See Disclaimers in part 1
****
Taking the Offense 2/2
By Lacy
I stash my bag in the bottom drawer of my desk, and grab a notepad and
a pen from the coffee mug I use as a caddy.
"Where have you been?" Josh's voice startles me.
"I had a session," I remind him.
"From which you were supposed to return half an hour ago." I can tell
that he's been glued to his crappy watch for the last thirty minutes.
"You have to meet with Leo in forty-five minutes."
He checks his watch again, his eyes widening. "Something I would have
remembered had you been here half an hour ago to remind me."
"That's a given," I chuckle.
"What's with the notepad?" he points to the papers in my hand.
"Oh, nothing. I just need to make some lists, that's all. Do you
have everything you need for Leo?"
"Yeah. Dr. Kreskin keep you late for any special reason?"
"I'm sorry. I had some things to think about afterwards. I needed to
clear my head."
"Are you okay?" he drops his voice a notch.
"I'm fine," I reassure him. "Just a little crazy, that's all."
"Did you learn the secret handshake for the mental instability club?"
"I must've missed that. You'll have to teach to me later," I purr
suggestively.
Josh opens his mouth, perhaps to say something annoyingly witty, when
CJ breezes by, her lips firmly set and her spine straightened. She
strides right between us before coming to an abrupt halt. She pivots
on one heel and addresses the both of us in a low tone that allows for
no arguments.
"The both of you. My office. Now." She only mouths last word,
allowing no sound to escape, before pivoting again and stalking away.
Josh and I fall into step together as we walk the bullpen divider that
separates Josh's office from CJ's.
"What are you thinking?" I ask.
"I'm thinking that Leo just dropped the bomb on CJ."
"She did NOT look pleased."
"Maybe we can bribe her by promising her she can be the godmother."
"It's risky," I say.
With a firm hand on my elbow, he stops me just before we enter CJ's
domain. "If we don't make it through this, I just want you to know
that I love you," he smirks. He's making light of the situation, but
deep down I know he's uneasy.
"Get in here now!" The disembodied voice of CJ Cregg floats out into
the bullpen. Well, now anyone within a five mile radius of the White
House knows something is up.
"Are you trying to tip off the press?" Josh asks as he leads me into
the office.
"Oh," CJ says, "the press won't need tipping in a few weeks if the
information I've just received is correct. And I have no reason to
believe that it's not."
"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Leo told you," Josh blurts
out.
"Josh," she says, her nose flaring, "right now I am so pissed I could
saw that limb right out from under you."
"Leo told you?"
"Of course, Leo told me, you moron!"
"So, I'm guessing you didn't call us in here to congratulate us." I
flinch helplessly as Josh digs his hole deeper and deeper.
"Josh," I hiss.
"I had to find out from Leo, Josh. Leo!" She drops into her chair,
seemingly exhausted by her own frustration. "I should have been the
one informing Leo. I should have been able to go to him with a plan.
But that's not how it happened. And do you know WHY that's not how
it happened?" Josh opens his mouth to reply, but never gets the
chance. "I'll tell you why that's not how it happened. That's not
how it happened because you didn't come to me first. In fact, I've
only recently discovered that I am the last one to find out. The last
one! Is there something wrong with this picture?"
"I--," he begins.
"Yes, there is something wrong with this picture. We have been in
office for two and half years, but you know what? I think you need a
refresher course in the duties and responsibilities of the White House
Press Secretary. Rule number one. Do you remember what rule number
one is?"
"I--"
"There is no 'I', Josh. Rule number one is...say it with me folks,
'I'm your first call'. You got that? Not the second, not the third,
and certainly NOT the last. The first call, Josh. Carol!"
Carol pops her head in, her eyebrows knitted together in worry.
"Yes?"
"Get me a beer."
"Sure," she slinks out the door.
"CJ, do you really think now is the time to be drinking?" I work up
the nerve to ask.
