When Donna left Josh's office there was only one person in the
hallway, and it was the exact person she would have betted on.
"Hi," she said somewhat coldly. "Get sick of the Democrats?"
"Actually, Sam wouldn't let me hide in his office and I couldn't make
it around the corner fast enough," Ainsley admitted. She had seen
the marks of tears still on Donna's face, and out of sympathy she
ignored the other woman's attitude. "Um, I don't mean to butt in -"
"You don't?" Donna asked.
"Are you going to be okay?"
For a long moment Donna just looked at her. Anyone observing the
scene would almost have thought they were sisters - the uncanny
resemblance except for Donna's height, the identical defensive
postures . . .
Finally Donna broke. The girl might be a Republican, and gorgeous,
but maybe she hadn't given her much of a chance. "I'm fine," she
said, shaking her head. "Silly argument."
"It didn't sound like it," Ainsley commented. Too late she realized
her mistake. "I mean, from the way you looked when - oh, never mind."
"It's fine," Donna repeated. "It was a little thing."
"I saw the news," Ainsley blurted out as Donna turned to leave.
Donna turned back, slowly. "What?"
"I saw the news," Ainsley repeated. "The coverage - of the shooting
- I was watching."
"You and the rest of America," Donna commented.
"No, I mean, I heard when they were talking about Mr. - about Josh,
and I didn't know him then but I knew who he was and I heard all
about his injuries and everything -"
Donna leaned against the wall and stared the other woman down. "And?"
Ainsley shrugged. "I'm just saying. If he were my boss I would have
been worried too."
Donna nodded and turned to go again. "Well, he isn't," she tossed
over her shoulder.
"No, he's definitely your problem," Ainsley said. Donna turned yet
again and the two women looked each other in the eye. Something
passed between them, a quick moment of sending and receiving signals.
Donna raised an eyebrow. Ainsley gave her a half smile. Donna
nodded. Message received. Maybe Ainsley wasn't so bad after all.
For a Republican. She turned and actually left this time.
"Donna?"
Well, almost. She was halfway down the hall when Ainsley called her.
"Yes?" she asked testily.
"What is Josh doing in there?"
Donna actually smiled. "Waiting. So we didn't both leave at the
same time."
Ainsley smiled back. "Nice try."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When he first heard the knock on his door, Josh paid it no attention.
He actually didn't hear it at all, or if he did he thought it was
another crash of thunder coming a little closer than the others. But
eventually there was a momentary lull in the December storm outside
and he heard the impatient pounding on his outside door.
"I'm coming!" he yelled over the thunder, knowing full well the
person outside probably couldn't hear him. "As if you care whether I
answer you anyway," he muttered under his breath as he crossed the
apartment. "Infernal three-week late repair - Donna!"
He had not, naturally, been referring to any failure on Donna's part
to repair something, nor had he expected to find her outside his door
at eleven PM on a Sunday, but there she was. Just about to bang
impatiently on his door again.
"Hi," she said casually.
"You're at my apartment," he said lamely.
"Very astute of you, Joshua."
His brow furrowed. "And you're - wet."
"It's raining," she replied calmly, seemingly unperturbed by the fact
that water was literally running down her face and dripping from her
hair and clothes.
"Um, what are you doing here?"
"Isn't it obvious?" After a long silence she sighed. "Apparently
not. I was running in this neighborhood because I like to jog around
the Capitol and then I kind of wandered out of my usual way and then
it started pouring and I was going to head for the Metro stop but you
never know what can happen to those things in thunderstorms, and so .
. ."
"Those things?" Josh asked, smiling slightly.
"You know, electrical things."
"Electrical things? Like the how-many-years-old underground DC Metro
system?"
She gave him a look. "You never know, Joshua. Anyway, I was going
to run into a store or something to wait it out, but obviously they're
all closed, so . . ."
"Donna?" he interrupted. "This may be a silly question, but - could
you possibly get any wetter? I mean really, in however long it takes
you to run home from here, is there any way you could be wetter than
you are already?"
"Um," she said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I, uh - I'm really
afraid of thunderstorms."
"Really?" he asked.
