeah?"
"Are you sure that the First Lady can sit in the middle of the Collen's family while Mrs. Collen is away?"
I glanced back at the nametags.
Damn it.
I hate seating arrangements more than anything in the world. I crashed against the table, leaning my forehead against the top of the desk, and moaned. Sam tapped me comfortingly on the shoulder. Well, he can tap all he wants, but that's not going to get the job done.
As I had had my moment of dwelling in self-misery, I rose my head back up again and turned to look at him. He was smiling at me, not mockingly but knowingly. I guess he was trying to show sympathy. I heaved a sigh. "Sam," I started, "is there actually a reason why you are here?"
He made himself comfortable on the edge of my desk before saying, without any hurry what so ever: "Yes, actually, there was." I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. He just stared at something over my head.
"Well?"
"Huh?" I could tell that he was miles away so I waved my hand quickly before his eyes. He snapped out of it. "Yes. Um… Bonnie said that you had the technology report."
"Which one?"
"Production statistics."
Oh, that one. I remember it. I started to flip through the files on my otherwise very well organized desk to find it. I just can't remember where I'd put it. Yes, me, the queen of organization. If Josh would hear of this, he'd mock me about it forever. After all the lectures I'd given him about organization... Is it this one? I glanced at the title of a thick blue file. Registered divorces in the state of New York? No, that's not it. I don't even know what is it doing hanging around here for. I put it aside and continued to search. It's somewhere here, I know.
"At least your lucky that you don't have to make a full day tomorrow, just get the lunch ready and..."
I stopped moving and lifted my gaze from the pile of papers surprised, interrupting him: "Wait a minute! What do you mean 'don't have to make a full day'?" How come this is the first time I've heard of this?
He knit his brow and looked at me as if I was the one making no sense what so ever. "You know, with Josh going --" Then it hit him. The whole scale of faces, up from 'what she's talking about' through 'maybe' to 'shit, I blurted something stupid', flew over his face as he suddenly whispered, "Oh..."
What does he mean 'oh'? "What?"
"So you haven't talked with Josh today?"
"Of course I've spoken with Josh today. I'm his assistant, remember?"
Once again, his eyes filled with wonder and then they lit up as another 'oh', this time longer and more stressed and meaningful, escaped from his mouth.
"What? Where is he going?"
"Um... I'm kinda in a hurry here... if you could just pass me the file and..."
He's dodging? Suspicion started building up in my head. "Sam," I started with a steady, warning tone, "if you don't tell me immediately what 'oh', I'm going to tell CJ who loaded porno on her computer the other day."
His brows darted to the sky. "I never did such a thing!" he yelped.
"Yeah, but she doesn't know that."
His eyes narrowed. "You're a cruel woman, Donnatella Moss."
"Only when I have to," I smirked. "Now, spill it."
"Well... It just isn't really that big of a deal, I just thought you already knew, that's all, you know, that Josh had already told you..."
"Sam..."
"He's just going to Richmond tomorrow, nothing more to it," he quickly finished.
"Richmond?" I frowned. What so big about Richmond then? My hands started moving again through the pile of files. "On business? Why didn't he tell me then? I could've arranged something, book some hotel rooms and cancel his appointments..."
"Um... it's not."
I glanced at him. "Not what?"
"Business."
Oh. Then what is... oh. Oh. Amy. So they're 'getting away' for the weekend. That's... um... nice. For them. Really nice. I cleared my throat. "Yes. Well... I still have to cancel --"
"No, you don't. He took care of it."
"He did?" I think my voice squeaked a bit through the end.
"He said that he'd tell you, I just guess he hadn't had the chance yet. He was going to," Sam tried to assure.
Oh, I bet he was. I can't believe that guy. Out loud I only grunted a short 'yeah'.
"He did! It just wasn't that long ago, he just probably has been busy!"
"Sure."
"He didn't even know until last night --"
Oh for... "Sam! It's OK! Like you said, it's not a big deal or anything, he's just going to Richmond. It really isn't my business what he does in his free-time with his girlfriend," I moaned at him. My tone didn't sound very convincing, but I meant what I said. It's not my business. They can do what they want. It's not like he needs my permission to go out of town. I am not his girlfriend, Amy is, he's in no way responsible to me for his action.
That's what I was thinking while trying to ignore that little red man sitting on my shoulder. I don't know why, but I felt angry at Josh. I cleared my throat. "When are they leaving, then?" I finally asked, as innocently as ever.
