Chapter 9

She almost turned around in the parking lot, pausing and looking into her purse as though she'd forgotten something while questioning herself for the fifth time since leaving her apartment in a charcoal grey suit. Taking a few deeps breaths and reminding herself that she wasn't attending as a stalker, but as someone who knew and genuinely liked Mrs. Landingham, albeit for a short amount of time, she gained the courage to follow the somber crowd into the National Cathedral.

She walked through the metal detector and handed a security guard her purse, wishing she'd thought to take out her spare tampon. When he handed it back, she tried to smile and then walked from the foyer into the sanctuary, her eyes widening as she looked around the huge interior, supposedly large enough to lay the Washington Monument inside. She found herself a bit slack-jawed at the enormity of it, and even more so at how packed full of people it was.

As she took a seat in nearly the back row, she looked around and wondered how many people there had even met Mrs. Landingham. She knew organizations were being "represented," she'd been in DC long enough to know that politics weren't taking the day off simply because the President's executive secretary died, but she wondered if people felt as unsettled being there as she did. They must, she figured, because she'd at least known the woman, had conversations with her, eaten her homemade cookies that, although she'd never say it out loud, were better than her mother's. But she couldn't lie, at least not to herself. Just like the strangers around her, Mrs. Landingham was only part of the reason she was there.

She hadn't seen Josh since just before Christmas, when he'd looked absolutely horrible; pale and exhausted, detached and far too thin. But although she hadn't seen him, she'd heard the rumors. It was, after all, not a large city, and while the typical family inIowa had little idea of who Josh Lyman was, he was a minor celebrity in the district. So when someone from her office had met him at a party on New Year's Eve and gone home with him, she'd come in bragging about it the next day. And a few days later, when he collapsed in the West Wing and was rushed to the hospital, it'd been a top story on the local news and she'd once again had to fight the girl inside of her who wanted to drop everything and go to him. And when it was announced the next day that he had an infection from a cut on his hand that had spread, reporter after reporter had speculated on how the infection would affect his heart.

The rumors had died down soon after, and she hadn't heard anything about him for months until the death of Mrs. Landingham, twelve days shy of one year after the shooting at Rosslyn. And then came the pictures and the footage and the comparisons and the commentary that May was an unlucky month for the Bartlet Administration, infuriating her that someone would label such tragic events as simply unlucky. And once again, she found herself freefalling and worrying about him, needing to see for herself that he was ok, and she was reminded of something her mother once told her; that if it was real, her love for Josh would never disappear completely.

So there she sat, listening to people speak of a woman who'd lost two sons in Vietnam and a husband not long after. She already knew those things; they'd discussed Mrs. Landingham's sons and the uncle Donna had never met one afternoon when the older woman asked her about her family and Donna mentioned that her father had fought in Vietnam. But she didn't know about her work with early women's rights groups in the fifties or her volunteer work at homeless shelters as she grew older. There was only so much you could know about someone as quiet as Mrs. Landingham.

President Bartlet stood to speak, the secret service agents inching in towards the podium, and she sighed and wondered what kind of funeral Mrs. Landingham would have wanted had she been given the choice. What it would've been like if her husband had still been alive to make the arrangements. She looked around at the dark suits and crowded pews, doubtful she would've wanted the fuss, and wondered if anyone had thought of that.

The President spoke of dedication and kindness and friendship. Of a woman who pushed him, who taught him, who took care of him, who loved him, and whom he loved, and for a brief moment she wondered if had she stayed with Josh, he ever would've spoken that way about her.

At the end of the service Josh, Toby, and Sam, as well as three men she didn't recognize carried Mrs. Landingham's coffin down the long aisle, and although he kept his head straight ahead and his gaze down, she could tell that he was better than the last time she'd seen him. He was heavier, filled his suit out better, and had more color. And although he looked tired, it wasn't the pure look of exhaustion she'd seen five months earlier.

She walked slowly out of the church with the gathering crowd and watched as they loaded the coffin into the hearse. There were only fifty, maybe seventy-five people outside at the time, and for a second she worried that he might see her. And for a second after that, she hoped he would.

