Spoilers: Up through "Elllie"

Disclaimer: The characters represented in the following post do not belong to me. And I gain nothing but a little thrill by doing this.

Archive: Sure! Just tell me where and give me credit.

This is the Good Part

By Mary

What have I done to deserve this, I thought to myself? Leo hadn’t really left me "alone" since before the shooting and all it’s aftermath, so I’d been a little nervous about this week, but things had been running smoothly. Efficiently, even. That’s what I told Donna Wednesday night. Efficiency and professionalism–that’s what was running "my" White House.

"With a healthy dollop of leadership. The well-placed, well-worded memo. Nobody goes off the reservation. Everybody does their job. Turn off your computer–let’s go."

Donna said she was going to stay and watch the Surgeon General’s online chat. She suggested that I stay, too, but I just wanted to get out of there. And I wanted her to leave with me. I didn’t quite know what I was going to do. I didn’t have a plan, but I was running scenarios in my head about making a casual dinner offer as we walked to our cars. I was starting to put stock in the "I know it’s Wednesday, but since we rarely get out of here this early, how about we pickup some Chinese and go watch a movie at my place to celebrate?" option. I thought it had legs–it might work. And it was casual enough to not be considered threatening, yet achieved my goal of spending quality time away from work with Donna--something I sorely missed.

That’s when things started spiraling out of control. And how it became my fault is still something I’m struggling with. When I showed the chat transcripts to CJ and Toby, they both asked why I hadn’t come to get them while it was going on. First of all, I was watching the thing with Donna like we were watching an accident happen; you’re powerless to stop it and you can’t look away.

I had a serious problem with Toby’s claim that he could have stopped it while it was in progress and his assertion that I could have done something myself. Like I told him, "I’m not going to belay into the computer screen!"

Once we had determined what time it was in Tokyo and when the president and Leo would be back, everyone dispersed to let me deal with this. Donna tracked down Leo and stayed with me while he gave me advice. He had asked me what I thought we should do and agreed with my plans, which made me feel good. I hadn’t dealt with a situation like this on my own for a while and it was good to know that I still had "it." Donna was taking notes from my side of the conversation and smiling wildly at me as she realized that Leo was going to let me run with this. I was back!

**********

Thursday morning, I was on a conference call with Leo and a bunch of other advisors discussing the situation with the Surgeon General when CJ came in for advise on her briefing. I quizzed her to make sure could show support to the Surgeon General without representing that we had changed our stance on drugs. She was good to go and I told Leo that we could take this to the next level. That’s when he told me what I’d feared for the last 12 hours.

"Leo wants me to show our support?" CJ asked as I hung up the phone and walked around my desk.

"Yeah."

"Josh, while I’m showing her support, what are you showing her?" she asked as I put on my coat.

"The door."

**********

It had been a while since I’d last seen the Surgeon General. She was a friend of Abbey’s as well as the chief medical practitioner for the country, so she had been around after the shooting last year.

As she showed me into her office, I felt like I was about to have a check-up. She asked about my blood pressure (a little high to her), how my right arm and leg were (still a little stiff), and my back. But the thing that threw me was when she commented about what a nice scar the surgeons had left me with. I had a lot of visitors while I was in the hospital, but I hadn’t remembered flashing my scar to Dr. Griffith. I was a little uncomfortable when she told me she’d seen it when I was unconscious. What else had she seen? Who else had paraded through my room giving me impromptu exams while I was unconscious? Man! And I’m standing in her office about to ask her to resign! How uncomfortable is that?

Before I was able to move into the purpose for my visit, she briefly channeled my mother and criticized my eating habits. That was about all I could take. I interrupted her lecture and redirected our conversation.

Unfortunately, it turned out that this visit was in vain. She refused to resign her position and said she would serve until the president fired her.

I returned to the White House to continue driving the Damage Control Train. Leo was going to have to talk to the Surgeon General. He’d be able to reason with her. Meanwhile, we had to be careful what we said and to whom we said it. Unfortunately, the president’s middle daughter, Ellie, didn’t get that memo.

**********

Friday morning I was back to my "normal" routine. Leo was back and my stress level decreased with that knowledge. He met with Dr. Griffith and gave her an 8:00 p.m. ultimatum for tendering her resignation or the president would fire her. Leo left for the day, but asked me to make sure that the whole thing was put to bed before I left the building that night.

