TITLE: One of THOSE Days
AUTHOR: Micky Fine
DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately they are not mine; I just like to play with them.
SUMMARY: Josh spends some quality time with Donna after they have another one of THOSE days. J/D
SPOILERS: Absolutely everything.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: First things first THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed they were all very lovely, very sweet, and very much appreciated. This next part is from Josh's POV (it's pretty obvious but I thought I should state that for the record. I'm not too sure about how Secret Service procedures work so any errors are totally mine. Reviews welcome.
I have only seen Donna Moss get drunk twice, and both times it did not turn out well for me so I'm a little concerned at the moment, as she's just had 6 tequilas.
The first time I saw Donna get drunk was during the campaign. The day before she had received a large bouquet of flowers and a phone call from Wisconsin. I only knew that it was from Wisconsin was because whoever phoned her called collect, something I bugged Donna about later. While we were out having drinks with most of what is now the Senior Staff, Donna had one too many tequilas. At the end of the night she was drunk but coherent enough to hand me the exact change for the collect call. The next day she left me for Dr. Freeride.
The second time Donna got drunk we were celebrating. All of our friends were there and we had been having a good time but Donna had one too many tequilas. At the end of the night she gave me the most penetrating look and then a peck on the cheek. She whispered goodbye in my ear. Six days later I was in a hospital in Germany praying for her to wake up.
You can see why I'm suspicious of Donna getting drunk, especially on tequilas. But tonight that intent was because of the interview she did a little while ago and to celebrate getting the bill for battered women through. Somehow, Danny got pulled along with us and is sitting next to CJ at our table. Both of them have got a familiar look on their face.
"Hey Danny."
Ladies and gentlemen may I now introduce the drunken Donnatella Moss.
"Donna."
"You know what?"
"Not sure that I do, no."
"CJ is Chief of Staff. Do you know what that means?"
"She's not Press Secretary."
Ok, I now recognize the look. It's the one that preceded the arrival of Gail.
"Yup. You're still a reporter, right Danny?"
"That I am."
"You're not also the head of the CIA or something are you?"
"Not that I know of."
"Well CJ, looks like your conflict of interest is gone. You can go at it now."
Toby just choked, CJ blanched and Danny has got a grin on his face the size of North Dakota. I should mention at this point that when Donna gets drunk it's like giving her a truth serum. God help us if she were ever captured, all they'd need to get her to give up state secrets would be a bottle of tequila.
Danny stands up.
"On that note, I'm going to get some more to drink. More tequila Donna?"
"That is very sweet Danny. If I weren't brainlessly attached to someone else I'd go into the back with you right now."
CJ now looks frightened. I'm not sure if it's because Donna just threatened to steal Danny or because Donna has made her first statement that includes her attachment to mystery man. The common theme when Donna gets drunk is that she refers to some other man that apparently she's head over heels for. Unfortunately, I never get to figure out who it is because CJ always takes Donna home at that portion of the evening. She's about to open her mouth when Danny interrupts.
"Claudia Jean, come dance with me."
"Not now Danny, I really think that..."
"You should dance with me. C'mon."
Danny has just dragged CJ out onto the floor where she now looks complacent to stay and sway there with Danny. Across the table Toby sighs and takes a deep drink of his scotch. His head pops up though when Donna begins to speak again.
"Hey, Toby!"
"Hi Donna."
"How was your day?"
"It was tolerable."
"Mine sucked."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's all Josh's fault too."
"Really, why?"
"He was sitting on my chest this morning."
Could someone shoot me now? Or if the ground could just open up and swallow me whole, that would be nice.
"Josh was sitting on your chest this morning?"
"Looking at me."
"Looking at you."
"Mournfully."
"Indeed."
I should state at this point that Donna is not insane, even though I wasn't sitting on her chest, her cat (kindly named Josh by her roommate Carrie) was. And for Donna this equals a very bad day. I laughed at her the first time she told me about this theory until there was a deal-breaker amendment added to a bill we had been pushing, the bulb in my desk lamp exploded and Donna fell at physio and strained her wrist. Now I just ask her not to tell me that the day is doomed. My reverie is broken by the rather brotherly glare I'm receiving from Toby at the moment for allegedly sitting on Donna's chest this morning. I now give my defense.
