New FF: The Art of Stoicism Author: incisayman Follows the outline of "The Al Smith Dinner" A/N: Once again angst galore. At first. This isn't exactly a post-ep because it changes some of the events of the episode. Rating: Probably R Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and get nothing material from this posting. Only stress relief. ********************************************************************** They had been staring at each other for minutes. In a bedroom. Now Donna sits back down on the bed, finally looking away from him and focusing on her hands. Lou had left them there to work things out, not knowing what they'd be working out, not knowing the depth of their entanglement or the vigor of their resentment. He had hit her with the worst things he could think of, telling her that he was the reason she had a job at all, that she was a college drop-out from Wisconsin, and finally, and worst of all, that she should never have left her dead-beat boyfriend and come to New Hampshire. It is this last sentence that now echoes in the room, stunning both of them into silence and making Josh's hands shake so badly he has to put down the folder Lou has handed him. "You mean that." She says it as a statement. He can't look at her anymore, so he turns all the way around and faces the door. "You were good on camera today. Let's be professional about this. You'll be our spokesperson; we'll communicate through Lou..." Despite his best efforts, he sounds choked. "You're lecturing me about being professional when you just told me you wish we'd never met?" There's an emptiness she feels that scares her. It's gaping and hollow and comes from the possibility that her time with Josh had been filled with delusion -- that his feelings were never like hers. She can't anchor herself. "You should start reviewing our press releases and media statements. Lou can give you copies." He's turned slightly toward her now, so she is looking at his profile. "Do you wish we'd never met?" "I think we need to be professional with each other." She is stunned that he can keep the rancor she knows he's feeling firmly inside. "Damn it, Josh." "I'm sorry for getting personal. That wasn't appropriate." He picks up the folder again and rifles through it, not really looking for anything. "I see. Well, Josh, if you're prepared to go through with this, I guess I am too." Fine. She can do this. She can play his game. "What do you mean?" He finally looks at her and she can see the anxiety for just a moment before he arranges his face to be neutral. "Professional, right?" "Yeah. Look Donna I have a conference call in five minutes." "Don't you think we should lay down some ground rules first?" He sighs and looks at her. "What kind of rules?" It's always gratifying when she can get him to go off-plan, to play by her rules. She stands up and walks around to face him. "First, it might help if you didn't tell me how much you missed me." Her face is a wall and she looks directly at him. He holds her gaze, but there's a slight twitch in his right cheek. "Fine," he says quietly, and she almost drops her resolve. But he's the one doing this and she's tired of being the reasonable one, the one expected to put up with his every mood, the unimportant one. "We speak only about work, nothing personal. We don't have breakfast, lunch, or dinner together, it just confuses things. We don't joke around or refer to our past, and we don't accompany each other to any official event unless it's unavoidable." "Fine, I..." "You don't comment on my appearance, and I, of course, won't comment on yours. You don't touch me in any way that you wouldn't touch Lou or, say, Leo." He raises his eyebrows at that one, but stays silent. "And finally, you don't communicate with me in any way that is superfluous, ornamental, or not absolutely necessary." "Ornamental?" "Yep." She crosses her arms and stares at him. She knows that he won't object -- that he doesn't have the courage to break through this thing between them, this wall that seems so impenetrable. And it makes her sad, but she can't give in to that feeling. She can't sit around and wallow for their failures together. It won't do any good. She wants this job. With or without Josh, she wants a future in politics. "You're good at the rules aren't you?" She's startled and momentarily loses her focus. He chooses now to refer to perhaps the most intense period of their relationship? She can't help but to remember in a flash the months of caring for him after the shooting, dressing his wounds, seeing the pink scar running diagonally on his upper chest. Touching it. She swallows. "Josh... I'm only trying to" "Yeah, I know." He scrubs his hand across his face and suddenly looks exhausted. "I agree to your rules. Can I go now?" "Umm...I'll just go see Lou about those press releases," she turns around and fumbles with her coat and bag. He leaves without another word. tbc LAST TIME: "You're good at the rules aren't you?" She's startled and momentarily loses her focus. He chooses now to refer to perhaps the most intense period of their relationship? She can't help but to remember in a flash the months of caring for him after the shooting, dressing his wounds, seeing the pink scar running diagonally on his upper chest. Touching it. She swallows. "Josh... I'm only trying to" "Yeah, I know." He scrubs his hand across his face and suddenly looks exhausted. "I agree to your rules. Can I go now?" "Umm...I'll just go see Lou about those press releases," she turns around and fumbles with her coat and bag. He leaves without another word. ********************************************************************** Weeks pass and he never breaks the rules, not once. He communicates to her through Lou, and sometimes leaves her notes on small white post-its taped on her office door or on her computer monitor. She sees him seldom, and when she does, he avoids her eyes. Their conversations are clipped and almost like the short-hand they used to share in the White House, except this time it's sterile and not at all like foreplay. She regrets it. After a week, she tries to talk to him, but he's in California, and when he returns, she has to fly to the Midwest for a series of press events. To her annoyance, she finds herself thinking about him more and more instead of less. Even worse, she dreams about him, about them together, doing things she never allowed herself to imagine. Until now. On a Friday night, Bram asks her to dinner. She surprised and almost refuses, but he's so pretty and friendly, and she's damn tired of thinking about Josh, his arms, his chest, his sleep-tousled hair. So she goes. He's sweet and gracious, and she keeps blushing thinking about how good it would feel to let herself go, to go home with him and let him undress her. At the end of the night, they are waiting for a cab outside the restaurant when he moves to hold her hand. She tenses immediately and knows right there that she won't be