I was walking through the west wing and stopped to drop off a folder on Leo’s desk. The connecting door to the Oval Office was open and the president saw me. "Josh."

I stepped into the Oval Office and asked, "Yes, Mr. President?"

"What’s going on, Josh? Anything new I need to know about?"

"Nothing new, Mr. President. We’re still waiting to hear back from the Surgeon General. Leo talked to her earlier today. I told Leo I’d hang around until we knew what was happening there."

The president looked tired. The trip to Japan (and his return trip through the space-time continuum) combined with the stress of dealing with his daughter’s unexpected comment seemed to have taken their toll.

"Josh, I convinced Ellie to stay over tonight. Charlie got us ‘Dial M for Murder’ to watch. While you’re waiting, why don’t you join us?"

I thought about that for a minute. It was Friday night. It had been a long week and I was pretty fried from it. I was already planning on working Saturday–like always. Anything I was going to do tonight could be taken care of over the weekend. Then I remembered that Donna was still there, waiting for me to leave.

"Sir, would it be alright if Donna came to the movie, too?"

"Of course, Josh. Anyone is more than welcome to join us. However, if you think I’m going to single-handedly orchestrate your love life–

"Love life? Sir? Donna’s my assistant!" I squeaked.

"Really, Josh. For such a smart guy, you’re pretty much of an idiot if that’s all you think of Donna."

"Sir–of course not, but… Mr. President, I’m afraid you’ve lost me."

The president smiled at my bewilderment. There I was, the Deputy Chief of Staff, standing just inside the Oval Office, the office of the President of the United States, and I was trying to figure out just what the president was trying to say to me.

Of course I thought of Donna as more than just my assistant. But just what I thought of her, I wasn’t entirely sure. I knew I’d be lost without her. I knew my office would fall apart without her skilled hand to manage it. I knew it was her friendship, attention, and fierce protection that had seen me through my long recovery last summer.

During that time, I had looked forward to her arrival everyday and I had always looked for some reason for her to stay as long as possible. By the end of the summer, she was bringing me lunch and what work she was allowing me to do just before noon and usually staying through ordered-in dinner and a movie or two in the evening. I missed that, but I figured that she was doing it because I was "sick." Once I was back at work, I was afraid it would seem too much like a date if I had asked her to come over to hang out like that again.

I also knew that it made me crazy when she went on her infrequent dates. I had never tried to put a name to those irrational feelings, but it was dawning on me right then that it was the green-eyed monster–jealousy. I hated it when she went on dates because whoever the guy was, it wasn’t me. I still couldn’t quite put a name to the way I felt about Donna, but I knew that it wasn’t just friendship.

Am I attracted to Donna? I mean, of course she’s beautiful. Those blue eyes and blonde hair against her alabaster skin. She’s a cross between a china doll and the girl next door. But she’s no dumb blonde. She constantly catches me off-guard with her astute observations about the situations that we deal with on a daily basis. She knows as much or more about our world than I do sometimes.

So, what was the president trying to tell me? And whatever it was, could it possibly be true? And how could I act on it without knowing how she felt about me? What if she doesn’t feel the same way about me? I’m not sure I could deal with that.

The President spoke, breaking my reverie. "Josh, I’m a happily married man who has never had eyes for anyone but my beautiful wife, but I’d have to be completely blind to not notice the way you two look at each other."

"But she’s been pushing me to date Joey Lucas!" I blurted out, still confused.

"Josh," the president shook his head, motioning me sit down. "Can’t you see what she’s doing? She’s a smart woman, but she’s just as thickheaded as you are! I’m guessing that she fears that you don’t feel the same way about her, so she’s covering herself by trying to interest you in Joey Lucas. She probably figures you’ll either take the bait and date Joey, or that by pushing you at Joey, you’ll come to your senses and figure out that what you want–what you need–has been standing in front of you, and more importantly, beside you, for the last 3 years."

