The Question
by Jessie
Summary: Josh and Donna search for answers.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I don't claim to own them. I just like
to borrow them every now and then.
Archive: Ask and its yours.
Authors note: Like every writer, I love feedback. So please give me
some. :) I appreciate it. Also, this story is just something I sat
and wrote, not knowing how it would turn out- cause I know how much
you guys love fanfic in any way, shape, or form. :)
So- enjoy.
****
She was standing next to him as he leaned against his desk. They were
discussing something. No, not really discussing; just arguing.
Arguing for the hell of it. Arguing because they knew no other way to
express their feelings.
And then, of course, he had said something to stop this. He had
caught her off guard and ended the friendly banter.
It was only after he said it that he realized he shouldn't have,
as was typical for him. Thinking before speaking seemed a rather foreign
concept.
And now he couldn't even remember what it was he had said.
Something about her taste in men? Her ability to ignore what was right under
her nose? It had been only a few seconds ago, but he couldn't
remember the exact words. Only that he had wanted to say it, but that
it was too personal, too taboo, to attempt.
So he had said it anyway. Of course.
Her response was what would stay in his mind. The silence that
surrounded them and the intensity in her eyes. The way she stared at
him, and then looked down. The way, suddenly, the room became very
small and very dark, and all he could hear was the sound of her
breathing and his own heartbeat.
As though reading his mind, she lifted her hand and placed it against
his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath her finger tips. He
started at the action, his eyes widening in surprise and confusion.
But she stilled him with a look.
He sighed hesitantly and remained still. Quiet. She stared at her
hand for a long moment before looking back up into his eyes.
"Feel that?" She asked.
"Yes."
"Guess what it is."
"Your hand . . ."
" . . . over your heart. What does it mean?"
"I don't know." He answered truthfully, whispering the
words, though there was no reason to. He looked into her eyes as well, and
swallowed.
"What does it mean?" He asked, wanting an answer now that she
had brought it up. Hell, he didn't even understand the question.
Maybe she had some idea.
She hesitated and a small smile appeared on her face. "I
don't know." It was the truth. And now that he had asked the question of her, she
couldn't recall why she had brought it up at all. Or even, what she
had thought this question meant. She just wanted an answer.
It sounded ridiculous, didn't it? Wanting the answer to a
question that she didn't know. But the desire was strong within her
anyway. She couldn't help it. She woke with its taste in her mouth each
morning, carried it with her to work, and then back home, to lie in
bed and will it to make itself substantial.
And as for him, the oddity that was this question was something he
had never addressed before, but, somehow, suddenly, understood that
he had been asking it of himself for a long time now. But at this
moment it was suddenly real, and plagued him as nothing else had.
He wanted an answer too. Wanted to know the answers to all of his
questions, but if only one- this one. He wanted to know what this
meant. What was this spark, this electricity, this warmth, that he
felt where her hand touched his shirt? He couldn't tell. But was
willing to find out.
At long last- after so long- he felt almost brave enough to find out
just what was implied every time she spoke his name, every time she
walked into his office to greet him, or argued with him over
politics. He almost felt daring enough to try to find an answer- to
test the waters by simply jumping in and hoping he didn't drown.
And she felt almost brave enough as well. Almost.
Scared, and feeling her earlier courage fade away, she tried not to
care that the answer might not be what she wanted. She needed to know
anyway. She needed to finish what she had started by asking the
question aloud in the first place. 'What does it mean?' What did it
mean when he said her name, or watched her from his office, or teased
her about what she had to say.
He took the initiative and began to lean his head forward. And she
followed suit, each feeling the tension rise with every millimeter
that they grew closer. Coming together, they couldn't stop.
Somewhere, deep inside, a decision had been made, one that sent their
realities spinning off into the darkened hallways of the building at
this late hour.
The answer they searched for lay at the end of this slow progression
towards each other.
As they each made their way closer to the other, it was, almost, no
longer about the question. They almost found themselves not caring
what the answer turned out to be- they just wanted this, and knew,
somewhere inside them, that they had always wanted this.
The answer, however, still pulled at their thoughts, and they could
not resist it. Whatever it turned out to be, they would reach it. It
lingered ahead of them as they closed the space between them and felt
the breath of the other mix with their own; let their lips almost
touch and then . . .
"Josh?"
"Yeah?" He turned towards his desk, as though that had been his
original intention, moving to stand behind it, while Donna bent down
and picked up a file, also looking as though this was her planned
course of action.
"Leo wants us in his office. Now."
"Is this about the press release this morning?" It was amazing how
well he was able to keep it all business, to still portray his
passion for politics when so much else was on his mind. He looked
across the room at his friend.
"What else would it be about? Toby says he has an idea." Sam spoke
with energy, though he was usually in bed at that hour. The man had a
passion for this sort of thing as strong as Josh's, and it was
evident on his face.
"Okay, I'm coming." Sam nodded and backed out of the room.
Josh stared straight ahead for awhile in thought, then turned his
head to glance at Donna. She tried for a smile, but failed.
They looked at each other.
"I'm gonna go." He said, his voice sounding surreal in the quiet
office.
Or perhaps it was the tension that made him sound that way.
"All right." She tried to sound normal.
He smiled nervously at her, and she managed to smile back. "Go home.
Get some rest." She nodded.
"I'll call you in the morning."
"Right." It was better that they didn't talk about what had almost
just happened. It would be best if they just forgot about it. Went
back to normal. Kept that forbidden question hidden away like they
had been doing for so long.
They both began walking towards the door, Donna reaching it first and
exiting. But Josh paused, and looked thoughtful before he could
leave.
She turned and stared at him curiously. "What?"
He looked startled by her voice. He shook his head and smiled again.
"Nothing."
They continued walking in opposite directions, Donna to her desk and
then home, Josh to Leo's office.
"I'll call you." She called across the empty bullpen, needing to say
it again.
"Right." Josh called back. He was amazed at how normal they sounded.
How 'every-day'.
He looked down at his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets as he
walked. His exhaustion was suddenly catching up to him. Where had it
been a few minutes ago? How was it that it had disappeared at . . .
at her touch?
He halted his walking with a suddenness that seemed to send ripples
throughout the night air. He turned, casually, around and looked up
at the back of Donna's head as she stood over her desk.
"Donna." He said her name aloud and loved the way it rolled off his
tongue just as she loved the way it sounded in her ears.
"Yeah?" She turned and looked up at him from across the large room.
He just stood there looking at her for a moment, a smile spreading
across his face. She couldn't help smiling a bit as well, as though
embarrassed.
"I'll see you in the morning." He said, like it was some kind of
promise, or compliment, or whispered confession of love.
Her smile grew, and her cheeks reddened just enough for him to
notice.
"Good night."
He stared at her for a moment longer. And then spoke softly, "good
night," such that she couldn't hear it, but somehow knew that he had
said it.
He turned and walked away. Thinking. The question lingering in his
mind.
What did it mean?
fin