going home with him. She sighs and for the hundredth time that week curses Josh Lyman. He frowns a little and turns his head slightly to look at her. "Can I ask you a question?" She already knows. "There's nothing going on between us." "But you wish there was?" She turns to face him. "Bram, honestly, I don't know. I'm sorry; I know I'm a terrible date." She tries to laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. "You're a great date." He smiles softly. She grimaces. "You don't have to pretend for my sake. I can take it." "Donna, you're intelligent, a great conversationalist, and beautiful. There's literally nothing terrible about you." "Why did you ask me out?" "I like you," he shrugs. She looks at him for a moment. He's staring at the ground with his hands in his pockets, swaying slightly from side to side. She makes a decision. "Bram, do you want to get a drink?" He looks up surprised. "Now?" "Yeah. But I warn you, I can drink most anyone under the table. You might be embarrassed." He looks her up and down and snorts. "Please, Donna. I was in a fraternity." "I'm part Irish." He laughs at that. They duck into the nearest bar and start with tequila shots. Donna drinks them straight down, piling the lime wedges on her cocktail napkin, making little towers out of them after the fifth shot. Bram matches her shot for shot and starts ordering his sixth when Donna puts her hand on his arm. "Listen, Bram." "Yeah," he looks over at her, finding it a little difficult to focus on her face. "You're right about me and Josh." She covers her face with both hands. "I can't believe I'm drunk and talking about him on a date. With you. I'm stupid. Bram, I'm really, really stupid." "You're not stupid, Donna. And you know what?" He leans toward her a little, steadying himself with a hand on the bar. "He's a putz, because you're beautiful." "Putz?" She giggles. He shrugs. "He's still my boss." "I won't tell on you." "I know." He seems to consider something before moving toward her again. "Donna, do you want to come home with me?" His voice is so low she almost doesn't hear. He's very close to her now, and she looks up at his face, his neck, and breathes in. "Yes. But I won't." He nods and stays silent for a while. "Can we still hang out sometime?" She leans toward him and puts her hands on his shoulders. "I'd love to spend more time with you." The last word is a little breathless and she leans in to kiss him, stopping before he can part her lips with his tongue. She pulls back and sighs, "I probably shouldn't have done that." "I didn't mind. You can do it again if you want." She smiles at that. "I really shouldn't. I have these feelings ..." "I know," he says quickly. "Right." She picks up her bag and starts to put on her coat. He gets up to help her. "I had fun," she says sincerely. "Me too. Let me get a cab for you." She puts a hand on his arm. "No. I'll do it." She doesn't want to walk out with him because she knows what she's going to do, and part of her is embarrassed by it. Part of her wants to do it alone in the dark. Outside, she hails a cab and gives the driver the Georgetown address. He should be home by now. tbc In light of recent events, I debated whether I should post another chapter today. In the end, I decided that I could use a little fantasy. Maybe others might as well. ********************************************************************** Last time, Donna goes on a date with Bram: She picks up her bag and starts to put on her coat. He gets up to help her. "I had fun," she says sincerely. "Me too. Let me get a cab for you." She puts a hand on his arm. "No. I'll do it." She doesn't want to walk out with him because she knows what she's going to do, and part of her is embarrassed by it. Part of her wants to do it alone in the dark. Outside, she hails a cab and gives the driver the Georgetown address. He should be home by now. ********************************************************************** In the cab, she realizes how much the tequila has affected her. She is slumped in the backseat, telling herself to go home, to ask the driver to turn around. But she can hardly hear her reasonable voice. Instead she imagines him on top of her, kissing her in the way she has always imagined. She also remembers his voice when he told her she should never have come to New Hampshire. She hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since that day, and it makes her angry at the same time that she's desperate to touch him. It's a strange sensation. She barely remembers getting to his front door, but suddenly she's there, staring up at his brownstone, at the light in the back bedroom. She knocks and almost decides to sit on the doorstep since she doesn't know if she can stand much longer. When he finally opens the door, he just stares at her. He's wearing pajama bottoms and a grey Harvard t-shirt and she can't help but to glance at his right arm, taut from holding the doorframe. She pushes past him into the living room, dropping her bag by the coat-rack and shrugging off her jacket. He stands at the door for a second more before turning around and closing it. "Are you all right?" He looks bewildered and a little concerned. "Do you wish we'd never met?" He opens his mouth and then shuts it. They are standing facing each other -- Donna next to his black leather couch, Josh still next to the door. She notices that he is barefoot. "Donna, what are you doing here?" She laughs a little and throws her arms in the air in what she hopes looks like exasperation and not total lunacy. "Why can't you answer the damn question?" "Do you have any idea how many rules you're breaking right now?" "Shut up about the damn rules." "They're your rules!" His voice goes up a notch and he has to clear his throat. "Well, I abolish the rules." She walks toward him a step. "What gives you the authority to abolish the rules?" "They're my rules, as you point out, so I can make them and break them." "That makes no sense." He stops and looks at her face, noticing how dark her eyes have become, how she doesn't seem to focus on anything. "You're drunk." "I'm not," she says in a small voice, somehow feeling like she's lost something. Your integrity, her reasonable voice tells her, your sense of respect and decorum and above all, the ability to keep this thing that you're feeling for him a secret. That voice is lost in her head somewhere and all she feels now is hurt and, more potently, anger. "Yes, you are. Donna, you came to my house raving drunk." He walks around to the kitchen and fills a glass of water from the filter in the fridge. As he brings it to her, she flops down on the couch. "I went out with Bram tonight," she blurts out. She hadn't meant to tell him, but if he can blow off nine years of friendship, of whatever it was they had, he should know what he's losing. He freezes mid-motion and looks at her face. She can't return his glance, and after seconds he lowers her water onto the coffee-table and