Chapter 8

The office is quiet on Saturday; too quiet. Senior staff is there, but it's Christmas Eve and most of the assistants have taken off, which leaves him with little to do and too much time to think. And that's what he does; running their situation around his mind over and over until he feels like his head is going to explode.

He doesn't know what to do if the congressman won't run. He doesn't have any one else in mind, save Leo, who wouldn't do it, and even if he could think of someone else, there wouldn't be time to put it together. There's barely enough time with ?xml:namespace prefix st1 ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" / Santos. So if he doesn't run, Donna's definitely gone. It's a thought he can barely stomach.

Unfortunately, it's not the worst case scenario, and he's going to have to come to grips with that. The congressman might decide to run and Donna might still decide to work for Russell. He's still having problems wrapping his mind around that; around them working against each other for months. He doesn't know how that would work, especially with this new dimension to their relationship. Staying away from her would be impossible, but being with her and pretending he's ok with her decision to work for Russell might be just as impossible.

And then there's what she said at the hotel; he's been kicking that around for the last twenty-four hours. What did she mean when she questioned his need for her? He doesn't understand that; doesn't understand why it isn't ok to need her both personally and professionally. He's always needed her that way, even when the personal was just friendship. Why is it suddenly a sin to need her in every way imaginable?

But there's also what he said at the hotel. Why wouldn't he have slept with her had he known she'd accepted the position with Russell? He still can't believe that had been his gut reaction, and it makes him wonder if that means part of him wants to see her as the innocent, wide-eyed, idealistic girl he met years ago. She told him she's not that girl anymore, and the truth is that if he's taught her all she knows, then he's a large part of the reason she's isn't, so to hold it against her now would be unfair.

Was he wrong? Was sleeping with her his last ditch effort to get her to stay with him? Or was it that he thought she might leave him, and he couldn't let her go without showing her what she meant to him? He tosses that around all day, but he doesn't really think it's either of those. He thinks more than anything that he never expected her to say no, and so in his mind they'd already left the White House and were running Santos' campaign. And in his mind, when they're running that campaign, they're partners in every sense of the word.

But now he's worried that he's screwed up. That he took that huge next step at the worst possible time and ruined any chance at the relationship they're destined to have. And of all the thoughts that run through his mind on Saturday, that's the one that scares him the most.

By seven o'clock, he's accomplished nothing except reading the latest draft of next year's budget and confusing himself. So when Toby comes into his office and asks if he wants to try to find an open restaurant, he says yes even though he's not really hungry. It doesn't take them long to realize that their only option is going to be Asian food of some sort, so they head into China Town and eat at a tiny restaurant that's filthy but has fabulous food.

After they've eaten, when they're picking through their leftover rice and talking about the fact that the president is so weak that he and Mrs. Bartlet have decided not to go to New Hampshire for Christmas, Josh's phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and his heart breaks a little when he sees Donna's name flash on the screen. He glances at Toby and then looks down and answers with a quiet, "Hey."

"Hi," she says softly herself.

"How's Madison?"

"It's… good. It's good."

Her voice gives away the lie, but he plays along. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. How was work today?"

"Quiet."

"Must've been. I called there first; you left early."

"I wasn't getting anything done without…" he stops and closes his eyes. "Without anyone there." They both know he means without her there, but she doesn't call him on it and even though he's grateful for that, he hates that they're tiptoeing around like this.

"Have you heard from the congressman?"

He looks up at Toby, then stands up and walks over towards the window where nobody's sitting. "No." He spent most of the day telling himself that it was ok, because the congressman said he wouldn't be calling until after Christmas, but he doesn't really believe it. He thinks it's a bad sign that Santos isn't so excited about this that he can't wait to get started. "Have you uhh… made any…"

"No."

"Oh. Ok."

"There's not really a decision to make unless he agrees to run."

"Just because he might not run doesn't mean you have…"

"Josh," she says, cutting him off. "Don't."

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his shoes. "Ok."

Silence carries them for the next minute until she finally tells him she has to go.

"Yeah," he breathes out. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yes. Go to the store and buy some groceries. Nothing will be open tomorrow."

He smiles sadly at her attempt to take care of him. He knows she resents doing it now, and wonders if she knows how second nature it is to her. He tells her goodbye and hangs up, then pockets his phone and walks back to the table where Toby's eating the final bite of an egg roll that's now been on the plate for an hour.

"She having a good time?" Toby asks when he's sitting down.

"Yeah." Toby looks up at him as if he's waiting for more and, "She quit," slips out.

Toby's eyes show mild surprise. "Just now?"

Josh shakes his head. "Monday. She gave me two weeks."

It's quiet for a few seconds while Toby balls up his napkin and puts it on the orange plastic tray holding his Styrofoam plate. "That would've happened a long time ago, you know. If it weren't for your…" he pauses as if he's looking for just the right term. "…friendship."

Josh nods; he does know that. "Yeah."

"She have something lined up?"

"Will offered her a job in media targeting on Russell's campaign." He pauses and looks at his empty plate. "She hasn't decided."