Whoa! This was the 2^nd time I’d been told something like this in the last few weeks. The night after the state of the union, Joey Lucas had told me pretty much the same thing. She had said, "If you polled 100 Donnas, and asked them if they thought we should go out, you’d get a high positive response. But the poll wouldn’t tell you it’s because she likes you and she knows it’s beginning to show and she needs to cover herself with misdirection." I had brushed it off at the time as silly, but could she have been right?

I looked down at the floor. I almost let my hopes get up when reality crept back into to my muddled brain. "Sir, if what you’re saying is true, and I’m not sure that it is, we can’t act on it. She’s my assistant. The last thing we need is a scandal involving the Deputy Chief of Staff dating his assistant."

The president chuckled. "Josh, do you really think that she works ‘for’ you? Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say that she works ‘with’ you?"

I looked up at the president, perplexed. He’s laughing at my pain here, I thought.

"We both know that there’s no such thing as a concrete job title in the White House. So we promote Donna and change her job title to ‘Research Associate’ or something that better describes what she really does. Hell, call her the Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff if you want."

I had to smile at the president’s use of Donna’s bad joke.

The president continued, "All I know is that you’d be lost without her, not to mention the effect it would have on your office."

I nodded, admitting the truth to the president’s statement.

"My point is this, Josh: You better figure out how you really feel about Donna and do something about it before she settles for somebody else."

I nodded, running my hands through my hair.

"Come to the movie and bring Donna," POTUS said as I stood to leave.

"Yes, Mr. President," I said, turning to leave the way I’d entered.

"Whatever you decide, don’t screw this up, Josh."

I nodded. "Thank you, Mr. President."

********

I slowly walked back to my office, still thinking about all the things the president had just thrown at me, as well as replaying conversations with others over the last several months. When I had asked Sam for his opinion about the whole Joey Lucas thing, he had agreed that I should ask her out, but also agreed that I do my best to sabotage Donna’s dates. At the time, I thought he was supporting me, but now I have to wonder.

And the president didn’t spend that much time around Donna and I together, yet he said he could see that there was something there. That must say something. I wanted to stop everyone I passed in the halls and ask them if they could see it, too, but decided that probably wasn’t the best way for me to figure this out.

I was glad to see that Donna was on the phone as I neared my office. I went inside and closed the door. I needed to think. I had to work out just what my feelings were about Donna and then decide what I was going to do about them.

I turned around and put my feet up on the windowsill. This position usually inspired deep thought for me. Why did I suddenly feel like I was back in junior high school? I felt like I should ask Sam to pass a note to her in study hall to see if she likes me before I decided to risk my heart on the possibility that I’m was in love with her.

What a minute–where did that come from? Did that really come out of my brain? Am I in love with Donna? Is that an accurate tag for the feelings I have for her? Let’s recap. I’ve already determined that I get crazy-jealous when she has a date. Check. I do just about anything I can to make sure that she spends the majority of her waking hours with me. Check. I wake up with a smile on my face on weekends because I know that it will be her voice at the other end of the ringing phone. Check.

My feet drop off the windowsill and hit the floor, bringing me to an upright position. The president was right! I am in love with her. My day doesn’t start until I’ve either seen her or spoken to her. I get a warm feeling when our eyes meet across the room, regardless of the situation.

It’s like somebody turned up the lights in my head. Things are finally becoming clear to me. This explains the somersault that my stomach does when she sneaks into meetings to whisper messages to me. And I can’t even describe my response when her soft voice says, "Josh, I need you," to pull me out of a meeting. I’m picturing her in a completely different setting saying those same words under totally different circumstances; circumstances that a boss shouldn’t normally picture his assistant in.

Okay, so I know how I feel now. I’m in love with Donnatella Moss. However, I still haven’t gotten the response back from that note Sam passed her. I wonder if he’d do that for me? He probably would, but that would be wrong. I’m an adult. I’m the Deputy Chief of Staff to the President of the United States, for goodness sakes! I’ve made US Senators cry before! I can manage my own love life.

My love life. I don’t have a love life. Heck, if the shooters at Rosslyn had had better aim, I wouldn’t have a life right now. But I do have a life and a job that I love. And I could have a love life. I’d really like to have a love life. And now I realize that I’d like to have Donna be the love in my life. The love of my life.

********

While I was having this epiphany, Donna had opened my door to check on me. Who knows if she knocked–I’m sure I wouldn’t have heard it. My first knowledge that she was in there was when she quietly asked, "Josh? Are you alright?"