"Tonight, I'm not sure what time." He had that look on his face that was asking me if everything was okay. I bet he was waiting for me to ask something like that, but it's not what you think! I just want to know when can I get out of this place.
"Oh." I tried to concentrate on the files and look as casual as possible. Not because I was feeling something else than casual, because I wasn't, but because he was staring at me. I could feel his eyes piercing through me. God, Sam can be such a drama-queen. Why would I be upset because Josh didn't tell me? He's just Josh. I don't understand why Sam suddenly has such a problem with it. I guess that he's either bored or trying to spice up his own non-excisting love life with the concept of others imaginary love lives. Either way it's annoying. I have no interest in what Josh does on his weekends with his girlfriend. None what so ever.
It's just... I hate Amy. She's not good for him. Like Josh would say: she's a gomer. And I don't like the way she treats me like I'm a servant. OK, yes, I really don't know her that well; we haven't really ever talked more than ten seconds. Don't get me wrong, I bet she's a nice person all together, but I still hate her.
With relief, and a little hint of victory flowing over me, I pulled a brown file from the pile. Maybe now I'll get him out of my case. I shoved it at his direction. Nicely, that is. Of course.
"He was going to tell you," Sam tried to tell me once more as he grabbed the file..
"Yes, I'm sure he would've got to that sooner or later," I answered with a tiny one-sided smile. "There," I nodded towards the file in his hands. "Your file. Now run along. Bonnie's very possessive about her bosses, she won't like you fooling around with other assistants."
He made a face at me before turning to leave. "Promise me you won't kill Josh because he didn't tell you."
I threw my hands in the air and groaned irritably. "There's no reason to kill for! Don't make a fuss about non-existing!" Like that's ever going to happen.
He just arched an eyebrow at me and disappeared behind the bullpens wall.
I really can't read the way his mind works, I just can't. Sam's got very peculiar ideas in his head. Like, for example, why should I care if Josh goes to Richmond? I should be rejoicing, I got the Saturday off. I could do anything I haven't done in months, years even. I could go shopping in peace, without hurry, or get my nails done, or spend the day in bed and just relax, or even clean my kitchen. Or get seven packets of ice cream and eat till I throw up.
Josh is happy with Amy. He's very happy. I'm glad he has someone, it's not like this job offer a lot of possibilities for a relationship. And the thought that I'd be jealous over him is absurd. Sam is absurd.
I'm just kinda pissed off that he couldn't be straight forward with me about this. I mean, who the hell does he think he is? Every girl's fantasy? Yeah, he's got stamina and power and money and sense of humor and a great body for a man at his age and those dimples that sometimes make me wanna… Oh for Christ's sake! I'm not going to think about him like that, that's no way to think about my boss! All I'm saying is that he's got a good figure, both socially and physically. He'd be a great catch for any girl. No, that is not what I'm saying. I'm saying that even with all the good figures he might have, ok, has, he's still a pain in the ass. That's what I'm saying. So, if he thinks that I'm somehow mooning over him and would be upset that he's having a romantic weekend with Amy, he's thinking way too much of himself. Way too much. Not that that's a news.
I'm just pissed off that he thinks that he should hide these things from me.
With a groan I turned back to the notes. Now Sam's got to me with his ridiculous obsessions. Damn him. I'm not going to think about it, I tell myself as I get back to work. I'm just not going to think about it.
***
I glared at Josh from my desk. He was changing a couple of words with a guy from the Protocol. I couldn't hear the words, just mumbling. The guy nodded once more before leaving. As Josh continued his interrupted walk towards his office, he noticed me looking at him. He smiled and winked.
Jerk.
He still hasn't told me, you know.
I don't know why I let it bother me. It's just Richmond.
Sam's avoiding me. When I see him, he turns away or starts to stammer something about meetings. It's not like I'm bothering him with the subject. I'm just... talking about it. A little. Mentioning it once in awhile. Once or twice. Or several times. But I'm not whining. Definitely not whining. And what ever Sam might say, I'm not getting worked up about it. I'm just talking to him about it. Telling him that it's nothing. He's the one, who brought it up, so he should deal with the consequences. And I don't really care. What about it if he's going to Richmond? It's his problem. Holiday. I meant to say holiday.
Damn him. Jerk.
