POV: Donna
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These are not my characters; I just like to play with them.
In Your Eyes: The Red Rose - Chapter Two A West Wing Story
by MAHC
Donna pulled the note from her drawer for at least the tenth time since she had found it on her desk, nestled gently under a single red rose. It was late afternoon, several hours after her confession to Margaret in LaFayette Park, and she had returned, after filing several papers for Josh, to discover the flower. Now, she ran her fingers over the velvet bud that was just opening before she dropped her gaze to read the message once more.
"'The red rose whispers of passion.' Thank you. -JB"
Even now the words sent warm tremors through her body, both at the sentiment and the memory of that passion. Whatever the previous night had meant to him, he was thoughtful enough to know that she needed some contact, some acknowledgement, even if it was just a physical thing. No, she told herself, don't get into that yet. Remember what Margaret said, what you told yourself. Be patient. Give him time. So, as much as she yearned to rush to him, she stayed put, performed her duties as assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff, and tried to remain at least somewhat satisfied with the heated memories. She just hoped she didn't have to make do on that alone for too long.
"Donna!"
Josh. Great. What timing.
He bellowed again, his voice bouncing from his office into the bullpen. "Donnatella! Where's that Kessler - thing?"
Hoping that her very visual thoughts had not brought too obvious of a blush to her cheeks, she called back to him, putting the usual flippancy in her voice when she traded barbs with her boss. "Kessler thing? Would that be the KesslerTelegram? Or maybe the Kessler Corollary?" She had learned that one from the President when they talked about Teddy Roosevelt. "Perhaps the Kessler Doctrine?"
He swung his body around the corner and hung from the doorframe. "No - the, uh, Kessler - Brief?"
"I thought he wore boxers."
His brow rose. "You, know, one day you're going to be sorry you were so mean to me."
"I don't think so," she decided, but had pity on him. "Judge GLADYS Kessler's ruling on the RICO Act is in the third filing cabinet from the right in the records room."
"Let me guess," he said, hand up to ward off her pending explanation. "Filed under T for tobacco."
She smiled. "P."
"P?"
"Philip Morris, one of the main companies involved."
"Ahh. Good logic."
"I thought so."
He stopped then, a little hesitant, and looked at her. "You okay today?"
Uh oh. Play it off. "Sure. Why?"
His head cocked again. "I don't know. You just looked a little - flushed, that's all. You're not getting sick, are you?"
She shook her head and wished for a cool glass of water.
His fingers tapped the metal. "Good. Hey, some of us are going for pizza later. Wanna come?"
She should go, and not wait around like a love-sick teenager for him to call. He might have meetings, or something else. He just might not call. Go on with your life. But she heard herself saying, "Uh, no. No thanks. I've got - stuff to do."
"Ahkay. Your loss. I will be at my most charming."
"Well, that pretty much validates my decision."
He was already headed down the hall. "Buca di Beppo on Connecticut, 6:30 if you change your mind."
Looking back down at her hand, she caressed the note, then refolded it and shoved it to the back of her top desk drawer.
The next day passed with no contact with the President, even incidentally. He was out most of the morning speaking at various fundraisers and a fireman's convention in New York. By evening, she had made a priority pile on her desk for the next day's consideration and headed out, deciding at the last minute to swing by Margaret's office.
"Hey," Margaret greeted when she saw her enter. "How's it going?"
"Okay." She could not keep from throwing a glance ahead. The door to Leo's office was open and the door past that led directly into the Oval Office. Was he there? What was he doing?
"Yes."
Donna frowned curiously. "What?"
"Yes. He's in there."
"I wasn't -"
"Yes, you were."
"How do you know?"
"I would have been."
She smiled. "Okay. Maybe I was wondering, just a little."
"I could go get him. Tell him Leo needed to see him."
Horrified that her friend might actually do that, Donna grasped her arm, just in case Margaret started for the door. "And what happens when he comes in?"
"I'll say - Leo just stepped out."
"That's the most asinine plan I've ever heard, Margaret."
"It was impromptu. Give me a few minutes and I'll do better."
"You'll do better by dropping that idea." She did admit, though, she would really like for him to come through that door, just to see him again, just for a minute. She lifted her eyes. "Remember, you said to give him time. That's what I'm doing. I'm just - waiting. It's - his move."
