The White House
9:25 a.m.
January 19

     Josh slid his security card in and typed his code, to signify his entrance to the building. He gave a brisk nod to Mike, the uniformed Secret Service officer at the desk, before turning towards his office. As Josh made his way down the hallway, he took stock of his surroundings. The Christmas decorations were long gone – not even a sprig of holly was left.  Everything was back to normal.

     Or so it seemed.

     Josh could feel that something was different. He had been gone for weeks, representing the White House, but more so the Democratic National Committee. Was it a possible interview? A trial before the President asks for his official resignation?  There were other offers on the table that were not so nebulous.  Concrete offers with expiration dates that were drawing near.

     Josh rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He nodded to several of the staff members, receiving no reply. Ed and Larry were busy shuffling between the Mural Room and the Communications Bullpen. They were organizing the last minute details of the Inauguration, Josh assumed. He remembered being involved in the process the first time. There was an adrenaline rush that took weeks to subside.

     Josh entered the Operations Bullpen and paused. His eyes drifted to Donna’s desk; how quiet and… empty it was.  He inhaled deeply before entering his own office and the disaster that awaited him.

     When he entered, he shook his head. He stepped outside to see if someone else had claimed the territory and given it order in his absence.  However, there was no name on the door and nothing to signal he had been thrown out.  He stepped inside again.  The only thing he recognized were the pictures on the wall—his pictures.  He shook his head.  His office was clean. The hundreds of faces that once adorned his wall were gone; any envelopes addressed to him were stacked neatly in two piles on the corner of his desk.

     God bless Margaret, he thought as he sat behind his desk. He began rifling through the stack of messages. Finding a message from Senator Carey at the bottom of the pile, he turned his chair around to place the call. He caught a bright blue Post-It note on his monitor.
 

Staff Meeting.
January 19,  9 a.m.
Agenda in yellow folder
-Margaret

     Josh looked at his watch and added fifteen minutes.

     “Damn it,” he huffed as he snatched the folder. He quickly made his way to the Oval Office.

    "I don't think so, Mr. Come-Lately-to-Staff-Meetings," Debbie said, wagging her finger at Josh as she approached the door leading to her office area.

    "Debbie, I haven't been to a meeting in weeks--literally," Josh pleaded.  "I rushed here right from the airport.  I haven't eaten since noon yesterday; the last time I slept was the day before so really, now is not the time to....."

    "Why?" she interrupted promptly.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "Why are you running on a campaign schedule still?" she asked.  "We won weeks ago, remember?  We eat and sleep regularly in this White House now."

    "Guess I missed the memo," he said.

    "Well, that's still not getting you into this meeting," she vowed.

    "Debbie, damn it," Josh growled.

    "Watch it, Mister," she warned.  "This hen is in roost here.  You're the one who's been gone.  Everyone else is playing by the rules."

    "They're stupid rules," Josh said.  "I know your reason, but they're stupid all the same."

    "The rapier wit of the Ivy League aside, you're still not going in there," she shook her head as she patted his arm then walked by.

    "It was the weather," he sighed.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "The reason for my last 48 hours being what they were," Josh explained dejectedly.  "There is a rather sizable storm said to be heading toward Washington.  If I wanted to get back here before it hit, then I had to leave yesterday--and it still made me late for today, and that is because I had to go to Nevada from Texas in order to get to Chicago so that I could get here."

    "You had to fly west from the south to go east?" she summarized.

    "I haven't drawn a map, but that sounds about right," he answered.

    "Josh, I feel for you," Debbie said.  "I really do, but I've put my foot down and the President is backing me."

    "Figures," Josh mumbled.

    "What was that?" she asked.

    "Nothing, just acknowledging my luck," Josh said then shook his head.

    He walked away, not sure what affect his absence from the meeting would have on his standing in the administration.  Leo had been curiously silent on the subject of Josh's position in regards to the President.  Josh hadn't felt compelled to ask.  Why invite bad news, he thought.

    With heavy thoughts and a useless agenda, Josh wandered down the hall.  He read over the agenda, trying to discern if there was anything he desperately needed to know on it.  As he read, someone passed by him muttering anxiously in a foreign but familiar tongue.  Unconsciously, Josh responded.

    "Oh my God!" Annie Weston exclaimed as she whirled around to face him.  "What did you just say?"

    Josh cautiously eyed the President's 15-year-old granddaughter and ran his response over in his head again.

    "I think I said, 'Someone didn't do her homework'," Josh replied.  "At least, that's what I meant to say."

    "No," she beamed.  "It is!  That's what you said.  At least, that's what I thought you said and since you said you said it then it must be what you said."

    "Okay, you gotta stop that," Josh shook his head.  "You're making me dizzy."

    "I'm Annie," she said in an agitated way.

    "Yeah," Josh nodded.  "We've met a couple times, Annie.  I'm Josh L-..."

    "Mr. Lyman," she pleaded, cutting him off in mid-introduction.  "You have to help me."

                                        *****************
Oval Office
Senior Staff Meeting
9:26 a.m.

    CJ nervously read the note left for her from Steve Martouche, the Reuter's correspondent, as Toby continued to emphasize to the President the importance of not ad libbing any section of the next day's address.  The note was vague and that worried her.  It mentioned Josh as well, and that made the knot in her stomach cinch even tighter.  He had been distant in the past few weeks.  She had not spoken with him directly more than three or four times during his extended tour of the country.  Rumors of his future plans abounded.  The latest, and the most outrageous, said he was offered a consulting position for a block of moderate Republican senators who felt their party wasn't listening to them and that the Democrats were taking their support for granted.

    Josh working for Republicans.  It made her chuckle initially.  For him it would be like being thrust into one of Dante's rings of Hell.  Well, they’re moderate Republicans, she reasoned, maybe it's more like Purgatory.  Still, even that bit of humor didn't take the worry out of Martouche's note.

    "CJ?" the President said, and from his tone she knew it was not the first time he had called to her.

    "Sir?"

    "See, Toby, this is why I go my own way with speeches from time to time," Bartlet said.  "I find when people get that glazed over look that they really don't absorb what I'm saying."

    "Makes it harder to criticize," Sam offered.

    "Since when has that stopped anyone," Toby grumbled.

    "Indeed," Bartlet nodded.  "CJ, will you be taking part in the meeting or does it suit you to sit there looking aloof like an extra in a Felini film?"

    "Sorry, Mr. President," she apologized.  "I was... I wasn't listening."

    "Leo, can we do something about the level of honesty in this room," Bartlet said in good humor.  "I don't mind hearing the truth, but there are times when the staff should spare my feelings."

    "Yeah," Leo said non-committally.

    The President then asked his question again.  CJ thrust the dread from her mind and reminded herself not to ask the question so present in her mind: Where was Josh?

    She had a memo in her office--one Toby told her to draft.  In it was her proposal for how to present to the Press that Josh
Lyman had resigned and how best to control that story.  The shock of being asked to draft it was hard enough; that she had
been asked to write it just three days after the Congressional vote to decide the election stunned her beyond discussion.  As such, she had not broached the subject with Toby again since his initial request.  She had written the memo and outlined her ideas.  There were two scenarios she forecasted.  First, all was well and it was an amicable parting.  Second, the administration needed to get in front of a time bomb; Josh knew much and could hurt them if he chose.

    She doubted the second was possible, though even contemplating the first so soon into their next tenure was unfathomable.
But now there was Martouche's note.  She wondered if it was a strategic thing set up by someone else in the administration or perhaps the DNC to make the transition believable or easier.  Or was it just one of those odd coincidences that no one believes in but that are just serendipity in DC?

