This is the last chapter in this story of the "As I Was Drifting Away"
series. Thanks for reading.
POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: PG Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I just enjoy borrowing them from time to time.
Some Say - Chapter Three A West Wing Story
by MAHC
Donna Moss sat at her desk, the anxiety itching, crawling over her skin. She had not slept with him for two nights, had stayed at home, made excuses about work, about propriety. After C.J. had stunned them with the Washington Post story, she needed space, needed to think by herself without him near. The Star she had been ready for; the Post was a whole new ballgame. Thank goodness the article had not named her specifically; it mentioned only a senior staffer, which was close, but not completely accurate. Although more subtle than The Star, the more reputable paper still hinted at a long-term affair. Donna knew the administration could not ignore such a blatant accusation.
So she waited. Waited to see what Jed, Leo, and C.J. decided. Waited for some signal that would let her determine her own actions, or reactions.
But now she also waited for something else. Waited for a phone call. Margaret had helped, had gone for her just in case anyone was watching, had taken the sample. One more complication, one more horrible complication. And what would she do? She didn't know. She seriously didn't know.
Sneaking up on her, albeit unintentionally, Margaret leaned into Donna's office and spoke, startling her friend.
"Hey."
"Oh!" She tried to shake off the heavy burden from her shoulders, but figured Margaret saw through the feeble attempt.
"Anything?"
"No."
"Okay. He needs to see you."
She knew who he was, but asked anyway. "Who?"
Margaret smiled, attempting to bring some levity to the situation. "Your boyfriend."
"Margaret!"
The taller woman shrugged. "Well, he is. It seems so weird saying 'the President wants you' and knowing there are many levels to that statement."
Donna colored. "Margaret!"
"Charlie asked me to find you and send you to the Oval Office."
She bit her lip and couldn't suppress the surge of adrenaline that coursed through her body.
"Donna, you okay? You really haven't heard?" Now her friend's face lost its teasing and fell into serious lines.
"Yeah. No. I -" Suddenly, she wanted to let go, to tell someone what she had kept to herself for two days. Margaret knew just about all of it, anyway. "Margaret, he asked me-"
She didn't have to finish. The other woman comprehended and gasped, clutching Donna's shoulders. "He asked?"
She nodded, smiling now through welling tears.
"He asked."
"Yeah."
"When?"
"When what?"
"When did he ask?"
"A couple of nights ago, before-" She blushed. "Well, a couple of nights ago."
Margaret grinned at the embarrassment. "And you said?"
"I said yes. But Margaret, what if-"
Her friend shook her head. "Worry about that if and when." Then her mouth dropped and the fingers tightened around her shoulders. "Donna, do realize this means you'll be First Lady?"
The revelation floored her. In an instant she knew that would certainly be true, but the thought brought a sick sensation to the pit of her stomach. The First Lady? And how could she be First Lady if-"
"Oh, Margaret," she groaned. "The First Lady! I can't be the First Lady. The First Lady is - the First Lady is Abigail Bartlet."
And even though she knew her friend supported her, had confidence in her, Margaret's eyes revealed the same feeling. How could she be expected to match the elegance, the confidence, the style of Abbey Bartlet? How could she be the First Lady of the United States? Especially if-
At that moment, the phone rang, jerking her body toward it and her mind away from it. Maybe she should just not answer it. Maybe if she didn't she wouldn't have to deal with what might be waiting for her on the other end. Maybe-
Margaret lifted the receiver, answered for her, then extended her hand. After a moment, Donna took it, identifying herself and listening to the information, hearing the words she knew she would hear, trying to absorb their significance. She heard herself responding, acknowledging. Then the phone was somehow back on the cradle.
And just like that her world turned upside down. She sat, stunned, heartsick. Oh, God. What should she do? What could she do?
Margaret watched her quietly, not asking, not needing to ask. It was written all over her. Finally, her friend touched her shoulder, waiting for a long moment before reminding her, "He needs to see you."
With effort, Donna pulled away from spider's lair in which she had become entwined and took a deep breath. Throwing a final glance at her friend, she headed toward the Oval Office, suddenly and completely uncertain.
