Title: HEAVEN AND HELL, The Prince of Darkness (Chapter Seven)
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 us from one series to the next.

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

I Street

Georgetown

Friday, 7:50 p.m.

    "Donna!"

    Donna stopped in her tracks as she recognized the voice calling to her in the wind and rain swept darkness. She shot a quick glance at Zoey who looked supremely guilty in a well-intentioned way. Donna's curiosity over Zoey’s recent phone call and its stilted conversation became clear. Donna shifted her umbrella to her other shoulder and walked faster into the driving rain.

    "Donna, stop," Josh commanded.

    "Go away," she replied as she stood still but refused to turn around.

    "Hey, Josh," Zoey said brightly. "You're soaked."

    "Thank you," Josh said, nodding at her briskly, not having heard a word she said.

    He stepped in front of Donna, blocking her path.  Zoey was right, Donna noted. He was indeed drenched. His trench coat was soaked; the water blistered and dripped from his face and hair. 

    "I thought you were working," she said coldly.  "I'm on vacation.  Whatever it is...."

   As Donna looked at him, something struck her as odd. It was his eyes. They lacked that light, that devious glint, that cocky self-assuredness that was both his greatest asset and his Achilles Heel.  For a moment, Donna worried. She was certain something had gone devastatingly wrong and ceased her verbal jab.

     "Donna, please," he pleaded, as she paused.  "Listen to me."

    She sighed, angry with herself for being drawn in again. Not caring about Josh was nearly as difficult as caring about him.

    "I don't have to do anything," she said flatly. "I told you; I'm on vacation. Whatever you need, ask someone else to find it for you.  You have plenty of employees to give orders to.  You're good at it.  It's what you do best."

    "Okay, I deserved that," he relented.  "I want.... I need to talk to you." 

    "Well, I don't want to talk to you," she countered and tried to step around him. "I think you said all you needed to say."

    "But I didn't," he argued, grasping her elbow to keep her from fleeing.

    "That's really not my problem," she said as she jerking her arm free as she began to walk away. "Good bye."

    "I don't care if you're mad at me," he called after her in beseeching tones. "Just tell me I haven't lost you!"

    Donna halted her exit, his words still ringing in her ears as loudly as the rain which fell from the sky like sheets of lead, pounding onto her umbrella and the ground with a fierce rumble. She turned slowly to face him. The expression on his face was as dire as his heart wrenching words.

    "You've more than earned the right to walk away from me," Josh said. "If I've lost you, then that's my fault. I'll have to find a way to live with it, but if the last week and a half is any indication, then I don't know how I'll do it.  You're not an easy person to get over, Donnatella Moss. I've been through hell several times in my life, but I think this is the first time I've actually been scared. I just...  Donna, I'm sorry."

    She stared at him, fighting every instinct to wrap her arms around him and hold him and tell him it would be all right. She swiftly reminded herself that this was Josh Lyman, the self-proclaimed man-myth-legend; the man who would never change; a politician and spin doctor who was too good at getting his way. Donna was through with being the one who compromised and got her heart broken each time. What Josh wants no longer matters, she told herself.

    She conjured her most nasty tone and prepared to sink his contrived effort to have an after hours playmate to satisfy his libido.

    "Sorry?" she repeated as harshly and frigidly as she could manage. "Really? Sorry for what?"

    Her condescending stare cut through him and stabbed at his heart.

    "I'm sorry for...," he paused and searched the inky sky for an answer. Finding none, he gazed back at her face and all the hurt there which he knew was his fault. "For everything I've never done for you."

    His words caught her off guard and broke her stony expression. She looked past Josh to Zoey who was standing within earshot and blatantly eavesdropping.

    "Josh, this is not the place," Donna said in a hushed voice.

    "I don't care," he said.

    "Me either," Zoey called, grinning brightly.  "Pretend I'm not here at all."

    Donna stepped closer to Josh and whispered sternly to him.  "You're unstable."

    "Well, I'm in love with you so draw your own conclusion," he said in an even tone.

    "You're what?"

    "I love you," he said, surprised to hear the words tumble out of his mouth. "To hell with it--with everything else. All that matters to me right now is you. Donna, don't leave me. Please, I'm asking; I'm begging.  I can’t lose you.  I won’t."

    Donna bit her lip. The sound of the rain and the splash of the deluge that poured down from the sky on them seemed farther away. There was a lump in her throat as she tried to speak, stopping her words. Josh reached into the breast pocket of his coat and withdrew a piece of paper.

    "It's a plane ticket—well, an itinerary, actually," he said handing it to her. "If we hurry we can just make it."

    "Wha... what?" she stammered.

    Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper. It swiftly buckled as drops the size of quarters pelted it from above as she tried to read.

    "I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness," he promised. "This is not a bribe; this is a proposition.  Just let me plead my case. If by the time we land, you still want nothing to do with me, then you've just gotten a round trip ticket across the Atlantic and a hotel room to yourself--free of charge; no strings attached."

    "You want to have a private discussion... on a commercial airplane?" Donna surmised.

    "Frankly, I like my chances better if you can't walk away from me," Josh said honestly, then added quickly and contritely.  "It's only stacking the deck slightly."

    "What?" she said absentmindedly.  "No, Josh. I.... I can't. I'm not prepared; I don't have my passport; I don't even know if I want...."

    "You're bags are packed and on their way," he said, handing her a blue booklet that had been in his pocket with the itinerary. "Here is your passport. My car is parked around the corner. Donna, please come with me."

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

Reagan National Airport

8:52 p.m.

    Charlie handed over the luggage he had brought to the airport in his role as the willing co-conspirator in the operation. He smiled widely as Donna hugged him briefly and whispered a word of thanks for retrieving her things from her apartment.

    "Have a nice vacation, Donna," Charlie said warmly.

    "I don't know if it will be nice," she said. "But I'm not passing up a chance to go here for free."

    "Well, at least try to enjoy yourself," Charlie offered with a sage look and firm nod.  "I checked the weather and this is a good time of year in the Mediterranean."

    "Is there a bad time of year?"

    "Not really," Charlie shook his head.  "You should hurry.  You'll be boarding soon."

    Donna grabbed her bag and walked toward the ticket desk to check in. Josh hung back for a second to offer his appreciation to the President's Personal Aide.

    "I owe you," Josh said.

    "I feel like I owed you," Charlie said. "And before you disagree, let me say I meant because you were the one who hired me in the first place. This job changed my life. Making a few phone calls and delivering a bag was the least I could do in return."

    “You drove to the airport with a bag of women’s clothing,” Josh said.

    “You might say it’s been a dream of mine,” Charlie shrugged.

    "You've done more than you know," Josh said simply as he shook Charlie's hand and bid him good-bye.

    Charlie turned and began to walk away when Josh realized he had forgotten one thing.

    "Wait!" Josh shouted as he pulled an envelope from his backpack then ran to stop Charlie. "Can I impose upon you one final time?"

    "Sure," Charlie said suspiciously.

    "Give this to Leo," Josh said handing him the letter.  "And, about my office.... Never mind.  Leo will have someone deal with it."

    Charlie noted that Josh's shoulders seemed to drop slightly and his expression lost some of it's excitement as he released the envelope from his grip.

    "Sure," Charlie said cautiously placing the envelope in his pocket.  "What is this?"

    "Thanks for everything, Charlie," Josh said. He nodded once then walked away to join Donna.

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

Chief of Staff's Office

Saturday morning

    Saturday morning dawned hazy, hot and humid. The air was thick and filmy with the day's coming weather. Leo sat in his air conditioned office and sifted through his mail with a grumble. With the explosion of wireless and paperless technology, it seemed his office was inundated with an exponentially increase in paper communication. He had dreams of starting a bonfire with the excess pages that could be seen all the way back in Boston.

    Traffic that morning was a new level of hell as road crews were working their summer hours and found rerouting traffic on a moment's notice was not only their legal right, but also a perverse pleasure they invoked whenever Leo attempted to find a new route to the office. He envied Josh his apartment's location. Living within a reasonable walking distance to a Metro stop was yet another thing Leo would put on his list of "Reasons To Be Annoyed With Josh Today."

    He did not like torpedoing his Deputy’s vacation plans any more than he liked being annoyed with the man--but both were easy and necessary this week. Leo knew Josh needed a break, but sacrifice was part of the job description. Leo admitted to himself that maybe he had been a little too terse the previous evening, but Josh was used to that. He had taken his share of Leo's wrath in the past (a vast majority of it duly earned). And he wasn't a sensitive kind of person who would feel his position with Leo was threatened in any way; he knew were he stood with Leo and that Leo trusted him more than anyone else on staff.  Leo knew he wouldn't need to apologize for his outburst--though he was certain he would because it was the proper thing to do and yelling at Josh always made him feel guilty the same way he felt when he had punished Mallory unduly when she was a child. Not that Josh would want an apology; he didn't expect such things. Josh was, despite his hot-headed tendencies, a reasonable man who took chaos in stride. That's why Leo's confidence in the man was virtually boundless.

    "Good morning, Leo," Bartlet called.

