A New Beginning by: Evelyn (bookfan221209@yahoo.com) Summary: A health scare for Leo helps Josh and Donna come to an understanding Category/Pairing: Josh/Donna Written: December 2002 Rating: YTEEN Disclaimers: Everything belongs to Mr. Sorkin. Spoilers: Through Holy Night Author's Note: Thanks so much to Shelley for her fabulous editing and her insight into all things Sorkin and the world of double and single quotation marks. Thanks too to Rhonda for her fashion advice. And, most especially, many thanks to all of you who have been so kind in your feedback for previous stories. It's so nice to share a love of this delightful couple with all of you. May the new year bring each of you health, happiness, and continued enjoyment of this wonderful show. 'Those are good stories about you, though. Those stories would make me like you.' 'You like everybody.' "No I don't... There are lots of people I don't like, and you're the only one I like like... Didn't you get the note that I asked Tommy Jackson to pass you in study hall?" Josh Lyman threw down his pen in disgust. It bounced, rolled across his desk, and landed on the floor. He shook his head as he thought about that night before Thanksgiving and his own stupidity. Now two months later, he was stuck in his office on a Friday evening, trying to concentrate on the administration's bill to reduce infant mortality. He glanced over the statistics that Donna had carefully compiled and the numbers blurred as his mind returned, as it had repeatedly, to the conversations and the coulda/woulda/shoulda moments of the past 8 weeks. 'Hey ... Josh, uh ...I'm new here and ... I want to do well, and, uh, I don't want to get in between anything.' 'In between anything?' 'I have an aide who, in my life, I haven't talked about as much as you've talked about Donna in our entire relationship--yours and mine. Which is a cumulative total of seven minutes old.' 'No, no, no.' 'You sure?' "Well now that you mention it, you're right. You can't date her. In fact you can't even talk to her. She's mine and always has been." Josh ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation and tried again to focus. 'What did you mean?' 'I meant that I wasn't keeping you here on purpose.' 'Why would I think you were doing that?' 'I wasn't.' 'Why would I think you were?' 'I don't know, it was just ... something I said. Listen, it doesn't have to be a disaster, you know. We could finish this up in fifteen minutes and then go to my apartment where we'll make love all night." 'That sounds nice. ' "Damn right that sounded nice," he thought. Then he stood up from his desk chair, turned and stared out the window, berating himself again for not saying anything before Thanksgiving or before Christmas. But even worse he was angry with himself for not saying anything in the last three weeks since Donna had told him that she'd broken up with Jack Reece. "Donna, I think you're the most beautiful, enchanting, intelligent woman I've ever met." He envisioned his voice as low, seductive, maybe even dangerous. "I fantasize about making love to you in this office," he pictured locking the door, pushing her up against it, his breathing ragged, leaning down to capture her lips..."Donna, I need..." "You need what? " "Donna!" "Yes, Josh. What do you need?" Josh spun around and faced his assistant. "Come on Josh," Donna said, her hands on her hips, and her voice a mixture of professional interest and irritation, "You said it wouldn't be any problem if I left early. What do you possibly need that can't wait until morning?" He opened his mouth to answer, but stood there gawking, gaping at the sight of the blonde goddess before him. "What??" she asked, a little self-consciously, looking down at her outfit. "We're going out drinking and dancing. It's Margaret's birthday. What did you think I'd wear?" He didn't know how to answer, so he stood there, his mouth agape, and stared at the beautiful bare alabaster shoulders in front of him. Donna was wearing a red, halter-style turtleneck. When she stooped to pick up his fallen pen, he could see that her halter top dipped low on her back. Her black, form-fitting pants emphasized the curves that were normally disguised by the conservative work clothes she wore to the office. He shifted around in his seat, trying to disguise the tightening of his own pants. She walked around the desk and silently held out her hand with the pen. He looked up, and then up again, because she seemed taller. Then he looked down and noticed that Donna had on black strappy, stiletto heels, that made her legs go on and on and on. "So what do you need, Josh?" "Need?" he squeaked, and quickly took the pen from her hand. "When I walked in here to tell you that I was leaving, I heard you mutter, 'Donna, I need...' So what is it? Margaret and Carol are waiting and you're gonna be late for your meeting with Leo," Donna looked pointedly at her watch and impatiently tapped her foot. "I was...I was..." he tried frantically to think of something he needed, well, something he could tell her he needed without getting slapped with a sexual harassment suit. "Yes....Come on Josh, spit it out." "I need a new pen," he blurted out. "This one is out of ink," and he tossed it into his trashcan as if it were on fire. She silently opened the middle drawer of his desk, drew out an identical pen, and presented it to him with much ceremony. "Um, thank you," he said quietly, looking into her eyes. "Um..." "Yes?" and he noticed that her voice had dropped to a whisper. "I was just thinking..." "What were you thinking?" and he wondered again if maybe she knew what he'd been thinking for weeks. "Maybe tomorrow, we