I promised myself that I wouldn't think about it. At all. But still I find myself waiting, every time I see Josh, waiting him to open his mouth and stop being a coward. But he stays oblivious. And he doesn't say anything. He says, "Donna, pass me that file, Donna, could you make copies from this, Donna, get me Neil on the line," but never, no matter how patiently I wait, never "Donna, I'm going to Richmond with my girlfriend and the only reason I didn't tell you is that I'm too chicken-shit and an ego-maniac who thinks you actually care." Never that.
It annoys the heck out of me.
I threw my pen on the desk with a grunt. I need a break. I decided to visit Ainsley in the basement.
Her door was open as I got down to the basement.
"Hi."
Ainsley's blond head jerked up at the sound of my voice from the doorway. As soon as she registered that it was me, a weary smile appeared on her face -- most likely mine matched it perfectly. She looked tired, dark circles outlined her eyes and her smile was exhausted. "Am I disturbing you?"
"Well, yes, but --" she started with her wide accent but was disturbed by the sudden, loud rattling of the pipes that made me jump a bit. She pointed her thumb at them with a small chuckle. "I get disturbed a lot anyway, so what the heck."
I gave a little laugh as I stepped into the room. The room was only illuminated by her table lamp and it took me a second to get used to the lack of light as I walked to the guest chair and sat down. "So, what's up, my girl?" I asked with a light tone, folding my hands on my lap and leaning back.
She shot a humored eye brow at me. "'What's up'?"
"Says a girl who has an identity crisis and is desperately trying to cling on to the last shreds of her soon disappearing youth by trying to sound like a twelve-year-old."
" 'How's it hanging' would've done the same trick."
"I was afraid it would bring up the Freudian sides of you."
"And 'what's up' won't?"
I shrugged with a weak smile. "I didn't think that far."
"Well, thank you for asking, I'm doing fine, if you don't count the fact that I'm drowning under files. I'm beginning to feel like the official dumpster here." She gave a defeated glance at the pile of files placed in front of her and sighed before lifting her eyes again. I flashed an apologizing smile at her that made her put down her pen and relax her back against the chair. I guess she decided it was time to take a brake as she intrigued with a knowing look: "So what are you hiding from?"
I looked at her, confused. "Excuse me?"
"I've learnt that people come down here for two reasons: to hide from something or for work."
"What makes you think that I didn't come for the latter?"
"Who says 'what's up' when she wants to discuss work?"
"So you don't think that people could come here for just a lovely chat?"
"No."
It was my turn to shoot an eye brow. She just shrugged as if to say 'hey, that's how it goes, deal with it'. Then she gave me another look; the kind that says that I can't squirm my way out of this one.
Damn, she reads me too well. "OK, OK," I groaned, defeated. "It's Josh. And Sam. They're both equally annoying." She look at me with her face full of question, so I continued: " Josh keeps avoiding the subject that he's going to Richmond tonight. He doesn't know that Sam already told me about it, and I'm not going to say anything if he's too chicken-shit to just say it."
I realized how stupid I must've sounded as a little chuckle escaped from her mouth. I could've been offended by that but then she rolled her eyes with an expression that told me that she wasn't laughing at me but at them. "What did Sam do, then?" she asked.
I waved my hand in the air belittling. "Oh, nothing. He just thinks that I would be upset about it. I don't know where he gets those ideas of his. Apparently he thinks that my entire life circles around Josh. He should get a job as his ego." I gave a fake pout.
"Guys."
"They're all jerks."
"Yes, they are."
"They think that the biggest complement a girl can have is 'your hair looks nice today'."
"Or 'your cooking tastes as good as my mother's'."
"Or 'I saw this coffee-maker and instantly thought of you'."
She gave me a shocked look. "Seriously? Somebody actually said that to you?"
"Yeah."
"Wow. That is bad."
"I know."
"That couldn't have lasted long."
"Well, it didn't. We broke up a month after that. I kept the coffee-maker, though," I admitted and smiled at the memory. He, Paul, had demanded it back. He'd looked like a little boy saying that I stole his toy truck. I shrugged the image off. No need to visit the old memory lane right now, I told myself as I pushed myself up from the chair. "I think I have to get back now. Thanks for the break. I needed it," I smiled at her.
"Same here." I was just turning around to leave when her voice stopped me. "Hey -- Josh, he's your boss."
I chuckled and shot a look at her. "Yes, he is. What about it?"
"Why didn't he talk to you about it, then? Did he think that you'd just show up tomorrow morning and notice that he's not here?"