    The President entered from the Oval Office. He was dressed casually in a pair of faded jeans and short-sleeved Notre Dame T-shirt. He held a newspaper folded in his hands.

    "Good morning, Mr. President," Leo replied as he stood. "What are you doing here this early?  There's nothing on the schedule until 11."

    "There was a beautiful sunrise this morning," Bartlet explained as he took a seat opposite Leo. "After that, I caught up on some reading. Cleve Patterson is pushing to increase the cost of dog licenses. And he wants to create one for cats, too."

    "Who?"

    "Cleve Patterson," Bartlet said again, holding up the paper. "He's on the Manchester City Council. He wants to increase the cost for a family to have a dog or to own a cat. Can you believe that? I understand the concept of licensure of animals, but really. There just seems to be something wrong with a man who wants to prevent a kid from having a pet. He must be from out of state originally. Patterson doesn't sound like a New Hampshire name."

    "Whatever, sir," Leo said as he returned to his correspondence.

    He came to a simple white envelope with his name written across the front. The handwriting looked familiar. He turned it over and saw a signature scrawled across the seam.

    "What's this?" he murmured.

    "What's what?" Bartlet asked.

    "This," Leo said, slitting the fold. "It's from Josh.  I was a little rough on him last night."

    Bartlet chuckled.  "It's probably a pledge never to incur your wrath again."

    "I just don't see this worship complex you seem to think he has," Leo shook his head as he pulled the single page out of the envelope.

    "Worship is not the right word, I agree," Bartlet explained.  "What was it Brennan called him?  My shield and my sword?  That's more accurate.  He'd fall on his sword for you without hesitation.  You can't tell me you don't know that."

    "I know it find it impossible to believe he finally mastered the art of brevity," Leo remarked as he started to read. "But if this is the education break down, I'll kill him...."

    "There's precious little he wouldn't do for you," Bartlet continued.  "Nor you for him, I suspect.  Which is why I wanted to mention..."

    "Huh?" Leo said, not hearing the President as absorbed the brief message.

    "You and Josh...."

    Leo blinked hard then reread the few short sentences.  He looked in the empty envelope for... something, anything that would explain what he was reading.

    "What the hell," Leo growled and slapped the letter onto his desk top.  "That crazy son of a....!  Margaret!"

    "She's not here," Bartlet remarked.  "She's with Debbie getting the....  Leo, what is it?"

    Leo grabbed his phone and stabbed at the digits until the extension in Josh's office began to ring. There was no answer. He next tried Josh's cell--same luck. He tried the pager and finally his home phone number in vain as well. He next dialed the Communication's bullpen.

    "Sam, get in here," Leo barked and dropped the phone back in its cradle.

    Bartlet regarded him with raised eyebrows

    "Leo?"

    "This time he has done it," Leo muttered as he read the letter again. "He’s lost his mind for real."

    "Leo?"

    "You're not going to believe this, sir,” Leo sighed as he handed over the letter.

    Bartlet took the letter and placed his glasses upon his face.

To: Leo McGarry, White House Chief of Staff

From: Joshua Lyman, Deputy White House Chief of Staff

Leo,

It is an honor and a pleasure to serve both you and President Bartlet. In any other circumstance, I would gladly do everything in my power to fulfill my duties to you both. I am forever in your debt for every opportunity you have graciously offered to me.  

I have placed the needs of this administration first at all times. Timing is everything in politics, and in this instance you have asked me to make a sacrifice I feel is too great. You gave me two options, and this is my choice.

Therefore, effective immediately, I hereby tender my letter of resignation as your Deputy Chief of Staff.

Sincerely,

Joshua Lyman

  Bartlet sighed and shook his head as he read the memo.  Sam suddenly peered around the doorway with a cautious and expectant expression

    "Get in here," Leo barked.

    "Good morning, Sam," Bartlet said cheerfully.

    "Good morning, Mr. President," Sam replied with equal energy.

    "Did you see the sunrise this morning?" the President asked.

    "Yes, I did, sir," Sam said. "I think if the haze burns off we will be having a lovely day."

    "I don't know about that, Sam," Bartlet said. "It was a beautiful sunrise, but there was a lot of red in the sky. Red sky in the morning, farmers take warning. I think we're in for another storm."

    "Folk meteorology is fascinating," Leo said flatly. "Sam, where the hell's Josh?"

    "He left," Sam said.

    "In more ways than one," Leo said. "When and to where?"

    "Yesterday and South Carolina, I believe," Sam answered. "What's up?"

    "Find him!"

    "Now?"

    "Would later work better for you?"

    "No," Sam said chastely. "Is something wrong?"

    "Always," Leo said firmly.

    Sam ducked his head and left the office on his mission.

    "What's this he mentions about you giving him two options?" Bartlet asked gesturing to the letter still in his hands.

    "It's the final evidence that Josh is as crazy as we all fear some days," Leo said.

    Bartlet chuckled and shook his head. Leo failed to see any levity in the situation. His deputy had lost his marbles and flown the coop over night. In addition to his anger over having his orders expressly denied by a trusted member of his staff, Leo was also growing worried. As stated in the letter, Josh's life always took a second seat to the needs of the administration. A golfing excursion should not have prompted this kind of reaction unless something else was quite wrong. It had been a long time since Leo had worries of this kind regarding Josh.

    "When I get my hands on him," Leo said gnashing his teeth.

    "You sound like a father who's child has blown curfew," Bartlet observed.

    "Raising this staff has never been easy," Leo grumbled.

    "Especially when they grow up and make their own decisions," Bartlet offered with a chuckle. "Leo, you don't have to..."

    "Mr. President, this is not a joke," Leo said. "That idiot..."

    "Which idiot?" Bartlet queried. "Josh or Sam?"

    "For the moment, I'll stick with Josh," Leo replied. "Sir, he's not joking."

    "No, I would expect not," Bartlet agreed. "Which is why I was trying to say..."

    "Leo," Sam said breezing into the office, waving a cell. "He canceled."

    "Canceled?"

    "Yeah, his trip--the vacation he had planned," Sam said, concern seeping into his voice. "I called Chris Wick; he said Josh canceled on them yesterday morning. The thing is, I saw Josh last evening and he told me he was leaving on his trip.  I don't know where he was going, but he was in a hurry."

    "Great," Leo sighed. "We gotta find him. Call..."

    "Already did," Sam said, shaking his head. "No luck."

    "Who?" Bartlet asked.

    "Donna," Sam and Leo answered in unison.

    "Well, that settles things," Bartlet said sagely.

    "How?" Sam asked. "There's no answer at her apartment. I asked Bonnie if she had seen her and she seems to think Donna was going to be on vacation as well; she mentioned something about visiting a friend in Pennsylvania this week. What's going on?"

    "I don't know," Leo said tightly.

    "It won't be easy to track him down, Leo," Sam informed him as he looked at the phone and other device in his palm again. "He's gone completely incommunicado."

    "What?"

    "His cell and his pager," Sam said.  "These are them.  I found them sitting on his desk."

    "Wonderful," Leo moaned.  

    "I’ll go see if I can..."

    "Yeah," Leo grumbled toward Sam.  "Do that."

    Sam exited the office quickly.

    "That was a nice touch," Bartlet said slowly as he nodded.  "Leaving the technology behind.  He must be going through withdrawal without them."

    "Sir, this is nothing to be impressed by," Leo insisted.

    "I disagree," Bartlet said easily.  "I'm quite impressed.  It's been a long time since I've seen Josh do anything with this kind of gusto.  It's invigorating."

    "You mean infuriating," Leo offered.

    "No, I don't," Bartlet shook his head.  "There is more forethought here than you give him credit for, Leo.  I'm certain the heartburn it's giving you was unintentional, though on some level I find it wonderfully satisfying."

    "Sir?"

    "Leo, call off the search party," Bartlet said as he rose from his chair. "When he returns you can sit down and talk with him, but go easy on him.  This was not a decision he made lightly."

    "Sir, this is not something I can ignore," Leo objected. "He's... He's gone nuts."

    "I agree it appears a bit rash, at least in part of his decision," Bartlet said folding the letter.  "But you know better than I do that Josh believes impatience is a virtue."

    "That's an understatement," Leo seethed.

    "But it appears, my good man, that you helped out," Bartlet continued as he placed the letter into his pocket. "You apparently gave him some options, and he chose one. That it is not the one you would prefer is a discussion for another time. We'll deal with it later. For now, tell Sam to call off the search. Josh is coming home on next Sunday; his plane lands around 6 p.m."

    "How do you know that?" Leo asked.

    "Same way I know where he is, when he left, and why he went," Bartlet in a scholarly tone.

    "You had the Secret Service track him?" Leo asked.

    "Better," Bartlet said with a quick grin. "I have Charlie."

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

Saturday, 11 a.m.

Athens, Greece

    The sun bounced off the diamond blue ocean. Donna looked at the sights and sounds around her. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself in Greece and certainly not under these circumstances. Despite Josh’s words in Georgetown, very little talking was done between them during the trans-Atlantic flight—at least nothing of any substance.  Donna was still confused as to why she was asked here—even more confused as to why she accepted.