Jed Bartlet paced. Not that that was unusual. He frequently paced for various reasons. When he was worried. When he was stressed. When he was impatient. When he was thinking. Now, it was entirely possible that he paced for all of those reasons. And all Donna could do was watch. She couldn't step in front of him to break the movement. Couldn't touch his hand to draw his attention. Couldn't make him sit on the couch so she could knead the tension from his tight shoulders. Couldn't run her hands over his chest to distract him toward other activities.
She wanted to. She wanted to talk with him alone. Wanted to go away somewhere with him and never come back. Wanted to - But she couldn't do any of these things because he paced in the Oval Office. He paced in a room full of staff members. So she sat and watched him pace and wished she could help.
But then, he didn't really need her help. After all, she was the problem, wasn't she? And now even more than he could have imagined. The it suddenly occurred to her that she could help. But what a price it would be. She wasn't sure at all if she could actually do it, or survive it if she did.
"Mister President," C.J. offered, apparently trying to stop the monotonous movement herself.
It worked, at least momentarily. He stopped and looked at her expectantly.
"We could just let it go. Ignore it. Treat it as a non-story."
Leo shook his head. "It's a story. Once the Post ran it, it was a story. Maybe not before, but now-"
Before anyone could offer another opinion, Josh bounded in, infusing the room with his energy. At that moment, even Toby's sour countenance seemed to lighten minutely. Jed looked up, eyes amused, despite the worry.
"Never fear," the deputy chief of staff announced, arms wide, head thrown back. "We're on this, Mister President. This absurd rumor is history. Or at least it will be after Joshua Lyman puts it to bed-" He stopped abruptly, realizing his regrettable choice of words. "-so to speak."
"Josh-"
"No, C.J. This whole thing is so ridiculous. I mean, you dealt with this in the pressroom, told them there's nothing to it. Then the Post reports that the President-" Here he nodded in deference to his Chief Executive, his eyes apologetic. "-the President is involved with a staff member and possibly was having an affair before-" Again, he grimaced and couldn't finish.
But the President understood. He sighed, running a hand through his hair so that when it fell back, it scattered over his forehead. "Okay. Let's just clear the air with this now."
Donna started. What? What did he mean, 'let's just clear the air?' No! She had to talk with him first.
Rushing to assure the President, Josh began, "Sir, just let me say that surely you know we don't believe any of this. It's crazy! I mean we know how devoted you were to - I mean, we'd never believe that - Well, you don't have to defend yourself to us, Mister President."
The smile on Jed's face was ironic. "Thank you, Josh," he acknowledged, but Donna saw his mouth tighten. "Of course, behind every rumor there is almost always a thread of truth."
Toby, who had been visibly detached from the conversation, now cut his eyes toward the President in interest. Donna heard the alarms ringing behind the carefully smooth façade.
"Sir?" he asked simply, but the question searched for much more, and Jed knew it.
Steeling himself, the President said, "Just so you'll know, I never cheated on Abbey in almost thirty-five years of marriage. I could never have done that."
They sat quietly, none of them doubting this certainty.
"She would have killed me," he noted.
Now the smile crept onto his lips and Donna saw similar flicks of amusement mirrored on the faces of the staff. Leo especially seemed to connect with this comment and Donna figured it was not too far from the truth.
"Anyway," Jed continued, pacing a little again, despite C.J.'s earlier success. "There is absolutely no truth to that particular part of the rumor. However-"
At his pause, the room froze. Four people in there now knew what he was going to say. Two people did not. She saw Josh look toward her. If he wondered what she was doing in there, he didn't ask.
"In the past few months, I have grown close to someone. And yes, the Post is correct in identifying that someone as a White House staffer."
C.J. pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Leo glued his eyes to the floor. Toby stroked his beard. Josh sat, mouth dropping open.
Jed gave them a moment to absorb that before he spoke again. "I must tell you, without getting too corny, that this person has become quite special to me."
