Title: HEAVEN AND HELL, "During Good Behavior" (Chapter Eight)
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.

    Josh sat in the dark government sedan as it cruised through the dusky streets of the Capital.  He had received word on the plane that his presence was requested at the White House.  The driver, a man he had never seen before, met him at the gate with a stony expression and ushered him to the car.  

    Josh wasn't sure what waited for him.  He wasn't even certain who had summoned him.  Conventional wisdom held that it was the President.  But the terse message and command, while within the President's repertoire of actions, felt more like a play called by Leo.  Josh said nothing during the ride and tried not to rehearse an apology in his head.  

    They arrived at the White House and passed through security without incident.  This was an unusual route for Josh to enter the building.  It was not the formal entrance used by dignitaries or heads of State.  It was also not his typical path through the northwest lobby.  

    He was met inside the door by a friendly face wearing a guarded expression.

    "You're alone?" Charlie asked, looking at the departing car.

    "Yeah," Josh said wearily.  "It's...  I mean, she didn't....  We're... uh.... Yeah.  I'm alone."

    "Oh," Charlie nodded.  "Sorry."

    "Don't be," Josh shook his head.  "So, help me out here.  Which one...."

    "The President would like to see you," Charlie said as they started down the hall.

    "Charlie, I need an appointment badge," Josh said, stopping in mid stride.  "I don't...."

    "Josh, the President is waiting," Charlie urged him.

    Josh nodded then started walking again.

    "I was sort of expecting to see Leo," he offered.

    "You will," Charlie warned.  "I hope you had a nice trip; this probably won't be pretty."

    "Perfect end to the perfect week," Josh sighed.

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

8:30 p.m.

The White House

    Donna arrived at the office filled with curiosity.  She had tried calling Josh's apartment for nearly an hour with no luck.  It was then she realized that she had his keys.  She had driven his car to her apartment from the airport.  She thought he would have called had he returned home to find himself locked out.  She had turned on CNN and found nothing drastically awry in the nation but headed to the office anyway to see what was keeping him or to find out if he was sitting in his office trying to remember where his keys were.

    The halls were darkened and there were only a scattering of staffers about.  She arrived at her desk to find the in-box overflowing--something that made her smile and wrinkle her nose in disgust in the same instant--and Josh's office dark.  She stepped inside and surveyed the shaded room.  Something was odd.  The picture of Josh and his grandfather that had hung on the wall since their first day at the White House was laying on his desk.  She checked the hook on the back to determine if it was damaged.  Finding no problems, she returned it to its normal hanging spot.  

    She stared at the picture for a moment.  She had seen it hundreds of times, but it looked different to her now.  It was the smile, she realized.  There was something so innocent and happy in that smile.  Josh rarely smiled like that.  Nothing brought him that kind of overwhelming joy or that sense of intrinsic peace except...

    Donna shivered and felt a tightness in her throat.  She pressed her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes for a moment but was startled as the overhead light suddenly snapped on.

    "Oh my god," she gasped pressing her hand to her heart.

    "What are you doing here?" Josh asked with a puzzled expression.

    "Who?"

    "Who else is in here?"

    "So you do mean me," she nodded, regaining her composure.  "I was here and your picture must have fallen down and apparently gravitated 10 feet across the room to the desk, though I suppose someone picking it up after it fell makes more sense.  The glass didn't break and that's a good thing."

    "Donna?"

    "Keys," she said, remembering her original mission.

    "Keys?"

    "Yes," she said, fishing them out of her purse.  "I have your keys."

    "I know," he nodded.  "You took my car."

    "Is anything wrong?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "The President needed to see you," she said.  "Is it.... Do you need me to..."

    "To go home," he said.  "Disaster averted."

    "Oh," she sighed.  "Well, that's good."

    "Are you all right?"

    "This... it's kind of awkward," she said hesitantly.  "I... I feel... weird about everything." 

    "It's regret," Josh said turning off the light and leading her out of the office.

    "No, it's not," she said hurrying to catch up.  "It's not that at all."

    "It might be," he continued.  

 *****************

    Sam liked to walk the halls on quiet nights and read sections of the President's upcoming speeches to himself.  The cadence of his pace spurred his thoughts and helped him pick up typos.  He was in the middle of one of those excursions when he heard Josh and Donna's voices as they headed toward the lobby area.  Their backs were to him as they made their way to the exit.  Sam looked up and watched them as he slowed his pace.

    "Since you seem to know everything," Donna was saying as she fell into step beside Josh, "what do I do about it?"

    "Go home with me," Josh said matter-of-factly.  "When you wake up tomorrow you'll see I'm right."

    Sam's jaw dropped and he walked square into one of the carved columns buttressing and archway.  

    "What was that?" Donna asked, hearing a muffled yelp.

    "I didn't hear anything," Josh said without turning around.  "Give me my keys.  I'm driving."

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

Josh's Apartment

Georgetown

9:45 p.m.

    Josh looked at the clock and decided that he had stalled long enough.  He sighed and sat on the couch before dialing the phone.  He was not nervous to make the call.  He knew he wanted to speak with his mother yet he was hesitant.  She had a way of getting to him--not in a hostile or offensive way--but she could be emotional, and Josh never knew quite how to deal with that.  All things considered, he knew this was going to be one of those difficult calls to make.  He dialed slowly, but the phone rang promptly all the same.

"Hello?" Anna Lyman answered, curious who would be calling her this late in the evening.

"Guess what happened on my vacation?" Josh said without preamble.

"Joshua!" his mother delighted to hear his voice.  "I didn't expect a call from you.  What's the special occasion?"

Josh sighed and bit back a comment about buying her a hearing aid for Mother's Day as she had not listened to his question.  He stopped himself for two reasons: He knew he did not call her often enough; and Donna was giving him a stern stare that threatened he would be sleeping the on couch if he let the words tumble over his lips.

"I just returned from a week in Greece," he said, returning Donna's glare until her stony expression broke into a triumphant grin.

"Greece?" Anna repeated.  "As in the foreign country?"

"As far as I know, it's not one of our states, but like I said I was gone for a week," Josh said.

"Don't be impertinent, Darling," Anna scolded.  "What were you doing there?"

"Donna wanted to show off what she learned in a mythology class once upon a time," Josh replied.  "There's a reason she didn't get a degree in Greek culture, by the way."

"The President was in California last week and Idaho two days ago," Anna said, recalling the bits she saw in the evening news.  "When did he go to Greece?  I didn't see that on the news.  What's going on?"

"Nothing," Josh reassured her.  "The President didn't go to Greece.  I did... for vacation.  I took Donna."