straightens out. "Why are you over here then?" "Why do you think?" "I don't know, and frankly Donna, I'm getting really tired of this." It gratifies her that he's finally reacting to something she's said. It makes her want him so much, she loses her breath. She feels all inhibition leaving her, along with any thought for how she will work with him after what she's about to do. The notion of finding some release to these feelings makes her bold. He'll at least react to her physically. Of this, she is sure. "I didn't go home with Bram," she starts. "Yeah, we've covered that," he looks annoyed and runs his hand through his hair. "Don't you want to know why?" "Not really." "It has to do with you." He can't hide the surprise on his face. His breath quickens as she gets up from the couch and walks toward him. "It has to do with us." "Donna," he says as though to stop her, but it's too late. She's already committed to this, wants this more than she can admit to herself. And she's willing to have him, just his body, if that's the only thing he will offer. Somewhere she knows how wrong this is, how empty and dark, but then there are the years of furtive thoughts, of glancing at his bare arms, of watching him work by the yellow lamp at his desk late at night. And doing nothing. She remembers suddenly an HHS appropriations bill they were discussing; something about funding a study on female sexuality. "Why would anyone want to subdue a woman's sexual drive?" She remembers him asking. Her answer had made her blush and turn away from him. Later, she had cried for no reason in her bedroom. "Because we can get out of hand," she had said. Out of hand. "I though you might have a better offer," she steps even closer to him. Despite her stance, she is uncertain and terrified that he'll need convincing. That she'll be reduced to begging him for sex in his apartment. He swallows. "I don't know... I don't know what you're saying." He doesn't step away from her and she can see that one of his hands is shaking slightly. She takes that hand in both of hers and looks at him steadily. "I think that you do, Josh." And then, because holding his hand seems too tender, she lets it go and puts her arms around his neck. "Donna, you're drunk." "We've covered that." "You're not going to like yourself if we do this," he mumbles, still staring at her. "Do you want to do this?" She can already see it in his eyes and it makes her feel powerful. He puts a hand in her hair and slowly touches her cheek. "Donna, there's nothing right about this," he whispers. She feels her face burning with indignation. How dare he feel sorry for her? "I didn't ask you that. So what if it's not right?" She suddenly releases him and heads toward his bedroom. There's no reason to do this half-way. Once there she sits on the bed and starts unbuttoning her shirt. The room is dark, but she can see the silhouette of his dark oak dresser, the one from his grandmother. After the shooting, she had stashed her Yummy Sushi pajamas in the bottom drawer. She wonders if they're still there. Despite the heavy carpeting, she senses the minute he steps in the room. "You know, I kissed Bram," she tells him. "Why are you telling me?" His voice is quiet. "Because I wanted it to be you," she says simply. "I wanted you to touch me the whole time, Josh. The whole time." She feels him coming closer. "And when I kissed Bram..." "Stop talking about him." Suddenly his hands are on hers and he's unbuttoning her blouse with a fervor that makes her moan. His voice is hoarse and they're kissing when she falls back onto the bed. "Don't ever talk about him again." "Ok," she breathes. "Just touch me." But he already is, unhooking her bra as soon as her blouse is off, scooting down to slip off her silk pants. All she feels are his hands and for the moment, it's enough. She doesn't touch his scar, just looks at it for a second before dipping lower. After she's yelled his name over and over and he's muffled his cries into her hair, they fall silent. He is holding her, and she can barely catch her breath. The room smells of them together, and something about that makes her sad. She's finally fulfilled all of her frenzied sexual urgings, and all she wants to do is go home. She sniffles a little, and then clears her throat to cover it up. She can't be this way with him. Or he'll know. "What's the matter?" Of course he has to choose now to pay attention. "Nothing." "Donna," he sighs. "Seriously, Josh. Listen, I'm going to go," she moves to get up. "What?" He grabs her by the waist. "I have a 9 a.m. meeting and I need to get my notes," the last part comes out weaker and she's having more and more trouble keeping her voice steady. She needs to leave. Now. He is silent, but releases her. She can feel him watching as she hunts for her clothes in the semi-dark. She turns her back to get dressed. As she's walking out of the bedroom, he gets up and follows her. Though she doesn't want to, she turns to face him in the living room. She has to leave with some dignity; she has to give him the idea that she can handle sex without entanglement, that she's not the same Midwestern girl he's known. He clears his throat and runs his hand through his hair. She tries not to stare at his bare chest, tries not to hate that this moment, which should be so intimate, makes her feel so far away. "Why don't you stay." His voice is uncertain and she winces at the thought that he is doing this for her benefit. She takes a breath and pastes a smile on her face. "Really, Josh. You don't have to do that." "Do what?" "Ask me to stay. We both know what this was." He steps back. "Well, have a good night then, Donna." His jaw is tense and he looks at her a moment before walking back into the bedroom. Taking one more look at the apartment, she gathers her bag and walks out into the night. Through the window she sees the glass of water he brought out for her still sitting on the coffee-table. It is this detail that makes her finally cry. tbc LAST TIME: "Why don't you stay." His voice is uncertain and she winces at the thought that he is doing this for her benefit. She takes a breath and pastes a smile on her face. "Really, Josh. You don't have to do that." "Do what?" "Ask me to stay. We both know what this was." He steps back. "Well, have a good night then, Donna." His jaw is tense and he looks at her a moment before walking back into the bedroom. Taking one more look at the apartment, she gathers her bag and walks out into the night. Through the window she sees the glass of water he brought out for her still sitting on the coffee-table. It is this detail that makes her finally cry. ********************************************************************** The next morning, she has a headache. She gets out of bed before her alarm wakes her and shuffles into the bathroom. Her face is pale and her eyes still puffy and red-rimmed. Taking a shower, she is overcome with remorse. For goading him into bed, for going