Tears shone in Donna's eyes and she tried to wipe them away without drawing attention to herself. But C.J. saw, and Leo. Please stop, she pleaded silently. Please wait. Let me talk with you. Jed still had not looked at her, had turned his back to them and peered out the large window behind his desk. Toby and Josh sat, backs straight, jaws tight, waiting.
"In fact," he added, still facing outside, "I love her very much."
Oh, God. She had to hold together. Had to do what was necessary. But how? Now, he turned and made a bold step toward her, extending a hand, palm up, for her to take. After only a brief hesitation, during which she contemplated the agony of what she was about to do, she took it, looking into his eyes for the first time since they had come into the room. In those eyes, she saw the love he had professed, heard the whispers of passion he had expressed, felt the tingle of his hands on her body, all over her body. It tore her apart.
"What do you think?" he asked softly, ignoring the shocked, open-mouthed stares from the rest of the room.
She felt sick, literally sick. Taking deep breaths, she tried to speak, found herself stuttering and stopped before she fell completely apart. "I - I - " She turned to face the flabbergasted group. "Could - could we have a minute?"
No one moved. Not a person budged, but she knew it wasn't because they refused to. They simply were too stunned to comprehend her request, except for C.J. and Leo. Now Jed realized something was wrong, because his voice broke through to them.
"I need the room, please."
Josh and Toby snapped back, rising and nodding, still in confusion, but at least coherent enough to move. Leo caught her eye and she had to pull away, couldn't contemplate the fear and accusation she saw there. Maybe he suspected. Maybe he could read her body language and knew something had happened. Something that wasn't good. His words returned to her. "I won't stand by and see him used." No, she wasn't doing that. Just the opposite. She was sacrificing for him, for the country. Breaking her own heart doing it.
C.J. threw a sympathetic glance her way. When the room cleared and the door shut behind the last person, Jed touched her chin, drew her face around to meet his. "Donna, what is it? What's wrong?"
How could she tell him? His eyes betrayed a wariness, a fear, even, in anticipation of her words. But she had to, for his sake, for the country's sake. It would be terrible for him if she didn't. And she couldn't see him hurt, see him suffer again. How could she not have considered the possibility, the magnitude?
"Jed," she began, pulling his hand away, trying to distance herself from the heat of his touch, the electricity of his closeness. "Jed, I - I - can't do this. I can't-"
Now his eyes narrowed, his body tensed, and he leaned toward her. "You can't do what?"
"I can't - we can't - Jed, it just won't work." She couldn't tell him, couldn't see his disappointment in her, his suspicion. Blindly, she grasped at a reason, at some logical escape. "Do you realize I'll be First Lady? What an absurd notion. We didn't think about that. Didn't consider what that impact would be. My God, Jed, can you imagine me as First Lady?" She was shaking now with the emotion, trembling at the horrible comprehension in his eyes.
"What - what are you saying, Donna?" His tone clearly said he didn't really want to hear her answer.
"I'm saying - I'm saying we can't do this. We can't be together. We can't - marry. We just can't, Jed. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Tears gushed down her cheeks at the devastation that fell across his face.
"Donna-" he choked, eyes shining, hands reaching for her.
"I - I can't! I can't let them - I can't live up to - you deserve - you deserve - Abbey."
His fingers fell away as she stepped back. "I don't have Abbey. Donna, I need - I need you! Don't you know that?" His eyes had darkened, grayed with despair. "This doesn't make sense. There must be something else. What else? What else is wrong?"
He knew her. Knew her well enough to tell. The truth bubbled in her throat, pushed toward her mouth, but she clamped down, forced it back. Heart breaking, she shook her head and pulled away, and it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.
"Please," she gasped, then turned and fled through the doors, past Charlie, hating herself for being so stupid, hating Jed for loving her and making her feel so wonderful, hating the world for making it so complicated, so hard. She heard him call her name, but didn't stop, couldn't stop.
Somehow she made it home. Somehow she fumbled with the lock, with the doorknob. Somehow she stumbled to her bed and collapsed onto it, sobs wracking her body until she found herself crumpled on the bathroom floor vomiting into the toilet.
She had to do it. For the country, for him. It was the only way. It was all she could have done.
