Title: The Tell
Sequel to The Hardest Wager
Author: Lacy
Spoilers: Santos Administration
Pairings: Josh/Donna
Disclaimer: I don't own any West Wing characters. This is just for
fun, so don't sue, blah, blah, blah.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to mdrgrl1 for the beta and the constant
encouragement.
Rating: PG and NC-17. I'll post the smutty bits on JDFFNC-17. For
those readers who aren't into that kind of thing, you may just skip
those parts; you aren't missing any plot development. Though to be
honest you will miss some character development. Readers who enjoy
smut will have a better psychological view of Josh and Donna. Readers
who don't...just skip those chapters.
Synopsis: Josh finds his way towards making the next step.

AN2: This story was started on 8/31/06 and the draft was completed on
11/6/06. Damn. That's a long time.

Feedback is adored. Send it to xfwatcher@....
On with the show.



The Tell 1/21
By: Lacy


In July of 1942 Harry Hopkins married Louise Gill Macy in the Second
Floor Oval Room of the White House. Mr. Hopkins was, at that time,
the secretary to President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Despite its long
and varied history and the many weddings that had taken place there,
it was the first time on record that a White House staffer had been
given the privilege of marrying on such hallowed ground.

It seemed only appropriate that Josh Lyman and Donna Moss be allowed
to make their vows before family and friends at this place where their
relationship had endured many of its ups and downs. For convenience
and security's sake, Donna had planned a civil ceremony to take place
in the East Room, traditionally the venue for White House weddings.
She wanted simple and elegant...and to limit the number of things that
could possibly go wrong.

A thrill of excitement raced through Donna at the very thought of her
upcoming nuptials. Her thumb caressed the band of the engagement ring
on her finger, an impossible habit to break now, but Donna smiled
because she had no intention of trying.

Everything was in place. She ticked off the list in her head with an
enormous sense of accomplishment. Buy a stunning wedding gown that
will knock Josh's socks off. Check. Buy equally stunning
undergarments for same purpose. Check. Write engagement announcement
for hometown papers. Check. Visit dentist for a deep cleaning.
Donna ran her tongue over teeth. Check. Arrange itineraries for out
of town guests. Check.

Find out where the honeymoon is taking place.

Donna whipped the phone from its cradle and dialed the extension
without looking at the numbers. After two rings a familiar and chirpy
voice answered.

"I know you made the reservations. Just tell me," Donna cajoled.
"He'll never have to know."

"I swear, Ms. Moss. I didn't make any personal reservations for him.
And he hasn't mentioned a thing to me about where he's taking you."

"I believe you, Erin." Donna heard a sigh of relief travel down the
line. "Put him on the phone." The line went silent for a few seconds.

"Since we've already done Hawaii, I thought we'd do Disneyworld this
time." Josh said without as much as a hello.

"Really?" She asked, hopefully.

"Not really."

"Josh!"

His only response was a chuckle.

"This isn't funny," she pouted.

"I'm finding it very amusing."

"Tell me," she demanded.

"Paris."

"We can't go that far away," she pointed out.

It was the least he could do, as he explained to her a few months ago.
She was planning the wedding while simultaneously running the East
Wing. Their jobs...his job...prevented them from taking off for two weeks
at a beach resort, or a European city with eight hundred year old
architecture; they would have to stay in the city. At least until
after the election.

He'd negotiated a deal with her. She'd handle the wedding and he
would plan the honeymoon. After more than a few riders and codicils
throughout the negotiation process, she'd accepted his
offer...dubiously. She just never guessed that he would keep his plans
a secret until the wedding day, a process made easier by the fact that
he spent four days last week in Chicago for the Illinois primary, and
upon his return he would talk of nothing else.

"How will I know what kind of clothing to pack?" she wheedled.

"It's our honeymoon," he countered with a grin she could hear over the
phone. "You won't be needing clothes."

"Seriously, Josh."

"It'll all be taken care of, Donnatella. No worries."

"But-"

"Luv ya, bye," he said, just before she heard a click and the line
went dead.

Josh had invoked the code for
the-president's-just-walked-in-and-I-have-to-go. It worked both ways.
Donna knew that the president had entered Josh's office, and the
president knew he was talking to Donna.

"Damn!" she growled. Mildly upset with her failure to obtain the
targeted data, she was already strategizing her next plan of attack.
She wanted to know where she would be honeymooning, and she had less
than 30 hours to find out.

"Daydreaming?" a voice interrupted.

Donna sat up straight in her chair and then rose to her feet.
Standing at the door, with an infant in her arms and knowing grin was
Helen Santos. "More like scheming," Donna confessed with a wry smile.

"Still haven't found out?"

Donna shook her head. "Not a clue. I don't suppose that you --"

"I don't."

"Oh, well," she sighed. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

"I brought someone to see you."

Noelle Santos, just on the cusp of six months old, babbled incessantly
in her mother's arms.

"You did?" Donna grinned, and her plotting took a sudden backseat.
She stepped out from behind her desk and walked over to Helen and Noelle.

"I was hoping you could watch her for a while." Helen's imploring
eyes connected with Donna's, before turning back to her daughter.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure." Helen nodded. "It seems like I haven't been alone
with Matt in months. I've scheduled a little one-on-one with him."

"I'm assuming you're not talking about basketball, ma'am."

Helen laughed. "You assume correctly. Anyway, I thought she could
use some time with her godmother. Since I know you had your desk
cleared two days ago, and you're not taking on anything new for a few
days, I figured you could use the distraction as well."

You know I never mind watching Noelle -- or any of the kids for that
matter."

"Even though you're my Chief of Staff, and not a governess?" Helen's
voice was tinged with worry, hoping that Donna wasn't offended by her
request.

"Give her to me, Helen." Donna demanded the baby with mock-greed in
her voice. "Let me at this adorable baby." She swept Noelle into her
arms, delighted by the child's toothless grin. "Don't you have
somewhere to be?" she slyly inquired of the First Lady.

"If you insist," Helen leered playfully before heading for the door.
"She's been fed and changed; she should be good for at least another
hour. But I'll be back before then - a much happier woman."

Had they been talking about anyone else but President Santos, Donna
would have suggested that Helen wasn't giving her a very good
impression of her husband. But two things kept Donna from opening her
mouth: She couldn't bring herself to joke about the president's
prowess and she knew that due to his schedule, time for such
adventures was strictly limited.

"We'll be fine," Donna reassured. "Take your time."

"Oh, Donna, if only we could," Helen sighed before exiting the office.

Donna carried Noelle to the conference table in her office and took a
seat, readjusting the infant until Noelle was sitting on her knee.
Adorable baby, indeed. Noelle, unlike her older siblings, had
inherited her mother's blue eyes, a striking look against her olive
skin and dark brown curls.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Noelle. What would you like to do?"

Noelle raised her hands as if she'd just discovered that her fingers
were under her control and babbled incoherently. Her fingers
wriggled, then stopped, then wriggled again. She observed them with
all the intense interest of a scientist making the breakthrough of a
lifetime. Then, quick as whiplash, she stuck the fingers of one hand
in her mouth.

A laugh burst from Donna's mouth, leaving behind a wide toothy grin
that was etched on Noelle's face. The baby raised her hand to show
off four fingers covered in drool.

"Messy, messy." Donna laughed and grabbed some tissues from a box on
the table, using them to wipe the baby's hand. "Messy, Noelle."

"Nonononononono," she babbled happily.

Noelle was just learning her name, or rather that when she heard the
word Noelle, that people were talking about her. But the best she
could do was repeat the first sound over and over. Her string of
sounds was followed by a hiccup, which caught her by surprise. Her
face scrunched up in confusion and she looked to Donna as though she
could understand any explanation that Donna might choose to give.

"Oh, no!" Donna gasped animatedly, her eyes widening with vibrancy and
laughter, "A hiccup!" She raised Noelle's hand to her mouth and blew
a raspberry on the baby's palm, bringing forth another gurgling giggle.

"I see you're hard at work wrangling Congressmen into submission."
Josh stood framed in doorway, leaning one shoulder against the jamb,
hands stuffed in his pockets, as if he'd been resting there for awhile.

"Josh!" Donna gasped. "How long have you been standing there?"
Noelle's head turned towards the sound and she gurgled gleefully at
the sight of him. She raised her hands in his direction, preparing to
repeat the wriggly finger trick for him.

"Long enough." He held up two Styrofoam cartons. "I brought lunch."

Donna chuckled. "I take it you noticed the president is no longer in
the Oval."

"That fact did not escape my keen perception." He set the cartons on
the table and opened them.

"So confess," she commanded, without taking her eyes off Noelle.
"Did you bring me lunch because you were dying to see me, or did Mrs.
Santos happen to mention that Noelle was in my possession?"

"I'm simply taking what could be my last opportunity to see you before
you walk down the aisle...because tonight, in an attempt to placate your
mother's superstitious sensibilities, you will be staying, not in our
bed, but in an undisclosed location where I will not be allowed a
conjugal visit."

"She told you, didn't she?"

"Donna!"

"You always ramble when speaking untruths. And my mother is not
superstitious," Donna pointed out. She turned Noelle around so that
the baby's back was securely against her stomach and she was able to
wrap one arm around her to hold her in place. With her free hand she
picked through the fruit Josh brought for lunch. Locating a lush
green grape she popped it provocatively into her mouth.

"Fine," he conceded, taking a bite of what appeared to be a turkey
sandwich. "She might have mentioned it."

"In just...twenty-eight hours you will be shackling yourself to me,
metaphorically speaking, for the rest of your life. And yet it's not
the promise of my sparkling personality that brings you to my side of
the building, but that of an infant who has not yet mastered the art
of talking."

"Ah," he pointed, "that's part of the draw."

She smacked him with her free hand. "You want to hold her?"

"Nah," he shrugged.

But Noelle had other ideas. She reached both arms out towards Josh in
an express demand to be held. One glance told both Josh and Donna
that if her demands weren't taken seriously there would be
tears...possibly snot.

With a sigh and an overly dramatic grimace Josh hooked his hands
beneath her underarms and drew her from Donna's embrace, holding her
aloft. Her legs cycled below her until Josh set her feet on his
thigh. When she felt secure, she began to bounce up and down,
strengthening her legs in preparation for her first solo step. Josh's
lips contorted into a half-smile, half-grimace; humor and anxiety
mixing together on his face.

Donna continued to pick through her fruit salad as she watched him
with Noelle. "You are such a faker."

"I think I'm offended."

"You adore her, yet you pretend you don't want to hold her." Donna
reached over and grabbed a wedge of his sandwich, absconding with a
bite before setting it back in the carton. Her eyebrow arched in a
silent reprimand for the sandwich's mayonnaise content.

"Hey! I never said I didn't adore her. It's just that I don't feel
comfortable holding her."

"You don't? Really? Why?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"Maybe there isn't an answer Donna. Not every question has one.
Sometimes things just are what they are."

The last year of their lives had been one of emotional change and
upheaval. Tomorrow they would make a commitment to love each other
for the rest of their lives, a promise that was, for them, a
formality. Step by step they had reached this point, following Josh's
carefully plotted plan, but recently it was becoming clearer that some
steps were easier to take than others.

He'd promised to try, that was the important part. When he'd proposed
in his typical winner-take-all manner, he'd promised to try to be
ready for children. The birth of Noelle Santos and his subsequent
interest in her welfare had given her hope, but the limits he placed
on his contact with Noelle worried her.

In most situations he was wonderful with her, however his discomfort
become obvious whenever he had to hold Noelle or be alone with her...or
entertain her in any way. Donna knew Josh had many, many issues that
needed to be worked out; the most glaring was his fear of getting
attached.

"You've got that look," Josh's voice intruded on her thoughts.

"What look?"

"Like you're trying to work out complex calculus equations without a
pencil." He polished off the last bite of his sandwich and wiped his
hands on a napkin.

"I was very good at calculus."

"As you are with many things. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," she lied.

"Is it the wedding?"

"No," she denied without hesitation. "Why? Are you worried about the
wedding?"

"Nope."

Noelle grew tired of bouncing on his thigh and began to wave her hands
in front of Josh to get his attention. Once she had his attention she
launched into the wriggly finger trick. "Yes," he commented, as
though talking to an adult, "your fingers move. You may not know
this, but your toes wriggle too."

When she stuck her hand into her mouth and showed Josh the results, he
decided that he was done. Donna grabbed a napkin and cleaned Noelle's
hand before taking her from Josh. After a moment's consideration,
Donna settled Noelle on the Persian rug in the center of the room.
For a moment, Noelle sat erect before wavering and rolling over to her
side on the plush carpet. She let out a gleeful squeal, as if she'd
just been on a thrilling rollercoaster ride. Mrs. Santos hadn't left
any toys for Noelle, but Donna did have a nice set of jingly keys,
which she dug out of her purse and dangled in front of the infant.

Noelle was instantly captivated, both by the sight and the sound of
the keys. Wanting them for herself, she reached out and grasped at
them, wrapping her chubby little fingers around the key ring and
holding on with a death grip. Donna was only too happy to have her
occupied with something for a moment.

Josh observed from his chair with a non-committal smile on his face,
but he made no move to interact with Noelle. "She's pretty easily
entertained."

"Most babies her age are, Josh. The whole world is brand new;
everything is interesting."

Noelle, sensing that the jingling of the keys had played itself out
for the moment, decided to find out of the objects tasted good. Josh
leapt forward to retrieve the keys, slobber be damned. "Did you see
that, Donna? She put your keys in her mouth. That can be dangerous;
what if she swallowed them?"

The baby's breath hitched in the ultimate precursor to an imminent
show of teary displeasure. Donna grabbed the key ring from Josh and
handed it back to the girl. "She's not in any danger of choking on my
entire set of keys. One key, maybe, but there are at least fifteen
keys on this ring. It's perfectly safe. Besides, in a few seconds
she'll decide she doesn't like the taste and go back to jingling them."

Josh watched as Noelle did just as Donna predicted. "Was that a
woman's intuition thing?" he inquired.

"You know, Josh, I have spent some time with children."

"When?"

"Like most teenage girls I did some babysitting when I was injunior
high and high school. And a lot of my old friends have babies; some
are in junior high school themselves now. I try to visit when I'm
back in Madison."

"Oh."

"Plus, I took care of you for eight years."

"Funny." Josh seemed to consider her revelation for a moment, before
checking the watch on his wrist. "I'm out of time."

"Okay."

With his hands on her shoulders he turned Donna toward him, and
caressed up and down her arms. "I have to go back to work."

"Do good," she whispered before leaning in for a kiss. A combination
of excitement over tomorrow and the idea of not being able to see him
until then caused the kiss to explode into a passionate embrace
thoroughly inappropriate for their location and the company they were
keeping. She pulled back with a moan of disappointment.
Straightening his tie gave her an excuse to briefly caress his chest
before meeting his eyes with hers. "Virginia is well known for its
bed and breakfasts."

"Forget it."

"Just a hint."

"Nope. I'll see you tomorrow." His voice dropped into a sensual tone
he usually saved for when they were in bed. "I'll meet you in front
of the judge."

"I'll be the one wearing white," she promised.

Their parting kiss was interrupted by baby gurgling, reminding them
that no matter their desire, they couldn't take this any further.

"See ya." He waved, but lingered in her door for moment as though
loath to leave her, before reluctantly exiting her office.

Checking that Noelle was still suitably occupied, Donna went about
cleaning up the remainders of their lunch.

TBC

****



see part 1 for disclaimers

****

The Tell 2/21
By Lacy


A bright sliver of sunlight glaring through the bedroom curtains had
Josh bolting upright in bed, frantically checking the clock on the
nightstand. He hadn't slept past sunrise in...he couldn't remember how
long.

It was the slight twinge in his head that reminded him. Today was his
wedding day, and he'd been given the day off. Sort of. He collapsed
back on the bed with a sigh of relief. The president had threatened
to have him banned from the building if he tried to come in this
morning. According to the plan, he was to show up at 3 p.m. sharp,
dressed and ready to go, and not a moment sooner.

Carousing with the guys last night had left him with a slight
hangover, but experience told him that a few Advil chased with a glass
of water and he'd be right as rain by noon. Josh rolled to his side
and was surprised to find a blonde head beside him with eyes that
seemed to twinkle with warmth and laughter, and more wisdom than one
would normally expect.

"Chester," Josh chuckled with a gravelly voice. He recalled now being
a bit tipsy when he crawled into bed last night, and calling Chester
to sleep on Donna's side of the bed to fill the lonely, empty space.
Chester had been more than willing to oblige.

The dog open his mouth and giant pink tongue rolled out, as Chester
panted heavily in Josh's face.

"Dog breath," Josh sighed, turning his face away with a grimace.
Chester scooted closer to Josh on all fours and placed his head on the
man's chest. The dog took a deep breath and released it with a huff.
Josh was absolutely sure that Chester was expressing his displeasure
about something.

It was the sunlight that tipped him off. Much later than usual, by
this time of morning Chester was accustomed to having been walked.
Josh scratched the distressed golden retriever on top of the head.
"You want to go for a walk?"

Chester was on his feet in a flash and jumping off the bed. He
scrabbled across the hardwood floor, his claws making a heavy clicking
sound as he trotted out of the room.

"I'll take that as a yes." Josh threw off the comforter and sheets
and padded barefoot into the closet to the dresser. After donning a
comfortable pair of worn jeans, a tee shirt, and jogging shoes he
shoved his arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket and headed
for the living room.

Normally he would treat himself to a leisurely cup of coffee over the
morning edition of The Washington Post before taking Chester out. But
Josh did the math and figured that he was already stretching the
boundaries of expectation when it came to Chester's bladder. Coffee
could wait, but he did stop in the kitchen for a bottle of water and
to down a couple of Advil.

A quick glance at dining table reminded Josh that wedding presents had
been arriving all week, but they hadn't had the chance to sit down and
open them. It was something that Donna wanted them to do together.
Many of the gifts were from authorized guests, but still others were
from courtesy guests. Those that had received an invitation but would
be unable to attend for a number of reasons. Donna had placed Toby
Ziegler's gift on top of the pile.

He zipped up his jacket and loaded up the pockets with the usual
necessities for a walk to the park. As soon as Josh grabbed the leash
from its hook, Chester launched into his circling routine. As if
chasing his tail, he rotated in the same spot three times before
plopping down on the floor in anticipation of being leashed. He
favored Josh with a slobbery lick on the wrist when the man clipped
the lead to his collar.

Josh wiped his wet wrist on his jeans, grabbed his cell phone off the
credenza and clipped it to his waistband before opening the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Lyman," the agent outside the door greeted.

"Same to you, Brett. We're running a bit late this morning," he
sheepishly explained, while Chester sniffed the agent's shoes.

"As long as you to get to the White House by 3 o'clock sharp, sir, you
can run as late as you like."

"It's your job to get me to the church on time, is it?"

