This is the next story in the "As I Was Drifting Away" series. Hope you
enjoy it. Let me know what you think.
POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Not mine. Darn.
In Your Eyes - Chapter One A West Wing Story
by MAHC
Donna Moss hesitated at the door to Margaret's office. Her heart pumped up into her throat with the anticipation of what she debated telling her colleague and closest friend in the West Wing. She watched from just outside the threshold for a minute or two as the tall redhead moved with crisp efficiency, making sure Leo McGarry's office ran smoothly. With one more breath to push her courage forward, she stepped inside in time to hear the quickly moving conversation with the Chief of Staff.
"Nine-fifteen, Minority Leader on the Hill."
"Got it."
"Eleven, lunch with Secretary of Interior regarding a new national park."
He rolled his eyes. "One more for the President to visit. He'll love that." Donna smirked. Leo was not being sarcastic.
"One-thirty, DNC chairman."
"Cancel."
"Cancel?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Margaret," came the exasperated reply.
"That's one of those things that's not my business?"
"As is most everything I do here."
"Okay."
"Tell Sam and Toby I need to see them at two, and if Mallory calls while we're meeting, tell her I'll meet her at seven for dinner."
"Where are you eating?"
Leo stared at her silently.
"Not my business?"
A wicked gleam appeared in the Chief of Staff's eye. "I think, Margaret, that as soon as we have designated this new national park, you should be the one to accompany the President to its dedication. I'm sure he has a great deal of fascinating information to share with you regarding our national park system."
"I'm shutting up now," she offered.
"I thought you would be," Leo agreed and stepped back into his own office.
"Hey," Margaret greeted, after his door shut, not really looking at her.
"Hey."
A moment passed in silence as Leo's secretary finished the memo she had been scrawling on a notepad. It was not until she glanced up that she seemed to realize this might not be a casual visit.
"Hey," she repeated, but it became more of a question than a statement.
"Hey." Donna fiddled with the folder she had clutched in sweaty hands. She had brought it to look as if she had official business with Leo's secretary; a cover, she supposed, feeling uncomfortably clandestine. "Okay. I just thought - " Oh, man. How do I say this?
Donna could hear the alarms resounding in her friend's inquisitive brain. Margaret stood and walked around the desk, her willowy frame leaning forward with the obvious expectation that something unusual was up.
"Can we talk?" Donna finally settled on as an opener.
"Sure." But no one moved.
"Privately," Donna hinted.
"I just got here, but - " She stopped at the look of something disturbingly close to panic on Donna's face. "Okay. What the heck - Let's go get coffee or something."
Donna smiled gratefully and the two women slipped through the White House gates out into LaFayette Park. They stopped at a vendor on H Street, but neither bought coffee. Margaret ordered bottled water, while Donna selected a Diet Coke, wishing they had Fresca, a comeback drink Ainsley had hooked her on. Settling on a shaded bench, they listened for a few minutes to the cacophony of the D.C. streets, blaring horns, rumbling engines, chirping birds, scurrying squirrels.
"Okay," Margaret said, finally, back straight, hands set neatly around the plastic bottle in her lap. "What's up?"
Such a simple question. Such a complicated answer. Donna took a long moment to compose her response, then began. "Suppose I knew of someone, hypothetically, who worked for a pretty important staffer in the West Wing, who - might be - romantically connected with a - high-up government official, who also works in the West Wing." She found her eyes falling below Margaret's curious gaze.
"Who lived in the house that Jack built - "
"I'm serious, Margaret."
"Okay. I'll bite. How high is this official?"
Donna's brow rose, but her eyes remained lowered. "Pretty high," she whispered.
"Well," Margaret decided, sipping her water, "I'd say that if neither one is married, then it's their business."
That's what Donna wanted to hear, but she knew Margaret was still making a woefully uninformed decision. "What if it might be sort of - awkward - and when I say awkward, I mean sensationally scandalous - if it got out?"
Now Margaret's interest was piqued. "Donna," she asked seriously, "you're the person who works for an important staffer, right?"
Instead of answering directly, she said, "Suppose I told you I sort of - well - have been seeing someone who - works in the West Wing."
Margaret shrugged. "Seeing? As in dating?"
"As in.I slept with him last night."
Margaret's jaw dropped. "Whoa. Okay." Donna watched her eyes shift as she put two-and-two together and-- "Well, It's about time!"