    A knock on the door snapped her from her daydreams. She made her way to the door and looked through the spy hole. Josh was waiting on the other side.

    Donna opened the door. “Hi.”

    “Hi,” he replied. “Your room okay?”

    Donna nodded. “Yeah. You booked two?”

    "Yeah."

    "Oh, okay," Donna nodded.  She was glad and yet saddened by the fact.  "Um... why?"

    "I was being realistic," he answered with a shrug.

    "Well, good," she answered slowly.  "I mean.  I'm glad.  That is..... It was the right thing to do."

    "Sure," he agreed.  "Uh, can I...."

    "Oh, yes," she said realizing she was making him stand in the hall. "I'm sorry.  Please, come in."

    Josh entered the room and surveyed the layout.  It was a large and bright room with lots of light flooding in from the bank of windows dressed in a white gauzy material that fluttered in the mid-morning breeze.  This was the main room in the suite, he knew from the reservation details.  There was a bedroom to the left and a set of double doors directly across the room leading to a balcony that was supposed to have a breathtaking view of Athens.

    "So the room’s okay?" he asked again casually.

    "Okay?" she marveled.  "Have you looked out the window?  Josh, I have Athens.  It's right there.  I almost didn't dare to fall asleep when we got here.  I sat on the balcony and watched the.... well, the outside for an hour.  I could just sit there for a week."

    "Kind of defeats the purpose of being here," he pointed out.

    "I said I could, I didn't say I would," she answered promptly.  "How's your room?  You're down the hall and on the other side.  What do you see?"

    "The other side," he said simply.  He honestly hadn't looked and considering that he had booked a suite for Donna and a single room for himself, he doubted there was much of anything to see from his one window.  

    "I... uh, I slept in," she confessed.  "I just got dressed.  You've probably been up for a few hours.  Sorry."

    "No," he lied.  "Not that long.  I was you know…. So, you're staying?"

    She hesitated before answering.  That was the other thing that kept her up well after they checked into the hotel.  A free trip to Greece with no obvious work-related reason was a gift she wanted to take advantage of; however, there was the Josh question to answer.  He had not said much on the flight.  She had expected him to do as he said and plead his case.  However, he merely apologized one final time and then started a conversation about Greece and history.  It was a fascinating discussion that she enjoyed greatly; Greece being the birthplace of Democracy, it was something Josh knew quite a bit about; Donna's knowledge of the place was more in the realm of mythology--something about which Josh knew little.  The flight to London was uneasy for her as she expected him to discuss the confession in Georgetown about his feelings.  However, not long after they took off from Heathrow Airport on their way to Athens, Donna had fallen asleep.  

    Josh had said little on the ride to the hotel.  She was surprised when they were assigned separate rooms and even more taken aback when they parted for the night with a simple good night in the hallway.  So she had stayed awake to sort out her feelings.  She had no more answers by morning.

    "Yes, I would like to stay," she said simply.  "On one condition."

    "What?"

    "Have you eaten yet?" she asked.  "I'm starving and if I don't eat soon, I'm going to hurt someone."

    "We've got plans," he said.  "Grab something to throw over your shoulders."

    "Why?"

    "We're having lunch near the water," he said.  "Mark said it's a little breezy."

    "Mark?"

    "Mark Reed," he answered.  "He's a friend."

    "Do I know him?"

    "No, but you probably met his father at the office," Josh said as he headed toward the door.  "Milo Reed.  He's the Pennsylvania lawyer who..."

    "The one who sued the state to get the recount," Donna nodded.  "His son lives in Greece?"

    "He works for us," Josh said.  "He's with State--sort of."

    "Sort of?"

    "Yeah, I really don't know what he does precisely," Josh said.  "Mark just....  Well, he does things.  Oh, word of warning.  He got married by accident once..."

     "By accident?"

     "Sort of," Josh shrugged.  "He had just gotten divorced the first time and....  He celebrated or commiserated.... badly."

     "And he's your friend?"

     "We went to college together," Josh said.

     "He's a lawyer?"

     "No."

     "So he's like you," she surmised.

     "No, he's.... I'm a lawyer," he replied, the perturbed dimple welling up in his cheek.  "He's ridiculous."

     "No wonder you're friends," she said plainly and headed toward the door.

     Donna slipped into her sweater as the two left her room. They rode the elevator down to the lobby.  Donna continued to marvel out loud about the hotel. When they reached the lobby, Josh signaled the concierge to hail a cab for them. The man nodded and swiftly exited the revolving doors. With three quick gestures, a cab swiftly came to a stop in front of the hotel. The concierge opened the cab door. Donna entered first, followed by Josh. Josh gave the driver address and they were on their way.

    The cab weaved through the streets of Athens. Donna wasn’t new to erratic cab drivers, but the driver’s actions made her slightly edgy. The traffic eventually eased as the car made its way out of downtown and towards the coastal area.

    “I can’t believe I’m here,” she remarked. “Look at this place.  Do you see this?”

     “Yeah, I see buildings and sky and cars,” Josh remarked.

    “You would,” she shook her head.  “I mean, look at all this.  It’s so old and historic and then right in front of you something new and technological.”

    “’Cause that’s nothing like it is at home,” he remarked.

     “We don’t have anything this old in Washington,” she said.

     “Not since Senator Thurman left, no,” he agreed.

    The cab screeched to a halt in front of the restaurant. Josh paid the driver and the duo exited. They stopped at the entrance of the restaurant and Josh informed the host about their reservation. The gentleman nodded and escorted Josh and Donna to an outdoor area to where their lunch companion waited with a bottle of wine.

    The trio sat and enjoyed the delicious local cuisine. Mark enlightened Donna on the history of the area, which Donna matched his with some trivia of her own. Josh interjected when he could.  Many of the topics devolved after several minutes into a verbal sparring between the two men about who was more inept similar issues.  Through the discourse, Donna received a handful of small bits of information about Josh that she could tell from his expression he wished she didn't know.  Mostly, she was entertained.  She didn't feel as though she was on a luncheon date nor did it feel like a business meeting.  She wasn't sure precisely what was going on, but it was a fun way to spend an afternoon, Donna though as she chuckled upon learning that it was Mark’s fish (dear, dear Rosemary) who earned her two companions placement the special Dean’s list and near expulsion from Harvard.

    Once lunch was complete, the trio parted ways. Josh and Donna then ambled around the seaside area, soaking in the culture. They stopped every few feet to step inside the shops. Donna picked up a few tiny trinkets for herself and her mother along the way. She marveled at how casually Josh was during the entire excursion—even as they returned to some shops that they had visited previously. Donna lost track of time and only checked her watch when her stomach informed her of her hunger. They had been touring the area for seven hours. They grabbed a quick snack and headed back to the hotel, arriving as the sun started to set.

    Donna place her keycard into the slot and opened the door. Josh entered behind her holding her bags.

    “You want to head out again and find some...”

    “No,” she said quickly.  “I mean, I’m all walked out, but I’m hungry too. Is room service included with my vacation?”

    “Only if you order it,” he answered.

    “Okay,” she said as she flipped open the menu.  “Would you like to.... join me?”

    “Sure, order something for me,” he shrugged.  “I’m going to go to my room—see if I have any messages. I’ll be right back.”

    “Sure thing.” Donna picked up the phone and ordered.

    Josh knocked on her door a few minutes later. “Okay. Room service will be here in ten minutes.”

    “Good,” he said, stifling a yawn.

    Donna picked up the phone again. “Maybe I should cancel.”

    “What?”

    “The food,” she explained. “You look beat.  Is something going on back at the office?”

    “No,” Josh said.  “I’m just not used to...”

    “Relaxing and not working all day?”

    “You’re just full of witty repartee tonight aren’t you?”

    “I blame it on the sea air,” she smiled.  

    “Well, then that’s probably what’s getting to me,” Josh said rubbing a stiff spot in his neck.  “The fresh air.  It’s probably bad for you.”

    “Your neck bothering you?” she asked with concern.  “Come here.”

    “I’m fine.”

    “Sit,” she said firmly and pointed to the edge of her bed.

    Josh knew the tone well.  It was the one she used for the better part of three months in the late summer and early fall of 2000 when she became the self-appointed warden overseeing his recovery.  There was no arguing—at least no successful arguing—with that tone.  With a sigh of defeat, he did as commanded.

    Donna knelt behind him and began kneading the muscles in less than gentle fashion.  Josh’s protests and cries of pain had no effect on her mangling motions.  He wondered aloud if she was getting some revenge on him for things he had said to her after Earl Brennan’s funeral.  She neither confirmed nor denied the accusation.

    “Your silence leads me to believe you’re essentially pleading nolo contendre,” Josh observed as she released his flesh from her vise-like fingers.

    “Only if you agree you’ve been a jackass,” she offered.

    “Stipulate it.”

    “Dragging out the lawyer talk for any special reason?” she asked.  

    “It helps me block out the pain,” he answered, rubbing his neck which was less stiff but infinitely more sore.  “Can I just say that it’s a good thing you never majored in physical therapy?”

