TITLE: People Move On

AUTHOR: Micky Fine

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never ever will be. Such sadness overwhelms me.

SUMMARY: You read that already, do you really want another one?

SPOILERS: See first chapter.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to all the very lovely people who reviewed; your comments were greatly appreciated. Now I know everyone is very eager for Donna to return but we're going to have to prolong that for just a bit. This chapter is entirely from Donna's POV. The words in italics are for…well, I'm sure you can figure out to whom those belong. Reviews framed and placed on my Hall of Praise.

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I open my eyes and am immediately enthralled with the ceiling tiles above my head. They aren't right for a hotel room. And now that I think about it, this bed is too soft and the duvet is far too plush. I briefly consider the theory that I've been transported out of my Maine hotel room to some hotel heaven by aliens when I suddenly remember where I am. I'm back in Wisconsin. I'm back in my old apartment in which nothing, including the patterns drawn in the dust on the top of the dresser, has changed. I'm back with Brett.

I know the last one is a bit of a shocker. Even for me. But he called me a week and a half ago and told me how much he loved me. That he wasn't serious about the girl with whom Stephanie had seen him. I still wasn't going to come back. And then he pulled out the big gun. He proposed. He said he'd realized what a huge mistake he'd made and how he wanted me in his life permanently. I came back.

I pull my hand out from under the covers and study my engagement ring. It's gold with a rather conspicuous diamond nestled amongst emeralds. It's a little too flashy for my tastes but Brett seems to love it and I don't want to have a fight over an engagement ring after being here for such a short time.

I roll over to face the clock and start at the fact that it's almost eleven o'clock in the morning. Then I remember that I don't have to go to work. I left. To come back I had to leave and I didn't even give anyone a decent goodbye. I stifle the urge to call Josh. I've had to do that more times than I can count since I returned to Wisconsin and it hasn't gotten any easier. In fact, it gets harder every time. I place my hand on the phone and I'm prepared to dial the familiar number when I hear the door slam and Brett calls out my name. I slowly draw my hand back, roll out of bed and wander in the direction of the kitchen.

"Good morning, Pooky."

"Pooky? You've got to be kidding me. Could someone gag me right now?"

"Hey."

He kisses me and then saunters off towards the fridge. I casually thumb through the newspaper on the table, watching him out of the corner of my eye. This should feel normal. I should want this. I'm going to be doing this every day for the rest of my life.

"The rest of your life? He's going to call you Pooky every morning? Are you really sure you prefer this over doing research on the voting trends in northern Maine?"

Why is it I can only think about what I'd be doing on the campaign right now? Why is it that Josh has somehow taken up residence in my brain?

I shake my head, hoping to rid it of mental Josh's nagging and turn to Brett.

"I thought you'd be at work all day today."

"Oh, I'm going back. I just thought I'd come home and have lunch with my best girl."

"That's sweet."

"Puh-lease."

I seat myself at the kitchen table while Brett makes BLT's at the counter. I find myself searching the paper for news of the campaign and I'm not disappointed. On page six there's an article on the growing support in the Democratic Party for Governor Bartlet. The photo is from an event we did just before I left. In the foreground, the Governor is shaking hands with one of the local teachers but I'm surprised to see Josh and myself in the background. We're smothering laughter and I try to remember why. Looking at the caption of the photograph I suddenly remember. The teacher who is with the Governor is named Mr. Snodgrass. Now that I think about it, the name isn't that funny.

"If you were operating on only four hours of sleep it would still be funny. Hilarious even."

"Honey, can you pass me the scissors?"

"Sure."

Brett hands me the scissors and glances at what I'm reading. Then he gives me a long look.

"I thought you were over the whole politics thing."

"What do you mean?"

"I just thought that since you've come back the whole campaign charade would disappear."

"Charade?"

"Donna, I know you only joined that campaign so that I'd realize how much I needed you."

"Is he always this egotistical?"

"Brett, that's not why I worked on the campaign."