But, oh, what had she done?
POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: PG Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I just enjoy borrowing them from time to time.
Some Say - Chapter Three A West Wing Story
by MAHC
Donna Moss sat at her desk, the anxiety itching, crawling over her skin. She had not slept with him for two nights, had stayed at home, made excuses about work, about propriety. After C.J. had stunned them with the Washington Post story, she needed space, needed to think by herself without him near. The Star she had been ready for; the Post was a whole new ballgame. Thank goodness the article had not named her specifically; it mentioned only a senior staffer, which was close, but not completely accurate. Although more subtle than The Star, the more reputable paper still hinted at a long-term affair. Donna knew the administration could not ignore such a blatant accusation.
So she waited. Waited to see what Jed, Leo, and C.J. decided. Waited for some signal that would let her determine her own actions, or reactions.
But now she also waited for something else. Waited for a phone call. Margaret had helped, had gone for her just in case anyone was watching, had taken the sample. One more complication, one more horrible complication. And what would she do? She didn't know. She seriously didn't know.
Sneaking up on her, albeit unintentionally, Margaret leaned into Donna's office and spoke, startling her friend.
"Hey."
"Oh!" She tried to shake off the heavy burden from her shoulders, but figured Margaret saw through the feeble attempt.
"Anything?"
"No."
"Okay. He needs to see you."
She knew who he was, but asked anyway. "Who?"
Margaret smiled, attempting to bring some levity to the situation. "Your boyfriend."
"Margaret!"
The taller woman shrugged. "Well, he is. It seems so weird saying 'the President wants you' and knowing there are many levels to that statement."
Donna colored. "Margaret!"
"Charlie asked me to find you and send you to the Oval Office."
She bit her lip and couldn't suppress the surge of adrenaline that coursed through her body.
"Donna, you okay? You really haven't heard?" Now her friend's face lost its teasing and fell into serious lines.
"Yeah. No. I -" Suddenly, she wanted to let go, to tell someone what she had kept to herself for two days. Margaret knew just about all of it, anyway. "Margaret, he asked me-"
She didn't have to finish. The other woman comprehended and gasped, clutching Donna's shoulders. "He asked?"
She nodded, smiling now through welling tears.
"He asked."
"Yeah."
"When?"
"When what?"
"When did he ask?"
"A couple of nights ago, before-" She blushed. "Well, a couple of nights ago."
Margaret grinned at the embarrassment. "And you said?"
"I said yes. But Margaret, what if-"
Her friend shook her head. "Worry about that if and when." Then her mouth dropped and the fingers tightened around her shoulders. "Donna, do realize this means you'll be First Lady?"
The revelation floored her. In an instant she knew that would certainly be true, but the thought brought a sick sensation to the pit of her stomach. The First Lady? And how could she be First Lady if-"
"Oh, Margaret," she groaned. "The First Lady! I can't be the First Lady. The First Lady is - the First Lady is Abigail Bartlet."
And even though she knew her friend supported her, had confidence in her, Margaret's eyes revealed the same feeling. How could she be expected to match the elegance, the confidence, the style of Abbey Bartlet? How could she be the First Lady of the United States? Especially if-
At that moment, the phone rang, jerking her body toward it and her mind away from it. Maybe she should just not answer it. Maybe if she didn't she wouldn't have to deal with what might be waiting for her on the other end. Maybe-
Margaret lifted the receiver, answered for her, then extended her hand. After a moment, Donna took it, identifying herself and listening to the information, hearing the words she knew she would hear, trying to absorb their significance. She heard herself responding, acknowledging. Then the phone was somehow back on the cradle.
And just like that her world turned upside down. She sat, stunned, heartsick. Oh, God. What should she do? What could she do?
Margaret watched her quietly, not asking, not needing to ask. It was written all over her. Finally, her friend touched her shoulder, waiting for a long moment before reminding her, "He needs to see you."
With effort, Donna pulled away from spider's lair in which she had become entwined and took a deep breath. Throwing a final glance at her friend, she headed toward the Oval Office, suddenly and completely uncertain.