Anna's words stuck in her throat.  Her son had taken a vacation--one that did not involve golf or baseball--away from the office for seven days straight.  The longest he ever left the White House without working was when he was recuperating, Anna recalled.  That he had done so merely for pleasure and had taken Donna with him made her head spin.  She sat down as her heart fluttered.

"You did?" Anna remarked slowly.  "Well, that's wonderful, darling, but.... Why? "

"Well, here's the thing," he began.  "I asked Donna to marry me; of course, she claims I didn't precisely ask because..."

"That's because you didn't," Donna called from across the room.  She rifled through the refrigerator looking for something to drink.

"This is a private conversation," Josh shouted over his shoulder at her. 

"Joshua!" Anna scolded.  "Please!  Are you being serious or is this one of your non-funny jokes?"

"I did ASK, in my own way," he asserted.  "She's the one who said..."

"You proposed?" Anna inquired, cutting off his rant, tears rising beneath her lids and a quiver evident in her hand as she gripped the phone.  "What did she say?"

It seemed a logical answer with Donna there bantering with him yet Anna Lyman knew too well her son's ability to still hold favor with women who no longer were part of his life. 

"What do you think she said?" Josh replied harshly.

"I never know with you," Anna replied.  "Thus the question..."

"She agreed," Josh said, biting back a snarl.  Donna was smirking behind him, he could hear it and now his mother was going to start sort of crying and that was going to make him feel awkward and embarrassed.  This was what he dreaded.

"Oh, darling!" Anna gasped.  "This is wonderful.  I'm so happy for you both.  So tell me when do you plan..."

"Hold on," Josh said, cutting her moment short.   "Don't start thinking about a wedding in the future.  There won't be one."

"What?" Anna shouted.  "Oh, Joshua!  What did you do this time?"

"Hey!" he retorted.  "Why do you automatically think I did something wrong?"

"Because she knows you," Donna said, taking the phone out of his hand.  "Anna, hi....  No, nothing's wrong.  Josh is just a very bad story teller.  It's one of the reasons CJ likes to keep him out of the press room."

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

The White House

7:48 a.m. Monday

    Sam, the lump on his forehead from the previous evening covered by a lock of hair, walked purposefully toward the Operations Bullpen.  As he did, he saw CJ approaching with her coffee in hand.  He signaled to her to follow him.  He was going to put an end to the vexing questions.

    "Man on a mission, are we?" she asked, falling into step beside him.

    "I heard something--a definite thing--last night," Sam said.  "You're coming with me."

    "I'm walking in the same general directions," she offered.  "I have an 8 a.m. meeting with Josh.  Apparently he was rehired during the overnight hour."

    "Okay, so I was wrong about him resigning," Sam relented.  "But this.... this, I know.  I heard him."

    "Everyone can hear him," CJ remarked as they approached.  Josh's voice could be heard due to slightly raised decibels behind the closed door of his office.  "He's negotiating with his nice voice today, I presume."

    "Something about the Calloway and the Commerce Committee, I think," Sam replied.  "But I'm not talking about that.  I'm talking about the other thing.  I told you what I heard."

    "Yes, you called me last night and sounded like a high school sophomore who caught the English teachers holding hands in the parking lot," she said.  "What is your fascination about this?"

    "He's got to admit it," Sam continued as they arrived outside Josh's office.  The shouting had diminished and no more noise could be heard.  "We were all suspicious for a while now…”

      “You had this brain storm at 10 o’clock last night,” CJ reminded him. 

“Right, but the deluge was quite something,” Sam insisted.  “Now, I know.  He can't deny it; it would be ridiculous to try."

                "Have you asked him seriously?" CJ asked.

“In fact, I did,” Sam replied.  “This morning, before he got into this thing with Calloway, I brought up the subject and….”

"I mean, did you honestly ask him?” CJ cut in.  “Or did you just make some snide comments and lace your conversation with innuendo?  He's a politician and a lawyer, Sam.  He spins his answers."

                "He's not a real lawyer," Sam persisted.  "He has a law degree.  That's not the same."

                "He dodged your questions," CJ said. 

                "Not any more," Sam replied.  "I'm going to get answers."

                "Why?" CJ asked.  "What's the big deal?  You heard him saying he was taking her home last night.  It's hardly the first time they've left here together, and it's not illegal."

    "So you don't think there's anything there?"

    "What I think is irrelevant," CJ said.  "I mean, yeah, I see that maybe there's.... That is, I was wondering if maybe they were...  But the point is, it's none of my business."

    "CJ."

    "No, Sam, I've thought about this," CJ stopped him.  "Okay, maybe, if there is something going on, it raises ethical questions since he's her boss, but that's really not something that worries me.  The Washington press corps sees them and the way they are all week long and it's like background noise to them.  No one cares and if anyone did care, it would be Leo's concern."

                "Leo's concern? I saw the First Lady talking to Donna earlier," Sam said adamantly.  "They were in cahoots.  I could tell.  So, what I'm saying is that it's the principle of the thing."

                "What principle?"

                "The principle of... of... you tell your friends when you....," Sam huffed in a petulant tone.  "I've known Josh a long time.  He should tell me."

                "Maybe he didn't think it was any of your business," Toby said lowly, appearing beside them and joining the conversation.  "And I really think accusing the First Lady of colluding with the Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff in covering up what you think is an office love affair is not the kind of thing you want to do, Sam.  It has the ring of a career limiting move."

                Instantly, Josh appeared in his doorway and glared across the bullpen.  He shot a glance at Donna's empty desk.

                "What's going on?"

    "Nothing," CJ said quickly--too quickly, she realized.  "We were just...."

    "Skulking?"

    "No," Sam said.  "This is...  We were hoping we could speak with you about.... non-office, office things."

    "Is this another attempt at an intervention?" Josh asked in a worried tone.  "Sam, education and concern is a wonderful thing, but you really have to stop watching the Oxygen channel."

    "Josh, it's not like that," Sam hedged uncomfortably.

    "Really," he remarked then looked around the bullpen and saw practically no work being done.  "Am I the only one who works here? As far as I know, this isn’t a holiday.  There are still many, many hours left in the working day."

                "Yes, imagine the damage we can do," Toby said.

                "Thank you, Toby," Josh said.  "That's not exactly kind of attitude I was looking for, but it's a start.  Hey, after I finished with Calloway, I got a hold of Greeley over in Senator Hannah's office about Calloway and his vote on the Transportation Bill."

                "Yes, I heard you using your compassionate voice," Toby remarked.  "Do I need to mend some bridges or perhaps surrender?"