He gives me a skeptical look.

"It's not."

"Ok, Donna, I believe you."

"Somehow, I don't think he does."

"Besides, just because I don't work for Bartlet for America anymore doesn't mean I can't take an interest in the campaign. I made friends there and I want to know how they're doing."

"How many good friends could you have possibly made with a bunch of boring and corrupt politicians?"

"Hey!"

"They were neither of those things, Brett. Those are good people trying to ensure that a good man has the chance to run this country."

"Thanks, Donna."

"Whatever, let's not talk about it anymore."

"No, Brett, I'm not finished."

Brett gazes at me coolly and places my sandwich and a glass of juice before me. The ice in his eyes causes a chill to run up and down my spine and I feel my will falter.

"Yes, you are."

"Ok, I'm done," I murmur.

"Donna! Don't let that jerk push you around."

I ignore mental Josh, attempt to lock him up in a corner of my mind and turn my attention to my lunch. While chewing I place the newspaper and scissors on the chair besides me with the intent of adding the article to my collection of campaign paraphernalia I have in a shoebox in my underwear drawer.

We finish eating and Brett seems to have warmed up a little bit so I decide to broach the subject that's been on my mind ever since I got back.

"Brett, can I show you something before you go back to work?"

"Sure, but quickly. I have a consult in half an hour."

I rush into the living room and pull out the catalogues I've stowed in my half of the bookcase. Brett is standing in the front hall and gives a sigh of impatience that I can hear as I open a catalogue to one of the pages I've marked with a Post-it tab. I scurry towards the hall and place the glossy college course calendar before my fiancé.

"What's this?"

"Well, you'll be done your residency in May and I thought that I'd take a couple spring courses to get back into scholarly mode."

Brett briefly glances at the political science, government, and history courses I've highlighted in the catalogue and then gives me a look I don't understand.

"What do you think?"

"I think I can't get into this with you right now. We'll talk about this tonight."

"Ok."

I lock the door behind Brett when he exits the apartment. Then I grab up my course calendar and plop down into our overstuffed couch. I skim the listings again and find a few more courses that sound fascinating which I subsequently highlight. I attempt to squash the gnawing feeling in my gut and to reassure myself I speak aloud.

"Everything's going to be fine. He'll finish his residency. I'll finish college. We'll get married and live happily ever after."

This briefly assuages my fears until my own damn Jiminy Cricket, voiced by the annoying Josh Lyman, pipes up.

"Happily ever after? The two of you can't even have lunch without him acting like an insensitive, egotistical, self-centered, misogynistic jerk. I really don't think 'My Blue Heaven' is in the cards for you two. Get out now."

I resist the urge to beat my head against the table repeatedly and instead simply smother mental Josh. I definitely don't need to imagine my former boss's comments on my life. I'm sure someone with a medical license would consider it unhealthy.

----

Brett comes home late while I'm watching a re-run of Bewitched. He goes into the kitchen without greeting me. I hear the fridge door open and close and then the hum of the microwave. There's the brief rattle of silverware in the drawer and then Brett re-enters the living room and sits down on the couch beside me, scooping up the remote as he does so. Before even taking a bite he changes the channel to a demolition derby in Kentucky. I swallow my annoyance at his lack of consideration and simply wait for him to talk to me.

And I wait.

And I wait.

He doesn't speak to me until nearly two hours after he's been home. I'm in the bath, trying to avoid the temptation of playing with the bubbles. Not trying very hard mind you. I've already made myself a bubble tiara when he pokes his head in and asks for admittance. I let him in and idly move bubbles from one hand to another as he begins to talk to me.

"Hey, Donna. I'm sorry I was so short with you at lunch today."

I take this opportunity to give him my own cold shoulder. I can dish it out just as well as he can.

"Oh, c'mon Donna, don't be like that. I didn't mean to insult what you did for that Governor guy and I'm sure all the people there are very nice. I think I'm just a little jealous that they can still influence you."