My body stopped moving as my mind suddenly started screaming. Wait a minute...
Why exactly didn't he tell me? There's something more to this than just 'busy'. There's got to be... "I gotta go," I said hastily, my mind million miles away.
Sam. He's got to know something.
"What?"
Her voice broke through my thought as I remembered that she was still there. Or I were still there. Depends on how you look at it. "I -- I'm sorry, I just remembered something I have to do," I stuttered half-heartedly. "I'll see you later."
I turned around and practically ran out of the room. I gotta find Sam. There are some questions that need to be asked.
***
The door to his office was closed but I could tell he was in. It was the muffled swearing that gave him away. I rose my hand to knock on the door but the movement stopped into the air. Second thoughts. God, I hate those. What do you think you're doing? I shook the doubts out of my head and knocked. I got a silent grunt, so I opened the door and peeked in. Sam was sitting behind his desk, rubbing his forehead.
"Hi," I started unsure where to go from that. He gave me a nod and a 'what do you want' look.
I decided to go with casual. I sat down, without asking, into his guest chair and took my best just-stopping-by-expression. I curved my lips into a friendly smile. "So, how are you doing?" Oh my God, do I sound fake or do I sound fake?
"Just fine," he answered with a suspicious glint in his eyes.
"Yeah. That's good. It's good that you're... good." I started playing with the edge of my skirt. Really smooth there, girl, my mind screamed but I couldn't stop myself.
I shifted on the seat. "So... um... Richmond, huh?" I regretted the words the second they pass my lips. The look on Sam's face said it all, the 'hah, I knew it' look. His poker face sucks. Still, he tried to pull it off as he nods. I felt a lump forming in my stomach and turned my eyes away from him, to my shoes.
"That's nice," I said. He gave me another look. "I mean, I bet Richmond is nice this time of the year. I've heard that there's nice... um... views there."
"Oh, really?"
Who do you think you're kidding? I shake the thought out of my head and continue as casually as I can: "Yeah, there was a brochure I once saw. It looked nice. You've ever been to Richmond?"
"No, I haven't." He's still giving me that look. The 'I know what you're really after' look. It gave me the creeps.
"Well, you know what they all say; See Richmond and die," I tried to chuckle.
"That's Rome."
"Oh." I stared at him. "Yes. I guess it is Rome." He just looked at me patiently as if waiting for something.
I heard the clock ticking on the wall. One...
I raised my eyes from my shoes.
Two...
Sam has a nice office. I've never really noticed that.
Three...
I sighed quietly.
Four...
Oh, what the hell. "Why didn't he talk to me about it?" I moaned, whined more likely. I must've sounded pathetic.
He shifted on his chair, taking a better position on it, a small victorious smile forming on his lips, and leant his cheek against his clenched fist looking at me steadily. "I don't know."
"You're his best friend, right? Do you think he's been acting a bit weirdly lately?"
"You're talking about a guy who's childhood dream was to become a ballerina."
"Being a ballerina isn't that bad."
"Can you imagine Josh in a tutu?"
I couldn't help the laughter that the image of Josh in a tutu brought up. "Male ballerinas don't wear tutus, Sam."
"I know. But I still can't shake the imagine."
"Well, you do have a dirty imagination." I let the silence well for a beat. "Sam, seriously, do you think there's something wrong?"
"With him? Yeah. He's gone insane dating that Amy."
"You still don't like her?"
"Not really, no. And don't pretend that you do."
"I do!" I protested. "She's nice and... she -- um -- She's got a great sense of humor."
"She calls you his secretary and makes you bring coffee. Donna, you don't have to like her just because she's your Josh's girlfriend and you can't show how much that really annoys you."
I gasped.
For a moment there the air seemed to freeze still. We both stared at each other with our jaws hanging.
What did he just say?
Your Josh's girlfriend? He just called... He... My Josh?
Slowly, decree by decree, his face went all red. "Boss's," he stammered. All of a sudden he wasn't that calm and all-knowing anymore. "I meant to say your boss's, I just... um...You... um, she... I wasn't implying anything."
"He's not my Josh, Sam." My voice sounded weird, all squeaky.
"I know, it just slipped out."
"Well, he's not mine. We're not involved," I insisted. He's not actually thinking that, is he? I know we're close, Josh and I, and you could easily be mistaken, but Sam should know better than to assume... Oh my God! "Or -- or is there something you've heard?"
