Donna’s POV:
“The speaker saw how many Democrats came back for the vote, and pulled it from
the floor.” Santos tells us. It takes me a moment to process this information since I’m
surrounded at the moment by Josh and Cliff. Not that that is awkward or anything.
“Let’s go.” The Vice-President tells Will and me.
“What about the vote?” I ask him.
“He’s not going to call it again as long as we’re in town and the minute we leave, he
will. There’s no getting around it and I’m not going to waste valuable time before
Super Tuesday hanging out at the Capitol for nothing.”
“You’re going to stay and work out of the Vice-President’s office?” Will asks again. I
already agreed, but he’s asking again.
“Yes, I’ll take care of it.” I assure him as he follows the Vice-President out.
“Damn it.” Cliff swears quietly. “We need this one. It’s important.”
“Congressman, we should go too.” Josh speaks for the first time since joining our
conversation.
“No, wait. Isn’t there any way you could wait just a few hours. See what happens?”
Cliff is practically begging.
“We have people waiting who have paid big bucks to shake the Congressman’s
hand.” Josh replies.
“There’s no reason I can’t shake those hands and come back later.” Santos argues.
“Of course there is. Haffley will never call the vote once he sees the whites of your
eyes.” Josh reminds him.
“He’s right.” Cliff admits. “We need a way to do this on the sly or it will never work.”
“You can use the Vice-President’s office.” I offer. “Everyone knows he’s gone, so no
one will be stopping by.”
“We’d need someone here that can wander the halls without sending up any alarms.”
Josh notes.
“I think I know who to tap for that job.” Cliff tells us. “You’ll come back after the
thing?” I laugh. He’s only been working a few weeks in the Bartlet White House and
Cliff’s already talking like one of us. Josh gives me a strange look.
“I fly myself, so I can keep it under the radar, so to speak. Who’s going to spread the
word of the plan?” Santos asks.
“I can do it.” I volunteer. I’ll make the calls and bring some supplies to the Vice-
President’s office.” The Congressman and Cliff give me encouraging smiles. Josh
just nods, looking at the floor.
“Thanks, Donna.” Cliff says sincerely.
Hours later, I am surrounded by tired, wrinkled Congressmen and women who are
going above and beyond the call of duty to try and get this bill passed. It’s pretty
exhilarating, I have to admit.
When Congressman Santos approaches me I feel a little self-conscious. He’s been
calling me ‘Russell’s chicken fighter’ all night and although I know he means it as a
joke, it just highlights the fact that I’m on a separate team from him and Josh.
“Can you pour me a cup, too, or do you refuse to get coffee for others entirely?” he
asks me and I turn red from the implication that Josh has discussed this subject with
him.
“No, that little rule is specifically for Josh.” I respond while pouring another cup of
coffee. “Can I ask you a question, sir?”
“If you call me Matt.”
“That wouldn’t be appropriate, sir.”
“Josh has you trained well. What’s your question?”
“Why did you spend nearly 2 hours debating the merits of this bill with the
Congressman from Arkansas? We have the votes without him. Why bother trying to
convince him?”
“I don’t think it’s simply a matter of having the votes. It’s important to hear other
points of view and engage in open dialogue with people.” He breaks into a grin. “Plus
I love to debate.”
“I can tell, sir.”
“Since, we have the time, and Josh tells me you love to debate as well, why don’t we
debate the merits of you jumping the Russell ship and coming aboard the Santos
campaign?”
“It’s tempting sir, believe me, but I gave my word to the Vice-President and I can’t go
back on that.”
“Okay.” He answers simply and takes a sip of coffee.
“That’s it? That’s the great debate?” I ask incredulously.
“If you’ve given your word, it is. Loyalty is an important trait, and Josh says you have
it in spades, so if you don’t break your word and you’ve given that word to Russell,
there isn’t any point in the debate.” He takes another sip. “I need more sugar in this
or I’ll never make it until the vote.”
“Josh said that?” I respond to the part of the statement that interests me most.
“Among other things.” Congressman Santos mentions slyly and waits for me to pump
him for more information. He doesn’t have to wait long.
“Like what other things?”
“Why Donna, is there something you’d like to know about Josh? Do you want me to
pass him a note during gym class, chicken fighter?”
“Never mind.” I move to walk away, but he stops me by stepping in front of me.
“Sorry; too far. You and my campaign manager are awfully sensitive on this topic.”
He notes. “Josh had a similar reaction when Ronna was teasing him about you. What’
s going on with you two anyway?”
“Nothing, Congressman, I assure you.”