She'd thought of it, of seeing him, talking to him, using the Council's name to get through to his office, her imagination picturing it in the best of terms. She'd give his assistant her name and it wouldn't be ten seconds later that he'd pick up the phone and with an excited voice say, 'Donnatella?' And she'd laugh at him and call him Joshua and he'd be ecstatic to hear that she lived in town. And a half hour later, they'd be sitting in a coffee shop talking about law school and position papers and her move there and in no time at all, he'd look across the table and tilt his head. And when she asked what he was looking at, he'd tell her that she was different, grown-up, and he'd ask her to dinner. And it would be perfect.

She shook it off and looked through the now larger crowd towards him again. He had his sunglasses on and was talking with a young black man who'd read a scripture at the service. Josh patted his back and the young man dipped his head a little and smiled slightly, nodding. When he looked back up, Josh was smiling back at him, his dimples barely there in the somber mood, but the younger man's smile broadened and he stood taller just the same. And at that, she smiled herself and turned, walking to her car.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

She glanced at her watch again, for what she figured was at least the fifth time since class started, willing the hands to move faster. She hoped Jeff was taking good notes, because she was too excited and nervous to take decent ones herself. The first four "First Chance" classes had finished the fifteen week course she and Liz had proposed and a group of twelve educators had helped develop. In the six weeks since the course ended, evaluations had been done by preschool and kindergarten teachers, recommendations had been made by participants and elementary principals, the mayors of New York, Detroit, Fort Myers and Seattle had all weighed in, and it was time to take the next step. She had a meeting at one o'clock that afternoon with Michelle, Liz, and the Board of Directors to discuss exactly what that next step would be and how much funding they'd receive for it, and it was all she could do to stay seated in her class, much less actually pay attention.

The professor dismissed them a few minutes later, and had it not been for the fact that she hadn't actually aged, she would've sworn she'd been sitting there for a decade. She jumped up quickly and started stuffing things into her attaché case as Jeff stood next to her and watched her with a chuckle.

"So," he said casually as they walked out of the lecture hall together. "I've been thinking about what you said."

She looked over at him in his loose fitting jeans, a Georgetown t-shirt, and sandals that were hardly appropriate for late October. "What did I say, exactly?"

"That a date is more than an action movie and pizza."

She paused briefly, barely noticeable in her steps. "You're bringing this up now, when I have a huge meeting at work today?" she asked while walking quickly through the building and out main doors.

"Hey," he said indignantly. "You questioned my ability to properly impress a woman. I'm a man. I can't leave that unanswered." They'd been circling around this dating thing for about a month, after meeting in 'Church-State Law Seminar' and teaming up for a case study. His idea of romance seemed to be getting extra cheese on a large pizza and watching some over-muscled guy who couldn't act blow things up, yet was surprised that Donna hadn't fallen head over heels.

"Clearly," she deadpanned. "But I don't have time to play with you right now. I, unlike others of us here, have a job."

"Like it's my fault my parents are rich," he said as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Anyway, I don't want to argue. I simply want to prove myself," he said with a grin.

She raised her eyebrows. "You do?"

"I do indeed."

"And how do you intend to do this?" she asked skeptically.

He held two tickets in front of her face. "'Carmina Burana' is playing at the Kennedy Center. I intend on taking you to dinner tomorrow night and then to the ballet."

Her eyes widened. It seemed the dancing was over. "Excuse me?"

"I might even bring you flowers."

They continued walking, heading a few blocks over where she could catch a cab. "Jeff, I…"

He cut her off. "So, tomorrow night… you in a dress that shows far more skin than you're showing now. Me in a suit and tie…"

She looked down at the pantsuit she had on and laughed at his audacity, her very favorite thing about his charm. Glancing appraisingly over at him, she raised an eyebrow. "Do you even own a suit?"

"I do," he said with a smirk. "And I don't want to brag, but … well, let's just say, I've gotten compliments."

She shook her head at him, rolling her eyes in a gesture that did nothing to hide the smile on her face. They reached an empty cab then and he opened the door for her. She looked at him in surprise and he smiled. "See? I'm impressing you already. Good luck at your meeting today," he said with a wink, shutting the door and watching as the cab pulled away.

Ten minutes later, she stood in the elevator wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt and reminding herself to breathe. It was just the Board of Directors, she told herself for the tenth time that day. They were on her side. Unless, of course, they thought "First Chance" was a horrible, wretched program with no hopes of helping anyone. Then they'd be on the side of firing her.

She glanced up into the mirror in the elevator and noticed she was pacing. She took a deep breath, reeling in her imagination and told herself again that everything would be fine. She wasn't new at this anymore. She'd been at the Council for over a year; she'd worked on several programs; she wasn't some naïve college dropout. This program was her baby. Her first. She'd seen it from the beginning and she was ready for this meeting.

