Title: HEAVEN
AND HELL, Res Ipsa Loquitor (Chapter
Three)
Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247
Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
Notes: This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you
who followed the storyline from one series to the next.
The Presidential Residence
Josh arrived at the White House in roughly the
time he had promised Charlie. He was greeted by the aide and the two
walked to the residence together, though Josh had been there many times without
an escort.
"Some party last night," Charlie remarked.
"How did.... Oh, you meant the thing," Josh shook his head. "Never mind."
"What did you think I meant?"
"I didn't think anything," Josh lied horribly.
"Okay," Charlie replied skeptically as he knocked briefly on the sitting room door and announced Josh's arrival. He left with a hopeful look on his face as Josh entered the room.
"Josh," the President said blandly.
"Good morning, Mr. President," Josh replied feeling
eerily calm.
His drive to the office had been peaceful as well. He
expected to be more anxious or perhaps even angry, but something in him would
have no part of those feelings. There was a certain amount of regret he
knew he would feel when packing up his office, but he was satisfied that he had
done all he could and did not see any fault in his actions. There was the
nagging question of what he had done to malign the President, but that question
had been around so long it was just part of the day and was nothing he dwelled
upon any longer.
"Are you going to come into the room or do you prefer to
stand in the doorway?" Bartlet asked as he returned to his seat by the
window.
Josh entered the sitting room and approached the President. A copy of the Washington Post lay on the table at the President's elbow near his coffee cup. It was open to the middle of the first section. A small headline near the bottom of the page caught Josh's eye. It was not often a piece of Danny Concannon's was buried so deep in the paper. Then again, Josh reasoned, the topic hardly was worth writing about for Danny. The story was brief--a sidebar to his larger story about the President's speech the day before.
"Did you read The Post today?" Bartlet asked slipping his glasses on his nose and glancing at the paper again.
"Uh.... I... no," Josh answered. He could not recall the last time he had not read The Post--even just the front page headlines--by this time of the day.
Bartlet eyed him carefully for a moment waiting for more of an answer. When he realized none was forth coming, he shook his head.
"Didn't spin that very well now did you?" the President remarked. "I read that the 11th Amendment has got to go."
"I said that it merits revisiting," Josh
corrected him. "It was written at a time when the Framers were still
worried about a Loyalist gaining popularity and handing the country back to the
British crown. It seems antiquated to claim we are a free people and that
all citizens enjoy equal rights while preventing people from running for
President just because they were not born on this soil. Because of it, a
brilliant woman like the Governor of Michigan, who would make a fabulous
candidate for President, can never seek the office because of a misfortune in
her parents' timing. She is an American citizen by birth but was
physically born in
"I see," Bartlet said looking at the article again before refolding the paper. "You wrote a paper they mention? You did it in college?"
Josh nodded. It had earned him a solid and insulting C at the time, he recalled. His professor was as unimpressed with his stance and argument as the President appeared.
"And you wrote it anticipating that the Democrats would have a prospective candidate with a Canadian birth certificate in the new millennium?"
"I wrote it for Harry Meinke," Josh said.
"He was my grandfather's best friend and served in the
"I know the name," Bartlet recalled. "He was quite powerful in the Party. Joe Kennedy detested him."
"Publicly," Josh nodded, cutting the story short
and trying not to sound defensive. "Harry was brilliant and could
have been governor, but he wouldn't run because he felt it was a stepping stone
to higher office. He was born
"So you're saying you now support the 11th Amendment and are withdrawing your support for the Governor of Michigan and Henry Kissinger?"
"I wasn't back peddling," Josh stated. "I just meant that when I wrote the paper... I think that I knew more then than I know now."
"I agree," Bartlet nodded.
"Yes, sir," Josh sighed dejectedly. He could not wait for this to be over. He would not enjoy leaving the White House, but no longer serving as the President's punching bag was an appealing prospect.
"Josh, are you going to sit?" Bartlet asked, gesturing to the chair beside him.
Josh nodded and took the seat as requested. He stared at his hands and decided to let the President get around to firing him in his own time. Josh glanced briefly at his watch. If it was to be believed, he still had 35 minutes before he would be late for meeting his mother; she would celebrate his unemployment.
"I didn't see you last evening," Bartlet
remarked. "I mean other than that brief nod and remark I received
when your mother greeted me."
"I meant no disrespect, sir," Josh said truthfully.
"There was a lot going on, and I didn't feel it was my place to
occupy your time with idle chat about the weather."
"Like that," Bartlet nodded, sensing the cool tone
in Josh's reply. It was not an insult. It was indifference laid over
the veneer of respect Bartlet was no longer sure he deserved from the man.
"Your mother enjoyed the festivities last evening?"
he asked.
"Yes, sir," Josh replied. "She thinks
the White House throws a quality party."
"Will she be visiting long?"
"She's going to
"I see," Bartlet nodded. "Then I suppose
I should get to the point."
"No need," Josh said. "While there may
be some right you have to say the actual words, I would ask that you allow me to
offer up my resignation first. Despite the current climate, I believe
there is a strong case to be made that I have earned the right to do at least
that."
"Oh you do?"
"Yes, sir," Josh replied frankly. "Whatever
error or egregious insult I perpetrated remains a mystery to me, and frankly I'm
beyond caring any longer. However, I am still prepared to advise you--and
Leo would agree with me--that the cleanest course of action for the
administration is to allow me to resign for my reasons. I don't mean this
to sound like a threat, but there will be hell if you do not."