    "Claudia Jean," Bartlet said in a scolding tone as he caught her drifting again.  "Do I need to make you stay after class?"

    "Sir," she started then paused as she looked at Sam and Toby.  "I... I'm sorry.  I need to have a moment alone with Leo."

    "Now?" Bartlet asked.  "What is it?"

    "Well, oddly enough it’s about the Constitution," she said.

                                        *****************

Communication's Bullpen
9:40 a.m.

    Annie sat at an empty desk in the far corner of the room.  Josh sat beside her with his feet balancing on an empty trash can as he read that morning's addition of the New York Times.  He had agreed to assist the young woman with her German homework for a lack of anything better or more pressing to do.  Annie, who was nearly as angry as she was embarrassed by the solid C she was pulling in the language class, worked on her grammar; she had a two page assignment she was being permitted to complete and fax to her teacher.  If she didn't finish the work, her parents would not allowed her to go to the Inauguration.  And worse, her mother and her grandfather would be disappointed.  Josh noted it was an equal worry regarding both authority figures.

    "Why are in this room again?" Annie asked, letting herself become distracted again.  Josh noted this was something she did rather easily.

    "'Cause this is the Communication's Bullpen," Josh said mildly as he read the OpEd piece about the recently resolved port workers strikes on the west coast.  The administration was being slammed by the paper despite both sides in the dispute being grateful for the intervention.

    "Right, but don't you have an office?" Annie asked curiously.

    "Yeah," Josh said.  "But people would find me in there.  They won't think to look here."

    "So we're hiding?"

    "No," Josh corrected her.  "You're wasting time, and I'm passing German for you."

    "You haven't helped me since question number three," she pointed out.

    "And what number are you on now?"

    "Do you have kids?"

    "No," he scoffed.  "Why?"

    "Cause you talk like you do," Annie replied.  "That or like my teachers."

    "Great minds," Josh remarked.  "What number?"

    "Seven," she said curtly.  "How long did you study German?"

    "Long enough to get into college," he said.

    "I want to go to Brown University," Annie proclaimed.

    "Why?"

    "My father went there," she said quickly.

    "Your father went to Dartmouth," Josh corrected her.

    "Do you know everything about my family?"

    "No," Josh said.  "What's his name?"

    "Who?" she asked.  "My father?"

    "No," Josh replied with a smirk.  "The guy you have a thing for who goes to Brown."

    "I like a school that is named after an earthy color," she said ineffectively.

    "His name?"

    "I'm not following him," Annie argued.

    "You're stalking him," Josh countered.

    "I'm doing question seven now," she said and looked back at her notebook.

    "Is he an idiot?" Josh asked.

    "He goes to Brown," she answered swiftly then looked at him.

    Her face was red and she knew she'd slipped.  She chewed her lip.

    "He goes to Brown right now, and you think he's still going to be there in four years when you start college?" Josh asked.

    "I plan to graduate high school a year early," she said.

    "Not if you flunk German you won't," Josh pointed out.  "But if you do graduate a year early, you should go to a better school than Brown."

    "My uncle did graduate from Brown," she informed him truthfully.

    "Then I should tell your father to have his brother call the Alumni Association and check out your boyfriend," Josh said.

    "You wouldn't!" Annie shouted.

    Josh grinned mischievously.  The poor girl didn't know what to do.

    "How's number seven going?" he asked innocently.

    "Josh!"

    "Hey, what happened to Mr. Lyman?" he asked.

    "Don't," she begged him.  "Please!  Don't you tell them!"

    "Yell a little louder and I won't have to," he told her.

    "Oh," Annie relented and sneered at him briefly.  "So this is why you never have a girlfriend."

    "I'm sorry?"

    "You're just like the guys I go to high school with," Annie surmised.  "No one stays with any of them long either."

    "I get paid better than they do," Josh ventured.  "I probably also have my face on magazine articles more often than they do.
I also know important people so if I was you...."

    "That's why you can't go into my grandfather's office right now?" Annie asked deviously.  "Because you know so many important people?"

    "I thought you were supposed to call him the President when you're not around your family," Josh remarked.

    "He's my grandfather and I'll call him that if I like," she said defiantly.  "So why is an important guy like you out here doing homework with me rather than in there doing.... whatever it is that you do."

    "They do just fine without me," Josh said.

    The truth of the statement didn't take away its pain any for Josh; in fact, it made it feel worse.

    "Seriously?" she asked.  Her teenage tantrum had abated.  She seemed curious and mildly concerned.

    "After everything you've shared in the last two minutes, would I lie to you?" Josh asked flippantly.

    "A politician can lie to anyone," she said cagily.

    "But not always successfully," he said.

    "Does my grandfather do it?" she asked.  "You know, lie?  I mean, it's part of what he does, right?  Sometimes, he can't tell the truth for.... reasons like security or whatever, right?"

    "Annie, the President is an honest and righteous man," Josh said, slipping back into his job as administrative spin doctor.  "If you have questions like that, I think they're best addressed to your mother or your family in private."

    "Well, you're like family to the President," she said.

    "I'm not," Josh shook his head.  "I work for him."

    "Right, but you're like family to him kind of," Annie surmised.  "I've heard him talk to you and talk about you to my mom and my grandmother when he talks about stuff you all do here.  He talks about you and about Mr. Ziegler and...."

    "Things change," Josh said evenly, hoping to change the subject.

    "What does that mean?"

    "It means what it means, Annie," Josh said.  "This isn't like some club where we're all friends and everyone likes everyone else.  We're not a little happy gang.  This is politics and....  We work here on serious subjects and the magnitude of those subjects results in a variety of divergent opinions and approaches.  The one thing everyone can agree on is that we don't all like each other.  The goal is to try to respect one another so that we can get things done.  So, it's work, okay?  This is a job; its not an easy job."

    "You don't like it?" she asked.

    "No, I don't like it," he answered.  "I love it, but....  It's a job.  It's not my family--no one here is family."

    "You and Sam Seaborn are good...."

    "That's different," Josh cut in.  "Sam and I were good friends long before we came to work here."

    "What about my grandfather," she asked.

    "He's the President," Josh said simply.  "He's the leader of this nation, and he is my boss."

    She looked at him through opened eyes.  She was at the age when fairy tales are shattered and replaced by reality without any notice.  Heroes were torn down to reveal nothing more than a regular man or woman with the same frailties and faults of everyone else.

    "I was watching something on CNN," she said carefully.  "One of the guys said something about you not being.... that you're at odds with the President and that you might not be working here much longer."

    "Annie..."

    "Josh," she asked with great apprehension, "are you going to get fired because you missed that meeting?"

    Josh surveyed the guilt-ridden expression on her face and heard the worried tones in her voice.  He couldn't stop himself from laughing.

    "No," he laughed for the first time in weeks.  "Trust me, Annie.  I promise you if I separate from my job it won't be because I helped you do your homework but thank you."

    "For what?" she asked perplexed.

    "For nothing," he said, reining in his chuckles.  "I needed that.  You know, this business is pretty asinine.  I...  I need to be reminded of that once in a while.  Donna used to, but she's... Never mind.  Thank you, Annie."

    "What will you do if you... don't do this?" she asked, still worried.

    "I'm thinking of resigning this afternoon and becoming a German tutor."

    "Josh, if things aren't so good, I mean," she hemmed.  "How long will you stay?"

    "As long as I'm needed," he answered returning to his reading.

    "But how long is that?" she asked.  "Who decides when it's time for... a change?"

    "I'm like everyone else here," he said, trying to dismiss the subject.

    "And that means?"

