Classification: Post-Ep for "Disaster Relief."
Spoilers: Up to and including "Disaster Relief." Spoiler for "Dead Irish Writers,"
of all things. And, because this is aMeg fic, there's stuff from the Rosslyn arc.
Try to contain your surprise.
Thanks to the Algonquin Round Table Redux.
DIES IRAE
By Friday they had barely made a dent in the "What a Shame" folder.
Donna watched Josh move some papers from one pile to another, his bloodshot eyes
barely scanning the sheets. One he dismissed with a groan, another he wadded up
and threw at the wastebasket. The shot went wide. Sighing, he opened a blue
folder and shook his head as he put it back where he'd found it.
"This is Legislative Siberia, Donna. We should knock off early," Josh said with
a fake yawn. "I'm beat." He cocked his head as Donna failed to conceal her
shudder. A ghostly imitation of Josh's familiar grin didn't quite reach his
eyes, didn't quite mask the pain Donna could see as clearly as if it had been
inscribed in the lines on his forehead. "I said 'beat,' not 'beaten.'" He
glanced away from her, muttering under his breath, "Not yet."
"I know." Her throat was constricted, her eyes stinging. She saw Josh cringe and
look away. "Josh--"
"I'm going home," he said, rising and stretching as he retrieved his jacket from
the back of his chair. His back popped like a little string of firecrackers.
"Yeah. I've been sitting too long. C'mon, we can share a cab."
"I have..." Her voice drifted off. Truth be told, she had nothing, nothing to do
except file the folders that Josh didn't want to use. Nothing to do except watch
as the wheels of government rolled all around them. Josh used to be the driver.
Now, as he picked up a nearly-empty backpack and shuffled toward the door, he
looked more like someone who'd been run over.
Run over. Steamroller, train, hearse. Run over.
She'd spent the weekend strategizing with CJ.
Run over.
She'd spent the next five days in full disaster mode.
Run over.
Those seven nights had been with very little sleep, and what sleep came to her
had been fitful. She was beyond damage control now, beyond spin, beyond anything
but the need to walk in time with the quickening of her pulse.
The halls were a blur. Margaret's desk didn't register on Donna's optic nerves
at all, nor did she hear the sharp protest as she bypassed knocking and strode
into Leo's office at full speed, shutting the door behind her.
He didn't even glance up at her. "What is it, Margaret?"
"Well, for starters, I'm not Margaret."
Leo leaned back in his chair, nodding to himself. Behind his glasses, his eyes
were a dull aluminum gray. Cold. Without life, certainly without compassion. Oh,
God, where was Leo in those dead eyes?
"I don't have a lot of time right now," Leo said, turning his attention from
Donna and rifling through a folder, "so if you're here to plead Josh's case--"
"I'm not here to plead. I'm here to yell."
"Oh, dear God, Donna," Leo moaned, pulling his glasses off and dropping them on
top of a stack of papers. "Don't you think there's been yelling enough around
this place? Do you have any idea how many people from the DNC have been yelling
in my ear?"
Trying to subdue the tremors in her voice, Donna spoke slowly and carefully.
"You've had them yelling in your ear before, but you've never caved in like
this."
The look he gave her was one of a teacher who was dealing with a particularly
dull-witted pupil. "I understand that you're upset. Frankly, I'd be disappointed
if you weren't. But this isn't a botched press conference. I can't just slap him
on the hand and let it go. What he did was serious."
"What he did was something he ran past you! You're as much a part of Carrick's
defection as he is!"
The ice in Leo's eyes was replaced by flame. He straightened in his chair.
"Excuse me?"
"How did they lighten your portfolio? Who's stepping in as your replacement?"
"That's enough!" Leo snapped at her, and she hated herself for flinching. "Don't
you...don't you dare come into my office and pitch a fit because I was doing my
job!"
"Your job!" Donna shouted back. "Remember what you said to Josh? 'As long as I
got a job, you got a job,' that's what you told him. My God, he lived on those
words for weeks. So what the hell--"
"He's got a job! He gets to keep his title, which, by the way, was enough for
the DNC to come after me with heavy artillery, and he gets to keep his staff, by
which I mean you and your job. Of the pair of you, I'm not sure who's crazier!"