"How is that not supposed to be a threat?"
"Because it's not," Josh replied simply.
"Sir, I'm not the one that will cause the problem. The questions that
would arise if you fire me now, without any immediate or obvious provocation,
would start scandal rumors. I am prepared to answer questions to reporters
truthfully and without malice, but I am decidedly uninformed as to the reason I
am no longer wanted within the administration. My response of 'I don't
know' would sound like a cover story and at the start of the new term, that
would bog down any number of legislative plays Leo needs to call. My
resignation--for my own reasons--will cause some stirring, but the thing dies
with the news cycle at the end of the week."
"So you've thought this out?"
"It's what you pay me to do," Josh answered.
"Like CJ's memo?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Toby asked CJ to draft a memo on how best to handle a
story regarding your separation from your current post," Bartlet said.
"Why would he do that?"
"Because I asked him to," Josh replied.
"When?"
"December 16."
"That's the day after the vote," Bartlet noted.
"She's had this assignment for a month, and I've noticed that it is causing
her a combination of attention deficit disorder and heart burn. My
understanding is that her scenario sounds greatly like what you just proposed.
What, curiously, would be your reasons? Surely not this
Constitutional thing. You killed that last night."
"It... I know it would have been convenient to
use, but I'd rather as much truth as possible be used--if only to leave nothing
for reporters to turn up later," Josh replied.
"So what are your reasons?"
"I think we can easily make a solid case of better
offers in the private sector," Josh replied.
"Yeah, that's what you want to tell the press, but
I'm asking what your reasons are?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You're determined to leave," Bartlet remarked.
"Tell me why. Don't be shy. If it’s me, I can take it.
You've said worse to me in the Oval Office."
"Due respect, Mr. President," Josh replied, feeling
the anger, so far absent, start to rise. "I disagree. I admit
at times my mouth overrides my better manners, but I can think of no instance in
the 12 months when I have done or said anything that was..."
"All right," Bartlet waved him off. "I'll
concede the point. What I don't understand is why you are."
"Sir?"
"You gave up," Bartlet said, sounding amazed.
"Josh, you baffle me. Just when I think I've got you figured out, you
do something that lets me know I don't understand you. Like just now; you
gave up. I don't like to see that from anyone, but from you I find it
incredible. You're the one.... Man, the rest of us stood in that room,
there in the Bullpen, and waited for the inevitable. But where were you?
On the phone reversing gravity. Before
"You're not out until the umpire says so," Josh finished the sentence with a flat tone and expression that indicated he did not think there was any other course. Anything else would be illogical.
"So why are you doing it now?" Bartlet asked.
"Sir, I think we both know there is nothing left I can accomplish here," Josh began.
"Oh, so you've gotten Appropriations to give back all that money they raided from the Education Bill, beaten the insurance lobby into submission so they'll reduce health care costs and rid the country of assault rifles?" Bartlet asked. "My, my, no wonder I didn't see you last night and you look tired today. You were a busy boy weren't you?"
"Sir?"
Bartlet observed the man beside him sporting the bewildered expression. For as intelligent and insightful politically as Josh could be, the one thing he failed to understand was his own blamelessness in the current circumstance. Without realizing it, he was still protecting the President by absolving him of his guilt in their situation. Bartlet was touched by this. It was the type of loyalty he thought Josh only reserved for Leo.
"Toby and Sam give my thoughts words," he began. "Nancy and Fitzwallace get me into and out of the war zones and hot spots. CJ is my warrior with the press. Leo keeps the mad house running. And then there's you. You are my political navigator. Without you, the ship runs aground. And now you want to abandon us."
"This isn't about dissatisfaction with my job," Josh said quickly.
"It's about my dissatisfaction with you?" Bartlet ventured.
Josh met the President's eyes and answered clearly and calmly.
"Yes, sir," he replied promptly.
"Truth to power," Bartlet remarked shaking his head. "I've noticed some people have trouble with that when talking to the President. Not you though; from the moment I met you, you've been able to tell me what you think regardless of consequence. I confess it is not always what I want to hear, and you are wrong at times, but you know that and still it never stops you. I have had a strange way of showing it recently, but I appreciate that. So what I am about to say is long overdue. I owe you an apology, Josh. I've acted horribly toward you. Several years ago, I promised you that I would never make you feel like I didn't know your value. I betrayed that pledge, and I am sorry."
Josh said nothing. He could see the sincerity in the President's eyes as clearly as he could hear it in his words. Though some part of his mind would remain curiously, Josh no longer cared why the cold war had started; it was irrelevant and time to move on.
"Mr. President, I..."
"Josh, we still have a lot left to do and there's no re-election worries to slow us down," Bartlet cut him off. "I need you guiding us. I want you to stay."
"Of course, sir," Josh nodded.
Bartlet smile thinly for a moment. Many men would have held on to their scorn and tried to use their grudge for advantage at time like this. But not Josh. Bartlet quietly chastised himself again for his behavior as he realized his staffer had dismissed the previous animosity and would never speak or think of it again. Bartlet then removed his glasses and fixed Josh with a calculated stare that let the younger man know that the topic of conversation had just switched. What the new direction was to be, Josh did not know.