                "No," Josh beamed.  "The Ethics Committee is holding a hearing next week on Maskell and Murphy and the Transportation Bill won't be marked up for three weeks.”

“Why?” Toby asked suspiciously.

“And Appropriations will discuss the adult literacy package as requested," Josh tacked on rather than answer him.

                "Okay, I'll ask again--with greater interest and trepidation: Why?" Toby asked, sounding like he didn't particularly care about the cost of the maneuver.

                "Sometimes you have to say to hell with beautifying the New York subway," Josh nodded--leaving out most of the details, figuring Toby would follow the logic in the Cliff Notes version.  “Especially if it causes great heartburn to the folks in Connecticut.”

                "It scares me that I understand," Toby replied.  "Jewish Wonder Twins, indeed."

    "For the record, that comment itself didn't bother me," Josh said as an aside.  "The sentiment it represented--yeah--but the actual words..."

    "Yeah, me not so much either," Toby confessed through a sigh.

    "And we don't even look alike," Josh continued.  

    "You got that?"

    "My mother confirmed it," Josh nodded.  "But about the Transportation Bill, I'll take heat on this one.  But the next time, it's all you."

    "Fine," Toby shrugged.  "I assume you won’t be welcome in my hometown or yours for while."

                “People from Westport don’t use the Subway,” Josh said.  

                “People from Brooklyn and the Bronx do,” Toby countered.

                “Well, you just need to convince them that the graffiti is modern art,” Josh said.

                "Yeah," Toby nodded.

                "Where's Donna?" Josh asked looking again at her empty desk.

                Sam shot a look at CJ then cleared his throat.

                "Speaking of Ms. Moss," Sam said.  "When are you doing to admit it?"  

    "Very smooth," CJ said lowly and patted Sam on the shoulder.

                "Admit what?" Josh asked mildly.

                "That you're having an affair," Sam said.  "A secret one.  With Donna, I mean."

                "I’m not," Josh replied.

                “Not what?”

                “Either of those things,” Josh answered.

                Sam placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder to keep him from leaving the room.

                "Raise your right hand," Sam said.  "I mean it, Josh.  Raise your right hand."  Josh rolled his eyes but raised his hand.  "Good.  In front of these witness, do you, Joshua Lyman, swear the answers you are about to give in this matter are the truth?"

                "Wow, are you having flashback or is it just me?" Josh asked.    

                "Josh."

                "Sure, why not," Josh shrugged.  "I swear."

                "Is Donna your assistant?" Sam asked.

                "Yeah."

                "We are talking about the same woman who sits at that very desk and has for every moment you worked in this office, correct?"

                "Correct," Josh said.  "I see you've done your homework, Sam. That’s very impressive.  Can you bend spoons with your..."

                "Shut up," Sam scoffed.  "Now, out with it.  Are you or are you not having an... affair with Donna?"

                "Not," Josh said instantly and raised his hand again.  "I'm not having an affair with Donna."

                "Oh," Sam said startled.  "But she went home with you."

                "Is that a question?" Josh countered with a smirk.

                "No," Sam said stumped.

                "Good," Josh said.  "I have another call to make.  If you see Donna..."

                "I'm right here," she said breezing into the room. 

                The glance that passed between them was brief but telling.  Everyone in the room saw it, much as they had for years.  The arguments were still heard; the exasperated comments; the irritated digs; and the simple conversations about life on the planet that passed between them daily.  But there was something more now, something only evident in the quickest flick of their eyes.  Sam saw it and growled.

              "You lied," Sam said.  "I knew it.  Josh!  I can't believe it.  I put you under oath, and you lied!"

              "Josh lied?" Donna asked stunned.  "And you believed him?  Someone's losing his touch."

               "Donna," Sam insisted.

                "Well, he can't bluff to save his life so you've gotta wonder...," Donna started then paused as she surveyed the speech writer's exasperated expression.  "Oh, all right.  What did he say?"

              "I asked him....," Sam said, turning red.  "I asked him a question in regard to certain.... arrangements that..... appear evident."

              "He asked if I was having an affair with you," Josh said bluntly.

            "He did?"

                "Yeah." Josh nodded.

                "You said no?" she ventured, placing her hands on her hips.

                "Well, yeah," Josh answered.  "We're not."

                She turned back to Sam and sighed.  "Well, then he didn't lie."

                "No way!" Sam contended.  "Donna, but I don't believe either of you.  No one around here does.  Okay, they're all too scared to say so, but it's true.  I can see it.  Something is different going on here--especially the last 24 hours..."

                "Actually, it's closer to a week for the officially," Donna informed him.

                "Okay, a week then," Sam paused.  "Wait a minute!  What does that mean?"

                "I have to do this," she said turning to Josh.      

                "No, you don't," he said though he was not ardent.

                "Ok, I don't but..."

                "I just meant you don't have to, but go ahead if you want to...."

                "I know what you meant," she said giving him an exasperated look that faded into a grin that stayed mostly in her eyes.

                "Would you two mind," Sam interjected. 

                "Fine," Donna said, holding up her hand to reveal the ring no one had noticed yet that morning; of course, she had been in a meeting with the First Lady since five minutes after she entered the building so there wasn't much opportunity to show off her hardware.

                "That's a ring," Sam remarked skeptically.

                "It's like working with Sherlock Holmes," CJ congratulated him then turned her attention to the jewelry.  "Okay, this is... Okay, you two....  You skipped the dating phase and went right to an engagement?  Well, that makes so little sense I can actually believe it."

                "We are not engaged," Josh offered firmly.

                "Then what is that?" CJ asked holding onto Donna's hand and gesturing toward the diamond.  "If that's a first date gift, I should have asked you out long ago."

                “Josh has no patience and therefore very little ability to wait for anything,” Donna explained unnecessarily.  "So, we skipped the engagement and went right to the ceremony.  The affair Sam is so adamant to dig up actually started last summer but technically ended when we got married.  Sorry, Sam."

                "And you call yourselves my friends!" Sam seethed.  "I don't believe this. You're not!  She couldn't; Josh you didn't!"

                "Yeah," Josh said.  "We are; she could and I most certainly did."

                Leo entered at that moment looking perturbed at the lack of business being conducted.

                "What the hell is going on here?" he asked.  "I can hear the shouting half way to the Oval office."

                "Josh and Donna!" Sam said incredulously.

                "What now?" Leo asked.

                "They're married!"

                "Yeah," Leo said. 

                "You know?" CJ asked.

                "Of course I know," Leo said. 

                "Who else knows?" Sam demanded.

                "Uh, let's see," Donna thought.  "There was me, and Josh and Leo."