Margaret's expression showed significant skepticism, but she shrugged and said, "Okay. You want to get supper?"
Donna thought for a second. Follow your own advice. Just do what you would normally do. You can't sit at home all the time. "Yeah. Okay."
"Great. I've got a few things to take care of-" Before Margaret could get completely back around to her desk, that door opened. That door that was past Leo's door. THAT door. Donna's heart skipped a beat as the President stuck his head through.
"Hey, Leo, I-" He stopped short when he saw the two women staring at him, a broad smile lighting up his face. Donna could tell Margaret knew exactly who that smile was for as she cast sly glances at her. "Uh, hi, ladies," he greeted, stepping into the room. "Is - is Leo around?"
Margaret's lips curled into a mischievous grin as responded and Donna could imagine the mental images her friend was now playing in her head. "No, Sir," she said, "he's in a meeting. But he'll be back by six."
"Oh. Okay." He lingered a bit longer, uncharacteristically quiet, then eased back toward his office. "Well, tell him - I'll catch up with him later." With visible reluctance, he closed the door.
The two women stared at the door for a moment, then at each other. Finally, Margaret broke the silence. "Oh - my - God!"
"You're not going to start that again, are you?"
"Did you see the way he looked at you?"
In truth, she had hoped she wasn't imagining the warm desire she saw in his eyes. Margaret's observation brought a shy smile to her lips, but she feigned ignorance.
"What way?"
"Are you kidding? He looked like he wanted to - If I hadn't been in the room I think he would have - Well, you wouldn't have been vertical for very long."
"Margaret!" Her cheeks burned.
"It was pretty obvious."
Yeah. She had noticed that, too, even though she tried to keep her eyes on his face.
"Are you sure you want to go with me? I mean, he might ask you to-"
"No, you heard him say he was looking for Leo. He'll be busy. Besides," she whispered, grinning, "I wouldn't want to make it too easy."
"You go girl. Listen, give me thirty minutes and I'll be ready, okay?"
She spent the time lowering her priority stack, then headed back to Margaret's office about six-thirty. As she turned the corner just before she got to the outer office area for Oval, she stumbled to a halt. Straight ahead, coming toward her were Leo, Sam, Toby, and - the President. She heard enough bits and pieces of conversation to determine that teacher incentives was the topic. Toby's arm waved animatedly as he drove home his points. A few feet away, she saw the President look ahead and his eyes caught hers. The sudden grin that appeared on his face fell curiously into a frown and he faltered, Leo and Sam fetching up almost on top of him. Almost immediately, though, he recovered and they picked up the pace again, but she was a little disappointed that he didn't say anything as they passed, or even give her another glance. As a matter of fact, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid any contact with her.
She realized with a pang that he didn't want anyone to know about them. Surely that was understandable, even if it was a little ego-bruising. Still, she understood, or at least told herself she did.
The next day, Donna avoided looking at her note too much. Margaret was right. At dinner the previous night, she had told her just to be patient. Men needed time to think, needed to feel like they were taking the lead. Don't push. They had both agreed that this was the prudent course, so it surprised her when her phone rang and the very friend who gave her that advise was suggesting something completely different.
"Hey, I just talked to Charlie and he's free," came the first words.
Donna frowned in confusion. "Charlie's free? For what?"
"Not Charlie, silly. The President."
"Oh."
When she didn't add anything, Margaret said, in a hushed voice, "He's free right now. You've got to talk to him."
"Margaret, weren't you the one who advised me to let him make the next move?"
The voice at the other end grew a little thoughtful. "Okay. I've been thinking about that. Maybe that was ill advised. Sometimes they never make the move, even though they want to."
"Why wouldn't they make the move if they wanted to?"
"They don't know they want to."
Donna pondered that logic, suspecting Margaret might be talking from experience, experience with another high-up official in the West Wing.
Her friend continued. "I think now you go to him. Talk to him."
"He doesn't-"
"Listen, he's a man. Men don't know what to do in these situations. You know he wants - well, you know what he wants."
"What about yesterday? It was obvious he avoided me."