could..." "Donna?" They both instantly turned their heads. Once again, Josh found himself resembling a fish, his mouth wide open in wonder at the sight of Margaret and Carol who were standing in his doorway. The two senior assistants were also dressed for life outside the West Wing. Margaret was wearing black leather pants, a tight scooped-neck black sweater, a studded dog collar, and a worn denim jacket. Carol had shed her librarian-like clothes for a pair of low-rider, ripped jeans, a beige camisole, topped with a sheer over-blouse that stopped about an inch above her pants. "You ready to ditch this joint?" the redheaded assistant grinned. Donna turned back and looked expectantly at Josh. He still couldn't find his voice, so he merely nodded his farewells. Donna hesitated for a moment, staring, he was sure, into his very soul, then turned to join her friends. He struggled to breathe as he caught a glimpse of her blonde hair swinging over her bare shoulders, her hips swaying as she walked to the door on her high, high heels. "Be careful," he called before he could stop himself. "Careful," Margaret laughed. "It's my birthday, Josh. Careful is the last thing I want to be." "I wasn't talking about you," he muttered to himself as the three women left his office. "One Jack Daniels straight up, one no-salt blended margarita, and one whiskey sour with extra maraschino cherries," Donna shouted to the bartender over the throbbing salsa beat which blasted from the state-of-the-art sound system at Seven, one of the string of bars and dance clubs on 18th Street. She glanced over to her companions who were leaning against the walnut bar surveying the crowd of DC hipsters who packed the dance floor looking to groove and flirt. Even in the club's dim light, she could see the gleam in Margaret's eye as she zeroed in on an attractive trio of men who passed the critical test that the three women had agreed upon for the night - no man under six feet tall would be considered. She slid the Jack Daniels over to Margaret, who took an appreciative sip, before fixing her gaze once more on the evening's prey. "I get the redhead," said the birthday girl. "Carol, the guy with glasses looks like your type." "He's bald," the press assistant whined. "But he's not trying to hide it with the comb-over crap, so he must be intelligent," Margaret cut her off. "Besides, that's Dan Shapoff and he was just named the new minority counsel to the House Appropriations Committee." "So he's a numbers guy?" Carol continued to complain. "No, he's a Harvard law school graduate who broke up with his girlfriend six months ago, had a brief rebound thing with the legislative assistant in Sherman's office, and is now ready for a relationship again. Plus he knows how to dip," Margaret reeled off impressively. The other two women stared in frank admiration. "What?" the redhead shrugged, taking another sip of her drink, "I hear things." "And I get...? Donna asked expectantly. "The guy with the slightly receding hairline, but nice brown curls at the nape of his neck," Margaret pointed out. "I don't want him," Donna pouted. "I know you don't want this particular version." Margaret ignored Donna's glare, "But it's my birthday, I want the redhead, the man meets the height criteria, and you want a night of fun, not a lifetime commitment." She paused and looked directly at her friend. "That you'll have to get elsewhere...if you finally get up your nerve and make a move," she added, sporting a wicked smile. Donna gave a not-completely playful smack to the birthday girl's shoulder and took a sip of her whiskey sour, wondering if she'd feel a little more in the party mood by drink number two. Her mind wandered briefly, again, to the look she caught in Josh's eye before she left the office It was the same hopeful, or was it wistful?, look she'd caught on several other occasions in the last three weeks. But she shook her head to clear it of all thoughts of Josh Lyman and turned her attention back to the brown eyes that were staring at her from across the bar. "What do you know about receding hairline guy?" she asked. She gave a questioning glance as she watched Margaret shrug off her denim jacket and wriggle her bottom. "These damn leather pants are hot," the redhead muttered. "They do look good," Carol agreed. "No, dammit. They're hot, they're sticking to my butt and I'm sweating in a not-very-ladylike way." "I think the dog collar might have been the first clue that being ladylike wasn't tops on your agenda," Donna whispered with a devilish grin. "So what's the lowdown on the redhead and his buddy." "I think the redhead is deputy associate counsel at Commerce. Jamison just brought him in and I have no clue about your guy. But after a second drink," she continued, slugging back her whisky, "I'm sure he'll do just fine," and she turned around and motioned to the bartender for a second round. Donna and Carol hastily downed their drinks. "Hey Margaret," said the guy with the glasses who suddenly appeared before them with his two buddies. "Good to see you. Who are your friends?" "Dan Shapoff, this is Carol," and Margaret deftly shifted slightly to left so the minority counsel could slide in next to the press assistant. "And this is Donna," pointing to her friend on the right. "This is Bill McIvor," pointing to the redhead who slid in next to the birthday girl, "and this is John Franklin," who sidled up next to Donna and offered a warm smile. Just then the bartender brought the women a fresh round of drinks, and the men hastily picked up the tab for their companions. "You want to grab that table?" Bill yelled over the din. Nodding their agreement, the six threaded