                "And the President and the First Lady," Leo said.  "And Charlie, and I think he told Zoey."

                "All those people knew before me?" Sam asked.

                "And me," Toby chimed in.  All looked at him bewildered.  "I knew.  I did.  They didn't tell me, but I knew.  Hey, it's my job to know these things."

                "Why didn't you tell me?" Sam asked.

                "Or me?" CJ inquired.

                "It's not my job to tell you, just to know... in case," Toby said to their harsh glares.  "Hey, they didn't even tell me.  I didn't know why they didn't say anything when they got in today.  Ask them!"

                "Well?" CJ said.

                "It never came up," Josh said.

                "You couldn't find the opportunity to bring it up," Sam said.  "I saw you first thing this morning, Josh!  That didn't seem like a good time?"

                “Well, you didn't even ask how my vacation went,” Josh said. “Frankly, that struck me as kind of rude; I thought maybe you didn't want to hear about it.  So technically, you never broached the subject, thus my contention that it never came up.”

                “Not a lawyer?” CJ leered at Sam.

                "Are we finished here?" Leo asked gruffly.  "Could we maybe get back to running the country again?"

                "House Ethics is gonna…," Josh started.

“I just heard,” Leo nodded.  “Very good.  I don’t know what the hell you did about New York, but you pissed southern Connecticut off somehow.  Good thing your mother lives in Florida.”

“Not often I hear that and agree,” Josh added then walked into his office.

                "So that's it?" Sam said. "Donna, I expected better of you at least."

                "What can I say," she said.  "Josh's approach to the world is contagious."

.               "It's catchy?" Toby responded.  "Great, now I fear for all of us.  Leo, I'm seriously considering moving to Canada."

                In the background, Josh started disagreeing loudly with a file in front of him containing projections from the OMB.  Leo looked on with a mixture of aggravation and pleasure.  He shook his head briefly before returning to the rest of the troops.               

                “Does anyone here remember what working means?” Leo growled as he looked toward Josh's office.  “Okay, I’m gonna regret saying this, but could you all try to follow Josh’s lead.  God that hurt to say out loud and if any of you make me say it again, I'm going to fire you.”

                Leo left shaking his head.

                “Any other bombshells you want to drop on us today, Donna?” Sam inquired.  "Maybe you could trot out some children we never knew about either."

             "Sorry," Dona said.  "But ask me something else.  I'm here to help, Sam."

                Sam sat down, his head reeling.  He was pleased to be sure, but also angry.  They hid the whole thing from him.  And since the campaign no less!  Everything he did to keep them apart was for naught--something he was relieved to learn--and all that time he spent afterward trying to coax them together he was making a fool of himself.  They were already seeing each other--behind his back, in fact! 

                "And I thought we could keep you apart," Sam muttered, chuckling at the thought of what they had attempted during the campaign.  "Run away train."

                "What's that?" Donna asked.  "Who tried what?"

                "Oh, nothing," Sam said, getting his legs back.

                He stood and kissed Donna on the cheek, congratulating her.  He also offered his condolences as he looked cautiously at Josh in his office.  Donna accepted his words graciously but she was more interested in the comment he would not elaborate upon.  She made a mental note to ask Josh what it meant later.

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

The Oval Office
1:23 p.m.

    “Ah, Claudia Jean,” Bartlet exclaimed as the Press Secretary entered. “I meant to tell you, beautiful job at this morning’s briefing.  Kreeger, that new guy from Detriot, he tried to tak you out for a spin.  You did well, but I like him.  He's tenacious."

    "He thinks you're afraid to comment on the situation because you're afraid of a Republican backlash and don't hold enough sway with your own party," she informed him.

    "I didn't say I liked  him a lot," Bartlet replied, unconcerned.

    CJ nodded. “Not that I think he's right, but he does have a point, sir.  I believe Leo, Josh and Toby spoke with you this morning...."

      "Yes, it was quite a divergence from our normal routine," the President remarked.

    "We are in agreement that the situation with the Congressmen is far from over," she continued despite his obvious mirth.  This was the trouble with speaking to the President on days when Charlie let him have whatever he wanted for lunch.  Still, she perservered.  "This is going to start to take over the briefings if we don't come out on this soon.”

    “How would telling them that I’ve considered having them drawn and quartered in the middle of downtown Washington wouldn’t go over?” the President mused.

    “Depends on the demographic you’re addressing,” CJ shrugged.

     “That’s the kind of answer I’d expect from Josh, not you,” Bartlet stated.

    “Yes sir.”

    “You know CJ,” Bartlet began as he motioned for her to take a seat, “in the end, the fate of those two ill-spoken gentelmen will be taken care of by the American public through the general election. I imagine it could be a rough campaign season for both of them.”

    “Yes, sir,” CJ agreed. “But the trouble is, Murphy was re-elected to his third term last November and Maskell isn’t up for re-election until next year.”

    “This is his what? Seventh?”

    “Next election cycle will be his ninth,” CJ answered.

    “I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes,” Bartlet said. “During good behavior or not.”

    “I’m sorry, Sir?” CJ asked.

    “Members of Congress are limitless when it comes to terms,” Bartlet began. “However, they must serve ‘during good behavior’—as long as they don’t perform something illegal or unethical, they can serve as long as the American public deems it so. It’s similar to Supreme Court and Circuit Justices.  Though I suppose you must ask yourself does the term ‘during good behavior’ and its historical meaning merit a revisit.”

    “I think their constitutents are attempting to answer that, sir,” CJ informed him.  “You’re addressing the NAACP on Saturday evening.  We’re going to have to…”

    “Yeah, I know,” Bartlet said.  “We're preparing text.  That new guy, Jim Kelly..."

    "Will Bailey," she corrected.

    "Yeah, him," the President nodded.  "He's working with Sam while Josh and Toby hover over them and worry about erroding  support for the assault rifle ban from the right side of the aisle.  The vote is on Tuesday.”

    “We’re going to lose support from our own ranks on prescription drug pricing and lose ground on increased Head Start funding as well," she said.  "It's Catch-22.  We'll losemore if we keep spinning without condemning.”

    “You don’t need to remind me,” Bartlet said. 

    “No, sir,” CJ said as she turned to leave. “Thank you, Mr. President.”

    “Actually,” the President said, hastening her exit, “you’re a woman, CJ.”

    “Last I checked,” she responded.

    “Well, I’m not,” he continued then paused.

    “Again, sir, that’s good to know,” she answered slowly.

    “Okay, we’re limiting the amount of time you spend around Josh,” Bartlet said.  “Or do these surroundings not impress you?”

    “I’m a-quiver to my very bones, sir,” CJ nodded definitely.