"Toby, Donna's talking about her cat."
"Donna, you have a cat named Josh?"
"Mm-hmm, Carrie named him."
"Carrie?"
"My roommate."
"And why..."
"It's a long story. Let's just say she was grateful to this Josh and named her first born after him."
"And then she gave the cat to you?"
"Yup."
"And this cat can foretell bad days by sitting on your chest?"
"And looking at me mournfully."
"Ok, I need another drink."
Toby now turns to the waitress practically begging for a scotch while I try to prevent Donna from falling off her stool because when she gets drunk her coordination becomes equivalent to mine when I'm sober. Thankfully she's sitting rather still at the moment and staring at many seemingly happy couples out on the dance floor.
"Toby."
"Why me?"
"Toby."
"Yes, Donna?"
"Did you meet Colin?"
Toby looks as if his stomach has just dropped to the earth's core. Or I could just be projecting.
"No, I didn't have that pleasure."
"He's a pretty nice guy. Tall, Irish accent and he's got the whole sexy photographer thing going on."
Ok, I so do not like this conversation (don't look at me like that).
"Sounds like a nice guy."
"Doesn't he? Josh doesn't like him. Says he's too Heathcliff on the moors. Either that or an elite member of the IRA. But he's great in bed so I don't know if I really care so much about his political affiliations."
It's a good thing I'm not drinking anything at the moment because it would have been spewed everywhere just now. I am forced to get into the conversation now.
"So is that why you date so many Republicans, Donna? Because you don't care about their political affiliations as long as they're good in bed?"
Donna looks affronted and is about to speak when a newly returned CJ interrupts.
"Hey guys, what's up?"
Toby mutters.
"Care to repeat that, Tobus?"
Toby doesn't get a chance to answer as Donna starts talking again.
"No Josh, that's not why I date Republicans. The reason I date Republicans and members of the IRA is because the Democrat that I want and whom I assume is fantastic in bed is too stupid to figure out that I want him."
Our table gets really quiet until Toby speaks.
"Well, CJ, you asked what was up."
"Thanks for that. Ok Donna, it's time to go home now."
"Really?"
She has this whiny tone that sounds amazingly like me.
"Yup, now let's go get your coat and head back to your apartment."
I speak at this point.
"It's ok, CJ, I can take her home. Her place is only three blocks from mine."
"No, Josh, you're staying here with Toby. Danny is leaving. I am taking Donna home."
As Donna shrugs into her coat she gets this sad look on he face.
"He sold me, CJ."
"What?"
"Colin sold me. He made money off of me. He exploited me at a moment when I had no walls, no protection and my life was in the balance. He made it so I had to look at it. So I had to see those moments again. Moments I can't remember. He sucks."
"Yes, Donna. Yes he does."
As CJ leaves with her arm wrapped around Donna I am ready to jump on a flight to Ireland and sic the IRA on Colin Ayers. Tomorrow I am phoning every paper everywhere and telling them that Colin Ayers is fronting a drug cartel and raising money through selling photographs. He'll never work anywhere again. My plots for the downfall of this vile and evil man are interrupted when Toby starts speaking to me.
"Did you get what she said?"
"About Colin? Yeah, he's going to wish he were dead when I get through with him."
"No, Josh. How can you be so dense?"
He sounds really exasperated but I'm still so mad at Colin I can't really concentrate.
"What are you talking about?"
"The thing she said before that. The thing about the stupid Democrat."
He's giving me a look so I think back and recall what Donna said. And then I think about it. And I think about it. And then it dawns on me. It is at this point that I fall off my stool and a waitress narrowly misses pouring five margaritas on my head.
"She was talking about me."
"Un-huh."
"Toby, she was talking about me! She's got a thing for me!"
"Un-huh."
"This is great! This means that I can finally tell her that..."
At this point I stop exclaiming because I've just realized that I'm shouting about my assistant having a thing for me in the middle of a crowded Georgetown bar and Danny hasn't left yet. I lower my voice.
"She has a thing for me, Toby!"
"Yup. Let's go now."
I would argue but I'm so elated that my assistant has a thing for me that I don't really care. I pull on my coat, put bills on the table for the tab and somehow find myself outside.
"Josh, walk back to work with me."
"Ok."