    “Well, at one time....”

    “Don’t,” he cut her off.  “Please, just don’t.”

    “Fine,” she grinned as the knock on the door signaled their meal had arrived.  “Let’s eat on the balcony.  I love the view.”

    Donna answered the door and had the table brought to her requested spot.  After the porter left, she grandly whipped the covers off the plates to reveal her orders: hamburgers (one incinerated nearly to the point of charcoal) and fries.

    “Finally come around to my idea of health food?” he asked.

    “This is my concession,” she said.  “I may have said some not so nice things to you... or about you in the last few days.  This is my way of saying, I’m sorry.”

    “By ordering food you constantly explain will kill me,” he remarked.  “And having me pay for it?”

    “Be quiet or you don’t get fries,” she warned.

    They ate in casual silence. The sun sank into the sea and leaving the sky a brilliant pink.  Donna pushed her plate away, noting that she had eaten more than Josh did.  She could see there were things on his mind.  She suspected it was related to whatever was going on at the White House.  She had looked at a newspaper headline-one of the few she saw in English—that afternoon and nothing seemed blazingly wrong in the world.  She figured that was why he was not on his cell phone every 20 minutes.  So, rather than ask him what the problem was, she decided to take full advantage of the concept of vacation.

    “Donna?” Josh said, breaking her from her trace.

    “Hmmm?”

    Rather than answer, he reached over and wiped a glob of ketchup from the corner of her mouth.  It had been driving him nuts for several minutes.  Donna blushed with embarrassment, more so when she laughed and believe she had snorted like a pig.

    “I can’t take you anywhere,” he shook his head.  “Think maybe you could muster up basic manners by tomorrow evening?”

    “You told me at lunch that we’re going to the vineyards tomorrow morning,” she said, recalling his promise earlier in the day.  “What’s in the evening?”

    “I don’t know,” Josh said, standing and preparing to leave.  “Mark said he had something you’d like.”

    “I think I know what you mean when you said ‘Mark does things,’” Donna remarked.  “So, don’t take this the wrong way because I thought he was charming, but I’m sort of worried about not having more details than he has something.”

    “I doubt he’s staging a coup,” Josh assured her.  “He’s got tickets for something.  A show or a performance, I guess.  He’s a mid-level diplomat.  He’s used to entertaining the families of important people so he’s got access to things.”

    “I actually think I may have something to wear,” Donna said.  “Whoever packed for me, and I’m kind of afraid to ask, so please don’t tell me—because if it’s Charlie I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again knowing he’s folded my bras—apparently made sure I was prepared.”

    “It wasn’t Charlie,” Josh said.  “Your ex-roommate.”

    “Oh,” Donna responded.  “You got her to...”

    “Actually, Charlie did,” Josh said.  “She never liked me much.”

    “True,” Donna nodded and caught a glare from Josh that said he didn’t need confirmation of that.

    “Charlie just retrieved your bags and brought them to the airport,” Josh said as he walked to the door.  

    “Okay then,” she nodded relieved.  “Are you leaving?”

    “Yeah,” he said simply.  “I’m tired.  We’ve got to be on the road pretty early tomorrow.  Better set your alarm.  Good night.”

    He closed the door without a backward glance.  Donna stared at the now empty room with confusion.  

    “Good night,” she said belatedly and shivered in the breeze.

    *****************

Washington, DC

Oval Office

7:35 a.m.

     “This is a sad day, Leo,” Bartlet said as his Chief of Staff entered the Oval. “A sad, sad day indeed.” 

     “I’m sorry sir?” Leo asked. “I haven’t been briefed on any tragedy. What happened?” 

     The President placed a newspaper on the desk. “The Old Man.  He’s gone.” 

     “Sir?” 

     “The ‘Old Man of the Mountain’,” Bartlet explained. “The symbol of New Hampshire collapsed over the weekend. Centuries it stood, Leo. And in an instant,” he snapped his fingers, “it was gone.” 

     Leo picked up the paper and placed his glasses on his face. “It says that only cables and epoxy were left.  That's pretty much gone.” 

     “Can you believe they tried using epoxy to keep the ol’ guy up there?” Bartlet posed. “Glue, Leo. They tried to keep it up there with Elmer’s Glue!” 

     “I think that the glue was stronger than that, sir,” Leo quipped. “Says here that Governor Benson wants to revitalize it and is looking for donations.” 

     “Donations,” the President scoffed. “I can just bet I’ll be getting a call in the next few days. I never thought I’d see the day when that piece of history wouldn’t be there.” 

     “Amazing,” Leo said, placing the paper down. “Now, Mr. President, about…”

     “You know,” Bartlet ignored Leo, “I’m reminded of what Daniel Webster wrote: ‘Men hang out their signs indicative of their respective trades; shoemakers hang out a gigantic shoe; jewelers a monster watch, and the dentist hangs out a gold tooth; but in the mountains of New Hampshire, God Almighty has hung out a sign to show that there He makes men.’”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “Millions of tourists visited Franconia,” he continued. “Right there above the interstate, he stood watching over us.” 

     “Yes, sir,” Leo repeated. 

     “You know that they’re having a memorial service for him,” the President pointed out. “I should send a letter--like a sympathy card but nothing that tacky.” 

    "Sure, something tasteful like: Sorry your rocks fell down," Leo said dryly.

    "I'm hearing more sarcasm than sympathy, Leo," Bartlet chastized.

     Leo sighed. “Sir, while this is indeed a sad day for you and the State of New Hampshire—and by extension everyone who has to speak with you--I really must suggest that we handle the real matters of, you know, the nation right now.” 

    “I’m not still not sensing remorse, Leo,” Bartlet warned. 

    “Good because I’d hate to think I was going to shed tears over fallen rocks,” Leo offered.  “What’s done is done and they want to fix it, right?  They’ll slap some plaster of Paris up there, and it will be as obtuse as new.  You can compose your letter after lunch.” 

     Bartlet stared at his Chief. “Leo, are you saying that I shouldn’t care about what’s going on in my state? I’m the President of the United States; I should care about not only my state, but every state.” 

     “And I’m certain you do,” Leo answered. “This landmark’s collapse was, I guess the word I'm looking for here is tragic--yes--but it’s not going to halt people from touring the state. And I wish the people of the White Mountains well in whatever they decide to do with their rubble. However, we have to talk about the nominations for the 7th Circuit, the upcoming trip to Germany and the revamping of HR 279.” 

     “Yeah, you’re right, but I don’t have to like it,” Bartlet conceded.  “For the rest of the day, I’m not going to like you either.” 

     “I’ll learn to live with that,” Leo nodded.

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

Communication's Bullpen

Monday, 7:39 a.m.

     “I simply don’t believe this,” Toby grumbled as he made his way towards his office. “Can you believe this Bonnie?” 

    “No,” Bonnie replied. “Believe what?” 

     “Hell is freezing over,” the speechwriter stated. “Moreover, I’m in it. I am living in hell. Five years I’ve been at this job and there were times where people have told me to go to hell, but I never thought I was actually in it.” 

     Sam stepped out of his office. “Hey, can I talk to you?” 

      “You are talking to me,” Toby said curtly.  

     “Yeah, there was a change in the schedule,” Sam said.  “I’m staffing the President today.” 

     “Because Josh is on vacation,” Toby added.  “This is not a change.” 

     “Well, it is because Josh wasn’t going on vacation,” Sam explained.  “What’s going on?  When you just came in?” 

     Toby tossed a newspaper towards his deputy. “Read the highlighted part.” 

     “Okay,” Sam said as he pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket. He began perusing the article. “Well…that’s, uh, that’s rather…” 

     “It’s ludicrous!” Toby fumed. “He’s making it sound like he single-handedly won this election for us.” 

    Sam nodded. “Yes, well…you know how Congressman Murphy can be.” 

    “A pain in the ass,” Toby grumbled. 

    “I was going for grandiose, but okay,” Sam continued to read aloud the article in question. “‘I knew it in my heart that the people of Georgia wanted me to vote for Bartlet…’” 

    “That’s President Bartlet,” Toby said succinctly. 

    “‘And once my vote was cast, I was certain that my fellow Congressmen would vote their hearts as well as the will of the People,’” Sam concluded. 

     “Check Josh’s wall,” Toby snarled.  “Murphy wasn’t with us.  Check it.” 

     “Well, I would except that was five months ago and he’s sort of picked up things since then,” Sam informed Toby.  

     “Oh,” Toby remarked.  “Well, we have notes, right?  Check those.  And didn’t we… I mean, there’s an article somewhere, I’m sure, and it shows that Murphy wasn’t ours.  Georgia didn’t even end up in our column.” 

     “I know this,” Sam said.  “I’m not sure why you’re blaming me for it, though.” 

     “Because you’re here!” 

     “That seems unreasonable and rash,” Sam said understandingly as he nodded. 

     “Yeah,” Toby sighed.  “What was that about Josh and vacation?” 

     “He was going to cancel his vacation,” Sam explained.  “So I wasn’t going to staff the President this week.” 