She was standing on the other side of my desk looking at me strangely. The sound of her voice snapped me out of my head. I looked up at her and smiled. "Yeah, Donna. Everything is fine."

Her face changed from concerned to relieved when she saw my grin. She sank into the visitor chair, relaxed, and asked, "So, we’re waiting to hear from the Surgeon General, right? I saw Margaret leaving and she said that Leo had gone home for the night."

There it was! She opened the door wide enough that even I, slow, dimwitted Fulbright scholar that I am, could see the light shining through from within. She was here for the duration and I wouldn’t even have to beg her to stay.

"Yeah, he asked me to make sure this played out the way we want it to, so we wait. However, I just saw the president and he invited us to join he and Ellie to screen "Dial M for Murder" in the theater. How’s that sound?" I asked hopefully.

"Classic Hitchcock on a big screen in a private theater? Why are we sitting here? Let’s go!"

As we walked through the hallways leading to the White House Theater, Donna regaled me with a litany of reasons why "Dial M for Murder" was a classic movie. As sometimes happens when Donna shares her abundance of information with me, I listened, nodded, and interjected the occasional, "Really?" "Oh" and "Hmm." At that point, my mind was the consistency of cooked oatmeal and all I could think of was that I was headed to a dark movie theater and Donna was going to be sitting next to me.

As we approached the theater, the doors were closed, indicating that they had started the movie. The president loved movies and had the kitchen staff setout movie style popcorn and buckets of iced sodas. I pointed this out to Donna as we rushed in. I thought I had indicated that I wanted her to grab me a soda. She mentioned that she’d like some popcorn. They were large buckets, so I figured we could share.

We snuck into the theater and grabbed seats on an aisle near the back. Donna looked at me expectantly, holding out her hand. I was looking at her the same way. She thought I was getting her popcorn and I thought she was getting me a soda. After a quick low-volume argument, she asked if we couldn’t share. I didn’t tell her that I had intended to share the popcorn, but said, "I suppose. You always eat my French Fries anyway."

I noticed that the president wasn’t sitting with his daughter but instead was behind her and was surprisingly quiet. I leaned over to Donna and whispered, "This isn’t good."

"What?" she asked.

"The President’s not talking," I explained.

"There’s a movie on."

"He usually talks during the movie."

I was so busy trying to put myself in the president’s shoes and figure out what was keeping him so quiet that I didn’t even notice Charlie quietly sneak in and get him until they were headed up the aisle on my right. I was reaching for some popcorn when I sensed movement on my left. Seems Donna had the same idea that I did and our hands collided in the popcorn bucket. The feel of her soft hand touching mine caused my heart to beat faster as our eyes met briefly. I suddenly felt that I’d done something wrong, but it sure felt good. After a beat, we both whispered, "Sorry," and looked away.

I turned my attention back to the movie and tried to will my heart to slow down before it burst out of my chest, blowing my cover and telling the world I was in love with Donna. I knew that this was what I wanted–to have Donna sitting beside me in the darkened theater--but I hadn’t thought about how distracting it might be. I had to turn my head slightly and watch her profile as she became engrossed in the movie again.

I have no idea how much time had passed and I was still gazing unabashedly at Donna when I was startled by a hand on my right shoulder. It was the president telling me to tell CJ to mean her support for the surgeon general when she gave her next briefing. I knew that meant that he had decided to keep Dr. Griffith on.

I stood up and cautioned the president, "You know it’s going to seem to some people like you did it cause your daughter asked you to?"

"Yeah, You know, Josh, I think if you ever have a daughter, you’re going to discover that there are worse reasons in the world to do something. Sit down–we’re coming to the good part."

When I sat down, Donna was looking at me. She asked what happened and I told her that the president had not accepted the Surgeon General’s resignation. Amazingly, Donna parroted back the exact same thing I’d said to the president. I agreed with her, telling myself that she really is tuned to me.

I was still thinking of the other thing that the president had said to me when Donna asked, "What else, Josh?"