their way through the crowd to a small table in as quiet a corner as could be found in the club and settled down. Donna found herself feeling a little shy and realized she was indeed lame with this whole dating scene. But taking another sip of her whiskey sour, she smiled and asked John, "What brought you to DC?" "Arent Fox," he smiled, "and the Wizards." "A law firm and a basketball team?" "I joined the firm and represent the owners of the team," John explained. "A basketball fan are you?" she grinned. "Yep, I hate baseball with a passion, but basketball and football, now those are real sports." Donna absorbed that information and then asked, "Did you play?" "Sure in high school, but there comes a day in every boy's life--and it's a hard day--but there comes a day when he realizes he's never going to play professional basketball or football." "You realized that pretty early?" she laughed. "Yeah. That's when I figured out if I couldn't play on the team, then I could at least help manage it," he grinned. "How about you? What do you do?" "I work in the White House with these two" pointing a finger at her friends who were deep into their own conversations. "What do you do?" "I'm the assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff," she said softly. "That's Josh Lyman?" John asked. "He's the guy who got shot, right?" "Yes," Donna answered, uncomfortable about the turn in the discussion. John took a sip of his beer and asked, "You from DC?" Relieved that the conversation hadn't continued down that road, she laughed and said, "I don't think anyone is ever from DC. No, I'm from Wisconsin." "No kidding. So am I," he laughed. "A fellow cheesehead. Personally I can't wait to get out of this city and head back to the Midwest. I mean DC's fun for a while, but the political stuff gets old fast." Donna took a long sip of her drink. "Want to dance?" John asked and Donna quickly rose from her seat. The music was fast and loud. John was a good dancer and he and Donna moved in sync, and then laughed hysterically as they watched Dan Shapoff dip Carol low to the floor as the song ended. Margaret stayed at the table in deep conversation with Bill McIvor. As the DJ spun a slow ballad, John put his arms around Donna's waist and she encircled his neck with her arms. They swayed to the beat, and the club uncharacteristically quieted. As he moved around the floor, Donna saw Margaret look down at the beeper attached to the waist of her leather pants. The redhead quickly reached into her purse, flipped open her cell phone, and hit a speed dial number. "Want to go to the Wizards game on Sunday?" John asked. Donna didn't answer. She was too busy watching the changing emotions on Margaret's face. "I said, would you like to go to.." "I'm sorry," Donna stood back from her dancing partner and headed quickly over to the table, where Margaret had shot to her feet and reached for her coat. "What is it?" "Leo collapsed. They've taken him to GW," Margaret gasped. "I've got to get to the hospital." "Who's Leo?" John asked, joining them at the table. "He's the Chief of Staff, our boss...our friend," Donna said hurriedly, grabbing her coat and Carol's as well. "We've got to go." "My car's right down the block. I'll drive you," John offered. "Thanks," Margaret and Donna answered in unison, now in a virtual dead run to the club's exit. "I'm going to head back to the White House," Carol called. "CJ will need me." "Hurry," Donna yelled, as John struggled into his coat. Josh needs me, she thought to herself. "Can't you drive any faster?" Donna hissed as the car careened around Dupont Circle. She was sitting in the backseat next to Margaret, Bill in the passenger seat, next to John who was driving. "I'm going as fast as I can. I don't know why but the traffic's backing up," he answered, maneuvering around a slow Volvo, and shooting down 19th street. "It's because the President's at the hospital," Margaret explained. "The Secret Service is probably closing surrounding streets." "I thought you said some guy named Leo was taken to the hospital," John asked over his shoulder. "Leo is the President's chief of staff...and best friend," Donna said softly. "The President's there." She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, then added in a whisper, "So's Josh." Turning onto Pennsylvania Avenue, they could see flashing lights in the distance, and cars at a complete standstill. "We'll get out here," Margaret announced, unsnapping her seatbelt and reaching for the door handle. "Thanks." "Wait, I'll...I'll call you tomorrow," John called. Donna slid across the seat, her words jumbling together, "Thanks, it was nice meeting you, but.." and she shook her head. She got out of the car, and the two women began walking quickly towards the hospital ahead. The DC police had closed off Pennsylvania Avenue around 20th Street, about a half block from the Emergency Room entrance. Donna and Margaret jogged the last fifty feet to the police barricade. "We work at the White House," Margaret said breathlessly, reaching for her White House ID. "Sorry, nobody's allowed in," the young cop said firmly. "You don't understand. Leo McGarry has been admitted and I'm his personal assistant. I've got to get in," the redhead insisted, trying to remain calm and exhibiting patience she didn't have. "And I've got strict orders. Nobody's allowed in." The cop dropped his voice to a whisper, "The President is in there." "I know the President is in there," Margaret snapped. "For that matter, I know the President. I work in the office next to his." "Yeah, right," the cop snorted. "Look, you've got to move along. I need to keep this area clear in case the