"Oh, Donna. What did you want him to do, push Leo out of the way and take you right there on Mrs. Landingham's desk?"
That vision gave Donna a momentary pause, but she still tried to protest. "I don't know - "
"Charlie's expecting you." The click was final. Donna drew a deep breath and stood, making her way through the corridors, arriving much too soon at the Oval Office. Sure enough, Charlie grinned at her and, without a word, opened the door to the inner sanctuary of the President of the United States.
He sat at his desk, the Resolute Desk, she thought irrelevantly, coat off, sleeves rolled up, tied loosened, glasses perched at the end of his nose. His hair scattered a little over his forehead and one hand rubbed pointedly at his temple, as if he nursed a headache. She cleared her throat quietly and he looked up.
"Donna!" Standing, he dropped the glasses onto the desk and motioned for her to enter. "Come in, come in."
"Mister President." He frowned a little, but she did not change her address. This was, after all, the Oval Office. Also, his hand was not on her breast at the moment.
She stood a little uncertainly, facing him, waiting for him to speak first. His smile stayed, but it was a bit nervous, a bit forced. "How, uh, how's it going?"
She smiled, too, knowing her expression mirrored his. "Good. Good."
"Okay."
Another few seconds passed in silence.
"Hey!" His voice seemed unusually loud in the quiet and he lowered it. "We're finishing details on the new national park. Man, that's exciting."
She nodded. "Yes."
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he continued. "Leo mentioned that Margaret might want to go to the dedication. I didn't know she was so interested in parks."
Donna fought down the giggle that threatened in her throat.
"You two seem to be - friends." Was he fishing for something? "Do you think she'd really want-"
"Mister President." Courage mustered, she didn't even realize she had interrupted him, so focused on what she was going to say that she missed the startled rise of his brow. "I just wanted you to know, Sir, that, although I have confided in one, very loyal friend, who would die before she said a word, you can rely on me not to talk about - well - about - us."
From the surprise on his face, she assumed he hadn't expected that. "What - ah - what do you-"
"I realize you are having to avoid me, Mister President, and I don't want - I don't want you to have to do that. I understand. I'll stay in my own section of the West Wing and-"
"What the hell are you talking about?" There was an edge to his voice that surprised her.
Confused and losing confidence, she sputtered, "Yesterday outside the Oval Office - and the morning - well, the morning - after-"
"Donna," he interrupted, stepping toward her, "I'm sorry I had to - leave so early. You know, I had meetings, and I didn't want to wake you. Did you - did you - get the note?"
She nodded, blushing. "And the rose. It was a lovely gesture."
"What are you talking about, then?"
"Yesterday, when Leo, Toby, Sam and you were---"
His mouth opened in connection. "Ah. Okay, I suppose we need to talk."
She froze. That didn't sound good. Not at all. Whenever people needed to talk, she usually ended up with a broken heart. Okay, keep calm. It could be nothing at all.
"Donna, I-" he began, took a deep breath and stepped a little closer, lowering his voice even though they were the only two people in the room. He tried again. "Donna, I did - avoid you."
Her heart thudded against her chest. Oh man. This was it. This was where he said thanks for the one-nighter, it was fun, but -
"You see - God, how do I say this?"
She tried to keep the tears from her eyes. Just say it, for God's sake.
Turning away, he ran a hand through his hair and exhaled heavily. She saw his shoulders square, then. He was ready to deliver the blow. "Donna, I - couldn't see you - Do you know what I'm saying?"
Sure she did. He had realized that he made a mistake, even though it had been good, incredibly good. Maybe he was afraid of a scandal, or maybe - maybe he was trying to let her down easy. It didn't matter. She didn't respond, couldn't respond for fear she would break into sobs. At least she could take this with dignity. He had never promised her anything. Never said he loved her. Never indicated it would go any further. Take it and leave, she told herself, then lifted her head and braced.
"See, I couldn't see you - there - I couldn't look at you without feeling - "
Without feeling what? Regret? Pity?
He swallowed hard and turned back to her and she was able to see the softness in his eyes, hear the tenderness in his voice. "Without feeling you again, without remembering how soft your skin was against mine, without aching to be - with you."
Oh God! Oh God! Tears clouded her eyes.