Leo stopped abruptly and straightened his tie. "Good evening, Mr. President."
"Oh, come on," Donna groaned, rolling her eyes. "You're not going to get me to
fall for that."
"That's too bad," commented Bartlet from just inside the doorway, "because I
love it when the feisty ones fall for me."
Donna wasn't sure which of the two leaden things in her body was her heart and
which was her stomach. "Mr. President," she gasped. "I was...I was..."
"There was so much yelling in this office that I thought my wife might be back
in town," Bartlet said. "Sit, sit. What's going on?"
"Ms. Moss is giving me a piece of her mind," Leo said as he waved Donna to a
chair and the President to the sofa. He sat beside Bartlet, shoulder to
shoulder.
"I'm surprised it took her this long." Bartlet's voice was laced with amusement
along with concern. "What finally brought this on?"
Donna could see her reflection in Leo's window. Pale, hair flying everywhere,
hands over her heart. She looked pathetic. No wonder they weren't taking her
seriously. She closed her eyes, remembering Josh sitting at his desk with a look
of such utter defeat...
"This is wrong," she murmured. "Yes, Josh screwed up. Yes, he made the
Democratic Party look bad. It's going to be a little harder for a while."
"A little harder?" Leo sneered. "Do you have any clue how hard it is to get the
party leaders to take us seriously, not to mention Congress?"
"About as hard as it was to get them to take you seriously when you were downing
your valium with scotch?"
There was a line somewhere in Leo's office, and Donna was on the wrong side of
it.
"You're out of line," Leo said, pointing a warning finger at Donna. "I don't
take crap like that from anyone, and I sure don't take it sitting down."
"Then stand up," Donna heard herself saying as if from a great distance, "or lie
down, or play dead, I don't care. You're supposed to be the Chief of Staff, not
the Chief Executioner, and it's fine to ask Josh to take one for the team, but
you ask, you don't stick a knife in his heart! My God, what he went through with
Claypool, the depositions, Sam's call girl, and all the ways he was willing to
compromise himself to save you, and you have the nerve to throw stones at him?"
Leo opened his mouth to say something, but Donna was already leaning toward
Bartlet. "Josh got you here, Mr. President. He got you here when smart money
said you didn't have a prayer. He got your bills passed and your agendas taken
seriously, and then he got you re-elected after you made the M.S. announcement.
After you did something unthinkable that had the party ready to draw and quarter
you!"
"Not to mention the bullet," Bartlet said quietly. His gaze was steady as Donna
caught her breath. "I just thought I'd bring that up preemptively, since I knew
you'd deputize it at some point."
She nodded, swallowing. She would not cry. CJ had taught her that. "The thing
is, Mr. President, that Josh would take another one. After everything you've
done, he'd take a bullet or walk through fire because he worships you. There is
nothing in this world that Josh wouldn't do for you. What are you going to do
for him, other than show him something worse than the door?"
"I should've fired you years ago," Leo muttered.
Bartlet shook his head. "You can't fire someone for telling the truth, Leo.
Besides, if you fired her, CJ would get her a job as a pundit somewhere and
she'd make more money than the two of us put together. Or Abbey would hire her
as Chief of Staff, and you can just imagine the nutty Josh would have if that
happened." He turned toward her, reaching out to take her hand between his.
Donna was aware of a vague aroma of bourbon and cigarette smoke. "Leo cares very
much about what happens to Josh. You know that, right?"
"Yes, sir," she whispered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leo turn toward
the middle of the room, his shoulders slumped, one hand covering his eyes.
Thinking about what he had said, maybe, or maybe just exhausted.
With a nod toward Leo, Bartlet continued. "He's doing the best he can with a
couple hundred pissed Democrats and a President who's just now getting his act
together. Working for me is a hard job, Donna, even harder than working for
Josh. Cut him some slack. You want to kick some ass, then come kick mine." He
patted her hand, released it, and leaned back against the sofa. "My wife tells
me that you have no trouble whatsoever telling truth to power."