    "I serve at the pleasure of the President," he said finally.

                                        *****************

Leo McGarry's Office
11:13 a.m.

    "He did what?" Leo asked CJ for the third time.

    "He may have advocated... you know..," CJ said with a helpless gesture with her hands.

    "Advocated the over throw of the government?"

    "Amending the Constitution," she said shaking her head.  "Something about elections and who really has the right to hold an office, I guess.  I don't know for certain and if I start asking about it then..."

    "Then it shows that we're asking about it so it's thing," Leo seethed.  "Is he nuts?"

    "You know Josh better than I do," CJ shrugged.

    "The President hasn’t even been sworn in again and he's picking a fight that'll launch a pitched battle that will result in the majority of Congress--Democrat and Republican alike--standing against us and probably half of the American public," Leo growled.  "This is..."

    "Typical?" CJ ventured.

    This was their second meeting of the day after the staff meeting.  She had given the Chief of Staff the brief information she knew from Martouche.  On it's face, it was innocuous.  Everyone would like the law of the land to be a little different.  But
Martouche was tracking down another story.  His was digging into the recent congressional vote.  He was hearing rumblings that the administration’s newly crowned prince of negotiation was advocating a constitutional alteration.  What it was precisely, no one would say.  However, right-leaning media outlets were going to print and broadcast that one of the President's men didn't believe in the means it took to win the recent contest.

    "I don't know what he said or to whom," CJ told Leo.  "Josh didn't do any public speaking engagements while he was gone other than that thing at Harvard so..."

    "I thought he canceled to go to the funeral," Leo remarked.

    "He canceled at the beginning of January," CJ said.  "He rescheduled and spoke there last week.  You didn't know?"

    "I wasn't invited," Leo brushed it off.

    "Leo, I'm asking you," CJ said emphatically.  "The details aside right now, I was wondering if maybe....  Is this something that was set up so we can... so he can...  Are we getting rid of Josh?"

    Leo looked at her with a stony expression and sighed.  There had been instances where he had stood toe-to-toe with the end of Josh's career in the White House; at all those times, Leo never blinked.  He knew it was where Josh belonged because it was where his heart was.  Now?  Leo wasn't so sure.  Josh had not spoken with the President in nearly a month's time.  He kept in regular touch with Leo and never once was there a request to speak to the President directly.  Not that there was need.  Josh wasn't doing anything that required briefing the President personally.  This was the post-election wrap-up, pre-term warm up.  It was a vacation assignment for job well done.  He was there as much on the part of the administration as he was at the behest of the DNC.  The security log and a discussion with Debbie Fidderer confirmed that he had returned to the White House that morning, but he was not physically present in the building at that moment.  According to Janice Sharp, an assistant in the Operations bullpen, he was currently taking a meeting with Senator Ron Chaffee.

    "I haven't signed any adoption papers if that's what you're asking," Leo said, sidestepping a direct answer for CJ.

    "He's meeting with Chaffee," she said.  "Chaffee is the spokesman for the Mod Squad."

    The Mod Squad was the aptly named block of half a dozen moderate Republican senators.

    "Yeah and he's the one who we talk to when we want to show that we have friends on both sides of the aisle," Leo informed her.

    "What are we talking to him about today?" CJ asked.

    "We're scalping tickets to the DNC ball tomorrow night," Leo said hastily.  "Look, CJ.  I've got these folders here on my desk because I have real problems to contend with: a couple dozen nut-jobs traipsing around the globe plotting to end civilization as we know it, a federal budget no one wants to pass (including me) and there's this little thing called the economy that I like to take a look at for laughs once in a while.  So, you can see why I might not be all that interested in Josh showing his vacation snap shots to his old friend Ron Chaffee right now."

    "Yeah," she nodded and stepped back from her interrogation.  She started to leave the room.  "Only, they're not old friends."

    "They play golf," Leo said.

    "Only when one of them wants something," CJ replied then left.

                                        *****************
January 20, 9 p.m.
D.C. Convention Center
The Inaugural Ball

    The forecasted snow had held off throughout the cold afternoon.  The skies were almost painfully bright and the President’s frozen breath curled from his lips and his message to the people carried over the chilled air.  The President delivered an address that would make even the staunchest Bartlet hater get chills, and not from the bitter cold.  C-SPAN caught many moments from the address. Sam and Toby were mouthing the words of the speech along with the President; CJ was wearing a smile as bright as the sun and Leo’s face was stoic, but his eyes were bright.

    After the parade and numerous new reports, the social formalities began.  The President made various stops at several balls given in honor of the occasion before arriving at the big one at the convention center.   Instead of the traditional red, white and blue bunting and balloons that adorned the walls of the other parties, the convention center was adorned with elegant silver wall sconces, each holding a small candelabra; the dozen chandeliers elegantly lit the guest with a warm glow; the drapes were a shimmering gold, pulled back to show the first snowfall of the year.

    “I have never seen anything more beautiful,” Anna Lyman replied as she looked around the room.

    “I prefer to think of myself as devastatingly handsome,” Josh noted as he escorted his mother inside.  “Beautiful is kind of girlie.”

    “Joshua,” Anna chided him lightly with a pat on his arm before placing a kiss on his cheek.  “I meant the ball room and you very well know it.”

    “So you don’t think I’m handsome,” he teased.  “My tie is even straight.”

     “No thanks to your assistance,” Anna shook her head.  “Oh, I recall having to get you dressed for many occasions when you were a child.  I used to be a blond, you know.  Then…”

     “You can’t blame me for you gray hair,” Josh countered then stopped.  The look on her face silenced him.

    “Gray, darling?”

    “Did I say gray?” he said quickly.

    “You did.”

     “Well, what I obviously meant was….”

     “Platinum, darling,” she corrected him.

     “I liked it better when you took these things out on Dad,” he mumbled and shook his head.

     “I have more hope of training you properly,” she said, clearing hearing his aside.  “I see I still have years of work ahead of me.  I will say this, you do look quite sharp this evening, Joshua.  Then again, every other time I see you, you look like you’ve just fought ten rounds and lost so it’s not precisely a….”

      “Hey, I gave you a special tour of the White House today,” he cut her off.  He had given his mother her first full and official tour of the White House that afternoon while the building was generally vacant during the speech.  He reasoned he had been gone for so long that another few hours wouldn’t matter.  Besides, the speech was Toby and Sam’s stage.  “I could’ve turned you into a Popsicle by taking you to the Inaugural Address.”

      “Yes, Darling,” Anna patted his arm. “Someone’s heading our way.  Friend or foe?”

      Josh turned to see the person his mother was speaking of.  He was a short and stocky man with thinning red hair.  He wore a pleasant grin and had a purposeful bounce to his stride.

     “Josh!” Chaffee said offering his hearty handshake and brilliant smile.

    "Senator Chaffee," Josh said making the introduction.  "This is my mother, Anna Lyman.  Mom, Senator Ronald Chaffee."

    "Of the Mod Squad," Anna said brightly, offering her hand.  Chaffee grinned instantly.  "They call you the lesser of most evils in the editorial column of my newspaper."

    "I see your son's political poise is genetic," Chaffee chuckled.  "I was wondering if I might bend his ear for a moment.
Pardon the intrusion."

    "That's quite all right," Anna said.  "Joshua darling, while you're busy I'm going to step outside and call Angela to confirm the time of the train tomorrow."

    Josh nodded and she departed.

    "She's going back home by train?" Chaffee remarked.  "Connecticut is it?"

    "Florida, unfortunately," Josh said ruefully.  "But she's not going by train.  She's going to Baltimore in the morning by train to visit her cousin.  What can I do for you, Senator?"