"Yes, sir." Agent Brett Ladner stepped in front of Josh and led them
down the stairs and out of the building.

Josh kept Chester on a tight rein as they walked. He'd learned early
on that Chester needed to know that Josh was in charge; otherwise he
would assume that he was the one taking Josh for a walk and not the
other way around. When they arrived at a small park a few blocks from
the condo, Josh let Chester off the leash and let him run.

Chester was an extremely social animal who had no interest in being
alone, so he rarely wandered too far a field. He stuck his nose to
the ground to investigate the most recent happenings. A disturbing
scent on his favorite tree trunk had to be erased, which he did with
all due haste. Someone of a careless nature threw a candy wrapper on
the ground, but the swarming ants were a deterrent. Those things made
him itch.

There were a handful of people in the park and a few other dogs off
leash. Josh appropriated an empty park bench and kept one eye on
Chester while Agent Ladner stood five feet away scanning the park for
potential threats. The cell phone at his waist rang and Chester
lifted his head at the sound.

Josh smiled when he saw the name on the caller ID. "Hey," he answered
warmly.

"Good morning, sunshine. Did you just get up?"

"About half an hour ago."

"You slept late," Donna commented. He could hear her smile over the
phone. "Are you hung-over?"

"Not too bad," he confessed. "I drank some water and took some Advil.
My headache's already starting to go away."

"Good. I don't want my future husband to be bleary eyed and miserable
at our wedding."

"I will, in fact, be alert and energetic at our wedding. And, in case
you're worried, on our wedding night as well," he added for good measure.

"I should hope so," she giggled.

"I missed you last night."

"That's sweet. Did you have fun with the guys?"

"There was much fun to be had."

"Was there a stripper?"

"I'll never tell."

"Did you sleep in a dumpster?"

"I slept in our bed with a gorgeous blonde."

"You let Chester on the bed?"

"It's an awfully big bed without you. Chester missed you too."

"Did you take him for a walk?"

"We're in the park right now." He glanced up to ascertain Chester's
current position. The exuberant golden had located a fallen tree
branch and was in the process of turning it into wood pulp. "So...did
you and the girls have fun last night?"

"We did indeed."

"Was there a stripper?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"No. What are you wearing right now?"

"It's like that, is it?"

"It's like that."

"A fluffy, terry bathrobe," she purred. "I'm getting a pedicure."

"What color?"

"The robe or my toes?"

"Either. Both," he decided.

"The robe is lavender. The toenails...you'll just have to wait until
tonight to find out."

Josh squirmed on the park bench, trying to find a comfortable
position. He couldn't believe he was getting aroused by talk of
pedicures. "I can't wait," he huskily retorted. "Hey, I thought we
weren't supposed to have contact today until the wedding."

"We're not supposed to see each other. Phone calls don't count."

"I'll consider myself lucky, then."

"I have to go now. The hairdresser is here and will want to get
started soon."

"Do me a favor," he said.

"What's that?"

"Leave your hair long. Don't let the hairdresser pile it all on top
of your head."

"I'll see what I can do."

"And no veil, either. I want to see your face when you come to me."

"I promise." It sounded to him as though her voice had grown thick
with emotion -- as if he'd inadvertently said the right thing.

"Hey, aren't you going to ask about the honeymoon?"

"No."

"You're not?"

"I've decided I don't want to know," she huffed. He didn't need to be
in the same room (or building) to know that she was lying.

"Reverse psychology," he snorted. "Nice try."

"Joshua!"

"In time, all will be revealed."

"But I want to know now."

"Live with the pain."

"You're laughing at me."

"Yes, I am."

"That's not a very nice thing to do to your future wife."

"I'll make it up to you later," he vowed.

"You'd better." Her pout had transformed into a sexy purr.

"I'll see you soon." He lowered his voice to match hers.

"When the clock strikes four," she said, before whispering goodbye and
hanging up.

Josh's sigh rang with a mixture of contentment and longing. Two years
ago if he'd been told he'd be perfectly at ease with the thought of
getting married, he would have...unleashed a completely counterfeit
display of machismo and self-confidence. But it all would have been
an act, because inside he would have been shaking like a leaf. Today
was a different story.

He was ready; it was just that simple. The irony is that nothing did
more to prepare him for this than the simple act of surrendering to
the inevitable. Once he accepted that this was supposed to come next,
he couldn't wait to get here.

Like Amy had once said; it was time.

The voice of the fatalist inside him had softened over the last six
months. Moments of doubt and indecision grew fewer and farther
between. But sitting alone on a park bench on a crisp, bright March
morning, the morning of his wedding day, Josh was assailed with the
darker moments of the last twelve years.

Days of loneliness, when his heart had felt like an arid, desert-like
wasteland. Days when frustration or a sense of helplessness had
brought out the worst in him and Donna had been the one made to
suffer. He remembered every word that had passed his lips that had
melted the smiles from her face; sometimes the words carried a touch
of venom, and sometimes just thoughtlessness.

He'd been so imprisoned by his own fear back then. It's what happens
to a man when he learns early on that he needs someone. Love may not
have been a factor in the early days, but he'd certainly known that he
needed her. There could be no debate about that. But when you
realize you need someone, need to see their face everyday, need to
hear their voice as often as possible - when you figure that out, then
you do everything you can to keep to them close. Even if it means
crushing them in the process.

The cessation of fear, or at least the releasing of it, allowed him to
take the next step, and then the next one after that. Fear was a
strange ally with ever-shifting loyalties; it could keep you safe just
as soon as hold you back. And wisdom was required to distinguish when
it was more foe than friend, lest it burrow deep inside like a
parasite and steal away each opportunity for happiness.

Thankfully, he'd learned to recognize the devious nature of fear.
Some would say just in the nick of time.

He shook off his thoughts and whistled for Chester, who bounded over
brimming with enthusiasm for life and play. Josh dug into the pocket
of his jacket and retrieved a squeaky ball. One squeeze had Chester
enthralled and Josh threw the ball far enough to give Chester a run
for his money.

Josh struggled with getting the ball back from Chester, who was great
at retrieving but terrible when it came to returning. He chuckled at
the dog's playful personality. He would sit still, ball in his mouth,
until Josh was just in reach and then he bolted, circling around the
man in his own version of Keep Away.

As he played with Chester (or Chester played with him - depending on
the perspective) thoughts of barren days and festering hearts floated
away. Left behind in their wake, was a kernel of emotion familiar to
him only by association, like a second cousin once removed.

Faith.

He'd never been one for faith. Josh Lyman preferred evidence; he
preferred to see and touch the proof that the path before him was the
correct one. He liked experts to give him numbers to point him in the
right direction. Failing that, he'd settle for looking a man in the
eye and accepting his word as his bond. But he wasn't one for blind
belief that things were going in the right direction. He'd always
needed exit polls and contingency plans.

Today, however, he needed none of those things, because he had a warm
glow in his chest and a back pocket full of faith.

TBC

****



see part 1 for disclaimers

****

The Tell 3/21
By Lacy


Everyone and their Aunt Matilda wanted a piece of her it seemed. Upon
their arrival, Abigail and Zoey Bartlet had visited her to offer their
best wishes and congratulations. They seemed disappointed to find her
still swathed in a bathrobe, clearly hoping to catch an early glimpse
of the dress. CJ had checked on her as well, hugging Donna tightly
while tears brimmed in her eyes.

Annabeth flitted around with, it seemed, boundless energy as she
checked to make sure everything was going according to schedule...and no
wars were currently breaking out anywhere in the world. She had a
constant smile on her face. She reminded Donna a little of Chester.

Helen was her rock; her constant companion filling the room with easy
assurance. That is until she'd been forced to leave in order to
receive the Bartlets when they had arrived by motorcade, as proper
protocol dictated.

Not long into the planning stages of this wedding, Donna had expressed
concern over choosing a venue. Differing religious backgrounds
required something more neutral, the trouble was that neutral made her
feel as if her wedding was being sanitized for everyone's protection.
She didn't want her wedding to feel sanitized.

Helen graciously offered her home as the venue and Donna could not
refuse. Nor did she want to. After all, in some ways, it was their
church, their temple, their united place of worship. Thoughts that
may seem sacrilegious to some, until they realize that it's a place
where hope was born and nurtured every day, and freedom resides within
its walls. All ideals worthy of building a relationship on.

Helen had done more than offer to host their wedding. She'd pulled
out all the stops, offering Donna one of the guest rooms for her
necessary preparations. A hairdresser and a manicurist were brought
in this morning to pamper her.

Even now, a small reception for guests was being held in the Blue Room
as they waited to be seated for the ceremony. Her father was probably
down there right now having a drink with Danny Concannon or Will Bailey.

Now she stood staring out the window at the South Lawn, listening to
the clock on the fireplace mantle tick away the minutes and wondering
why they sounded so slow. Her soon-to-be mother-in-law, Rebekah, had
stopped by a little while ago to let her know that Josh had arrived on
time (for once) and was with Sam in the Executive Library. `Looking
cool as a cucumber,' Rebekah added with a smile.

A knock on the door startled her out of her woolgathering. Quickly
checking that her bathrobe covered everything that needed to be
covered she called out permission to enter.

Sam Seaborn, always the gentleman, popped his head in the door, one
hand covering his eyes.

"I'm perfectly decent," Donna chuckled.

Sam stepped inside and lowered his hand to take in her appearance.
"You're not dressed," he stated. Sam on the other hand, was dressed
to the nines. Donna's wedding was a simple one by design, but her one
concession to the fairytale dream had been the dress code. Much to
Josh's chagrin, she'd chosen to hold a black tie wedding where all the
men wore tuxes and the women wore gowns.

"There's still time," she commented, "and if I dress now I won't be
able to sit down for the next twenty minutes."

"Do you need to sit down? Are you feeling faint?"

"Did Josh send you to scope out my steadiness?"

"Your steadiness?" he tilted his head in confusion.

"You know...is he afraid I'm going to make a run for it?"

"Are there any plans in that direction? Because...I gotta tell you, if
that's the case, I'm here to offer my services." Sam grinned widely.

"You're a married man," she pointed out.

"Oh...right...that does put a crimp in things."

"I would think so."

"So...you're okay, then?"

"Is he really that worried?"

"Josh? No. But everyone else is placing bets." Sam grinned, then,
just to let her know that his comments were in jest. Sam didn't take
it for granted that he and Donna hadn't mastered the level of banter
that she and Josh had.

"You came to get the inside track."

"Donna...."

"Yes, Sam?"

"I came because I just wanted to say, right now, before everything
gets crazy, that I'm happy for you both. You're the best thing that
has ever happened to him, and for years I watched him not realize it,
or at least not share it. I wanted to say that you deserve all the
happiness in the world; you both do. Also, that you're the sister I
never had, and I love you and hope you get everything your heart desires."

"Thank you, Sam," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"Not my most eloquent speech." He shrugged as if more articulate
phrases were now popping into his head, too late to a make a difference.

"It was wonderful and it means a lot to me." Donna rested her hands
on his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips lingered there
for a moment out of respect for their years of platonic love.

"Before I go...." Sam cleared his throat gently and pulled away, a
blush staining his cheeks. "Do you need anything?"

"Well, if everything's ready downstairs, then there's no sense in
waiting. If you know where Annabeth and the First Lady are, can you
send them up? I'm ready to get dressed now."

"Will do." He reached the door and grabbed the knob, but turned back
before leaving. "By the way...even without the full effect," he waved
at her bathrobe, "you look beautiful. You're going to knock his socks
off."

"Thanks again, Sam." Her voice was little more than a whisper, and
she smiled softly at him before he departed.

Just as requested, Annabeth and Helen arrived only a few moments later
and began to help her finish dressing. Beneath her bathrobe she wore
a garter belt with white silk stockings and a strapless satin bra
custom built to fit the dress. When she untied the belt and slipped
off the robe, Annabeth and Helen gasped.

"Whoa, mama." Annabeth's voice dropped into a register Donna hadn't
known it could reach. "That is some seriously dangerous lingerie."

"Donna, please bring Josh back alive. My husband needs him." Helen
chuckled, but Donna couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Borne
across the First Lady's outstretched arms, lay the gown that she would
be married in.

She'd spent three months searching online, studying designers and
designs until she found a dress that took her breath away. It was an
ivory A-line sheath of satin and chiffon, with an empire waist that
allowed the fabric to drape her body to perfection. In front the
hemline rested just above the tips of her ivory satin sling-backs
while in the back yards of fabric fell from the high waistline into a
chapel train. The scalloped neckline and bust were adorned with
crystal beadwork, and the gossamer sleevelets were delicately
embroidered with flowers.

Her attendants slipped the dress over her head and adjusted it around
her body before zipping the tiny zip in the back. When they were
finished she stepped in front of the mirror for the full effect. Her
hair was unrestricted by a veil and cascaded down her back, just as
Josh requested. The front and sides were teased to give her coif
height, and swept away from her face with matching crystal combs. The
length of her hair was decorated with a multitude of tiny, sparkling
jaw clips. Not only did she glow, but she sparkled as though covered
in a thousand tiny stars. Her makeup was natural with only a hint of
smoky grey eye shadow to set off her eyes; instead of lipstick, she
opted for a simple gloss that matched her own lip tone.

Annabeth placed her bouquet in her hands. Adding a splash of color to
heighten the overall effect were tiny, purple hybrid tea roses.

"Perfect." Annabeth sighed dreamily, tilting her head to one side,
her eyes glazed over.

So much of life was one big blur, punctuated by a series of snapshots
that brought brighter color to the dull grayness of the everyday. For
Donna, this moment as she stood before the mirror in her wedding
dress, was a snapshot moment -- frozen in time so that it could be
better remembered. The three women stopped breathing, the clock
ceased its ticking, and out the window the clouds stopped moving.

"It's time," Helen whispered gently.

"Yes, it is," Donna whispered back, reluctant to spoil the sanctity of
the moment.

After that, time seemed to speed up and Donna was forced to keep her
eyes wide open to catch each passing second as it whizzed by. A
wedding day and its events should be ingrained in a bride's memory,
stamped there for eternity, and yet each moment was filled with such
excitement that she seemed to only retain a small percentage of it.

She recalled Helen and Annabeth holding her train aloft as she
descended the Grand Staircase where she met her father at the bottom.
She remembered her father kissing her on the cheek and telling her in
a voice choked with emotion that she looked beautiful. No matter what
the future had in store, she would never forget the way Josh's eyes
seemed to mist over as walked toward him. She remembered how Josh's
awe-struck features transformed into a dimpled grin when she passed
her bouquet to Annabeth and reached out to take his hands.

She couldn't remember hearing the music play as she walked down the
aisle. She couldn't remember the sound of the officiator's voice or
the words the man spoke, though she seemed to answer correctly at the
given points in time. She couldn't remember when exactly her father
had given her away.

She remembered the softness in Josh's eyes when he spoke his
self-written vows and quoted Mary Sidney Herbert who said, "My fellow,
my companion, help most dear, my soul, my other self, my inward friend."

She remembered that's when her heart was filled with such a love for
him that she feared it might burst. After an interminable wait, it
all seemed to speed by at a breakneck pace, perhaps partially blurred
by tears. At some point they exchanged rings, she remembered because
her hand was shaking as she slid the gold band on his ring finger.
Afterwards, his hand gripped her fingers tightly and he whispered
something her brain couldn't process.

Of course, how could she forget the kiss? To seal the deal and
proclaim their commitment before all present, it was worth the
lifetime's wait. Reminiscent of their first kiss it was gentle and
unassuming and filled with awe as he touched her face with just the
tips of his fingers. She heard a collective sigh from the audience,
and her new mother-in-law sniffing quietly in the front row.

The officiator's voice came into focus just when he introduced them to
the crowd.

"It is my extreme pleasure to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Lyman."

Donna laughed then, and felt strangely like taking a bow in response
to the standing ovation - but she didn't. Josh placed her hand in the
crook of his elbow, covering her fingers with his, and walked her down
the aisle as the clapping continued.

While their guests meandered down to the opposite end of Cross Hall to
be seated for dinner, official photographs were taken on the Grand
Staircase and outdoors on the South Portico (despite the chill), but
all Donna remembered was that she couldn't have wiped the silly grin
off her face for all money in the campaign war chest.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1


Please follow the "Choose Your Own Adventure" instructions at the end
of this chapter.


****

The Tell 4/21
By Lacy


During the embryonic stages of planning, Mrs. Santos had suggested
holding the dinner reception in the State Dining Room, using the
mahogany dining table. It fulfilled the seating requirements, and it
reeked of formality and protocol. But Donna didn't like the idea of
being inaccessible to her friends. She'd opted instead for eight
round dining tables, each seating six people, and placed in such a
manner that would allow her and Josh to visit each table in turn. A
seating capacity of forty-eight was more than enough to accommodate
their thirty-two invited guests and any plus ones that accompanied them.

After the last of the photographs were taken, Josh escorted his new
wife from the South Portico into the Red Room for a moment alone
before joining their guests at the dinner. He tugged her against his
chest and sighed when she wrapped her arms around him, her hands
pressing delightfully against his shoulder blades and upper back.

"How're you doing?" he whispered.

"Splendidly," she replied, turning her face into his neck and placing
a kiss there. "Shouldn't we go into dinner?"

"They'll wait," he insisted. "I just wanted a minute alone with you
before the hordes swarmed."

"We're married."

"Yes," he grinned. "Yes, we are."

"I just wanted to make sure it didn't escape your notice."

"I have a mind like a steel trap."

"That's good." Donna explained to Josh how it all seemed to go by so
fast, and that she was afraid she'd missed some of the salient details.

"You said, `I do', so you didn't miss the important part," he reminded
her.

"Your quote was perfect."

"I thought you might like it. I thought it was apt." Josh smiled,
caught so easily in the glow of her happiness. "It only took us
twelve years to get here."

"Twelve years, four weeks, and five days," she amended. "You're
pretty slow on the learning curve."

"Under your fair and honest tutelage, I think you'll find I'm very
much improved."

"That you are."

"I can't wait to get this dress off you." Off her eyebrow arching
look, he qualified his statement. "I mean...this dress...it's - wow!
When you walked down the aisle I thought you had descended from Mount
Olympus."

"Why, Josh Lyman, are you calling me a goddess?"

"I might be," he beamed, dimples flashing.

"Goddess or not, I still have to go in there and make nice with our
guests. Our absence has probably been noticed by now."

"Okay," he relented, "just-"He cut himself off by capturing her lips
with his. "One more-"She moaned her disappointment when he retreated,
and sighed with contentment when he returned. "To tide me over," he
finished.

Their entrance into the State Dining Room was greeted again with
applause and a whistle or two. Josh was pretty sure it was President
Santos who breached the formality of the setting and whistled, which
seemed to give everyone in the room permission to relax a little more.