"Oh, my God..." Donna felt the rush of blood to her face.
"Did you hear about this, Leo?" Leo shook his head. "The night of Abbey's
birthday party - back when our biggest worry was how long she'd lose her license
- Donna here pointed out that Abbey had been a doctor when she gave me beta
seron injections and then told me not to tell anyone."
For the first time in a week, Donna saw something she recognized in Leo's
countenance. "Sentences like that are the reason I quit drinking," he said
dryly.
"Unfortunately, I was sober enough to remember and regret what I said. I imagine
I'll feel the same way about tonight." She looked from the President to Leo, not
sure what she was seeing in their faces. "I shouldn't have said anything. I
shouldn't even have come in here. I don't know what I was thinking."
"You were thinking about protecting Josh. There's a lot of Delores Landingham in
you, Donna." Bartlet paused. "That's a compliment. You can tell Josh I
complimented you."
She shook her head. "Josh would kill me if he knew I was here," she sighed.
"He's a proud man, Mr. President. He has courage and principles."
"I know that," Bartlet said softly. "And Leo knows it, too. That's why we went
to such lengths to keep him with us."
"You've got him on life support."
"But it's because we're waiting for him to recover - not because we're waiting
for him to die. There's a big difference between the two."
"I understand, sir," Donna whispered. Leo still looked shaken, not quite meeting
her gaze when she stood up and straightened her skirt. "The Secret Service
changed his name to 'Phoenix' after...after Rosslyn," she said. "Josh rises from
ashes. That's what he does."
"We all do," Leo murmured. "Sometimes it's hard to remember that when you're
actually on fire, that's all."
Jed broke the silence that followed. "Speaking of taking bullets, you have to
stop doing that. When we're done here--and, believe it or not, there'll be an
end to this insanity someday--you're going to do some great things. It's an
honor to be considered a good friend, someone who'll fall on a sword. But you're
going to be more than that. Right, Leo?"
"Absolutely." He looked so weary that Donna couldn't remain angry with him. "Is
Josh still here?"
"No, he left right before I did this...thing." She gestured around the office.
"You know, the 'Someone from the DCoS office implodes in front of the two most
powerful men in the country' thing."
Bartlet nodded. "While it's not something I'd like to see on a regular basis,
it's understandable. And forgivable," he added with a rueful smile.
"Listen," Leo said, getting slowly to his feet and walking toward Donna, "Josh
is gone, and it's late, so I'm gonna have my guy drive you home. Is that okay?"
There it was, the grave courtliness of Leo McGarry, and Donna loved him all over
again. "That would be nice," she whispered, blinking back the tears once more as
her voice nearly broke.
Leo placed his hand on her arm, just for an instant, and in his eyes Donna could
see all the anxiety and pain he'd felt on Josh's account in the past week. He'd
had to admonish Josh when he'd wanted to commiserate with him, but that was just
not how things were done in the White House. "Go get your things, and I'll page
Chuck. He'll be waiting for you at the Ellipse."
"Thank you," she managed to choke out. "Good night." With what she hoped was a
smile, she backed out of the office, turned abruptly on her heel, and began
walking toward the exit.
"What the hell happened?" Margaret called after her, but she just shrugged and
kept walking until she was at the Ellipse. The sleek gray Town Car was waiting
for her and Chuck got out to open her door. He tipped his cap at her.
"Good evening, Ms. Moss. Where are we going?"
She considered giving him Josh's address, then decided against it and gave her
own instead. She was going home, where she would take a hot bath and drink a
glass of merlot and try to forget the past half hour. Maybe the whole week. Just
back it up and live it over again, only better this time. And maybe she'd
finally get a pony while she was at it.
While they were stopped at an intersection, Donna looked out the window to see
Josh walking slowly down the street. He glanced at the car, then did a
double-take and looked at her quizzically just as the light changed and Chuck
drove ahead.
Donna turned and leaned her damp cheek on her arms, and through the rear window
she watched Josh get smaller and smaller under the looming glow of the Capitol
Building.
***
END
***
Feedback is like a message from God. Smite me at marguerite@swbell.net.