over there in the first place, for kissing Bram. It is then that she remembers the things she said, and it makes her gasp. She toyed with a man's career to lure her boss into bed. This is who she's become. She pictures Josh staring Bram down at meetings, giving him less responsibility, being overly-critical of his work. She knows the fervor of his jealousy, the unreasonableness of it. Getting dressed, she can think of nothing else. At headquarters, she walks by his office five times, knowing that he's always in on Saturday mornings. Finally, when she has only a few minutes before the media policy meeting with Lou and the junior staff, she knocks once and opens the door. He looks up and quickly looks back down, shuffling through a binder full of reports. "What do you need?" She takes a breath. It has to be done. "I won't bring this up again," she begins. "But... well, I need to talk to you about Bram." His hands still, but he remains looking down. "Look, Josh, the things I said last night..." "Yeah, I really don't think it's worth talking about." She cringes. "Ok, but, I really need you to not take this out on him." "Take what out on him?" His tone is icy when he looks up, and she's taken aback momentarily. "Look, you can be as nasty to me as you want, but none of this is his fault. So, please try to have some control." He says nothing. In a flash, she remembers his hands outlining her body last night. When he looks up, she is sure he can tell she is thinking about it. She is sure her face is flushed. "I don't care who you're screwing, Donna." "Josh," she gasps. She hadn't predicted the strength of his resentment. "We're not involved." "Whatever." She walks around to his side of the desk and lowers her voice. "I mean it. Why would I have spent the night with you if we were?" "You didn't spend the night with me." He says immediately. "I...." "Please. I can't have this conversation anymore." He sounds tired and something she can't quite read. "I won't take anything out on him." She looks at him with wide eyes. "I promise," he finishes quietly. There is nothing else to do but leave, so she walks out without looking back. Half-way through her policy meeting she realizes that his tone had been laced with defeat. Late that night when she's finally home she brings out her old photo albums. Something about Josh's reaction makes her think about Michael. In the back of her closet, she keeps pictures of their life together. It used to remind her of what she left behind and what she could look forward to. In the days of the Bartlett administration, she had always assumed that she would meet someone that would make her happy - that she would eventually be in a mutually supportive relationship. But then she had started feeling things for Josh and as much as she tried, she couldn't let it go. She thought about him after every date, and even when she left for the Russell campaign, she couldn't stop wondering if she would run into him that day. At times, she thought that they were getting close to having something - like after Germany, but things would inevitably bounce back to their own peculiar equilibrium. When he had ignored her after Gaza, she finally decided that he would never see her as an equal. Now, she had had sex with him, and he couldn't even tell her that he was glad they had met in the first place. He felt something for her, she was certain, but it wasn't love, and in her weaker moments, she could admit that she had gone to him last night looking for a declaration of some kind. But sleeping with him had only made things worse, because now she wants to do it again and again, even if it's nothing more. She shuts the album on a picture of her and Michael on a vacation to Chicago. That had been a bad year. The next day is Sunday and she has lunch with Carol. Over her tandori chicken sandwich, she tells her about the campaign, the traveling, her brief date with Bram. Carol raises her eyes at that. "Well?" "Well what?" She rolls her eyes. "How was it?" "Fine. Great." She looks down and pushes around her green salad. "What about Josh?" She looks up at her. "What about him?" "Oh, come on, Donna. We've talked about this remember?" Carol had been the only one she trusted to keep her secret in the White House. She had done it for eight years. Suddenly, Donna can't keep it in any longer. She leans into Carol. "Carol, I did something stupid." "Oh no." "Yeah. After my date I went over to Josh's." "Oh God." "Drunk." "Shit." "And slept with him." Carol nearly bounds out of her chair. "Are you kidding me?" She nearly shrieks. "No." "Are you kidding me?" "Carol, keep it down." "Are you kidding me?" She says more quietly "Carol, how could I possibly be kidding about this?" Carol stares at her, mouth open, fork in mid-air. "Oh my God." "Yeah." She puts her fork down and folds her hands in front of her plate. "So, how was it?" "Carol." "Come on, you've been thinking of this for years. Did he live up to all the speculation?" "Well, I want to do it again..." She turns her head to look out the window. "But?" "But," she looks back at Carol. "Well, I think it was just sex." "What do you mean, just sex?" Donna sighs. "Well, I kind of made him do it." Carol cocks her eyebrow. "Excuse me?" "He said it was a bad idea, but I practically undressed myself until he couldn't take it anymore..." "Wow, that's sexy." Donna smiles a little. "It wasn't boring." "I guess not." "But then I left. Afterwards. I just couldn't stay, you know?" "I'm not sure I get it, Donna," Carol says softly. "I just, he doesn't love me, and I didn't want to appear needy." "Why are you so certain he doesn't love you?" "Carol, come on." "I'm serious. From what I've seen, Donna, it's quite possible that he's in..." "Please don't say it." She puts up her hand. Carol purses her lips and looks at Donna for a moment. "Fine. How did he react when you were leaving?" "He said he wanted me to stay, but I don't think he meant it." "I see." "So, now he's being hostile, and seriously I think I messed up our working relationship, too." She bites her lip and tries to keep from crying. Again. Carol puts a hand on Donna's arm and holds it there for a moment. "Donna, I really think you should stop assuming things about Josh." "I'm not going to fall into that trap, Carol." She raises her voice a little and shrugs off her hand. "What trap, honey?" "Being the more committed one, doing anything to keep him from leaving. Being pathetic." "You're not pathetic." "Yeah, well, when it comes to Josh, I could be." "So you're going to keep him at arm's length?" "I'm going to do anything I can." Carol sighs. "Ok, Donna. Just, I don't know... Just try to be a little more open." They finish lunch and window shop in Friendship Heights before taking the Metro back toward Adams Morgan. It's a crisp, sunny day and Donna decides to walk from the station to her place instead of waiting for the bus. She hugs Carol, who holds on a little longer than usual and squeezes her