Election Day '98

Manchester, NH – 7:30 pm

Donna heard her cell phone ring as she stepped out of the shower. Wrapping herself in towel, she stepped quickly into her bedroom, making sure the coast was clear of roving advance guys. The campaign group house had seemed like a great idea when it was Donna, Margaret and a bunch of finance assistants. But as spring turned to fall and the advance team moved in and out of town ahead of the governor and took to sleeping on the living room floor, the house became more frat than refuge. Another strike against going back to college, Donna thought. Self-consumed, immature college guys.

Donna shut her bedroom door and answered her phone just before it went to voice mail.

"Where are you?" Josh asked.

"Changing for tonight. For the party."

"OK," Josh replied, running a hand through his hair and wondering for the first time if he even had a clean shirt for tonight. "You realize we have to work tonight, right? The party's for the donors and the TV cameras. We're still running a political operation. We need phones and computers and functional internet to stay on top of the returns as they come in. There's none of that at the Hilton ballroom."

"Press filing center?" Donna asked.

"You get another job while I was gone?" Josh joked. "The filing room is for the press."

Donna ran a hand down the front of the dress she had picked out for tonight – simple, black, elegant. She could talk herself out of the notion that she had chosen it because Josh might like the way she looked in it on their last night together.

"No party at all?" Donna whined, unable to completely mask her disappointment.

"OK. Some party," Josh replied. "An hour or so while the non-battleground states are called. Maybe the dance you still owe me from Illinois. Then back to the office."

Donna smiled. "OK."

"So come pick me up already," Josh said.

"Pick you up?"

"You do still have my car, right?"

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Donna shimmied into her dress and threw a compact and lipstick into her purse. The re-enrollment papers from the University of Wisconsin stared at her from the top of the bureau. She folded them into a thick wedge but they still wouldn't fit into her evening bag. "Glove box," she thought, and grabbed the keys to Josh's car.

The bedroom clock read 7:50. Still four hours to decide whether or not she'd be sitting in a classroom in Madison come January.

A half hour later, Donna sipped a glass of white wine in the Hilton ballroom. Red, white and blue bunting draped the stage. Balloons held fast in a net suspended from the ballroom ceiling – to be released later in the evening if the news were good – or stay trapped in suspended animation if Governor Bartlet was not moving to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Sam noticed Donna examining the ceiling and sidled up to her. "Potential energy," Sam said.

"Hmm?"

"Isn't that the scientific term?" Sam asked. "Potential energy. Kinetic energy is when a body is in motion – physics-wise, and potential energy is when it's stored up, waiting."

"Sure," Donna replied. "That rings a very far-away bell."

"Most people probably prefer kinetic energy," Sam continued, "but there's something more poetic about potential energy."

Donna smiled.

"But what do I know," Sam said. "I've been up for 48 hours straight and written four speeches, one of which will be given tonight from that podium."

"And the others?" Donna replied.

"Tomorrow's kindling," Sam said.

Across the ballroom, Toby gestured for Sam to join him.

"Duty calls," Sam said, giving Donna a quick kiss on the cheek. "You look gorgeous tonight, by the way."

Moments later, Donna caught Josh's eye in another corner of the ballroom.

"Save me," Josh mouthed silently, trapped in conversation by a balding guy in beige jacket. Donna walked over to him, moved in close and whispered in his ear.

"You'll have to excuse me Ken," Josh said, offering the man his hand. "The Governor needs me in the other room." Josh placed his hand at the small of Donna's back and guided her into the hallway.

"Nick of time," he whispered. "Guy's a two-time state rep from North Conway and wants to talk about his presidential run in 2014."

"Will you still be doing politics in 2014?" Donna asked with a grin.

"I don't know if I'll be doing politics tomorrow," Josh replied. "We lose and I'm headed for the witness protection program to avoid retribution from Hoynes for ruining his career."

Josh stopped short of the press filing center and steered Donna to quiet alcove off the main hallway.

"You haven't asked me what I brought you from Florida," Josh said.

"Josh, you didn't have to bring me a present," Donna started.

"You always ask if I've brought you something."

"Yeah, but then you brought fresh salmon from Seattle and forgot in your garment bag for two weeks. I thought I'd quit while I was ahead."

"That was pretty bad," Josh agreed. "This is better." He smiled like a small boy and pulled a square box from his front pants pocket.

Hands unsteady, Donna gingerly took the box and held it longer than necessary, holding Josh's gaze and looking for some clue to the contents.

"Open it," was his only reply.

Donna lifted the cardboard lid and peered inside. Her face fell.

"It's a key chain," she said.

"Yep," he replied.

"Without a key," Donna continued.

"What's attached to the key chain?" Josh asked.

"Well, I'm not sure what degree of specificity you're looking for Joshua, but I'd say it's a toy replica of a World War I flying ace."

"I'm looking for something a little less specific," Josh replied, still grinning.

"A bi-plane," Donna said with a laugh, getting into the spirit of this demented game of charades.

"Another step back, Donnatella," he said.

"A plane?" she asked.

"A plane," he said.

"Are you taking me to Hawaii?"

"I don't know where you've gotten the idea that that is something bosses routinely do for their assistants."

"I'm a very good assistant," Donna replied, not missing a beat.

Josh stepped closer, removed the key chain from the box, and dangled it in the space between them. "I couldn't buy you a plane ticket to D.C., 'cause, well, we still don't know if we're going to win or lose, or if we're going into a recount in Ohio, or a voting rights lawsuit in Florida, or…"

"Josh," she said softly.

"I didn't have dates for plane ticket. I don't know when we're leaving. But whatever happens tonight Donna, however the Bartlet campaigns ends – the, you know, thrill of victory or the agony of defeat…"

"I get it Josh."

"Whatever happens, this is a promise. I want you with me for the next thing."

Donna broke into a full smile and embraced him. Josh pulled her tight and held her as long as he dared. When he felt the eyes of a passing reporter on them both, he broke contact and held back.

"If it's what you want Donna. If you want to go back to Madison and finish your degree I won't stand in your way. I'll have a job for you in two years."

"A job. You're very sweet sometimes," she said, fighting back a tear.

"Don't let that get around, OK?" he said, and pulled her back for another quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "I have to find C.J. before the next round of polls close. Back to the office in an hour."

"OK," Donna said, as she watched him turn the corner. She slipped the key chain into her evening bag and snapped it shut. You're an idiot, Donna thought to herself. You can't let yourself fall in love with your boss.