Back to West Wing.
Spoilers: Up to and including "Disaster Relief." Spoiler for "Dead Irish Writers,"
of all things. And, because this is aMeg fic, there's stuff from the Rosslyn arc.
Try to contain your surprise.
Thanks to the Algonquin Round Table Redux.
DIES IRAE
By Friday they had barely made a dent in the "What a Shame" folder.
Donna watched Josh move some papers from one pile to another, his bloodshot eyes
barely scanning the sheets. One he dismissed with a groan, another he wadded up
and threw at the wastebasket. The shot went wide. Sighing, he opened a blue
folder and shook his head as he put it back where he'd found it.
"This is Legislative Siberia, Donna. We should knock off early," Josh said with
a fake yawn. "I'm beat." He cocked his head as Donna failed to conceal her
shudder. A ghostly imitation of Josh's familiar grin didn't quite reach his
eyes, didn't quite mask the pain Donna could see as clearly as if it had been
inscribed in the lines on his forehead. "I said 'beat,' not 'beaten.'" He
glanced away from her, muttering under his breath, "Not yet."
"I know." Her throat was constricted, her eyes stinging. She saw Josh cringe and
look away. "Josh--"
"I'm going home," he said, rising and stretching as he retrieved his jacket from
the back of his chair. His back popped like a little string of firecrackers.
"Yeah. I've been sitting too long. C'mon, we can share a cab."
"I have..." Her voice drifted off. Truth be told, she had nothing, nothing to do
except file the folders that Josh didn't want to use. Nothing to do except watch
as the wheels of government rolled all around them. Josh used to be the driver.
Now, as he picked up a nearly-empty backpack and shuffled toward the door, he
looked more like someone who'd been run over.
Run over. Steamroller, train, hearse. Run over.
She'd spent the weekend strategizing with CJ.
Run over.
She'd spent the next five days in full disaster mode.
Run over.
Those seven nights had been with very little sleep, and what sleep came to her
had been fitful. She was beyond damage control now, beyond spin, beyond anything
but the need to walk in time with the quickening of her pulse.
The halls were a blur. Margaret's desk didn't register on Donna's optic nerves
at all, nor did she hear the sharp protest as she bypassed knocking and strode
into Leo's office at full speed, shutting the door behind her.
He didn't even glance up at her. "What is it, Margaret?"
"Well, for starters, I'm not Margaret."
Leo leaned back in his chair, nodding to himself. Behind his glasses, his eyes
were a dull aluminum gray. Cold. Without life, certainly without compassion. Oh,
God, where was Leo in those dead eyes?
"I don't have a lot of time right now," Leo said, turning his attention from
Donna and rifling through a folder, "so if you're here to plead Josh's case--"
"I'm not here to plead. I'm here to yell."
"Oh, dear God, Donna," Leo moaned, pulling his glasses off and dropping them on
top of a stack of papers. "Don't you think there's been yelling enough around
this place? Do you have any idea how many people from the DNC have been yelling
in my ear?"
Trying to subdue the tremors in her voice, Donna spoke slowly and carefully.
"You've had them yelling in your ear before, but you've never caved in like
this."
The look he gave her was one of a teacher who was dealing with a particularly
dull-witted pupil. "I understand that you're upset. Frankly, I'd be disappointed
if you weren't. But this isn't a botched press conference. I can't just slap him
on the hand and let it go. What he did was serious."
"What he did was something he ran past you! You're as much a part of Carrick's
defection as he is!"
The ice in Leo's eyes was replaced by flame. He straightened in his chair.
"Excuse me?"
"How did they lighten your portfolio? Who's stepping in as your replacement?"
"That's enough!" Leo snapped at her, and she hated herself for flinching. "Don't
you...don't you dare come into my office and pitch a fit because I was doing my
job!"
"Your job!" Donna shouted back. "Remember what you said to Josh? 'As long as I
got a job, you got a job,' that's what you told him. My God, he lived on those
words for weeks. So what the hell--"
"He's got a job! He gets to keep his title, which, by the way, was enough for
the DNC to come after me with heavy artillery, and he gets to keep his staff, by
which I mean you and your job. Of the pair of you, I'm not sure who's crazier!"