"Now is exactly the time to be drinking," she propels herself from her
chair and begins her pacing. "But that's not why I want the beer. My
fridge is filled with water bottles -- plastic water bottles." She
levels her steely gaze on Josh before continuing. "Beer bottles, on
the other hand, are made of glass. I'm going to down that beer in a
single gulp, and then I'm going to take that glass bottle and hit you
over the head with it!"
"CJ, you're starting to freak me out now," Josh flinches. Josh never
flinches. He holds his hands up, like a negotiator talking down a
jumper. "Let's just all calm down, so that we can think through this
rationally," he says in his most soothing voice. "Can you please not
yell at Donna?"
"I wasn't yelling at Donna," she insists. "I was yelling at you."
"I don't want you yelling anywhere in the vicinity of Donna, CJ."
"Please, don't blame this on Josh, CJ. It really wasn't his fault.
He's had so much to worry about in the last few weeks." That's right
-- just call me Tammy Wynette.
"I should have been your first call, as soon as you knew. When did
you know?"
"In the hospital," Josh answers. "And then, I didn't know if Donna
and I would be able to put things back together."
"And I didn't know if I was ready," I add. "I wasn't sure if I wanted
to have it--"
"Stop right there," CJ holds up a hand. "From this point on, you will
not mention what you were just about to mention."
"But it's the--"
"No," she interjects. "That could look even worse than the possible
meltdown I'm facing right now. No one needs to know about that. It
could only make matters worse. It's a whole can of worms we don't
need opened this close to the start of the reelection campaign."
"It's always 'this close' to reelection, CJ," Josh counters.
"Yes, Josh, it is. Which is something you should've considered
*before* you knocked up your girlfriend!"
"What is this…high school?"
It's at this point of the discussion…argument…whatever…that my breath
catches in my chest and my eyes begin to well up. I'm usually more
composed than this. Especially when CJ gets into one of her moods.
Josh and CJ are great friends -- they bonded during the campaign, but
she's never hesitated to let loose on him whenever she thinks she's
been wronged. She can be a force of nature -- a monsoon battering and
disparaging everything in her path. And right now, Josh is in her
path.
Once my mind acknowledges the fact that I'm about to cry, I go from
teary to weepy in about thirty seconds. I have to admit that this
embarrasses me. I've expended no small amount of energy over the last
two and half years cultivating my ability to appear calm and collected
in front of Josh's senior staff peers. I'm usually able to present
the perfect image of the unruffled assistant until I can conceivably
absent myself to a quiet place, if need be.
Quiet tears have, at times, been allowed. Tears of joy - always
welcome whenever merited. But this…this cannot be borne…this
uncontrollable weeping…here in the White House? I am mortified, which
only transforms the steady stream of tears into a veritable flood.
Through my blurry vision, I can discern the shell-shocked expression
on CJ's face, as she now focuses her attention upon me.
"Donna?" she asks with concern.
"Now look what you've done, CJ," Josh accuses.
"I-It wasn't h-his fault," I weep, trying to catch a wavering breath
where I can. "I-It was me. I was sick. I lost t-track. We thought
we were c-covered." And to add insult to injury, it seems I am no
longer capable of speaking coherently. A handkerchief appears in
front of me, and I take it gratefully from Josh's hand.
"Of course, Donna," CJ says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and
leading me to the sofa. Her tone is apologetic, suggesting remorse
for her previous loss of professional control. "Sometimes things just
happen."
"And we didn't k-know about the baby until I was taken to the
emergency r-room. We've h-hardly gotten used to the idea ourselves,
CJ." The tears just keep on rolling, and the words continue to spill
forth even though I know I should stop talking. "I'm s-sorry." I
take a shaky breath, gulp down the salty tears in the back of my
throat, and attempt to compose myself. "If it's going to cause too
much trouble, I'll just resign," I offer.
"NO!" they shout in unison. Then I begin crying because they don't
accept the offer I hated making.