hand before heading in the opposite direction. On her way across the Wilson Bridge, she picks up teriyaki for dinner at her favorite Japanese place on Connecticut. The late afternoon sun is hitting the store windows so they reflect yellow light, making everything look dreamy and edgeless. She doesn't want to think about Josh anymore. At home, she deposits the food cartons in the fridge. It's then that she notices a message on her cell phone. She doesn't have to look. Sighing, she dials his number, getting him on the first ring. "Hey, Josh, do you need me to come in?" He is silent for a moment and then clears his throat. "No, I'm at home. I wanted to ask you something." He sounds strange. "What?" "Do we have an arrangement?" "An arrangement?" "Yeah, you said to forget the rules, right?" "Right," she says cautiously. She can hear him swallow. "So what happened the other night, is that a one-time thing?" "I don't know, do you want it to be?" Her voice is small. She can't place his tone. Is he asking her for sex or something else? "No. Do you?" Well, at least that part is clear. "No," she answers, because it's true. She wants him on a raw level. Just the thought of it sends waves of arousal from her abdomen to her legs. In his silence, she knows what he wants to ask. "Do you want to come over?" "Yeah." The response is a little louder than a whisper. He clears his throat again. "Yeah, I can pick up dinner if you want." "If you want to." "Ok." More silence. "I'll see you in an hour?" "Ok." After she hangs up, she notices that her photo albums are still on the coffee table in the living room. She stares at them, feeling all of the sudden very tired. Josh is coming over to have sex with her. She's never wanted anything more or less in her entire life. tbc A/N: Thanks for sticking with me. Almost done. Don't worry, my angst always leads to something good. It does eventually get better for our couple! LAST TIME: "Do you want to come over?" "Yeah." The response is a little louder than a whisper. He clears his throat again. "Yeah, I can pick up dinner if you want." "If you want to." "Ok." More silence. "I'll see you in an hour?" "Ok." After she hangs up, she notices that her photo albums are still on the coffee table in the living room. She stares at them, feeling all of the sudden very tired. Josh is coming over to have sex with her. She's never wanted anything more or less in her entire life. ********************************************************************** She's just emerged from the shower when he knocks. Hair wet, she throws on a robe to open the door. He's wearing jeans and his Yale sweatshirt, and she can't help but eye the jeans. What the hell, she thinks, we both know why he's over here. She's satisfied that he can't seem to speak either, but instead stares at the open space where her robe doesn't quite close all the way. "Josh," she says. "Give me the food." "What?" He is still staring. She pulls the take out cartons from his hands and heads to the kitchen. When she turns around, he is pushing her against a wall and they are suddenly kissing, mouths open, desperate. His hands are in her hair as his mouth travels down to her neck and then lower to the part of her chest not covered by the robe. "God, Josh." He comes back up to kiss the skin right below her ear. "I'm sorry about yesterday," he mumbles. "What?" "The stuff I said about you and... Bram. I'm sorry." "That's ok," she breathes. He runs his fingers over the collar of the robe, knuckles grazing her chin. "Can I take this off?" The request is so tender, she looks away. She remembers telling Carol that it was just sex. Concentrate on that, she tells herself. Once in the bedroom, he slowly removes her robe, and when she is completely naked, says her name in a way she's never heard. She is sure her entire body is flushed red as she lifts his sweatshirt over his head and starts on the buttons of his jeans. But then his hands are on her breasts, making her arch her back, and in the next second, she is lying down and he is on top of her, mouth where his hands had just been. "My god, Josh," she can't help saying. Again she tries to fumble with his jeans, but he removes her hands. "Let me taste you first," he says and she loses all thought as he slides down her body. Later, when she's finally gotten him naked and they've both screamed each other's names, he's running his hand through her hair. The way he's touching her is making her tremble, and she wraps her arms around herself to stop it. She doesn't want to give in to this. It's tempting to think that they could be happy like this, that it wouldn't ultimately end badly for her, but she knows it will. "You cold?" "A little," she lies. He pulls the covers over their bodies and wraps his arms around her waist. "Do you want to talk?" She tenses. She had wanted this to last a little longer, but she doesn't have much of a choice. "Yeah." "Ok," he sounds nervous, and it makes her dread this even more. Even if he has feelings for her, they wouldn't last, and, in the end, she would be left to hold together their relationship until it inevitably falls apart. "We have an arrangement, right?" she starts. "I don't know." "You're the one who mentioned it on the phone." "I know, I just didn't know how else to talk to you." "Well, you were right." "What's the arrangement?" She can feel his hand shaking slightly against her hip. "You come over here when you can. Or I come to your place. We do this. It ends there." He is silent for so long, she almost turns around to see if he's heard her. "Do you agree?" she whispers. In her mind, she is pleading with him to agree. She can't lose what little she has of him. "Why do you want this?" his voice is controlled. "I like having sex with you." It's a true, if only partial, answer. He says nothing to this, but instead starts touching her again. She doesn't know where this is coming from, but she can't help responding. Once he has her moaning, he leans into her ear. "Say my name," he whispers. "Josh," she hisses. "Tell me you want me." "I want you so much." "Tell me you think about me." This is dangerous territory, but she's too far gone to refuse him anything or to lie to him. "I always think about you." "Me too," he says, and then they are lost in each other's bodies again. Afterwards, she tries to scoot away from him and sleep, but he tucks his chin into the crook of her neck and kisses her hair. It's just too comfortable to move. "You wanna eat something?" "I guess we should." Only when he mentions it does she realize how hungry she is. She pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of boxers from her bottom drawer. "Are those mine?" "I don't know, I guess." She had taken them from him one night when he was having back to back nightmares during his recovery. She had crawled into bed with him and held his head on her chest until he could sleep again. Neither of them had mentioned it in the morning. "No, they are...." He fingers