Now he laughed faintly, just a breath, really. "And that would have produced a rather embarrassing - reaction right there in the middle of the hallway in front of everybody. I just - I'm sorry, but-"
She stepped toward him quickly, forgetting where she was, shaking her head as she went, unable to say anything verbally, but communicating quite clearly with her smile and her lips that met his, halting the rest of his explanation. She didn't need it, anyway. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her closer, his mouth slipped to her neck, then he pulled her head down to his shoulder and stood still. Joy surged through her.
For a very long time they held each other. Donna tried to memorize each contact point between their bodies - some were easier to focus on than others - so that when they were not together she could still feel him. Finally, his arms relaxed and slid away from her, and he stepped back a bit, looking into her eyes. The warm smile sent a shiver of anticipation and memory through her body.
"So," he said, voice a little rough with emotion, "you're not mad at me anymore?"
The laugh that bubbled up was a reaction to both the rush of relief and the thrill of his touch. "I never was mad, Sir-" His mouth opened, but she amended before he could comment. "-Jed. I was just, well, I was disappointed because I thought you - regretted what happened."
His voice was soft, almost inaudible. "Oh, Donna. I don't regret it. I don't regret it at all."
As if he was unable to stay apart from her, he reached out and drew her close again, his lips on hers, his hands slipping lower to press her against him. Oh my! He needed to stop now.
Margaret's words floated hauntingly in her brain: "Could be worse - you could have done it in the Oval Office."
And he was ready, hard against her. His hands had slipped under her blouse and now ran gently across her breasts, drawing a soft groan from her. She allowed her own fingers to move lower, easing open a shirt button just above his waistband and creeping downward.
"Oh, Jed," she whispered and felt him smile against her mouth. "I'm so glad you don't regret this. Because I want it. I want you. I was afraid- "
His hands slid over her hips and under the slacks. His own hips moved against hers and his voice was hoarse. "Afraid of what?"
Overcome by his touch and the thrill of his actions, she found herself plunging ahead with the encouragement he was giving her. "Afraid you were sorry it happened, and I didn't think I could handle that because I love y- " She stopped, horrified. What had she said? Oh God!
His hot kisses on her neck slowed, then stopped as he drew back slightly, his lips at her ear. Roaming hands halted. For a moment she heard only his breathing. What had she done? How on earth had she let that slip? Oh please, say something. Or maybe not. Maybe don't say anything if it's going to be bad.
He still had not spoken, still held her against him. She wished she could see his face, but was afraid to look. Somewhere in her reeling head, a discreet cough broke through the tense moment.
Jed jerked away like a teenager caught in the school restroom. Donna turned, gasping at the sight of Leo McGarry lingering in the doorway to his office. She tried to read the expression on his face: Amusement warred with horror.
"I'm sorry, Mister President," he said. "I didn't expect-"
"No," mumbled Jed, "I don't imagine you did - " He had steadied his breathing now and moved behind his desk. Donna figured it didn't matter really. Leo wasn't blind.
When he looked up, his face was carefully composed, not revealing any reaction to her inadvertent revelation. Deciding to exercise the better part of valor, she excused herself.
"I was just - leaving," she said.
Leo didn't respond, but as she opened the door, Jed called out quietly, "Goodnight, Donna."
She gave him a tentative smile. "Goodnight, Mister President."
Oh, to be a fly on that wall. She could only imagine the ensuing conversation, and even though she suspected that Leo had arranged their earlier meetings, she wasn't sure he had anticipated this particular development. What was the President - Jed - about to say before Leo came in? Had she ruined everything? Stumbling back to her office, she collapsed into her chair and stared at the rose, its satiny folds opening now. She shoved her hand to the back of the desk drawer and pulled out the note, clutching the words to her heart.
"The red rose whispers of passion. Thank you -- JB"
Passion - not love. Passion. Did she have a right to ask for more? Could he give her more? Or was passion all he offered?
That night, she lay in bed staring at her ceiling, her mind replaying her blunder. Maybe she should just accept what he could give her: the passion - and that was pretty damn good by the way -- and the friendship. But as much as she tried to tell herself that was enough, she knew it wasn't. She loved him. She loved him. And she wanted him to love her.