"Now, there's one other thing that, after much contemplation, I think needs to be said," Bartlet began. "I mean this as advice from one man to another. I've juggled a career in politics for 40 years as the front man--the one in the Press, casting the vote and putting his name on the ballot. There is life outside these walls."
"Yes, sir," Josh said still mystified.
"Which, apparently you know as well," Bartlet
continued, his eyes unmistakably trailing to the slight red mark at Josh's
collar. Donna had been quite playful and the mild nip she gave him was
only just visible still. He had noticed the mark when he was dressing but
did not think it was obvious. From the president's gaze, he knew that was
incorrect.
"I.... Yes, sir," Josh said and unconsciously
rubbed the mark.
"Dead give away, son," Bartlet shook his head
knowingly. "That's how my mother always caught me. Best if you
pretended you didn't know it was there. Or do you have a logical
explanation for that?"
"Mosquito?" Josh ventured, expression clearly
condemning him.
"Yes, they are quite a nuisance in January,"
Bartlet noted dryly. "I would have gone for frostbite; then again,
I'm not the political genius in the room. Well, whatever. That being
said, you're not my son so I won't lecture you--the First Lady is another story,
lucky for you she and the girls are still sleeping."
"I'm not sure what this...."
"I just wanted to say that I trust that situations
would not arise to compromise the integrity of your position," the
President continued.
"Sir...."
"Let me finish, Josh," Bartlet said calmly.
"I'm saying I trust your judgments. If I didn't think you could
conduct yourself in a professional manner, one befitting your position, you
would not be here. What I'm trying to get at is.... I understand
that the people who work here sacrifice a great deal. It's one of the
puzzling inequities in life that to devote yourself to the bettering of the
lives of others, you must first surrender so much of yourself. Time is a
precious thing so many waste. It would be a crime if you did not pause
every once in a while to appreciate your good fortune and enjoy life. We
have important work to do here, and the clock is running, but there is a life to
be had outside this building, outside this entity of politics. Don't
squander all of your minutes for this administration. There is a time for
work--a great deal of it--but what is the point of trying to make life better if
you do nothing to enjoy your own life?"
"Um, thank you sir," Josh said with puzzlement.
"Impropriety and abuse of power is tolerated by no one
in this White House, but we are also not puritanical," Bartlet added.
"Just remember that the office is the office. Leaving the office at
the office--now that's tricky."
"Thank you, Mr. President," Josh said awkwardly.
Bartlet considered Josh and could see he had no clue what he had just been told. Bartlet chuckled dryly for a moment. Abbey and Liz were right. Josh still had much to learn.
"Res ipsa loquitor," Bartlet said.
"Sir?"
"It's Latin," the President replied. "Seriously, how is it that no lawyer in this building is knows any Latin?"
"I understood it," Josh answered. "I meant what..."
"The thing speaks for itself," Bartlet translated unnecessarily. "You are who you are, Josh. No reason to run away from it; live your life; enjoy it and all it offers you. Some thing are precisely what they seem."
"Yeah," Josh said, still no further enlightened
but thinking it best he left things that way before getting a dissertation on
anything that would make him late to meet his mother. "Will that be
all?"
"Yeah,” Bartlet said. "That and don't give
Leo a stroke."
Josh rose and thanked the President as he departed. He was exiting the residence and heading back toward the West Wing when he encountered Leo striding purposefully in his direction.
"You spoke to him?" Leo asked anxiously. He looked perturbed and worried--a comforting to sight to Josh as it meant things were returning to what passed for normal in his world.
"Yeah," Josh answered in a relaxed manner.
"Well, what did he said?"
"He said I can have your parking space," Josh answered.
*****************
The White House
Jan. 21,
Sam was flattered that a beautiful woman such as Donna was
attracted to him, but he felt overwhelming guilty not sharing those feelings.
He wondered if his monstrous guilt was due to the efforts he made to keep
Josh from attempting to start a less than career oriented relationship with her
over the previous year. He felt
terribly guilty about that and now with Donna no longer looking to Josh as a
possible source to assuage her womanly needs it was doubly troubling.
This is bad karma, he thought.
This is like a Greek play. In
keeping them apart, I turned Donna on to me.
Fate’s cruel sense of humor. I
inadvertently made her become attracted to me.
By constantly being there - keeping her and Josh separate.
Then that note. I don’t
even remember what I wrote other than I was sorry she lost her father. And I was sorry. It’s
sad that he passed away; how could I not see she was vulnerable and would be
looking for comfort and solace. It’s
my fault.
He rounded the corner and entered the Communications Bullpen.
The bullpen was virtually empty, save the sound of thumping coming from his
boss’s office.
“Good morning to you, Toby,” Sam said as he appeared in
the doorway. “What are you thinking about?”
Toby caught the sphere and glared at his deputy. “Ways to
fire you so you can go work at that Pippytart place.”
“Pop…never mind,” Sam sighed. “Speaking of being
fired. Has anyone seen…?”
“His car was in the parking lot when I got here,” Toby
replied.
“It’s not there now,” Sam remarked.
He had looked; Josh’s spot was vacant.
“I talked with
Charlie who said that Josh was in the Residence first thing this morning,”
Toby continued. “Charlie didn’t
see him leave.”
Sam shook his head. “His door is closed.