the elastic waist slowly, thinking of something. She knows the minute he figures it out. He looks at her strangely. Almost nakedly, she thinks. "Do you remember?" "Yes," she hadn't planned on admitting that, but somehow she can't lie about that time with him. It was beyond the confines of their relationship -- those rarified days when she could almost love him out in the open. "We never talked about that." "Yeah, well, it was a long time ago." He seems to think about this. "I guess so," he says. She moves to get up, but he pulls her back down on the bed. "Let's eat here." He goes into the kitchen and arranges a plate for them to share, bringing two pairs of chopsticks. They talk about the campaign while they eat, and the conversation is so normal, she wonders why things aren't more awkward between them. She thinks maybe the arrangement is working. When they finish, she goes to put the dishes away and straighten the kitchen. She thinks he might be getting ready to leave and she doesn't want to watch him put on his clothes and make nervous conversation. She lingers in the kitchen as long as she can. When she finally returns, he is sitting up in bed working on her laptop. "What are you doing?" "Working. Listen, I think we're in a fair position for some campaign stops in the Deep South. Nothing extensive, just a weekend loop, maybe next week. What do you think?" She can't get over the fact that he's working. In her house. After sex. It feels so... intimate. "Yeah, um, I've been thinking the same thing. We might be able to pick up some support from the urban moderates." She can't stop staring at him. "Come to bed," he looks up at her. "Maybe we should go into the office." "Nah. I can get as much done from here. Plus, there are added benefits to being here." He smiles at her, a genuine dimpled smile. "How many times a night can you possibly have sex?" "I wasn't talking about sex, now come to bed." She swallows. "Josh." "Donna, stop standing there gaping at me and get over here." She slowly walks over and stands over him on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and starts rubbing her calf absently as he reads something on the screen. Finally she grabs some polling reports and her notepad and climbs in next to him. They work for awhile in silence, occasionally mentioning something to the other. She begins to relax when he shuts the laptop and leans back on the pillows. "You tired?" he asks her. She nods, still reading. It's a while before she notices that he's looking at her. "What?" He tenses his jaw. "Should I leave so you can get to bed?" She lowers her notepad and looks down. If he stays, the arrangement would be broken, and who knows what else he might assume. But the thought of him putting on his clothes and leaving is too much to bear at the moment. Temporary weakness, she tells herself. I'll do better tomorrow. "You might as well stay," she tries to be causal. "I might as well?" Please don't make an issue of it, she thinks. "Yeah." "Do you want me to stay?" "Can we not start this?" "Ok," he says slowly, and she's certain he's going to get up and leave. Part of her is relieved. "Do you still have an extra toothbrush in there?" "What?" "Toothbrush." "Right. Yeah, it's in there." She watches the light under the bathroom door as he gets ready for bed. The whole day has been so strange. Josh never backs down from an argument, but he's been accommodating and sweet, and... like a boyfriend. The thought makes her shiver and she can't think about it. Don't freak out, she tells herself. You're just going to sleep in the same bed. It doesn't mean anything. Hours later, she wakes up with his arm across her stomach, his head buried in her hair. Weeks pass, and they never again discuss whether he should stay over. He just does. On Fridays when they are both in town, they have a routine of working late and then going to his place. Sometimes she stays until Saturday night. On a Saturday a few months before the election, she is sitting up in bed reading a Post process article about Vinick's political style. The morning is hot and she has on his Stop Autism Now T-shirt and a pair of grey bikini underwear. He stirs beside her in bed. "What are you doing?" "Reading the Post." He scoots over and puts his head in her lap. One of her hands immediately goes to his hair, and he lightly kisses her stomach. "That's nice." She thinks he's fallen back asleep when he turns over and looks up at her from under the paper. "I was thinking something." "That's good." "About the holidays." "The holidays?" "Well after the holidays, really. After the inauguration." "What about it?" She's half-way listening as she turns to the style section. "We should go away somewhere." Her hand stills in his hair. "Maybe for the weekend. There's this place in Virginia with a little inn, overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains." He trails off and watches for her reaction. She's clutching the paper now, staring at the words as they blur together. "Donna, say something." "I don't know what to say," she chokes out. It's happening and she can't do anything about it. He's moving to make this thing between them serious. She hates that her gut reaction is to accept, to make love to him right there. "How do you feel?" he is staring at her with sleepy eyes and she swallows and folds the paper and puts it beside her. "I feel like you're breaking the arrangement." For reasons she can't understand, she's on the verge of breaking down and she desperately wants to avoid doing it in front of him. He gets up and leans back on the headboard, turning his head toward her. "I don't think either of us has ever followed the arrangement, do you?" "I have been," she claims, even though she knows it's a lie. In fact, she's been falling deeper and deeper in love with him. "Donna," he says softly. "When are you going to stop this?" "Stop what?" "Acting like you don't care? Acting like this is nothing more than sex for you?" "It's how I feel," she manages to say, but her voice is so shaky she hardly recognizes it. "No it's not," he whispers. "How would you know?" She turns away from him. If she can stay angry, she won't break down. "Because I know you," he says. "Because I've made love to you." She puts her hand over her mouth, feeling her eyes fill up. "Please stop," she begs him. Before he can go on, she jumps up and runs into the bathroom. There she turns on the faucet and cries sitting on the toilet. He's still on the bed when she comes out. "I'm going to go," she tells him "Donna," he moves to get up. She puts a hand up. "No, please, I just need to be by myself for awhile. I'm not blaming you for anything." He's beside her now, and he touches her hair lightly. "Donna, don't leave me." She can't stand the vulnerability in his eyes so she concentrates on putting on her pants. "I can't... I can't be with you right now." He lets her get dressed and gather all the work papers she's scattered over the apartment over