    "Giving me an answer would be nice," Chaffee said.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "They should be saying that to you, but they won't," Chaffee said as he nodded toward the front of the room where the Leo was greeting legislators and waiting for the President to rejoin the gathering.  "Take Chase and me up on our offer.  Hang out your shingle as a private consultant.  You align with us and both sides will need you.  Think of the position that puts you in.  More power than you've got now."

    "I'm not into power," Josh said.

    "Right and I'm not into politics," Chaffee scoffed.  "Walk away--hell storm away and recoup your dignity.  After what you did for these folks and they treat you like this?  You're not an errand boy, but what did do?  They sent you across the nation to do the last few weeks like an intern.  It was a good will tour from a man who wishes you ill will.  Now, I know you aren't going to respond to that."

    "No, Senator, I’m not," Josh said firmly.  "I really think this is not the appropriate..."

    "Well, I do," Chaffee cut him off.  "You left Hoyne's staff with less provocation, Josh.  I respect the Presidency..."

    "But not the President?"

    "Let me finish," Chaffee chastised him.  "I respect the office.  I don't approve everything the President has done while in office, but politics aside, I believe he is essentially a good man.  Misguided at times and elitist in most instances; however, I don't know him well enough to figure out why you've been put in the position you're in today.  Nor, for that matter, do I care.  What I do know is that you've been reclassified as a pawn--something that can be cast aside with little damage.  That's a miscalculation.  The President may be a hell of a chess player, but he doesn't recognize your value.  I do."

                                           *****************
10 p.m.

    CJ weaved her way through the crowd. She was on a mission and was determined to find her target. She knew he was at the party; the problem was trying to locate him in this sea of – for the moment – bi-partisan guests. CJ wanted to talk to him first thing, but she was delayed at the New Hampshire ball room by a local reporter wanting details on a miniscule point made by the President during his address. Her eyes darted around the room and locked on Josh. She briskly walked toward him.

    "Dance with me, Fred," CJ said, gripping Josh firmly by the elbow to let him know that refusal would be unsuccessful.

    "I heard you were looking for me," Josh said mildly as she tugged him to the dance floor.

    "Really," she replied.  "Was that from the six pages and three calls I put in to you this afternoon or did you hear a rumor?  I'm not sure if you noticed, but the President gave a little speech today.  It was the Inaugural address."

    "Yeah, I heard it on TV," Josh said.  "They said it was cold.  Was it?"

    "It was 22 degrees with a slight eastern wind," CJ informed him tersely.  "You were at the office?”

     “Yeah, my mother never got the real full tour before,” Josh said.  “I figured with the place half empty she would enjoy it more.  Plus, it was cold so…”

     “Did you do any packing?” she asked bluntly.

    "I was giving my mother a tour," Josh said.  "All those little details and stories that they never have time for on the public tour.  It's always so hectic there, but I figured today it would be less frantic while you were all out doing your thing."

    "Getting sworn in again?"

    "Yeah," Josh said.  "Did you need me for anything?"

    "Well, knowing where you were would have been nice," CJ said.  “And you didn’t answer my question.”

    "Leo knew where I was," Josh said.  "What do you want?

    "First, at least pretend you want to dance," CJ said forcefully placing her hand on his shoulder and shuffling her feet.

    Josh followed in kind, eventually wrestling control from her so he could at least lead in the physical part of this encounter.
The look in her eyes told him regardless of his answer, she was the one in charge of the conversation.

    "So you've been busy," she began.  "Traveling across the country, fielding job offers, rewriting the Constitution.”

    "I got the traveling bit, but the rest...."

    "Josh, the new guy with Reuter's says you want to change election laws," CJ said.  "Was there some proposal you, I don't know, insanely advocated without thinking?  Did you perhaps imply that the recent election wasn't the way that things should be decided?"

    "No," Josh shook his head.

    "That's all you have to say?"

    "Okay, no and will you stop trying to lead," he scoffed.  "I know you have this aggressive thing but...."

    "The Eleventh Amendment," she said.  "I'm hearing it came up perhaps when you were at Harvard.  That clear things up any?"

    Josh thought for a moment.  He had said a lot, to a lot of people, during his stint out of Washington.  Recalling all of it was not a simple matter.  But there was something in her words that was stridently familiar.  He combed through the topics of his lecture at the JFK School of government but nothing matched her accusations.  Then again, he thought, Harvard had that effect on him.  There were so many memories from his association with the institution that he....

    "Ha!" he laughed suddenly.

    "What is that?"

    "That was me laughing, briefly," Josh chuckled as he shook his head.

    "So this is a joke?" CJ asked hopefully.  The thoughts of the memo locked in the top drawer of her desk were strong in her mind.

    "No, I was serious," Josh said.  "When I said.... Actually, I didn't say anything.  I wrote it.”

     “Wrote what?”

    “A suggestion,” he said.  “I proposed rewriting the Constitution."

    "You wrote it?" CJ asked, her heart sinking.  "What?  Where?  E-mail or..."

    "No, it was a position paper," Josh recalled fondly.  "I stand by it, too."

    "Josh," CJ stopped dead on the dance floor.  Her expression was dire and enraged.

    "It was the guy with Reuters?" Josh asked.

    "Yeah, Martouche is his name," CJ said.  "He's only been around about six months."

    "Do you trust him?"

    "No," she said instantly.  She didn't trust any reporter completely.

    "Good," Josh said.  "Let me go do a thing here.  You go... drink.  You look like you need it."

    Josh walked away from her, scanning the crowd for the face he needed: Danny Concannon.  Josh located him near the doors to the terrace.  He was in the middle of a cluster of fellow scribblers discussing why he wasn't writing a book about his coverage of the tribal wars in two African countries with Josh arrived.

    "Danny," Josh interrupted.  "Walk with me."

    "Sure," he nodded, grabbing a flute of champagne from a tray held by a passing server.  "There's this rumor going around that you've lost your mind and you think you're Thomas Jefferson."

    "The Constitution was primarily written by James Madison," Josh corrected him.

    "I thought that was Francis Bacon," Danny offered.

    "You're thinking of William Shakespeare," Josh continued.

    "You mean Christopher Marlowe," Danny added.

    "Right," Josh said, ending the tangent.  "The Reuters guy is right, but he hasn't spoken to me."

    "He's waiting for you to get fired," Danny said frankly.  "Then he's going to run with his take.  I said you're more apt to resign.  You are, right?  We’ve got a betting pool and I picked resignation as of tomorrow morning."

    "How much?"

    "It's over $650 right now," Danny said.  "I take it you want to talk to me about something."

    "Yeah, let's talk about the Constitution," Josh began.  "But it's not an exclusive; you think I can tear a few of you away from the bar for a few minutes?  If so, you can start things off."

    Danny looked at him squarely.

    They don't know what they're losing, the reporter thought.  Leo's crazy to let you go over a personality clash with the President, and you're twice as nuts for helping him do it.  This kind of loyalty is supposed to be extinct in this town.
 
 

    Josh completed his informal, yet on the record, discussion with the three reporters who followed Danny out onto the terrace for the impromptu interview.  The story was going to do precisely what Josh predicted it would.  He considered telling CJ, but there was something fun in a juvenile way about letting her stew over it from the rest of the night.  Besides, as a favor to Danny, he promised he would not speak with CJ on the subject the rest of the evening.  It would give Danny a chance to maneuver her to the dance floor for some fun of his own.