Leo stopped abruptly and straightened his tie. "Good evening, Mr. President."
"Oh, come on," Donna groaned, rolling her eyes. "You're not going to get me to
fall for that."
"That's too bad," commented Bartlet from just inside the doorway, "because I
love it when the feisty ones fall for me."
Donna wasn't sure which of the two leaden things in her body was her heart and
which was her stomach. "Mr. President," she gasped. "I was...I was..."
"There was so much yelling in this office that I thought my wife might be back
in town," Bartlet said. "Sit, sit. What's going on?"
"Ms. Moss is giving me a piece of her mind," Leo said as he waved Donna to a
chair and the President to the sofa. He sat beside Bartlet, shoulder to
shoulder.
"I'm surprised it took her this long." Bartlet's voice was laced with amusement
along with concern. "What finally brought this on?"
Donna could see her reflection in Leo's window. Pale, hair flying everywhere,
hands over her heart. She looked pathetic. No wonder they weren't taking her
seriously. She closed her eyes, remembering Josh sitting at his desk with a look
of such utter defeat...
"This is wrong," she murmured. "Yes, Josh screwed up. Yes, he made the
Democratic Party look bad. It's going to be a little harder for a while."
"A little harder?" Leo sneered. "Do you have any clue how hard it is to get the
party leaders to take us seriously, not to mention Congress?"
"About as hard as it was to get them to take you seriously when you were downing
your valium with scotch?"
There was a line somewhere in Leo's office, and Donna was on the wrong side of
it.
"You're out of line," Leo said, pointing a warning finger at Donna. "I don't
take crap like that from anyone, and I sure don't take it sitting down."
"Then stand up," Donna heard herself saying as if from a great distance, "or lie
down, or play dead, I don't care. You're supposed to be the Chief of Staff, not
the Chief Executioner, and it's fine to ask Josh to take one for the team, but
you ask, you don't stick a knife in his heart! My God, what he went through with
Claypool, the depositions, Sam's call girl, and all the ways he was willing to
compromise himself to save you, and you have the nerve to throw stones at him?"
Leo opened his mouth to say something, but Donna was already leaning toward
Bartlet. "Josh got you here, Mr. President. He got you here when smart money
said you didn't have a prayer. He got your bills passed and your agendas taken
seriously, and then he got you re-elected after you made the M.S. announcement.
After you did something unthinkable that had the party ready to draw and quarter
you!"
"Not to mention the bullet," Bartlet said quietly. His gaze was steady as Donna
caught her breath. "I just thought I'd bring that up preemptively, since I knew
you'd deputize it at some point."
She nodded, swallowing. She would not cry. CJ had taught her that. "The thing
is, Mr. President, that Josh would take another one. After everything you've
done, he'd take a bullet or walk through fire because he worships you. There is
nothing in this world that Josh wouldn't do for you. What are you going to do
for him, other than show him something worse than the door?"
"I should've fired you years ago," Leo muttered.
Bartlet shook his head. "You can't fire someone for telling the truth, Leo.
Besides, if you fired her, CJ would get her a job as a pundit somewhere and
she'd make more money than the two of us put together. Or Abbey would hire her
as Chief of Staff, and you can just imagine the nutty Josh would have if that
happened." He turned toward her, reaching out to take her hand between his.
Donna was aware of a vague aroma of bourbon and cigarette smoke. "Leo cares very
much about what happens to Josh. You know that, right?"
"Yes, sir," she whispered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leo turn toward
the middle of the room, his shoulders slumped, one hand covering his eyes.
Thinking about what he had said, maybe, or maybe just exhausted.
With a nod toward Leo, Bartlet continued. "He's doing the best he can with a
couple hundred pissed Democrats and a President who's just now getting his act
together. Working for me is a hard job, Donna, even harder than working for
Josh. Cut him some slack. You want to kick some ass, then come kick mine." He
patted her hand, released it, and leaned back against the sofa. "My wife tells
me that you have no trouble whatsoever telling truth to power."