motorcade has to leave." Margaret shot a steely glare at the officer and moved away, as Donna reached into her purse, pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed a number. "Debbie? This is Donna." Margaret looked up appreciatively. "We're at the hospital, but the police officer in front of the Emergency Room entrance won't let us in. Can you call Ron Butterfield and get him to...Right. I'll call as soon as I know anything. Thanks," and she clicked off the phone. Within moments, the two women saw the young cop reach for his walkie-talkie, listen to some squawking, and then quickly motion to the assistants, moving the barricade out of the way. They ran into the Emergency Room and spotted an agent they knew. "Where?" Margaret yelled across the lobby. "Down that hall and to the left," the agent gestured and the two women raced down the corridor, their heels clicking against the tile floor. They drew up short at a familiar waiting room. Donna inhaled sharply, then pushed open the door, and quickly scanned the lounge. President and Mrs. Bartlet were seated on adjoining chairs, in quiet conversation, their hands clasped together tightly. Across the room she spotted Josh, leaning against the wall, his hands shoved deeply in his pockets. She crossed swiftly, nodding at the First Couple, and stood before the Deputy Chief of Staff. He didn't respond, staring at the floor, lost in a dark, forbidding forest of his own thoughts. "Josh?" she said softly, reaching out and lightly touching his cheek. He looked up, confused, with frightened eyes. Donna stepped closer and slowly placed her arms around his shoulders and pulled him to her in a warm embrace. He froze for a moment, then brought his hands out of his pockets and wrapped them tightly around her waist, burying his head in her shoulder, inhaling the sweetness of her melon-scented shampoo. She could feel him start to relax. "I was so scared," he finally whispered. "I know," she gently rubbed her hands up and down his back. "You're not alone, Josh. I'm here with you." She leaned back and looked into his eyes, and touched her right hand to his cheek. He covered her hand with his own, then brought her close again in a tight embrace. She rested her head on his chest, he kept her hand clasped tightly in his. He began to speak softly. "We were talking, just going over the infant mortality bill and the senators I should see this week. You know, to close the deal." She nodded silently and he continued. "He looked a..a little funny, like he had indigestion or something. He rummaged around in his drawer and took out a roll of Tums and popped one in his mouth. I kidded him that he had to knock off those cream sauces." He paused and took a shaky breath. "God, Donna, I was teasing him and he was in the middle of having a heart attack. What was I thinking?" She could hear the anguish and guilt in his voice. She leaned back so she could see his face. "Shhh. You didn't do anything wrong, Josh. You didn't know. *He* didn't know." He scanned her face, looking for the truth, and saw it in her eyes. He pulled her close again. "We talked for a few more minutes and I noticed that he seemed to be rubbing his left arm and then I saw beads of sweat on his forehead. I said, 'Leo, what's the matter? Do you want me to get somebody?' But he laughed and told me he was fine. We started to walk out of his office. I was going home, Donna. He told me he was gonna call it an early night...and then...then," his voice broke and she could feel dampness on her neck. She gently rubbed his back and made soothing noises. "It's okay, Josh. I'm here." He gulped and choked back a sob. "He stumbled and then started to collapse. I grabbed him and gently laid him down on the floor. I screamed for help and the President ran into the office. I guess Debbie or maybe Charlie called the White House Physician's Office and...and...Dr. Mackey came running in and then the ambulance came and..." She could feel him start to shake and again she offered him the comfort of her touch and soothing voice. "Shhh, shhh. It's okay, Josh. It's okay." She could hear him fighting for control and she waited patiently until he at last leaned back against the wall, but pulled her close to him. She finally asked, "Did they tell you anything? Have the doctors...?" "Nothing," he shook his head. "It's been about 45 minutes and we've heard nothing. What will I do if he..." he whispered, but couldn't finish the sentence. "Stop. We don't know anything yet. But Josh, whatever it is, we'll get through it together. We'll handle it," she said softly, and he could hear her firm resolve. "Okay," he sighed in relief. They stood quietly together for a few moments, when suddenly they heard, "Mr. President? Mr. Lyman?" Josh and Donna turned to look at the nurse standing in the doorway. "The doctor would like to see you. Could you come this way, please?" Josh searched Donna's face, and she nodded imperceptibly. "I'll be right here waiting for you." He nodded, straightened up, and then followed the President out of the room. Donna watched as Josh followed the President and the ER nurse out the waiting room door. She stood there for a moment, lost in her own thoughts, aching to be with Josh as he walked down these familiar, but terrifying, halls. She longed to give him the comfort she knew he needed. She closed her eyes and wondered if, somehow, she could convey that support through her thoughts, as if she could will him to know that she was with him, just like she had promised. She was startled when her reflections were interrupted by a soft voice. "Do you know if anyone has called Mallory and Jordan?" Donna looked up to find Margaret