Did personnel lock it? I
mean, if he cleaned it out…Or would security know because...”
“No one seems to know anything - which is the kind of thing
you like to learn about the White House staff the day after the Inauguration,”
Toby said.
“Leo?”
“Busy with the President,” Toby said.
“The
Sam flopped down on the couch. “Right, so do we call
him?”
“Tried,” Toby said.
“No one at his apartment. No
answer on his cell.”
“So we wait to read it in the Post on Monday?”
“Seems that way.”
“And you’re okay with this?” Sam asked.
“I have a choice?” Toby countered.
“Toby!” Sam replied. “This is Josh we’re talking
about. You remember him? The guy that saved our jobs?”
“The President was the one who was elected,” Toby
reminded Sam. “Josh was part of
the team.”
“You said was,” Sam interrupted. “You know damn well that...
Toby, this is Josh. Friendship
aside, he’s damn good at what he does. The
guy is…”
“He’s the guy that screwed up more times than…,” Toby
said calmly. “He serves at the pleasure of the President and if his mind’s
made up, it’s made up. It’s not that I don’t like Josh.
You’re right; he’s a pro, a political All Star, but he’s also quick
tempered and irrational at times.”
“And the rest of us aren’t?” Sam muttered.
Toby looked at his deputy, noting the look of culpability
that washed over Sam’s face. “It looks like that finally caught up with
him.”
“What is Leo doing about this?”
“Nothing,” Toby said.
“Nothing?”
“I'm sorry; did I stutter?”
“Toby, the things Josh has done for Leo,” Sam shook his
head. “I just think that he
deserved better than this. I know
Josh doesn’t tell me everything. He’s
inside on things that I don’t care to know about right now, but he’s there
because they trust him and they should trust him.
What the hell happened to change that?
We won.”
“Well, that game’s over and we’ve got a new one to
play,” Toby said.
“Right,” Sam agreed.
“So what I’m saying is, what the hell else is out there that would
make them do this to Josh right now? I
don’t think I’m off track to say that it can’t be anything Josh has done.
The guy isn’t perfect by any stretch, but when he screws up, he does it
big time and publicly. So if it’s not something he did, what is it?
He can’t know anything or they’d never ditch him…and what’s there
to know? So…”
“So what’s out there that they had to sacrifice the guy
who scripted our entire legislative agenda for the next two years?” Toby
finished. “I’ve been sitting in
this room for the last 20 minutes trying to answer that.”
“And?”
“I have no idea,” Toby said with a dower expression.
“And that scares the hell out of me.”
"Someone could ask Donna," Sam offered.
"How’s that?"
“She might know,” Sam said.
“Josh tells her things.”
“No he doesn’t,” Toby disagreed. “When we decided to tell the rest of the staff about the
President having MS, he didn’t tell her. He couldn’t. I had to do it or she would have heard it from Margaret 10
minutes before the President did the interview.”
“That’s different,” Sam said. “That was about the President.
This is about... Unless you
think that there’s... Toby, this
term is supposed to be easier than the first.”
“Did you get that in writing from someone?”
“Well, at least someone should warn her that that’s what
could happen,” Sam said.
“Who?”
“Donna,” he continued.
“She told me last night that she’s coming back to work on Monday or
whenever Josh summons here - whichever was first. I think with everything she’s been through the last few
weeks, the last thing she needs right now is to find out from the news that her
boss was fired.”
“So call her,” Toby answered. “Of course, bear in mind that your conversation will have
to say that you have no reason to know anything that you are saying is true and
could be worrying her for no reason at all.
If you think that will be helpful, then by all means do so. She takes the
news better from you. Every time I talk to her I always bring her bad news.
She’s starting to avoid me, which I don’t mind at times. Donna likes you.”
“She what?” Sam exclaimed. “No, no no. That’s not a
good thing.”
“I’m going to bite the bullet here and ask,” Toby
sighed, stroking his beard. “Why isn’t that a good thing, Sam?”
“Well, you see, Toby,” Sam stammered, his face beginning
to show a rouge tint. “I’m kind
of a charming guy.”
“I need to drink more before I talk with you,” Toby
moaned.
“No, I’m being serious,” Sam asserted.
“So am I,” Toby growled.
“Did your charm put your foot in your mouth?”
“Not exactly,” Sam explained. “It started at the ball…
Well, actually, it must have started well before that but I didn’t
realize it and then I stoked the fire within...”
“The fire?”
“She said that I was… very… handsome and… and…
and…,” Sam said uncomfortably.
Toby rubbed his eyes. “Sam, the Cliff Notes version.”
“Donna’s in love with me,” Sam blurted out. “And
believe me, Toby. I did nothing to encourage it. All I did was tell her
she looked nice and she thanked me for the nice note I wrote when her father
passed.”
“Donna?” Toby said in disbelief. “She loves you?”
“She thinks she does, but I’m going to have to let her
down easy-convince her that she doesn’t,” Sam explained.
“You’ll do that?” Toby asked flatly. “Because you know she loves you?”
“I’m fairly certain,” Sam said. “She did that thing that women do.”
“And that thing is what precisely?”
“That giggle thing,” Sam said. “I cut in when she was talking, well, dancing with Josh.
The look on her face was pretty obvious.”
“And it was for you?”