Jed Bartlet paced. Not that that was unusual. He frequently paced for various reasons. When he was worried. When he was stressed. When he was impatient. When he was thinking. Now, it was entirely possible that he paced for all of those reasons. And all Donna could do was watch. She couldn't step in front of him to break the movement. Couldn't touch his hand to draw his attention. Couldn't make him sit on the couch so she could knead the tension from his tight shoulders. Couldn't run her hands over his chest to distract him toward other activities.
She wanted to. She wanted to talk with him alone. Wanted to go away somewhere with him and never come back. Wanted to - But she couldn't do any of these things because he paced in the Oval Office. He paced in a room full of staff members. So she sat and watched him pace and wished she could help.
But then, he didn't really need her help. After all, she was the problem, wasn't she? And now even more than he could have imagined. The it suddenly occurred to her that she could help. But what a price it would be. She wasn't sure at all if she could actually do it, or survive it if she did.
"Mister President," C.J. offered, apparently trying to stop the monotonous movement herself.
It worked, at least momentarily. He stopped and looked at her expectantly.
"We could just let it go. Ignore it. Treat it as a non-story."
Leo shook his head. "It's a story. Once the Post ran it, it was a story. Maybe not before, but now-"
Before anyone could offer another opinion, Josh bounded in, infusing the room with his energy. At that moment, even Toby's sour countenance seemed to lighten minutely. Jed looked up, eyes amused, despite the worry.
"Never fear," the deputy chief of staff announced, arms wide, head thrown back. "We're on this, Mister President. This absurd rumor is history. Or at least it will be after Joshua Lyman puts it to bed-" He stopped abruptly, realizing his regrettable choice of words. "-so to speak."
"Josh-"
"No, C.J. This whole thing is so ridiculous. I mean, you dealt with this in the pressroom, told them there's nothing to it. Then the Post reports that the President-" Here he nodded in deference to his Chief Executive, his eyes apologetic. "-the President is involved with a staff member and possibly was having an affair before-" Again, he grimaced and couldn't finish.
But the President understood. He sighed, running a hand through his hair so that when it fell back, it scattered over his forehead. "Okay. Let's just clear the air with this now."
Donna started. What? What did he mean, 'let's just clear the air?' No! She had to talk with him first.
Rushing to assure the President, Josh began, "Sir, just let me say that surely you know we don't believe any of this. It's crazy! I mean we know how devoted you were to - I mean, we'd never believe that - Well, you don't have to defend yourself to us, Mister President."
The smile on Jed's face was ironic. "Thank you, Josh," he acknowledged, but Donna saw his mouth tighten. "Of course, behind every rumor there is almost always a thread of truth."
Toby, who had been visibly detached from the conversation, now cut his eyes toward the President in interest. Donna heard the alarms ringing behind the carefully smooth façade.
"Sir?" he asked simply, but the question searched for much more, and Jed knew it.
Steeling himself, the President said, "Just so you'll know, I never cheated on Abbey in almost thirty-five years of marriage. I could never have done that."
They sat quietly, none of them doubting this certainty.
"She would have killed me," he noted.
Now the smile crept onto his lips and Donna saw similar flicks of amusement mirrored on the faces of the staff. Leo especially seemed to connect with this comment and Donna figured it was not too far from the truth.
"Anyway," Jed continued, pacing a little again, despite C.J.'s earlier success. "There is absolutely no truth to that particular part of the rumor. However-"
At his pause, the room froze. Four people in there now knew what he was going to say. Two people did not. She saw Josh look toward her. If he wondered what she was doing in there, he didn't ask.
"In the past few months, I have grown close to someone. And yes, the Post is correct in identifying that someone as a White House staffer."
C.J. pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Leo glued his eyes to the floor. Toby stroked his beard. Josh sat, mouth dropping open.
Jed gave them a moment to absorb that before he spoke again. "I must tell you, without getting too corny, that this person has become quite special to me."