I should probably state here and now that I mutually have a thing for my assistant. Some might even say I love my assistant. They wouldn't really be wrong. I've consciously been fighting it off since the Christmas she went away with the guy from the navy (I know his name, I just don't want to talk about that, him or what he did after). Sam says I've had this thing for Donna since the second day she worked for me on the campaign and refused to get me coffee. He could be right.
"She has a thing for me Toby!"
"Please shut up."
"And she thinks I'm fantastic bed."
"Really, Josh, please SHUT UP!"
"Ok."
As we walk I feel like doing a tap dance or something to express my joy that my beautiful, intelligent, blonde, leggy assistant has a reciprocal thing for me. That is until Toby threatens to break my legs if I hurt her and then sends me home.
-----------
I am shocked when I come in to work and Donna is not there before me. And I know you're probably saying she got drunk last night Josh, give her some slack. Believe me, I am, but you need to know that Donna does not get hung over. Even if she were to drink an entire keg the worst she would feel would be dehydrated. The only reason she's not here yet is that she remembers last night.
You see, despite having the talents of being very hard to get drunk and never getting hangovers she has yet another virtue when it comes to the consumption of alcohol: she doesn't forget what she says or does when she gets drunk. And after last night she may be wishing she could because she doesn't know I also have a thing for her. So, to save her from humiliation I'm going to lie. I'm going to say I had a drink with Toby (I did that), plotted on how many different ways I can murder Colin while making it look like accident (I did that too) and then went to bed early (I also, amazingly, did that). You may be wondering where the lie is hiding in there since I did all those things and it's really just a lie of omission because I'm going to pretend I forgot about her stupid Democrat (that's me) comment. I won't tell her I'm here so early this morning because I woke up at 3:00 a.m. and couldn't go back to sleep because I was so excited that she has a thing for me and thinks I'll be fantastic in bed (don't you know it). Nope won't tell her that.
"Good morning, Josh."
She sounds a little timid. Showtime!
"What do you think about ice bullets?"
"Good morning Donna. How are you today? Was Josh sitting on your chest this morning?"
"I wasn't, as for the cat I don't want to know."
"Fine. Ice bullets?"
"To shoot Collin with and then they'll melt and then no one can tie it to me."
"Well, ignoring the issues with the actual gun you can't do it."
"Why not?"
"You ever seen Mythbusters?"
"I've heard of it."
"I watched one where they disproved the ice bullet theory. The bullets melt seconds after leaving the gun."
"Well, that sucks. Guess I've got to come up with a new plan then."
"Guess so."
Mission: Avoid Donna's Humiliation accomplished.
--------
"DONNA!"
"There's this thing they call an intercom. You press this button and like magic your voice will resound in my ears without endangering my eardrums by your bellowing."
"Interesting concept."
"Isn't it?"
"What's this thing on my schedule?"
"Pen?"
"Funny. I was talking about this appointment here."
She comes to stand beside me and then bends down to study her handwriting where I pointed with my finger. My senses are suddenly overwhelmed. Never mind the fact that she is the most beautiful woman ever, she smells good. Really good.
"Oh, there was a message from this guy from the Secret Service. He said he wanted to talk to you and that he'd be by at two o'clock. Which is now."
"'Kay, well, send him on in."
She leaves and then ushers in this discreetly muscular man in the typical Secret Service garb.
"Josh, this is Special Agent Luke Greenfield."
"Thanks Donna."
She smiles and closes the door.
"Special Agent Greenfield...can I call you Luke?"
"Sure."
"Ok, Luke, what I can I do for you?"
"Actually, Mr. Lyman, I came to brief you."
"Brief me on what?"
"Well, there's a note in Ms. Moss' file that says that if there are any threats of note we're supposed to come to you first and then brief Ms. Moss."
"Um, yeah. Ok, what's the threat? Is it that gun collector guy again?"
"No, our filter has received several emails from a group who are threatening to finish the job started in Gaza."
"They want to kill her?"
"Yes, they say that it is a slight against God that she did not die in the explosion as she was destined and that they must finish what was started."
"Is this being considered a death threat?"
"No, we're well acquainted with the group. They're a bunch of disassociated young men making threats from a basement suite in Delaware."
"Ok, is her security at risk?"