The elevator opened as she finished her pep talk and Liz was standing on the other side, leaning against the wall opposite it. "We've got major problems," she said in a hushed voice without so much as a hello.

Donna's eyes nearly bugged out of her head and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. She thought she might collapse right there on the elevator floor, but somehow stepped quickly out and grabbed Liz by the arm, practically dragging her down the hallway and into their shared office. When they were both inside, she ducked her head back out and looked both ways down the hallway before shutting the door and turning around sharply. "What?" she nearly screamed.

"Mayor Engleman rescinded his statement and sent out another saying that 'First Chance' is…" she looked down at a piece of paper in her hand and Donna started pacing again. "… 'an ill-advised program developed by teachers who are obviously out of touch with educating today's youth. It's a waste of government money and an affront to every single teenage mother in America.'"

Donna stopped pacing and looked with horror in her eyes at Liz, either faint or queasy, but not sure which. "When…but he raved…" She couldn't believe what was happening. "What the hell changed his mind?" she shouted, grabbing the piece of paper out of Liz's hand. When she looked down to read it, the paper was blank and Liz started laughing. Confusion hit her and it took several seconds to realize what was happening. "You…" she took a deep, long breath and looked back up. "I'm going to have to kill you now," she said in an eerily calm voice.

Liz ignored her and kept laughing as she walked to her desk, sitting down casually with a large smile on her face. "I haven't had that much fun in months."

"You're an evil, evil woman," Donna said, trying to regain control of her breathing.

"Yes, I know. But aren't you more relaxed than you were before?"

"No!" she nearly shouted. "My blood pressure's about 250 over 190 and my pulse is in some sort of race!"

"Hmm…" Liz said. "I hadn't considered that reaction."

"Elizabeth!"

"You're fine."

"I'm so not fine," she said as she started pacing again.

"These people are on our side, Donna."

She glanced at her but kept pacing. "I tried that logic in the elevator. It didn't work."

Liz chuckled and stood up, walking to Donna and putting her hands on her shoulders, stopping her. "Donna. Have you ever been more prepared for a meeting than you are this one?"

Donna started to say something then stopped and looked at her for several seconds. "No."

"Can you think of any question, any question at all, that they could ask that you or I wouldn't have the answer to?"

She shook her head and let out a long breath. "No."

"Tell me again why this meeting is important?"

"Because…" she looked up and paused, taking another deep breath and replying calmly. "Because people need this program."

Liz smiled and nodded. "Are you going to let those people down?"

"Absolutely not."

"Good. Let's go."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

She haphazardly started tossing things into a box she found in the office kitchen while Liz was on a phone call. A coffee mug with pencils and pens in it, her tape dispenser, a stapler and staple remover, three black trays... everything that wasn't breakable was tossed into the box.

A minute later, Liz hung up the phone and sighed heavily. "Liz…" Donna scoffed, pulling things out of her second drawer and tossing them towards the box.

She sighed again. "You're leaving me. I feel like I'm getting divorced."

Donna chuckled. "I'm moving all of seven offices away. I think you'll manage."

"But it's a whole different department," Liz whined.

It had been three weeks since Donna was offered a position in the legal/legislative department at the Council. She still had a year left at Georgetown, so when Cathy left, she was surprised that Michelle offered her the position. Still, she'd jumped at the chance, waiting to transition just long enough to finish her spring semester finals.

"Look at the bright side. If I flunk out of law school, they're moving me back here," she said with a chuckle.

"Miss 'Straight A' flunking out? I don't see it happening," Liz replied gloomily.

Donna smirked. "Neither do I."

Liz sighed again, exaggerated and with a bit of a whine to it. "Pretty soon it'll be like we don't even know each other."

"No it won't."

"Yes it will. In a month, you'll have forgotten me just like you did Jeff."

Donna looked up and furrowed her brow. "What?"

"Once you didn't have class with Jeff anymore it was over. You dropped him like Julia Roberts did Kiefer Sutherland when they finished filming that stupid movie together about the doctors. It'll be like that with us. Once we're not around each other, you'll drop me."

"Ok, but Jeff was hardly Kiefer Sutherland and you and I aren't sleeping together. You're aware of that, correct?"

