Author's Notes:

The West Wing belongs to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, and whoever. Not me. A big shout out to my betas.

Josh Lyman is threatening to strangle me for the way I've been torturing Donna. I tossed him a muffin and told him to stuff it.

DONNA FALLS INTO A HOLE

Chapter V

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Donna explained for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning. "I don't know what you people are drinking, but … I. Am. Fine!"

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"If this is what you consider fine, I'd hate to see what you consider over the edge," Leo said.

She ignored him and stared down the rest of her attackers. "Who planned this?" she demanded to know. "Who the hell planned this?"

"I had to tell them," Margaret confessed from her position near the door to her and Charlie's office. When did you get here? "I dared you to go twenty-four hours without taking any pills. You could barely handle five. Remember?"

She whirled around to face Margaret. "You conniving little bitch!" she hissed. "It's no one's fucking business!" She pushed her traitorous ex-friend against the door and swung her arm to strike her. Before she could give the woman what she deserved, she felt someone grab her from behind in a bear hug.

"Take it easy, Donna," she heard Toby say in her ear. She squirmed to escape the man's grasp, but found his grip on her was too tight. She settled on kicking him in the shins.

"That what you do? Stick your nose in other people's business and run to Leo like some goddamned little snitch?" In the back of her head, she could hear people begging her to calm down.

"Don't you see, Donna?" CJ called out. "This is exactly what we're talking about."

Josh dug his hands into her shoulders. "The drugs severely mess with your moods." She could feel his breath tickling her nose. If Toby didn't have her arms pinned, she would have punched the smug bastard.

"Donna …" Margaret tried to cut in. The redhead was staring wide-eyed at her and trembling. That's right, you little shit. You should be scared. All she wanted to do at this moment was shake the bitch and thrash her until she bled. Unfortunately, Ziegler had other plans. No matter what she did, he refused to loosen his hold on her.

"Fuck off!" She could feel her rage ebbing out of her system and took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. She wanted the angry feeling to come back – anger at least she could handle.

"She came to me because she cares," Leo said.

Office of the Advisor to the President

Sometime in the Last Few Days

Leo sat down at his desk and motioned for his former assistant to take a seat. "So, what brings you here?" he asked.

"I'm helping CJ put together the newest edition of the White House Employee Protocol Manual," she answered. "Hypothetical situations regarding White House staffers and how the Chief of Staff should respond."

He shook his head. "And you thought I should give some pointers?" He didn't wait for a response. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, but CJ doesn't need a guide – she'll know how to respond. If a book existed that had all the answers – if I were her – I'd throw it away."

"I figured some input from you might help her out," Margaret continued. "She has pretty big shoes to fill." He didn't bother hiding the smirk tearing at the corners of his mouth. "So, you don't mind if I toss out some hypothetical situations at you?"

He leaned forward in his seat. "Fire away."

"If a staffer was suspected of having a drug problem, what is the appropriate course of action to take?"

Hypothetical my ass, he thought bitterly, but decided to play along for the time being, just to gauge the direction Margaret was taking this. "Each situation is different," he told his ex-assistant. "It would depend on the person, how long they've worked at the White House, what they're using, any extraneous circumstances, and if they're willing to get help."

He noticed the redheaded woman was twisting her bracelet around her wrist, something she tended to do when she was nervous. She let out a breath he hadn't realized she'd been holding. "So, she – they – wouldn't get fired?" she asked hesitantly.

He decided to ignore the slip. "Not unless they refuse treatment," he assured her. He lowered his voice and took the don't mess with Leo McGarry tone. "You know, if they discover someone on the staff has a drug problem and word gets out that you knew and didn't say anything, you could be in a lot of hot water. Maybe put your job on the line." He watched her squirm in her seat for a moment, before quickly adding: "Hypothetically speaking, of course." She was twisting her bracelet so vigorously he was afraid it would snap off and staring intently at a spot on the carpet. In all the years Margaret had worked for him, the former White House Chief of Staff had learned how to read her nonverbal signals. And her refusal to look at him when she had something to say that she felt would either piss him off or cause him unnecessary worry (especially now that he recently recuperated from a massive heart attack) was one of those signals. "Margaret, who …" he asked, his voice taking on a little gentler tone.

"It's Donna," she blurted out, finally raising her head to meet his gaze.

Office of the White House Chief of Staff

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Morning

"There is an unmarked sedan waiting outside to escort you to Andrews," the President said. "You are going to board a plane headed for Sierra Tucson. You will remain there until the doctors see you fit to return. Meanwhile, you will be placed on a medical leave of absence."

"What if I don't?" Toby, apparently believing her anger towards Margaret had dissipated, had loosened his grip, allowing her to wear holes in CJ's carpet.

Josh answered her question reluctantly. "I'd have to let you go." He ignored her snort. "You can't work here, not while you're like this."

"You know what, Joshua?" She yanked her White House ID badge from her neck and tossed it at her boss. "Screw you!" The sound of the slamming door reverberated throughout the room.

She felt like she was out of her body; it was someone else running down the corridor of the West Wing, someone else the shouts of "Donna!" "Donna, come back here!" were directed at. She wondered briefly if President Bartlet would order the Secret Service to stop her at the door. In all honesty, she could give two shits right now.

They were traitors. They ganged up on her. And for what? She was fine. She was dealing with things in her own way. They can't touch me. I'm impervious.

To be continued in Josh and Leo Jump Into the Hole