"We're a little concerned about that so we're going to up the security near your office. Does she live alone?"
"No, she has a roommate. And since the explosion I check on her daily. She has a hard time with stuff sometimes."
"Yeah. Ok, then she should be fine at home. We'll have a car drive by a couple times a night."
"Is that it then?"
"Yes."
"Ok, well, then I'm gonna go grab Donna and you can brief her."
"Ok."
I walk out into the bullpen to find Donna typing at her desk.
"Hey Donna."
"Josh, the intercom..."
"Was Josh sitting on your chest this morning?"
"Yeah."
"Mark up another sucky day accurately predicted. C'mon in to my office, Special Agent Greenfield needs to talk to you."
As we head into my office Donna's face is apprehensive but then she looks at me and grins.
"Did you just say sucky?"
-------
The rest of the day passes without any more mishaps and Donna leaves at five for her physio appointment. Just before she left she invited me over to indulge in some pity ice cream. I agreed.
Back when she had just returned from the hospital in Germany I would go to physio with her because the therapist had said that initially some emotional support from someone Donna trusted would be required constantly. Afterwards, I would take her back to her apartment where we'd hang out for awhile and then I'd put her to bed because Carrie takes some law courses at night.
Those couple of hours a day of us just being together and not talking about work (too much) are some of the best moments I have ever had. Usually we'd sit and just read together with some light music in the background (either Yo-Yo Ma because he rules or Diana Krall 'cause her voice is just sexy. I'm pretty sure you can decided who picks what) or watch some classic TV or any kind of movie, we didn't really care. It was during that time that I found even more endearing traits in Donnatella Moss. I discovered that she laughs out loud at books. That if she's seen an episode of a TV show or a movie a couple of times she'll say the lines with the actors. If she doesn't like what happens she'll yell at the TV (a trait I possess as well). I had so many great moments during that time, but the best would be when I tucked her in.
While her leg was in the cast I'd have to pick her up from her wheelchair and put her in the bed. Her foot then had to be rested very carefully on a pillow to keep it elevated. Finally, I'd pull the blankets up to her chin, put my hand over my eyes and place a soft kiss on her forehead. Afterwards, she'd always sigh and immediately drop off. I would stay for a few minutes watching her, wishing that I could have moments like this forever, that I could be around Donnatella Moss 24/7. They were nice wishes.
I might just have the chance to make them happen now.
-------
By the time I arrive at Donna's apartment the storm that's been threatening to break all day has let loose. Thunder, lightning and rain are flying and I'm now in the need for a new umbrella 'cause the wind just stole mine.
I buzz up to Donna several times but get no answer. I'm not surprised, because she said she might be in the bath loosening her muscles after physio by the time I got there. I use my keys to get in to her building (don't look at me like that, she gave me the keys).
When I enter Donna's apartment my eardrums are blasted by Prelude in G Major by Bach being played on the cello by the revered Yo-Yo Ma (no, I'm not having an episode, it's Donna's favourite piece and I can listen to it just fine now). No wonder Donna couldn't hear me when I buzzed. I wander into the kitchen and find neatly folded grocery bags and a full fridge. I head back through the main room and down the hall that contains the large bathroom and two bedrooms (hey, can I pick a nice place or what?).
Both the bedrooms are dark but I see what is most likely candlelight flickering through the crack of the partially open bathroom door. Poking my hand through first I announce my presence to Donna but get no reply. I stick my head in the door and instead of seeing my assistant surrounded by bubbles in the tub I find an empty bath, an open canister of bath salts sitting on the edge in preparation. I turn and see that the candle is quickly running out of wax to burn and I sweep what remains of it into the sink and douse it with cold water. A growing sense of alarm is ringing in my head.
Assured that there will be no fire in the bathroom in the near future I rush back out into the main room. Donna's purse sits on the table next to the door and her coat is hanging on the stand. I'm about to phone Special Agent Greenfield and tell him he totally screwed up on his analysis of that group that threatened Donna when a flash of lightning draws my gaze to the glass doors that open out onto the patio. And there, sitting in a wrought-iron chair is my assistant.
I stride across the room, fling open the doors and am luckily not soaked, as I haven't yet removed my coat.
"DONNA!"
I'm forced to shout above the growing rumble of the thunder. She doesn't move.