“Who else could it be?” Sam asked. “I tapped Josh on the shoulder and she saw me and looked
surprised and had this, well, grin and giggle thing going on.
I noticed it right off.”
“You did?” Toby responded.
“And so this is how you... I’m
sorry, let me get this straight. You
wrote her a condolence note and said hello to her last night and this has made
her fall in love with you?”
“That’s a paraphrased Cliff Notes version, but yes,”
Sam nodded. “Would it be so
bad?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed. “Well, I mean,
Donna’s a nice person; she’s certainly an attractive woman and would be
perfect for… omeone other than me. Donna…
She… She’s all wrong for me.
What do you think I should do?”
“About what?”
“About the love thing,” Sam sighed. “I mean, didn’t you see it last night?”
“I don’t pay attention to you,” Toby replied.
“Toby.”
“Sam,” Toby groaned. “I really don’t have time for
this. You may find this hard to believe, but I’m not playing matchmaker with
you or anyone in this White House. That’s not what the voters elected the
President to do and that’s not what the President hired me to do. I suggest
you go into your little office and do whatever you think you should do to end
whatever drama you think is happening here. Don’t come to me and tell me
you’ve found a solution because I don’t care. All I care about is getting as
much legislation passed in the four years we’ve been given. And right now,
you’re wasting my time and the smell of your magical coffee is making me
queasy.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to go to my office.”
Toby waved him out. “Try not to make the other assistants fall in love with you on the way.”
*****************
Union Station
8:15 a.m.
"Darling," Anna greeted her son as he arrived at the station and took a seat beside her at the cafe. She explained that she had already ordered and was beginning to think he had forgotten her.
"Sorry," he said briskly as he sat down. "I got called."
"Yes?"
"I hate to ruin your breakfast, but I have some
news," he said mildly. "Mom, I work the President of the
"Still?" she scoffed.
Josh shook his head and chuckled.
"You know, for a Democrat, you manage to sound like a disappointed Republican," he said. "I'm sorry. I tried. I really did, Mom. But the President didn't fire me."
"You've given him a litany of reasons," she remarked.
"My mother, the character assassin," he said as he sipped the coffee she had ordered for him. "I'll try harder to be less employable in the future."
"You will not," she said disappointedly. "I see your mood is much brighter than last evening. I'm glad you aren't suffering any further anxiety, Joshua. Of course, I will continue to do so..."
"Guilt is not going to work today," Josh cut her off quickly.
"I see that," Anna replied observing him carefully. "What aren't you telling me?"
"A lot, probably," he answered truthfully.
"Joshua, you're hiding something from me," she scolded lightly.
"True."
"True?" she repeated with concern. "You're admitting to it? I was being good-humored. Now, I'm actually starting to worry."
"You shouldn't," he said, snagging a piece of toast from her plate.
"I shouldn't?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm not hiding anything from you that is any of your business."
"Not my...," Anna thought for a moment then sighed. "Oh, so your good mood is not entirely work related. That can only mean one thing. So tell me, does Miss None of My Business have a name?"
"In fact, she does," Josh replied. "I even know what it is."
"That's encouraging, Darling," Anna said flatly.
She was suspicious of her son's mock coyness. She sensed he was in one of his rare moods when he would not mind her prying--he was all but inviting her to do so. Anna chalked that up to his successful and--to her--disheartening victory at staying employed. She was probably the only mother in her age group who went to bed with prayers that her son would not have his job the next morning.
"Well, Darling," she said in a calculated manner. "You seem content with your world. I suppose I am happy for you. I say suppose only because--while I want nothing more in this world than for you to be happy--I worry when you don't tell me everything. I'm disappointed that your new.... friend doesn't want you to tell your family who she is."
"Not her idea," Josh said. "Mine."
"You're telling me that you're not going to tell me you're seeing someone," Anna summarized. "That's devious and I'm back to being concerned."
"Don't be," he said. "And I never said I was seeing anyone."
"You did," Anna corrected him. "Call it what you want, but I'm you're mother and I know you better than you know yourself. Don't argue with me about that, because I win every time. So you don't want to give me any information. That means it's a secret and you don't keep secrets unless there is trouble around them. Is she married?"
"Yeah, it's both of those," Josh smirked. "It's a secret and it's trouble. The person I'm not seeing is both married and political. You've got me, Mom. I'm dating the First Lady."
"I think that might prompt the President to fire you," Anna said, unamused by his flip response. "There are some instances when I do not appreciate your sarcasm."
"Sorry," he replied instantly.
"Joshua, you know I worry about you," she began. "You can tell me not to all you like, but it won't change a thing. Your life scares me--more than it probably should, but I believe I have ample reason for my concern. Your dismissing my concern on this subject with flip responses is both disappointing and shameful. I'm not prying for intimate details of you life. I'm expressing my concern. You may be having delightful juvenile time dangling bits of information in front of me that you know will cause me to ask you about but which you have no intention to telling me. I thought I raised you better than that. I'm not some political pawn that you need to goad into making a move to assist you in dominating the political terrarium you inhabit. I'm your mother; I'm the only person in this entire city whose sole concern is your well-being. I find out in a by-the-way fashion that you're having a tryst with some woman you won't talk about and you expect me to say nothing? I suppose I'll just have to find out who she is by reading it in the gossip section of The New Republican next to the story about your latest nervous breakdown."