After greetings and congratulations from their parents, swapping hugs
and kisses (handshakes between Josh and his father-in-law), the
newlyweds set about welcoming each guest in turn. Beginning with
their table, where both the former and current President and their
respective First Ladies were seated, they accepted congratulations
from both couples. President Bartlet, standing with the help of his
cane, kissed them both on the cheek and wished them the best of luck.

"I'd give you advice on how to handle a man like Josh, but I think
you'd know more about that than I would," he joked with Donna.

"I'm always happy to listen to your suggestions, sir."

"You treat her right, Josh. And don't ever take her for granted. Do
everything she tells you."

"I already do, Mr. President."

"Good boy, Josh."

"Yes, sir."

After a few more minutes at the table, Josh and Donna left the two
presidents to debate the subject of who did more to bring the happy
couple together. Josh suspected it was a debate that would go unanswered.

CJ greeted them effusively, holding back tears of happiness, while her
husband clapped Josh on the back and shook his hand. They passed
around photos of their daughter Evie Jane Concannon, who according to
her mother was a genius with a bright future ahead of her. As had
grown more and more predictable, the picture of the little girl with a
curly brown ponytail on either side of her head, and big blue eyes
plucked at Donna's heartstrings.

At his first opportunity, Charlie caught Donna in a bear hug and
begged her to call him if Josh ever stepped out of line. She assured
him that he would be the first to know. Within earshot of Josh,
Charlie enumerated the many methods in which he could kick Josh's ass.

Andrea Wyatt brought felicitations from Toby Ziegler, who'd been
unable to attend for obvious reasons. Congressman Will Bailey seemed
surprised by his invitation and thanked the newlyweds for thinking of
him and including him in such distinguished and exclusive company.
Other friends, from both the past and current administrations, offered
the couple their heartfelt congratulations.

A sumptuous four course meal was served when Josh and Donna were
seated at the center table. White House porters were there to fill
empty drink glasses and to serve each course at its proper time.
Rather than a speech from the best man (who was, of course, renowned
for his speechwriting abilities), each guest was given the opportunity
to recount their memories of the moments that led up to the day.

Laughter through tears was the order of the day, for the guests as
well as the newlyweds.

After the meal was finished and the wedding cake was served, Josh and
Donna, upon mutual agreement, whispered goodbyes to their parents and
snuck away from the reception. No need for the party to break up just
because the newlyweds were leaving; not when old friends and new were
given the rare opportunity to reminisce together.

In the car he gripped her hand but made no move to demand more, and he
didn't speak a word. He stared out the window, his eyes glazed over
and a frown marring his features.

"Penny for your thoughts," she offered, her thumb brushing gently
against his.

"I was just thinking about how we almost didn't get here."

Her fingers threaded through his for a tighter grip. "Gaza?"

"Yeah."

"You can't think about that, Josh. It was a long time ago," she murmured.

"There'll never be enough distance between now and Gaza. Not after
five years and not after twenty. You feel the same way about Rosslyn."

"Yes," she whispered, "but not today."

"We're here."

"Yes...we are."

"No," he pointed out the window as the car slowed and turned into a
driveway. "I mean, we've reached our destination."

"The Willard?" she asked. "Our honeymoon is going to be at a hotel
that's a whole two blocks away from the White House?"

The driver directed the car into the hotel's circular drive, and a
bellman rushed forward to open the car door.

"Hey, foreign dignitaries and celebrities of stage and screen have
stayed at this hotel."

"Two blocks?" She'd been expecting an out-of-the-way bed and
breakfast and not a hotel a stone's throw away from the office.

"Trust me," Josh beseeched. As he climbed out of the car and reached
behind him for Donna's hand, the concierge approached.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lyman," he spoke crisply. "Your belongings were
delivered earlier this afternoon as expected. You've already been
checked into the suite and the private elevator awaits you." The
concierge handed Josh's detail, Agent Marks, an envelope containing
the room keys. "If there's anything you desire, don't hesitate to
inform the front desk. We are at your service."

Agent Marks carefully checked the contents of the envelope before
clearing it and passing it to Josh.

"Thank you." Donna snatched the envelope from Josh's hands. He'd
only manage to lose the keys anyway. "Did you hear that, Josh?"

"There's a private elevator." He plugged, still trying to sell her on
the hotel.

"He called me Mrs. Lyman."

"Oh, that," he said, making a feeble attempt to hide his grin. Then,
his eyebrows lifted and forehead wrinkled worriedly, "Is that okay?"
Donna rolled her eyes and tugged on his hand. It was cold outside and
she wasn't dressed for the chill.

The concierge led them to the private elevator that serviced only the
top three floors which housed the largest suites in the hotel. As
promised, the elevator door swung open as soon as Donna inserted the
card key into the call slot. Per protocol, Agent Marks entered the
elevator first. An advance team had cleared the suite early this
morning, checking for weaknesses in the security, listening devices
and other hidden dangers.

When the elevator reached its final destination, they found two
members of the Secret Service advance team standing guard at the
suite's door. They were to maintain their position until relieved by
Agent Marks, per their orders. When the elevator door slid open to
reveal the newlyweds, the agents relaxed perceptibly. With a nod from
Agent Marks they were dismissed and left without a word. Agent Marks
took up post at the end of the corridor, where he could offer the
couple a bit more privacy than usual.

Double doors with an antique knocker led into their suite. Donna
employed the keycard in the slot and when the light flashed green she
swung the doors wide. The marble foyer with its crystal chandelier
stole her breath.

The Jenny Lind Suite, tucked away in the attic of The Willard
Intercontinental Hotel, was specifically designed for honeymooners.
It had been an enormous stroke of luck that the suite had been
available this weekend, as it was usually booked a year in advance.
But having a name that's well known in D.C. did occasionally have its
perks, though Josh was careful not to exert undue influence when he
secured the reservation.

With a gasp Donna stepped forward, but Josh pulled her back with one
arm snaked around her waist.

"What?" she inquired; confusion and excitement woven through her voice.

"I believe there's something I'm supposed to do first."

Donna's eyebrows inquired after his purpose, but before her mouth
could question, she found herself lifted off her feet and cradled
against Josh's solid midriff. Instinctively, her arms found their way
around his neck. He stood in the corridor, unmoving, holding her in
his arms.

"What are you doing?" Donna asked softly.

"I'm carrying my wife over the threshold."

"I think you're only supposed to do that when we go home."

"Let's call it a dry run."

"Okay," she smiled, biting the corner of her lower lip in a way he
found indescribably innocent and erotic at the same time.

"Okay," he croaked in response, trying to ignore the rush of heat
through his veins. Josh wasn't sure if it was appropriate to attack
one's wife the moment they entered the honeymoon suite.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you planning on actually carrying me over the threshold anytime
soon?"

"Oh...right." He stepped into the foyer then, without taking his eyes
off Donna, and he made no move to release her.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Her head was tilted back as she surveyed the
crystal chandelier in the center of the foyer.

"Yes, it is," he replied.

"I can't wait to see the rest of the suite."

Her voice was so animated, like that of a child at an amusement park,
he couldn't help but take her cue and set her back on solid ground --
even though he wanted nothing more than to carry her straight to the
bedroom. But he thought it might be a good idea to know where the
bedroom was first, lest he take her on an unintentional tour of their
suite.

No sooner had her feet touched the ground than she was moving through
the suite with her remarkable fusion of speed and grace. In the
elevated sitting room she proclaimed with exhilaration every amenity,
every beautiful decoration, each authentic work of art, and the
stunning antique American furniture. She squealed at the champagne
bucket on a side table that hosted a bottle of chilling Dom.

To Josh it was just a hotel room. Another in a long string of hotel
rooms he'd inhabited over the years of his life. No matter how
breathtaking or well-appointed, it was just a place to lay your head
that wasn't home. The marble pillars and antique furniture in the
sitting room didn't impress him much. Neither did the massive
fireplace which acted as the room's centerpiece. The ceilings sloping
in the old mansard fashion and huge casement windows that provided a
night-time view of the Capitol building seemed architecturally sound
but not integral to the enjoyment of his honeymoon.

But the expression of wonder on his wife's face was.

From the middle of the room he watched with an indulgent smile on his
face as she flitted around the room like a butterfly moving from
flower to flower, absorbing every detail and nuance. He was tempted
to lounge on the beige silk loveseat as she appraised the place like a
buyer in the market. For his part, the suite was entirely
too...monochromatic. But when her face glowed like that he could
begrudge her nothing, and she appeared to be enchanted, despite the
suite's seeming lack of color.

He loved that no matter how long she lived and worked in the nest of
vipers known as D.C. that she still, deep down, kept this part of her
-- the simultaneous ability to be both awestruck and poised at the
same time. It never failed to remind him of the impressionable,
open-minded young woman he'd first met in New Hampshire, who'd had the
tenacity to talk him into hiring her.

Her chattering stopped when she reached the bedroom and Josh found her
there, standing at the foot of the king-sized wrought-iron canopy bed.

The room itself was surprisingly oval shaped with a sloping domed
roof. High on the ceiling, near its apex, were two circular windows
with fan-like louver panels that would, no doubt, flood the room with
light come morning. At this time of night, however, the light was
provided by a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and two
claw-footed lamps on either side of the bed.

Like the rest of the suite, the bedroom was decorated in the same
monochromatic style using cream and white, but the cream silk
draperies, knotted and woven around the iron posts of the bed, lent
the room a whimsical and profoundly romantic aura. A down comforter
with a duvet of striped cream and white satin covered the bed, along
with a ridiculous number of decorative pillows.

"It's like a dream," she whispered, emotion choking her voice. "A
fairytale."

"And you haven't even seen the bathroom yet." Even the brochure he'd
been given claimed that the bathroom, rather than the bedroom, was the
piece de resistance.

In spite of the darker d‚cor of brown and cream marble the bathroom
gave off an aura of warmth and welcome. Another circular casement
window graced the spacious bathroom and just beneath the porthole was
a sunken Jacuzzi tub, clearly built for two. Also included were a
double sink and vanity, as well as a clear glass shower stall, also
built for two.

"It's breathtaking," she gasped.

"The view or the tub?" he smirked.

"Both...but mostly the view."

"Damn. I was certain you'd go with the tub."

"Believe you me, Josh Lyman, before this honeymoon is over I'm
definitely going with the tub."

"I was thinking sooner rather than later," he said with a downward glance.

"Find the view inspiring, do you?"

"I find you inspiring," he corrected.

In the space of a breath her arms found their way around his shoulders
and her mouth located his. He let her take the lead, allowing her to
set the tone with her gentle kisses that nipped at his lips like a
teasing thought that one could hardly grasp. His hands went to her
waist and he tugged her closer, bringing their hips flush with one
another. Fluid silk tantalized his fingers with the enticing promise
of her softer skin.

After a moment of chaste but savory kisses, Donna stepped out of his
arms. Slender arms reached behind her head and she began to capture
and retrieve the tiny crystal clips that made her hair sparkle. She
removed them as he watched, setting each one carefully on the vanity
counter.

Breaking from his frozen stance of observance, Josh decided to make
himself useful. Finding it hardly necessary to remove his gaze from
Donna, he found the water taps on the tub and turned them on. The
pipes were silent and the water barely made a sound as it flowed into
the Jacuzzi. A tub this size would take a while to fill, but he was
at no loss as to how to fill that time.

"Bubbles," she instructed as she delicately plucked the last of the
crystal accessories from her hair. She shook her head, her hair
cascading down her back, to assure herself that each clip had been
located.

Josh had been so enraptured by her ritual that he nearly missed her
instruction altogether, but after a moment's delay he poured a creamy
liquid beneath the stream of water. He was happy to note that the
bubble bath was vanilla scented. Beside the tub was a large
assortment of bath accoutrement and Josh couldn't begin to understand
what they were all for.

"Josh...why don't you get the champagne?"

"Sure," he acquiesced, willing to perform her every behest, like an
eager slave spellbound by his mistress's voice. A fleeting thought
halted his steps before he could exit the bathroom. "Do not," he
demanded, his brown eyes filled with sensual fire, "remove a single
article of clothing while I'm gone."

Unwilling to stay away from her for long, Josh rushed to the sitting
room where he liberated the Dom Perignon from the bucket filled with
slushy ice and water. Pausing only to catch a pair of crystal etched
champagne flutes between his fingers, Josh spun back in the direction
of the bedroom. On his way back to the bathroom he had a second
thought and set everything down on the bureau to remove the shoes that
had been pinching his feet all day, and to divest himself of the
stuffy tux jacket, which he placed over plush lounging chair in front
of the entertainment cabinet.

When he returned to the bathroom he found Donna standing over the
Jacuzzi tossing red rose petals from a glass dish into the steaming water.

His eyes on Donna, Josh set the flutes down beside the tub and tore
off the foil covering from the top of the bottle before twisting the
copper coil holding the cork in place. With practiced ease he fisted
his hand over the cork and turned the bottle slowly from its base,
gently working the cork until a slight pop signaled its release. A
smoky wisp of the champagne's aromatic essence rose from the bottle's lip.

He poured them both a glass, filling the flutes halfway before setting
the bottle down and handing one to her. Holding his flute aloft, he
toasted, "To twelve years and to hoping for forty more."

"I'm shooting for fifty." She clinked her glass against his. The
crystal emitted a high pitched musical tone that reverberated through
the room when they touched.

After a sip of the smooth champagne, he relieved her of her glass and
set them both on the lip of the tub, before taking her into his arms.
This time their kiss was more feast than famine, as he devoured her
lips and sucked her tongue into his mouth, tasting the champagne and
not far beyond that the essence of her. Deft fingers with a mind of
their own found the tiny zipper at the back of her gown and lowered it
gradually, taking a moment here and there to dawdle along her spine.

Weary of his deliberate pace, Donna stepped out of his arms and backed
out of his grasp. Reaching behind her, she found the zipper tab and
completed his task, without severing eye contact. With a sensual roll
of her shoulders the gown slipped down her body creating a puddle of
silk and chiffon at her feet. She stood confidently, tauntingly
before him in her pristine white lingerie.

His throat dried up at the sight of her in a lacy white strapless
demi-bra, garter belt and stockings, and matching g-string panties.
All he could think about was making love to her, but his brain was so
busy mulling options it didn't have time to order his actions. Before
he could move, she stepped out of the silk puddle and back into his
arms, her fingers seizing the ends of his perfectly-tied bow-tie.
Donna frowned; her eyebrows drawing together to create a crease filled
with disappointment.

"What's wrong?" His voice cracked with a squeak that erased the frown
from her face and replaced it with a wistful smile.

"Your tie," she answered. The bow was better, more crisply tied than
he or she could have ever done it.

"What about it?"

"Did your mother tie it for you?"

"No," he snorted, "Sam did."

Donna burst out with a laugh, leaning against his shoulder to muffle
her mirth. "I hope to God someone had the presence of mind to capture
that on film." With that, she tugged on the ends, unraveling with
gusto all of Sam's hard work.

She whipped the tie away from the collar and with an outstretched arm
and a luscious grin on her face, dropped it to the reflective marble
floor. A few seconds later the tie was joined by Josh's dress shirt,
with immediate plans underway for his undershirt to follow.

His hands and mouth did not remain idle as she undressed him with eyes
full of seduction and breath shaded with lust. Fingers dipped beneath
the waistband of her garter belt caressing the skin just under her
belly button, tantalizing but not tormenting. His mouth wreaked holy
havoc on her shoulder, bathing his favorite freckles with the tip of
his tongue.

With speed borne of desire, Josh was stripped of his shirt and
undershirt leaving him scrumptiously bare from the waist up. He
wrested control from her, grasping her shoulders and leading her to
the lip of the tub where he compelled her to sit. The marble
perimeter surrounding the tub was chilly against her backside and yet
somehow managed to arouse her heated body even further. When Josh
lifted her foot, she leaned back on her hands, anxious to see what he
had planned.

With gentle hands he slipped off one ivory satin shoe, followed by the
other. The pads of his fingertips, running softly up and down her
silk stocking encased legs sent a sliver of electricity racing to her
core. Behind the shelter of her heavy eyelids Donna watched his
beautiful hands seduce and inflame her. Her breath caught violently
in her throat when his fingers dipped into the sensitive line where
her thigh met her torso before locating the strap that attached her
stockings to the garter belt.

He managed one clip without too much trouble but stopped then. His
eyes widened perceptibly and his hand trembled slightly.

"What is it?" she worried.

Josh took an uneasy breath and released it, much the way he would in
the rare times when he was nervous about biting off more than he could
chew or making an emotional declaration he wasn't sure would be
reciprocated.

"I've never made love to a wife before," he confessed, as if it were
some big secret.

"That's good to hear," she chuckled. She pulled her foot from his
hands and placed it on his chest, her big toe teasing his nipple.
"I've never made love to a husband. Don't you think it's about time
we did?" To punctuate her suggestion she unclipped the remaining
closure on her garter belt, freeing the stocking.

His stroking fingers slowly gathered the silk, drawing it towards him
bit by bit, fold by fold, until he was able to draw it back and off
her foot. Leaning down, Josh placed a kiss on the arch which sent
another shiver down her spine.

"Red," he rumbled, noticing her painted toenails. "You know how much
I like you in red."

"I do." Her head tilted to the side and she smiled sweetly.

"Wantonly inconsistent with your matrimonial appearance of chastity,"
he teased, all the while freeing her from her other stocking.

"No one to see them but you," she purred. "I did it just for you."

Josh gulped as he kissed the arch of her other foot. "What if it's
different?"

"What?"

"Making love to a wife."

Had it not been for his earnest vulnerability she might have laughed.
But the worry in his eyes reminded Donna of a little boy on his first
day of school, terrified that first grade would be much harder than
kindergarten.

"You're thinking too much, Joshua." Sitting up and planting her feet
firmly on the cool marble flooring she reached forward, hands at his
waist, and tugged on him until he stood between her knees. "And if
you're thinking too much," her head fell back to look up at him, "then
I must not be doing my job correctly."


TBC

For the NC-17 version go to chapter 4a/21 posted at JDFFNC-17.
For the non-smutty version skip straight to 5/21.



See disclaimers in part 1

This is a short one due to all the editing.


****





The Tell 5/21
By Lacy


"So...was it different making love to your wife?"

"Only in the best way."

"We made a mess," he noted, pointing out the water splashed around the
marble.

"It will leave spots if not cleaned properly."

"That's what maid service is for."

"My dress!" In the furor of lovemaking she'd all but forgotten her
wedding gown, which remained in a puddle on the floor. Quickly, she
swept it up in her arms and carefully checked it over. Thankfully, it
was dry as a bone, not having been close enough to the tub to become a
casualty of splashing water.

"Oh! The brochure on this suite mentioned that they had some sort of
service for preserving your wedding gown."

"Really?"

"Yeah, apparently they'll clean it and pack it away for you."

"I'll call the concierge in the morning. Pick up your tux, Josh."

Josh smirked, but complied with her demand. "Married less than five
hours and already you're nagging."

"Don't try and pretend you don't love it," she shot back with a smile.