In Your Eyes: The Red Rose - Chapter Two A West Wing Story
by MAHC
Donna pulled the note from her drawer for at least the tenth time since she had found it on her desk, nestled gently under a single red rose. It was late afternoon, several hours after her confession to Margaret in LaFayette Park, and she had returned, after filing several papers for Josh, to discover the flower. Now, she ran her fingers over the velvet bud that was just opening before she dropped her gaze to read the message once more.
"'The red rose whispers of passion.' Thank you. -JB"
Even now the words sent warm tremors through her body, both at the sentiment and the memory of that passion. Whatever the previous night had meant to him, he was thoughtful enough to know that she needed some contact, some acknowledgement, even if it was just a physical thing. No, she told herself, don't get into that yet. Remember what Margaret said, what you told yourself. Be patient. Give him time. So, as much as she yearned to rush to him, she stayed put, performed her duties as assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff, and tried to remain at least somewhat satisfied with the heated memories. She just hoped she didn't have to make do on that alone for too long.
"Donna!"
Josh. Great. What timing.
He bellowed again, his voice bouncing from his office into the bullpen. "Donnatella! Where's that Kessler - thing?"
Hoping that her very visual thoughts had not brought too obvious of a blush to her cheeks, she called back to him, putting the usual flippancy in her voice when she traded barbs with her boss. "Kessler thing? Would that be the KesslerTelegram? Or maybe the Kessler Corollary?" She had learned that one from the President when they talked about Teddy Roosevelt. "Perhaps the Kessler Doctrine?"
He swung his body around the corner and hung from the doorframe. "No - the, uh, Kessler - Brief?"
"I thought he wore boxers."
His brow rose. "You, know, one day you're going to be sorry you were so mean to me."
"I don't think so," she decided, but had pity on him. "Judge GLADYS Kessler's ruling on the RICO Act is in the third filing cabinet from the right in the records room."
"Let me guess," he said, hand up to ward off her pending explanation. "Filed under T for tobacco."
She smiled. "P."
"P?"
"Philip Morris, one of the main companies involved."
"Ahh. Good logic."
"I thought so."
He stopped then, a little hesitant, and looked at her. "You okay today?"
Uh oh. Play it off. "Sure. Why?"
His head cocked again. "I don't know. You just looked a little - flushed, that's all. You're not getting sick, are you?"
She shook her head and wished for a cool glass of water.
His fingers tapped the metal. "Good. Hey, some of us are going for pizza later. Wanna come?"
She should go, and not wait around like a love-sick teenager for him to call. He might have meetings, or something else. He just might not call. Go on with your life. But she heard herself saying, "Uh, no. No thanks. I've got - stuff to do."
"Ahkay. Your loss. I will be at my most charming."
"Well, that pretty much validates my decision."
He was already headed down the hall. "Buca di Beppo on Connecticut, 6:30 if you change your mind."
Looking back down at her hand, she caressed the note, then refolded it and shoved it to the back of her top desk drawer.
The next day passed with no contact with the President, even incidentally. He was out most of the morning speaking at various fundraisers and a fireman's convention in New York. By evening, she had made a priority pile on her desk for the next day's consideration and headed out, deciding at the last minute to swing by Margaret's office.
"Hey," Margaret greeted when she saw her enter. "How's it going?"
"Okay." She could not keep from throwing a glance ahead. The door to Leo's office was open and the door past that led directly into the Oval Office. Was he there? What was he doing?
"Yes."
Donna frowned curiously. "What?"
"Yes. He's in there."
"I wasn't -"
"Yes, you were."
"How do you know?"
"I would have been."
She smiled. "Okay. Maybe I was wondering, just a little."
"I could go get him. Tell him Leo needed to see him."
Horrified that her friend might actually do that, Donna grasped her arm, just in case Margaret started for the door. "And what happens when he comes in?"
"I'll say - Leo just stepped out."
"That's the most asinine plan I've ever heard, Margaret."
"It was impromptu. Give me a few minutes and I'll do better."
"You'll do better by dropping that idea." She did admit, though, she would really like for him to come through that door, just to see him again, just for a minute. She lifted her eyes. "Remember, you said to give him time. That's what I'm doing. I'm just - waiting. It's - his move."