Josh stared back at her, sick at heart for the anxiety in his mother's voice and the betrayal in her eyes. He wanted to apologize. He had no intention of seeing her off like this. He had been in a genuinely good mood when he arrived. His world was on as even a keel as it had ever been and now...
"It's not like that," he said quietly and contritely. "Mom, it's Donna."
"I'm sorry?" Anna said looking over her shoulder to see if Donna had arrived with urgent business for Josh to attend.
"No," he shook his head. "I mean.... The person. The woman. It's not some evil seductress or whatever you.... Mom? Mom?"
"Darling, I'm sorry," Anna replied. "It sounded like you said Donna."
***************
Josh's Apartment
8:26 a.m.
Donna stretched in the bed, still half asleep. There was a distant trilling noise disturbing her. She mumbled then groaned.
"Mom, Frannie?" she said sleepily. "Get the phone."
When the noise ceased several minutes later, she opened her eyes. Then she sat upright, clutching the bed sheet to her chest.
"Oh my god," Donna gasped as she realized where she was.
She looked around the room. No Josh in sight. His cell phone, which always spent the nights just inches from his head regardless of where he slept, was missing.
That means he's gone. Which means he was awake. Which means he left at some point before I woke up. Which means.... It's light outside. What time... Oh my god. It's almost 8:30. If he left this morning, then he knows... Well, of course he knows I was here. But I stayed here. Oh this is not good. No. No. No.
Uncertain what Josh's reaction to seeing her at his apartment when he returned from… wherever he was made Donna leery. He was pleased she had returned and was grateful she was planning to stay. This she knew. He was pleased on both a professional and personal level, she knew. She did not want to overstay her welcome though, for fear of causing trouble on both fronts. She was determined to pull herself together fast and vacate the premises before he returned. Donna raced around the room, looking for her clothing.
"Where is it all?" she asked herself desperately as she knelt on the floor and fumbled through the pile of Josh's clothing from the night before. "I know I had underwear on when I came here."
With all her items in hand, she ran to the bathroom and spied the horror staring back at her in the mirror. While she did not consider herself to be vain, Donna was grateful that Josh did not see her looking like this. Medusa and the Bride of Frankenstein images swelled in her mind.
*****************
CJ Cregg's Office
9 a.m.
"So, I tried calling Josh," Sam said as he wandered into CJ's office.
"Yeah?" she replied as she read the Op-Ed page in The Times.
"Yeah," Sam shrugged. "No answer. I did get a busy signal on his cell phone. I haven't tried that again."
"Busy day ahead of you," CJ remarked.
"I know you're concerned about this whole situation, but let's talk about me," Sam offered as he took a seat uninvited.
"I'm not concerned," CJ corrected. "I am completely without concern."
"You're worried."
"I'm reading," she replied.
"Josh might not have a job, and you'll have to do a River Dance in the press room by lunch time to explain why," Sam said.
"He does, I don't and there's no need," she said still reading.
"How do you know?"
"I have my sources," CJ grinned.
"You saw Josh?"
"Better than that," she said.
"Better than?" Sam puzzled. "Who would know better than Josh if Josh has a job and would tell you?"
"I'm the White House Press Secretary," CJ argued, looking up from her newspaper. "People tell me things. I'm not just a pretty face you boys put up there to entertain the multitudes."
"No kidding."
"Hey," CJ snapped. "I've been doing my job just as long as you have been doing yours, pal. My title might have the word secretary in it, but I don't fetch coffee. When I say I know, then I know."
"Who's your source?" Sam asked doubtfully.
"Danny," CJ said simply.
"Oh that's great," he groaned. "You know, CJ, you might have worked this job for four years, but I think you missed something in the first term. We don't go to the press and ask them what is going on in our backrooms. It shows that we don't know what's going on, and it generally doesn't look good. Not to mention...."
"Thank you for that lecture in Professionalism 101," she cut him off. "I meant that I had breakfast with Danny today, and he asked me what I expected out of Josh's meeting with Avery next week."
"Josh is meeting with Mel Avery?"
"Yeah, about the shift in funding for the refugee and asylum programs," CJ said. "The Congresswoman's secretary told Danny this morning that they set up the meeting this morning for next Wednesday."
"Well, that's...," Sam paused and nodded. "Alright then."
"Now you," CJ said.
"Me?"
"Yes, you said you wanted to talk about you," CJ continued.
"Oh, that," Sam chuckled dryly. "It was a favor I want, that is, I hoped, you would do for me. Nothing really. Just a little thing. Something I would do for you because I both like you and respected you--not just as a colleague--but as a friend."
"What?"
"Make Donna stop loving me," he said quickly and painfully.
CJ looked up at him with a stony expression for a moment. Then her eyes crinkled and her lips pursed for a moment before a resounding guffaw spilled over her lips. She rocked in her chair for a moment and chuckled further. She eventually took a deep breath.
"Say that again?"
"Donna has a crush on me and I want you to help me make it go away," Sam said uncomfortably.
"How?"
"By telling her to... stop," he offered. "I don't know how. I'm no good at these things."
"Really?" CJ responded. "'Cause you seem pretty good at having women dump you. When did she... What was it you said?"
"I didn't exactly say...."
"You said she loves you," CJ countered.
"I said I think..."