"What do you mean?"

"I just feel like you're not sure that you really want to be here and that you'd rather be in some cramped building with 300 other people who all want to elect some man from New Hampshire."

"Oh, Brett, I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you feel like that. Besides, I came back to you, didn't I? And I'm never going to leave. I love you."

"I love you too."

He kisses me and afterwards swipes some bubbles off my chin. He walks out and I smile as I sink back down into my tub. This time everything will work. We'll be happy and we'll get married and everything will be just fine.

"Sure."

"Shut up," I say to no one but the Josh in my head.

----

"Brett?"

"Yeah, Pooky?"

"Can I talk to you about something before I leave?"

"You're going out?"

"I told you, I'm going to spend the weekend with Gram."

"Oh, right. What's up?"

"Well, I hate to keep bringing this up but I was wondering if you'd thought any more about my taking spring courses."

"Not really, Donna, no."

"Oh."

"I just don't see why you want to take any courses anyways. We're going to be married in November and you don't really need a college degree to be married."

"But Brett, when I dropped out you said…"

"I know what I said. And if you really want to go to college I won't stop you but I still don't think you need a degree to be a housewife and raise kids."

"A housewife? When did we decide that I would be staying home? I thought I was going to be working."

"Pooky, you won't need to work. I'm a doctor. Besides you worked enough when you put me through school."

"But what if I want to work?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

I'm about to explain to my apparently very dense fiancé my desire to obtain a degree and continue working when I catch sight of the clock on the wall.

"Damn, I need to go if I want to get to Gram's at a decent hour. I'll call you when I get there."

"No, don't. I probably won't be home. I promised some of the guys I'd meet them for some drinks down at The Grilled Cheese."

The Grilled Cheese is Brett's favorite bar. I don't understand why, it smells funny, all the drinks are ridiculously expensive and the service sucks. But he likes to go there anyway.

"I'll call you tomorrow morning then."

"No earlier than eleven."

"Ok. Bye."

I give him a quick peck on the cheek; grab my overnight bag and my keys and head out the door.

----

I love driving at night. I know that may seem odd but I find it relaxing. Surrounded by darkness, I feel like I'm encompassed in a warm comfy bubble in the middle of space somewhere. It's a comfortable and reassuring isolation.

I'm only ten miles outside of Madison and I have at least an hour and a half of driving ahead of me. I'm forced to guiltily admit, even if it is only to myself, that it's relief to have a weekend away from Brett. Maybe it's just the time we've spent apart but we seem to fight more now. And I've always got the thought in the back of my head that I can't remember why I left such an amazing job for this guy. But then he does something fantastically sweet or charming and then I remember. He loves me and that's why I came back and why I'm staying.

Fifteen miles from Madison I'm humming along with a song on the radio and tapping the steering wheel when I hear the car ahead of me honk. I can't see what he's honking at or why he just swerved but I turn down my music and start searching the road and the ditches on both sides for potential wildlife hazards. And then I see it.

It's a large black sedan with its headlights off driving towards me. Well, weaving towards me would be more accurate. It's immediately obvious that the driver is drunk. I honk, hoping he'll slow down or stop. He does neither but continues to come towards me, possibly faster than before. I decide that continuing to drive is safer than stopping and being unable to avoid this drunken menace. I continue driving and flip my headlights hoping that maybe the driver will get the hint. He doesn't. The car is now maybe only twenty feet from me when suddenly he swerves into my lane.

I don't even have time to swear as I swerve into the ditch. The idiot in the other car now returns back to his own lane. I sigh in relief and turn off my engine. I pull my hands off the wheel. They're shaking slightly and I try to breathe deeply. I've only just calmed down enough to consider continuing to Gram's when the whole car shakes, there's a crunching sound from my car door, and my whole body is wrenched by gravity towards the opposite side of the car. As I stare dazedly out the window I realize I've been hit.