    “Good,” he continued unruffled.  “I was wondering if you had heard any rumblings about a party or gathering of some sort for Donna.”

    “A party?”

    “You know, to celebrate her recent nuptials--the sort of ritual that sounds like it should involve water but doesn't,” he explained.

    "A shower?  Well, it seemed to make more sense than doing anything for the both of them because frankly no one planning it wants to invite Josh anyway," she said confidently.

    “I'd feign surprise, but I've got a busy afternoon," Bartlet continued.  "I ask because Ellie stopped in for a visit last evening and all my middle daughter could talk about was how sweet and lovely Donna’s news was.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I like Donna…”

    “But you don’t like Josh?” CJ offered. 

    “Depends what day of the week it is,” Bartlet replied.  “Anyway, having not seen Ellie since the Inauguration, I was hoping to spend some quality father-daughter time with her. Instead, I got barraged with questions about a wedding that I did not attend.”

    CJ nodded. “Understandable, Sir.  For the record, there is a small get together for Donna planned for Sunday afternoon here.”

    "By here you mean not this office," he inquired.

    "The Communications Bullpen, most likely," she answered.  "Ginger is heading up the thing.  She needs to stick close to her desk--Toby is needy lately."

    "Not to place undue influence on the proceedings, but could you please let Charlie know specifics so he can let me know so I can inform my wife and my daughters?" Bartlet requested.  "Makes me look less chauvinistic to them if, you know, I cared about such things.”

    “And do you?”

    “Not really,” he shook his head and placed his glasses on his face.

    “For what it’s worth, I believe Mrs. Bartlet and Zoey are going to be invited,” CJ said.  “If Ellie would be interested, she can be added to the list.  It's a surprise for Donna; the trick will be getting Josh to let her have time away from his tasks so we can have our fun without his complaints.”

    “If you’re planning on having strippers, I’d counsel against it,” Bartlet offered unconcerned. 

    “I’d have fewer questions about Maskell and Murphy,” CJ shrugged.

    “I meant what I said about limiting the time you spend with Leo’s Deputy,” Barltet said, turning his attention to a memo on his desk.  “I’d prefer he propagated his corrupted sense of social wit with his wife, but something tells me is assistant won’t let that happen.”

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

Georgetown

Thursday , 11:30 p.m.

    Josh and Donna arrived home in separate cars but in close succession to each other.  She waited for him at the steps, primarily to scold him to taking the better parking place near the corner.  She was certain she had told him that if it was open when they returned home that she would like it for herself.  As they started up the stairs, the debate took the expected course of his explanation that he heard her but that he never agreed with her, plus he had arrived there first.  She then started a lecture about his concept of speed limits.  

    And so the discussion continued as he put the key in the lock.  He had been back to the apartment once that evening--a brief stop to empty the boxes Donna had thrown in his car during the dinner hour as she commenced her move from one apartment to another.  She had sold much of her furniture to her former roommate and would be out of the apartment by Sunday if she received the assistance she needed from Josh--a prospect she was afraid would need threats of abstinence to attain.         

    Josh opened the door to the apartment and instantly spied his handy work.  He had forgotten that when he told her that he threw her boxes in the apartment that he was essentially speaking literally.  They were stacked haphazardly--several having tipped and spilled their contents onto the floor--in the entry way and living room along with the boxes that she had shuttled to the apartment during her lunch hour.  Her work was, naturally, more organized.

    “Okay, here's the thing,” he warned setting the suitcases down.  “You can't be upset at the mess because it's your stuff and I was in a hurry to meet with Thompson about…”

He turned to find no one beside him.  Instead, Donna was standing outside the apartment door.

“Donna, you don’t have to be invited in.”

Donna glared at Josh.

“What,” he sighed, pushing a pile of her clothing behind the stack of boxes with his foot.  "It's not that bad."

Donna waved her arm at the space between them.

“Excuse me,” she huffed. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yeah, it’s called a doorway,” he answered confidently.

“And?”

“And what?"

“Josh,” she said placing a hand on her hip. “It’s also called a threshold. Ring any bells?”

“I’m familiar with the word,” he replied.  “What’s your point?”

“Josh,” she sighed, throwing her hands up. “It’s a tradition!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Carrying your bride across the threshold," she said exasperatedly.  "Since most of my stuff is here now, I feel like I official live here--my voice is now on the answering machine and..."

   "It is?" he interrupted in surprise as he stared at the phone like it was a stranger.  "Since when?"

"Does it matter?" she replied.  "As I was saying, since this is now my home, I am officially proclaiming..."

"I don't think you have the delegated authority to officially proclaim any..."

"I am proclaiming," she countered sternly before he finished, "that as of now this is my home.  It is a tradition that the groom carries the bride over the threshold."

"Whose tradition?"

"What do you mean whose?" she asked.

"It's self-explanatory," Josh stated as he folded his arms and leaned on the door casing.  "I asked: Whose?  Maybe it's not a tradition where I come from; maybe it's bad luck or a curse."

"It's not a curse in Connecticut, I'm sure of it," she scoffed.  "If you want, I can call your mother and verify it."

"Be my guest," he said pointing to the phone extension across the room.  "Phone's right there."

"Nice try," she said, placing her hands on her hips.  "Tradition clearly states that the groom, that’s you, carries the bride, that’s me, over this, the threshold.”

“When have we ever been traditional?”

“Josh…”

“Seriously, Donna," he argued.  "I’m not a traditional kind of guy and we’ve been…. you know….”

“Married?”

“Yeah, for like a month,” Josh said.

“It’s been eight days,” she informed him flatly.

“Okay, a partial month,” he corrected.

“See, this is the kind of thing I should have thought about before I said yes.”

“Come inside Donna,” Josh said irritated.

Donna shook her head.

“Do you remember our wedding night?”

“I recall it,” he answered brightly.  “Know why?  It was a week ago.”

“Eight days,” she corrected again.  “So you recall that evening?”

From the smirk he fought to hide (and failed) she presumed that he did.

“If you ever want to experience anything like that again, then you would be wise to…”

“That is blackmail,” Josh pleaded, his voice rising higher than he wanted to. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s compromise,” she said with mock sweetness.  “I learned from the best.”

“Satan?”

“Well, Dennis Hasert has called you the Prince of Darkness, but I don't think it was meant as a compliment,” she replied.  “So, you have a choice.  You can go back to your lonely and pathetic typical evening or….  Well, until I get carried across this threshold, or any threshold for that matter, by my husband, that’s really the only kind of night you’ll be having: lonely and pathetic.”