I debated whether or not I should tell the other thing the president had said to me. I couldn’t get it out of my head. First the president drops the bomb on me about Donna and how he thinks I feel about her. Now he was talking to me about my unborn children! The president’s comment was trapped in my head with my brain’s unspoken reply; "I hope my daughter has Donna’s eyes." I was trying to come to terms with the implications of that thought. In order for my unborn daughter to have Donna’s eyes, it would suggest that Donna would be the mother of that child.

Without looking at her, I told her what the president had said. She was quiet for a beat, before saying simply, "Oh."

I finally turned my head to look at her and quietly spoke the thought that my brain was screaming. "I hope she has your eyes."

Donna’s head slowly turned and those eyes met mine. I was desperately searching her face for her reaction. She had heard what I said and the look in her eyes was a changing combination of confusion, fear, curiosity, and concern as each emotion took turns being the strongest of the four. I was silently praying for a smile or even a sigh, but her expression didn’t change. Finally she broke eye contact and looked back at the movie screen.

At that moment, my world began to crumble. I sank down in my seat to avoid the inevitable thud when the falling pieces began to hit me on the head. The president was wrong! Everyone was wrong! She didn’t love me. Heck, she might not even like me. I was certain that I had just lost a good friend and the world’s best assistant, not to mention the love of my life in one fell swoop. How could I have listened to the president? He’s a brilliant man, but what was I doing taking dating advice from him? This was all my fault. All I could hope now was that she didn’t file harassment charges against me.

I sat there feeling sorry for myself and praying that Charlie would come pass me a note with some national emergency–anything to let me escape from the private hell that this theater seat had become. Maybe if I slumped down far enough, the seat would swallow me up and I could just disappear.

I was startled out of planning the end of my world by Donna’s voice whispering close to my ear. "Is it cold in here?" she asked.

When I turned to look at her, I was thrilled to see the shy smile on her face. The look in her eyes told me that she was somehow trying to make up for looking away before. I drew myself back up in my seat and wrapped my left arm around her shoulders, whispering, "Come here," like it was a big imposition for me to do this. I know I didn’t fool her with what I said because my bad poker face was surely giving me away. I knew I was grinning like a fool, but I didn’t care. I rubbed her arm a little to warm her up, then tentatively pulled her closer to me so I could cover more of her with my arm.

She willingly leaned closer to me, but didn’t quite settle the way I’d hoped she might. She was close enough that I could smell her hair and I couldn’t stop myself from lightly stroking the strands that were touching my left hand. She sighed softly and laid her head on my shoulder.

I was relaxed, but very aware that I was sitting in the back of the White House Theater, cuddled up with my assistant. There weren’t that many other people in the theater and most of them were in front of us. Thank goodness Leo had gone home and the president was way down front. However, it was the president that had encouraged me earlier today, so…

Donna moved slightly, looking up at me and said, "Josh, I–"

I squeezed her shoulder and said, "Shh. This is the good part." I thought briefly before placing a light kiss on her forehead.

She sighed almost imperceptibly and put her head back on my shoulder. I absently stroked her arm as we watched the end of the movie.

********

As the credits were winding down, the president thanked everyone for joining he and Ellie and bid us all good night. With the house lights coming up slowly, I decided I should probably disentangle myself from my assistant. Even though the president had planted the seeds I was attempting to sow in my brain, it probably wouldn’t look good for us to be cuddling in the back of the theater as the others filed out.

I squeezed Donna’s shoulder one more time, then hopped up and offered her my hand to help her up. As we left the theater, it was habit to lightly guide her out with my hand hovering near the small of her back. I desperately wanted to touch her, but reminded myself that we were still at work. Maybe later…

But when later? And where? Our reason for staying was gone since the situation with the Surgeon General was settled. I could ask her out for coffee. Or dessert? Maybe even a late dinner? It was only 10 p.m.

While my mind was kicking into high gear trying to figure out what to do next, we had made our way back to the office and gathered our things. We were walking out to our cars, when I decided to go ahead and bite the bullet.

I stopped in front on Donna’s car and turned to speak, but was struck by the look on her face. She looked terrified. "Donna? Are you alright?"

She looked down at the ground and mumbled, "I’m fine–it’s silly, really."