“Do you think I’m worried about my campaign manager and Russell’s media strategist
swapping strategy secrets during pillow talk?”
“Sir!” I object hotly. “We are not…there is NO pillow talk.”
“Oh, I know that’s true. No one can be as uncomfortable and uptight as you and Josh
are about each other and be…exchanging pillow talk.” By now my face must be beet
red.
“Now I’ve embarrassed you.” He notes. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted you to hear
directly from me that I wouldn’t have a problem with it. Are we clear?”
“Not that it matters, but yes.” I answer quietly.
“It does matter, Donna. Everyone’s opinion matters. That’s why I spent a couple
hours debating stem cell research."
***************************************************************************
Josh’s POV:
“He looks pretty good for a guy who hasn’t had any sleep in the last 24 hours, don’t
you think?” I ask her as we watch Santos talk about the victory on the stem cell vote
on television.
“He napped for a couple hours around 5.” Donna tells me.
“So ‘Operation Sleepover’ was a lot of fun? Did you tell ghost stories and do each
others hair?” I tease her.
“These were serious members of the Democratic Congressional caucus; we told
Josh Lyman stories and did each others hair.”
“I’ll bet.” He laughs.
“Laugh now, but Congressman Santos will be asking about which fireplaces it’s safe
to use in the White House and which fireplaces are welded shut.”
“Oh, My. God. Did you have to go there?”
“I really did. We formed quite a bond, Matt and I.” she tells me with a smile on her
face.
“CONGRESSMAN Santos, and I shudder at the thought of you two bonding.” I act all
exasperated, but I’m truly delighted they hit it off so well.
“He’s a good man, Josh. You picked a good leader.” She offers quietly.
“Thanks.” I answer not sure what to say next.
“Just so you have a heads up…He mentioned something to me about our
relationship…our friendship, I mean. He seems to think there’s something going on
between us, even though I’ve assured him there isn’t.”
“That may be my fault.” I admit.
“Why?”
“I may have complained a little about you spending the night in the Vice-President’s
office with Cliff Calley on the flight out of D.C.”
“You complained about that?” she asks.
“A little bit.”
“A little bit?”
“Maybe slightly more than a little bit.” I fess up. “It might have been through the whole
flight.”
“Really…I barely saw Cliff, he didn’t stay with us in the Vice-President’s office.”
“He didn’t?”
“No, he had an early squash game with Speaker Haffley.”
“Well, that’s different then, I guess.”
“Not really.” She tells me.
“What do you mean?”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. I’m not interested in spending time with Cliff. I never really
was. He was just the best of my options at the time.” Did she just say what I thought
she said?
“Okay. Did, ummm, the Congressman talk to you about coming to work for him?”
“He did. Did you think I would?”
“Hell no, I bet him $50 you wouldn’t; at least not until we win the nomination.” I smile.
“Your ego never ceases to amaze me.” she says drolly.
“Just one of the things you love about me.” I shoot back.
“I guess so…Good luck on Super Tuesday.” She replies and leaves me standing
there like a gaping fish.
******************************************************************************
Donna’s POV:
This is the most exhausted I have ever been in my life and what do I have to show for
it? Nothing. We’ve lost the bid for nomination and as of midnight, I am officially
unemployed. I don’t go to bed though. I stay seated in our office watching the
proceedings on television with Will hoping for a glance of Josh. How sick is that? I
just sit here waiting to see his face on television like the lovesick schoolgirl Amy
accused me of being.
It’s not like I haven’t seen him lately. Trapped as we are within the confines of the
convention center, we’ve seen each other several times a day. They just haven’t
been substantive sightings. We wave, we smile, we even shoot off the frequent email
or text message with a humorous anecdote or satirical comment about one another’s
candidate. It’s all very nice and civilized, but it’s not what I want. Now that he’s
working for the Democratic nominee, and I’m no longer working on a campaign at all,
the odds of seeing him just took a turn for impossible.
I’m so intent on watching for him on television, that I completely miss his entrance
into our office until I hear Will’s quiet “Josh” from behind me.
He’s holding three beers and sets them on Will’s desk while he opens them. Then he
silently hands one to each of us and takes a chair next to me. We watch together as
President Bartlet introduces the Santos/McGarry ticket to the nation. I know they’re
going to have a tough fight against Vinick, but that doesn’t take away the pride I feel
in Josh’s accomplishment. Once again, he has done the politically impossible and
gotten a little know candidate the Democratic nomination for President.
“I’m going to bed.” Josh suddenly announces. “Will, get some sleep and come talk to
me about a speechwriting job in the morning.”
