Title: Consequences

Author: Shelly

Spoilers: "The Ticket"

Rating: PG-13 or Teen (some minor language)

Genre: Angst, Post Ep

Pairings: Josh / his guilt complex / his ego

Archive: Where ever is fine, just ask first, please.

Disclaimer: I gain nothing from writing this other than to purge my twisted soul a little and to give myself a warm-fuzzy and a valid reason for Josh having that folder so readily accessible in his top left hand drawer. Aaron Sorkin created them, John Wells owns them, I like to write for them.

Notes: Just a little something I cooked up for some good friends. Thanks to them that betaed this for me. You know who you are and you know that you're loved.

Feedback: Yes, please!

Consequences

Josh opened his desk drawer and looked, once again, at the contents of the manila folder. After she'd gone, and he'd stepped back into the relative seclusion of his office, he'd quickly stashed it so he wouldn't have to see it and be reminded of how he'd used it to smash her heart into a thousand little pieces.

He'd replayed the conversation in his mind a few times, dissecting each and every word, wondering if there was something he could have said, something he could have done, to make her see that he wasn't being an egotistical ass because he'd won and she'd lost . . . and she'd left him . . . and that's what she got for leaving him . . . and he had a job to do.

It had nothing to do with any sort of vendetta -- nothing what-so-ever to do with him not willing to give her another chance. Granted, it had killed him a little inside when she'd quit for the second time and, for a while, he'd played out a scenario where she would return to him, begging him to rehire her for a second time, and he would tell her to stuff it.

But, it wasn't like that at all. It wasn't personal. In spite of all the evidence to the contrary, it was everything but personal.

He knew the press would have a field day if he hired her. They would sniff out a scandal where one didn't exist -- why would he hire her when she was so vocally abrasive against his candidate? -- and with their shared work history it would be like Christmas and Chanukah rolled into one for the press-pool. If she'd been more behind the scenes, it would have been doable. He would have hired her to replace him if he could have gotten away with it. But she'd been too public -- too passionate -- too damn good.

The first time he'd read an account of one of her press conferences, he'd swelled with pride. The second time, he had watched a news clip and had heard her throw barbs and slings at his candidate, and he'd worried -- just a little -- but still secretly enjoyed her dry wit. The third time, however, was when he'd started writing things down.

At first he wasn't sure why he was keeping all of her quotes in one neat, orderly file. He told himself it was opposition research. Then he told himself it was because he wanted to keep tabs on her and how well she was fitting into the role of campaign spokesperson, sharing anecdotes with C.J. when they'd had occasion to talk. Then he told himself that they'd look back on those statements and laugh and that's why he was keeping such a good record.

Then Santos started looking like a viable candidate, and the rules of the game changed.

Will had said to him, at the beginning of the primary season, that they should have a clean campaign. He'd mentioned something about being able to hire him after Santos had lost and not being able to do so if there was too much mud-slinging.

Sadly, it was the same where Donna was concerned. He knew it, and he knew she had to have known it, too.

There was no way he could hire her after all of the public things she'd said against the Congressman. He'd started the folder to remind him of that very fact. He'd read it almost every day, adding to it when she had a new gem, a new nugget of wit. Josh positively ached with the wanting but, he couldn't hire her, just as she wouldn't have been able to hire him if their positions were reversed.

He'd read those quotes almost every day, to the point where he could recite her words verbatim, and now he couldn't look at them without feeling like he might be sick.

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind, he'd hoped she would come back to him and offer herself to him -- to the campaign. If she hadn't stopped by, he knew it would have crushed him. It would have been the ultimate slap in the face. He wanted to know that she still wanted to work with him -- be with him.

At the same time, he had hoped that she would know it was impossible and just move on. The thought of having to turn her down had plagued him since they'd silently parted the night of the convention. Oddly, today's scene had played out nearly like he'd envisioned except, in his imagination, she had smiled and accepted his rejection with a shrug instead of accusations, even beginning the conversation with the caveat that she knew he couldn't hire her -- but it was worth a shot. His imaginary Donna had understood the predicament she'd placed him in and had respected the difficult decision he'd had to make.

The real Donna hadn't been so pragmatic.

The real Donna had looked away when he'd confessed how much he'd missed her.

The real Donna had turned down his offer to help her find another job.

The real Donna had been crushed and angry.

A small, nagging voice told him he might never see the real Donna again.

Josh sighed and leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs and propping his feet up on his desk. Joints popped and creaked, reminding him that he'd been sitting still for far too long, but he ignored them and, instead, stared at a spot on the ceiling.

Once upon a time, Leo had told him that as long as he had a job, Josh had a job. After the fiasco with the diary, he had said something similar to Donna. If someone had told him back then that she was going to leave him, get a job with the opposition, and become their press point-person, he would have laughed himself blue in the face.

The facts, however, told a different story. That's what had happened and that bridge was forever burned. There was nothing he could do or say to change it.

A knock on his door startled him out of his rumination. Ronna smiled, rather uncomfortably, he noticed, and stepped into the room as he lowered his legs and swung around to face her.

"They need you in the conference room," she said softly.

"'Kay." He scrubbed his hands over his face and rolled his shoulders to loosen the tightness between his shoulder blades.

"For what it's worth," she continued, "you did what you had to do."

He paused and studied her. She knew nothing of his past with Donna -- of their ups and downs -- how she had stood by him though his recovery -- how he'd rushed to her side when . . . when she'd needed him. All Ronna had seen was what was on the surface and, yet, she knew.

"I know," he said, but he didn't think he sounded very convincing.

Ronna nodded and turned to leave, paused, and turned back to say, "She would have been a valuable asset, but it would have been hard on her. The press would have used her as a piñata. She has to know that, somewhere, deep down. She was angry when she left, but when the anger wears off, she'll pull herself up by her boot-straps and be fine. You watch. She'll be even better for it."

Josh smiled and stood, suddenly feeling less like an asshole and more like someone who had ultimately done the right thing. "Thanks."

Ronna smiled and walked away, leaving Josh to collect his thoughts. He gathered up the documents he needed for the meeting he was about to attend -- another in what promised to be a long line -- and smiled. Ronna was right. He'd done right by Donna and when she was over the initial hurt and anger, she would see it, too.

He just hoped it would be sooner than later.

End