standing in front of her. She'd forgotten about her friend, who looked pale, but determined. "I don't know. Josh didn't say," Donna answered. "Perhaps Mrs. Bartlet knows." Margaret turned to the First Lady who was still seated in the waiting room chair. Her head was bowed, her hands clasped together, her eyes closed, her lips moving in silent prayer. "Excuse me, Mrs. Bartlet?" Margaret asked tentatively. The First Lady opened her eyes. "I'm sorry. I was just..." "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know if anyone has called Mallory and Jordan?" Margaret said gently. The First Lady sprung from her chair. "I don't know if anyone called them. Maybe Charlie? Debbie?" She started for the door. "I'll check," Margaret placed a hand on the First Lady's arm, "and if not, I'll call them." Abbey gave the redhead a grateful look and sank slowly back down into the chair. Donna exchanged glances with Margaret. "I'll be right back," Margaret said. "I've got to go outside to use my cell phone." "They'd probably let you use the phone at the ER admitting desk," Donna offered, sliding into a seat opposite the First Lady. "That's okay. I have all the numbers programmed on my cell. I won't be long," and she headed out. Donna looked furtively at the First Lady, who seemed unsettled and totally unlike her usual brisk, confident self. She didn't know if she should say anything or sit in silence. She considered leaving, but wanted to be exactly where she had promised Josh he would find her. "This is so much harder than the last time." Donna was startled by Abbey's words. A glance at the First Lady's face revealed the pain and worry that tormented her. "Maybe it's just that we've been through so much and I thought...I thought we'd finally come out the other side," The First Lady confessed. Donna wasn't sure that the First Lady was actually talking to her, or just saying out loud the thoughts that were haunting her. "I let my guard down," Abbey continued in a rush, not waiting for any response from Donna. "I wasn't prepared for this. I should have been. All of them...they don't take care of themselves. I should have seen this coming." "Shhh. It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. These things happen," Donna offered calm reassurance. "I don't know how Jed will cope if something happens to Leo," Abbey whispered. "Like he always does...with you. You'll get through it together," Donna said softly. The First Lady searched the younger woman's face and saw only strength and truth. She took a deep cleansing breath and began to relax. Then Abbey smiled softly and said, in such a quiet whisper that Donna had to strain to hear, "Do you remember my birthday party last year?" "Yes," she answered, blushing at the memories of that night. "I proudly took credit for bringing Josh and Amy together," Abbey continued. Donna tensed, sitting up straight in her chair, wrapping her arms around herself in self-defense, looking the First Lady square in the eye, but unable to think of what to respond. The First Lady plowed on quickly, with a rueful, regretful smile. "I was wrong. That was yet another terrible mistake in a mistake-filled year. I'm so sorry. I should have..." "It's ok," Donna interrupted the First Lady and offered a shy smile. "And do you remember later that night, when we were in the Residence, drinking at my personal pity party?" "Lord, yes," Donna laughed. "I admired you for being the only one with the courage to tell me the truth." "And I immediately regretted it," Donna chuckled quietly. "No, no, no," the First Lady insisted. "It's that honesty and strength that will get the two of you through the hard times when his ego is bigger than the state of Texas," she paused and the two women shared a smile. "Or when his confidence starts to waver and the self-doubt and guilt threaten to consume him." Donna nodded, listening closely. "When I gave up my license, people thought I had sacrificed my career on the altar of my husband's ambition. They didn't know that by finally taking responsibility for my actions, I was reclaiming that part of me that I'd lost when Jed and Leo and Josh and all of you embarked on this Quixotic quest." "It's that strength that will get you and the President through this," Donna reached across the space between the chairs and grabbed hold of the First Lady's hands. Abbey smiled and added tentatively, "I...I don't think that they'll give you any trouble..." Donna caught the First Lady's eyes and held her gaze. "I don't care if they do." The older woman nodded, acknowledging the resolute confidence she heard in Donna's voice. "But if they do, I promise I'll kick their butts from here to Canada." "My native country," Donna laughed. He felt his heart racing and struggled with dizziness. Panic threatened to engulf him from the moment he left Donna's embrace. The hospital walls seemed to be closing in on him and images from a few years earlier came rushing back. He glanced over to the President, his face a stony mask that hid his emotions. They walked quickly in silence, following the ER nurse, until they came to the glass-walled treatment room. And then they saw Leo. He was lying on a narrow gurney, ashen and still, wires attached to his chest tethering him to life-monitoring machines; IV's snaked into the veins in his arms; oxygen tubes in his nostrils. He looked small, frail, and so pale that the white sheets that covered him stood in stark contrast to his pallor. Josh heard a muffled sob, and glanced over to the leader of the free world who was fighting desperately for control. At that moment, Josh knew what Donna expected of him. He straightened up, finding a strength he