Josh remained standing in the spot and contemplated what she said.  His mind flashed back to their time in Greece. He remembered something else about their wedding night.

He sported an evil grin.

“Wait a minute,” Josh said. “I’m recalling something here.  I know.  It’s déjà vu—sort of.  Didn’t you babble something about this when we got to hotel?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said quickly, sorry that he did remember.

“Yes, you did,” he continued. “And I, the groom, carried you, the bride, over said threshold on our wedding night.”

“Actually, it was more of a half-carry, half-drag me to the bed,” Donna corrected.

“That was after you had spent half an hour with your face buried in those flowers,” Josh said. 

“They were lovely roses,” she said.

“I know, I bought them,” he replied.  “The point is that you were carried over the threshold in the proscribed manner just prior to that.”

“That was a hotel room," she asserted.  "It doesn’t count.”

“It does,” Josh assured her.  “So it’s settled.”

“That depends,” Donna continued.

“On what?”

Donna motioned to the space that was still between them.

Josh sighed. He knew Donna was not going to relinquish this fight; and she was stubborn enough to keep her promise.

Josh gave Donna a sly smile and sauntered over to her.  He stopped within centimeters of Donna and leaned toward her.  She closed her eyes, expecting a kiss to rival the first that he gave her in Miami.  She expected to be swept off her feet and carried into the apartment.  

She got it half right.

She was quickly up-ended and found herself upside down over his shoulder in a fireman-type carry.  She struggled and protested the maneuver, but he pretended not hear.

He carried her through the living room and into the bedroom where he deposited her, gently, on the bed.  She sat up staring at his pleased smirk and knew--yet again--that she had married a man with the intimate socialization skills of a juvenile delinquent.

“Why did you bring me in here?” she asked bluntly.

“You're the one who mentioned the wedding night,” he said.

“No,” she protested.

“Yes, you did,” he retorted. 

"I meant no, not now," she shook her head.

“You offered just moments ago,” he countered.  "You said if I carried you inside...  Hey, you didn't say how you wanted to be carried.  So..."

Josh leaned in to kiss Donna and wound up kissing the comforter, since Donna swiftly rolled out of the way.

“Donna!” he whined, rolling onto his back.

Donna was already standing and making her way towards the closet. She was sizing up the space and measuring with her hands.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he propped himself on his elbows.

“Looking for room,” she said simply.

“You’d rather do it in the closet?” he asked. “I’m both worried and intrigued.”

“There are moments when I like to pretend that I simply can't hear you,” Donna said.

"This is one of them?"

"Big time," she nodded.

"So you are sizing up the closet for what?"

 “For my clothes!" she answered.  "They are hanging over the backs of chairs and are sitting in a pile on the floor where you kicked them.  Are you going to just sit there looking pitiful or are you going to help me?”

“I choose looking pitiful,” he said laying back on the bed with his fingers laced behind his neck, admiring the view of her looking perplexedly at the closet space.  "My back hurts."

“Fine,” she sighed in a perturbed manner.  “Just don't distract me.  I’m making a space in here and then I need to go back to my place and bring some more clothes over.  I don’t want to renew my lease just so I can move out of my apartment.”

“You have time.”

“Maybe if you would help me, I would,” she complained.  “There’s really no room in this place for the two of us.  We should look at getting our own place.”

“This is my place.”

“Right,” Donna sighed.  “Your place.  This was fine when it was just you, Josh.  Now, I’m here, too.  I would like place that I feel is mine, too.”

“There’s room over here,” he said, stretching on the bed.

“Okay, I’m adding predictable to my list of things that you are besides pathetic and…. Well, okay, so I’ve got pathetic and predictable,” she said.  “By the way, the phone is over there."

"Yeah, I know," he shrugged, looking in the direction she was pointing.  "I put it there years ago."

"Aren't you going to dial it?"

"Why?"

Donna placed her hands on her hips and sighed loudly.  A tiny furrow appeared between her brows and her lips pursed into a thin, white line.  Josh stared back at her, going over the conversation, searching for where he made his misstep.  After several moments, he blinked then nodded.

"I’m supposed to call my mother," he deciphered.  Donna smiled and nodded at him, though it was not a happy, you-are-wonderful smile.  It was more of a yes, you-blithering-idiot-do-I-need-to-tell-you- everything smile.

“She called you today and you told me to tell her that you would call her back,” Donna reminded him.  “I’m not making her mad at me.  I take her phone calls.”

“I was heading to a meeting with the President!”

“Don’t drag the President into this,” Donna commanded, then stopped and bit her lip.  “Oh!  Is this our first fight?”

“This hour, sure,” Josh shrugged as he grabbed the phone.  “And it’s not a fight.  This is a pointless discourse aimed at stalling my attempts to enjoy the evening.”  

"I haven't unpacked yet and I need to call my mother," Donna said.  "You can do whatever you want, but until I have my clothing for the rest of the week hanging some place other than the back of the bedroom door and have spoken with my mother...."

"Just leave a message," Josh said for the umpteenth time.  "That's why they were created."

"I'm not leaving my mother a message that I eloped," she said hotly.  "That's rude and impersonal."

"I'd do it," he shrugged.

"I rest my case," she rolled her eyes as she grabbed the phone.  "I've told my brother and my sister and I want to tell my mother."

"Maybe she'll read it in the paper," Josh offered.

"No one in Wisconsin cares about you," she replied.  "Your fan club doesn't have a chapter there."

"You should work on that," he yawned and turned on the TV.  "I just meant that it was on the TV and...."

"Okay, it was a nasty soundbite by Tucker Carlson on Crossfire yesterday about loose morals of this administration," Donna corrected him.  "It made me sound like a bubblehead trophy wife.  You should defend my honor."

"Yeah, I'll challenge him to a duel on the Mall," Josh said, no longer listening as he became engrossed in the debate raging on MSNBC over healthcare initiatives.

Donna dialed her mother's home number again to no avail.  She was on the road, traveling from Donna's brother's home in Colorado back to the condo in Wisconsin.  She had left a day earlier Donna knew and had checked in with her brother twice since then.  That anyone still existed without a cell phone baffled Donna.  She wasn't sure she could function like that any longer.  She suspected Josh would go into withdrawal if he tried.

She would try to reach her again before going to bed.  Until then, Donna's plan was to make room for her clothing in the closet.  It proved easier than she thought.  She merely thrust Josh's stuff to the side.  He never wore his jackets very long in the office and the wrinkles hung out of the material by simple gravity from remaining on the back of his chair half of the day.  She didn't worry too much about his shirts either.  Even on a good day, he had the sleeves rolled up above his elbows by 8 a.m.