"What?"
"It's about time!"
Okay, what does she mean? "What's about time?"
"You and Josh, silly," her friend explained.
Donna winced. She really had not thought of Josh in all this. Anyway, he was still on-again, off-again with Amy.
Margaret chatted on. " - knew it would happen eventually. Some of us even had a pool - well earlier, but not so much recently-"
"It's not Josh."
" -still I really figured you two would get - What?"
"It's not Josh."
"Oh." She was quiet for a long beat. Donna could almost see the possible pairings with eligible men in the office work through that quirky mind. If not Josh, then who? Toby? Nah. Sam? Maybe. Could be Larry or Ed. No, they aren't very high. Maybe a cabinet member? Surely not - Finally, Margaret shrugged.
"Okay. I give. Who?"
Who? Another simple question. Another complicated answer. Donna's mind created a montage of fresh memories: a rumpled bed, strong arms, insistent lips, piercing blue eyes, throbbing hardness. Oh wow. Desire flushed through her and she reluctantly pushed the heated vision away and tried to calm her suddenly pumping veins.
All morning she had relived her surreal night in the arms of the most powerful man in the world. She had pondered what was next, what would happen. He had been gone when she woke, her red dress draped neatly over a chair near the bed, her shoes placed uniformly beneath it. And she had blushed furiously when Charlie knocked and discreetly and silently escorted her from the residence.
For a while, she waited by the phone, just in case, but he didn't call, didn't send a note. She told herself that was understandable. It had only been a few hours. He was busy. But the aching in her heart deepened with each mute minute. Now, she began to regret saying anything to Margaret at all. She shouldn't have come, shouldn't have started this conversation. What had she been thinking? But it was too late. Time to put up or shut up. Margaret waited.
Okay. Do it. "The President."
"I'm sorry. I didn't-"
"The President."
Total incomprehension swept a blank mask over Margaret's face. "Who?"
Donna repeated herself with distinct diction, as if she spoke to someone who was hearing impaired. "The - Pre-si-dent."
No change of expression from her friend. "The President of what?"
"The President of the United States."
Long beat. "Of America?"
"Yeah." This would be humorous if I wasn't so terrified.
Finally, Margaret shook her head, still not able to grasp Donna's message. "President Josiah Bartlet?"
"President Josiah Bartlet - Jed."
"OH - MY - GOD!" Okay. Now she got it. She emphasized each word loudly, drawing curious looks from passing tourists and business people.
"Margaret!"
"Sorry," she tried to whisper, then continued only a little more softly, "Let me get this straight. You and - you and - the President, I mean THE PRESIDENT? You slept with the PRESIDENT?"
Donna nodded.
"OH - MY - GOD!"
"Margaret, you're not helping."
"You're not going to blackmail him, or anything?"
"Margaret!"
"Okay. But you probably could."
Donna stood abruptly. "I'm leaving now. Forget what I said. I was just kidding. It was a joke."
Margaret stood with her and thrust out her hands. "Okay. I'm sorry. It's just that - you and the President - you - and - Oh - my - God!"
"You said that already."
"Right. Okay. Okay, what happened? And I want details, mind you."
Careful to keep her voice barely audible, Donna briefly reviewed the events over the past months that culminated in the previous night's passion, delicately refusing to supply Margaret with too many desired details.
At least a minute passed in silence after she finished. Finally, the taller woman leaned in conspiratorially and asked, "How was it?" Then, obviously horrified at herself, she raised a hand. "No! I don't want to know." But just as quickly, the hand came down. "Wait - yes I do!"
Donna's wide smile and reddened cheeks sent a clear response.
"Oh, my God!" Margaret squealed, actually squealed. Donna had never heard her make such a noise before. "Really?"
"Oh yeah!"
Now Margaret took several deep breaths, pacing in a loose circle. "Okay. Okay. So, what are you going to do?"
The wide smile faltered and she plopped down hard onto the bench. "I don't know. Oh, wow, Margaret. I don't know."
"Tell me what he said about.it."
Donna blushed a little. "Well.not much. I mean we didn't really - talk while - or after -"
"Oh - my - God!"
"Would you quit that?"
She had resumed her seat on the bench and leaned in closer to Donna. "Sorry. All right. Did he say he'd - see you later, or tonight, or some time?"