In the bedroom, she draped her gown and undergarments across a plush
chair. Josh followed with his tuxedo bunched messily under one arm
while his other hand held his unfinished glass of champagne. Donna
went back for hers, and the remainder of the bottle for good measure.

"Can't let a bottle of Dom '98 go to waste." She shrugged sheepishly.

"Heaven forbid," he indulged her. "Are you hungry? We could order
something."

She opened her mouth to answer but was wracked by a yawn. When it
died away she shook it off and smiled.

"Did I wear you out, Donnatella?"

Donna rolled her eyes and scoffed, "As if the emotional rollercoaster
of planning a wedding has nothing to do with it."

"I prefer to believe my prowess is to blame. A good wife would allow
her husband his fanciful delusions."

"Then...yes, Josh, you've exhausted me with your sexual appetite. Being
the wilting flower that I am, I think I feel a swoon coming on."

"Are you mocking me or humoring me?" His eyes narrowed as he tried to
read her inscrutable face.

"A little bit of both." A second yawn took the wind out of her sails,
though.

Josh began tossing the decorative pillows one by one from the bed,
looking ridiculously like he was hunting for something. Donna
giggled and then drained her champagne flute and poured herself
another glass. He pulled back the comforter and motioned for her to
climb in. Swathed in her bathrobe, she positioned the pillows at the
head of the bed and climbed onto the mattress. She settled herself
comfortably against the headboard while sipping her champagne.

Whipping off his luxurious bathrobe, Josh slid between the cool
sheets, pulling the comforter up to his waist. His body buzzed with
fatigue and satisfaction. These were some of his favorite moments --
the aftermath, as he liked to think of it. When he'd put his whole
being into making her body hum and ended up doing the same for
himself. His knees hurt from supporting him, his thighs and lower
back ached from fueling his hips, and his penis still tingled from its
unprecedented performance.

If it weren't for the fact that he rarely felt he had any control over
his addiction to Donna, he would feel like taking a bow. Performance,
he realized, wasn't something for which he could take credit. No,
that part of him had a mind all its own when Donna was involved and
sometimes it was as if he was just along for the ride. A ride he
wouldn't miss for all the bootleg diamonds in Russia.

Donna watched him over the rim of her glass as she sipped her
champagne. He was a man of extraordinary gifts and he'd be the first
to admit it. But where most people saw arrogance, she saw well hidden
insecurities. Where most people saw calculated charm, she saw a front
for vulnerability. In the beginning she hadn't seen past the masks
and the tissue-thin bravado; she'd taken him at face value and made it
a part of her mission to keep him level-headed and genuine. During
times of triumph a few well placed words in private were enough to
remind him that he wasn't quite the genius he made himself out to be.

But over the years the veils were removed, through tragedy or upset or
professional setbacks. It was only during those times when he needed
it the most, had she allowed herself the luxury of building him up
instead of tearing him down in that easy, flippant way she made famous
in the West Wing. Only moments ago she'd mocked his performance, in
spite of the fact that he'd left her giddily satisfied.

A habit which became ingrained all too quickly and would soon need to
change. It was easy to forget that men needed to be complimented just
as much as women did, if not more.

Donna set her champagne flute on the bedside table and shucked her
robe, tossing it over the wrought iron footboard. She turned back to
him and pulled the comforter over her body. She crossed her arms over
his chest and rested her chin on them, looking up into his face.

"What?" he inquired.

Though she often seemed enigmatic to him, it didn't take a psychic to
discern that something was on her mind.

"I didn't mean those things I said a minute ago."

"What things?" He was honestly confused by her sudden seriousness.
They had been joking around a minute ago, hadn't they? They had been
doing their usual, comfortable shtick.

"When you enter a room...my heart beats faster. Same as when I hear
your voice over the phone. Even though you only let a select few see
it, you have an amazing capacity for compassion. Your smile makes me
smile, and your love is the most unexpected gift I've ever received.
And I may not say it much, but making love with you is a moving
experience every single time."

"But?"

Her heart sank just a little since she was being serious and he was
waiting for the other shoe to drop -- because it always did. "No
buts," she whispered.

"No `Josh, you're a selfish, elitist jackass with a God complex'?"

"You hear that enough."

"What brought this on?" The fingers of one hand toyed with a strand
of her hair.

"I want to be a good wife to you."

"You are," he assured her. "You have been all along. You're more
than I deserve."

"I love you." It wasn't until she said the words that she realized
they hadn't been spoken today. Not once. Not when they were on the
phone or even when they spoke their vows. Granted, they didn't say it
often because they weren't the mushy, public-display-of-affection
types, but it seemed remiss of them to omit the words on their wedding
day.

"I love you, too." From the expression on his face it was clear he
had drawn the same conclusion.

The warmth of his naked body seeped into hers making it impossible to
fight off sleep. She knew it wasn't that late; not as late as she was
accustomed at any rate, but it had been a long day. And despite her
denial he had indeed worn her out with his lovemaking. Her eyes slid
closed and she let her head fall to Josh's chest as his fingers
continued to steadily stroke her hair.

A musical combination of working lungs and a strongly beating heart
lulled her to sleep more efficiently than any lullaby.

TBC in chapter 6/21

****



So sorry! I posted chapter 7 when I meant to posted chapter 6


****

The Tell 6/21
By Lacy


Judging by the light spilling into the room from the louver windows on
the domed ceiling, it was long after sunrise when she awoke. After
taking a moment to get her bearings, Donna rolled lazily to the center
of the bed, her arm reaching out for Josh only to find his side of the
bed empty. The coolness of the sheets informed her that he had been
up for awhile.

After hours of sleep, her mouth tasted like the slimy remnants of
champagne. While curious about Josh's whereabouts it was clear that
brushing her teeth and, dear God, her tongue, had to be a priority.
She donned her robe after getting out of bed and a quick search of
their shared suitcase revealed that Josh had already unpacked her
toiletry bag.

They'd left the bathroom in an untidy state last night, evidenced by
the water stains on the marble and the still damp rose petals strewn
all over the tub and surrounding areas. She made a mental note to
call Housekeeping. Beads of water hung suspended on the glass of the
shower stall, and a used towel had been thrown over the door.
Clearly, Josh had already showered this morning.

A sliver of disappointment raced through her. She'd been hoping they
could make even more of a mess this morning in the shower built for two.

Searching for her toiletry bag on the vanity counter she caught sight
of her reflection in the mirror and recoiled in horror. She recalled
now that her hair had been damp when she fell asleep. That was never
a good thing, because it left her with a head that could double as a
nest for a family of sparrows. At home, even for the last three
years, she'd always been careful to maintain her appearance.

Attention to appearance was one of the holdovers from growing up with
her mother. From the earliest days of her remembrance, Donna
understood that Lucia Moss held to very high standards, not only for
herself but for her only daughter as well. She was the type of woman
who never went a day without presenting a flawless image. Not that
her mother was cold or distant in any way. Though she was exacting
and knew how to handle people, she was always there when Donna needed
her.

These character traits extended to in every aspect of her life,
encompassing not only her family but her home and even her friends.
Growing up it seemed that her house was constantly in a state of
change. On weekends her mother would go shopping and inevitably cart
home everything from stained glass panels to European knick knacks.
Lucia Moss would meticulously design the interior of the family condo
in a search for completion that seemed never-ending. When all the
rooms were, at last, decorated to within an inch of their lives, she
would begin the process again; painting rooms, replacing linens and
curtains, and on and on and on.

Donna had long suspected that her mother was like Sarah L. Winchester;
somehow believing that through constant construction and altering of
her home she could delay the inevitability of death. She used to joke
to her friends that Lucia's odd propensity towards decoration was all
that stood between her mother and the Great Beyond.

Unlike her mother, Donna wasn't given to decorating their home to
death. She liked homey and efficient. She liked not having items
that served no purpose other than to collect dust. She had a natural
aversion to clutter.

Ironic that she should fall in love with and marry a man who seemed
perfectly at home when surrounded by disorder. She supposed that it
was part of some grander plan to keep her from becoming too
persnickety about such things - and to keep him from disappearing into
the confusion of his own making. Her strengths were his weaknesses
and vice versa. She was the yin to his yang - two primal opposing but
complementary forces that kept their universe balanced.

Donna was firmly convinced that it was the easy going qualities she
inherited from her father that allowed her spirit to accept Josh,
faults (and there were many) and all. Her father often remarked on
the fact that though she resembled her mother, she was more his
daughter in personality and character.

Except for when it came to things like personal appearance and
hygiene. Since early childhood she'd taken to heart her mother's
lessons in this regard.

Donna could scarcely stand her own reflection when she looked like
this. She grumbled her displeasure to herself for making the mistake
of ignoring her nightly rituals. Last night, of course, was an
aberration. She never went to bed with a wet head, and she usually
put her hair up in a braid or ponytail just to keep it from getting
ratty, as thin, fine hair such as hers had a disturbing tendency to do.

She would hate for Josh to see her like this - if anyone could squeeze
an embarrassing tale out of her slovenly appearance it was her
husband. One look at her and he would never let her live it down.
The last thing she needed was to hand him another `Ilia Nastase'
moment on a silver platter.

Thankfully, her toiletry bag sat ready for her on the counter. After
brushing her teeth and tongue, Donna retrieved her brush and comb,
anxious to be rid of the nest. She would have to wash and condition
later, but first she had to detangle her blond tresses the hard way.

Painstakingly, she worked the comb through the matted sections of fine
hair, and when she was finished she looped her hair through a
scrunchie. But now that her hair was no longer the focus of her
vision, she noticed that her face sorely needed washing.

After cleansing the remains of her wedding day makeup, Donna
exfoliated with a gritty scrub and then followed that with a toner and
moisturizer. Also, as a matter of habit, she had always been prudent
about washing her face before bed. Her bladder screamed bloody murder
and after using the facilities she took one more critical glance in
the mirror. At last, she felt like the newlywed she was instead of a
hung over coed on Spring Break in Daytona. Content with her now
bright morning glow and her minty fresh breath, she went in search of
her husband.

He wasn't hard to find. Heading out to the sitting room she found
Josh standing over a room service cart that was loaded with
scrumptious looking breakfast items. Donna couldn't help but think
that the man looked even more scrumptious. He was half-dressed,
shirtless with jeans, his hair wet and wavy from a shower. Unable to
resist, she snaked her arms around him from behind and attacked his
naked shoulder blade with kisses made for seduction.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he chuckled, certain parts of him enjoying
the warm sensation of her mouth on his shoulder. "Breakfast is
served. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, but you blew that
play by waking up."

"Damn." He could hear the pout in her voice just before she moved her
mouth to the other side of his back. Realizing just where this was
headed if he didn't belay her, he spun around armed with a ripe, juicy
piece of cantaloupe.

Donna's pout was short-lived, dying a glorious death when he placed
the sweet wedge of melon on the tip of her tongue. She bit down,
savoring the burst of juice emitted. "Mmmmmm."

"I see that you brushed your hair," he snickered, despite the fire
slowly building in his veins.

She dropped her head to his shoulder, hiding her flush of
mortification. "You saw me?"

"Oh, yeah," he barked with laughter. "Three years of living
together...how come I've never seen that side of you before?"

"Because I'm meticulous about hiding the truth from you."

"What truth is that?"

"That it takes work to look this good."

As he'd stood over her that morning, it had occurred to him that in
all the time they'd known each other he'd never seen her quite so
disheveled, not even when she'd pulled all-nighters at work during the
MS investigation. Every morning she seemed fresh and clean, not to
mention bright and alert. He'd always envied her in that way. But
now he remembered how often she would awaken before him, disappear
into the bathroom and emerge later, hair glossy and beautiful, her
makeup light and natural - but always...done.
The hair grooming thing had begun during their vacation in Hawaii when
they'd mutually decided that this thing between them was maybe worth
the risk. Sitting at a table in their hotel restaurant she'd reached
over and run her fingers through his hair. Not as an overture to
seduction, but simply because his hair needed attention. How many
times over the years had she forced herself to hold back that urge to
groom him, simply because touching him in that manner would have
crossed some pretty dangerous barriers?

"I have a mystique, Josh." Her voice snapped him back to awareness.
"It must be protected." The room service cart bore a tantalizing
array of breakfast foods, including assorted cut fruit, eggs, bacon,
and croissants. Turning her face away from Josh she claimed a
croissant and tore off a piece, popping it into her mouth.

"But...didn't we just yesterday vow to share our lives...all of our lives?"

"Not this," she replied succinctly. Reaching up she cupped his cheek
with one hand. "Trust me. You don't want a piece of this."

"Don't be ridiculous, Donna! The best part of my day, truly, is
watching you take your makeup off at the end of it."

"That's really sweet. "

"I have my moments."

"Yes, you do," she agreed. "Few and far between though they may be."
Donna's eyebrow rose to punctuate her slur upon his character.

"What's it really all about, Donna? For as long as I've known you,
you've put more effort into looking good than anyone I've ever met -
except maybe CJ. You, with your lotions and toners and SPF 160."

"You can never be too careful about skincare, Josh."

"This isn't about...hanging on to the magic, is it? Because, I've got
to tell you, the magic isn't going anywhere," he confidently declared.
"There is a bottomless well of magic."

She looked at him, her eyes softening. "Being a woman in DC is a
tricky tightrope," she explained.

"How so?"

"Are you serious?" Donna asked, incredulously. "You've never had this
conversation before?"

"Enlighten me."

"It's difficult to be taken seriously in DC, Josh. Especially when
you consider that I'm sans college degree."

"You have a PhD in How It Really Works," Josh chuckled. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," she replied.

Josh stepped away and poured her a cup, while Donna sat down at the
cherry wood table. Catching Donna off guard, her stomach growled at
the sight of the breakfast banquet provided to them. Without further
ado she grabbed a plate and dished out breakfast for Josh, making sure
to include healthy amounts of fruit.

"Presenting a professional face...looking good...is a big part of the
battle," she continued. "Tell me, were you taken more seriously on
the hill when you wore a fresh shirt or when you when you met with
someone in the same clothes you wore the night before?"

He supposed that in some strange cosmic way it made sense that he'd
end up with a woman who was exactly the opposite to him in terms of
personal appearance. He'd admitted years ago, at least in the back of
his mind, that he might not have been taken quite so seriously on the
professional front if it hadn't been for Donna on the sidelines,
straightening his tie and bringing him freshly ironed shirts.

"Point taken," he conceded. After adding cream and one sugar to the
delicate cup of coffee, he passed it to Donna, who traded it for the
plate she offered. "One of the many things you did for me that I took
for granted."

"You've mea culpa'd plenty since then, Josh, and I appreciate it. But
we're putting that behind us now. Remember?"

"Yes. I just wanted to let you know that I plan on never making those
mistakes again." Josh sat down across from her and unwrapped his
silverware, placing the linen napkin in his lap. He speared a wedge
of cantaloupe with his fork and delivered it to his mouth.

With a smile and a sigh of relief, Donna felt the equilibrium of their
relationship shift back into balance. "How long have you been up?"

"Long enough to order breakfast and take a shower," he replied with a
lopsided smile.

"It's after nine. I can't remember the last time I didn't wake up to
an alarm clock." Donna sipped her coffee and set it down before
unraveling the silverware from its linen wrapping.

"That would be Hawaii." Josh speared a ripe strawberry, swirled it in
a dish of sweet cream and then reached across the table to offer it to
Donna. She accepted silently, biting deeply into the fruit without
breaking eye contact.

"Ah," she exclaimed, after swallowing and wiping the corner of her
mouth with a linen napkin. "It's all coming back to me. A situation
not unlike the one we have here, as I recall." A sliver of kiwi felt
spongy between her fingers when she offered it to Josh in the same
manner. He sucked the tart fruit into his mouth, and then the tips of
her fingers along with it. "Did you call Sam?"

"I checked in while you were sleeping. I'm not worried. He has
everything under control."

"And your mom?" Donna sipped once more on her coffee before diving
into her scrambled eggs. Josh dressed his eggs liberally with salt, a
culinary choice which earned him one of her legendary glares. The
death glare, as he had come to call it, had him instantly replacing
the salt shaker on the table.

He cleared his throat and then spoke, "She said she and Chester are
getting along like partners in crime."

"Hmmm. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I think it's a good thing, but I can never be sure with her." With a
roll of his eyes he continued. "She kept referring to him as her
grandson."

Donna laughed. The day she met Rebekah Lyman many things fell into
place and myriad questions were answered. Like where Josh inherited
his single-minded focus. "Sounds like you've had a productive morning."

"I have," he agreed. "Also, I managed to make some reservations for
this afternoon."

"Reservations?" she mused. "What kind of reservations?"

"The kind that are a surprise."

"More surprises, Joshua? You know I don't like surprises."

"I do." His grin bore the distinct traces of strategic victory.

"Why are you grinning like the cat that that ate the canary?"

"Because I know that you don't like surprises and I am well and
happily versed in the tactics which you employ to wheedle said
information out of me. So...let the parley begin."

Slow like molasses an evil grin stretched across her face. "Indeed."

An hour later she collapsed on top of him in a sweaty naked heap;
thoroughly impressed, yet again, with his ability to withstand her
rather comprehensive bag of tricks.

"So?" she asked, her breath panting heavily from her chest.

"Well..." he drawled, "your routine was stellar but I give your dismount
a seven."

"Josh!"

"Nope," he smirked. "I keep classified information a secret for a
living, Donnatella. Keeping secrets is my super power. If I were a
superhero I'd be called Secret Man."

"That's a stupid name. I want to know."

"You're about to find out," he told her. "Our reservation is in less
than an hour; if you want to get ready then you'd better make it snappy."

Donna leapt from his arms and off the bed, disappearing into the
bathroom without a parting shot.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1

"Choose Your Own Adventure" at the bottom.



****

The Tell 7/21
By Lacy


It was common, if not begrudging, knowledge on the Beltway that her
husband was a genius. Since the earliest days of their acquaintance
she had considered it a part of her self-appointed job description to
not let that fact go to his head. It was a dirty, never-ending job
that was more one step forward and two steps back, but someone had to
do it.

This time, however, she had to give the man his due.

"Have I mentioned that you're a genius?" Her words emerged sleepily,
her voice thick with relaxation. Josh's hands, covered in heated oil,
made a long stroke from her shoulders to her lower back, then returned
for another pass.

"Not in this decade." He blushed slightly at her praise, ecstatic to
have done something right.

The reservation, it turned out, had been for I SPA, the Willard's full
service salon and spa where massage therapist, Terri, was currently
teaching them how to massage one another. Terri stood at a distance
guiding Josh's movements and his technique in a low voice designed to
keep the recipient relaxed and in a state bordering on Nirvana. So
concentrated on her husband's hands was Donna that she had all but
forgotten the other woman's presence.