     “But you’re staffing him again?”

    “Yeah.” 

     “So he left?” 

     “Apparently,” Sam nodded.  

     “I needed this briefing why again?” 

     “You were in California with the union thing over the weekend and I thought I would keep you in the loop,” Sam said. 

     “Thanks,” Toby sighed.  “Murphy’s on Capital Beat tonight?” 

     “Yeah,” Sam said.  “I should go.  The Ag. Secretary is coming in….” 

     “For the thing,” Toby nodded.  “Don’t let him argue about new subsidies.” 

     “That’s the only reason I’m there,” Sam said as he turned to leave. 

     “Anything else?” 

     “Just that I have no proof, but I think Josh quit.” 

     “Okay,” Toby said and sat in his chair as Sam departed. 

     Toby started to reread the article in front of him then stopped.  He looked up then yelled. 

     “Sam!” 

 *****************  

Athens, Greece

Monday, 7:58 p.m.

   Donna had arrived at the theater in the car sent by Mark.  She had received a message from Josh to take the car and meet Mark in the lobby.  She was curious as to why but saw no reason not to follow the direction.  After meeting Mark, she casually observed the other patrons waiting in the lobby during the cocktail hour before the ballet was to begin.  She kept an eye on the door.

    "Looking for something special?" he asked noticing her interest on the doorway.

    "Just wondering when Josh would be getting here," Donna said mildly.  

    "I'm not sure when he's arriving," Mark said casually as he lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing porter.  "He said he had a thing."

    "A thing?"

    "Yes," Mark said, handing her one glass.  "I've noticed that Josh isn't found of informative nouns.  I always recall him as being someone with a vocabulary.  When did that change?"

    "Before I met him," she sighed, watching the bubbles creep up the sides of the glass.  "He pawned me off on you, didn't he?"

    "Would you rather return to your hotel?" Mark asked.  "I can..."

    "No, I want to see this," she said.  "I just thought that he... Well, since we're here that he'd want to...  I don't know why I thought that.  Josh never goes anywhere with me; I mean, unless its for work purposes.  Apparently that holds true no matter what country we're in."

    "I've always known he was a sorry excuse for a gentleman" Mark assured her as the lights in the hall were flicked on and off three times..  "He's just not civilized enough, but I like him anyway.  I've never quite figured out why though.  Well, that's our cue to be seated.  Best to forget about Josh for now.  He'll be along eventually."

    Donna nodded and resolved to enjoy the performance despite being sent away by Josh.  His behavior was erratic and disconcerting.  He flew her half way across the world to spend time with her, yet he was still maintaining his own room and made no move to change that set up.  He was aloof in discussions at times and the look in his eyes said he was fixed on something more important than sightseeing.  It gave Donna a queasy feeling in her stomach if she thought about it too long.  So, rather than ruin her entire evening with worry, she settled into her seat as the lights in the theater dimmed and the orchestra began to play the dancers onto the stage.

    By the intermission, she had nearly forgotten Josh was not there.  By the end of the performance, she no longer cared.  After three curtain calls, the audience departed the theater.  Donna felt like she was floating.  She was so entranced by the performance that she did not notice Mark bid her good night and depart.  She was mildly surprised to find Josh standing beside her and directing her to the car he had waiting.

    "Oh, you did show up," Donna smiled.

    "Disappointed?"

    "Actually, I don't really care," she said warmly.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "I meant that but not...," she said flustered.  "I'm glad you're here, but it was fine without you.  I was just thinking that, as I entered the lobby.  See, at first I was mad you weren't here.  Then, after a little while, I was glad you weren't.  You would have ruined this for me."

    "I would?"

    "The moment you realized there would be no rebuttal period or that no one had bats or would through out an opening pitch," she said confidently as she climbed into the car.  She paused while Josh ordered the driver to return to the hotel.  "You wouldn't have enjoyed the ballet for one second.  You would have sat there every second waiting for it to be over, and I would have known that and it would have bothered me.  Without you, I didn't have to worry about that.  I loved every second of it; I didn't want it to end.  Once I realized that, I was glad you weren't there."

    "Thanks," Josh said, mildly dejected.

    "No, thank you," Donna beamed to reassure him.  "This was good.  It reminded me of something.  We don't like the same things."

    "We don't?"

    "Not always," she said easily.  "It's nice to remember that I can do something I liked without you and still enjoy it.  That means a lot to me.  I had kind of forgotten that that is how it should be."

    "Okay," Josh said warily.  "I think."

    "So are you all done with whatever?"

    "Whatever?"

    "Yes, whatever it is that kept you away from here," Donna answered.  "I'm guessing it was a marathon call to Sam or Leo.  Did you commandeer someone's office at the embassy or did you run up a three thousand dollar phone bill at the hotel?"

    "Do you care?"

    "Not especially," she shrugged.  "I like Mark."

    "You do?"

    "Yes," she grinned, thinking of the proper way he bowed and kissed her hand.  "He's very suave."

    "It's an act," Josh said flatly.  "This is the same guy I watched scale the wall of a freshmen dorm wearing women's underwear on his head at 10 in the morning."

    "Why were you watching?"

    "I'm the one who bet he couldn't or wouldn't do it," Josh said as though the answer should be obvious.  "Best ten bucks I ever lost."

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

The White House

1:30 p.m. Monday

CJ Cregg's Office

    CJ tossed the remnants of her salad into the trashcan and started reading her phone messages.  Before she was half way through the stack, she was startled by Sam's voice.  He entered the office without knocking and began speaking without preamble.

    "So I've been mulling this whole thing over," he announced as he took a seat on her sofa, uninvited.

    "You have?"

    "Yeah," he nodded.  "Here's what I think.  There's something going on."

    "With what?"

    "With Josh and Leo," Sam said affirmatively.  "I told Toby how I thought that Josh resigned."

    "Like you told me this morning and I asked Leo who shook his head and rolled his eyes," CJ answered.  "Since I didn't make any announcements from the podium and no one asked me about it otherwise, I think it's safe to say Josh going on vacation isn't the same as Josh resigning."

    "That's the thing," Sam replied.

    "What thing and before you answer, let me request you not speak to anyone at all for the rest of the day if possible because I'm not sure you're ready for adult conversation today," CJ said with a tight expression.

    "Leo was mad," Sam informed her.  "He might not be saying anything right now, but he was mad on Saturday. He was mad at Josh.  I thought it was because he didn't like the education report and I was fine with that until I remembered that I wrote it mostly.  Then I was hoping he thought Josh wrote it.  Then I recalled that he hadn't read the report because I was still polishing it.  So, you know where that left me?"

    "Talking to yourself on the Metro?"

    "With a suspicion," Sam continued oblivious to her jab.  "Leo was mad at Josh.  I don't mean his typical 'Josh are you nuts' kind of mad, which isn't really mad it's just Leo being frustrated with Josh but at the same time being kind of impressed by him no matter what he's done.  Which is kind of nice sometimes and I wished that I..."

    "Sam. you're drifting into shallow water," CJ informed him.

    "Right," he nodded, getting back on track.  "Leo was mad.  The worried kind of mad.  The kind we haven't really seen from him since, you know, the whole thing with the guy and the plane."

    "So?" CJ interupted.  "He's the Chief of Staff.  He's got things on his mind."

    "He was looking for Josh and couldn't find him," Sam said.

    "Which would explain the anger," CJ simplified.  "It's nothing, Sam.  They'll kiss and make up when Josh comes back from South Carolina.  Maybe he'll bring Leo a T-shirt or a key chain."

    "But I'm wondering if maybe it was a front," Sam continued.  "Like a cover up to make me think he was mad Josh was on vacation.  What if Josh isn't vacation?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "I'm not sure what I mean, but he left his pager and his phone on his desk," Sam said.  "Charlie allegedly delivered some note to Leo.  Margaret said Leo tried to call Josh's mother."

    "You think something happened to him?" CJ asked with concern.

    "I don't know," Sam replied. "I was thinking more that he was doing something that we're not supposed to know about and had done some part of it without telling Leo.  I mean, Josh is on the inside of things pretty often.  I don't know that there's a thing going on, but maybe he does.  So you've got to wonder, what could it be?  Usually we're aware, at least, that there's a thing out there.  This time, I didn't know there was a thing.  But if there is an none of us know it, we probably shouldn't be talking about it."

    "That's the most logical thing you've said yet," CJ sighed.

    "But now I'm thinking you might be right," Sam offered.  "What it there's something wrong with Josh?  He wasn't looking all that great the last week or two.  I don't think he was sleeping much.  He seemed... not himself.  Kind of depressed.  Josh doesn't get depressed though."

    "Everyone gets depressed," CJ argued.

    "Not Josh," Sam countered.  "CJ, I've known him a lot longer than you.  I've worked with him and seen him during the worst parts of his adult life.  Even after the shooting, he didn't get depressed.  The guy walks around believing he's living on borrowed time.  That makes him slightly neurotic about some things, but he doesn't get depressed.  So what was it this time?  Something bad.  It would have to be."