He wasn't sitting so comfortably anymore. "Nothing! I've heard nothing. I wasn't implying that!"
"I know how those trainees get. They think they know everything and make wrong conclusions and --"
"I haven't heard anything! Honestly!" His face was filled with panic.
"OK."
"I wasn't implying that you two were... you know. Involved. I just said the wrong word."
"OK."
"I'm a man, I can't chew gum and walk at the same time."
"OK."
My last OK didn't sound any more convincing to my ears than the previous ones.
For a while I just sat there, opening and closing my mouth like a fish, trying to come up with something to say. I considered a long explanation about the deep inner motives of the relation -- friendship between Josh and I but instead, the only words that I managed to speak were the slow, shocked: "Yes, I'm sure you weren't." As if in a daze, I guess I kind of was, I stood up and made some gestures towards the door. "I'll leave you to your work now. I'll... See you later, Sam."
As the door closed behind me, I had to remind myself to keep breathing.
This day is just getting weirder and weirder.
***
He hadn't noticed me when I'd walked into his doorway. I stood there, leaning against his doorframe and watching him rummaging through the filing cabinet. I'd been there for awhile now.
I knocked against the doorframe gently and he turned to glance over his shoulder. "Hey," he said absent-mindedly and returned to his search.
"Hey," I echoed his word. I crossed my arms on my chest and just watched him. He pulled out a file and glanced at the nametag. His silent curse made me smile as he shoved it back. Wrong file, I guess.
Finally, he gave up and sighed. Still flipping through the files, he sighed with a defeated tone: "Have you seen the Military Funding File?"
"It's under M. Like in 'Military'."
"It's not under M like 'Military'."
With a deep sigh I reached to close the door before I walked to him. I pushed him gently aside, flipped through a couple of files and pulled a brown one out. It was hard to hold back the smile as I handed the file to him. "Here."
"It wasn't there when I looked," he protested. I couldn't resist smirking.
"Oh, I bet it wasn't."
He muttered something incomprehensive, brushing the subject aside and turning away from me. He was shaking his head slightly as he walked away, browsing through the file. He moved to his desk and stopped in front of it with his back towards me. I followed him. I'd almost forgotten the reason why I was here but now it came back to me. He was trying to look like he was reading but I knew he wasn't. He was waiting for me to say something. He knew that I had something to say.
I might as well get to business then. "Why didn't you tell me about Richmond?" I was amazed how soft my voice sounded. I was expecting something more angry, expecting some kind of frustration, but it wasn't there. I guess a day of cursing him in my mind had worn the anger of. Actually, it wasn't anger. It was... disappointment. I finally understood what bothered me so much about this whole thing. He didn't trust me. He didn't trust my strength, what ever that is, for what ever reason that is. It had made me angry. Now it just made me feel... tired.
His head whirled around, his eyes wide with surprise. Actually, his face said, clearly and loudly, 'oops, I got caught', which just made me more disappointed. I was standing only a couple of feet away from him now, and even though the sudden tension bothered me, I didn't move. I just leveled my eyes with his, silently demanding some kind of an explanation. Or an apology. Either would be nice. Instead, he just... melted. His shoulders slumped and his arms lowered to his sides in defeat as he finally sighed, after a long silence: "Um... Who told you about it?"
"Sam."
He grunted, rolling his eyes, which just made me sadder. "Should've known…" he muttered.
"I don't understand you," I let out a breath, tired of trying to make him apologize with my will power. "You should've told me, Josh. I could've made arrangements, clear out your schedule, done my job. Instead you just decide that you won't tell me. For what?"
There they were. The puppy eyes. I hated it when he did that. I hated it because it always made me cave. A bit.
"I was planning to tell you."
"Really? When exactly were you going to say something? When I was on my way out to leave home?"
"No. I would've told you eventually."
I just stared at him quietly for awhile. "Eventually?" I whispered wearily. Hell, I'm dead tired of playing this game with him. I'm tired of him treating me like... made of glass. I've known him for too long for him to do that to me. "Did you think that I'd fall apart and chain myself onto your leg crying 'oh, please, the man of my life, please don't go'? You really have an ego bigger than a mountain."
"I just thought… I didn't want to make you feel…"
"Patronized? You can take off your kid gloves with me, Josh. I'm not one of your fluff-headed ex-girlfriends."