    Josh’s efforts to fly under her radar were short lived.  He deposited his mother in a cab to take her back to her hotel not long after returning from his interview.  She wanted to turn in early; Josh was to have breakfast with her at 8:30 the next morning before her train.  After making these plans and seeing his mother off, Josh entered the grand ball room to see CJ make the sea of guests part before her.

    He was left with limited options.  To his left were reporters catching on that they had missed something by ignoring Danny's hint to step outside previously.  In front of him, CJ.  Behind him, the frigid night.  The only course left was to head to the right--something he didn't do naturally.  However, upon doing so, he encountered someone who he was not surprised to find there.

    "Ainsley," Josh said, placing his hand on her shoulder.  "You owe me a dance."

    "I do?"

    "Yeah," Josh said.  "For the hearing last year when you threatened to hit me."

    "Okay," she said simply, not recalling any promises of a dance or anything else, though she did recall the threat of physical violence.

    She joined him on the dance floor, noting that they were surrounded by a thick wall of people.  She could see from the way his eyes dissected the crowd he was searching for someone, yet his expression said he'd rather not find that person.

    "So we're hiding?" Ainsley gathered.

    "No, this is called dancing," Josh corrected her then squinted hard as a photographer's flash blinded him briefly.

    "Oh, my father will love that one," Ainsley said.  "What do you think they'll caption it: Democrat's Dragon Slayer waltzes with Republican Mole?"

    "Your father would say that?"

    "No, he'd hope I didn't fall prey to your Democrat charm," she replied, her tone indicating that charm from a Democrat was akin to imbibing poison in her father's eyes.

    "Well, just give him my mother's explanation," Josh said.  "I take after my father so I have a weakness for blonds."

    "Just some, though," she replied.  "Or, should I say one.  And by that I mean, that is, the individual you, or in this case your mother, refers to in the paraphrasing of the statement to which you allude."

    "How did you make it through law school speaking like that," Josh asked mystified.

    "I was a highly regarded student at Harvard," she retorted.

    "So was I," he countered.

    "That just leaves me with a lot of questions," she replied with a sigh.  "So, you did mean Donna?"

    "I'm sorry?"

    "The blond you prefer," Ainsley explained.

    "I...," Josh stammered.  "I was just... That is, my mother thinks... Really, it was a joke between her and my father and me...."

    "I only say that because she is your assistant and you are quite close," Ainsley continued, grinning.  "Closer than I would recommend for most employer/employee relationships."

    "My assistant and I are both....," Josh began.

    "I said most," Ainsley cut him off.  "It's none of my concern, really.  I was just... Well, considering the rather volatile nature of your relationship with others in the office at this time, I was just going to point out that the appearance might be more dangerous than any alleged impropriety.  Fuel for a raging fire."

    "You're concern, while mildly suspicious and deeply disturbing, is unneeded all the same," Josh said not offended.  "Thanks, though."

    "You're very welcome," she responded.  "And you're quite good, by the way."

    "That's why I'm Leo's deputy," he answered.

    "No, I meant the dancing," Ainsley corrected him.  "Most men tend to be klutzy or awkward or simply don't know what they're doing."

    "Yeah mean dancing, not in general, right?"

    "For now, I'll stick with the just dancing," she nodded.

    "Good thinking, but for the record, I'm also pretty good as Leo's deputy," he said, not sure why he was finally pleading his case (and in such a casual manner) to the sole Republican on staff.

    "I've heard," she replied.  "You don't want to leave it."

    "Nice weather we're having," he said inanely rather than respond to her observation.

    "So you were just hiding in general from this subject or anyone who might ask you about it," Ainsley discerned as she nodded.  "So that's why I'm the blond you took out here."

    "Just grabbed one off the shelf," Josh said.

    "So long as Donna understands I'm only her stunt double while you practice real answers in your head," Ainsley offered.

    "Why do you keep talking about Donna?" Josh asked.

    "I don't," Ainsley argued.  "I mentioned her twice."

    "It was more than twice," Josh contended.

    "It wasn't," Ainsley assured him.  "And the only reason I mentioned her the second time is because I thought she was trying to get your attention and you were ignoring her for a good reason.  But if you're just having a thick or slow moment, I think she'll understand that, too.  After all, you two are close."

    "What are you talking about?"

    "Thick and slow moments?" Ainsley repeated.  "That's what my grandmother used to call it when we would..."

    "No, about Donna trying to get my attention," Josh interrupted.  "She's not even here."

    "She was talking to Mike Stein over there to the left a minute ago," Ainsley informed him.

    Josh whirled around quickly, searching for her, but coming up empty.  Ainsley shook her head and took him by the wrist.
She led him through the tangle of couples to the area where she saw Donna last.

    "A word of advice," she said, though she wasn't sure he was listening.  "If you're going to deny something, you should at least pretend that you believe it."

    "How's that?"

    "She's wearing a blue dress and tell her she looks nice when you see her," Ainsley said nudging him forward.  "And just because I helped you doesn't mean I like or trust you."

    "Same here," he nodded then headed off.

    Josh spotted several blonds in the sea of gowns and tuxedos. He eventually found her near one of the corners, speaking to the other Senior Assistants. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as he headed to her location. She was clothed in a beaded sapphire blue gown with thin straps. She shifted slightly, revealing a dangerously high slit on her right side. Her hair was swept up in an elegant chignon and her ears decorated with dainty rhinestone studs. The gown hugged all the right curves on her body and shimmered in the light of the chandeliers.  The color of her gown accentuated her smooth alabaster skin. Josh had never seen her look this stunning.

    “Josh?” Amy asked as she stopped his movement. “My dance card’s getting full. You owe me one.”

    “Not now,” he said briskly, brushing past the brunette.

    Toby wandered past as Amy got her refusal.

    “Wow,” he said handing her his fresh glass of champagne.  “That had to hurt; you might need a few of these.”

    “Yeah.”

     Josh shifted his way through the crowd of well-wishers, stopping every few feet to accept a handshake for a job well done. He finally made his was to the assistants’ corner.

    “Hey Josh,” Ginger smiled. “Nice party, huh?”

    “Uh huh,” Josh said absentmindedly as turned his attention to Donna.

    "Donna, do something with him," Margaret chuckled.  “We’re having girl talk and he’s not.”

    “Not what?” Donna asked, keeping her gaze casual.

    “A girl,” Margaret said.

    “Excellent idea,” Donna smiled.

    “What is?” Margaret asked.

    “Didn’t you say Josh should dance with me?” Donna offered.

    “No,” Margaret said slowly.

    “Yeah, I thought so,” Donna replied as she grabbed Josh by the sleeve and tugged him toward the dance floor.

    “She’s not working tonight Josh so whatever’s on you mind can wait until morning,” Margaret called.

    “Don’t bet on it,” he said under his breath as he followed Donna back through the crowd.

    Donna stopped eventually as they took a place on the dance floor.  The instruments swelled, signaling the start of a new piece. Tony Bennett, the night’s signature performer, crooned the opening the first verse of The Way You Look Tonight.

    “So..,.” Donna began as she placed her hand in his.

    “You're.... uh... I can't believe...” he stammered.

    “Can't believe what, Josh?”

    Josh positioned his hand around her waist and pulled her close. “You... that you're here...  When did you...”

    “This afternoon,” she replied.  “I flew into BWI and my friend Alicia picked me up.”

    Josh looked at her surprised. “Today?”

    “Yes.”

    “You didn't call,” he pointed out.

    “I know,” Donna apologized. “I had a lot to do.”

    He thought for a moment and chose he next words carefully. “I needed to…. That is, I wanted to talk to you about…”

    “Please, not here, not now,” Donna sighed.  “I just want to enjoy this.  Whatever it is, it can wait can’t it?”