"Still…"

"You need professional help," Donna said with a chuckle, picking up the box. "Come on, I'll show you my new digs. You'll see… it's not that far away."

Liz stuck her bottom lip out and stood up. "Can I come visit?"

Donna laughed. "Everyday."

She sighed again. "Ok."

Donna shook her head and watched as Liz grabbed a picture of Donna with her parents off the nearly empty desk and a plant off a tall filing cabinet. "Oh no…"

"It's a gift," she said smirking, walking to the door and holding it open for Donna. They walked down the hallway together and around a corner to Donna's new office, Liz mumbling about a completely different hallway and Donna promising they'd be in the same time zone.

She spent the better part of the afternoon setting up her new office, not stopping until Michelle popped her head in around four o'clock. "I don't know your intercom number."

Donna looked over at the phone and shrugged. "Neither do I."

"Well that should be convenient," she said, glancing around the room.

Donna smiled and stood up. "Need something?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a step inside and closing the door behind her. "I need you to sit in on a meeting with someone from the Women's Leadership Coalition with me."

"Kay. When?"

"Now. She's in my office bitching about the Welfare Reform Bill Reauthorization vote on Friday."

"I'm not completely up to speed on that yet."

"That's ok. No one else likes meeting with her, she's not overly friendly." Donna's eyes widened. "I'm kidding, except not really. You don't need to say anything. I just want you there so it looks like I'm taking her seriously."

"But you're not?" Donna asked as she followed Michelle out of her office and down the hallway to Michelle's.

Michelle gripped the door handle and looked back at Donna. "Absolutely not, so don't give her false hope," she said quietly. She opened the door and a woman stood up as Michelle and Donna walked in. "Amy, this is Donna Moss from our legal/legislative department. Donna, Amy Gardner. Amy's the director of the Women's Leadership Coalition."

Donna smiled and shook the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you."

The woman smiled back, looking almost as though she were in pain and Michelle waved them back into seats. "I was just telling Michelle that three hundred million dollars is being added to the Welfare Reform Reauthorization for marriage incentives and we have to move fast to stop it."

"You want to delay the vote?" asked Donna.

"No, I want it to fail," she replied.

"It's a republican congress, Amy," Michelle said. "Not everything goes our way."

"Cash bonuses to moms who marry the father of their children and lose all rights to any past due child support?" Donna looked over at Michelle; it was a crappy addition and they all knew it.

Michelle ignored her and looked back at Amy. "Have you spoken with the American Children's Alliance? We pretty much let them have this one."

"I've spoken to them. They're hesitant to get involved."

"Why?" Donna asked.

"They're happy with other parts of the bill."

"There's a billion dollars for childcare in it," Michelle said, looking at Donna.

"A billion dollars?" Donna asked, stunned. The Alliance had asked for only half that. "We can't come out against a bill that gives a billion dollars to childcare."

"They're coercing women to marry these deadbeats," Amy said in a strained voice.

Donna nodded, but a billion for childcare was unbelievable. "I understand that. Have you spoken with the White House?"

Amy glared at her. "Of course I've spoken with the White House. I've been over this with Josh Lyman so many times I could scream."

"Aren't the two of you…" Michelle trailed off as Donna's head snapped to her and then back to Amy.

"Doesn't mean he isn't an ass," Amy mumbled before looking back at Michelle. "This is a crappy deal and he's welcoming it."

And just like that, Donna hated Amy Gardner. "Welcoming it?" she asked incredulously.

"He put this deal together," Amy said matter-of-factly.

She couldn't believe it. This woman was a taller version of Mandy Hampton. Josh might be brilliant, but Donna was certain he had horrendous taste in women. "Then I'm sure he got more than he gave."

"He gave away women."

"He most certainly did not give away women. Josh has never failed to do everything in his power for women and children. Not a day goes by that he's not fighting…"

"Donna…"

She looked over at Michelle and her eyes widened. It took a few seconds to find her voice again. "I…" she stammered before looking back at Amy. She took a deep breath and bit back the venom in her voice. "Marriage incentives are crap. I understand that, I really do. And I understand that women are your top priority, but children are ours and a billion dollars in childcare is absolutely huge."

Amy held her stare for several seconds before dismissing her and turning to Michelle. "Michelle?"

"I'll call the White House and make sure they know we're unhappy about the marriage incentives. But we're six months from the election, Amy. We're not doing anything to give Ritchie an edge."