didn't know he had. "Leo's a street fighter," he whispered, putting an arm around the President's shoulders. "He's beaten much bigger things than this." "I did this to him. I pushed too hard, demanded too much, yelled too often," the President shook his head, consumed by the grief and regret that gnawed at him. "No, you didn't," Josh said firmly. "The last five years have been the happiest time in his life. And we're gonna have to fight tooth and nail to keep him down while he recovers," he added with a small smile. The President stared at the younger man, drawing on his reserves of strength, then wiped his eyes, and sporting a crooked grin, pushed open the door to the examining room. "Hey old man, you scared the living crap out of the leader of the free world." Leo's eyes fluttered open. He saw two smiling faces and offered one of his own. "You scare too easy," his voice hoarse and raspy. "So what's the verdict?" the President demanded, looking to the doctor who was reading the printout of the heart monitor. "Mr. McGarry is suffering from angina..." "So he didn't have a heart attack?" Josh asked, relief in his voice. "No. From the EKG, echocardiogram, and blood tests we've run, we think this was a warning shot." "What the man is saying is I'm fine,"Leo interrupted. "Actually, that's not what I'm saying at all," the doctor looked sternly at the patient before him, who glared back. "Mr. McGarry would like nothing more than for me to release him from the hospital in the next 30 minutes. He asked for the two of you in the belief that you will support him in this folly. I'm hoping that you will talk some sense into him. I'd like to keep him here for a few days and run additional tests. I want to rule out any blocked arteries. He wants to wait, preferably until the end of the Bartlet administration," the doctor continued, his patience quickly evaporating. "Leo," the President warned. "Don't start with me Mr. President. I'm not being a martyr, but the next couple of months are gonna make your legacy. I'll follow up...just not today," Leo insisted, struggling to sit up. "Lie down, now," Josh said sharply, and all eyes turned to him. Then in a softer voice, Josh added, putting a hand on his mentor's shoulder. "Leo, you're not going anywhere until the doctor says so. We need you." "I know. That's why..." "And that's why you're gonna do whatever they tell you to do. Because we can't take the chance..." Josh's voice cracked. He took a deep breath, then continued, "*I* can't take any chances with old friends of my father." Leo searched in the young man's eyes and saw love and concern mirrored back. He grasped Josh's hand, then lay back quietly on the gurney. "This is a critical time," he began softly. "I know," Josh nodded. "You'll have plenty of people to help you. Fitz, Nancy, Albie Duncan on foreign affairs; on the domestic side, Toby's there, call Sam, even that new kid, Will Bailey..." "We'll be fine and you'll be back soon," the President said with confidence, grasping hold of Leo's other hand. "In the meantime, Josh will do a fine job. You've trained him well and besides... he's got Donna." The Deputy Chief of Staff looked up quickly and caught the smile on the face of the leader of the free world. He grinned in return. "Someone want to let me in on this little secret?" came a raspy complaint from the man on the gurney. "Let's just say that your little heart incident gave someone else's heart a solid jolt as well," the President smirked. "You always did like to talk in riddles," Leo groused good-naturedly, then grinned at his prot‚g‚. "If I could break up this little love fest," the doctor interrupted, "I'd like to move Mr. McGarry to the cardiac unit. We'll start the tests in the morning." "Dad?" came a scared voice at the door. "It's ok baby," Leo said gently. "I'm going to be just fine," as Mallory rushed across the room. "We'll see you in the morning, Leo," Josh said quietly. "Good night, my old friend," and the leader of the free world leaned over, kissed Leo on the cheek, then walked out with Josh, heading down the corridor to the waiting room. "He's going to be ok," Josh said softly. "Yes, he is" the President agreed. Stopping, he faced the Deputy Chief of Staff and said firmly, "Leo has every confidence in you...so do I." "Thank you, Sir. I won't let either of you down." "Ok, what's next?" "They'll schedule an angiogram within the next day or so and that should tell which, if any, of his arteries are blocked." The First Lady had cornered one of the consulting cardiologists in the hallway and was now reporting back to Donna and Margaret. "So it definitely wasn't a heart attack?" Margaret asked anxiously. "He's lucky. No heart attack, but a clear warning that further tests are needed," Abbey explained. "From what I understand, Leo wants to check out of the hospital tonight." "What?" Margaret yelped, starting to rise and go do battle with her boss. The First Lady put a gentle restraining hand on the redhead. "Jed and Josh are figuratively tying him down to the bed at this moment." "What happens next?" Donna asked softly. "If the angiogram shows a blocked artery, they may be able to clean it out with angioplasty." "My uncle had that. Sort of like a Roto-Rooter job for the heart," Margaret said with a smile. "Right," Abbey agreed. "But if things are more complicated, he may need bypass surgery." The three women were quiet, thinking about this possibility. "How dangerous is it?" Margaret worried. Abbey paused and said thoughtfully, "Of course there are risks, but Leo's basically in good shape so I wouldn't expect any complications. And the results from bypass surgery are excellent." "How long