    "Don't worry about it, Sam," CJ shook her head.  "Toby and I spoke to Leo this morning, and he said that he had nothing to say about Josh.  That's good enough for me."

    "There's a flaw," Sam announced, still wrapped in his own discourse. 

    "Just one?"

    "Leo didn't know where he went," Sam said, recalling that part of his Saturday.  "He was looking for Josh and asked me to find him.  He didn't know where to begin looking."

    "Asking Donna's usually a good start."

    "Can't," Sam shook his head.  "She's gone to Pennsylvania to visit a cousin or something.  When Josh scheduled his vacation, she figured it was the only time she'd get the chance to not be here so she made arrangements.  There's this mall that has a shoes store where they...."

    "Sam, how do you know any of that?" CJ asked amazed at the detail.

    "She was a little blue all last week so Ginger suggested she take some time," Sam explained.  "They got to talking and Donna mentioned about the shopping trip.  I wasn't exactly eavesdropping.  I was listening from my office."

    "Where no one could see you?"

    "I was just making sure she was okay," Sam said.  "I think Donna finally realized that while I'm a great guy, I'm not her guy.  She seemed to be taking it pretty hard.  I sort of avoided her all week and I think that got the point across.  I didn't like breaking her heart, but it had to be done.  So when she was talking to Ginger, I felt bad.  I wanted to console her, but I didn't want to give mixed signals so I just listened from afar."

    CJ shook her head in amazement.

    "Wow, are you deluded," she said finally.  "Tell me something: Where are you on the Easter Bunny?"

    "CJ...."

    "No, Sam," she cut in.  "Listen to me and believe me.  Donna did not love you.  She never did.  If she thinks of you at all, it's as a friend.  She had a boyfriend--one outside the office.  She fell pretty hard for him, but he dumped her."

    "Really?"

    "Really," CJ nodded.  "She told me about him.  Well, not exactly told me, but I got the bare details.  He was some guy who works in DC.  I got the sense that he was new to the city; she indicated he was all gung-ho about the DNC and the President and he thinks I'm top drawer in the press room."

    "Yeah, obvious novice," Sam nodded sagely and received a dagger glare from the Press Secretary.

    "Whatever he is, he didn't sound like a big time politician to me," CJ recalled.  "She never told me his name, but I got the feeling from her description and her expression that he wasn't ready to make their relationship public.  I thought that maybe he was intimidated by where she worked.  Either that or she was afraid Josh would scare the hell out of the guy and ruin things for her.  Look, the only think I know for certain is that a few weeks ago she was so happy she was giddy.  Then she came in to work one day and that was all gone.  I could tell from her face that the louse had cast her aside.  She took this one hard, Sam.  This guy she actually loved."

    Sam nodded, taking in her words.

    "So she really didn't have a thing for me?" Sam asked.  "Even a little?"

    "Get over yourself and get out."

    Sam departed sporting a puzzled expression.  CJ was certain he was trying to figure out how Donna had not fallen madly in love with him.  She was also sure he was going to search for further theories as to why Josh took vacation and didn't come into the office to working during that vacation.

    Her own thoughts were stuck on Donna's mystery man.

    Who could he be?  He's not anyone elected or even that high up working for someone elected.  I'd have heard about that.  I should have listened more closely when she was talking.  Still, what I remember from Donna's sketchy description was that the guy sounded green, like an untainted idealist.  Those don't last long in this town.  Except maybe Toby.  Or Sam, on occasion.  But they 're only like that with certain subjects.  

    Or maybe it's that Donna saw something in this guy that other people don't see.  That would makes sense.  She's more apt to give someone the benefit of the doubt.  God knows she's fallen for enough conservative Republicans.  It's like her loyalty to Josh.  I mean, talk about seeing a diamond in the rough; I like the guy well enough, but I could never work for him.  But Donna?  Even at his demonic worse, she'd argue why he was almost a saint.

    Carol said they weren't talking last week. I hope for his sake that he wasn't a part of her break-up.   If he ruined this for her, she might never forgive him.  That would probably kill him.  He's more fond of her than he even knows.  But he had his own thing going on.... Unless he ruined that--which is likely because he never keeps anyone for that long.  Now, if his love life when down the drain, there's a chance he'd have done is overbearing boss from Hell bit and....  

    Strange, though.  Both of them being gone.  I know he's been planning this vacation for two months, but....  Sam did say Josh told him he had canceled his golfing trip.  His deputies say he's on vacation as far as they know.  Donna is gone, too...

    Interesting.  What if they...

    No.  Now, I'm thinking like Sam.

    But it.... Well, not that it makes sense, but it sort of tracks.  I mean, what if they both had these bad break-ups and decided to...  Commiserate together?  That's... No, Josh always suffers alone--has all his life.  He never shares with anyone when he's feeling like that.  Unless, Donna somehow talked him into....  She does have a way of getting through to him.  So maybe....

    "CJ," Carol called as she entered the room.  "You're up in two minutes.  The two o'clock briefing, remember?"

    "Right," she said, grateful for the interruption.  "Do me a favor.  Don't let me sit and think along for the rest of the day, okay?"

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

Washington, DC

Monday evening

Communications Bullpen

    “In his own little world, yes,” Toby replied. 

    “Tell me again why we have Congress?” Sam asked rhetorically, as Congressman Murphy continued his self-aggrandizing interview. “With Murphy around, it’s amazing we need anyone else to run the country.” 

    Toby rolled his eyes at Sam then turned up the volume on one of the televisions. 

    “So you’re basically saying, Congressman, that you were the principal player in getting the President reelected,” Mark Gottfried questioned. 

    “Now, Mark,” Murphy chuckled, “I wouldn’t say I was the principal player. The people of the great state of Georgia are the principal players here. And I voted the way they wanted me to.” 

    “We lost Georgia,” Sam pointed out. 

    “The President lost Georgia in the general election,” Mark repeated. “It seems to me that they, in fact, did not want to vote for the President.” 

    “Not every person voted,” the Congressman explained. “And it truly was a shame. We, as the Democratic Party, should do more to encourage everyone—whites, blacks, all people to vote. And that will be one of my personal agendas during the upcoming months.” 

    “You shouldn’t be a member of the Democratic Party!” Toby yelled. “You’re a schmuck!” 

    “Congressman,” Gottfried continued. “You’ve broached the subject of race.  Reading in this morning’s paper I see that there is a report out of your district that several high schools will hold two proms this year – one integrated and one that is for white students only. Do you think that that is a step backwards to segregation?” 

    The Congressman paused. “Let me tell you this, Mark. The Federal government should not get involved in a situation such as this.”

    “Please no,” Toby sighed and rubbed his forehead while the Congressman answered.

    “This is up to the local school board,” Murphy continued.  “If they want to have two separate proms, then who am I to question such a thing?” 

    “Oh god,” Sam groaned. “Don’t go there, Congressman.  Ginger, find CJ.  Now.” 

    “Congressman,” Gottfried pressed. “The Atlanta Journal-Constitution is quoting one student as saying ‘There will be blacks at this prom—they gotta have somebody to serve the food.’ What are your thoughts on that?” 

    “No,” Toby pleaded to the screen. “You redneck, half-wit.  Do not.....” 

    “He’s not wrong,” the Congressman stated simply before Toby could will him to shut up. 

    “Someone get Leo,” Toby said in a stern and strained voice.  “Quickly.” 

  ****************

Athens, Greece

Tuesday morning

    Josh and Donna leisurely strolled along the sidewalk of their hotel. She was told this morning that they were going to eat breakfast at a nearby café that came highly recommended by Mark’s mother. It was late enough in the morning that the residents had already partaken in their daily morning routine, leaving it open to the tourists. The hostess guided them to a quaint table outside.

    Josh began to find something suitable to his taste to eat, while Donna marveled and the plethora of choices available.

    “What’s good here?” she wondered out loud. “Oh, I see strawberries.  Crepes?  They have crepes?”

    “It’s legal to serve them outside of France,” Josh responded.

    “I know that,” she replied tartly.  “I happen to love crepes.”

    “They’re anorexic pancakes,” he commented.  He received a look that matched her previous tone.  “Fine.  One word of warning, coffee in this country is lethal.”

    “Strong?”

    “It can strip the patina off the Statue of Liberty,” he said.  “I’d recommend tea.”

    They ordered and Donna read the map provided by the concierge to see where they were going.  The vineyard was not that long of a drive outside the city.  A trip to the vineyard and a mysterious social outing in the evening?  Her basic question from the plane remained unanswered.  She tried a new tactic in her search for answers: asking.

    “Josh,” she asked abruptly. “Why are we here?”

    “We’re eating breakfast,” he informed her as he slid his sunglasses on and scanned the newspaper the waiter had brought.

    “I didn’t mean the I,” she countered.  “I meant here.”

    “Is this a philosophical thing because we’re in Greece?” 

    “No, I’m not pondering the great question of existence,” she answered.  “I meant why did you bring me to Athens?”

    He shrugged.

    “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he replied as he continued to read.  

    “I meant...”

    “You said you wanted a break and wanted to get away from Washington,” Josh cut her off.  

    “When did I say that?”