My comment made a small smile appear on his face. It broke the tension. Finally. Maybe now I can get the truth out of him. "I know that, Donna," he whispered with a soft, apologizing voice and a look that made my heart melt. He held my gaze as he continued: "It's just that I… I don't know why I didn't say anything. I guess it was my ego kicking in." Then he gave me the dimples. And took a step closer until he was standing right in front of me, his face barely inches from mine. Then, the death strike: he lifted his hand to brush my cheek gently with his finger tips. "I'm sorry. I've been a real jerk."
How could I not forgive him? I cursed my weak will power as my eye brows darted up. "Am I hearing right? Josh Lyman is willing to admit that he's been a jerk? Oh my God, is the sky falling down?"
"Donna, please," he grinned. "I'm trying to be nice here, but if you prefer it otherwise then…"
"No, no, this is fine by me." Finally, I smiled. I couldn't resist.
Neither of us said anything for a long time. We just smiled at each other, all forgiven, all forgotten. We stood there in the sunlight streaming through the blinds and just... stood. He broke the gaze only for a second to glance down and wrapped his fingers around my hand. Then he looked up again, smiling cautiously. "So, am I forgiven?"
I smiled and nodded. Then, for no apparent reason, I leant slightly closer and landed my lips on the side of his mouth, just barely not on his lips, and gave him a small kiss. You couldn't really call it a kiss, but still, its impact was no milder. I jerked back, well, my head did. My body stayed right there where it was; few inches from his.
I should've said something.
He should've said something.
Neither of us did.
Oh my God... What was I thinking? Suddenly, the space between us seemed narrower. He's standing too close to me. Way too close. I could've pulled back, right then, I should've pulled back. But I didn't. Instead I let myself sink into his brown eyes. I let enjoy the warmth that glowed out of his body. I let myself imagine. Kissing him... If I'd just lean in a bit... Just an inch, I could... No! Bad Donna! I gave myself a mental slap on the wrist. It didn't help. I was trapped. Moving seemed to be something from another universe. I know it sounds stupid, but that's how I felt. Glued.
I've never denied it, the electricity we have. But I've always managed to brush it aside. Not now. Not when he leant closer, slowly... Or was it me? I could feel my lips parting a bit; unconsciously but they did. And he kept coming closer. Almost unnoticeably. Just... a little bit... closer....
Have you ever had that moment when you're absolutely sure the world will explode if you start breathing?
I have.
The sound of the door swinging open cut the air and the silence. "Josh!" My entire body literally jumped as CJ suddenly, out of nowhere, appeared in the doorway calling his name. I gasped a breath that I'd unconsciously been holding and jumped apart from Josh, cursing the fact that CJ almost gave me a heart attack in my mind. "Have you... oh... um… I'm sorry," CJ stammered as she peeked in. All kinds of emotions flew over her face; confusion, apology, realization and things like that. Only then I realized what we must've looked like. And now she's thinking of something that she shouldn't be thinking about this completely innocent situation. I pulled back from Josh even more, shook his hand off of mine and stepped back. Without thinking, call it reaction if you like, I whirled around and started looking something from his desk. "I... um... Am I interrupting something?" There was a little stress on the word 'something'.
Josh started to say something but I beat him to it. "No, not at all. We were just going through some stuff, but it can wait." Even to my own ears I was talking too fast. The smile that I pulled must've been as fake as it felt. I could see doubt on CJ's eyes. She was glaring at Josh in a way that told me that she wasn't believing a word I was saying. "You just... um... do what you do. I'll talk to you later about the lunch, Josh. Bye." With this incredibly clumsy and stupid-sounding excuse I was out of the door before either of them could say a word.
Goddammit!
I felt like crawling into a small hole and spending the rest of my life in there. That wasn't a pleasant feeling.
***
"Do you think I might be schizophrenic?"
"For thinking that today is from The Twilight Zone? No, I don't think you are schizophrenic because if you are, then so am I."
I looked down at the red-head who sat behind her desk and typed. "Yeah? Why's that?"
"Well --" Ginger started but was interrupted by the sound of Sam's door flying open. Sam himself rushed out of the office. As he saw me sitting on the edge of Ginger's desk, he stunned and went as white as a sheet. His mouth open and closed as if he'd suddenly turned into CJ's goldfish as he stared at me.
"Donna... Hi... Um... Have you talked with Toby lately?" he finally managed to utter. His eyes darted frantically between me and the nearest doorway. If I wouldn't have known better, I'd said that he was looking for an escape route. Wait a minute... I didn't know better.