"Everything's going to be just fine, Donna," CJ consoles.
"Do you think this could cause problems for reelection?" I ask.
CJ purses her lips together in thought, and Josh has the brooding
forehead wrinkles going on. "No more than anything else," CJ sighs,
after a moment of silence. She sits beside me on the sofa; her hand
traveling up and down my spine to sooth the muscles that quiver with
each breath I attempt. "We just have to come up with a strategy,
that's all."
"Why does this have to be a thing?" I sigh.
"I don't know," she replies. "Unfortunately, I don't get to pick and
choose what gets to become a thing, and what doesn't."
The ebb and flow of my tears decides to ebb again, and I glance up to
see Josh pacing the floor in front of CJ's desk. "So, what do we do?"
he asks.
"I'll need to think this through," CJ replies. "In the meantime, play
it close to the chest - be discreet."
"In other words, do what we've been doing."
"Yeah," she answers, but she seems to have trouble making eye contact
with him.
"Are we done?" he asks.
"Yeah," she pipes.
He offers me his hand, tugging just enough to help me out of CJ's deep
couch cushions. "Let's go," he mumbles, reaching for the doorknob.
But CJ's voice catches us just before we exit the office.
"Josh?"
"Yeah," he sighs.
"Congratulations," she offers - a small token of her apologies. "To
both of you."
Josh nods his assent, and with a hand on my lower back he guides me
out the door. "What was that?" he asks. "I've never seen anything
like that before."
"I don't know," I admit, still wiping the remaining moisture from
beneath my eyes. "I just started and I couldn't seem to stop. It was
absolutely mortifying."
"It was fantastic!"
"What?"
"One minute she's ripping me a new one and the next she's trying to
keep you from becoming a salty puddle on her carpet."
"I didn't do it on purpose, Josh," I remind him, as I follow into his
office.
"Yeah, but do you think you could?"
"What?!"
"It could be a handy tool to have around this place," he suggests with
a smirk. "For, you know, whenever I get into trouble."
"You're suggesting that every time you do something stupid, I should
swoop in with the tears and the shaky voice?" I ask, incredulous.
"Yeah," he says, excitedly. "And the part about it being all your
fault...that wouldn't hurt either."
"I don't think explaining that it's my fault because I forgot to take
my birth control pill is going to get you out of many kinds of
trouble, Josh."
"We could work out an act," he suggests.
"Have you taken leave of your senses? This isn't vaudeville, Josh.
It's the White House!"
His goofy, ridiculous grin, that I can't help but be infected by,
slips into something a little less audacious -- a sweet tilt of his
mouth. "I know," he says.
"Then what the hell was that all about?"
"It got you to smile, didn't it?" he shrugs.
He doesn't always do everything right. In fact, most of the time he
struggles with knowing what to do next. I have to feel for him now,
because I've just realized I'm not the only one wading through foreign
territory. I find that my tears are threatening to make an encore
performance, except this time they'll be the tears of a heart moved.
There were so many things he could have said or done, with a nervous
desire to stop my tears, but he went further. His goal wasn't just to
plug up my irrepressible weeping - his goal was to coax a smile.
Then again, sometimes he does everything right after all.
"You're going to be a great dad," I blurt out.
An eerie tranquility settles over the room, and I realize it's because
for a moment, he stops breathing.
"Just in case you didn't know that already," I add.
I don't have the opportunity to catch my breath before his arms are
around my waist and he's planting a kiss on me. And you should know
this isn't just any kiss. It's the kind of kiss where you can
actually hear the music swell and see the credits beginning to roll.
It's Lawrence Olivier and Merle Oberon; it's Ingrid Bergman and
Humphrey Bogart; it's Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh. All rolled into
one. I can feel the wind ravaging my hair.
Okay. Maybe I'm being a little melodramatic with the wind. As it
turns out, it's actually Josh's fingers doing the ravaging. Excuse
me. I'm a wee bit emotional right now.