Margaret's expression showed significant skepticism, but she shrugged and said, "Okay. You want to get supper?"
Donna thought for a second. Follow your own advice. Just do what you would normally do. You can't sit at home all the time. "Yeah. Okay."
"Great. I've got a few things to take care of-" Before Margaret could get completely back around to her desk, that door opened. That door that was past Leo's door. THAT door. Donna's heart skipped a beat as the President stuck his head through.
"Hey, Leo, I-" He stopped short when he saw the two women staring at him, a broad smile lighting up his face. Donna could tell Margaret knew exactly who that smile was for as she cast sly glances at her. "Uh, hi, ladies," he greeted, stepping into the room. "Is - is Leo around?"
Margaret's lips curled into a mischievous grin as responded and Donna could imagine the mental images her friend was now playing in her head. "No, Sir," she said, "he's in a meeting. But he'll be back by six."
"Oh. Okay." He lingered a bit longer, uncharacteristically quiet, then eased back toward his office. "Well, tell him - I'll catch up with him later." With visible reluctance, he closed the door.
The two women stared at the door for a moment, then at each other. Finally, Margaret broke the silence. "Oh - my - God!"
"You're not going to start that again, are you?"
"Did you see the way he looked at you?"
In truth, she had hoped she wasn't imagining the warm desire she saw in his eyes. Margaret's observation brought a shy smile to her lips, but she feigned ignorance.
"What way?"
"Are you kidding? He looked like he wanted to - If I hadn't been in the room I think he would have - Well, you wouldn't have been vertical for very long."
"Margaret!" Her cheeks burned.
"It was pretty obvious."
Yeah. She had noticed that, too, even though she tried to keep her eyes on his face.
"Are you sure you want to go with me? I mean, he might ask you to-"
"No, you heard him say he was looking for Leo. He'll be busy. Besides," she whispered, grinning, "I wouldn't want to make it too easy."
"You go girl. Listen, give me thirty minutes and I'll be ready, okay?"
She spent the time lowering her priority stack, then headed back to Margaret's office about six-thirty. As she turned the corner just before she got to the outer office area for Oval, she stumbled to a halt. Straight ahead, coming toward her were Leo, Sam, Toby, and - the President. She heard enough bits and pieces of conversation to determine that teacher incentives was the topic. Toby's arm waved animatedly as he drove home his points. A few feet away, she saw the President look ahead and his eyes caught hers. The sudden grin that appeared on his face fell curiously into a frown and he faltered, Leo and Sam fetching up almost on top of him. Almost immediately, though, he recovered and they picked up the pace again, but she was a little disappointed that he didn't say anything as they passed, or even give her another glance. As a matter of fact, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid any contact with her.
She realized with a pang that he didn't want anyone to know about them. Surely that was understandable, even if it was a little ego-bruising. Still, she understood, or at least told herself she did.
The next day, Donna avoided looking at her note too much. Margaret was right. At dinner the previous night, she had told her just to be patient. Men needed time to think, needed to feel like they were taking the lead. Don't push. They had both agreed that this was the prudent course, so it surprised her when her phone rang and the very friend who gave her that advise was suggesting something completely different.
"Hey, I just talked to Charlie and he's free," came the first words.
Donna frowned in confusion. "Charlie's free? For what?"
"Not Charlie, silly. The President."
"Oh."
When she didn't add anything, Margaret said, in a hushed voice, "He's free right now. You've got to talk to him."
"Margaret, weren't you the one who advised me to let him make the next move?"
The voice at the other end grew a little thoughtful. "Okay. I've been thinking about that. Maybe that was ill advised. Sometimes they never make the move, even though they want to."
"Why wouldn't they make the move if they wanted to?"
"They don't know they want to."
Donna pondered that logic, suspecting Margaret might be talking from experience, experience with another high-up official in the West Wing.
Her friend continued. "I think now you go to him. Talk to him."
"He doesn't-"
"Listen, he's a man. Men don't know what to do in these situations. You know he wants - well, you know what he wants."
"What about yesterday? It was obvious he avoided me."