He had wanted her to have this experience, and at the same time be
able to share it with her. However the thought of a traditional
couples massage discomfited him. To him it wouldn't seem intimate if
they were on side-by-side tables being massaged by strangers. Plus, he
didn't want anyone else touching Donna's naked skin, or his for that
matter.

But the hostess suggested couples massage instruction, something new
they were piloting. The program allowed the couple to learn the basic
techniques so they could massage one another. Thankfully, their
instructor was unassuming and subtle, keeping her voice to a whisper
and only speaking when it was time to move on to the next thing.

Donna moaned and occasionally squeaked when he hit a particularly
tense spot on her body. There were muscles in her upper back and
shoulders that she just hadn't been able to relax over the last few
weeks, no matter how many hot baths she took nor how many orgasms she had.

As his thumbs dug tight coiling circles just below her shoulder blades
he found a stubborn knot there. Donna tensed painfully as he applied
pressure causing him to retreat.

"Keep applying pressure, Josh," Terri instructed quietly. "Donna, you
have to breathe through it."

"But...I'm hurting her," he said, worriedly.

"It's a good kind of hurt," Terri replied.

"Not really," Donna whined.

"Trust me," the instructor pleaded in her must trustworthy tone. "You
need to do this. Okay, Josh; work into it a little bit at a time."

This time it wasn't so bad when Josh applied pressure, increasing the
force a little bit at a time. As long as she remembered to breathe
into it she was able to withstand the pain. Slowly, she felt the knot
dissolving and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah," she groaned. "I didn't realize I was so tense."

After that he methodically attacked the tense muscles in her shoulders
and neck, particularly a kink on the left side of her neck that had
been bothering for weeks.

Flipping up the bottom part of the sheet that covered her, making sure
her bottom was strategically hidden, he began to massage her
hamstrings, paying particular attention to her scarred right leg. A
star of puckered white flesh marred her smooth skin a few inches below
her buttock - one of the places where her femur broke through the skin.

He closed his eyes and turned away for a moment to banish the feelings
of sickness that unfailingly arose whenever he thought of the pain it
must have caused her. There was a similar smaller star on the outside
of her thigh where the white surgical scar was.

Josh knew that on tough days (or even for no particular reason) her
right leg would grow tired and the muscles would seize uncomfortably.
With the pads of his thumbs he massaged circles into her hamstring,
pleased to feel it relaxing to his touch.

Eventually, he worked his way down her calves and to her pedicured
feet. Her response was a cross between a giggle and sensual moan when
pressed his thumb down the length of her arch and then tugged at each
toe in turn.

By the time the massage was finished, Donna was human pool of flesh on
the table in danger of slipping into a deep sleep. Josh saw the
inherent flaw in this whole taking-turns-massage thing.

"Donnatella," he called into her ear, "wake up."

"Five more minutes," she sleepily insisted.

"I'm paying for this by the hour."

"Mmmmm?"

"Okay," he relented. "I'm going to go change in something more
comfortable and if you're not ready to do your part by the time I get
back...let's just say there will be tickling involved."

For Donna, tickling was a double edged sword. After making love it
was fun and intimate, but when used for torture it was her Achilles
Heel. "I'm up," she maintained, reaching behind her to pull the sheet
over her naked back. She marshaled her strength and jumped off the
table as he disappeared into the changing room. Slipping on a
bathrobe and dispensing with the sheet, she was ready before he returned.

It could be argued that no man on the planet needed a massage more
than Josh Lyman. As White House Chief of Staff he was privy to any
and all stress inducers that could possibly be imagined. Of course,
the president had his share of stress, but there were things that
never made it to the Oval except as an afterthought. Josh would
handle those things long before they became a headache for President
Santos. As a result, Josh frequently took the headache in his stead.

Just as Josh had done with her, Donna located more than few muscles
with persistent tension. Especially in his lower back, where he'd had
problems since being shot ten years earlier. She couldn't belay the
snicker that escaped upon hearing the squeak that burst from him when
she dug her thumbs into his left side of lumbar region.

The oil she used began a slow heat on contact with his skin, seeping
into his muscles. The combination of her strong fingers and the
heated oil had him melting into the table. When she started in on the
back of his neck he was swamped by the need to sleep, as if she'd
touched some magic `off' switch. He couldn't recall the last time the
very thought of moving seemed abhorrent to him.

Stillness had never been a friend to him in the past. The quiet
brought memories like the kind that turned stillness into something
much worse. Memories of a fiery June night, standing frozen on the
street in superhero pajamas as his home burned with his sister inside.
While he felt like anything but a superhero.

Memories of a cold concrete planter at his back as his life spilled
out between the net of his fingers.

Memories of standing paralyzed while everyone around him buzzed like
busy bees as he waited to be told if he could breathe again. Like the
flick of a switch, stillness could become paralysis which was why he
avoided it at all costs. But there was something different about
this; something healing. Josh grabbed for it as if he'd been
searching for it for years, and maybe he had been.

The memories before his mind's eye now all wore her face. Every last
one. Donna smiling at him while she tied his tie. Donna unspooling
over a bunch of unmarked boxes. Donna taking his arm on a cold
Christmas Eve night. Donna wearing a tasteful bikini on the beach,
her hair caught in the ocean breeze.

It wasn't just the stillness he'd been looking for; that was easy to
find though it came it with a price. It was the tranquility he'd been
looking for; it was serenity he'd never been quite able to grasp. And
no matter whether it was there for good or gone in a second, Josh
chose to live in it while it lasted.

Donna's hands massaged the back of his legs, working in the oil into
the muscles weary from recent lovemaking. All the while Terri
directed them both, keeping a discreet distance, careful not to
intrude upon the bubble of closeness that surrounded her clients.

Josh couldn't help but think that he should find this whole experience
arousing in some way, like he constantly did whenever Donna's hands
were on his naked skin. But his body was just too relaxed to respond
sexually, a fact for which he was grateful considering that they were
not alone. Not that lava didn't simmer in his blood just beneath the
surface of his skin - one touch from her in the right place and he'd
be ready for action. Of that he had no doubt. But for now his
arousal simply waited like a crouching beast, patiently scouting the
perfect opportunity to strike.

When it was over and their time with Terri came to end, Josh basked in
the peacefulness that filled him. Unlike Donna, he didn't feel the
overwhelming pull of sleep, but his mind slowed to a natural pace.
Always and forever it raced; strategizing the next move, anticipating
the next problem, replaying his last mistake.

But for now it was blissfully calm leading Josh to conclude that maybe
there was something to this massage thing after all.

The price of their spa package included a couples shower (or
decontamination rinse, as Josh referred to it) and a couples steam all
within I SPA's private couples suite. After rinsing off the massage
oils donning their robes and slippers, Terri led them to the steam
room and gave them a quick tutorial on the safety guidelines.

"I've set the timer for fifteen minutes with a three minute warning,"
she said. "If at any time you feel overheated or uncomfortable you
should come out."

"Thank you," Donna nodded, speaking for them both. Terri left them
alone so they could disrobe in private.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part one.

This is a short one. It's really more of the tag to chapter 7 than an
actual chapter.




****

The Tell 8/21
By Lacy


When the last of their allotted time trickled away, Josh turned off
the alarm as they exited the steam room, trying unsuccessfully to
appear as though they hadn't just had sex in a semi-public place.
Attired in nothing but their plush terrycloth towels, they were struck
by the chill of the outer room. They clamored into the complimentary
bathrobes as fast as their state of lethargy could allow. The hour of
massage, followed ultimately by a steam (and its extracurricular
activities) was enough to leave both of them sluggish and languid for
the rest of the day.

Donna would have liked nothing more than to sneak up to their room and
climb between the cool sheets of the bed - at least for a little
while. Josh's thoughts were running along the same lines. He knotted
the bathrobe tie and stepped into the slippers provided by the spa.

"How do you feel about getting out of here?" he ventured.

"It's been fun," she said, "but I'm so relaxed I could melt into the
floor."

"Thank God. I was afraid you were going to want a manicure." he
laughed quietly.

"Well, thankfully, I had one of those yesterday."

"Excellent planning on your part."

"I thought so, too."

"Now, how do we get our clothes back?"

"This isn't the pokey, Josh. You just have to ask."

"Did you just say `pokey'?"

"I might have," she tossed him a smile.

"Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"After all that research I did in the White House, you think the only
thing I learned was about politics? Only ninety percent of the stuff
I learned had anything to do with our work," she set him straight.

"And the other ten percent?"

She shrugged, breezily. "I'm naturally inquisitive."

Before he could edit them, frightening thoughts of inquisitiveness and
future children shot through his brain. Luckily though, he was able
to clamp them down before they made it to his mouth. If ever there
was a can of worms he wasn't ready to open, that was it.

After throwing on their clothes and returning to their suite, they
found their room tidier than when they left it. A card hanging on the
doorknob proclaimed the arrival and departure of the maid service.
The bathroom looked as if they'd never been there, much less had
enthusiastic, bath-tub-overflowing sex, and both Josh and Donna were a
little saddened by that.

Though she tried to fight the lethargy running through her veins, no
bed had ever looked softer or more inviting than the one in their
suite. Donna spent a few extra minutes in the bathroom blow drying
her damp hair and pulling it into a rubber band before she undressed.
As she crossed to the room to slip between the sheets with a
contented sigh, Josh was struck once more by how beautiful she was.
Her skin glowed like moonbeams, and she radiated as if her inner
beauty had finally made its way to the surface. Were he not so tired
he would make love to her again. Josh joined her in the bed a moment
later, not only because he wanted to be close to her, but simply
because the idea of taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon seemed
like such a novelty.

Despite the rays of bright sunshine illuminating the room, they
drifted easily to sleep wrapped in each others arms.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1.




****

The Tell 9/21
By Lacy


Long after the honeymoon ended and they resumed their normal work
activities, Josh continued to feel the curious, tingling serenity he'd
first discovered during the massage session. Maybe it helped that he
and Donna practiced the techniques they'd learned on a nightly basis.
Or maybe it was simply that he felt at home being married. At any
rate, he chose not to analyze it too closely, lest it go away.

They'd returned to real life somewhat reluctant to be giving up the
peaceful bubble of intimacy they'd built for themselves. His mother
had been thrilled to see them, if for no other reason than to be
relieved of her dog sitting duties. Having no desire to be one of
"those" mothers-in-law, she'd opted for quick goodbyes. Donna jumped
at the opportunity to see her off in the proper manner but Rebekah
would have none it. She simply smiled and promised, "Next time," and
then hugged her son's wife for an eon before gathering her things and
taking a cab to the airport.

Donna felt guilty about it for the rest of the night, but Josh had
managed to distract her with sex.

His colleagues at work thought it might be funny to slap him on the
back and inquire after the success of the honeymoon, and if he'd
thought for a second that Donna wouldn't kill him, he would have told
them - just to see the looks on their faces. Thankfully though, the
President had been much more discreet, so Josh had been spared that
mortification.

One thing was for sure though, in spite of their previous
professionalism extending back three years and beyond, the staffers of
the West Wing seemed oddly surprised that there was no cooing and
cuddling going on between Josh and Donna upon returning from their
honeymoon. Instead, the couple had returned to their normal flirting
and banter.

Some members of Congress had secretly been harboring a wish that his
marriage would herald a kinder and gentler Josh. No such luck.
Unfortunately for Congress, Republicans in particular, the kinder,
gentler Josh was no less aggressive in his pursuit of President
Santos' agenda, and no less merciless in his tactics.

By the time April made its appearance the newlyweds were completely
bogged down in the fervor and preparation for the upcoming Democratic
National Convention. The previous July, late in the game by any
timetable, Josh had been sickened to hear that none other than
Congressman Haffley had formed an election year exploratory committee
and there was really only one reason why a four term Representative
and former Speaker of the House would ever do that. Since long before
the New Hampshire primary in late January, they'd known that Haffley
would be the presumptive Republican nominee, though the vote in
Hartsfield's Landing had fallen in their favor 38 to 22. It seemed
the Congressman missed the power he once wielded as Speaker of the
House, a position he lost when the Democrats won the majority.
Clearly, Haffley had chosen to seek a loftier seat in the government.

Josh and Donna were the only people in the administration who were
unsurprised by this development. Haffley's candidacy only made Josh
more determined than ever to get President Santos re-elected. So,
from the moment Haffley had announced his intention to seek the
highest office in the land, Josh had been torn between wanting to
display confidence on President Santos, and wanting to pound Haffley
into a sticky paste just for the principle of the thing.

Unlike the president's previous showing in the Iowa Caucus, two weeks
after New Hampshire he ran unopposed and thereby took the day in a
landslide. As if that alone were not spectacular news, exits revealed
that an estimated ten percent of registered Republicans changed their
party designation at the polls in order to vote for the president.

Haffley had more than his share of opponents in the Republican straw
poll. Josh had laughingly referred to the other party's showing as an
"avalanche of crackpots," and his description wasn't far off.
Predictably, Haffley walked away with a majority vote of over
eighty-five percent. The possibility of their opponent being knocked
off his high horse before the Republican National Convention was
looking slimmer and slimmer.

Throughout their weekend honeymoon, Donna had been surprised that Josh
hadn't mentioned the "bane of his existence" once. Of course, she
suspected the fact that she'd remained mostly unclothed might have had
played a part in keeping political strategy discussions to a minimum.

They'd had two whole weeks at home together before Donna was off on
the campaign trail with Mrs. Santos. The months leading up to the
Democratic National Convention were filled with campaign stops in the
battleground states, particularly in Illinois, a state they won the
first time largely due to having Leo McGarry on the ticket. Luckily,
Pennsylvania picked up some of the slack thanks to Vice President
Baker's popularity in his home state.

The Education Initiative shepherded by President Santos, and passed by
both Houses of Congress in the first term meant that school only let
out for one month in the summer. This presented a particularly
difficult dilemma for Helen and Matt, who both needed to be out
visiting fly-over states and didn't like being away from Peter and
Miranda. A compromise was reached when Donna suggested that Helen's
retired parents might like to spend an extended period of time in the
White House. After long discussions about rules and regulation,
Helen's mom and Dad took up residence in the Queen's Bedroom on the
third floor of the mansion. So, while Helen and Matt were off
campaigning while the older children were still in school, Peter and
Miranda had loving, doting grandparents awaiting their return.
Noelle, on the hand, logged frequent flier miles like a pro.

Helen had been surprised, and touched, when she'd arrived at her first
major campaign rally in Knoxville, Tennessee, to see an ocean of
home-made poster board signs declaring, "We love you, Noelle!"
Throughout May and June she went to rally after rally to discover that
Noelle did more to boost attendance than the First Lady ever could.
Consequently, the throngs of admirers that wanted to catch a glimpse
of the youngest Santos meant that Noelle's secret service protection
had to be upped while on the trail.

Josh's duties next door to the Oval meant that he couldn't make as
many campaign trips as he would have liked. It was what he hated most
about being Chief of Staff, the constant need to be in touch with the
NSC and the various other departments that required the kid glove
treatment.

Donna, on the other hand, went wherever Mrs. Santos went, always there
to provide the background information needed for any situation like
the Governor of Alabama's grandchildren's names, or a state
legislator's alma mater. Whatever it took to provide the personal
touch that rarely failed to garner votes.

Due to the "divide and conquer" nature of campaigning, the president
and Mrs. Santos didn't often travel together, which meant she didn't
have access to Air Force One. Since all campaign related travel must
be reimbursed to the US government by the D-Triple-C, Mrs. Santos and
her staff were left with only two options. Option A suggested travel
by Air Force plane (as she did when on official business); not as
opulent as Air Force One, but it did the trick. Option B was to fly
commercial which meant buying out the entire first class cabin,
meticulously screening the other passengers, as well as the flight
crew, and assigning an air force technical crew to go over the plane
with a fine tooth comb. Though more expensive, Mrs. Santos felt going
with Option A would save the general public a lot of headaches.

The last thing she wanted was for her husband to lose two hundred and
fifty votes every time she traveled, simply because she held up the
boarding line.

While the campaign trail this time around was not nearly as brutal as
four years before, Donna was still exhausted when she arrived at the
Hilton-Americas Houston for the Democratic National Convention. For
three days they'd been bouncing through the flyover states for
hour-long grip and grins and part of her was thrilled that they would
be staying in Houston for four days and three nights. The other part
of her wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed with her own husband.

A summer heat wave contributed its fair share to her exhaustion.
Stepping off the plane at Ellington Field she was struck with a
stifling stillness that made her nauseous. There was just something
wrong with 100 degrees at eight o'clock at night. Even as the sun
sank below the horizon and darkness fell, the cloying wet heat stayed
behind, and there wasn't a breeze to speak of.

June and July had been a blur and she couldn't remember the last time
she'd seen Josh's face, but she was pretty sure it had something to do
with dinner that came in a styrofoam box while sitting in his office.
All she wanted was to get checked into her room so she could call
Josh. Possibly for some phone sex, depending on whether or not he was
at home or in the office. Two more days and he'd be arriving for the
second half of the convention. She'd taken to counting the hours.

Per usual she made sure the rest of her staff was settled before
retrieving her own room key and requesting her wake up call. Standing
at the reception desk, a sharply dressed hotel employee clicked on a
succession of computer keys before turning to her with a wide grin.
She handed Donna an envelope with a magnetic card key.

"Room 727, Mrs. Lyman," the employee said with a Texas twang. "Room
service is available until 11 p.m., and don't forget our continental
breakfast. "

"Thank you," Donna returned wearily, taking the envelope. "I won't."

Traipsing up to the fourth floor dragging her suitcase behind her, she
found her room and had a flash of recognition, but in her mind-addled
state couldn't quite grasp what it was she was supposed to recall.
She peered suspiciously down the corridor, first one direction and
then the other. Just a hotel, like any other; like the hundreds of
hotels she'd stayed in over the last decade.

What was it, she wondered, she was supposed to be remembering?

After receiving the green light from the magnetic lock she swung the
door wide and dragged her bag inside. It was the smell that first
caught her attention and then the flickering light. The room was
decorated with what looked to be a dozen arrangements of yellow roses
and a sea of tiny tea light candles.

Standing before her, as if conjured from a dream, was the man she had
just been missing.

"Josh? What are you...?"

"Surprise."

"How did you--?"

"The concierge was very helpful," he answered.

"When did you--?"

"I got here about two hours ago."

"Where's your--?"

"Brett! You can come out now."

Agent Ladner appeared from the bathroom and nodded efficiently to Josh

"Thanks for all your help, Brett."

"No problem, Mr. Lyman." The agent exited the room with a nod of
greeting to Donna, presumably to stand his post outside the door.

"Couldn't have him standing outside when you got here. That would
have given away the surprise. Besides," he continued, "you don't
think I could have lit all these candles myself, do you?"

"I hate surprises," she said, stunned.

"Really? `Cause I could just...." Josh moved toward the door feigning
departure.

"Don't you dare!" Donna's frantic demand stopped Josh in his tracks.
"I don't understand," she said, shaking off her weariness. "You're
not supposed to be here until day after tomorrow. Thirty-nine hours,
to be precise."