I look to see how Will reacts to that directive and see that he is still in shock from this
whole experience.
“Thanks for the beer.” I remember to tell him. Surely, he isn’t just going to walk out of
here without saying a word directly to me is he?
“Sure. Goodnight.” He replies and walks out of the office leaving two amazed and
confused staffers in his wake. Hardly a record for him, I guess. I take another swig of
beer and feel hurt and anger rise up inside of me. Will gets a job offer and I get a
beer? Is that supposed to be some sort of slap at me because I had the audacity to
‘leave him’? Well, whatever it is, it’s not working for me. I am done with the cautious
route. I’m alone and unemployed, what exactly would be the downside about calling
him on his behavior at this point?
I get up, and leaving the rest of the beer behind, walk out in search of Josh Lyman.
The hotel we’re all staying at is connected to the convention center so it doesn’t me
long to make my way over to the lobby. I’m about to storm the front desk to get his
room number when I spot Ronna tipsily returning to the hotel with a few other staffers.
“Ronna, what room is Josh in?”
“Donna, hi!” she is so drunk right now. I know this because she gives me a hug and
reeks of beer. “You should be nice to Josh, Donna. He misses you SO much.” She
informs me.
“I am nice to-“ I start to defend myself and then I remind myself this woman is drunk.
“Ronna, I need his room number. I need to talk to Josh.”
“Oh, good. That’s good. You should talk to Josh.” She repeats.
“Yes, but to do that I need his room number. Do you have his room number, Ronna?”
“Oh, sure! It’s 802…or is it 208?” she pauses as she tries to concentrate.
“Ronna, it’s important.” I reiterate.
“802.” She answers quickly. “I’m pretty sure it’s 802.”
“Ronna it’s 1:30 in the morning. I need you to be more than ‘pretty sure’.”
“I’m 90% sure.” She tells me solemnly and I decide to take a chance.
“Thanks Ronna.” I tell her before jumping on the next elevator and taking it up to the
8th floor.
******************************************************************
Josh’s POV:
I am so tired I could cry. I may have actually slept walked for the past hour. I’m going
to sleep forever, and deal with the election when I wake up. Except now there’s some
kind of pounding in my head…I bury my head underneath the pillow but the
pounding doesn’t stop. Doesn’t matter, I can sleep through it.
“Joshua! I hope you’re in there or I’m going to have to walk down 6 flights of stairs.
Josh?” What the hell is Donna doing here? Didn’t I just leave her with Will at the
convention center? I wobble to the door and open it to find a very pissed Donnatella
Moss on the other side.
“A beer, Josh? You brought me a beer?” I must be tired because I’m thinking that
was a nice thing to do. “What the hell is that supposed to mean; a beer?”
“It, uh, means, we’re done with the crazy convention from hell, so have an alcoholic
beverage.” I manage and feel myself swaying on my feet.
“I don’t want an alcoholic beverage.”
“What do you want then, so I can give it to you and go back to sleep.”
“Sleep? You offer Will a speechwriting job, and you offer me a beer and then go to
sleep?”
“You know I haven’t slept in like 32 hours, right?” I try to reason with her, but it’s
hardly a fair fight at the moment.
“You offered Will a speechwriting job!” she repeats.
“Yeah?”
“What about me?” she asks.
“You’re not a speechwriter Donna. Your note cards are great for briefings but-“ I
collapse onto the bed as she interrupts me.
“I don’t want a speechwriting job, Josh.” She protests.
“Then why did you just ask for one?” I am thoroughly confused and she is thoroughly
beautiful.
“I didn’t. I just want to know why you offered Will a job and not me.” With her words
finally comes comprehension. “Is this some sort of Joshua Lyman form of punishment
for past crimes?”
“Punishment? Donna, I have trouble keeping up with your train of thought on my best
days and today is not a best day. So, let’s do this.” I sit up enough to take her hand
and pull her to the bed. “Come sleep with me.” Her eyes go wide with shock and
something else too, but mostly shock. “Sleep, Donna. Rest. We’re both exhausted
and the only thing I’d like more than sleep right now is to hold you while I sleep.
Come sleep with me.” I repeat and wait for her response.
She looks me in the eyes as she kicks off her shoes and slides into bed next to me.
She tucks her head under my chin and I put my arms around her. I don’t know how
long it takes her, but I’m fast asleep in seconds.