    “Yeah, sorry,” he apologized, briefly lowering his head. He then looked into her blue eyes.  They shimmered in the lights of the ballroom. She was looking better since the last time he saw her.

    “How's your mother?” Donna asked, breaking the tension.

    “My mother?” Josh repeated.  “Fine. She was here earlier but left – got to catch an early train to Baltimore tomorrow.”

    “Oh, I wanted to speak with her,” Donna said. “To thank her for the flowers she sent.”

    “She knows you appreciated it,” he smiled. “How's your mom doing?”

    “She's getting better.”

    “It's hard,” he remembered.

    “Yes, it is,” Donna nodded her agreement.  “You look so tired, Josh.”

    “I'm fine,” he reassured her with a grin. “You look really good.”

    Donna blushed. “Thank you.”

    “Did you steal this dress?” He grinned, dimples in full force.

    “Josh,” Donna chided as she swatted his chest. Her attack was met with a dip from Josh on the dance floor, causing her to yelp in surprise.

    “Haven't you read any papers?” Josh smirked as he righted her. “I'm full of surprises, Donna.”

    “Tell me something I didn’t know,” Donna replied, tucking some errant strands that had fallen from her chignon behind her ear.

    Josh’s face turned serious. “Donna... I.... We really should talk about you know...”

    “I know,” she concurred. “Just, not here.”

    He quickly nodded. “Oh, right.  No, not here.  No.”

    “We'll talk all about this later,” Donna said. “Right now, I want to enjoy this night.”

     “You know, you learned these steps from me,” Bartlet stated.

     Liz chuckled. “Mom taught me how to dance.”

     “Elizabeth,” Bartlet glared with a gleam in his eye, “you were dancing on my feet when you were three years old. I think I taught you.”

     “Then how come I had to ask Mom to teach me before my first school dance in seventh grade?” she asked matter-of-factly.

     “You think I was going to teach you how to dance with another boy?”

     “You'd prefer I danced with a girl?”

      Bartlet thought momentarily. “At that point in time, yes.”

      Father and daughter continued to dance Tony’s soft crooning. Liz scanned the faces and smiled at what she thought was a beautiful couple. “I wonder who taught Josh how to dance?”

     “What do you mean?”

     “He’s quite at ease,” Elizabeth observed.  “Then again, maybe it’s the partner who brings out the best in him.  Not that Donna would care if it didn’t, but he's quite smooth from what I see.”

     The President turned around so he could see what his daughter meant.   “If he needs pointers, I’m available.  I’m no Arthur Murray, but he was no Jed Bartlet.”

    “What are you talking about?” Liz asked focusing on her father again.  “I was watching Josh.”

    “Right,” Bartlet sighed.  “Well, he seems to be doing all right without my help.”

     “Oh, I'll say,” she laughed.

     “Don’t take me wrong, he's not as good as your ol' man,” he stated.

     “You missed my point, Dad,” Liz sighed.

     “Which was?”

     She looked at her father with wide eyes and a smirk. “Josh and Donna.”

     “What about them?” Bartlet asked as he continued to dance.

     “What indeed,” she waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, I'll give you this; you're more convincing than Josh is at playing ignorant.  He nearly vaulted over Senator Kennedy once he spotted her.”

     “Well, she's been gone for quite sometime,” Bartlet explained. “Her father recently passed away, and she stayed home to take care of things. I imagine that Josh was happy to see her.”

     “I imagine he’d be happier to see her at his place later,” Liz giggled.

     “I'm sorry?” he asked. “What was that you just said? I couldn't make it out through all that giggling. I'll never understand why women giggle.”

     “To make men worry and to pass secrets effectively,” she patted him on his shoulder. “I was just remarking about Josh and Donna's relationship.”

      Bartlet pursed his lips. “It is one of the weirder working relationship I've ever seen.”

     “Working?” Liz asked. “Oh, I'll say it works.  Good for them, too.  Josh needs someone nice and very patient.”

     “God knows she has been patient with that boy,” he agreed. “She's an excellent assistant for him.”

     “I don't think he needs assistance in this matter, Dad,” Elizabeth responded. “I mean, he seems to know what he's doing.  I can't tell you how shocked I am, too.  I mean, I guess I think of Josh as being... I don't know, incapable of this.  But I've got to hand it to him; he appears to have the routine down.”

     Bartlet glanced in their direction again. “His feet do seem to be keeping their own.”

     “I don't mean dancing, Dad, “she said with a frustrated sigh and a nod towards them. “I mean... You know.... their relationship.”

     “Elizabeth, what are you talking about?”

     “They're together, Dad,” she revealed.

     “Most people are when they dance,” Bartlet argued.

     “I don't mean dancing,” Liz clarified.

     “What?” he asked in disbelief.

     “You've worked elbow to elbow with Josh for months,” she stated. “How did you not know this?”

     “Know what?”

     “They're an item,” Liz said again quietly. “A couple.  A thing.”

     Bartlet shook his head. “No. Can't be.”

     “Dad, look at them,” Elizabeth smiled gently.  “Don't look at your staff members; look at those two people over there dancing.  See at the way they're looking at each other; the way they're moving in perfect rhythm.  They don't know there is anyone else in this room right now. They don't even know the President of the United States staring at them--and you really shouldn't do that Dad because it might attract attention they obviously don't want.”

     The President looked at them for a long moment.  It suddenly became clear.  “Well….”

     “She’s good for him--good to him,” Liz said.

     “I suppose as long as it's out of the office, he's free to pursue whatever he wants,” Bartlet answered.

     “I wonder if he believes that,” she mused.

     “What do you mean?”

     “Zoey told me that the two of you haven’t been... on the same page for a while now,” Liz replied. “I know how stressful this election was and the uncertainty surely didn't bring out the best in anyone, but you'll never find anyone in this city, in this country, who is dedicated to you the way these people are, Dad.  Josh included.  I know things were tense for a while, but I also know that Josh means a lot to you--they all do--but Josh is special.”

     “It might be that Josh and I have said things not long ago that were not the most delicate,” Bartlet said. “But what's done is done. And believe me; I know the sacrifices they all make.”

     “They're all devoted to you, Dad,” Liz reminded her father. “I just...  It's just that it seems to me that Josh had to make more sacrifices than the others.”

     “Elizabeth, I'm not asking him - or anyone - to give up their lives entirely while they serve,” he argued. “And yes, Josh has had to make sacrifices, but he chose to.”

    "He didn't choose all of it," she remarked.  “He’s been put through his own private Hell, and he has to live with that for the rest of his life.”

    "I know that,” Bartlet sighed.  “No one chose that and if I could have prevented any of it, you know I would have."

    "That's not what matters now,” Liz sighed.  “Dad, I know what you all do supercedes most everything else in your lives right now.  It should.  What you all do is important.  But...  It shouldn't mean that everything else has to be put on hold.  I see something else besides the two of them dancing right now.  I see the facade that they're just colleagues.  Josh wouldn't do anything--ever--to put his job second, but it doesn't have to be first every second of the day, does it?  He's a smart guy, but I don't think he understands that he can live and work.  He's always so locked into being Leo's Deputy that I think he doesn't know he can be just Joshua Lyman sometimes.”

     “Well, Elizabeth, it's not up to me to tell him how to live his life,” he said firmly.

     “No, but it wouldn't hurt if someone gave him some advice on how not to ruin his life,” she pointed out. “He respects you and your opinion, Dad.”

    "It's not my place," he said regretfully.