"He was gone when I woke up. But here's the thing. I know he's not over the First Lady, yet. I can still see the pain in his eyes. And he was really, well, really hesitant to.I mean, I sort of - persuaded him - "
Margaret smirked. "I'm sure that was hard."
"Actually," Donna admitted, "it was." A fresh memory drew a grin to her lips. "Although once things got started, he didn't have any trouble-"
The hand flew up again. "Okay. Too much information." Then she shook her head and swore. "Nevermind. Tell me anyway."
Donna's alabaster skin pinked deeply. "Let's just say we were both pretty exhausted by morning."
Margaret grabbed her arm. "By morning! Did you stay all night?"
She nodded.
"Did you - did you - ALL night?
"Just about."
"Oh - my - God!"
Confusion swirled around her head, spinning her brain dizzily. "What do I do now, Margaret?" She held out her hands helplessly.
"What do you want to do?"
"What?"
"What do you want to happen next? Donna, how do you feel about him?"
She tilted her head down, but her eyes looked up through the lashes. Drawing a breath, she admitted, "I love him."
"Oh, Donna." A compassionate hand clutched her shoulder.
"Yeah."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Does he feel the same way?"
She shook her head in distress. "I don't know. I haven't told him. I'm afraid that for him it was just - physical. You know, it had been over a year - "
"No wonder - " Margaret mumbled. Donna grinned in embarrassment, then continued.
"Anyway, I'm sure he likes me and he cares about me. He couldn't have been so - he was so gentle at times, so tender - and he made sure that I-" She stopped, unwilling to share too much. "Well, it was special for him, I think, but I don't know about - love."
As they sat quietly for moment, trying to absorb the sheer magnitude of the situation, Donna contemplated the question that was really starting to bother her. "Margaret, what about the press? What if people - found out? Do you think it would be bad?"
Please say no. I can't cause him trouble. The press! Oh, how awful that could be. Yet, a sick churning rose in the pit of her stomach when she entertained the notion of staying away from him so there would be no scandal. I don't want this to end.
Margaret shook her head, eyes wide. "Oh, gee, Donna. Let's see. The President of the United States had sex with a senior staff assistant thirty years his junior IN the White House."
"Doesn't sound so good when you put it that way."
"Could be worse."
"How?"
"You could have done it in the Oval Office." Suddenly, Margaret was all business, sitting tall, in decision-making mode. "Who else knows?"
"Charlie, for sure - and Leo, I think."
"Leo?"
"You know, I think Leo actually set us up. He was the one who suggested to Jed-"
Margaret flinched.
"--to the President that we play Trivial Pursuit."
Margaret looked at her from drawn brows. "Playing Trivial Pursuit - That's not a euphemism for - "
She slapped her friend's shoulder playfully. "No! We really did play Trivial Pursuit."
"How'd you do?"
"I got creamed."
"Literally," Margaret observed, deadpan.
Donna's cheeks burned. "Margaret!"
"Well - This is just - just - wow!"
"What do I do?"
Now, Margaret stood and paced again in front of the bench, arms folded, head down in concentration. "Neither Charlie nor Leo is going to say anything."
"No."
"And no one else has any idea? Josh? Toby?"
"Just you and me." Uh oh. "And I guess the secret service guys that were there when I arrived and when I left."
"They're sworn to secrecy, right?"
"Yeah," she agreed, but she wasn't completely sure.
"You have to act like nothing is different, at least in the office. Don't act suspicious."
What do you mean suspicious? "Like?"
"Like laying one on him next time he walks down the hall! I don't know, just.do what you usually do."
Donna drew up her courage to face another dreadful possibility. "What if - what if he doesn't - say anything about it? What if he acts as if it never happened? What if-" Tears choked her now, and Margaret moved back to the bench and drew her close.
"I think he will. But it's his move, Donna. Give him room. Give him time. Let him come to you."
Donna sniffed, wiping her face with her fingertips. "Yeah. I was afraid you'd say that, but I know that's the only choice. Still-"
"It's hard."
"Yeah."
She sat silently next to her co-conspirator under the trees for a few more minutes. Turmoil roiled inside her, assaulting her with conflicting visions of tender touches dissolving into sensational headlines. What had she done? But more importantly, what would he do? As they rose, Margaret turned to her once more, seeking final confirmation against the spark of disbelief that was not yet completely smothered.