Tears shone in Donna's eyes and she tried to wipe them away without drawing attention to herself. But C.J. saw, and Leo. Please stop, she pleaded silently. Please wait. Let me talk with you. Jed still had not looked at her, had turned his back to them and peered out the large window behind his desk. Toby and Josh sat, backs straight, jaws tight, waiting.
"In fact," he added, still facing outside, "I love her very much."
Oh, God. She had to hold together. Had to do what was necessary. But how? Now, he turned and made a bold step toward her, extending a hand, palm up, for her to take. After only a brief hesitation, during which she contemplated the agony of what she was about to do, she took it, looking into his eyes for the first time since they had come into the room. In those eyes, she saw the love he had professed, heard the whispers of passion he had expressed, felt the tingle of his hands on her body, all over her body. It tore her apart.
"What do you think?" he asked softly, ignoring the shocked, open-mouthed stares from the rest of the room.
She felt sick, literally sick. Taking deep breaths, she tried to speak, found herself stuttering and stopped before she fell completely apart. "I - I - " She turned to face the flabbergasted group. "Could - could we have a minute?"
No one moved. Not a person budged, but she knew it wasn't because they refused to. They simply were too stunned to comprehend her request, except for C.J. and Leo. Now Jed realized something was wrong, because his voice broke through to them.
"I need the room, please."
Josh and Toby snapped back, rising and nodding, still in confusion, but at least coherent enough to move. Leo caught her eye and she had to pull away, couldn't contemplate the fear and accusation she saw there. Maybe he suspected. Maybe he could read her body language and knew something had happened. Something that wasn't good. His words returned to her. "I won't stand by and see him used." No, she wasn't doing that. Just the opposite. She was sacrificing for him, for the country. Breaking her own heart doing it.
C.J. threw a sympathetic glance her way. When the room cleared and the door shut behind the last person, Jed touched her chin, drew her face around to meet his. "Donna, what is it? What's wrong?"
How could she tell him? His eyes betrayed a wariness, a fear, even, in anticipation of her words. But she had to, for his sake, for the country's sake. It would be terrible for him if she didn't. And she couldn't see him hurt, see him suffer again. How could she not have considered the possibility, the magnitude?
"Jed," she began, pulling his hand away, trying to distance herself from the heat of his touch, the electricity of his closeness. "Jed, I - I - can't do this. I can't-"
Now his eyes narrowed, his body tensed, and he leaned toward her. "You can't do what?"
"I can't - we can't - Jed, it just won't work." She couldn't tell him, couldn't see his disappointment in her, his suspicion. Blindly, she grasped at a reason, at some logical escape. "Do you realize I'll be First Lady? What an absurd notion. We didn't think about that. Didn't consider what that impact would be. My God, Jed, can you imagine me as First Lady?" She was shaking now with the emotion, trembling at the horrible comprehension in his eyes.
"What - what are you saying, Donna?" His tone clearly said he didn't really want to hear her answer.
"I'm saying - I'm saying we can't do this. We can't be together. We can't - marry. We just can't, Jed. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Tears gushed down her cheeks at the devastation that fell across his face.
"Donna-" he choked, eyes shining, hands reaching for her.
"I - I can't! I can't let them - I can't live up to - you deserve - you deserve - Abbey."
His fingers fell away as she stepped back. "I don't have Abbey. Donna, I need - I need you! Don't you know that?" His eyes had darkened, grayed with despair. "This doesn't make sense. There must be something else. What else? What else is wrong?"
He knew her. Knew her well enough to tell. The truth bubbled in her throat, pushed toward her mouth, but she clamped down, forced it back. Heart breaking, she shook her head and pulled away, and it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.
"Please," she gasped, then turned and fled through the doors, past Charlie, hating herself for being so stupid, hating Jed for loving her and making her feel so wonderful, hating the world for making it so complicated, so hard. She heard him call her name, but didn't stop, couldn't stop.
Somehow she made it home. Somehow she fumbled with the lock, with the doorknob. Somehow she stumbled to her bed and collapsed onto it, sobs wracking her body until she found herself crumpled on the bathroom floor vomiting into the toilet.
She had to do it. For the country, for him. It was the only way. It was all she could have done.
But, oh, what had she done?