"You're counting the hours?" he grinned, dimples deepening in his
cheeks. "Seriously?"

"Josh!" She felt the heat rising in her cheeks which only made her
flush further.

"Okay, so yesterday morning I was checking your itinerary when it hit me."

"Those itineraries can be dangerous if not handled properly," she
deadpanned.

"That was Donna Moss, ladies and gentlemen; she'll be here all week.
Don't forget to tip your waitress."

Donna rolled her eyes. She wanted to jump him, she really did, but
she also wanted to know the meaning behind all this, and she knew if
she followed her baser instincts she might never get her answers. And
obviously Josh had gone to a bit of trouble and would want to get his
credit. "So...the itinerary hit you."

"Well, not the itinerary, but the significance of what was on it."

"Okay...what significance?"

"Don't you know where we are right now, Donnatella?" Off her blank
expression he decided to clue her in. "Houston? Hilton-Americas
hotel? Room 727? Am I ringing any bells here?"

Her mind raced to make the connections and when it did her eyes lit
up. "Room 727!"

"And the light dawns."

"This is where we-"

"I think she's got it."

"The first time we ever-"

"Yes."

"The same room?" Donna's eyes went from alert to teary in less than
five seconds and her face wore the internationally known expression
for `awwwww'.

"Like I said, the concierge was very helpful."

"And the yellow roses?"

"You know...the Yellow Rose of Texas."

"You know I'm not a mulatto woman using my sexual wiles to distract
General Santa Ana, right?"

"I do, in fact, know that," he chuckled. "But you know that I'm not a
fan of the Lone Star State, though if that gets back to the president
you and I will have words; but I do have one good memory of Texas."

"Getting President Santos elected?"

"Okay," he conceded. "Two good memories. Anyway, I thought the
yellow roses would honor that occasion."

"Because you're a man of occasion?"

"Truer words were never spoken. Hey! I have a question."

"What's that?"

"How come you've been in this room for more than five minutes and you
haven't jumped me yet?"

"I must be losing my touch."

"Well get over here, so I can give you some of mine."

So that's just what she did. Donna was desperate for him, yearning
for his touch, but their languid kisses belied that. In spite of the
spreading warmth initiated by his kiss, her mind was still
frenetically spinning. It was an unfortunate side effect of being in
campaign mode, but the fact was that she couldn't stop thinking.

Donna, knowing Josh as she did, knew there had to be more to his
romantic gesture than marking an occasion. Yes, this was the room
where their relationship went irrevocably over the lines they had so
cautiously drawn throughout the years. Yes, this was the place where
they celebrated the victory of their respective careers. But this was
also the hotel where Josh's mentor lost his life. This is where they
returned after Josh learned that Leo was gone forever. She retreated
from the kiss and considered Josh's face, narrowing her eyes.

"What's this really all about, Josh?"

"What makes you think I'm not just being romantic?"

"Are you the same man who told me in his thoroughly pragmatic proposal
that he wasn't good at romance; a fact that was unlikely to change?"

"Well, I'm married now so, technically, no." He stepped out of the
circle of her arms and put some distance between them. Josh stuffed
his hands in the pocket of his slacks and rocked back on his heels,
displaying a sudden interest in the carpet. Donna crossed her arms
and tilted her head, an action which never failed to put him on the
defensive. "What? Can't a man miss his wife?"

"Yes, a man can," she conceded. "But the vibe is telling me this is a
lot of effort simply because you missed me; not when just showing up
would've done the trick. Clearly, you're trying to make some of
statement here. This is the part where you stop playing games and
`fess up."

Josh dropped his head with a sigh, and Donna could swear he was
blushing slightly. "It didn't go the way I wanted," he muttered.

"What?"

"It didn't go the way I wanted," he repeated more audibly.

"I think you did a great job." She leaned down to sniff the roses in
one of the arrangements. "Everything's beautiful."

"No." Hands still in pockets, Josh's head fell back and he
contemplated the ceiling tiles for a second. "That night...the first
time...it didn't go the way I wanted."

Donna stood befuddled. She understood the words that he said but had
trouble comprehending their meaning. Her brow creased as if she were
stuck on a particularly nasty crossword entry. "It didn't go...?"

"It didn't."

"So...." Like a flash it all made sense. Laughter bubbled in her
chest, bursting upwards with lightening speed. She covered her mouth
with her hands while simultaneously trying to clamp down on the laugh,
which only made it come out like an incredulous snort. "You want a
do-over?"

"That's funny?"

"Seriously? A do-over?"

Josh assumed his mock-intimidation posture, with his hands on his
hips. Donna knew it was his mock-intimidation posture and therefore
striking the pose was a wasted effort. "I went through a lot of
trouble here," he pointed out.

"Are you in the third grade?" Not even a hellhound could have
prevented her laughter's escape this time.

"Once again, may I point out the effort I expended?"

Grabbing her around the waist and pulling her hips flush with his sent
her giggles skittering away like marbles on concrete. Her smile
shrunk from her face a second later. "Josh?"

"There were...." He sighed, closing his eyes in a gesture she now
recognized as gathering his courage. He was really nervous, Donna
realized. That night had been nearly four years ago and they had been
married for just over four months; when he got nervous about something
that had to do with them, with their sex life, she got worried.

"Josh?" she whispered, compassion filtering through her voice. She
reached up to cup his cheek with one hand. "Tell me."

"You'll laugh." He shook his head, looking away from her.

"I won't laugh again, I swear."

"There were things I wanted to say."

"That night?"

"Our first time," he amended. "I didn't know it was going to be that
night. I didn't know if it was going to happen at all; I just knew
that I wanted it to, and that there were things I wanted to say.
Needed to say."

"Oh."

"I mean...I had things planned out. Words to say. But then it was all
such a blur...it went by so fast."

"We did race to the finish line," she agreed.

"Which, for the record, you beat me to."

"Duly stipulated," she softly smiled. Donna would have liked to set
him to ease, reassure him that she'd been satisfied that night, but
she would have been lying and he would have known it. She was
dissatisfied on many counts; it's just that his performance hadn't
been one of them. If it had been, they probably wouldn't be married
today.

"First, there was the exhaustion," Josh said.

"Exacerbated by the scotch."

"Yes," he concurred. "And then when your clothes started to come
off...I had a little trouble remembering my own name."

"Good thing I was screaming it then."

"True...but by then there was no way I had any hope of remembering all
the things I needed to say."

"Plus, there was the fact that you were incapable of human speech, as
I recall."

"So I wanted another chance. In this place," he whispered, running
his fingers lightly up and down her spine. "In this bed."

"What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"I've learned to steel myself against your charms," he answered, with
a straight face.

Donna's hand slipped down his chest to the front of his pants. "Wanna
bet?"

Josh locked his knees to stave off the encroaching sensation of
weakness that came whenever Donna's hands wandered below his belt. He
captured both of her wrists and gently twisted her arms until they
were safely behind her back. He seized her lips in a searing kiss
before stepping away from her and walking over to the bedside table.
Donna could only wonder what he had up his sleeve.

Her eyebrow rose in surprise when Josh tugged off his wedding band and
placed it reverently on the table's surface and then turned back to
her. With only a moment's hesitation she removed her own rings, the
marquis diamond he gave her for their engagement and her gold
filigreed band that matched his. Her elegant grace hid a sudden burst
of nervousness as she walked towards him and placed the rings next to
his on the table.

Oddly, she was more nervous this time than she had been on that night
almost four years ago, and she knew exactly why. Josh hadn't been the
only one who felt that it all went by in a blur. Her memories of that
night were spotty, but it was like watching an edited film. She
remembered that they tumbled on the bed and that she could hardly
breathe when his hands were on her breasts. She knows that she
climaxed too quickly, it seemed only seconds after he entered her.
And that they both fell asleep without a word as soon as it was over.
Other than that, the event itself was a blank.

"I'm crazy about you, Donna Moss. I always have been." His lips on
hers were soft and persuasive this time, just a touch more aggressive
than their first kiss had been. A wonderfully natural progression
from their first kiss, she thought. When Josh's tongue tentatively
slipped into her mouth she welcomed him, matching his intent.
Somehow, while she wasn't paying attention, he'd worked the buttons of
her blouse free, and urged her shirt off her shoulders and to the
floor. She sighed into his mouth as he began this old, yet new
seduction in earnest.

"I'm crazy about you, too." Her voice wavered when she spoke and this
time, her fingers trembled as they found the buttons on his shirt.

TBC

For NC-17 readers finish this scene in chapter 9a. (What can I say?
They're newlyweds)

If not, skip to chapter 10.

****



See disclaimers in chapter 1.

Again, this is really just a tag to chapter 9.



****

The Tell 10/21
By Lacy


In the later stages of their lovemaking the dozens of tea lights had
begun to sputter and extinguish, allowing the room to grow darker and
darker. Now as they were wrapped in each other's arms, sweaty and
satiated, there remained only a handful of still-burning candles on
the bedside table. Soon, they too would reach the end of their wicks
and the flames would disappear in an upward drifting wisp of smoke.

When her own breathing returned to normal she cupped his cheek in her
hand and gazed into his eyes. "You're mine," she claimed.

"Body and soul," he confirmed, stroking her spine in a soothing
motion. "Always was, really. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

"It goes both ways."

"That's how it should have been," he broke the easy silence. "No next
morning insecurities. No...pretending to sleep while wondering what the
hell it all meant."

"No comments about the walk of shame," she snickered, burying her
laughter in his chest. It was something she could laugh about now,
but it had been nowhere in the vicinity of funny back then.

"I was hopeless, believing that you couldn't get away from me fast
enough. Terrified...all those years of wanting you...and I fucked it up.
I didn't know what the hell to do."

"It wasn't all you," she confessed. "I could've been more honest
about what I wanted. I was afraid of getting hurt again."

"I wanted you to know," he said. "I wanted you to look in my eyes and
see how much I wanted you...wanted this. I wanted you to read my mind
like you used to. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"I wanted to be the kind of woman who could have a one night stand
with you...if that was all it turned out to be. Part of me wanted to
hold on and never let go, that part of me that had always misplaced
devotion and love. But I knew that would scare you off. I knew that
pushing you too hard would turn you skittish and you would slip out of
reach. So, I chose not to push at all."

"Skittish...you make me sound like a newborn colt."

"You certainly acted like you were on new legs."

"I was definitely on new legs," he realized. "And the deadline?"

"After the election and we were back in DC, we kept saying we needed
to talk and then never getting around to it. There was always an
excuse and I knew there always would be. But I also knew that
deadlines are where you live and breathe. You can work miracles under
a deadline. I've seen you do it, countless times. I just
thought...this time I could use that to my advantage."

"It could have backfired. It almost did. If it hadn't been for Sam-"

"I had faith in you."

Her statement was meant to end the conversation. To place closure on
something that dangled over their heads for a long time. After the
election, when they finally did talk on their joint vacation, they
smoothed out their past, their hurts, their joys, and their hopes for
the future. But they never revisited the events before and after the
election. Back then it had been too fresh, and with the accompanying
loss of Leo McGarry, just too painful. Not to mention they had more
pressing and deeply ingrained relationship issues that needed to be
dealt with other than their fumbling start.

"Let's just be glad we'll never have to find out if your faith was
misplaced."

"I am." She yawned and then placed a kiss on his chest; her palm
resting squarely over his heart. "But it wasn't."

"You should get some sleep," he suggested. "The next few days are
going to be crazy."

His request was met only with the steady sound of her breathing.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1



****

The Tell 11/21
By Lacy


In the morning, Donna showered while Josh checked in with Sam at the
White House. Throughout the term Sam had been called up to serve as
Acting Chief of Staff for a variety of reasons, and as a result he had
slowly grown accustomed to title. Josh's trust in Sam was
unimpeachable, but he preferred to stay in the loop while he was away.

Donna completed her shower and blew dry her hair to a silky gloss.
Her makeup application was natural, the way she preferred it for
daytime, professional wear. Replacing her lip gloss in her toiletry
bag and zipping the zipper, she moved the bag into the corner of the
vanity counter.

A glint of something caught her eye and she pulled the bag back and
bent over for a closer look. Here was a mystery. Stuffed in the
corner where the wall met the mirror, was a gold chain with a charm on
it bearing the monogram `AS'.

"Josh?"

"Hmmm?"

She exited the bathroom to find him sitting on the bed with the phone
cradled between his ear and shoulder.

"Are you on hold?" She asked, incredulous.

Josh covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "No, he's just babbling.
What is it?"

"Does this look familiar?" Donna held out the necklace for his
inspection. Josh took the charm in his fingers, looked at it and then
shook his head.

"Nope."

"I found it in the bathroom."

Still covering the mouthpiece, Josh spoke. "Ask the concierge when we
go downstairs. He said he had to ask another couple to change rooms
so we could have this one. It probably belongs to one of them."

"Another couple got kicked out of our room?"

Josh held up his hand and spoke into the phone. "Yeah. Uh-huh. No,
that's good. I'll check back in this afternoon. I'm on my cell." He
hung up the phone and turned back to her. "What?"

"Another couple was kicked out of our room?"

"It wasn't like that, Donna. Thanks to a last minute cancellation he
was able to offer them an upgrade to a very nice suite. Plus, I
authorized the concierge to bribe them with a nice dinner in the hotel
restaurant on our tab. He said they jumped at it."

"I should thank them for being so hospitable anyway."

"Knock yourself out."

"What's the name of the concierge who helped you?"

"Uh...Derrick...I think."

"Okay, I'm going to go downstairs and see if I can find out what suite
they're in. I'd like to return this in person. I'll meet you in the
restaurant for breakfast?"

"You bet."

"Ten minutes." Donna leaned down and placed a thorough kiss on his
mouth. He smiled dreamily when she pulled away.

"Ten minutes," he concurred, when the door was already closing behind her.

Most hotel lobbies within a fifty mile radius of Houston were probably
abuzz with activity due to the Convention, none so more than the
Hilton-Americas. Just a skywalk away from the George R. Brown
Convention Center, the Hilton-Americas was at the epicenter of all the
action. Only the most important people were staying here. The
President and First Lady. The Vice President and Second Lady.
Keynote speakers and other entertainers; and only those who had the
financial backing and the political muscle to get in.

The concierge, Daniel (as it turned out), was thrilled to hear that
Josh's surprise had been successfully executed and fully appreciated.
What's more, he was more than happy to comply with Donna's wishes to
thank the generous couple who'd been kind enough to vacate their room.
Once Donna explained the necklace she found in the bathroom, he
quickly provided her with alternate suite they'd been provided.

"I offered Mr. Lyman the suite first," Daniel explained. "But he was
insistent."

"He'll never admit it, but he's a romantic at heart," Donna chuckled.
"Thanks for all your help."

"It was my pleasure."

Donna nodded good-bye and headed for The Caf‚ restaurant. In spite of
the crowd she was seated before Josh arrived, and she informed the
waitress that she would be waiting for her husband, who would be
arriving momentarily, before ordering. The waitress nodded and
proceeded to check on the other tables in her area. Donna glanced
around the room and saw many familiar faces, all of whom waved or
nodded their greeting.

James Listern from the DNC, Maggie Wallsgrove from the American
Federation of Teachers, Dean Falbach from the United Auto Workers.
The list went on. For a moment, Donna regretted not ordering room
service as Josh suggested - she knew that as soon as Josh showed up
this would become a working breakfast.

As she scoped out the place Josh slid into the seat across from hers.
"We could have had breakfast in bed," he reminded her.

"We never would have gotten out of bed," she countered. "I need to
staff Mrs. Santos in an hour."

"Okay."

She could have set her watch by it. Not two minutes after he sat down
they were approached by Bill Hodgkins from Communication Workers of
America.

"I heard you weren't getting in town until Friday," he began.

Josh stood from his chair and took the interloper's hand. "Good to
see you, Bill."

"Good to see you to, Josh. I was hoping to get to talk to you about-"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Bill. I know what you want to
talk about and that's fine, but I'm having breakfast with my wife, and
we're off the clock for the next hour."

"I see," Bill replied, simultaneously shocked and embarrassed. Donna
was a little shocked herself.

"Good, I'm glad. I'll be taking meetings in third floor conference
room after nine. Come see me then."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Bill."

Word spread like wildfire after that, and they weren't bothered for
the remainder of their breakfast, though they were on the receiving
end of several curious glances. For once, they were able to have a
leisurely meal in an actual restaurant with food that came on plates,
without having to worry about being schmoozed.

Josh and Donna went their separate ways after their meal, planning to
meet up for lunch in the conference room reserved for White House
staff. Otto, Lou, and Bram were due to arrive in the evening before
the convention kicked off. Their jobs were to staff the president and
keep day to day White House operations functioning during the festivities.

Donna was due to meet Mrs. Santos in the Presidential Suite in fifteen
minutes, give or take, but she wanted to take care of returning the
necklace before things got too hectic. Besides, she didn't know how
long the guests would be staying in the hotel.

Donna briefly had second thoughts about knocking on the door of the
suite 1432, until she heard the muffled sound of the television from
the other side of the door.

The woman who opened the door must have been too busy trying to put in
her earring to check the peephole because she was just as taken aback
to see Donna on the other side as Donna was to see her.

"Amy!"

"Donna?"

"Hi." Donna waved stupidly and then nearly choked on her greeting
when she got a good look at her husband's former paramour.

She hadn't seen Amy in nearly a year; a year which had clearly made a
difference. Just before she and Josh became engaged, Amy had tendered
her resignation to Josh, citing personal reasons and a potential
conflict of interest. President Santos had chaffed at first,
preferring not to lose a political operative who had served him well,
but he hadn't put up much of a fight in the end.

Donna had been shocked to read her wedding announcement in the Post
just a scant two weeks later. Apparently, there had been a whirlwind
romance with a television actor named Bart Slokum, who was famous for
playing a federal agent on a long running TV drama. Amy
Gardner-Slokum had moved out to Los Angeles where here husband's show
filmed, and had taken a job with Emily's List.

Amy had also authored a book on the feminist agenda, a cautionary
treatise on the twenty-first century status of the women's movement.
It had hit the shelves to mixed reviews a few months ago. Donna had
been required to read an advanced copy, in case Amy made any mentions
of her time in the White House. She found the book to be a bit heavy
handed, not to mention, mind-numbingly dull.

"You're gaping," Amy informed her.

Frantically trying to control her blushing face, Donna closed her
mouth and took a breath. "You're..."

"Yes." Amy ran her hand over her burgeoning belly, which was covered
in a smart, burgundy silk shell. Donna guessed she was somewhere at
the end of her second trimester or the beginning of her third.

"Congratulations."

"Would you like to come in?" Amy offered, standing back to allow Donna
entrance.

"This is...somewhat embarrassing," Donna began. "I didn't know it was you."

"Didn't know what was me?"