the past few weeks. She barely glances at him as she leaves. On the way home, she can't stop crying. Something is definitely wrong with her. She can't express love like a normal person. Crossing from his narrow side street onto Wisconsin, she doesn't see the speeding Mercedes until it's too late. And then she sees nothing at all. tbc LAST TIME: "Donna, don't leave me." She can't stand the vulnerability in his eyes so she concentrates on putting on her pants. "I can't... I can't be with you right now." He lets her get dressed and gather all the work papers she's scattered over the apartment over the past few weeks. She barely glances at him as she leaves. On the way home, she can't stop crying. Something is definitely wrong with her. She can't express love like a normal person. Crossing from his narrow side street onto Wisconsin, she doesn't see the speeding Mercedes until it's too late. And then she sees nothing at all. ********************************************************************** Her eyes hurt so much, she has to close them again. I must have overslept, she thinks, it's already so bright outside. The next time, the brightness is accompanied by pain. The third time, she feels a hand on her forehead, brushing away her hair. When she is able to open her eyes for more than a second, she knows she's not in her bed. She has the vague idea that this has happened to her before. There was pain then, too. "Donna?" She tries to turn her head, but she can't. Anyway, she doesn't need to. "Josh." "Thank God." He steps into her view and bends down to kiss her on the cheek. "What happened to me?" "A car hit you. Don't you remember?" And then she does. She remembers everything. Josh asking her to go away with him. Freaking out and running away. Walking down the street crying, not paying attention to traffic. What a colossal screw-up she's been. "I'm sorry," she says. "What for, sweetheart?" The sweetheart stops her. They hadn't used endearments before. "For being so...me." "I like you," he smiles a little and sits on the edge of her bed. "Lou and Bram are here. The Congressman came by earlier." "Oh God," she cringes. "Do they all know what an idiot I am?" "Donna, stop. Everyone cares about you." "Yeah," she gives him a weak smile. She has a broken leg, a fractured collarbone, and a massive concussion. The young resident who examines her tells her she's lucky. She feels crappy and not at all lucky, but smiles and nods anyway. Josh gathers her stuff and takes it to his car before coming back for her. She doesn't know what to say to him. "Come on, sicky," he says. "Get up on those crutches." He helps her hobble around the room, testing out her crutches before lowering her onto the wheelchair. After loading her in the car, he turns on NPR and drives in silence. She keeps looking at him sideways; something is weird. When he takes her to her apartment, she knows something is really wrong. But what did you expect, she thinks, you ran out of his house this morning. He's gentle helping her out of the car, carrying all her stuff into the house. He turns on her air conditioner and puts on the kettle for tea while she settles on the couch and tries to curl up as best as she can. "Ok," he says, sitting next to her. "You need to take these pink pills every four hours. Don't try to manage the pain yourself, it won't work." "I won't," she says weakly. "Donna, I mean it." "Ok." He puts the bottle on the coffee-table in front of her and turns away. "I called Carol. She's coming over to help you out with cooking and stuff tonight." "Oh," she feels her heart beat faster. He's completely disengaging from her. This is what you wanted, she tells herself, this is what you wanted. "We're having Bram do the press for a week or so, until you're off the pills." "Josh..." "Please don't argue; we can't have you making statements high." "Fine." He looks at her with those warm brown eyes again, and this time she has to turn away. This is his way of breaking up. "Just ... please be careful, ok?" "Ok." She's suddenly overcome with the feeling that she'll never see him again. It might be the pills they made her take in the hospital. "Are you leaving?" He looks at her again and sighs. "Yeah, I have some work to do. I'll call you later." He doesn't look back on his way out. Carol comes over late after work. "Donna, honey, how are you feeling?" She goes directly to hug her. "We were so worried." "I'm fine. Just groggy and a little stoned." Carol gets busy in the kitchen, boiling a pot of water for pasta and slicing bread. "You're going to eat something besides take-out for a change." "Carol, thanks." She is tearing up again, and her head feels so light she has to keep touching it. They are eating on the couch, watching CNN, when Carol mutes the TV and clears her throat. "Carol, please don't lecture me. I know I'm a moron." "I wasn't going to lecture you." After a moment, she starts again. "We were just so worried about you. Josh called me on his way to the hospital." "He did?" "Yeah. Donna, he was scared out of his mind." "I'm sorry I worried you guys." "He wasn't just worried. He was terrified." She looks down and breathes. She's pushed away and scared this man so much, he wants nothing more to do with her. "It's for the best that we not see each other anymore," she says. "Are you insane?" She looks up at Carol, startled. "I really hope those are the pills talking, Donna, because that could be the stupidest things you've ever said." "Carol, come on, I'm injured here." "Seriously, I don't care. Don't you understand yet? He loves you. This man loves you." "And you think that's going to last?" "Why the hell shouldn't it?" Her eyes dart around. Maybe she's really going crazy. "Because... because, it never does." "Donna," she said quietly. "He's not Michael." "Don't you think I know that?" "Do you?" She sighs and falls back on the couch. "What the hell is wrong with me?" Carol reaches out and touches her hand. "You're just... dealing with things you ignored back then." "Well, it's ruining everything." Later, Carol gives Donna her pills and cleans up the kitchen on her way out. She huddles with a blanket on the couch, letting the political pundits on MSNBC lull her to sleep. It's dark when she suddenly wakes up. Josh hasn't called her. He said he would and he hasn't. She's never felt more alone. She sits up another hour watching TV, before picking up the phone. It's probably a bad idea, but the need to hear his voice is so strong. Maybe she'll just listen to his voicemail and hang up. He picks up on the third ring. "Josh?" "Donna, you all right?" "Yeah... I just wanted to talk to you." He is silent. "I called Carol to make sure you were Ok." "Thanks." "You should get some sleep." "I know. Just, can you stay on the line a few minutes?" He sighs. "Ok." "Are you annoyed?" "Donna, can I tell you something?" "Will I want to hear it?" "Probably not." "Are you breaking up with me?" She says it quickly. "Were we ever together?" The