Buzz! Wrong answer! My protective side was fighting with my curious side. I had to know that she didn’t look like that because of what we’d shared in the movie. "Donna–"

She still didn’t meet my eyes, but the words tumbled out of her mouth after a short pause. She explained how movies like the one we’d just watched sometimes scared her and she was afraid to go home to her apartment alone because somebody might be hiding behind the curtains and she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

I stopped her by asking, "Donna, would you feel better if I followed you home and made sure that nobody was lying in wait for you?"

She looked up briefly, checking my expression and saw that I was grinning at her warmly. A slight blush lit up her cheeks as she sheepishly admitted, "Yes." She hastily added, "If you don’t mind?"

Ding, ding ding! We have a winner! Mind? How could I mind? She had given me the perfect opportunity to see her home without any work required on my part! I spun her around and gave her a light push. "Get in your car, Donna. I’m right behind you."

********

After I parked on the street, I bounded out of the car and fell in step with her as we entered the building. She unlocked the door and I went in ahead of her, turning on lights and began checking rooms. I felt a little silly, but I was grateful for the opportunity to be here and make her feel safer. I live to be the hero!

After determining that her apartment was free of intruders. I was waiting by the front door when she walked out from the bedroom, dropping her coat on the back of a nearby chair. She was grinning bashfully as she continued to walk toward me. She collided with me, throwing her arms around my neck. Speaking into my shoulder, she said "Thanks, Josh. I’m sorry, I just–

I wrapped my arms around her waist and shushed her. Rubbing my hands up and down her back, I said, "Donna. Don’t worry about it. It’s okay."

She was quiet and seemed to stop breathing momentarily. I pulled back to look at her, keeping my hands linked behind her back. Our eyes met as she looked at me. My heart started beating faster and my brain was screaming, "Don’t look away. Please don’t look away, Donna!" Her clear blue eyes pierced my soul and the corners of her mouth seemed to be torn about whether or not to smile. She maintained the eye contact and somehow I knew that the president was right.

I slowly pulled her closer to me, my lips meeting hers. As I pulled back slightly, she gasped quietly.

"Salty," I whispered.

"What?"

"Your lips–they’re salty from the popcorn." I couldn’t stop the goofy grin that I felt spreading across my face.

Quietly, she said, "Oh." There was a slight pause before she continued, "Josh, what are we–I mean, tonight was–"

I knew what she was doing; she was trying to look at what had happened during the evening from the sensible side of her brain. I’m her boss. She’s my assistant. This must be wrong, but it certainly didn’t feel wrong to me standing here in Donna’s apartment, holding her tightly.

I stopped her from continuing by kissing her again. This time, she tightened her grip around my neck, wrapping her fingers in my hair. I left one hand on her back and moved the other up to the back of her head, plunging my fingers into her hair and cradling her head. Holding her as close as possible, our lips parted, deepening the kiss. When we finally separated, we were both a little breathless.

Still holding her close, I leaned my forehead against hers and said quietly, "I should go." I should go but I certainly didn’t want to go. But if there was truly something between Donna and I, I wanted to treasure it and have it grow slowly and blossom. I was also reminded of the president telling me to not screw this up. I spoke again, telling her, "Donna, don’t worry about tonight–we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," she replied softly.

I reluctantly pulled back and kissed her on the forehead, saying, "Sleep well, Donnatella."

With that, I turned to leave, stopping with my hand on the doorknob when Donna asked, "Josh–I’ll call you?"

I couldn’t help but grin widely at her over my shoulder, saying, "Yeah. Call me."

Someday I would have to tell her about the way my day had unfolded. I’d also have to tell her how thoroughly disappointed I would be if she didn’t call me. How my day doesn’t officially start until I’ve seen or spoken to her.

I practically bounced down the steps and out the door of her building. I was almost dancing my way back to my car. I could still smell her hair and my lips tingled, missing the touch of her lips against mine already.

I looked up at her apartment just before I stepped into my car and saw her standing at the window, her palm laid flat against the windowpane. I smiled widely and waved at her, then dropped into the car.

As I started the car and pulled away from the curb, I thought of how the president had been right about one thing, but wrong about another today. He was right about how Donna and I felt about each other, but he was wrong about what he told me when we last spoke during the movie. That wasn’t the good part; what just happened in Donna’s apartment. That was the good part. And if my luck held up, that was just the beginning.