"I didn't know you were the one kicked out of our room," Donna provided.

"Ah. You and Josh are room 727? The romantic newlyweds who wanted to
relive a night from their past?"

"Is that what he told you?"

"The concierge was very keen on the romance of it. If you've come
here to thank us, it was no problem. We did get a suite out of the
deal, and a nice dinner last night."

"Good...that's...good. So...how's your husband."

"He's great. He's not here right now," she stated the obvious. "His
show is on hiatus until mid-August, so he's free to travel. Anyway,
he wanted to tag along since he doesn't have to be back in the studio
for another two weeks."

"It must be nice being married to someone who has long vacations."

"It is. Although when he is working, he spends more time at the
studio or on location than...any White House employee."

"When are you due?"

"October," Amy announced with a smile, once again rubbing her belly.
Donna felt a flash of envy and struggled for her next breath and her
next thought. "It wasn't planned," Amy volunteered. "But Bart was
happy about it and I figured at my age...well, it's now or never."

"Now or never," Donna murmured. "Right."

"Anyway...I have a conference call I have to be at in five minutes.
Don't worry about the room thing, it was no problem."

"Well, thanks anyway. And good luck with the baby. Oh!" Donna
exclaimed. "I can't believe I almost forgot. The other reason I
wanted to see you in person was because I found this on the bathroom
counter." Donna reached into the pocket of her suit jacket and
proffered the necklace."

"I've been looking all over for it. I was starting to think that I
left it at home - except that I never go anywhere without it. Thank
you so much."

"No problem," Donna said, and then, "I guess that makes us even."

"Yeah," Amy softly replied. "I guess it does."

Donna opened the door to leave and turned back one more time.
"Congratulations again, Amy."

"Thanks."

Donna fled the room and down the corridor with as much grace and
dignity as she could muster. Her encounter with Amy Gardner-Slokum
had shaken her more than she cared to admit. It wasn't that she still
felt intimidated by Amy. Working for three years in the White House
as an equal with her had taken care of that. It wasn't even that Amy
and Josh had been lovers for a long time. She cared about none of that.

But despite the denial she tried to nurture and the hollowness inside
of her that she tried to stamp down, Donna was jealous of Amy. Again.
It just wasn't about a man. Not that she begrudged Amy the
opportunity to procreate. After all, Amy was already in her early
forties and she'd been dead on when she'd said it was either now or
never. Still, Donna hated herself for the covetous feelings that
swirled inside of her.

Sweeping away the jumble of emotions inside of her, Donna counseled
herself to put on her game face. She had a thousand and one things to
do before Mrs. Santos would be prepared to take to the pulpit to give
her first speech tomorrow night.

Donna decided to concentrate on that, and only that.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1/



****

The Tell 12/21
By Lacy


A little after two, Josh sat in the third floor conference center
picking at his lunch and talking to an ass-wipe Senator on the phone
when Donna walked through the double doors. Scribbling notes in a
binder, Josh noted her entrance over the frames of the reading glasses
that sat perched on the end his nose.

Just the sight of her caused his mouth to dry up and his brain to
blank out for a second. Long enough to miss most of the Senator's
salient point. He asked the Senator to repeat himself and then didn't
bother to listen, mostly because he was trying to see if Donna's panty
line was visible.

Two hours ago a buffet lunch had been ordered to feed the Santos
staffers. Donna grabbed a plate and began picking over the remains,
dishing out a serving of lemon chicken with a creamy hollandaise,
green beans, and caramelized carrots, before taking a seat next to
Josh at the conference table.

She opened her own leather-bound notepad and began making notes on
things left to do and how to organize them. Donna was going over the
changes in the tenth draft of the First Lady's introduction speech
when Josh finally hung up the phone.

"Busy day?" she asked, with a half-smile.

"Senator Baird is threatening to walk away from his speech if the
president doesn't veto H.R. 871."

"He's holding the keynote speech hostage? What did you tell him?"

"I told him if he ever wants to see the inside of the White House
again, he'll think of some other way to threaten me."

"What a windbag."

Josh asked about her day and she went down her list with a decided
lack of enthusiasm. It didn't take a genius to see that something was
bothering her, but Josh didn't want to push. "Did you return that
necklace?" he asked, opting for a suitably neutral topic.

"Oh," she almost choked on her green beans. "Yeah," she coughed,
"about that...you'll never guess who was evicted from our room last night."

"Is this one of those times when you really expect me to guess?"

"No. It was Amy Gardner."

"Amy Gardner?" he echoed. His stomach clenched nervously and his
throat suddenly felt scratchy. "Amy was kicked out of our room?"

"Amy and her husband."

"How is her husband? Harried? Hen-pecked? Chained to the bedpost?"

"Did she ever chain you to the bedpost?"

Josh's eyes narrowed at her over the rims of his glasses before he
cautiously answered. "Metaphorically." He hated discussing Amy with
her. More than ever, knowing what they now knew, it felt as if there
had been three people in that relationship. He thought it had just
been him and Amy back then, but now he understood that Donna had
witnessed it all. From the entire tapestry of his life, his
relationship with Amy, and Donna's proximity to it, was one of the
things he most wished he could take back.

"How would you feel about me chaining you to a bedpost?" She dropped
her voice in playful seduction, causing his body to react in ways he
found both pleasurable and inconvenient.

"Will you be gentle?" he volleyed.

"I can be whatever you want me to be."

"Okay, if I didn't have to work for the president right now, I'd be
taking you on this conference table. You know that, right?"

"I'm pretty sure I'd be the one taking you," she shot back.

"Give me strength." He prayed under his breath, attempting to rein in
his racing heart and other thoroughly aroused parts. "We need to stop
talking about this now before I reach the point of no return. Let's
talk about something less...you know."

"So...Amy Gardner-"

He groaned, his head falling against the headrest of his chair.
"That'll do the trick."

"Her handsome, TV star husband wasn't there so I couldn't tell you if
he was henpecked."

"Ah," he chuckled. "Good to know she lets him out once in a great while."

"I can, however, tell you that they have wasted very little time in
procreating."

Josh's eyes glazed over and his forehead wrinkled, as though he were
trying to wrap his mind around an impossible equation. He had
difficulty grasping the concept of Amy as a mother. "Amy's pregnant?"
During the high point of their relationship, when they were feeling
each other out, she expressed little interest in parenthood.
Something, at the time, he'd been relieved to discover.

"Due in October," Donna confirmed.

"Did she...say something to you?" Josh asked, warily. Something was
wrong. He could sense it, like a dog sensing a lightning storm on the
horizon. The glow she wore this morning, after their night of
lovemaking had dissipated, and she now appeared wan and overly worried.

"No," Donna admitted. "No, it wasn't anything like that. In fact,
she was...gracious."

"Amy Gardner? Gracious? I'm having trouble picturing that."

"It was unexpected." She concurred, though her voice didn't insinuate
a mocking tone at all, something he might have expected.

"She must want something. Did she say she wanted something?"

"She didn't mention the president or his agenda once."

"The world must be ending," Josh deadpanned. "Heads up. The
apocalypse is at hand."

"She was perfectly gracious about changing rooms. They enjoyed their
dinner last night. I asked about the baby, and she said it wasn't
planned but that she figured it was now or never. I returned the
necklace, after almost forgetting to. She thanked me, and I left."

Josh studied her more thoroughly over the rims of his glasses. He'd
known she was masking her feelings from the moment she'd walked into
the room, and he now suspected that he'd inadvertently ferreted out
the source. He'd been briefly distracted by her innuendo, but now he
was back on track. Her babbling play-by-play of her conversation with
Amy clued him in that something happened in that room. He whipped off
his glasses, folded them up and deposited them in the breast pocket of
his shirt.

"She must have done something to upset you," Josh insisted.

"She didn't." Donna popped another forkful of chicken in her mouth
and began to determinedly chew it. She swallowed carefully and then
looked back to Josh. "Why?" she asked worriedly. "Do I look upset?"

"Only so I'd notice," he reassured her. "But you have to tell me what
she said or did. I'll talk to her, Donna. I'll tell her that her
behavior is inappropriate and unacceptable."

"I can take care of myself when it comes to Amy Gardner, Josh. I
always did in the past." Donna's eyes hardened with an unwavering
resolve he'd always found tenacious. "Besides...there's nothing to
handle. I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Mission accomplished. Now I'm waiting for the sky to fall."

"I have to get back to Mrs. Santos. Noelle is teething and their both
at their wits end; I have to see if I can convince Helen to take a nap
before she meets with Governor Mitchell tonight." Donna gathered the
remains of her lunch and disposed of them and then tucked her notepad
under her arm.

"Will I see you later?"

"I'll be around." She called over her shoulder as the conference room
door closed behind her.

"That isn't what I meant," he muttered, watching the door as if she
might reappear there any second.

Josh didn't see Donna again until he crawled into the bed of room 727
at a little after four a.m. She didn't stir as he slipped beneath the
sheets or even as he placed a goodnight kiss on her forehead. He
slept deeply for the next three and half hours and when he awoke to
sound of his ringing cell phone she was already gone.

It was the same story for the remainder of the convention, as each day
became successively busier. When the president arrived on the
afternoon of day three, Josh spent his days closeted in a conference
room or the Presidential Suite and saw his wife only in passing. Time
enough for a quick word, or a peck on the lips, but not for
substantive contact of any kind.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1.

Now, let's get this plot started.




****

The Tell 13/21
By Lacy


When the convention ended, after he graciously accepted the Democratic
Party's nomination, the president and his Chief of Staff flew back to
DC aboard Air Force One, sans their wives. Helen had opted to stay at
the house in Houston with the kids for two more days. Donna had felt
obligated to remain behind.

So went the first few months of their marriage. Seeing each other
between trips, usually too exhausted to do much more than sleep in
each other's arms. Happy for the times when they could spend a few
hours alone together, to talk, to make love, or sometimes just to bask
in the occasional domestic moments they shared that had nothing to do
with elections or governing.

For Josh's part, he was delighted to discover that so little about
their relationship had changed since getting married. Donna didn't
suddenly nag any more than she usually did (as if that were even
possible). His physical desire for her had in no way waned, nor had
the enjoyment he always received in simply talking to her. They
didn't fight over the remote control any more than usual. She still
punctured his ego when she thought it was necessary, and then
bolstered it at all the right times. So far, marriage hadn't been
much different than the previous years of their relationship, and he
frequently wondered why that was.

He still missed her when they were apart, which was more and more
often as the campaign heated up. With steadfast resolve, he eagerly
looked forward to the day when they could stay in the same city for
more than a week at a time.

When they were together, taking Chester for a walk to the park was a
favorite downtime activity of Donna's. One Sunday morning they were
able to get breakfast burritos from a place near the park and they sat
on a bench to eat and talk while Chester played. Only, instead of
playing, Chester sat on the ground between their feet, staring
shamelessly up at them with his soulful brown eyes, his tail switching
excitedly back and forth as he begged silently, but effectively, for a
bite of their breakfast. Or all of it.

Donna laughed, half-heartedly complaining over the bottomless pit that
masqueraded as Chester's stomach. If she allowed it, Chester would
become the roly-est poly-est golden retriever on the planet.
Especially considering he didn't get nearly as much exercise as he was
supposed to. More than once, Josh drew Donna's attention to something
in the park and slipped Chester a wedge of potato or a torn off end of
bacon when her head was turned.

Five weeks after the convention they flew to Nevada to attend a black
tie campaign fundraiser thrown by hotel magnate, Steve Wynn. On the
surface it was a presidential grip-and-grin, but in truth it was an
eleventh hour money grab for the D-Triple-C, designed to provide funds
for the hard-up Democratic congressional candidates running in
vulnerable Republican districts.

A fundraiser in Sin City was a tough sell to the undecideds for
Communications Director, Lou Thornton. To outsiders with a more
conservative bent it would appear decadent, like the president was
planning to hit the Mirage for an all night gambling bender. On the
other hand, the Santos administration owed Nevada the love. After
all, it was the Silver State that got them to White House in the first
place, and they couldn't just sweep that under the rug.

For Ron Butterfield it was potentially a security nightmare. One
which nearly forced the cancellation of the entire event before it
could even be planned. A hotel on the Strip was out of the question;
too many tourists, too many entrances and exits, too many unknown
entities. He'd nixed the idea as soon as it had been suggested.

In the end, Steve Wynn agreed to host a smaller, more exclusive
fundraiser at his private residence at the Southern Highlands Golf
Club. All parties believed this to be the best solution for everyone
concerned. For Agent Butterfield it was easier to secure a private
residence, especially if it already had tight security. For Lou
Thornton, the president attending a private party in a private home
presented a much nicer image than President Santos trying his luck at
the blackjack tables.

The mansion was beautifully decorated, the food was catered, and the
entertainment was provided by The Blue Man Group on a permanent stage
in the backyard. Donna and Josh separated when they walked in the
front door to divide and conquer. She wandered from room to room,
meeting and greeting, and discussing upcoming policy initiatives while
smiling coyly and repeating the phrase `we'd happily accept your
support' ad nauseum.

After an hour of gripping and grinning with a blur of faces, she
stepped out onto the back terrace in search of a waiter with champagne
or wine. The sun was setting on the horizon and the yard had been lit
with enough torches to provide ambiance and hidden spotlights to
provide actual light. Dinner would be served in an hour on the red
granite slab terrace which hosted some thirty exquisitely decorated
tables.

Rather than the glass of white wine or champagne she usually nursed at
these events, Donna had been overwhelmed by the need to consume glass
after glass of water to stave off the encroaching sensation of
dehydration brought on by the desert environs. Now, however, she was
ready for something with more of a bite.

Within an hour of wheels down at Nellis Air Force Base she'd been
forced to reapply lip gloss twice. Her skin had felt dry and parched,
and her lips had stung like they were on the fast track to being
chapped. All she could think was that the women of Las Vegas must
spend a veritable fortune on moisturizer just to keep from feeling
like their skin was composed of parchment paper.

Now that the sun was sinking and the stars in the sky were beginning
to twinkle, the desert air began to cool at last. The scorching heat
of the afternoon sun dipped a full ten degrees making dining al fresco
a possibility. The desert temperatures could fall another ten degrees
before the night was over. But the granite terrace would hold the
heat for a while yet, providing warmth despite the drastic drop in
temperature for which the desert was famous.

As she searched for a tray-bearing waiter, Donna's eyes fell on a
familiar face she hadn't seen in awhile.

Sam and his wife had flown out two days prior to the fundraiser
because she hailed from Las Vegas and her parents still resided there.
Donna adored Sam's wife for a host of reasons, one of which was her
name which was even more noteworthy than her own.

The first time they met, Raleigh Padgett had been nothing like Donna
expected. She hadn't been sleek and polished, as Donna assumed an
attorney of Sam's acquaintance would be. Her first impression of
Raleigh was that she was plain. Not in a homely, unattractive way,
but in a way that forced Donna to wonder what qualities Raleigh
possessed that would possibly make Sam look twice. She wasn't his
usual type.

Her hair was too mousy brown with enough natural curl to bring out the
frizz but not enough to actually be curly. Her lips were too thin,
and her cheekbones were ostensibly hidden beneath cheeks that were too
rounded. Her legs were too short and her torso was too long for
clothes to drape stylishly on her body. Obviously, Mother Nature
hadn't consulted the fashion industry when creating Raleigh Padgett.

It took about five seconds for Donna to realize that it must have been
her striking sea foam green eyes that made her otherwise uninspiring
features come alive. And when Donna told Raleigh a story of Sam and
Josh during their partner-in-crime days, she discovered that the
woman's laugh was infectious and her wit was razor sharp; and suddenly
Raleigh seemed just like the sort of woman Sam would fall in love with.

Donna made a bee-line for Raleigh when she caught sight of her on the
fire lit terrace of Wynn's palatial home. As Donna approached she
noticed that the woman's green gown matched her eyes perfectly and,
for once, seemed to drape her body to perfection.

"New gown?"

"Donna!" Raleigh turned and hugged Donna excitedly. Raleigh had that
marvelous ability to make whomever she was talking to feel like the
most important person in the room. "Yes," she replied to Donna's
inquiry when she stepped back. "It's a custom design. You like?"

"You look beautiful," Donna answered, honestly. Raleigh's brown hair
was coiled and coifed atop her head like a crown, with tendrils
falling in that way that was meant to appear haphazard but was truly
carefully planned.

"So do you." Raleigh's eyes twinkled. "No wonder Josh has been
looking for you."

"Where is he?"

"I just saw him with the CEO from Teckron Industries; trying to get
blood from a stone, no doubt."

"That's what he's good at," Donna smiled.

At $5,000 a plate, the fundraiser was one of the more expensive and
lucrative that Donna had ever attended. But just because people paid
the piper to get in, didn't mean they weren't trying to squeeze more
cash and coin out of the wealthy attendees. Before the night was over
Donna knew she would be doing her own fair share of schmoozing. Right
now, however, she wanted to catch up with Raleigh, whom she hadn't
seen in several weeks.

Donna reached for two champagne flutes from a passing tray and turned
back to Raleigh. "Let's sit down and chat." She passed one of the
glasses to her friend, who accepted it and pointed to an empty table
in a more secluded area of the terrace. "Promise me that after the
election we'll get together and spend the day at Andre's getting the
works."

Raleigh cringed. "I have a confession to make."

"What is it?"

Raleigh sighed, a single finger circling the rim of her champagne
flute and staring at it as if it were the most engrossing sight her
eyes had seen in a long while. "I hate that place, Donna."

"You do? Why?" Donna was shocked. Andre's was one of the most
exclusive and luxurious salons in the metro.

"I don't think I get quite the same service there that you do," she
shrugged. "When I walk in the door I feel like they're thinking, `I
thought we got rid of her the last time.' I spent six years living in
LA, Donna; I know snobbery when I'm subjected to it."

"Snobbery?"

"I'm not exactly their target clientele, Donna," Raleigh soberly
replied. "I'm not skinny enough, not tall enough, and not sleek
enough. Take your pick. Whenever we've gone there in the past, they
always made me feel that the only reason they had taken me on was
because you'd...I don't know...sponsored me or something."

"Oh, Raleigh," Donna whispered empathetically. She remembered what it
felt like to think that people were looking down their upturned noses
at her. Sometimes she still felt people staring daggers into her
back. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Because you seem to really love that place."

"Well, not if they make you feel bad. We'll try someplace else...Piaf
or Anu. It's no big deal."

"It's a date then."

"How's work?" Donna asked.

"Crazy. I'm thinking about changing disciplines," Raleigh announced
as though it were no big deal.

"What? I thought you loved working for the PDS."

"I do. I love being a public defender, you know that, but my hours
are worse than Sam's. I don't mind the time constraints, I really
don't, not if it were just - well...." She trailed off.

"What is it?"

"I've been thinking about Family Law, and I've been putting feelers out."

"Divorce?" Donna finished the last of her champagne and set her glass
to the side.