"You sound disgusted."

"Russell shouldn't be president."

"No," Toby agrees. "But if she proves herself, she could move the DCCC when he loses."

Josh looks up at him. "You aren't that easy on Will."

Toby shrugs. "Donna's looking for something more to do. Will was enticed by promises of power."

"They have the same end result," Josh says snidely, standing up with his tray.

"No they don't," Toby says, standing as well. "Donna won't turn into Russell. Will did."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sunday's even quieter at the office. No one comes in on Christmas Day ever, not even him. But his house has no food and the games don't start until noon, so when he fails at sleeping in, he throws on a pair of jeans and drives in. When he gets there, he can hear his own steps echoing in the hallway as he walks towards CJ's office. She's there, working hard to be the chief of staff she'll never live up to. He watches her from the doorway for a few seconds before she looks up and sees him. She never smiles anymore; he can't remember a single time since she took the position, and for just a second he's pissed off at the president for putting her someplace she shouldn't be and ruining that gorgeous smile and amazing sense of humor she used to have.

When she does see him, she looks almost relieved at the distraction. They talk about China and what's going to be the president's new schedule, but nothing's happening and neither of them has any business being there. He finally leaves the office at one and stops at a gas station for a bag of BBQ potato chips and a frozen pizza.

Donna calls a few minutes before six. He's watching Tennessee beat the crap out of Michigan State, but he quickly hits mute and answers. "Merry Christmas," he says, determined to keep things light. They can't afford the awkwardness that so easily settles on them recently.

"Thanks. Are you watching football?"

"I am," he says with a smile.

"Are you starving?"

"No," he says with mock indignantly, trying to lull her into banter. "I've got a full-course turkey dinner here."

"Really?" she asks skeptically.

He puts his feet up on the coffee table and leans back. "No, but I've got frozen Totinos."

She chuckles. "From the Shell on P Street?"

She knows him too well. "The Mapco in Dupont Circle I'll have you know."

The line goes quiet and he waits for her to say something, wondering what it is he's done this time. When she doesn't speak, he continues, unwilling to let the pauses linger. "They had two kinds; combination and pepperoni/sausage. I got combination, but it's just pepperoni and sausage, so I don't know what the difference is."

She pauses again, but finally speaks in a near-whisper. "I'm sorry I left you alone for Christmas."

"No," he says shaking his head. It sucks, but he doesn't want her to feel guilty. They do that to each other too much. "It's good that you're getting to see your family."

There's another pause before she answers unconvincingly. "Yeah."

She sounded the same way when he asked about her trip last night. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing," he says. "What is it? Did something happen?"

"No. It's fine."

"It's not fine," he says, pushing. He knows he probably shouldn't; this has been the easiest conversation they've had since Friday morning, but something's wrong.

"It's just…" she takes a deep breath. "My family hasn't seen me since…" she stops and takes a long, deep breath. "They have questions."

"They have questions," he repeats, putting his feet back on the floor and sitting up.

"Yeah. What it was like, what I remember, how therapy was… questions."

Idiots. He rakes his free hand through his hair. "Did you tell them to mind their own fucking business?"

"They're my family," she says firmly. "So no I didn't."

"Donna, you don't have to…" he stands and paces around the room. "That's not something you should have to talk about. I can't believe they'd expect you to…"

"It's fine, Josh."

"It's not fine!" he says louder than he means to. "You go there to relax and visit your parents and your family spends the weekend making you relive that?"

"That's not what they're trying to…"

"I don't care what they're trying to do!" he shouts.

"Josh. It's fine. I don't relive it the way…" she stops suddenly, but he knows what she was going to say. She doesn't relive Gaza the way he used to relive Roslyn. He knows that, he's thankful for it. But that doesn't mean it's ok.

He leans back against the wall. "It's not fine; it's upsetting you."

"Not as much as it's upsetting you."

There's a reason for that and he wonders if she knows it. "Can't you just tell them you don't want to talk about it?" he asks quieter.

"It's not that easy."

"You could come home."

"I am, tomorrow."

"Come home tonight. Tell them I'm making you work tomorrow."

He hears a faint, non-existent laugh. "I'll be fine. Can we just drop it, please?"

He doesn't want to. What he wants to do is ask to speak to her parents and tell them to leave her the hell alone. Instead, he moves away from the wall and walks back towards the couch, looking for something to say to ease the sudden tension. "Did you get anything good for Christmas?" he asks as he sits back down.

"A sweater you're going to enjoy making fun of," she answers with a slightly more relaxed voice.

"Yeah?"

"Pink; feathery."

He lies down and puts his feet on the couch, throwing his free arm behind his head to use as a pillow. "Feathery?"

"Yep."

He chuckles. "Well, I'll be looking forward to that."

"I'm sure you will be," she says with a chuckle of her own.

He closes his eyes and talks quietly. "You're sure you're ok?"

"Yes," she says softly. "Thank you though."

He looks up at the ceiling. "I didn't do anything."

"Yes you did."