I knit my brow suspiciously and glared at him. "Why?"
I could swear he looked relieved. His chest eased as if he'd been holding his breath. "No reason." Then he quickly fled out of my sight. I darted an eyebrow at Ginger.
Her other hand gave a little wave in the air, as if wordlessly saying 'my point exactly'. "Twilight Zone," she simply stated without looking up from the computer screen.
"Okay."
"Donna?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't get this the wrong way but... Why aren't you at your desk?"
My eyes widened. "No reason."
"I didn't believe it when Sam said it two seconds ago and I'm not believing it now."
Yeah, well I wouldn't believe myself either if I were her. "I... I don't know..." I stared at my hands. You almost kissed your boss, you idiot! That's why! I ignored the screaming in my head and sighed. I'm overreacting. Nothing happened.
Except that 'almost' is just as bad.
Oh God, I really screwed up this time. We were this close, this close from getting back to normal after Cliff and everything that has happened since... well, Rosslyn, and now... What do I do? I screw it up. And I know how it's going to be from now on. Awkward. Silent. Polite. Correct. I just... I just can't face it just yet.
"You should talk to him." My eyes darted at her. She'd said it out of thin air, with no apparent reason. Just... wham. There it was, hanging in the air. She continued typing as if nothing had came out of her mouth.
"W-what?"
With a sigh she whirled her chair around to face me, folding her hands on her lap as she did so. "I don't know what it is but I do know that it has something to do with Josh. So go talk to him."
"But..."
Her hand suddenly shoved me off the edge of her desk with enough force for me to almost fall down to the floor. "Go!" she shooed me. I tried to protest but she just fixed me with a knowing look. "No buts, Donna. Either you go to talk to him or you whine about it all day, and I'd rather not have the latter." Another poke at my side pushing me towards the hallway.
"Okay, okay! I'm going," I muttered. She just smiled. One evil woman, I thought with a small smile of my own.
The smile faded as the operations bullpen grew closer and closer. I felt nervous. This... talk, it was unavoidable. This is something that has to be done. Eventually. Maybe eventually is better than right now. I mean, I could think about it, weigh my thoughts and... and feelings, and... God, just get in there!
The walk through the bullpen seemed like miles. His door was closed. Not a good sign. I took in a shaky breath before reaching out my hand and knocking. I waited.
Nothing.
I knocked again. Still nothing. I pushed the door slightly ajar and peeked in.
He wasn't there.
So where is he? I asked the same question from Kathy as she walked by. She just lifted her shoulders. She said she hadn't seen him since four o'clock. I glanced back at the empty office and his empty chair sitting behind his desk.
And a white piece of paper on the desk. A note. I walked closer just to notice my name scribbled on it. With a frown I flipped the folded piece of paper open.
Sorry.
Had to hit the road before it gets too late.
J
I stared at it. Sorry? He chickens out on me, once again - that makes twice today -, and he's sorry? I sighed. For some reason I felt... well, hurt. Okay, okay, fine. I didn't want to talk about it either, so I can't really blame him, I understand, but did he have to dump me like this? Just leave like nothing had happened? I think that was a bit unreasonable. He could've at least said it to my face instead of this... stupid little piece of paper. He really annoys me these days, you know?
So, he's gone to Richmond with his... Amy. I hope they're having fun. That wasn't a sarcastic comment. Honestly. I hope they have fun on their candlelight dinner in some cozy little restaurant and on their walk in the park. I hope they got a nice room since they're most likely going to spend some time there, and I hope they shag like rabbits so that they can make the most of it and -- I am not jealous! I am not! Don't even think that I am. Because I'm not. Definitely not.
OK, I am.
But I'm only jealous because nobody's ever taken me to a weekend trip to Richmond or anywhere else. Nobody's even taken me to a one-night trip. Unless it's work related. That sucks. I am not jealous because Josh hasn't taken me to a weekend trip.
I wonder if they will be having breakfast in bed....
OK, OK, I'm lying! I'm jealous because Josh didn't take me! There, I said it! Are you happy now? I sat down, more like slumped down, into his chair and stared at the note hoping it would burst out in flames if I wished hard enough.
I want to smack somebody. Sam will do fine.
***
"Have you seen Sam?"
Toby lifted his eyes from his computer screen and looked at me like he was ready to kill somebody. I figured that bothering him wasn't the smartest idea, so I just muttered something and walked away. I don't know what' s wrong with him today, but he's been like a madman. I guess it has something to do with CJ, 'cause they've been scratching each other's eyes out all day. But, it's not my business. I just want to find Sam.
