Chapter 11
He brings in a box Thursday morning so he can start packing his office. He's finishing out the week, but that's it; New Year's Day is Monday and he's leaving for Houston on Tuesday where the congressman will announce. From there, they're heading to New Hampshire. The box makes it all seem more real, but not as real as it will feel when security examines its contents before letting him leave with it.
Donna isn't at her desk when he walks by. In his office there's a post-it note on his computer screen telling him she has a meeting and will be in around ten. It's the third one of these 'meetings' this week; the fourth if he counts Monday when Will called and summoned her away from her current job and to her future job as if purposely rubbing salt in Josh's wound. He wonders if she actually thinks he doesn't know who she's meeting with or if this is her own way of reminding him that it's none of his business.
He puts the box down on his desk and looks around his office. It's full and cluttered, but most of the things in it aren't his. With a sigh, he starts pulling things off the wall. A picture of him with his grandfather, his degrees, a picture of his parents… They're all dusty and he thinks if it were Donna packing up for him, she'd wipe them down first. He doesn't though; he just puts them carefully into the box. He walks over to the bookshelf next; there's a picture there of him with Sam, Toby and CJ and it strikes him how young he used to be.
He goes through the bookshelf pulling down the few books there that belong to him. Once they're in the box, it's pretty full. He'll have to bring another in tomorrow to finish up.
He sits down and works for a few hours on the budget. He wants it to be in good shape when he hands it over to CJ; Hafley will walk all over her if he sees the opportunity. As it stands now, they're getting everything they want for education, healthcare, and social security. They're giving a little on welfare, but it's not as much as the republicans are giving most other places.
She gets to the office at 10:30. He hears her out at her desk talking to people. But it's after eleven when she walks into his office for the first time. "Ronna Morgan is on…" she stops suddenly and he looks up from his notes. Her eyes are glued to the box on the corner of his desk.
"Who's Ronna Morgan?"
"She's from…" she stops talking and drags her eyes away from the box and up to him. "She's from Congressman Santos' office. He's..." she questions.
He nods. "Yeah."
She looks away again towards the box. She's trying to figure something out and he doesn't think it's going to take her long to do it.
He picks up the phone and talks to Ronna. They've booked the Harris County Courthouse steps for Thursday morning. She's still working on press, but she wanted him to know that they're set for the announcement. He thanks her and she says she's looking forward to meeting him in Houston, then they hang up and he looks back at Donna. She's figured it out.
"You didn't find out today."
He shakes his head. "He came here Tuesday."
"Where was I?"
"In one of your meetings," he says, stressing the word as if it's a joke.
"Why didn't you tell me when I got back?"
He glares at her. "You're working for Russell, Donna. That makes the congressman's campaign something we can't discuss."
Her eyes widen in shock. "I…"
"Don't," he says, looking back down at the report on his desk. "This was your decision and you made it regardless of what it was doing to us. Don't complain about the consequences now." He regrets saying it the second the words leave his mouth but he's too angry and humiliated and hurt to take it back, so he pretends he's reading. She stays there for almost a full minute; he can feel her stare piercing him like a sword, but he doesn't look up. When she finally leaves, he lets his head fall to his desk and wonders if she's hurting as badly as he is.
He works until almost midnight that night, on both administration and campaign things, and then heads to Mac's to get completely and totally drunk. Instead, he finds himself nursing the same beer for almost an hour.
All day long he's been pushing the idea of a future without her out of his mind, choosing instead to focus on the daunting task in front of him. The congressman has practically no money saved, and why would he? He hadn't planned on campaigning. But that means that it's only going to be Josh, the congressman, and two of the congressman's staff. Staff Josh knows nothing about, which means he's going to have to do this alone.
He tries to psych himself up for the journey; it's one he's always loved and he should be excited to get started. But instead, he pictures running into her at debates and rallies and hotels. He pictures them making snide comments to each other, or worse yet, not having anything to say at all. He pictures awkward silences and working against each other and a lack of trust between them that has never been there before. He pictures lying awake at night and wishing he was holding her like he had that one time, that one amazing time that he'll never have again. It's a thought he can't bear and he knows he's going to have to do something.
Friday is much the same. He brings a box into the office and packs up the last of his personal items. His baseball mitt, a few shirts and ties, his tuxedo. He wanders out to the bullpen where Donna's doing the same and watches as she uses a tissue to wipe off a picture of the two of them from one of the inaugural balls. She stares at it for a minute with the smallest smile on her face and then wraps it in newspaper and places it carefully into the box. He turns and goes back into his office, collapsing into his chair. He has no idea what they're doing.