He pulls out of this kiss, and the room is now filled with the sounds
of our lungs forcefully dragging in much needed air. "Thank you," he
whispers harshly when he can. We stand there for, I don't know how
long, before my mind chooses an inconvenient moment to remind me of
CJ's words.
"Discreet," I say. "We have to be discreet." I step out of his arms,
putting a professionally acceptable distance between our bodies.
"Yeah," his voice agrees, but his eyes are screaming the contrary.
They bore into mine, searing a fiery streak down my spine, and
spreading a warm glow throughout my flesh.
I swallow with some difficulty and root around for the part of my
personality that is so good at being his assistant. "You have a
meeting with Leo," I finally manage to say.
"I've still got three minutes."
"Have you always been late to everything?"
"Not since you came into my life."
"It never hurts to be early, Josh." I need him to leave. Right now,
I need him to go, so that I can collect my charged and frazzled
molecules and force them into some professional organization.
"I'm going," he says, picking up his binder. "After this, we can get
out of here."
"Okay."
When he passes by me and out the door, my fingers touch my well-kissed
lips. There's something to be said for an old-fashioned kiss. Even
without all the bells and whistles it can take your breath and rob you
of all mental abilities. Maybe...because there's a simplicity to the
old-fashioned kiss. It's not about sex, or pheromones, or even making
love. It's about emotion. Raw, pure, simple emotion.
I think I've been standing here for a long while replaying the kiss in
my head, when I recall that I'm supposed to be doing something. There
was something about...a plan. What was that again? The synapses in
my brain begin a slow boot process, and when they're firing at regular
intervals, I remember that I'm supposed to be taking the offense.
That's right. Operation Take the Offense.
I make a quick trip to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my
face, in hopes of jarring myself back to normal. Also, my face feels
a little raw from all the crying.
Back in the bullpen, I retrieve a note book and a pen, and head
purposefully to Communications. If I hurry, I can kick Operation Take
the Offense into gear before Josh gets out of his meeting.
Sam's door is wide open when I breeze in, closing the door behind me.
"Oh, God. What did I do now?" he asks, his head snaps up from the
keyboard of his laptop.
"I need your help," I inform him.
"Is something wrong?"
His forehead creases together and even through his glasses I can see
the concern in his eyes. "It's nothing," I reassure. "I just need a
little of your expertise."
"You want me to write a speech for you?"
"No," I tell him.
"I don't understand," he places his hands on his hips. He must have
ditched his jacket hours ago. His tie is loosened and his sleeves are
rolled up.
"I need your help," I say again, "but it's very important that Josh
not know anything about this."
"Oh, Donna, I don't think--"
"I mean, he'll know eventually, but for now, I need this to be on the
QT."
He considers this for a moment, torn between discovering what has me
in a tizzy, and the possibility of betraying his best friend. "What
do you need?" he asks, at last.
"A lawyer."
"Josh is a lawyer."
"I need a lawyer that actually pays his dues to the ABA, Sam."
"Josh doesn't pay his dues?"
"Well, I do. But if I didn't, he wouldn't and we're straying from the
point."
"You haven't done anything, have you? Illegal, I mean."
"Sam!"
"You're right. I'm sorry. Forgot to whom I was speaking for a
moment. Go on, tell me what you need."
"I need," and I just know this is going to sound crazy, "to take a
little control."
I take a seat in the chair across from his desk and spill my entire
story and my plan for Sam. He nods and agrees and tells me he
believes I've a good decision. I'm filled with a sudden relief I
can't explain. He tells me we'll get right to work and that, with our
schedules it may take a few days to hammer out the details, even
though it should be a fairly simple procedure.
Sam offers me unwavering support, and I guess that's when I have a
revelation. You might wonder what took me so long. You might even
have thought it was something I already knew -- but it really wasn't.
I discover that Sam isn't just Josh's friend.
He's my friend, too.
The End.