    “All those times you didn’t think I was listening,” he replied.  “So, here you go.  This is away. And before the interrogation starts again, Athens literally was first place that popped up when I did the ticket search.  It was an alphabetical thing—mystery solved.  Well, that and since I knew Mark was stationed here, I figured he could score tickets to something if you wanted to see a show or whatever.  He does things.”

    “I’m guessing since you keep saying that...”

    “Saying what?”

    “Mark does things,” she answered.  “I’m guessing it’s part of some inside joke that I don’t care to know.”

    “Safe bet,” Josh nodded confidently with the hint of a smirk.

    “Well, whatever your reason was for choosing here, I thank you,” Donna said gratefully.  “I would never have thought of coming here, but I’m glad you did.”

    “This is my way of... thanking you for the countless thankless things you’ve done for me for so long,” Josh said mildly.  “Don’t feel like you have to run around and play tourist.  If you don’t want to....”

    “Can we see the Parthenon?  The Acropolis?” Donna asked.  “I mean, up close.  I know Mark said they’re tourist traps and over crowded, but I don’t care.  Can we see them tomorrow?”

    Josh hesitated before answering.  She didn’t like the furrow in his brow.  He had other plans or didn’t want to go to such places.  Then, as if resolving some inner debate, his expression changed suddenly.  She suspected he intended to pass her off to one of Mark’s minions while he claimed rights to some office in the Embassy to get back to work.

    “Before we leave, we’ll go,” he said simply.

    “What about the beach?” she asked.  “We’re right by the coast.  I can’t not go to the beach.”

    “That’s another day,” he said.  

    “It is?” she asked suspiciously.  She never liked Josh withholding information from her, though she knew in his professional capacity it was a necessity at times.  

    “Yeah,” he said as the waiter arrived with their breakfast.  “Now eat your pathetic pancakes.”

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

Washington, DC

8 hours later

    CJ sat at her desk and began to comb through the mountain of memos, reports and transcripts that Carol had placed there throughout the day. The first few were uneventful—a memo regarding the upcoming Easter activities and a report about consumer confidence. The transcript, which Carol had highlighted green and wrote “Must Read,” caught her eye. It was a transcript from a local Mississippi radio show with Representative Kevin Maskell (R-Miss), chairman of the House Rules Committee. 

Interviewer: There has recently been a lot of talk about the comments made by Congressman Darren Murphy of Georgia.  What is your reaction?

Maskell: The Congressman is entitled to his opinion, no matter how misguided it is.  For years the Republican Party as been the one shackled with allegations of racism.  Perhaps that was true at one time, but no more.  We are intelligent and fair-minded.  To malign my Party with this only stereotype is no different than assuming that Mr. Murphy’s bigoted opinion is one shared by Southerner’s in general.  I would hope that those in the rest of the country and now see what we here in South have known for years that here in the south—the new south—we are no more backward than President Bartlet’s merry men.

Interviewer: By merry men you mean who precisely?

Maskell: I mean no disrespect to the ladies on his staff—they were included in my comment generally.  Not a true southern among any of them, I might add.  I was, however, referring specifically to the individuals who—unlike Mr. Murphy—were the real force behind the President’s re-election.  They’re Yankees so sometimes their names escape me.  But mark my words; the DNC is now certainly scrambling behind the scenes to wipe this dirt kicked up by Democratic Congressman Murphy off of their faces.  The Democratic Party’s tactics are like a textbook.  They’ll be shoring up their investors—for they are in the pocket of most of Hollywood and all things that claim to be liberal.  At the same time, they need some political action on behalf of the White House.  I know these people and I am certain that they send out the Jewish Wonder Twins to make it all kosher again for their friends.  One will be on the Hill doing his henchman act to keep his people in line, and the other one will be scribbling into the wee hours making sure every ever Democrat in the District has only pretty things to say and makes damn sure they all keep their distances from the unfortunate Mr. Murphy.

            “I… I…,” Toby stammered as he read the transcript CJ had handed him.  

            “That’s about where I was 10 minutes ago,” she said, taking the pages from him and handing them to Will Bailey, the newest writer on the speech staff.  “McAuliffe made sure the wires had this an hour ago.” 

“You’re just showing it to me now?”  Toby growled. 

“I just got it 10 minutes ago,” CJ assured him.  

“Where’s the President?” Will asked as he read the transcript. 

“Behind closed doors the rest of the day,” CJ replied.  “Sam is staffing him.  It’s a full schedule.” 

“He’s nowhere near the press the rest of the day?” Will asked. 

“Not unless they storm the Oval Office,” Toby sighed. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Ron Butterfield’s guys have that under control,” CJ responded.  “I suppose it goes without saying; we keep this away from the President.” 

“You think?” Toby snapped. 

“Hey, I didn’t say this,” she reminded him.   “So, what’s our comment?” 

            “Our comment?” Toby repeated. 

            “I think she’s right,” Will offered.  “We need to say something.” 

            “Well, thank you for that,” Toby said.  “I just entered politics six minutes ago and wasn’t sure what play to call here!” 

“People under estimate your sense of humor,” Will said. 

“Give me that,” Toby said, snatching the pages from Will’s fingers.  “Maskell really said that?” 

            “Yeah,” CJ said flatly.  “Can I tell you how surprised was I to find out that you and Josh are like closet superheroes?” 

            “Where is Josh?” Will asked.  

            “Vacation,” CJ said. 

            “Not for long,” Toby replied.  “He’s gonna see this and….” 

            “I don’t think so,” CJ disagreed.  “He’s playing golf.” 

            “And that means what?” Will asked. 

            “I don’t know,” CJ shrugged.  “It just seems that every man I know who plays golf doesn’t let anything interrupt him.” 

            “Those are, you know, normal men with regular and exceedingly unimportant jobs,” Toby snarled.  “Mark my words, Josh will not….  He’ll be on my phone in half an hour with about 90 suggestions and an ETA for returning in under four hours.” 

            “You know this for certain because?” CJ asked. 

            “Because this,” Toby replied slapping at the pages on his desk, “deserves no less, and I know Josh.” 

            “So you really do have Wonder Powers?” Will ventured. 

            “Next time Sam goes for his sissy coffee, I want him to take you and leave you there,” Toby replied as he looked at his watch and then his phone.  Twenty-nine minutes, he thought.

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

Athens

11pm

    The lights of the city twinkled like miniature diamonds in the midnight blue sky. Donna and Josh had just finished an after dinner drink with Mark and were preparing to leave the club.

    “How far are we from the hotel?” she asked.

    “Uh, less than a mile or so.”

    “Can we just walk back instead of getting a cab?” she asked. “It’s such a beautiful night and Mark said it's safe here.”

    “You sure?” Josh asked.  "I mean about wanting to walk?  I don't care if...  Never mind.  Let's go."

    Donna looped her arm through Josh's as they headed in the direction of the hotel.  The streets were still filled with people, due primarily to a world cultural festival that was taking place that week in this district of the city.  Cites, sounds and smells of various backgrounds filled the air.  Josh took the scene in with a passive expression.  Donna noted that it was the same guardedly blank expression had had been sporting for the last three days.  It concerned her in that it meant there was something troubling him but he wasn't prepared to discuss it.  That, coupled with the distance she felt he was putting between them bothered her.  She vowed she would take a crack at ending that this evening.

    "Beautiful night," she said to start conversation.

    "Huh?"

    "My shoes are on fire," she offered.

    "What?" Josh asked as he turned to look at her.  "Oh, funny."

    "Thank you," she smiled easier and shivered unconsciously.

    "Are you cold?"

    "No, I'm fine," she replied.  “The wind just picked up, that’s all.”

    Josh took off his coat and draped it over her arms.  She pulled the fabric around her and inhaled the familiar scent.  She slipped her hand into his and made simple conversation about the evening.  Josh had little to add.  His aloof demeanor seemed to get stronger as the night continued.  Donna was not sure what game he was playing or what scheme he was hatching, but she did not like it.  She didn't think it was punishment for the cold way she treated him when they were in DC a week prior, but it felt that way all the same.  She was determined that this night would be the last she would see such behavior.  She was going to turn on what she thought of as her Miami charm to set things right again.  She formed a simple plan as they walked to the hotel.

    “We’re here,” he informed her as they arrived at the front of the hotel. They entered and waited for the elevator.

    So many questions were swimming inside Donna’s mind that she didn’t know which to ask first, if any. The elevator stopped and Josh escorted Donna to her room.

    “Okay,” Josh began. “Meet me in the terrace cafe tomorrow around 10 a.m.”

    “Oh, you're... going?” Donna sighed strategically.  "Now?"

    “Yeah,” he answered casually.  "Why?"

    "I don't know," she said grinning coyly as she leaned toward him and ran her hand along the buttons of his shirt.  "I thought that maybe you might want to.... come in for a while."

    “No, I really should go,” Josh said, stepping back and retrieving his jacket from her. “You should get some sleep.  Good night, Donna.”

    Donna's lips trembled as he walked away.  Donna lowered her head in defeat and let herself into her room.  He had turned her down twice since their arrival in this foreign land.  She wasn't altogether certain what it meant, but all of the possibilities saddened her.