"Yes, really. I wasn't going to stay out there in that - I mean,
things get struck by lightning and trees fall on people and I am
wearing rubber-soled shoes but you still never know -"
"Donna," he said, knowing that if he didn't cut her off soon she'd
launch into thunderstorm death statistics. "Come in." She took two
steps into the apartment and he stopped her with a hand on her
shoulder. "Actually, no, don't. Stay here."
"Stay here?" she repeated, hurt. "Joshua -"
"You're dripping," he said plaintively. "Hang on, I'll get you a
towel."
"Well thanks," she replied sarcastically.
"I'm getting you some sweats or something so you can change," he
called from his bedroom, ignoring her tone. "I don't want you dying
of pneumonia in my living room." He reappeared with a armful of
towels and sweats. "Bad press, you know."
"CJ would be scandalized," Donna replied dryly. "Hand me a towel so
I can step off this one tile that's already wet."
"Here. You know where the bathroom is, right?" She raised an
eyebrow and he conceded. "Stupid question."
A moment later she reappeared, blonde hair towel-dried and no longer
actually dripping, wet running clothes exchanged for a pair of his
sweats. Josh grinned.
"What?" she asked tightly.
"You look like CJ does your shopping," he responded, still smiling.
"Or like you're wearing her clothes - it's a toss-up."
Donna pulled at the much-too-large sweatshirt and finally smiled.
"Yeah, well I also look like I went to Yale."
An alarming picture suddenly jumped into Josh's mind. He had a
vision of himself very casually, comfortably even, sitting down on the
couch with Donna and pulling her into his arms to warm her up, pulling
her wet hair back from her face . . . He shook his head forcefully,
banishing the weird thought to whence it came. "You want some tea?"
he asked.
"No coffee?" she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
"No sugar," he replied. "But tea goes well with honey."
"You have honey and no sugar?"
"What?"
"That's just weird, Josh."
"That's why you love me." The words had just slipped out. It didn't
mean anything, they both knew, but it made for an uncomfortable pause
all the same.
"So I love you?" Donna asked teasingly.
"You can't help yourself," he replied in the same tone. Crisis over.
Banter resumed.
"Does it look like it's letting up?" Donna asked as he returned from
putting on the pot of water.
He peered out the window. "Not really. Have some tea and then I'll
drive you home."
"Josh, you don't have to . . ."
"Do you have any intention of leaving my apartment on foot or subway
while this storm continues?"
"No."
"Then my only hope of ever getting you out of here is clearly to
drive you myself." He had, contrary to appearances, learned his
lesson about comments like that. He softened this one with a warm
smile, the kind he reserved just for special moments.
Donna smiled back. Her smile abruptly faded as her mind thoroughly
and completely shocked her. She had a sudden, uncontrollable vision
of herself leaning forward and kissing Josh - not her boss, but Josh
- as acknowledgement that she understood and appreciated the sentiment
just expressed. The utter inappropriateness of such a gesture did
not escape her, and her eyes widened.
"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding concerned. "You look like you
just remembered that you forgot to feed the cats."
"Oh, God. I should not be here," she said. What had she been
thinking? Thunderstorm or no thunderstorm, she'd shown up at her
boss's apartment soaking wet and just about begging for him to take
care of her? "I've absolutely lost my mind," she said aloud.
"Um, Donna?" he asked. "I'm not gonna argue with you on that one,
but you are aware that I'm still here, right?"
"Huh?" Too late she realized she'd been rambling out loud. "Cats,"
she said abruptly.
"The musical?"
"I did forget to feed them." She winced. That sounded weak.
"I'm sure they'll live."
"They're leaving, you know." Thank God, a change in subject
presented itself.
Josh brightened. "The cats?"
She glared. "You're not at my apartment often enough for it to
concern you. Yes, the cats are moving out. Or rather, my roommate's
moving out and her cats are going with her."
He frowned. "Will you be able to keep the apartment?"
"No." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "It's not a big deal, I'm moving
to a smaller one downstairs that somebody just moved out of.
I'm just not sure I want to be alone."
"You don't like privacy?"
"I don't like the idea of me living alone in DC," she confessed.
"And it's not the greatest neighborhood."
"I could have told you that," he said. "Actually, I have told you
that."
She fought the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him.
"Are you really scared?" he asked seriously.
"Not that much, I guess," she replied, sounding uncertain. "It'll
just be - quiet. Lonely and quiet."
He nodded, looking thoughtful. An idea had just begun to blossom. A
good one.