*************************************************************
Donna’s POV:
I begin my journey back to consciousness reluctantly, because the dream I’m having
is so amazing. I’m with Josh and we’re alone in his apartment. We’re on his couch
and we’re rapidly losing clothing. I can feel his arms moving up and down my back
and playing with my hair and I don’t want to leave this place. Somewhere in my brain,
though, sunlight registers and I lose that heavy feeling that comes with deep sleep.
That’s when panic sets in, because I can still feel arms running up and down my back
and fingers playing with my hair. I bolt straight up into a sitting position and hear a
chuckle.
“Do you always wake up like that, Donnatella?” Josh asks me with a smile in his voice.
Memories of the last 24 hours come flooding back to me. I push the wonderful dream
out of my head and remember that I’m pissed at Josh Lyman.
“It was just a disturbing dream.” I mutter and immediately see that it was the wrong
choice of words. To Josh, disturbing dreams are part of the PTSD phenomenon and
very, very bad. I didn’t mean to make him think that was the kind of dream I had and I
go about reassuring him, although I’m still pissed. “It wasn’t like that. It just sort of
startled me, that’s all.”
“You hungry?” he asks me.
“I should go.” I give him a non-answer to his question.
“Are you in some sort of hurry? I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I wanted to know why you offered Will a job.”
“Because he’s a good speechwriter.” Josh answers simply and I want to wipe the
dimples off his face. He must read my expression correctly because he immediately
adds. “I’m not talking to you about a job, Donna. It’s not going to happen.”
I feel my heart fall to my knees. He’s still mad at me; for leaving him at the White
House, for bad mouthing his candidate, for working for Bingo Bob. He’s so mad and
disappointed he won’t even talk about me working for Santos. I nod and drop my
gaze to the floor, to find my shoes and keep him from seeing the tears gathering in
my eyes.
“You should talk to-“ he starts but I whip around to face him and stop his advice from
being delivered.
“Don’t. You don’t get to offer me career advice anymore, Obiwan. I can find a job on
my own. You may not want me, but I imagine there are plenty of down ticket races
that would love to have someone with my experience on board.” I grab my shoes and
move toward the door without putting them on.
“I’m sure that’s true, but who said I don’t want you?” Josh answered as he got out of
bed and blocked my path to the door. “I want you very, very much.” He tells me in
this low, gravelly voice right before he kisses me.
“Josh?” I only say his name, but I know he hears all the questions running through
my head.
“We don’t work for the President anymore, Donna, and we don’t work for rival
campaigns. You needed a chance to prove yourself away from me, but now you’ve
done it and I don’t want to wait any longer.” He kisses me again and I literally get
weak. “I’m not talking to you about a job. We’re not going to have that kind of a
relationship anymore…at least I hope not.” His hands move around my shoulders
and down my back pulling me closer to him.
“I …Josh, I…” I can’t even complete a sentence. “Wait. Just wait a minute.”
He steps back immediately and we’re both panting for breath. “God, Donna, I’m
sorry. I should have…” he rubs his hands over his face and through his hair, then
looks back at me. “I didn’t mean to move so far so fast…no, that’s a lie. I meant it, but
I understand if you want to go slower. I just feel like I’ve been waiting forever and I
didn’t wait to wait any longer.”
“I know.” I manage to choke out before the first couple tears fall. “I just thought, last
night when you spoke to Will about a job…”
“I wanted you to make the choice, Donna; whether you want to work for Santos, or on
another campaign, or go back to school. I shouldn’t have said anything to Will in
front of you. Honestly, I was just too tired to think about how it must have sounded to
you at the time. The Congressman told me he was going to approach you again
about working for him, so it didn’t even occur to me that you would think you were
being left behind.”
“You’re okay with me working for Santos?”
“If that’s what you want, yes, but not for me or because of me. I need to know that
what we have between us isn’t because of politics.”
“What is it exactly that we have between us, Josh?”
“I’m hoping we can have the personal relationship that we’ve denied existed for the
better part of the last decade.” He gives me a smirk.
“I thought you were still mad at me for leaving you to go work for Russell.”
“I wasn’t mad.” He protests and I give him a disbelieving look. “Well, maybe a little
mad, but even that was born more out of hurt than anything else. I missed you,
Donna, not burnt burgers, or my organized schedule, or note cards with illegible
handwriting…you.”
“I missed you too.” I confess. “I wanted you to see me as a capable, competent
woman; an equal.”
“I do. I did then too. I just didn’t show it very well.”
“You think?”
“You know I’m not good at this, Donna. This isn’t my first misstep with you and it won’t
be my last. Do you think you could live with that?”
“I know I’d like to try.” I tell him honestly and I see the dimples I love so much.
“I love you, Donna.” He informs me. “I always have.”