----

I wince and give a hiss of pain as the paramedic tries to rotate my ankle. He stops quickly, writes something down on a chart and sits down on the bench bolted down on one side of the ambulance.

"What's the verdict?"

"You should ask the doctor that when we get to the hospital."

"Yeah, but he's probably going to tell me exactly what you've written down on that chart so how about you just tell me?"

"Fine. It looks like you have a minor sprain. And I think you're in a little bit of shock."

"Well, try being T-boned by a minivan while parked in a ditch and then having your car roll onto its side. You might be shocked too."

"Ms. Moss, you don't need to be hostile."

"I'm sorry. I just don't see why I need to go to the hospital. I'm not seriously hurt."

"I can't tell you that for certain. The doctors at the hospital are going to want to do a few more tests just to make sure that you've got nothing more than a sprained ankle."

"Fine. You win. Do you mind if I call my fiancé so that he can come pick me up?"

"Nah."

I call Brett's cell phone and he picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Brett, it's Donna."

"You're not there already are you?"

"No. Brett, honey, I don't want you to worry but I was in a car accident."

"You were in an accident?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way to the hospital right now. Can you meet me there and then drive me home? I won't be able to drive to Gram's. My car's wrecked and I have a sprained ankle."

"Sure, I'll leave now."

"Thanks, Brett. Love you."

"Bye."

I hang up and smile at the paramedic. He smiles back and says, "We're almost there. An hour tops and you should be home again."

"Great."

----

I've been here almost three hours. Three hours. Not because I've had to wait or because the doctors are direly concerned about me. I was whisked to a doctor immediately and given a clean bill of health in less than thirty minutes. No, I've been waiting here because Brett hasn't shown up yet. I'm about to call for a cab when he suddenly waltzes into the waiting room where I've been sitting in the most uncomfortable plastic chair in creation.

He looks around and is about to approach a nurse when I call out his name.

"Brett!"

"Donna!"

He rushes over to me, scoops me up in a hug and kisses me. I'm enjoying this exuberant greeting when it hits me. His mouth tastes like beer. I pull away quickly.

"Brett, where have you been?"

"Oh, Donna I was so worried about you. How's your ankle? Was there anything else wrong?"

"Apart from my ankle I'm just fine. Now where were you?"

"I was coming here. Traffic was awful."

"Brett, it does not take three hours to drive from the apartment to the hospital. You can walk here in ten minutes. Where were you?"

"Well, I went to find flowers but all the shops were closed and…"

"Nice try. Your mouth tastes like a beer. You went to The Grilled Cheese with the guys tonight didn't you? That's where you've been. You stopped for a beer before coming to get your fiancée."

"Is that such a big deal? I did promise the guys I would meet them."

"You stopped for a beer, Brett!"

"I'm sorry."

I roll my eyes.

"Brett, this isn't going to work."

"What do you mean?"

"You and me. We just don't fit anymore. We can't get married if you're more concerned about meeting the guys for a beer than you are about your fiancée in the hospital."

"Oh, Donna, don't be this way."

"Yes, Brett, I am going to be this way. Now if you would leave that would make me very happy. I'll have my brothers come and pick up my stuff from the apartment next week."

"Donna!"

"Goodbye, Brett."

I watch Brett walk away and then hobble over to the pay phone to call a cab.

"YES! Goodbye, Dr. Freeride!"

I smile.

----

I timidly step into this unfamiliar campaign office in New York City. A helpful volunteer I'd called in the Maine office yesterday had told me that Josh and Toby had come here to prepare for Super Tuesday. I hang my coat up on the rack near the door and start orientating myself.

After getting the basic lay of the land I head for the coffeepot. I will definitely need caffeine before I can face Josh. However, when I'm only a few feet away from the corner where the pot and the associated paraphernalia are situated a familiar figure swoops in. Josh. I feel the butterflies begin to do the polka in my stomach but squaring my shoulders I decide now is as good a time as any other to approach him.

I close the distance. Timidly I touch his shoulder.

"Josh?"

To be continued…