She stepped out of the bedroom, prepared to make a comment about the cramped quarters, but stopped as she noted how Josh did not appear to notice she was present at all.  She was very aware that these were "new" surroundings.  At the office, too, she felt slightly awkward at moments.  She didn't fear that lust would over take her and she would commit a faux pas of any sort, but just changing her W-2's (and truth be told, Josh's as well, since she knew he wouldn't get around to it himself) was a strange experience.  She hadn't expected to be married and now she was.  She had always been just Josh's assistant and now she was....  Still just his assistant.  

For her, their lives had changed forever.  For him, it didn't seem so.  He conducted himself precisely as he had previously.  He paid her no more attention (and no less) than he did before; he paid her the same level of credit and respect has he did previously.  Had anyone happened into the bullpen who did not know of their marriage, they would never suspect anything at all had changed. 

The same could be said for their living arrangements.  True, she was now at his apartment and was there openly.  But Josh seemed to pay her presence no mind.  She wasn't sure if this angered her or reassured her about their lives together.  Rather than discuss it with him, she withdrew to the bedroom.  She needed time to think quietly.

When she looked at the clock again, it was nearing 11:30 p.m.  She wasn't sure if she had dozed off or if time was just moving faster.  Either way, she was certain of one thing, the TV was on in the other room and Josh was not in bed yet.  

Donna stepped out of the bedroom and looked for him.  At first, she thought he must have fallen asleep on the couch.  However, as she approached, she noted there was no one laying on the sofa.  She turned toward the kitchen and spied him sitting at the table, the TV on the counter was on as well, and he was flipping through a legal pad with a pen in hand.

"Josh?" 

"Yeah," he looked up.  "Hey, I was listening to Dobson and I got an idea.  First thing tomorrow, I need you to..."

"No," she said calmly and firmly.  She had done some fruitful thinking while in the bedroom.

"I'm sorry?"

"The answer is no," she said.  "I'm not your assistant."

"What?" he asked and shook his head.  "Donna, we went over this.  There is no bar to you being my assistant just because you've got a ring.  Other government agencies have some rules, but they don't...."

"I don't just have some ring," she said.  "This is my wedding ring.  This, for lack of a better word, is my home.  When we are here, you are not my boss.  The office stays at the office.  That was the old rule, and it worked.  I want to re-institute it.  Outside the office, I'm your wife and you're my husband.  That's how it's going to be.  I know your work is your life--that's all you had before.  But now we're married and you don't get to be in-charge of everything.  Equal partners.  That's the deal.  At the office, nothing changes, but outside...  You can talk about whatever you want but don't give me orders like I'm standing beside your desk."

"Donna, I...."

"I'm not mad," she said truthfully.  "I was just doing some thinking, and I need it to be this way.  There is going to come a day when we do not work together.  I don't want to panic when that day comes because we don't know how to be a married couple."

Josh opened his mouth to say something then stopped.  He wasn't sure how to respond.  

"I can still talk about work?" he asked.  "I can think aloud and ask your opinion and whatever?"

"Yes."

"I just can't give you any orders about what to do at the office?"

"You can't give your wife any orders at all," she said.  "You can request my assistance, but no orders.  I know things happen fast sometimes and you have to put on the Deputy Chief hat at strange hours.  I'm not saying that you have to wait until we are at our desks before we start to work.  I'm just saying that..."

"I get it," Josh nodded.  "I just want to make sure of one thing: I'm not in trouble in anyway right now?"

"No," she grinned.  "But it is late and you have a breakfast meeting with Sam and Representatives Farrell and Straith about funding for the Bureau of Prisons at 7 a.m.  You need to go to bed."

"So now you're my mother?" he smirked as he tossed his pen on the table.  "Would you, as my wife, remind me to give my notes to my assistant tomorrow to throw into a memo I'm working on for Leo?"

"Don't be cute," she said, shoving him toward the bedroom as she turned off the kitchen light.  "You're not supposed to look for loopholes when you make a deal with your wife."

Though they turned in for the night, Donna was unable to sleep.  She knew whatever Josh had been working on at the table must be occupying his mind as he made no attempt to resume his plan from earlier in the evening.  Donna carefully rolled over to see if Josh had fallen asleep.  Seeing that he had, she gently rose from the bed and padded down the hall to the living room.  She picked up the phone and dialed.  It was answered on the third ring.  

"Hello?"

            "Momma," Donna said as her mother answered.

                "Donnatella!" Patricia Moss exclaimed with great relief.  "Where are you?  They called and asked and I didn't know what to say."

                "Who called?"

                "Oh, that man," her mother sighed, trying to recall the name.  "You know the one.  From your office.  Why can't I remember their names?  You know who I mean—Steven, the fluffy one with the glasses."

                "Sam Seaborn?" Donna ventured.  Only her mother would take a look at the mildly-neurotic and verbose speechwriter and think the word "fluffy" appropriate.

                "Yes!" Pat snached the name.  "Sam!  That's the one.  He was very polite, but he seemed a tad agitated to me."

                "What did he want?" Donna asked, a pang of dread trailing her words.

                "To find you, of course," her mother responded either not noticing Donna's apprehension or choosing to ignore it.  "He said no one knew where you were.  So I called Susan, is it Susan in Dayton?"

                "Sharon," Donna replied.

                "Yes, her,” Patricia said.  “So I called Susan and she told me the nice young man who walks behind the President all the time, Richard or...."

                "Charlie?"

                "Yes, Charles Oldson?"

                "Charlie Young," Donna replied; her patience level with her mother's ineptitude with names was well-practiced.  How Patricia Moss ever came to give her children such unique names was something Donna never understood fully.  Donnatella was merely grateful her mother never had trouble remembering her name.

                "Him," Pat continued, unconcerned.  "He called Susan and told her you were canceling and that if she had any questions she should call your former roommate.  So, I did that and Alice..."

                "Ashley."

                "Right, she said you changed your plans but she didn't know where you were going," Pat said.  "But that Richard…”

“Charlie.”

“Yes, I don’t know him, do I?” Pat continued.  

"No, mother," Donna assured her.

“Well, she said he took your clothing an luggage, so you know then I worried," her mother explained.

                "Why?" Donna asked.

                Her mother was not a worrywart by nature.  She was easy going and gloom and doom prophesies were never born in her brain.  Thinking the worst in any situation never occurred to the woman.  Donna felt confident that any so-called worry her mother experienced was not the bone-chilling terror of a parent who cannot find their child but more likely annoyance she did not have any exclusive information.  Pat Moss never liked being the last to know anything.

                "Well, I really had nothing to say to Steven," she confessed.  "I was worried he might need some help."