    "Your approval means a lot to him--more than he lets on even now," Elizabeth said.  "Josh is all business and he does a good impersonation of a calculating politician, but he wouldn't have let that story about his problems after the shooting out if it was for someone he didn't believe in.  Maybe if he knew you didn't expect him to put everything else on hold until you leave office, it might be helpful.”

     “Why is this so important to you?”

    “I’ve always been fond of Josh,” she said.  "He intrigues me.  On the surface, he’s this major political guy and underneath he’s like a little kid at heart.  He’s just… For being one of the beltway’s ego kings, he’s very likeable… endearing, really.  Besides, Annie wanted to do something nice for him."

    "Annie? Why?"

    "She’s taking German this year and she was having trouble."

     Bartlet looked at her. “I know German; she should have asked me for help.”

     “Well, she was in the office the other day and was going to...” she began.

     “We were supposed to have breakfast, but I got tied up,” he explained.  “I apologized to her over lunch; she never mentioned she needed any help.”

     Liz nodded. “That’s because by noon, she didn’t need any.  She was working on some extra credit she needs to do to bring her grades.”

     “I can help her now,” Bartlet said, looking around for the teenage girl.  “We can have someone go get her books and we can….”

    “Dad,” Elizabeth chuckled.  “You’re at your party; you’re not tutoring.”

    “My granddaughter’s education is more important than this party,” Bartlet stated.

     “Well, she found help on her own already,” Elizabeth clarified.  “She snagged Josh in the hallway yesterday morning, and he helped her.”

     “I didn't know Josh knew German.”

     “You didn't?” Liz gasped, feigning shock. “You didn't know some inane detail about an employee.  I'm shocked, Dad.  I'll have to tell Mom.”

     “Elizabeth,” he scolded.

     “Fine,” she smirked. “Instead, I'll tell her is that you had no idea one of your senior advisors was seeing his assistant all this time.”

     “All this time?” Bartlet repeated. “How long has this been going on?”

     “That's hard to say,” Liz said. “That thing about the dancing was just what I observed myself.  Mom told me about the two of them months ago.”

     “Your mother knew?” he stopped dancing. “And she didn't tell me?”

     “It would appear not.”

     “Where is she?” Bartlet demanded.

     “That's another thing that you don't know,” Elizabeth smirked and kissed his cheek.

     “Are you done torturing your father?”

     “For now.”

     Bartlet smiled. “Good. Now go get my granddaughter. It's time for her dance with Gramps.”

     “Okay,” she replied, taking his hand. “But for the record, her father taught her to dance--I have it on video tape.”

     “That's your version.”

    “It's... uh...  this is different than last time,” Josh said. “The Ball.”

    Donna smirked. “Certainly. You had me working throughout the entire evening.”

    “Night is still young,” Josh said, returning the smirk.

    “Of course,” Donna said, rolling her eyes as her left had gently rubbed his shoulder. Josh responded by tightening his hold on her waist.

    “So you never did answer me,” Josh said. “Did you steal this dress? See, 'cause if you did, you'd better not be seen next to the President.  Image problems, you know...”

    Donna cut him off. “My mother bought this dress for me.”

    “Ah.”

    “Yes.”

    “Donna, I...” Josh started. Sam suddenly appeared by their side.

    “Donna!” Sam smiled as he stepped between them. He turned towards Josh. “Josh, Burk and Rossiter wanted to see you for two minutes.  I'll take over here, if Donna doesn't mind.”

    Josh looked at Donna, and then Sam. “Uh...Sure...”

    “It was good to see you, Josh,” Donna offered.

    “Sure,” Josh answered. “Um, we'll need to... um, later the thing... you know.... I…”

    She nodded her understanding. “Yes. Sometime.”

    “It's really good to see you,” he said softly and smiled.

     “Guy gets his face on a few magazines and suddenly he's a primadonna,” Sam said as they began to dance. “You look stunning, Donna.”

     “Thank you,” she blushed. “You’re looking very handsome.”

    “Thank you,” Sam grinned.

    “I really appreciate the note you sent me after my father passed away,” Donna said solemnly.  “That meant a lot.  You’re very kind.”

    “I’m fond of you, Donna,” Sam said.  “You know that, don’t you?”

    She nodded.

    “Did you come alone?” she asked.

    “Yes,” he said confidently.  “I did.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, do you?”

    “I’m glad you didn’t,” Donna said.  “I’d never have gotten a moment alone with you.”

    “I’m sorry?” Sam asked with some concern.

    “Well, someone as handsome as you would be very hard to have to myself for long,” she said.

    “I see,” Sam said, feeling slightly odd.  “And you mean what by the precisely?”

    “Well, as it is, I can feel a dozen women’s eyes (and perhaps a few men’s too) boring holes in my back,” Donna said.  “You’re always so good to me, Sam.  I wish I could show you how much I appreciate that.”

    “Uh…,” Sam felt tongue-tied.  “Well, Donna. I… uh… That is….  Gee, I…. Leo needs me.”

    “What?”

    “I mean, I just remembered that I was going to dance… I mean see Leo before I danced with him, with you,” Sam sputtered in a flustered fashion.  “I should go be with… I mean see him.  Yes, I should go see, uh….”

    “Leo?” Donna offered.

    “Yes,” Sam nodded.  “I’ll see you later.”

    He stepped back from her curtly and nodded again.  His face had a soft tinge of red to it as he scurried away, leaving Donna.  He continued across the room, looking for Josh.

    What have I done?  I kept them apart and now this….  Oh, this is not good.  No, this is bad.  This is definitely… well, not good.

    He scanned the room for Josh but could not locate him.  He found Charlie instead.

    “Have you seen Josh?” Sam asked promptly.

    “I’ve been with the President mostly,” Charlie said.

    “Josh hasn’t been here?”

    “I said,” Charlie replied, “I’ve been around the President.  Josh was dancing with Donna the last time I saw him.”

    “Well, I cut in,” Sam said.  He observed Charlie’s dagger glare.  “It was just so that he could talk with…. Doesn’t matter.  I didn’t’ want to do it.  I think they should dance.  Together.  The two of them.  It’s better than the two of us.”

    “You and Josh?”

    “Donna and I,” Sam said.  “She’s… Charlie, what would you think if a woman said you were handsome and felt fortunate that she was able to dance with you?”

    “It would depend on the woman,” Charlie nodded.

    “No it wouldn’t,” Sam said.

    “Yeah, it would,” Charlie affirmed.  “See, if it was a scary woman, I’d think I was being punished.  If it was a…”

    “Could we focus on my problem and not your libido?” Sam interrupted.  “I think Donna just…. I think she might have what could only be the teeniest of small crushes on me.  I wrote her this note after her father died, and I think it meant a lot to her.”

    “What did the note say?”

    “I don’t recall,” Sam said.

    “Maybe you proclaimed your undying love for her,” Charlie offered.

    “No, I didn’t,” Sam said hotly.  “I mean, I don’t have …. I don’t feel that way about Donna.  I mean, I love her, but not like a go-home-with-me-tonight kind of love.  More of a thanks-for-listening-and-for-finding-that-file-for-me kind of love.”

    “Fine line,” Charlie nodded.

    “Tell me about it,” Sam sighed.  “So now, I’m afraid she might… you know, have this thing for me.  Which, I mean, I’m flattered, but it’s just not going to happen.  I don’t want to hurt her.  She’s had a rough few weeks.  And then there’s Josh.”

    “Josh has a crush on you, too?” Charlie asked.

    “No,” Sam said quickly.

    "Josh has a crush on you?'

    Sam sighed and hung his head.   “Charlie, you’re just slapping me around because you can, right?”