"No," CJ argued. "You said she loves you. Since when?"
"It's a long story," Sam sighed. "I only realized it last night when I was dancing with her and complimented how good she looked."
"So you put the moves on her?"
"I did not!" Sam protested loudly then turned red and lowered his voice. "That is, I did nothing of the kind. No moves. There are no moves."
"Well that's a relief."
"CJ," Sam seethed. "I'm serious. This is a problem. Donna works here and I don't want this to be a thing. Look, she just went through some rough times, and I think she is mistaking my friendship--my dry, platonic and completely non-love oriented friendship--for something more. I don't want to hurt her or embarrass her. She's a sweet person and I like her, I just don't like her."
"Does Josh know?"
"No," Sam said. "And I would rather he didn't know. It would make things more awkward."
"Sam?" CJ said.
"Yeah?"
"You're very sweet to worry about Donna's feelings," CJ said.
"I am," he shrugged.
"I find that so intriguing and chivalrous," CJ continued.
"You do?"
"Yes," she said. "Maybe I'm in love with you, too. Did that girl behind the counter at Poppytwist ever smile at you and say good morning? Because she might be madly in love with you as well. I know what we can do. We can start the Cult of Sam. Sam Worshippers."
"Fine," he said flatly as he stood and prepared to leave. "Make fun of me. Why should you be any different than Toby? I'm worried about how to let a friend down easy and all you can think about is polishing your shtick for the Improv."
He hung his head and started out of the room.
"Hey, Sam," CJ called. "Just so you know, later on, when I dropped my questions about the Ghana thing in your in-box, that is not to be construed in any way as an expression of my love toward you."
"Yeah," he said and skulked down the hall.
*****************
Georgetown
Josh's apartment
Donna quickly showered and prepared to dress when she
realized that the only clothing she had available was her evening gown from the
night before and her negligee. She hadn't thought to bring a change of
clothes because she had rushed to Josh's apartment so that she could be there
when he arrived. She also had not planned to spend the entire night with
him. She thought she would slip away in the dark hours after he fell
asleep. Now she was faced with two choices, formal attire or near nudity
as she made her get away.
She dressed quickly in her gown. She spent several moments looking for her shoes under the bed until she recalled they were in the living room. She grabbed her wrap and padded down the hall to retrieve the final piece to her wardrobe puzzle. She sat down and was beginning to slip her sandals on when she heard the lock tumble. Donna froze.
Josh entered his apartment carrying a small bag, a cup of coffee and a copy of The Post under his arm. He stood silent for a moment as he observed her.
"Hi," she said uncomfortably, feeling like she was caught intruding.
"Okay, one of us is inappropriately attired for this moment," he smirked. "I'm betting my pay check that it's not me."
“I was, uh, just on my way out,” she replied, trying to keep her voice casual.
Josh set the items on the counter and tossed his keys beside them. “In that?"
"I was trying to be discrete," she explained.
"Discrete?" he repeated then fixed her with a stare. "You know that it's mid morning and evening wear is... well, for evening?"
"It was this or this," she said waving her negligee briefly.
Josh fixed her with a thoughtful, appraising expression. Donna waited for more of a reaction. None appeared to be coming.
"I forgot to bring a change of clothing,” she said. "I mean, I didn't plan on being here so long that I would need to wear clothing. I mean, other clothing. To go home in. I.... I slept later than I...."
“Poor planning will sink a campaign," he said in a tutorial fashion.
"Yeah," Donna responded, unable to read his mood. "Is something going on?"
"It's called breakfast," Josh replied, opening the bag on the counter and pulling out a bagel.
"Breakfast?"
"You've heard of it before," he said as he walked past her and headed to the living room to turn on the TV.
"Okay," Donna said as she watched him carefully.
When he did not return, she went to the counter and found another bagel and a smaller cup of coffee in the bag. Both were warm and welcomed. Cautiously, Donna repaired to the living room where Josh sat ignoring his breakfast as he read the paper and simultaneously watched MSNBC. She sat on the couch several feet from him, chewing on her bagel.
"Are you just going to stay here like that?" he asked without looking at her.
"What?" she said startled. She began to feel intrusive again and stood quickly. "No. I was just leaving. I... I'll just..."
"Go put on something else," he said casually. "I noticed last night that you picked up in my bedroom. Find some sweatpants and a T-shirt or something--you probably know where they are better than I do now."
"You want me to change my clothes?" Donna remarked, surprised by the offer.
"You start dressing like that on a Sunday morning to eat a bagel and it'll go to your head," Josh said still reading. "Next thing you know, you'll be wearing a tiara at the office. I have a hard enough time keeping the staff in line; the last thing I need is a princess complex thriving right outside my door."
"What?"
"Change," he said, looking up and meeting her eyes. "If you're staying, you've got to wear something else. You make me nervous wearing that dress. I feel like I'm late for something."
"Oh," Donna remarked, relaxing and feeling slightly foolish for her earlier panic. "You wouldn't mind?"
"Anything other than the ball gown, please," he replied. "I'd even prefer the thing there," he gestured to her negligee, "except I'm trying to concentrate here and that might be distracting."