The next time he comes out of his office, she's explaining something to Janice. He assumes she called human resources and cancelled the new assistant since no one would be there to assist. He watches her move for a minute; watches the way she talks with her hands and chews on her thumb when she's thinking. She glances up and catches his eye, but he doesn't look away so they just look at each other until Janice says something and pulls Donna's attention back. Then he turns slowly and heads down the hallway towards CJ's office.
He meets with CJ and Toby for almost an hour, briefing them on the budget and the few other things he's been working on. Toby's been giving him the cold shoulder since finding out he was leaving and CJ's too overwhelmed to care about anything else right now; between the two of them and Donna, he feels like an outsider. He never pictured leaving like this.
When he gets back to the bullpen an hour after he left, Margaret, Ginger and Carol are standing at Donna's desk talking to her. As he walks past, he hears her say she's not sure she can, then Carol's talking to him.
"We're taking Donna to lunch," she says without question.
He looks at Donna, who looks almost hopeful. She's been leaving at will this whole week and he's said absolutely nothing about it so he doesn't understand why she thinks he'd say no to this. "Ok," he says, which is probably the nicest thing he's said to her since Monday. He's not proud of that.
But Donna's look goes from hopeful to disappointed, which only confuses him more. Surely he didn't answer that question wrong. She mumbles her thanks and puts on her coat, then follows the others out while he watches her. She used to look back when she'd leave and flash him a smile, and he used to love to watch her and wait for it, but she hasn't done that in months and she doesn't do it this time.
He finally turns and walks back into his office. His box shoved full of clothes is on the corner of his nearly empty desk and he immediately stiffens. It's her last day. When she put in her two weeks, she told him he was taking her to lunch on her last day. Shit.
He rushes back out to the bullpen, but she's gone. "Shit," he says loudly enough to turn a few heads. He hits the glass partition with his palm and shoots a look to an intern staring at him, then turns and goes back into his office again.
He sits down and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. He feels her slipping away, feels them tumbling towards destruction, and he doesn't know how to stop it. But if he read her face right out there, she feels it too and wants to stop it just as badly as he does. And that at least gives him hope.
He sits there, thinking instead of working, until it's time for his meeting with Ed and Larry. The legislative department will be answering to them for the time being, which is the one thing he's not worried about in regards to the administration. They spend a few hours going over upcoming legislation, hopeful legislation and legislation that doesn't have a prayer but should be worked on anyway. When the meeting is over, they both shake his hand, tell him he'll be missed, and wish him good luck. He thanks them in a manly non-emotional way, but what he really wants to do is hug them for being the only ones who've seemed to care that he's leaving.
But before he knows it, it's after four and he's making his way to the oval office at the president's request. When he gets there, Leo's there as well. The president hands Josh a glass of brandy and pours one for himself while Leo opens a club soda, then they sit on the couches and Josh lets them give him advice that he doesn't really need. They can't support his candidate and he knows it, but they can do this, so he listens intently and soaks as much of it in as possible.
He's emotionally exhausted by the time he leaves the oval office and walks back towards his. When he walks into the bullpen, the light in Donna's area is off and there's nothing on her desk. He comes to a stop and stands there staring at it, the last of his strength draining quickly. There's a lump in his throat and a hollow spot inside his chest and he can't believe it's come to this.
"Did you need anything else before I go?"
His head snaps towards his office and she's standing in the doorway holding a box and looking at him with trepidation. He doesn't say anything at first; just breathes raggedly and watches her. Yes, he thinks. He does need something; her.
"You uh… you have everything?" he asks, nodding towards the box in her hands.
She nods. "Yeah. I was just…"
Giving them one more chance to not leave things like this, he finishes in his head. "Would…" he lets out a deep breath. "Seven o'clock be a good time to pick you up?"
Her eyes narrow with confusion. "What?"
"For dinner," he clarifies in what he hopes isn't a nervous voice. "I promised to take you to dinner on your last day."
Her eyes light up with unshed tears. "Really?" she whispers.
He takes three steps, closing the distance between them. "I was thinking Citronelle," he says quietly. Citronelle is a romantic restaurant, one of the most romantic in the city, and while he's not a fan of French food, he wants there to be no mistake in what he's saying. You'd never take your assistant to Citronelle and the shock on her face says she knows that. "Where I will spend the evening reminding myself that giving you a job eight years ago doesn't entitle me to choose your next one."
She smiles widely, but then quickly suppresses it and watches him before speaking quietly. "And where I'll apologize profusely for returning a gift that I absolutely loved and that was incredibly thoughtful."
He studies her for a moment and then barely nods. Reaching out, he puts a hand on the box she's holding, letting his fingers brush hers. "And where we'll figure this thing out so we don't ever have to have another week like this one?"
"Yeah," she whispers, her eyes full of hope he hasn't seen in ages. "Seven o'clock?"
He nods and leans in, kissing her forehead. He's never done that in the bullpen, but she doesn't work for him, so screw it. "Seven o'clock."