He wasn't in his office. Leo hadn't seen him -- he seemed quite pleased about that --, neither had Ginger. Why is it that when I need to talk to somebody, he disappears? Unbelievable.
But now I need to talk to Sam. He's the only one who understands and, frankly, the only one who I can complain to about Josh since he's the only one willing to listen. Or maybe he just hasn't got the balls to say no. One way or the other, I need to talk to him. Maybe he went to see Ainsley. Even though the pipes are making noises like there's something monstrous loose in there, her office is probably the calmest place in the whole wide White House, including the closets.
As it turns out, I was right. I just got to the end of the last stairs that lead to the basement when he ran into me and almost knocked me down. He grabbed me by the shoulders to keep us from stumbling down the stairs. "Hey!" I yelped, surprised.
He had this really weird expression on his face as he muttered his apology. I could almost hear his brains pondering about something. I couldn't read his face, there was distraction and a lot of... confusion? I don't know, but it was weird. It was as if something had happened. All of a sudden, the look in his eyes made me worried, pushing my own problems aside for a while. I frowned. "Sam? Are you alright?"
He glanced up at me with raised eyebrows. "Huh?" He snapped out of his thoughts and gave me a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just fine."
He didn't sound a bit convincing. I took a better look at him, up and down his figure. "Is that chocolate on your shirt?"
His eyes darted to the side. "Um... Yeah," he replied vaguely and hastily changed the subject, "Were you looking for me?"
Slowly I nodded, still not quite convinced that there wasn't something going on. Nevertheless, I aimed my thoughts back to the subject in hand. I know it's not the same but Sam makes a good substitute. So I smacked him on the shoulder as hard as I could.
"OW!" he yelped, grabbing his shoulder with a stunned look on his face. "What the hell did you do that for?!"
"Josh wasn't here."
He looked at me with his mouth open for a good time before grunting. "Oh for crying out loud! You're not still mooning over that, are you?" I guess my pathetic whine had said it all. He just rolled his eyes. "How long are you two going to live in denial?" he muttered under his breath. Well, at least that's what I thought he said. I frowned. What was that supposed to mean? I didn't have the change to wonder about it for too much longer because he pushed his way by me. "Sam?" I called out in search for an explanation. He was already on his way up the upper stairs when he turned back to me. The puzzled expression had returned to his face. I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it as I changed my mind. Instead I just asked softly: "Are you sure everything's OK?"
He thought about it for awhile and nodded slowly and uncertainly. Then he said more confidently with a tiny, one-sided smile: "Yes, I guess everything is OK."
Who knows what that was supposed to mean.
***
It was nearly 1 a.m. when I woke up in the sound of something ringing.
I'd spent my evening in the company of a sob-film and a packet of chocolate chip ice cream. As the night had got older and the ice-cream packet emptier, I'd started to wonder where that stupid cliche that women eat packets of ice cream when they're sad came from. That stuff only made me nauseous. Besides, the film was crap. At the end of the movie I was more entertained counting the cliches than actually watching it. But at least it kept me from thinking what Josh and Amy were doing at that moment. It's ridiculous, I know, for me to be jealous of my boss's girlfriend. I mean, what's the point? And why should I be jealous over Josh? It's not like were lovers.
I just miss him, us. That's all.
When I finally had gotten to bed, I'd fallen asleep in a second, like knocked out with a hammer. And now this annoying, very familiar noise kept disturbing me through the voice of the distant thunderstorm. What the hell...? It took awhile for my consciousness to wake up, I guess, but finally I realized it was the phone. Who idiotic mastermind is calling at this hour?
I recognized his voice from the first word.
"Donna?" he said, almost whispered with this raspy, low voice he sometimes has. There was a long silence on the line. I could hear him breathing. I sat up in my bed and I was sure of it: something has happened. I'm sure of it. Something bad. I mean, why else would he be calling me in the middle of the night while he's spending a romantic weekend with Amy? But then I heard his short laughter from the other end, and my heart jumped. I could almost hear the warm smile in his voice when he said: "Go with the red napkins."
Sometimes he's just the sweetest man alive.
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Next chapter:
Seven deadly sins - Hate
"So what's new?"
"Huh?"
"You know we haven't talked for awhile --"
"We never talk."
"-- and I thought it's about time we shared a bit of our lives."