“I love you too.” I can still feel an echo of the sadness I felt earlier, but it’s fading fast
in light of our confessions to each other. He sits in the overstuffed chair and pulls me
into his lap. He kisses his way down my throat and I tilt my head back further to give
him better access.
“So…the Congressman is going to be calling me about a job?” I ask subtly.
“Probably going to…offer you mine…” he says in between kisses. “He likes
you…better than me…”
“Most people do.” I tease.
“Hey!” he protests and stops the kissing. That simply won’t do.
“It’s only because they don’t know you like I do.” I try to appease him as my hands
move under his t-shirt.
“Nobody knows me like you do.” He whispers as he pulls my shirt up over my head.
“Uh, Donna, if you’d like to slow things down, now would be the time to say
something.”
Instead of answering him directly, I choose to suck his earlobe into my mouth at
which point he lifts me up and carries me to the bed.
“You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this, dreamt about this.” He admits as
he works his way down my body.
“Oh, I think I might.” There’ll be time to talk about the past, about misdirection and
misunderstandings, but for now I’m perfectly content to enjoy the present.
****************************************************************************
Epilogue:
Santos’ POV:
“It’s a mistake…” he shouts at the top of his lungs.
“It is NOT!” she shouts back. “Stop thinking like a man for a minute and-“
“Stop thinking like a man? I’m thinking like a campaign manager.”
“Uh-huh, then why are we still 9 points down, Joshua?” Donna fires back and I wince
in sympathy.
“We’ll get a bump after the debate, Donna.”
“Oh, yeah, the debate. How are those debate negotiations going, anyway?” Another
ouch. Despite his best efforts, Josh has been unable to work out debate details with
Bruno and it’s not a subject anyone besides Donna feels courageous enough to
mention out loud to him.
“I can get it done.” He counters.
“I know you can.” She replies and her voice has dropped in volume and intensity.
She moves to stand in front of him. “But you can’t do everything by yourself
anymore, Joshua. You need to let go of some things; delegate.” I never get tired of
watching this dynamic. They really make a great team.
“What would you suggest I delegate? This is all important stuff, Donna.”
“You’ve got a lot of good people to handle it, too. Give Lou debate negotiations.”
“Lou?”
“Bruno won’t know what to do with her. Hand debate prep over to Otto and Will.”
“The debate prep is huge!”
“That’s why it’ll take two of them, you can supervise.” She takes his hand. “You’re
exhausted and I’m worried about your stress. Will you please do this for me?”
He nods reluctantly and shoots a glance over at me to see if I’m paying attention; I
smile back at him to let him know, that I know how it is when you’re negotiating with
the woman you love.
”I’ll tell Lou she needs to meet with Bruno at 1, and that she should start airing the 30
second spot on women’s health issues.” Donna tells him as she walks to the door.
“Yeah, okay.” Then it hits him. He just okay’d the spot he was arguing with her about
earlier. “Wait a second. I did not say to run the spot on women’s health issues..” he
starts to follow her out the door.
“Stop thinking like a man, Joshua.” She calls over her shoulder. And just like that, the
fragile peace is broken.
I know, because I’ve been watching them up close now for awhile, that the ‘fighting’
keeps them both on their toes and that underneath all of it is a deep layer of
affection and respect. I also know that if I make it to the White House, it will be in
great part, due to those two individuals for a myriad of reasons.
Late one night in Cleveland, when Donna and Helen were on a swing through
Orlando, Josh told me the story of how he came to the decision to ask me to run for
this office. Over a beer, he described how lost he felt in the White house once
Donna had left, but that he couldn’t stomach the thought of electing Russell or
Hoynes and instead got on a plane to Houston.
We’ve got six weeks left until the election, and I’m sure I will get to witness many more
Josh/Donna moments between now and then. It’s good entertainment when you’re
constantly on the road.
“Congressman, will you please explain to my Deputy that we are not going to pander
to any special interest group in the last six weeks of the campaign?” Josh comes
back in and shouts, more to Donna than to me, I think.
“Your Deputy is also your fiancé, Josh, and as an old married man, I can assure you
that no 30 second spot is worth the couch you’re going to be sleeping on.”
“Couch?” he stops and thinks about this. I can seriously see the wheels turning.
“Donna,” he calls to her and she appears in the doorway. “I’ve decided that we
should air the 30 second spot on women’s health issues.”
“Great. I’ll tell Lou.” And the smile she gives him promises other rewards for seeing
things her way. He’s learning. After another 6 weeks on the road together, they
should have it down to a science.
The End.