                "You mean Sam," Donna corrected her.

                "Exactly," Pat replied.  "You know how that make me feel.  Well, your friend seemed awful worried for some reason.  I asked him why he didn't just ask your Joshua, but he didn't answer me."

                Donna smirked.  She never got Josh’s name wrong. 

                "Donnatella, where is Josh?" her mother asked.  "Does he know where to find you?"

                "Yes," Donna said.  "I’m with him sort of.  I mean, I’m at his place, but he’s asleep."

                "Asleep?" Pat asked in a baffled tone.  "Isn't it early?"

                "Actually, it is," Donna informed her.  "It's 2 a.m. here, Mom.  But we’re both still exhausted from the trip.”

                “What trip?”

                "Josh took me to Greece, Mom," Donna giggled and smiled as she recalled the breath-taking sights of Athens and Corfu, the island where they spent the days following the wedding. 

                "What?" her mother exclaimed.  "My god!"

                "Uh huh," Donna said and chuckled at her mother's pleased, almost jealous sounding reaction.  "That's not all.  He kind of asked me to get married."

                "To him?"

                "Yes," Donna sighed, realizing her last conversation with her mother did not paint the most flattering portrait of Josh and his maturity level regarding commitment and basically being an adult. 

                "Kind of?"

                "Well, Josh's way of asking for anything isn't precisely what I would ever call orthodox," Donna said.  "He's also terrible at waiting so... I'm sorry you weren't there, but I got married in Greece, Mom.  It was perfect.  It was... even better than anything I ever dreamed."

                Donna started to give her mother the details of the ceremony--painting a mental picture until the actual photos were available.  She also made her mother promise not to call the weddings and announcements section of the local newspaper first thing in the morning.  Donna was having enough trouble dealing with her brother's teasing and threats of coming to DC to have a man-to-man talk with his new brother-in-law.  She wasn't sure she wanted to get clippings from high school friends of headlines to the tune of "Local Girl Marries President's Political Commando.”  The lack of complete privacy was one down side to marrying the reigning prince of the Democratic Party who came with his own fan club. 

“Does Josh’s mother know?” Patricia asked.  “Was she happy for you?”

“Yes, she was very happy,” Donna replied.  “I mean, she’s ecstatic we got married, but I think she’s a little ticked off at Josh for doing it in secret.  Anna a liberal minded woman, but there are some things she’s traditional about.  I can’t blame her.  If my only son got married without telling me, I might be upset, too.”

“Well, that’s something you don’t need to worry about,” Patricia reminded her.

                “I know, Mother,” Donna agreed.  “I wasn’t thinking about that.  I just meant…  When Josh told his  mother, she scolded him for his tactics; I wasn't on the phone, but I overheard part of that conversation.  Actually, I’m kind of glad I didn’t hear it.  Anna’s a fiesty woman and I didn't care to find out how many of Josh's less than flattering personality traits are from his mother's side of the family.”

            Pat agreed to her silence only after she received a detailed rundown of all that had transpired from the moment Donna boarded the plane in Washington to the moment she called her mother.

           Donna gladly fulfilled those needs.  She described how she ended up getting on the plane; the sites in the city; the proposal; her rings--right down to the velvet box emblazoned with the moniker of Harry Winston; her dress (a Greek inspired affair complete with visible midrift) bought just two hours before the ceremony; the brief, civil ceremony on a yacht in the Mediterranean arranged by the ever-resourceful and mysterious Mark at the Embassy.  Donna stopped her rendering there, from the moment they entered the suite.  She reasoned there are some things her mother did not need to know.

           Pat Moss sniffled and wept and laughed through the tale then proclaimed she forgave her daughter for her impetuousness.  Then she made two requests: she wanted to see pictures of the trip and get a visit from her daughter and son-in-law so that she could congratulate them properly.

          “I just can't believe I'm so lucky," Donna sniffled.

          "And you love him?"

          "Of course," Donna answered.  "Yes, he annoys me and he's abrupt and abrasive at times, but he's also the most wonderful, and thoughtful man I've ever known.  I've loved Josh for so long, it's hard to remember a time when I didn't love him.  No one ever made me feel the way the way Josh does.  He believes in me; he trusts me; he respects.  And he loves me, Mom. For everything I am and everything I'm not.  He loves me."

          "Anyone who's ever seen the way he looks at you knows that, Donnatella," Pat Moss said confidently.  "And I think your father would approve of this.  Now, he'd be plenty ticked you ran off on a moment's notice, but the result would mollify him.  He liked your Joshua, you know.  He thought he had integrity and a firm handshake--and you know what those meant to your father."

          "The ultimate character litmus test," Donna remarked.

          "He also thought Josh was kind and intelligent, ," Pat continued.  "He has that fierceness that doesn't never quit when the tide turns against you.  That may have impressed your father the most. You know he was not a member of any political party, but we both know he voted Republican more often than not.  But he voted for President Bartlet this last time in great part because he was so impressed after talking to your Joshua.  After all, he entrusted him to look after you.  So now I will, too."

          Donna wanted to say on a daily basis, she needed less of a keeper than Josh did, but refrained.  She knew Josh would take care of her--he had on some level for years, nearly as much as she had him.  And if she ever needed more, she knew he would be there then as well.  There was something in his eyes that told her he would never leave her, that he would need her as much as he wanted her; in his touch she sensed, the way he held her hand as they said their vows, that she would never stumble or fall because he simply wouldn't let her.

          Donna disconnected after receiving her mother's blessing yet again.  She crept quietly back into their bedroom, depositing her robe on the floor before sliding back under the sheets to snuggled up to Josh's side.  She nestled her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

         "So how's your mother?" he asked plainly.

         "You're awake," she snapped.  "You were sleeping!"

         "Yes, and then I woke up," he said.  "It's a fairly comprehensible progression."

    "I could still hear you," he offered.

    "Well, since you're up," she said, feeling mildly guilty that she had not told him several things before they got married.  "I.... We need to talk."

    "Now?"

    "I won't be able to sleep if I don't get this off my chest," she confessed.

    "Is this one of those conversations that requires a lawyer?"

    "You're a lawyer or you claim to be," she said.

    "Okay, I was kidding there, but you don't sound funny," he said, shaking his head.  "What do you need to tell me?"

    "Um, it's about children," she said, watching his face go from sleepy to bolt awake panic.  "Don't worry.  I'm not pregnant."

    "Thank god," he sighed.

    "That's the thing," she confessed, hanging her head both glad at his reaction and disappointed with it.  "I won't ever be.  Josh, I can't have children."

Up next, chapter 9: The Grid Iron Dinner