Rating: maybe PG, but it's pretty clean

Spoilers: ITSOTG and the first season generally

Summary: a sequel of sorts to "Messengers." Danny does an interview.

Archive: If you want it, go for it.



She's taking a long time coming back from that meeting with Toby and Leo.

That's okay. It's taken me a long time to work this out. I knew it had to
be something different - everyone's rehashed Sam's story from the morning
shows and tried to catch "exclusives" from him or C.J. or Toby, but I need
something else. It took me a while to work it out, but I got it. See, I
don't necessarily need the blow-by-blow. It's been done - including by me,
the day after. Never mind I got most of my info from Katie - she didn't mind
sharing, and I filled in with what I did observe so that I didn't feel bad
about taking from her. No, what I need this time is the human interest
story. I need someone who will get under readers' skin and make them cry.

Now all I need is her permission, and probably her intercession.

I hear heels clicking up the hallway. I swear she only wears those for
maximum intimidation. I gotta tell you, maximum intimidation is pretty sexy.

"Hi," I say in what I know is a weak manner.

She looks at me by way of greeting and sits down at her desk across from me.
"What do you want?"

I'm giving her my most charming look. I suspect it's not working. "I want
an interview."

She takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes. She looks so tired. Times like
this I really just want to -

Going there won't do either of us any good at the moment.

"Danny," she begins, and I hear the weariness in her voice.

"Not with you," I correct quickly. "With a staffer."

Here we go. It took her a minute, but my girl's finally suspicious. She
looks down at me. "Who?"

"See, the thing is," I say as if she hasn't asked, "I'm really not interested
in another who pushed who out of the path of the speeding bullet story. It's
done."

"By you."

"Exactly. What I'm looking for is the human interest. Someone who'll really
get to people. Make them see exactly who this happened to, besides a bunch
of politicians."

She's pretty close to glaring. "Who do you want, so I can say no?"

Here goes. "Donna Moss."

"No."

"C.J. -"

"No."

"Why -"

"Because she's upset and exhausted and I won't have you getting her all
worked up!" she practically shouts. "And because I don't think her concern
for her boss is something you should be allowed to exploit!"

"I'm not interested in exploiting her," I say quietly. "And I don't want to
get her worked up. I want to give her a chance to talk. I think someone
needs to tell people who got shot at - I mean really who, not just their
names - and I think she's the one who can do it."

"She wasn't even there."

"Because she wasn't there," I return. "She's detached from the actual event
because she didn't see it. She's focused on Josh, not on having been shot at
- that's what I want." I see in her face that I just may have made a point.
"I want to let her tell the country that those kids didn't shoot some guy in
a suit, they shot her boss."

C.J.'s quiet for a moment. When she finally speaks, she says softly, "What
if she doesn't want to?"

I shrug. "She doesn't want to talk to me, I'll leave her alone."

So here I am. I don't mind saying that with my current job I haven't been in
this neighborhood in a while. Back when I was at the city desk, that's
another story. The building isn't bad, though - clean, and well-lit, and it
looks pretty secure. We decided not to do this at the White House because I
wanted it to be on her terms. I haven't even spoken to her, actually - C.J.
set it up.

God, I love that woman. But I digress.

She opens the door looking nervous, one hand fumbling with a chain around her
neck. We haven't had a lot of contact, so I smile and try to put her at
ease. "Donna. Thanks so much for seeing me."

She nods and tries giving me a smile in return, but doesn't quite pull it
off. Her eyes are red even now, three days after the shooting, and she has
dark circles under them. She looks pale and drained in every possible way,
like most people I've seen this week. "No problem. Come on in."

Her apartment is tiny, and I know she shares it. She takes my coat but
doesn't hang it up - my reporter's eye notices that this is because there
isn't a closet. Instead she drapes it very carefully over a chair and
motions for me to sit down as she pulls the door shut. "Can I get you
anything? Coffee? Tea?"

I can hear the boiling water whistling from the kitchen, so I nod. "Tea
would be great, thanks."

By the time she sits down - on the couch with me, I notice with pleasure,
albeit on the opposite end - and sets tea in front of both of us she's a
little less nervous and fidgety. I have my notebook out already, but I set
it aside for a moment. "Donna," I say, in my best reassuring tone, "I just
want to let you know before we start that you have nothing to worry about.
I'm not here to make you look bad. Just say however much you're comfortable
with, and trust me to edit. Okay?" She nods slightly. It hadn't occurred
to me that it might be this hard getting her to open up. But then most
people are interviewed because they've done something, or they have some
issue they want to discuss - not many people are intimidated by a reporter
anymore, but Donna clearly is.

I take out a pen and smile again. "I'm just going to ask you some background
stuff first, okay?" She nods and I continue in a gentle yet businesslike
way. "How long have you worked for Josh?" I know the answer, but I'm hoping
this will get her talking.

"Since the campaign," she says.

Okay. "Um - how did you get your job?"