is the recuperation period?" Donna asked. "I think we should be prepared for Leo to be out of the office for about six weeks." "And arguing about it the whole time," Margaret said with a smile. "I'll e-mail you 'the rules'," Donna offered. "I've heard about your rules," Abbey laughed. "I'm thinking of posting them in the Residence for the next time Jed gets sick." They all chortled, starting to relax for the first time in hours. After a moment, Abbey looked carefully at the two young women and was confused. "Margaret, Donna?" "Ma'am?" Margaret answered quickly. "Aren't you warm? Take off your coats," she suggested, looking quizzically at the two women with their winter jackets on, buttoned to the top. "No, no. We're just fine," Donna said immediately, checking to be sure that her top button was still closed, and hastily peering over to be sure that Margaret was also suitably covered up. "La...dies?" The First Lady asked, with a teasing tone to her voice. "Um, you see, it's Margaret's birthday," Donna began hesitantly. "Yes?" Abbey cocked a skeptical eye at the two assistants. "We went out to celebrate so, um... we're not dressed in our usual business attire," Margaret offered in what she hoped sounded like a professional voice. Abbey peered more closely at the women's attire. "Do I detect a dog collar peeking out of your coat?" "It's possible that I have a leather necklace on," Margaret hedged. "And are those kickass leather pants you're wearing?" Abbey continued, glancing down at the redhead's legs. "That's also possible," Margaret parried. "Are they comfortable?" Abbey asked with genuine interest. "They're hot," Margaret answered. "I agree that they look good, but I wondered..." "No, I mean they're hot...they make me sweat and they stick to my..." "What Margaret is trying to say is that the material doesn't breathe," Donna jumped in, remembering exactly the redhead's earlier complaint. "So what are you wearing under that coat?" Abbey asked, turning her attention to the blonde of the group. "Just, um, a red turtleneck and black pants," Donna murmured, suddenly fascinated by her fingernails. "I want to see both outfits," the First Lady ordered with a smile. Margaret glanced over to Donna, who shrugged her shoulders. Both stood up, unbuttoned their coats and flashed their fashions, sporting big grins. They took off their coats and sat back down. "Wow! You must have been beating them off with sticks tonight," Abbey laughed. "We did alright," Margaret agreed. "I'm pretty sure I'm gonna hear from my guy, and if Donna hadn't totally brushed off the fella she met..." "Oh I think that Donna got her guy tonight," the First Lady grinned. Margaret nodded in agreement, while the blonde assistant blushed. "Abbey?" They all turned to find the President standing in the doorway. Donna and Margaret hastily leapt to their feet, while Abbey moved swiftly to hug her husband. They could hear her murmur, "He'll be fine, Jed. It really looks good." Donna looked around for Josh, anxious to see him, but he wasn't with the President. "Let's go," the Chief Executive motioned to the assistants. "We're heading back to the White House." "Where's Josh?" Donna asked, concern in her voice. "He's talking to Ron about setting up a detail to protect Leo, then arranging with the hospital for a press conference in an hour to update reporters on Leo's condition. We'll leave one of the agents behind to bring him back." "Then I'll stay here..." "No. He said for you to go back to the White House and implement Code Four - he said you'd know..." "Yes, sir, I'll handle it," Donna called out as she hustled to keep up with the First Family who were moving quickly to the waiting motorcade. Donna glanced around the lobby hoping to catch a glimpse of Josh, without success. She went out into the cold night air. "So you'll take the 11 o'clock appointment with Senator Harris, and Ed will cover the conference meeting on the education bill?" Donna handed Larry a stack of folders. They were in the DCOS office and she was clearing much of Josh's schedule for the next week, in anticipation of the meetings he would have to cover for Leo. "Will Josh go to the bi-partisan leadership breakfast on Wednesday?" Larry asked. "Not sure. I'll check," and Donna added it to her list of items she needed to review with Josh. "Do you know if Josh called Senator..." Larry started, but was interrupted by the bellowing voice of the Deputy Chief of Staff hurrying down the hallway. "Donna? Donna?" Josh came rushing into his office, his face flushed. "Donna, I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk.." He came to a screeching halt when he saw that his assistant wasn't alone in the office. "Larry...I didn't realize you were here." "Hey Josh. Glad to hear that Leo's going to be alright. I know you're swamped, but Ed and I need about fifteen minutes of your time," the political assistant insisted. "Sure," he nodded, "but later, after the staff meeting in the Roosevelt Room." "Ok. I'll meet you down there," Larry said as he exited the office. Josh watched him leave, then took a step closer to Donna. "I'm sorry I couldn't ride back with you. I wanted to tell you..." "Josh?" Margaret stuck her head in the doorway. The Deputy Chief of Staff took a deep breath in frustration, then spun around to face Leo's assistant, who looked tired, but determined. "Admiral Fitzwallace and Dr. McNally will be here in an hour. Do you want to meet in your office or in Leo's?" she asked. "I think in Leo's. The President may join us. But before that meeting, can we go over Leo's appointments for the next week? " "I've already printed them out. I'll be back in ten minutes and