Amy looked down at her lap before standing up. She reached for the door before turning back. "We're going to continue fighting this, just so you know."

"Absolutely," Michele said, nodding.

She looked at Donna and without another word, left. Donna stared at the door she'd just walked through, and then looked over at Michelle. "Sorry," she said quietly.

"I thought you weren't going to say anything."

"Yeah, me too."

Michelle's serious face disappeared and a faint smirk replaced it. "I told you she wasn't overly friendly."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

She woke up at six and went for her morning jog, something she'd only been doing for a few months, since visiting her parents over spring break and going out for what she thought would be a relaxing run with her father. Her inability to keep up had humiliated her and she'd come immediately back to DC and added a three mile jog to her daily schedule, quickly finding herself addicted to the freedom it seemed to offer.

It was pouring down rain outside, mocking her as she ran through the streets of Georgetown, but she couldn't be brought down that morning. As far as she was concerned, the sun was out and the sticky July heat was cool and comforting.

She got back to the apartment and kicked off her wet shoes, getting directly into the hot shower. The water pressure wasn't as good as it had been at her apartment in Logan Circle, but the rent was free and she was living in Georgetown, so she found it hard to complain.

She turned on her stereo when she got out of the shower, the soundtrack to "One Fine Day" playing oldies loudly while she finished getting ready for work, putting on her favorite suit and spending a few extra minutes on her hair and make-up. She had a ten o'clock meeting with Congressmen Wilson and Allen on a new bill the Council was proposing, pre-school programs for children with special needs, and she was going to wow them.

Once she was ready, she put on her trench coat, grabbed her umbrella, and headed to her car. The Baked and Wired down the street had a line outside the door, so she skipped it and headed for the gas station.

It was busy that morning at the Shell station, and she had to wait a few minutes for a free pump. A Tahoe pulled out, giving her an opening, and she opened her umbrella and stayed carefully underneath it as she got out and swiped her credit card, then started pumping the gas. Once it was flowing steadily, she went inside to get a cup of coffee.

The coffee station was a mess; paper napkins rolled up and strew about, spilt coffee on the counter, empty packets of cream and sugar lying everywhere. She paused for a second, re-thinking gas station coffee, then held her coat back as she reached for a Styrofoam cup so it wouldn't get into the mess.

She poured the coffee, that if nothing else, smelled fresh, and added a packet of cream and a half a packet of Sweet 'n Low to it before taking a sip and sighing. There was no doubt; it was a drug. She reached into her pocket for a dollar and stepped into the line at the counter just as the person in front of her finished up. She heard him say thanks, but hadn't had time to process the fact that she knew that voice before he turned around stopped her heart.

It was like every time she'd seen him in the last four years. Time stopped, breathing ceased, there was nothing but him, and she could do nothing but study him. His face, his chest moving with his breathing, the pure brown of his eyes, the crevices in his cheeks that held his dimples... He was simply the most beautiful man she'd ever met, strong and powerful and heroic and she tilted her head a bit to the side and smiled at his drenched clothing and crooked tie. "Hi," she breathed out.

"Uhh...hi."

His voice brought her back to reality and she blinked and focused on his eyes, questioning and wide. "Donna. Donna Moss," she said, reminding him, willing him to remember her. But his face showed no recollection, and just as he'd stopped her heart a moment earlier, he shredded it to pieces as he stared at her blankly, as if he'd never seen her before in his life. "I…" she choked out, trying to keep the tears swimming in her eyes from falling down her face. "…volunteered for the Bartlet for America campaign for a while. I was…" she trailed off, silently pleading with him to remember her.

He smiled at her, apolitical, impersonal smile, and shook her hand, answering the question she thought she'd never have an answer to. No, she'd never meant a thing to him. "Well, Donna," he said politely. "We appreciate the hard work you did for the President's campaign."

She looked at him with wide eyes, his cold hand clasped with hers, and she wanted to sob. To tell that she loved him, that she always had. Couldn't he see that? Couldn't he see that he was killing her as he stood there not knowing her? That in her whole life, the hardest thing she'd ever done was to walk away from him, but that this was a thousand times harder? "It was…" she stammered, trying to keep from falling to the ground in a boneless heap. "It was an honor," she said as bravely as possible, her eyes faltering and focusing on his lips.

He nodded at her then and with another fake smile walked past her, tears falling down her face even before the bell rang over the door as he passed underneath and left the building.