"Well - basically I drove from Wisconsin to New Hampshire and walked into
campaign headquarters. I picked Josh kind of at random and begged."

This is a story I haven't heard, but I sense an interesting angle. "And he
hired you?"

She laughs a little, and I come to a realization - that even though I would
characterize Donna Moss as a cheerful person I've never actually seen her
laugh, or even smile really. She has an adorable smile. "I sort of told him
someone had already hired me to be his assistant."

"How long did it take him to figure out -"

"About ten seconds." She favors me with another smile. Donna has a sense of
humor, and she's forgetting to be scared. This is going okay.

"But he hired you?"

"He did." For some reason the smile is gone. "He dragged out of me the fact
that I hadn't finished college and tried to talk me out of working for him,
but in the end he gave me a chance." Oh. Now I understand. I reach over
and cover her hand with mine for just a second. Damn professional distance
just this once - C.J.'s warning is still in my head (the exact words were "If
you make her cry I'll kill you") and Donna's - well, she's this young,
vulnerable, fragile-looking girl whose boss seems to be her foundation in
life, and he's in the hospital with a hole in his chest.

She shakes her head as if to clear it. "Sorry. Next question?"

"How did you hear about the shooting?" I ask carefully.

"I turned on the TV," she replies, looking toward it as she speaks. I swear
her eyes look as though she's watching that newscast over again. "It just
said shots had been fired at the President and that he'd been taken to GW.
So I went there to see what I could find out."

"So you didn't hear about Josh -"

"- Until I got there," she finishes. "Yeah. Toby Ziegler told me." Her
voice is getting softer.

"You were there the whole time he was in surgery?"

She nods. "For a while C.J. was with me, then Mrs. Landingham - then the
First Lady for a while, then Sam and Toby - I think they were taking shifts."

"You were there for fourteen hours?" I repeat in disbelief. Wow.

"It didn't seem that long," she says almost apologetically. "Then again, it
seemed like forever."

I stop writing. "I imagine not knowing must be the worst part."

"Yes," she whispers.

I know something about that. Anyway. "So you were there when he woke up?"

She nods, picking up her tea cup and cradling it in her hands. "I was out in
the waiting room. The President and Leo actually spoke to him for a minute.
I didn't see him until he was moved to a recovery room."

"So you've talked to him?" I know I'm treading lightly here.

"A little. This morning and some yesterday."

"He must have been glad to see you," I comment. Hey, I would be. I'm liking
Donna more and more. She's very sweet.

I get another little smile. "Actually he was pretty drugged up. He asked
about work."

"So he'll be running the country from post-op?" I joke.

She really laughs this time. "He'll try."

All right. Serious work now. "Donna," I say as kindly as I can, "there's a
specific reason I wanted to talk to you." She gives me a curious look, and I
continue. "I want to know - people all over the world have been hearing
about and reading about how the Deputy White House Chief of Staff got shot.
I want to know - I want you to tell them - about Josh. I want you to make
them see that we're talking about people, not just politics." I stop and
look at her carefully. This is an abstract question, which tends to trip up
most people not used to giving interviews. I'm ready to help her along.

She sets down her cup on the table and thinks for a moment. When she looks
up at me her eyes are suspiciously shining, but her voice is pretty steady.
"Josh isn't in it for the politics, you know. None of them are - Sam, Toby,
Leo, C.J. The President. I mean, not the politics part of politics - the
maneuvering and the deals and the power. They're all in it because they have
this huge idea that they can change things - they really believe that, even
when they're having bad days. Josh isn't a politician, he's - he's just a
guy who sees a lot of things he doesn't like, only he thinks he can fix it
all. And he'll do anything for that - he gets so caught up in just one thing
after another and it breaks his heart that he can't fix everything. And of
course you know he has to be a tough guy, so he has to hide all that, but
that's what makes him do what he does. I'm willing to bet his first thought
when the shooting started was of the President. He's just - for him
everything is about this - this need to be working for something higher."
She pauses and looks down at her hands, which are clenched in her lap. "C.J.
said he almost died in her arms, right before the paramedics got to him. She
said he told her it was worth it - that's what he said, 'It's worth it.'
You're right, people should be told that this isn't just politics. They
should care about the people on the President's staff, because the people on
the President's staff care about them. These people - they're willing to get
shot at because they think they're helping the country. That's what people
should be thinking about."

And I thought I'd have to help her along. Forget my readers; *I'm* about to
cry. Donna Moss is a hell of a woman.

When she walks me to her door I think she looks a little better. The
weariness is still there but I think in dictating to me she's managed to
invigorate herself. She still looks so very pained - and in her pain reminds
me so very much of C.J. - that I'm almost tempted to hug her, but that would
be stepping too far over a boundary. I settle for rubbing her arm as she
holds the door open, and saying, "I hope Josh Lyman knows how lucky he is."
She blushes a little and nods.

This article is going to hit hard. I can feel it.

And when Josh gets a little better, I think I'm going to laminate a copy for
him, because I doubt Donna says those things to his face. Pity.


The End.