bring you the list in the Roosevelt Room." "Where are you going now?" Josh asked, confused. Margaret dangled a hanging bag of clothes. "I thought I should ditch the dog collar and leather pants," she grinned. Josh laughed. "Fitz would probably love 'em!" Margaret started to leave when Josh added, "Hey Margaret?" The redhead turned back. "We all know that Leo couldn't do his job without you. And I know I can't begin to fill in for him without your help. Thank you, and I'm sorry your birthday got all messed up. We'll celebrate it again when Leo's well. Just be sure and wear that outfit," he added with a smirk. Margaret laughed. "Between Donna and me, you'll do just fine," and she headed off to the Ladies Room. "I should go with her and get changed out of these clothes," Donna started to move towards the door, when Josh grabbed her arm. "Don't change on my account," he said in a soft voice. "You look incredible in that outfit. Donna..." "Josh, will the cardiologist..." CJ came barrelling into the office. Donna quickly stepped back from Josh and began rifling through the folders on his desk. "What do you want now?" Josh said a little more sharply than he intended. "You OK?" CJ asked solicitously. He waved her off. "Sorry. I was just in the middle of something. What's the question?" "I just need to know if the doctor is coming here in the morning or if the medical update will be done at GW?" "I don't know," and he rummaged around in his pocket. "Here's his card. Can you call and..." CJ took the card, and patted Josh on the shoulder. "I'll take care of it. See you in staff in ten minutes?" "I'll be there," Josh nodded, and closed the door once the Press Secretary had exited. "Alone at last," he said quietly. "Come here," and he opened his arms. Donna hesitated for a brief second, then moved quickly to his side and melted into his embrace, her head against his shoulder. "You okay?" she murmured. "Now I am," he answered, running a hand down her bare back and pressing her closer. After a moment, he cradled her face in his hands. "Donna, you do know that what I'm feeling for you...about us...isn't just because Leo is sick, right? I've been trying for months to find the right words to tell you, but I just didn't know how." "I don't need the words, Josh. I know that now." He leaned down and gently captured her mouth with his. His tongue brushed softly against Donna's lower lip then pushed into her mouth. She moaned softly, as his tongue caressed her mouth. And then it was her turn. She pulled him closer, and feathered kisses along his jawline, then returned back to his lips, and explored his mouth with an urgency, trying to make up for lost time. He inhaled her sweet scent, and he couldn't get enough of her. He wanted more. He'd waited too long, his need was too great. She reveled in at last being in his arms, feeling his body pressed against hers. Finally, breathless, they broke apart, then grinned at each other. Reluctantly, Donna reached for the doorknob. "You've got..." Donna gasped, her lips swollen from his kisses. "a meeting in less than five minutes and I...I need to get changed." He spun her around and pressed her against the door, leaning in so his body was flush against hers. "I've had fantasies about you," he said seductively. "Fantasies about what could happen when you were up against this door," punctuating his words with kisses and nips along the alabaster skin of Donna's pale white shoulder. She groaned, her nails digging into his back, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel his body against hers, yet warring with the knowledge of where they were and what needed to be done. "I've had a few fantasies of my own that involved you, me, and that desk," she muttered, licking his earlobe, her breath, at once tickling and arousing him. "I've dreamed about making love to you just about everyplace we've ever been," he growled, kissing her deeply and ignoring the ringing phone. Reluctantly she pulled away. "Josh... the phone," she whispered. "No," he groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder. Regretfully, she pushed him off and reached for the phone. "Josh Lyman's office," she answered, clearing her throat, trying to regain her composure, while Josh circled his arms around her waist and leaned in to kiss her cheek. She listened for a few moments, then said, "I'll tell him. Thanks, Debbie." "What?" he asked, turning her to face him. "The President is going to the Residence. He said to call him when you need him for the meeting with Admiral Fitzwallace and Dr. McNally...But first..." and she stepped away from Josh, straightening out her clothes. "You need to get to the meeting in the Roosevelt Room and I need to change," she smiled. He brushed her cheek with his hand. "Promise that soon you'll wear that outfit just for me," he said softly. She nodded. "The next couple of weeks....," he began. "We'll get through them together," she said confidently. "I need you in every way possible. Am I asking too much?" Josh whispered, suddenly worried. "Never," Donna insisted. "This is where I want to be. You are who I want." "And I want you in every part of my life," Josh said firmly. "You've got me," she grinned. "Now what are you gonna do?" "I've got ideas, Donna, big ideas," he kissed her quickly on the lips. "Go, I'll see you in the Roosevelt Room," she urged, opening the door and handing him some folders. "You'll like my ideas, Donnatella. I promise," he said, walking out the door. "Go run the country," she laughed, "Then we'll try out some of your ideas. And Joshua?" He looked back expectantly. "You're not the only one who can be creative. Trust me. You'll like my ideas too."