"The President?"
"Yeah."
"Oh - my - God."
POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Not mine. Darn.
In Your Eyes - Chapter One A West Wing Story
by MAHC
Donna Moss hesitated at the door to Margaret's office. Her heart pumped up into her throat with the anticipation of what she debated telling her colleague and closest friend in the West Wing. She watched from just outside the threshold for a minute or two as the tall redhead moved with crisp efficiency, making sure Leo McGarry's office ran smoothly. With one more breath to push her courage forward, she stepped inside in time to hear the quickly moving conversation with the Chief of Staff.
"Nine-fifteen, Minority Leader on the Hill."
"Got it."
"Eleven, lunch with Secretary of Interior regarding a new national park."
He rolled his eyes. "One more for the President to visit. He'll love that." Donna smirked. Leo was not being sarcastic.
"One-thirty, DNC chairman."
"Cancel."
"Cancel?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Margaret," came the exasperated reply.
"That's one of those things that's not my business?"
"As is most everything I do here."
"Okay."
"Tell Sam and Toby I need to see them at two, and if Mallory calls while we're meeting, tell her I'll meet her at seven for dinner."
"Where are you eating?"
Leo stared at her silently.
"Not my business?"
A wicked gleam appeared in the Chief of Staff's eye. "I think, Margaret, that as soon as we have designated this new national park, you should be the one to accompany the President to its dedication. I'm sure he has a great deal of fascinating information to share with you regarding our national park system."
"I'm shutting up now," she offered.
"I thought you would be," Leo agreed and stepped back into his own office.
"Hey," Margaret greeted, after his door shut, not really looking at her.
"Hey."
A moment passed in silence as Leo's secretary finished the memo she had been scrawling on a notepad. It was not until she glanced up that she seemed to realize this might not be a casual visit.
"Hey," she repeated, but it became more of a question than a statement.
"Hey." Donna fiddled with the folder she had clutched in sweaty hands. She had brought it to look as if she had official business with Leo's secretary; a cover, she supposed, feeling uncomfortably clandestine. "Okay. I just thought - " Oh, man. How do I say this?
Donna could hear the alarms resounding in her friend's inquisitive brain. Margaret stood and walked around the desk, her willowy frame leaning forward with the obvious expectation that something unusual was up.
"Can we talk?" Donna finally settled on as an opener.
"Sure." But no one moved.
"Privately," Donna hinted.
"I just got here, but - " She stopped at the look of something disturbingly close to panic on Donna's face. "Okay. What the heck - Let's go get coffee or something."
Donna smiled gratefully and the two women slipped through the White House gates out into LaFayette Park. They stopped at a vendor on H Street, but neither bought coffee. Margaret ordered bottled water, while Donna selected a Diet Coke, wishing they had Fresca, a comeback drink Ainsley had hooked her on. Settling on a shaded bench, they listened for a few minutes to the cacophony of the D.C. streets, blaring horns, rumbling engines, chirping birds, scurrying squirrels.
"Okay," Margaret said, finally, back straight, hands set neatly around the plastic bottle in her lap. "What's up?"
Such a simple question. Such a complicated answer. Donna took a long moment to compose her response, then began. "Suppose I knew of someone, hypothetically, who worked for a pretty important staffer in the West Wing, who - might be - romantically connected with a - high-up government official, who also works in the West Wing." She found her eyes falling below Margaret's curious gaze.
"Who lived in the house that Jack built - "
"I'm serious, Margaret."
"Okay. I'll bite. How high is this official?"
Donna's brow rose, but her eyes remained lowered. "Pretty high," she whispered.
"Well," Margaret decided, sipping her water, "I'd say that if neither one is married, then it's their business."
That's what Donna wanted to hear, but she knew Margaret was still making a woefully uninformed decision. "What if it might be sort of - awkward - and when I say awkward, I mean sensationally scandalous - if it got out?"
Now Margaret's interest was piqued. "Donna," she asked seriously, "you're the person who works for an important staffer, right?"
Instead of answering directly, she said, "Suppose I told you I sort of - well - have been seeing someone who - works in the West Wing."
Margaret shrugged. "Seeing? As in dating?"
"As in.I slept with him last night."
Margaret's jaw dropped. "Whoa. Okay." Donna watched her eyes shift as she put two-and-two together and-- "Well, It's about time!"
"What?"