"Oh, Donna. What did you want him to do, push Leo out of the way and take you right there on Mrs. Landingham's desk?"
That vision gave Donna a momentary pause, but she still tried to protest. "I don't know - "
"Charlie's expecting you." The click was final. Donna drew a deep breath and stood, making her way through the corridors, arriving much too soon at the Oval Office. Sure enough, Charlie grinned at her and, without a word, opened the door to the inner sanctuary of the President of the United States.
He sat at his desk, the Resolute Desk, she thought irrelevantly, coat off, sleeves rolled up, tied loosened, glasses perched at the end of his nose. His hair scattered a little over his forehead and one hand rubbed pointedly at his temple, as if he nursed a headache. She cleared her throat quietly and he looked up.
"Donna!" Standing, he dropped the glasses onto the desk and motioned for her to enter. "Come in, come in."
"Mister President." He frowned a little, but she did not change her address. This was, after all, the Oval Office. Also, his hand was not on her breast at the moment.
She stood a little uncertainly, facing him, waiting for him to speak first. His smile stayed, but it was a bit nervous, a bit forced. "How, uh, how's it going?"
She smiled, too, knowing her expression mirrored his. "Good. Good."
"Okay."
Another few seconds passed in silence.
"Hey!" His voice seemed unusually loud in the quiet and he lowered it. "We're finishing details on the new national park. Man, that's exciting."
She nodded. "Yes."
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he continued. "Leo mentioned that Margaret might want to go to the dedication. I didn't know she was so interested in parks."
Donna fought down the giggle that threatened in her throat.
"You two seem to be - friends." Was he fishing for something? "Do you think she'd really want-"
"Mister President." Courage mustered, she didn't even realize she had interrupted him, so focused on what she was going to say that she missed the startled rise of his brow. "I just wanted you to know, Sir, that, although I have confided in one, very loyal friend, who would die before she said a word, you can rely on me not to talk about - well - about - us."
From the surprise on his face, she assumed he hadn't expected that. "What - ah - what do you-"
"I realize you are having to avoid me, Mister President, and I don't want - I don't want you to have to do that. I understand. I'll stay in my own section of the West Wing and-"
"What the hell are you talking about?" There was an edge to his voice that surprised her.
Confused and losing confidence, she sputtered, "Yesterday outside the Oval Office - and the morning - well, the morning - after-"
"Donna," he interrupted, stepping toward her, "I'm sorry I had to - leave so early. You know, I had meetings, and I didn't want to wake you. Did you - did you - get the note?"
She nodded, blushing. "And the rose. It was a lovely gesture."
"What are you talking about, then?"
"Yesterday, when Leo, Toby, Sam and you were---"
His mouth opened in connection. "Ah. Okay, I suppose we need to talk."
She froze. That didn't sound good. Not at all. Whenever people needed to talk, she usually ended up with a broken heart. Okay, keep calm. It could be nothing at all.
"Donna, I-" he began, took a deep breath and stepped a little closer, lowering his voice even though they were the only two people in the room. He tried again. "Donna, I did - avoid you."
Her heart thudded against her chest. Oh man. This was it. This was where he said thanks for the one-nighter, it was fun, but -
"You see - God, how do I say this?"
She tried to keep the tears from her eyes. Just say it, for God's sake.
Turning away, he ran a hand through his hair and exhaled heavily. She saw his shoulders square, then. He was ready to deliver the blow. "Donna, I - couldn't see you - Do you know what I'm saying?"
Sure she did. He had realized that he made a mistake, even though it had been good, incredibly good. Maybe he was afraid of a scandal, or maybe - maybe he was trying to let her down easy. It didn't matter. She didn't respond, couldn't respond for fear she would break into sobs. At least she could take this with dignity. He had never promised her anything. Never said he loved her. Never indicated it would go any further. Take it and leave, she told herself, then lifted her head and braced.
"See, I couldn't see you - there - I couldn't look at you without feeling - "
Without feeling what? Regret? Pity?
He swallowed hard and turned back to her and she was able to see the softness in his eyes, hear the tenderness in his voice. "Without feeling you again, without remembering how soft your skin was against mine, without aching to be - with you."
Oh God! Oh God! Tears clouded her eyes.