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

Midnight

The White House

    The Chief of Staff took off his glasses and rubbed a hand over his weary eyes.  The everyday circus antics of Congress were keeping the story of Congressmen with loose lips on both sides of the political spectrum on the back burner for some news organizations, but he knew that was only a matter of time.  A host of African-American groups were flaying the reputation of the Democrat's fool while a new and powerful voice was descending upon his Republican counterpart.  Rabbi David Schulman was proving to be an articulate and popular pundit in this debacle.  So far, the White House had sidestepped commenting.  

    However, polls were showing a growing general public interest in both Congressmen Murphy's and Maskell's comments.  The White House's "no comment" stance would not hold much longer.  To that end, Sam was working on the President's response to Murphy's comments.  Toby had opted to hand Maskell's debacle to Will Bailey--for now.  The Communication's Director seemed at a loss, staring at phones for the last day or more, expecting a call that would not come, Leo was regrettably sure.

    "Kids these days," the President remarked dryly as he poked his head into Leo's office.

    "Mr. President," Leo greeted him, buttoning his jacket as he stood.  "In case you're curious, no one on staff has figured out a way to say that our two news makers are just what they appear to be: idiots."

    "I can't tell you how reassuring I find that," Bartlet remarked.

    "I still can't believe in this day that we have two guys that stupid elected to that office," Leo shook his head.  "You'd kind of think the body politic would have digested them already.  They've got 30 years of service between them."

    "Even the prince of darkness appears to be a gentleman," Bartlet quoted.

    "Yeah," Leo said flatly, not looking for a discussion based in literary quotes.  "I thought you'd gone to bed."

    "I did, but I thought Abbey might want to see this passage Charlie quoted to me from Thomas Jefferson about the rights of women," Bartlet said, gesturing to the book in his hand.

    "You started a fight with her and said something sexist?"

    "Well, that's her version," Bartlet sighed.  "When Charlie said it to me, I didn't think it was worthy of a tongue lashing or being called sexist."

    "You've never had Charlie's finesse," Leo said.

   "I suppose not," Bartlet agreed.  "I was just thinking, this isn't even my book.  If I had given it to the person I intended it for, this never would have happened.  If you want to blame Josh for something, you can use this.  I intend to."

    "Sir?"

    "I got this book for him after the election, but I never seem to give it to him," Bartlet explained.  "He always changes the subject before I get around to giving it to him.  He's fond of Jefferson for some rather obtuse reasons and I thought this volume might be appreciated.

    "What I meant was why do you think I'm blaming Josh for anything right now?" Leo asked.

    "Well, that is what you're doing, isn't it?" Bartlet asked, taking a seat.  "You're stewing about Josh.  Don't say you're not.  I know that look.  That's your Josh is vexing me look.  It's different from the one you have for Sam or CJ or Margaret or me, for that matter."

   "He picked the worst week to fly the coop on me," Leo admitted.

    "There's never a good week," the President offered.  "I know there is work to be done, but you're bothered more by the fact that...."

     "That he resigned?" Leo said, completing the sentence first.  "It does lack a certain dedication to the job, Mr. President."

    "Well, there's that," Bartlet relented.  "But I was going to say that you're bothered because you're worried about him--his well-being."

    "Josh always worries me."

    "That's not what I meant," Bartlet said.  "Tell me something.  What was his father like?  I've heard about him from Josh, and it's that father worship that every father loves to hear.  But what was he like?"

    "Noah?" Leo began, as he took a seat and allowed himself a brief smile in honor of his old friend.  "He was a demon in the court room.  Of all the lawsuits filed in this country--criminal and civil--fewer than 10 percent end up in a court room.  To be a litigator--a full-time litigator--is like being a hired gun; the best of the best.  And he fit the part.  When he was in a court room, he was like nothing you've ever seen.  He was like living fire."

    "That's not the picture I get from Josh," Bartlet remarked.

    "I doubt he ever cross examined Josh," Leo chuckled.  "That was the one thing that...  Most guys are proud of their family, but with Noah was like kryptonite.  He'd be in the middle of telling you about his latest case and I'd ask, Hey how's Anna and the kid?  Quicker than you can blink he had his wallet out and would be telling you about the last report card or that he had two RBI's in his first game of the season.  He was a completely different guy.  Just as likable--more so actually--but someone else entirely.  The law was his passion, but Anna and Josh--they were his life, his world."

    "You were good friends?"

    "Yeah," Leo said.  "We didn't see each other much after I left New York, but we kept in touch.  Actually, the last time I spoke to him was about two weeks before he died.  I called to... I don't know why I called him anymore."

    "You wanted to tell him that his boy was doing well," Bartlet said.  "Josh gave up a lot to come work for us; he gave up the chance to have this office for himself.  You wanted his father to know it wasn't a mistake to pull him away from that."

    "I'm beginning to wonder," Leo scoffed.

    "He's fine, Leo," Bartlet assured him.  "He's just like his father.  He's living fire when he's doing this job.  The difference is that he doesn't have a wallet of photos to escape to when he needs a break.  Now, I'll leave it up to you to decide what happens when he returns, but set your mind at ease, old friend.  He will be back."

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

Athens

Wednesday, 10 a.m.

    Donna woke early with the same knot in her stomach that appeared there when Josh said good night.  There was something in his eyes that told her he had come to some decision.  That he didn't even entertain her invitation to come to her room was a telling factor.  She knew what he was thinking and knew what he decided.  She dressed and slowly made her way to the cafe as ordered.  She was going to take this in stride and not cause a scene.  They were shown to a table in the sunshine and ordered--not that she had any appetite.  So, rather that let the agony drag on, she started the discussion.   

  “I believe there is something we need to discuss,” Donna said, her throat tight.

    “Actually, I need to be honest with you now,” Josh said. “My motives in bringing you here were not what you might call entirely altruistic.”

    “I see,” she said calmly.

    “This is not precisely a quid pro quo, but I need... I want you to agree to something.”

    “No, Josh.”

    “No?” he repeated. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

    “I don’t care,” she said, no longer able to keep her tone calm. “I should have known! I should have known you wouldn’t do this without some ulterior motive.”

    “That’s right,” he agreed readily. “Hear me out.”

    “I don’t want to hear it,” she said, folding her arms and turning her eyes away from him.

    “Donna, you were right,” he said. “We couldn't go on like we were before; the whole office/affair thing… Well, I was thinking about it before we left the US and...  Look, there isn’t going to be an office forever so it stands to reason that…”

    “Do you know that your entire personal life is a hypothetical situation?” she observed in a nasty tone. “You float ideas and do test studies, but that’s all. I can’t believe you dragged me across an ocean so you could  break up with me again, but in a more civilized fashion.  Is it going to make you feel better?  'Cause I've got to say, it's doing nothing for me."

    "I didn't want to..."

    " I’ve discovered something about you, Josh," she interrupted.  "For you, it really is a fine line between being very smart and very stupid some days. Today, you are on the stupid side of the like if you think this trip was a civilized, neat, efficient way to end this.”

    “Did you just say my personal life is hypothetical?” he mused, sounding impressed by the description. “This whole thing was hypothetical?”

    “Apparently,” she said in flat tones. “You just ruined what was turning into the greatest week of my life.”

    “How?”

    “Well, you’re trying to tell me that you meant what you said in your apartment and that don’t want to date me anymore,” she said.

    “That’s not entirely true," he said.

    "What part's not right?"

    "Well, I was a little harsh what I said to you that day," he shrugged.

    "But you still don't want to date me," she added, the anger in her growing.

    “I hope I don’t have to,” he nodded.

    She stared at him blankly, unable to form an expression. She was appalled by what he said. She was hurt and enraged by the bored tone in his voice. In return, he offered her his contemplative look, the one he normally sported just before his self-described brilliant ideas usually tumbled over his lips.

    “What am I supposed to say to that,” she asked slowly.

    “Say you’ll marry me,” he offered.

    “You’re not being helpful,” she said through clenched teeth as she considered throwing something at him.

    “You’re not answering me,” he countered.

    “You haven’t asked me anything,” she pointed out.

    He thought for a moment, running the conversation over in his mind. He then nodded. Donna was right. He hadn’t.

    “It was implied,” he hedged. “I did make a request. Though it was couched as a suggestion in a declarative construction, it was, nonetheless, interrogative in nature.”

    “Have you been spending a lot of time with Ainsley?”

    “Donna!”

    “I’m just saying that she does that kind of backwards, comma splice conversation stuff all the time,” Donna said, no longer sure what the conversation was about. “I’m just saying.”

    “I want you to marry me, Donna,” he said, placing a small, back velvet box on the table in front of her.

    With a trembling hand, she opened the box and gazed at the sole occupant. The stone was as clear and bright as the sky above and shimmered like the lights in the city at night. She dared not touch it.

    “What’s the catch?” she asked suspiciously.

    “See," he started, grateful she had asked.  "Here's the thing....”

Up next, Chapter 8: "During Good Behavior"