"ARE YOU STUPID?!? YOU'RE SITTING IN A METAL CHAIR IN THE MIDDLE OF A THUNDERSTORM!"
As I finish my sentence, I lean down with my arms on the armrests of the chair. My face is right in hers. We make eye contact.
I have always loved Donna's eyes. Besides being the most amazing shade of blue they are so expressive that you could spend weeks just studying them. Usually, no matter how she's feeling there's always a bit of what she likes to call spunk shining through them. I tend to call it bravado because it was there when she first convinced me to let her work for me, it was there when she came back that April to apologize for leaving and ask for her job back, it was there when she convinced all of the assistants to type slower as per Leo's instructions to prevent Carpal Tunnel syndrome and most amazingly of all it was there when she looked at me and walked again for the first time after the explosion.
It isn't there now. She looks broken and small. I quickly realize that she's in shock and by the way she keeps rubbing her leg I'd say it has something to do with the explosion. She's also dripping wet and on the verge of pneumonia.
I scoop her up and carry her to the bathroom where I set her down on the toilet and start hot water running into the tub.
"Donna?"
The gaze she turns on me is distant but it slowly gains focus until I know that she's almost back.
"Mmmm."
"You need to take a bath and get warm."
"Sounds good."
"I think you should probably undress yourself and get into the tub."
"Who else is gonna do it?"
"Well, I could..."
"Josh, get out!"
She's not back but she's getting there.
As she immerses herself in bubbles I head into her closet to find some clean dry clothes for her. Being a methodical man I start at the back and pull all the clothes forward. As I do, Donna's cane falls on my foot. I return it to where it was but am then transfixed by what I see. In a clear, drycleaner's bag is the dress. The gorgeous red dress that I told Donna to buy so long ago. But this is not all that transfixes me because the bag is covered with post-it notes. From what I can decipher they are messages to remind herself of why she puts up with me. I am speechless.
"JOSH! CAN I MAYBE GET SOME CLOTHES SOON!"
I shake my head, grab a pair of thick socks, some sweats and a sweatshirt that I left here ages ago and hand them in through the crack in the door.
"Thank you."
-------
When Donna emerges from the bathroom she walks straight past me and into the kitchen as if nothing had happened.
"Josh, what kind of ice cream do you want?"
"What have you got?"
"Neopolitan, Rocky Road, Cookie Dough and Triple Chocolate."
"Let's have 'em all."
"That's what I was thinking. It's not really an ice cream pity party if you restrict yourself."
Donna exits the kitchen with all four containers of ice cream and two spoons. We sit and eat in silence until I can't contain myself any longer.
"What was that about?"
"What was what about?"
"Donna."
"Josh."
"Was it the thing from today, did it set off some..."
"No."
"What was it?"
"I went out to watch the storm…you know how much I love the thunderstorms."
"Mm-hmm."
"Well, I went out to watch it and suddenly the lightning became camera flashes."
"Camera flashes?"
"But then they weren't camera flashes it was the bright light from the explosion and I was suddenly back there and I could remember it all even the flashes from the cameras. Even the flashes from Colin's camera."
At this point tears have started to roll down her face and I quickly enfold her in an embrace and rock her slowly back and forth. I am filled with so many conflicting emotions but my concern for Donna is the utmost and so I beat down my anger and hold her until the sobs subside. With a shaky breath she finally pulls away.
"You ok now?"
"Yup."
"You sure?"
"Yup."
"Ok."
She stares at me now and I see a glimmer of her spunk/bravado and then a grin cracks her face.
"Donnatella, what are you thinking about?"
"Do you want to fingerpaint?"
"What?!"
"My nieces were supposed to come visit and we were going to fingerpaint but they caught the chicken pox so they had to stay home. I'm stuck with all this paint and construction paper, so I ask you again, do you want to fingerpaint?"
I feel a dimpled grin slowly cross my face as I nod my acquisition.
Several minutes later we're sprawled on our stomachs on the floor, our hands covered in paint with several sheets of construction paper already filled. As I glance over at Donna I note the smears of paint on her cheek and forehead and the paint in her hair. Feeling my glance she turns to look at me and we exchange grins.
This is going to be one of my all-time favorite moments.
End of Part Two