Now he laughed faintly, just a breath, really. "And that would have produced a rather embarrassing - reaction right there in the middle of the hallway in front of everybody. I just - I'm sorry, but-"
She stepped toward him quickly, forgetting where she was, shaking her head as she went, unable to say anything verbally, but communicating quite clearly with her smile and her lips that met his, halting the rest of his explanation. She didn't need it, anyway. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her closer, his mouth slipped to her neck, then he pulled her head down to his shoulder and stood still. Joy surged through her.
For a very long time they held each other. Donna tried to memorize each contact point between their bodies - some were easier to focus on than others - so that when they were not together she could still feel him. Finally, his arms relaxed and slid away from her, and he stepped back a bit, looking into her eyes. The warm smile sent a shiver of anticipation and memory through her body.
"So," he said, voice a little rough with emotion, "you're not mad at me anymore?"
The laugh that bubbled up was a reaction to both the rush of relief and the thrill of his touch. "I never was mad, Sir-" His mouth opened, but she amended before he could comment. "-Jed. I was just, well, I was disappointed because I thought you - regretted what happened."
His voice was soft, almost inaudible. "Oh, Donna. I don't regret it. I don't regret it at all."
As if he was unable to stay apart from her, he reached out and drew her close again, his lips on hers, his hands slipping lower to press her against him. Oh my! He needed to stop now.
Margaret's words floated hauntingly in her brain: "Could be worse - you could have done it in the Oval Office."
And he was ready, hard against her. His hands had slipped under her blouse and now ran gently across her breasts, drawing a soft groan from her. She allowed her own fingers to move lower, easing open a shirt button just above his waistband and creeping downward.
"Oh, Jed," she whispered and felt him smile against her mouth. "I'm so glad you don't regret this. Because I want it. I want you. I was afraid- "
His hands slid over her hips and under the slacks. His own hips moved against hers and his voice was hoarse. "Afraid of what?"
Overcome by his touch and the thrill of his actions, she found herself plunging ahead with the encouragement he was giving her. "Afraid you were sorry it happened, and I didn't think I could handle that because I love y- " She stopped, horrified. What had she said? Oh God!
His hot kisses on her neck slowed, then stopped as he drew back slightly, his lips at her ear. Roaming hands halted. For a moment she heard only his breathing. What had she done? How on earth had she let that slip? Oh please, say something. Or maybe not. Maybe don't say anything if it's going to be bad.
He still had not spoken, still held her against him. She wished she could see his face, but was afraid to look. Somewhere in her reeling head, a discreet cough broke through the tense moment.
Jed jerked away like a teenager caught in the school restroom. Donna turned, gasping at the sight of Leo McGarry lingering in the doorway to his office. She tried to read the expression on his face: Amusement warred with horror.
"I'm sorry, Mister President," he said. "I didn't expect-"
"No," mumbled Jed, "I don't imagine you did - " He had steadied his breathing now and moved behind his desk. Donna figured it didn't matter really. Leo wasn't blind.
When he looked up, his face was carefully composed, not revealing any reaction to her inadvertent revelation. Deciding to exercise the better part of valor, she excused herself.
"I was just - leaving," she said.
Leo didn't respond, but as she opened the door, Jed called out quietly, "Goodnight, Donna."
She gave him a tentative smile. "Goodnight, Mister President."
Oh, to be a fly on that wall. She could only imagine the ensuing conversation, and even though she suspected that Leo had arranged their earlier meetings, she wasn't sure he had anticipated this particular development. What was the President - Jed - about to say before Leo came in? Had she ruined everything? Stumbling back to her office, she collapsed into her chair and stared at the rose, its satiny folds opening now. She shoved her hand to the back of the desk drawer and pulled out the note, clutching the words to her heart.
"The red rose whispers of passion. Thank you -- JB"
Passion - not love. Passion. Did she have a right to ask for more? Could he give her more? Or was passion all he offered?
That night, she lay in bed staring at her ceiling, her mind replaying her blunder. Maybe she should just accept what he could give her: the passion - and that was pretty damn good by the way -- and the friendship. But as much as she tried to tell herself that was enough, she knew it wasn't. She loved him. She loved him. And she wanted him to love her.