"Oh, my God..." Donna felt the rush of blood to her face.
"Did you hear about this, Leo?" Leo shook his head. "The night of Abbey's
birthday party - back when our biggest worry was how long she'd lose her license
- Donna here pointed out that Abbey had been a doctor when she gave me beta
seron injections and then told me not to tell anyone."
For the first time in a week, Donna saw something she recognized in Leo's
countenance. "Sentences like that are the reason I quit drinking," he said
dryly.
"Unfortunately, I was sober enough to remember and regret what I said. I imagine
I'll feel the same way about tonight." She looked from the President to Leo, not
sure what she was seeing in their faces. "I shouldn't have said anything. I
shouldn't even have come in here. I don't know what I was thinking."
"You were thinking about protecting Josh. There's a lot of Delores Landingham in
you, Donna." Bartlet paused. "That's a compliment. You can tell Josh I
complimented you."
She shook her head. "Josh would kill me if he knew I was here," she sighed.
"He's a proud man, Mr. President. He has courage and principles."
"I know that," Bartlet said softly. "And Leo knows it, too. That's why we went
to such lengths to keep him with us."
"You've got him on life support."
"But it's because we're waiting for him to recover - not because we're waiting
for him to die. There's a big difference between the two."
"I understand, sir," Donna whispered. Leo still looked shaken, not quite meeting
her gaze when she stood up and straightened her skirt. "The Secret Service
changed his name to 'Phoenix' after...after Rosslyn," she said. "Josh rises from
ashes. That's what he does."
"We all do," Leo murmured. "Sometimes it's hard to remember that when you're
actually on fire, that's all."
Jed broke the silence that followed. "Speaking of taking bullets, you have to
stop doing that. When we're done here--and, believe it or not, there'll be an
end to this insanity someday--you're going to do some great things. It's an
honor to be considered a good friend, someone who'll fall on a sword. But you're
going to be more than that. Right, Leo?"
"Absolutely." He looked so weary that Donna couldn't remain angry with him. "Is
Josh still here?"
"No, he left right before I did this...thing." She gestured around the office.
"You know, the 'Someone from the DCoS office implodes in front of the two most
powerful men in the country' thing."
Bartlet nodded. "While it's not something I'd like to see on a regular basis,
it's understandable. And forgivable," he added with a rueful smile.
"Listen," Leo said, getting slowly to his feet and walking toward Donna, "Josh
is gone, and it's late, so I'm gonna have my guy drive you home. Is that okay?"
There it was, the grave courtliness of Leo McGarry, and Donna loved him all over
again. "That would be nice," she whispered, blinking back the tears once more as
her voice nearly broke.
Leo placed his hand on her arm, just for an instant, and in his eyes Donna could
see all the anxiety and pain he'd felt on Josh's account in the past week. He'd
had to admonish Josh when he'd wanted to commiserate with him, but that was just
not how things were done in the White House. "Go get your things, and I'll page
Chuck. He'll be waiting for you at the Ellipse."
"Thank you," she managed to choke out. "Good night." With what she hoped was a
smile, she backed out of the office, turned abruptly on her heel, and began
walking toward the exit.
"What the hell happened?" Margaret called after her, but she just shrugged and
kept walking until she was at the Ellipse. The sleek gray Town Car was waiting
for her and Chuck got out to open her door. He tipped his cap at her.
"Good evening, Ms. Moss. Where are we going?"
She considered giving him Josh's address, then decided against it and gave her
own instead. She was going home, where she would take a hot bath and drink a
glass of merlot and try to forget the past half hour. Maybe the whole week. Just
back it up and live it over again, only better this time. And maybe she'd
finally get a pony while she was at it.
While they were stopped at an intersection, Donna looked out the window to see
Josh walking slowly down the street. He glanced at the car, then did a
double-take and looked at her quizzically just as the light changed and Chuck
drove ahead.
Donna turned and leaned her damp cheek on her arms, and through the rear window
she watched Josh get smaller and smaller under the looming glow of the Capitol
Building.
***
END
***
Feedback is like a message from God. Smite me at marguerite@swbell.net.
Back to West Wing.