    “Pretty much.”

     Abbey Bartlet made her way through the mesh of guests to arrive at her husband's side.  He was sporting his inquisitive look.  She could tell from the way he clasped his hands behind his back that he would be requesting information from her that he and was expecting a little battle before getting it.  She was ready for the match.  She took a final sip of her champagne then offered him a broad grin.

     “Abigail,” he said formally.  "Out with it."

     “Oh, what is it now?” she said innocently.  "What did I do?  Or what is it you think I did?"

     “No, no, no...,” he waggled a finger at her. “The question is:  What didn't you tell me?”

     “That list is too long to recite here tonight,” Abbey shook her head. “Better narrow it down for expediency's sake.  What specifically are you asking about?”

     “Take a look, Cupid,” he pointed to the dance floor.  "There.  Donna."

     “Donna's back,” Abbey smiled. “That's wonderful.  What’s the problem?”

     “I'm talking about what's happening over there.”

     “It's called dancing, Jed,” Abbey sighed. “It's legal and doesn't need a historical dissertation.”

     “Did you know that they have some sort of relationship?” he asked.

     “Donna and Congressman Skinner?”

     Bartlet glared at her. “What does Matt Skinner have to do with this?”

     “Jed,” Abbey chuckled. “Matt is dancing with Donna.”

     “You knew about them,” Bartlet said.  “Josh and Donna.”

     Abbey smirked. “Ah, yes.  That."

    "Yes," Bartlet said.  "That.  What is it that that is precisely and why didn't you tell me?"

    "Well," she replied.  "I may in fact have some knowledge of..... something or other.  As for not telling you, I didn't think it was any of your business.  After all, they're consenting adults.  Plus, I think they're kind of cute together; they have this Hepburn/Tracy quality.”

     “Seriously?”

     “How can someone as smart as you miss this?” she sighed. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one who didn’t figure it out.  My money is on that Josh is still in the dark about it too.”

     “How so?” he asked

     “She’s not an Electoral Vote or a political strategy,” Abbey said.  “I think she baffles him.  He'd better be good to her or he'll regret it the rest of his life.”

     “Well, they can't all be like you and me,” Bartlet observed.

     “I wonder if she’s staying,” Abbey said.

    “I’m sorry?”

    “Zoey heard something about Donna going home,” Abbey replied.  “She didn’t know if that meant Donna was returning to Wisconsin for good to help her mother.”

     “Really?” the President asked. “Now, that would be a shame. Wed hate to lose such a good assistant.”

     “Josh would lose more than that, Jed.”

1:47 a.m.
Georgetown
Josh’s apartment

    Josh solemnly ascended the stairs inside his apartment building, his mind jumbled with images from the night. He remembered the look of gratitude from the President as he addressed the crowd at the Ball; the look of pride in his mother’s eyes during her White House tour; the look of Donna.  She reminded him that night of Cinderella – a beautiful woman who disappeared into the night without a trace. Only he didn’t have a glass slipper to take home.  When he had returned from his discussion with the congressman, Sam informed Josh that Donna had left for the evening.

     Josh put the key in the lock and opened the door. He draped his topcoat over a chair and tossed his keys on the coffee table then sat down on the sofa. He turned on the television and flipped the channels. Finding nothing of interest, he flicked it off.

     Josh made his way down the short hall to his bedroom. He didn’t remember closing the door when he left earlier in the day, nor leaving a light on. He cautiously turned the knob and opened the door.

     The room was bathed in candle light.  Votives adorned the dresser, the window sill and the nightstand. Lounging comfortably on the bed, in a long, sleek negligee, was Donna.

     “Hi,” she said casually.

     “Hi?” he questioned.

    “It’s later,” she said casually.

    “Yeah,” he said.  “You left the Ball without so much as a goodbye; you’ve been here the entire time?”

     “I’ve always thought the candlelight was beautiful,” she remarked as she rose from the bed.

     “Yeah,” Josh said absentmindedly.

     “I figured you were still busy with all the preparations and basking in the glory at being the Poster Boy for the Democratic Party,” she replied, answering his question from earlier.  “Didn’t want to interrupt the master at work.”

     “See, the words sound like a compliment but the tone—no so much,” he answered.

    “I like to keep you guessing,” she offered.

    “Works for me,” he said softly.

     Josh slowly walked towards Donna.  He stared into her bright blue eyes and sighed.

    “I see your tie is straight,” Donna observed.

    “My mother tied it,” he replied.  “So…. You’ve been waiting.”

    “Uh uh,” she said.  “It’s a good thing you got here when you did.”

    “Why’s that?”

     “Because I feel like if I don’t get to kiss you right now, I could die,” Donna said.

    “I see,” he answered.  “A lot of pressure there.”

    “Only on your lips.”

    She kissed him and hte moment lingered.  The look on his face afterward was both puzzled and intrigued.

    "So, does this mean you're staying?" he asked in husky and strained tone.  "I mean in town.  I heard you were only going into the office tomorrow to clean off your desk."

    "Yeah," she smiled at the pitiful look in his eyes.  "Clean off whatever you've toss on since I left.  Dust off my shelves.  Put up my new calendar.  Go through my e-mail.  That kind of thing."

    "Oh," he nodded as what she called Hppy Dimple appeared.  "Good thinking."

    "I know," she replied as she laced her arms around his neck.  "Now, about this."

    "Yeah," he said looking around again.  "I was going to ask about.... this."

    "I know we have this rule about, uh, visiting.... only when we're on the road, but I thought that tonight could be a little exception."

    "An exception?" he asked as Happy Dimple vanished to be replaced by his nearly identical sibling, Concerned Dimple.

    As a man who dealt with legislation, she could see that the concept of an exception that was undefined troubled him.  She paused then rephrased.

    "Actually, it's more like a special occasion," she stated.  "Like a holiday."

    "Okay," he nodded as Happy Dimple promptly returned.  "The government recognizes 13 federal holidays.  I work for the governemnt."

    "That's right," she nodded as she tugged on the ends of his tie, pulling it loose.  "Now, I think you're a bit over dressed for this occasion."

    The chirping of Josh's pager stirred him from sleep instantly.  He grabbed his beeper off the night stand and silenced it.  He recognized Charlie's phone number at the office requesting a return call.  Josh rubbed his eyes and finished waking.  The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of breathing.

    Donna lay entangled in the sheets.  It was an odd feeling waking to find her there still.  Odder still was that he was glad to see her.  If he had thought about it at all the previous evening (which he didn't) he would have expected her to be gone at morning light.  Rather than wake her, Josh grabbed clothing from the back of the chair in the corner of the room and slipped into the living room after he was dressed.  He dialed Charlie's number.

    "Charlie Young," the aide said crisply as he answered the call.

    "Yeah, this is Josh," Josh replied.  "What’s going on?"

    "Yeah," Charlie said.  "When can you be here?"

    "Half an hour," Josh said without any discernable emotion.  "You know what this is about."

    "I don't know what this is about," Charlie said.

    “It's okay, Charlie," Josh said.  “I just meant, do you know if he wants me to bring the thing in writing or do I work that out with Leo?”

    "Josh, I honestly don't know anything more than he asked me to call you when I thought you'd be awake," Charlie said.  "He would like to see you as soon as possible this morning in the residence."

    "The residence?" Josh asked.  "So I'm dealing with Leo for the official stuff later.  Got it."

    "You'll be here in half an hour?" Charlie responded.

    "Sure," Josh said and disconnected.  He took a deep breath and nodded.

    So, this is what it feels like to get fired.
 

Up Next, Chapter 3:Res Ipsa Loquitor