question makes her chest fill with such emptiness, she has to breathe out. She starts to cry quietly. "Donna, don't. I don't want you to be unhappy." "Why did you go along with it?" she says in a shaky voice. "Go along with what?" "The whole thing. The whole stupid arrangement." He is silent for seconds. "I took what you gave me." "Why?" "Are you going to make me say it? Because it's painful, Donna, and frankly I don't want to feel those things anymore." "Josh," she sobs. "I'm sorry I hurt you." "Go to sleep, Donna." And he hangs up on her. In the days that follow, he doesn't call, but gets updates from Carol every night. On the day before she returns to work, Donna takes the old photo albums of her and Michael and ties them together in a bundle before placing them in her kitchen trash can. She picks out a red suit for the next day and finally sleeps in her bed. That night she dreams that she's making love to Josh, and it's unlike anything she's ever felt. He tells her over and over how much he loves her, and she can't help but sob herself awake. She doesn't see much of him at work the following week. He's in Georgia with the Congressman and she's giving press releases from DC. On the day he returns, she's in Bram's office having lunch with him when he walks in. No one says anything for seconds, until Bram stands up. "Hey, Josh. Um, I gotta see Lou about a thing." Donna tries to laugh. "That was subtle." "How you feeling?" "Much better. Thanks." "You look good." "So do you." He looks down and scrubs at his face. "Thanks." In fact he looks great. His hair has that tousled look, and he's rolled up his shirt sleeves to the elbow. She's suddenly aroused. "I love when you do that with your sleeves." He instinctively touches his arm, and she can swear he's blushing. It's then that she decides to stop being afraid. That evening, when she's sure Josh has left the office, she goes into Bram's office and shuts the door softly. He looks up. "Hey Donna." "Bram, this may be a little insensitive of me, but I really need your help." "That doesn't sound good." "Could you get Josh to go out to the Hawk `n Dove with you tomorrow night?" "Are you trying to set us up?" "Bram." He smiles. "Are you trying to set yourself up?" "Maybe." He sighs. "Donna, Josh and I aren't exactly friends." "I know, but you're both guys." "And your point?" "Just ask him out for a guy thing." "A guy thing?" "Yeah, you know, when guys go out to discuss male issues." "Um, Donna, guys don't do that." "Just please ask him." He puts his pen down and studies her for a moment. "This is important to you?" She blushes. "It's everything to me." The next afternoon, Bram knocks lightly on Josh's door before pushing it open. He's watching CSPAN with his feet up on the desk. "Hey, man," he tries for jovial, but instead his voice cracks. Josh raises his eyebrows. "Listen, bro." Josh's eyes widen. Bram clears his throat, "look, buddy." "Is something going on?" "I was just wondering," he takes a breath and says very quickly, "If you wanted to go to the Hawk N Dove with me tonight." Josh's feet fly off the desk and he sits up. "Oh, um, that's really nice, but..." "No, no, no. I meant that I'd like to discuss something." "Oh. What?" "Well," Bram says slowly. "Some male issues." "Do you have a medical problem?" "No. It's um, about love." Josh opens his mouth and then shuts it. "I don't think I can help you with that." "But you can. Listen I really need to talk to a guy." "Don't you have any friends?" Bram squeezes his eyes shut. "No, man." "None?" "I'm really lonely." Josh runs his hands through his hair and looks embarrassed. "Listen, if this is about Donna..." "No," he says quickly. "It's about, um, Lou." "Lou? You've got to be kidding." "No. I'm, uh, totally in love with her." "Lou Thornton?" Bram puts a hand over his mouth. "Yep." "Wow. Ok, we can take a dinner break later." "Great." Afterwards, Bram goes immediately to Donna's office. "I'm going to need compensation for this. I just told Josh that I'm in love with Lou." She gasps. "What? Are you crazy?" "Apparently." "Didn't you plan it out?" "Do you think I have nothing better to do than to plan out your secret love scenarios?" She cringes. "Sorry. Listen, the whole night's on me." "Damn straight it is." In the evening, Josh and Bram sit in a booth at the Hawk N' Dove nursing happy hour beers and a basket of onion rings. "So," Josh starts. "Lou." "Yeah, Lou." "Have you told her how you feel?" "Oh, um, yeah." "What did she say?" "Oh, she's totally into me." "Then what's the problem?" "Well," Bram puts his hand on the back of his head and rubs at it. "We've been having too much sex." Josh almost chokes on his Sam Adams. "That's your problem?" His voice goes up a notch. Bram takes a breath and looks around the bar wildly. Thankfully, Donna is just walking in. "Hey," he almost yells. "It's Donna." Josh immediately turns around. Bram jumps up, and walking up to her, whispers into her ear. "I'm getting the hell out of here." "What? You have to stay for at least a few minutes to ease the transition." "Ease him yourself." "Bram, please." "Listen, Donna, you have nothing to worry about." "Did he mention me?" "No, we talked about my hot sex with Lou." "What?" "Just, go seduce him or whatever you're going to do. I gotta go home and think about this Lou stuff." He hurries away before she can stop him, and she's left staring at Josh, who hasn't taken his eyes off her the whole time. You can do this, she tells herself. You can fix things with the man whose heart you trampled on a few weeks ago. Shit. "Hey, Josh," she sits down. He clears his throat, "Hi." "Um, Bram had to leave in a hurry." "I have a feeling I know where he went. What are you doing here?" "Oh, I though I'd get a drink." "By yourself?" "Yeah. I always do this." He furrows his brow. "You do?" "Yeah." "Are you trying to... meet someone?" "What? No." He nods and they stare at each other for seconds. She takes a breath. "Josh, can I tell you how sorry I am again?" He looks away. "You don't have to." "I want to. It's just that, I've had these issues with Michael..." "Dr. Freeride?" "Yeah, and I've been convinced that nothing can work out for me, and that if we get serious, you'll eventually walk out on me." She bites her lip and waits for his reaction. "I wouldn't walk out on you," he says immediately. "I think I know that." He says nothing, and she moves toward him a little in the booth. "Can you... will you trust me?" She is holding her breath, her hands shaking besides his on the seat. "Do you love me?" He looks at her directly, his eyes a darker color than usual. "I've loved you for eight years." "Do you want to be with me?" "Yes," she whispers. That night when they make love, it's unlike anything she's ever known. He holds her against his body and tells her over and over how much he loves her, his hands outlining her, touching her in the deepest places she's ever known. "Tell me again," he whispers. And she does. end.