"It's about time!"
Okay, what does she mean? "What's about time?"
"You and Josh, silly," her friend explained.
Donna winced. She really had not thought of Josh in all this. Anyway, he was still on-again, off-again with Amy.
Margaret chatted on. " - knew it would happen eventually. Some of us even had a pool - well earlier, but not so much recently-"
"It's not Josh."
" -still I really figured you two would get - What?"
"It's not Josh."
"Oh." She was quiet for a long beat. Donna could almost see the possible pairings with eligible men in the office work through that quirky mind. If not Josh, then who? Toby? Nah. Sam? Maybe. Could be Larry or Ed. No, they aren't very high. Maybe a cabinet member? Surely not - Finally, Margaret shrugged.
"Okay. I give. Who?"
Who? Another simple question. Another complicated answer. Donna's mind created a montage of fresh memories: a rumpled bed, strong arms, insistent lips, piercing blue eyes, throbbing hardness. Oh wow. Desire flushed through her and she reluctantly pushed the heated vision away and tried to calm her suddenly pumping veins.
All morning she had relived her surreal night in the arms of the most powerful man in the world. She had pondered what was next, what would happen. He had been gone when she woke, her red dress draped neatly over a chair near the bed, her shoes placed uniformly beneath it. And she had blushed furiously when Charlie knocked and discreetly and silently escorted her from the residence.
For a while, she waited by the phone, just in case, but he didn't call, didn't send a note. She told herself that was understandable. It had only been a few hours. He was busy. But the aching in her heart deepened with each mute minute. Now, she began to regret saying anything to Margaret at all. She shouldn't have come, shouldn't have started this conversation. What had she been thinking? But it was too late. Time to put up or shut up. Margaret waited.
Okay. Do it. "The President."
"I'm sorry. I didn't-"
"The President."
Total incomprehension swept a blank mask over Margaret's face. "Who?"
Donna repeated herself with distinct diction, as if she spoke to someone who was hearing impaired. "The - Pre-si-dent."
No change of expression from her friend. "The President of what?"
"The President of the United States."
Long beat. "Of America?"
"Yeah." This would be humorous if I wasn't so terrified.
Finally, Margaret shook her head, still not able to grasp Donna's message. "President Josiah Bartlet?"
"President Josiah Bartlet - Jed."
"OH - MY - GOD!" Okay. Now she got it. She emphasized each word loudly, drawing curious looks from passing tourists and business people.
"Margaret!"
"Sorry," she tried to whisper, then continued only a little more softly, "Let me get this straight. You and - you and - the President, I mean THE PRESIDENT? You slept with the PRESIDENT?"
Donna nodded.
"OH - MY - GOD!"
"Margaret, you're not helping."
"You're not going to blackmail him, or anything?"
"Margaret!"
"Okay. But you probably could."
Donna stood abruptly. "I'm leaving now. Forget what I said. I was just kidding. It was a joke."
Margaret stood with her and thrust out her hands. "Okay. I'm sorry. It's just that - you and the President - you - and - Oh - my - God!"
"You said that already."
"Right. Okay. Okay, what happened? And I want details, mind you."
Careful to keep her voice barely audible, Donna briefly reviewed the events over the past months that culminated in the previous night's passion, delicately refusing to supply Margaret with too many desired details.
At least a minute passed in silence after she finished. Finally, the taller woman leaned in conspiratorially and asked, "How was it?" Then, obviously horrified at herself, she raised a hand. "No! I don't want to know." But just as quickly, the hand came down. "Wait - yes I do!"
Donna's wide smile and reddened cheeks sent a clear response.
"Oh, my God!" Margaret squealed, actually squealed. Donna had never heard her make such a noise before. "Really?"
"Oh yeah!"
Now Margaret took several deep breaths, pacing in a loose circle. "Okay. Okay. So, what are you going to do?"
The wide smile faltered and she plopped down hard onto the bench. "I don't know. Oh, wow, Margaret. I don't know."
"Tell me what he said about.it."
Donna blushed a little. "Well.not much. I mean we didn't really - talk while - or after -"
"Oh - my - God!"
"Would you quit that?"
She had resumed her seat on the bench and leaned in closer to Donna. "Sorry. All right. Did he say he'd - see you later, or tonight, or some time?"