Donna looked at Josh, who returned to his reading. He was neither upset nor shocked to find her at his apartment still. He made no mention of wanting her to leave but was inviting her to stay. She let a small smile appear on her face. The relationship, such as it was, seemed to be starting on a different path. Donna didn’t want to get her hopes up – this was Josh after all -- but his behavior reaffirmed her decision that she had more than just a job in Washington.
“What are you looking at?” Josh asked as he flipped a page.
“I was just thinking about Wisconsin," Donna replied.
“Whatever,” he shrugged. "Don't rearrange anything more in my bedroom."
*****************
Monday
The Oval Office
8: 16 a.m.
The staff plodded through their daily early morning meeting with the President, catching up on what had happened in the last 24 hours and what, if anything, they were expected to do about it. Josh's presence was unremarkable--though all were glad to see him. They were more pleased still to notice what was absent: the constant tension between he and the President that had existed for many months. Where it went and why it went, none knew--least of all Josh. But all would have agreed, they were glad it was gone.
“So House is recinding immigration by not having the funding for programs," Bartlet summarized after Josh finished his briefing. "Not the most creative approach."
As he spoken, Charlie entered the room and handed Leo a note.
"No, sir," Josh said. "I'm sitting down with Congresswoman Avery about her bill to patch the funding in the interim."
"Okay, what else you got?” Bartlet asked his Chief of
Staff.
Leo put his reading glasses on. “Early this morning,
Eastern Standard Time, a U-2 spy place crashed south of
“Any casualties?” CJ questioned as she wrote the
information down on her notepad.
“Four - no fatalities,” he replied. “The pilot was
injured, along with three civilians on the ground. Damage was heavy to a house
and a repair shop.”
“Just one pilot?”
“Yeah,” Leo nodded. “The U-2 is a single-seat,
high-altitude, reconnaissance aircraft. It’s capable of providing highly
detailed imagery in all conditions and at any time, day or night.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
“The Pentagon will have more information later this
afternoon,” Leo ordered.
"What about the trade conference?" Josh asked.
"For now, we're still going," Leo said.
"Should we...," Sam began.
"Work with CJ and get a statement that says we're going but that doesn't mean we have to if we decide not to," Leo said.
"An unequivocal definite maybe," Toby remarked. "Not a problem."
“Good,” Leo nodded.
“What’s next?” Bartlet asked.
“A couple of the major financial institutions reported a
slowdown in the ATMs over the weekend,” Sam offered. “The problem was
minimal and was up to normal operations by late Saturday.”
“Well, good thing people had access to their money,”
Bartlet smirked. “Imagine all the cheesy souvenirs that wouldn’t have been
purchased over the weekend.”
“You mean you didn’t like the collector’s plate of your
likeness?” CJ asked. “I heard that it was one of the top sellers on The
Mall.”
“No,” he replied. “I am not a fan of The Franklin
Mint.”
“Anything else?” Leo asked.
The staff shook their head.
“Excellent,” Bartlet rose.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” the group replied as they
rose. They were on their way out the door when they were stopped.
“Did I tell you what my wife gave me as an Inauguration
gift?” Bartlet asked as he rounded the desk. “By the looks on your faces my
guess would be no.”
“What if we say yes?” Toby said.
The President glared at his Communications Director. “Then
you would have already answered it rather than try to bluff your way through my
question.”
“You blew that one,” Josh whispered to the speechwriter.
“Something to add, Josh?” Bartlet asked.
“Not any more, sir,” he replied.
“Good, because I’d hate to think I was interrupting
something,” Bartlet continued. “As
I was saying, Abbey had our home movies transferred from video to DVD format.
Amazing how much you can fit on that one little disc.”
“Technology boggles the mind,” CJ said flatly.
“I’m going to choose to ignore that,” Bartlet said.
“I’m also reconsidering inviting you to view some of the footage.”
“Is it just CJ you’re not going to invite?” Josh asked
skeptically.
“Why?”
“Well, I too made sarcastic comment in regard to you
film,” he said. “I think it
only fair that I be punished as well and deprived of the pleasure of your
entertainment. Fair is fair, sir.”
“Is that so?” Bartlet remarked flatly.
“I had a less than gung-ho thought,” Sam offered.
“Does that count? Because if so, then I really should be banished.
Since we’re all being… fair.”
“Mr. President, I think the staff…,” Leo began then
stopped and shook his head. “No,
you guys are on your own here. Never mind, sir.”
“Well put,” the President nodded. “With Abbey and the girls’ permission, I’ll be
screening some parts of the movies Friday.
You are all welcomed to join me.”
“Welcomed?” Toby repeated.
“Is that an order as in ‘you’re welcome if you want to keep your
job’ or ‘you’re welcome to avoid it like the plague should you choose to
do so’?”
Bartlet eyed him carefully.
Toby grimaced painfully and wondering when he had picked up Josh’s lack
of poise in the Oval Office.
“I will, of course, be there early for any anecdotes you
would like to impart in great detail before the showing,” Toby said in
response to the President’s stare.
“Good,” Bartlet replied.
“As for the rest of you...”
“We’re not worthy?” Josh offered hopefully.
“No, no," Bartlet replied quickly. "Let’s
just say I want you to become as fascinated at the amount of information you can
fit onto a disc.”
“Sir?” Toby continued.
“Yes?”
“Permission to strangle Josh?”
Bartlet waved them out of the room. “I don’t care what you do to him, just not in the Oval Office.”
Up next, Chapter 4