"He was gone when I woke up. But here's the thing. I know he's not over the First Lady, yet. I can still see the pain in his eyes. And he was really, well, really hesitant to.I mean, I sort of - persuaded him - "
Margaret smirked. "I'm sure that was hard."
"Actually," Donna admitted, "it was." A fresh memory drew a grin to her lips. "Although once things got started, he didn't have any trouble-"
The hand flew up again. "Okay. Too much information." Then she shook her head and swore. "Nevermind. Tell me anyway."
Donna's alabaster skin pinked deeply. "Let's just say we were both pretty exhausted by morning."
Margaret grabbed her arm. "By morning! Did you stay all night?"
She nodded.
"Did you - did you - ALL night?
"Just about."
"Oh - my - God!"
Confusion swirled around her head, spinning her brain dizzily. "What do I do now, Margaret?" She held out her hands helplessly.
"What do you want to do?"
"What?"
"What do you want to happen next? Donna, how do you feel about him?"
She tilted her head down, but her eyes looked up through the lashes. Drawing a breath, she admitted, "I love him."
"Oh, Donna." A compassionate hand clutched her shoulder.
"Yeah."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Does he feel the same way?"
She shook her head in distress. "I don't know. I haven't told him. I'm afraid that for him it was just - physical. You know, it had been over a year - "
"No wonder - " Margaret mumbled. Donna grinned in embarrassment, then continued.
"Anyway, I'm sure he likes me and he cares about me. He couldn't have been so - he was so gentle at times, so tender - and he made sure that I-" She stopped, unwilling to share too much. "Well, it was special for him, I think, but I don't know about - love."
As they sat quietly for moment, trying to absorb the sheer magnitude of the situation, Donna contemplated the question that was really starting to bother her. "Margaret, what about the press? What if people - found out? Do you think it would be bad?"
Please say no. I can't cause him trouble. The press! Oh, how awful that could be. Yet, a sick churning rose in the pit of her stomach when she entertained the notion of staying away from him so there would be no scandal. I don't want this to end.
Margaret shook her head, eyes wide. "Oh, gee, Donna. Let's see. The President of the United States had sex with a senior staff assistant thirty years his junior IN the White House."
"Doesn't sound so good when you put it that way."
"Could be worse."
"How?"
"You could have done it in the Oval Office." Suddenly, Margaret was all business, sitting tall, in decision-making mode. "Who else knows?"
"Charlie, for sure - and Leo, I think."
"Leo?"
"You know, I think Leo actually set us up. He was the one who suggested to Jed-"
Margaret flinched.
"--to the President that we play Trivial Pursuit."
Margaret looked at her from drawn brows. "Playing Trivial Pursuit - That's not a euphemism for - "
She slapped her friend's shoulder playfully. "No! We really did play Trivial Pursuit."
"How'd you do?"
"I got creamed."
"Literally," Margaret observed, deadpan.
Donna's cheeks burned. "Margaret!"
"Well - This is just - just - wow!"
"What do I do?"
Now, Margaret stood and paced again in front of the bench, arms folded, head down in concentration. "Neither Charlie nor Leo is going to say anything."
"No."
"And no one else has any idea? Josh? Toby?"
"Just you and me." Uh oh. "And I guess the secret service guys that were there when I arrived and when I left."
"They're sworn to secrecy, right?"
"Yeah," she agreed, but she wasn't completely sure.
"You have to act like nothing is different, at least in the office. Don't act suspicious."
What do you mean suspicious? "Like?"
"Like laying one on him next time he walks down the hall! I don't know, just.do what you usually do."
Donna drew up her courage to face another dreadful possibility. "What if - what if he doesn't - say anything about it? What if he acts as if it never happened? What if-" Tears choked her now, and Margaret moved back to the bench and drew her close.
"I think he will. But it's his move, Donna. Give him room. Give him time. Let him come to you."
Donna sniffed, wiping her face with her fingertips. "Yeah. I was afraid you'd say that, but I know that's the only choice. Still-"
"It's hard."
"Yeah."
She sat silently next to her co-conspirator under the trees for a few more minutes. Turmoil roiled inside her, assaulting her with conflicting visions of tender touches dissolving into sensational headlines. What had she done? But more importantly, what would he do? As they rose, Margaret turned to her once more, seeking final confirmation against the spark of disbelief that was not yet completely smothered.
"The President?"
"Yeah."
"Oh - my - God."