"Child advocacy, parental support, adoption," Raleigh countered, her
fingers toying with the stem of her still full champagne flute. "I
still want to do some good."

It was perhaps the central aspect of her personality that drew Sam to
Raleigh; her desire to serve - to do good in the world. Above all,
she wanted to leave this world better than she found it. Donna had
once asked her why she didn't want to work in the White House, and
Raleigh had told her that it was too big. It wasn't nearly personal
enough.

Throughout their conversation Donna had watched Raleigh carefully,
utilizing a technique she learned from years in the political area. A
technique she often had difficulty turning off. Her friend seemed a
little nervous, despite her beautiful gown. Raleigh's complaint about
the salon was somewhat out of character, because she was the type to
hold her head high and take on all comers. You couldn't work as a
public defender and not be scrappy, especially as a woman.

Donna also noticed that while she was casting about for another waiter
to bring her a second glass of champagne, Raleigh had tasted not a
drop of her own.

"Are you going to drink that?" Donna tested.

"You can have it." Raleigh happily handed the glass to Donna, who
accepted it with a suspicious glance.

"You love champagne."

"I guess...I'm not in the mood."

"At a $5,000 a plate fundraiser?"

"I'm the designated driver?" Raleigh made a valiant last ditch effort
to throw Donna off the scent.

"You came in a town car."

"Oh...right."

When the pieces fell into place Donna gasped and pointed at her friend
with an accusing finger. "You're pregnant, Raleigh Padgett Seaborn!"

"You're too damn observant for your own good, Donnatella Moss Lyman."
Raleigh shook her head. "We weren't going to tell anyone for two
more weeks. Except for our parents; we wanted to wait until after the
first trimester."

"I'd do the math, but I'm so flummoxed right now. When are you due?"

"Valentine's Day...can you believe it?" Raleigh's breathtaking green
eyes were glowing with joy, and Donna couldn't believe she hadn't seen
it before.

She felt a twinge of envy and longing in her heart, but covered it
with her smile, and stood from the table to take her friend in a
celebratory embrace. "I'm so happy for you," Donna whispered. When
she pulled back, she took Raleigh's hands in hers. "We're going to
have so much fun. I'm going to plan the biggest baby shower DC has
ever seen."

"Okay...but not too big," Raleigh contradicted with a giggle.

"Okay," Donna nodded. "I'm going to plan the most precious intimate
baby shower DC has ever seen. And we're going to go baby shopping
every weekend."

"Okay, except when you're out of town campaigning."

"Right. We'll go shopping on the internet."

"I hear you can get anything on the internet these days."

"You heard right. This baby is going to be so spoiled."

"You told her!" Another voice interrupted. Donna's head snapped
around to meet the voice even though she knew exactly whose voice it was.

"I didn't tell, I swear," Raleigh defended. "I merely confirmed.
Donna's very observant, honey. One might say, to a fault."

"I'm sorry I ruined your plans, Sam." Donna threw her arms around Sam
and hugged him as tight her Christian Dior original would allow. Her
eyes pricked with unshed tears. "I was just telling your wife how
thrilled I was for you both."

This was Sam, she realized. Sam Seaborn, whom she loved like a
brother. Who'd been more like a brother to her than her own had been.
Now he was going to be a father, and there was something incredibly
amazing about that. As if he was taking the final step to adulthood -
at the age of forty-three.

"You're going to have to tell Josh," she told him. "You know I won't
be able to keep this a secret for long. Certainly not for two weeks.
You'll be lucky if I hold out until dinner."

"It frightens me that you work at the White House," he intoned with
only the slightest quirk in his lips.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1.

Feedback is appreciated.




****

The Tell 14/21
By Lacy


Josh knew something was amiss with Donna from where he stood ten yards
away. He'd been wandering in out of rooms for the last fifteen
minutes in search of her, and finally spotted her on the terrace
talking to Sam and Raleigh. Her shoulders were tight, her smile too
wide and toothy, and her gestures were too breezy. Even from this
distance he could see that her eyes were dull and flat.

Spying Sam and Raleigh with her, Josh let himself relax a touch.
Whatever had happened to her, he knew that Sam and Raleigh were safe
haven, though his mind still concocted plenty of scenarios that could
upset Donna in a situation like this.

Wealthy people, men in particular, usually felt a sense of entitlement
over just about anything. Such arrogance occasionally prompted men to
make for the nearest beautiful blonde and overstep the bounds of
propriety. This wouldn't be the first time at a fundraiser that Donna
had been propositioned or insulted. Not here, and not now, but sooner
or later he'd pry the details out of her.

She caught sight of him as he approached and, if such a thing were
possible her smile froze even deeper on her face, as if etched in ice.

"There you are." She kissed his cheek as he snaked his arm around her
waist and pulled her close.

"Here I am." He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "What's wrong?"

Donna's head tilted in confusion when he pulled back to examine her
reaction. She shook her head, smile stuck stubbornly in place. "Sam
and Raleigh have news."

"I could use some good news," he lamented. Aside from the $5,000 a
plate haul the D-Triple-C was raking in tonight, he'd been decidedly
unlucky at reeling in the big fish for more money. It had been mostly
penny-ante stuff so far. "It is good news, isn't it?" he asked worriedly.

"We think it is." Sam grinned his lopsided grin and pulled Raleigh
closer. "This isn't for public consumption, so don't spread it
around," he warned.

"Spill it, Sam."

"We're having a baby."

Josh's brain browned-out, the lights in his attic flickering and
fading before returning brighter than ever. Sam's smile seemed
blinding and Raleigh's eyes couldn't have sparkled more if there were
fairy lights behind them. Josh wasn't the type of guy who ever knew
what to do, what was expected, in these types of moments, so he did
the only thing he could think of.

Letting go of Donna's waist, he threw his arms around his long-time
friend and hugged him tightly, slapping Sam's back. "That's amazing,"
he hooted, perhaps a little too loudly. For a moment, when he pulled
back to look at Sam, Josh slipped into the past, to a time when they
were both single men-about-town whose only plans for the future
involved moving up the political ladder and slamming a couple of beers
at the trendiest bars in DC on Friday nights.

Before Hoynes, before Gage/Whitney, before Lisa Sherborne, and
certainly before Donna; when the name Bartlet was just one on a roster
of fifty governors and Leo McGarry was the Secretary of Labor. When
they spent a seemingly endless string of Friday nights dreaming of
finding someone they could really believe in; the `real thing' that
would galvanize them and make them want to serve just for the pleasure
of it. Where had the time gone? How had it slipped away from them so
quickly?

"Congratulations." Josh felt the smile slip from his face to melt
into something more wistfully reverent. "That's really...quite something."

"It really is," Sam agreed, catching Josh's sentiment like a
contagion. "Can you believe it?"

"I can," Josh realized, surprised to find his words were the truth.
"It couldn't happen to a better guy. Or woman," he added, when it
occurred to him that he'd left someone quite important out of the
occasion. He hugged Raleigh too, a display that was unusual for him,
as evidenced by the expression of shock on her face. "That's going to
be one lucky kid."

"Thank you, Josh," Raleigh sniffed.

He'd made her cry and he turned to Sam, his face apologetic his
wrinkled brow begging loudly for intervention. Sam passed her a
folded handkerchief and Raleigh wiped her eyes before smiling letting
Josh off the hook. "Hormones," she explained. "I cried over the
Dodgers/Mariners game last night."

"Didn't we all?" Josh jested. He sighed with relief when Raleigh
laughed heartily and her tears seemed to disappear like a heat mirage
on the highway. The foursome dissolved into silence.

"Wow," Sam said to Josh. "That was probably more sentimentality than
you're comfortable with."

"You think?" Donna chuckled. "He'd never cop to it, but he does have
his limits." Only Josh seemed to notice that her laughter felt a tiny
bit forced. Again, he vowed to uncover the reasons for her discomfort.

Saved by the bell, an announcement indicated that dinner would be
served momentarily and guests were implored to take their seats.
Lavishly decorated tables bore nameplates to designate where each
guest should sit; the Lymans and the Seaborns were seated at separate
tables to better utilize fundraising opportunities. Josh shook Sam's
hand and congratulated him one more time before slipping his arm
around Donna's waist and leading her to their designated table.

All through the cheese and salad courses she chattered incessantly in
low undertones about her plans to take Raleigh shopping for `the
thing', plans to throw a shower; all of her plans, plans, plans.

"I hope that sometime between all of this baby shopping you'll
remember that we have a president to re-elect," he mentioned breezily.

"Of course, Josh. I remember that I have a job to do. I can find a
way to do both," she snapped. Her eyes, which had been flat and
disturbingly emotionless during the chattering, now burned with fire.

Josh set his fork down and leaned into her, draping his arm over the
back of her chair. "Okay...I was going to wait until later, but...what
happened?"

"I don't know what you mean. What do you mean, what happened?"

"Something happened to upset you. I could see it from across the
patio. Did someone say something to you? Make a pass or something?"

"No," she shook her head, studying him quizzically. "What do you mean
you could see it from across the patio? Nothing happened."

"Your tense shoulders, your smile that's a little too wide, and the
fact that your eyes don't seem to realize that your mouth is happy
about something," he listed. "Let's not forget your `tell'."

"My `tell'?"

"The constant wringing of a cocktail napkin between your fingers. I
know the signs. I know when you're upset about something."

"I don't wring napkins when I'm upset."

"If this were poker, you'd be in the hole."

"I'm not upset, Josh."

Josh pointedly glanced down at her lap, where the fingers of the hand
that rested there had crunched the linen napkin into a distressed
little ball. Donna's eyes followed his and her fork clattered loudly
on the salad plate when she dropped it to straighten the linen square
in her lap.

"I rest my case," he huffed. "Just tell me," he pled. "Did something
happen?"

This time she looked him straight in the eye and said in an even,
honest tone, "Nothing happened, Josh. No one made any improper
advances towards me or said anything rude."

He studied her face, reading the truth there, but still wondered what
had caused her tension and discomfort. "Okay," he decided, and went
back to picking at his salad.

"And even if they had I could've handled it."

"I'm not saying you couldn't. Just because you can handle a bad
situation doesn't mean you won't be upset by it."

"I'm fine," she said, placing her hand on his knee under the table.
"You're worried for nothing." She smiled and tilted her head. "It's
sweet though."

Josh wasn't the quickest mind out there when it came to reading the
subliminal signals of women. He could sit across the table from a
member of Congress and read every eye twitch or every intake of breath
to predict their next move. But women were a whole different kettle
of fish. Donna, he understood better than most women, if not all the
rest, but still it was an iffy proposition -- a crapshoot, really.
For the first time since their wedding, it occurred to Josh that this
marriage thing could be hard.

His denseness when it came to women was a closely guarded secret --
except among those who'd actually gone out with him, or knew him well,
or were married to him. This was why it took him more than two weeks
of mulling it over to figure out what was wrong with her the night of
the fundraiser.

Well, two weeks of mulling and a little help from Charlie.

Three days after Charlie received his results for the bar exam, Josh
offered him a job. Amy's resignation left a void that needed to be
filled, so Josh promoted the Deputy Legislative Director and offered
Charlie the position that had been vacated. So, they saw each other
on a daily basis, but still met every Sunday when possible for a game
of hoops to let off some steam, and sometimes so Josh could have his
manhood handed to him in more ways the one.

An aggressive game of one-on-one ended with the two of them just
trading shots at the hoop and shooting the breeze while Chester
lounged in the sun by the chain-link fence.

"She's bucking for godmother, or something. She's on the phone with
Raleigh every other day. `How was the first ultrasound?' `Is
everything okay?' `I can't wait to see the video.' `Is there
anything you need?' When she's not working, she's getting together
with Raleigh, or planning to get together or getting together to plan
more get-togethers."

"For the last two week you have gone on and on about this. Your
jealousy has become painful for me, Josh." Charlie commented as he
tossed the ball at the hoop. It swirled once around the rim before
tipping over into the net.

Josh stepped forward to intercept the ball and moved back to set up
his shot. "We had a routine, Charlie. We used to plan our time
together, and now she wants to spend every spare moment with Raleigh.
I guess I never realized how involved women get with one another's
pregnancies. It's like...'the baby this, the baby that' twenty-four
seven."

"And you're having a problem figuring out what's wrong with her?"

"Yeah."

"Let me ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"Before they put you on bypass, just how long was your brain deprived
of oxygen?"

Josh fumbled the basketball in his hands, before it bounced to the
ground. He scrambled to get it back, nearly tripping over his own
feet in the process. When he managed to recover he snapped his head
in Charlie's direction, staring him down with his best
I'm-your-boss-and-you'll-shut-up-now glare.

Charlie met his glare ice for ice, before a slow, repentant smile
spread across his face. The smile drew a snort of laughter from Josh,
his own reaction taking him by surprise. Charlie answered with a
chuckle and a second later were laughing until their insides hurt. It
was the first time anything to do with the shooting had spawned
something worth laughing about.

"Okay," Josh relented, heaving in a breath of air. "I confess I'm not
an expert in the minds of women. They're a complete mystery to me."

"This isn't news, Josh. In fact, it's been a source of amusement for
many people over the years. I think you know that." Charlie whipped
the ball from Josh's unguarded hands and went for a lazy lay-up.

"Well, I had plausible deniability until just now."

"Envy," Charlie concluded.

"What?" Josh asked, taken aback by the conversational change in
direction.

"She wants to be a mother, my friend. And she's jealous of Raleigh,
but she doesn't want Raleigh to know she's jealous so she
overcompensates." Charlie bounced the ball to Josh for his turn at
the basket.

Josh bounced the ball once before shooting it, deflecting it off the
backboard before sending it into the net. "That's the craziest thing
I've ever heard."

"Well, the human mind on occasion has been described as crazy."

"Did you get a degree in Psychology that I don't know about?"

"No, but I have a PhD in women, boss," Charlie grinned as he dunked
another shot. "You remember when we first met?"

"At the interview?"

"Yeah. You told me I would have make myself invisible in plain sight
as well be an undeniable force in front of those who want more time
than we're willing to give. Remember that?"

"No," Josh shook his head. "Probably because of the oxygen
deprivation; but it sounds about right."

"I was very good at being invisible in plan sight, and when you're
busy being invisible you learn to observe, to see the things that
other people don't want you to see."

"Charlie, if you're about to tell me something about President Bartlet-"

"I don't talk about the president, Josh. But I saw things about Donna
that you didn't see."

"What things?"

"Like how when Amy would call for you, Donna would use her most
pleasant voice. Or how she damn near pasted a wax smile to her face
for a week after Mrs. Bartlet hired Amy as her Chief of Staff. She
got good at hiding it when she was upset. Good enough that if you
think she's upset, odds are you're right. Trust me, Josh, if this all
started when she found out about the baby, then that's your source.
So...I'm going to give you some advice you don't want to hear."

"Since I so rarely like to get advice, you'd probably be right."

"You need to show her that you're not entirely unaware of her desires."

"How do I do that exactly?"

"What? I'm supposed to know everything? You're the brilliant
strategist; I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"How do you know so much about women?"

"Until I was twenty, the most important people in my life were women.
I was raised by a single mother and when she died I had a sister that
still needed raising. I had to learn on the fly."

"Yeah," Josh concurred. He tossed the ball back to Charlie without
taking another shot, signaling the end of their afternoon. He
whistled for Chester who bounded over obediently, his tail wagging
vigorously. "Time to head home, boy," Josh told the dog bending over
to scratch him behind his ears, which were warm from basking in the sun.

Arriving home, Josh found the apartment empty but wasn't surprised. A
note from Donna revealed that she'd gone grocery shopping and she'd
appreciate it if he'd clean out the fridge before she returned. There
wasn't much to dispose of, which was why they needed groceries in the
first place, but he took the five minutes to fulfill her request.

Chester matched him step for step in the kitchen, his eyes alight with
excitement, hoping that some of the food leaving the refrigerator
would end up in his stomach. His wagging tail thumped mercilessly
against any surface that stood in its way, providing a drum-like
accompaniment to his master's movement. Josh filled the dog's water
bowl in hopes of distracting Chester long enough to finish his task.
A dog Chester's size, it seemed, was always underfoot in their one
bedroom condo.

He took a quick shower after finishing up in the kitchen and threw on
jeans and a sweat shirt. The dining table was littered with work
papers, notes and ideas, as well as his laptop and one of Donna's
accordion folders. Grocery shopping meant dinner at home for once, so
Josh would have to clear off the table anyway. Bunching together the
papers, careful to separate his from hers, he longed for a home office
with a computer desk, perhaps two. A home office would be nice,
someplace for bookshelves and filing cabinets and desk lamps. He
hated having to work beneath the weak light of the dining nook dimmer
- his eyes weren't as young as they used to be.

Come to think of it, he was tired of a lot of things about this place.
Once upon a time, when he'd spent no more than a few hours a week
here, it served as a functional base of operations, but it was no
longer cut out to be a home. The condo was a bachelor's pad, bursting
at the seams as it pretended to be a honeymooner's nest. Especially
now, with Chester always underfoot.

A key rattled in the lock and the door was kicked open as Donna
staggered into the living room, buried beneath the weight of grocery bags.

"A little help," she groaned. Her entreaty was unnecessary, as Josh
was already halfway across the room to relieve her of some of her
burden. "Thanks," she sighed, when he whipped the majority of bags
out of her arms. "There's more downstairs in the car." Josh sensed
that she wasn't passing along this information to keep him in the
grocery-bag loop.

"Okay." He dumped the paper sacks on the kitchen counter wherever
they would fit and departed for the remainder of her purchases. It
took three trips to haul it all in while she busied herself with
putting the groceries away.

"I went a little crazy," she confessed, looking around at the bags.

"Did you tell me we were throwing a party when I wasn't paying attention?"

"I'm tired of eating out all the time," she announced. "I should be a
better cook. Don't you think I should be a better cook?"

"If you think I'm touching that with a ten foot pole, you're crazy."

"It's more economical to eat at home."

"Okay."

"Especially if you clip coupons; I think I'm going to start clipping
coupons again. I used to clip coupons when I was in dire need of a
raise."

`Dire need of a raise' was her code for `when you were my boss'.
"With all that free time you have?" He grinned. He couldn't help it.
Donna seemed to be having one of her manic unspooling moments, which
appeared to be minor and emotionally unthreatening; therefore it was
immensely amusing for him.

"I'm excellent at time management, Joshua."

"And the crazy just keeps on coming," he muttered beneath his breath
before saying to her, "It is one of your many, many God-given talents,
my dear."

"Are you humoring me?"

"What do you think?" He smiled, enigmatically - he hoped. Off her
piercing stare, he silently called a truce by helping her put away the
rest of the food. "So...we're going to be eating at home more often.
I'm okay with that."

When they finished he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to
him, seizing her lips in an undemanding kiss. She answered back with
a sigh, and he felt it as frissons of tension left her body. "Mmmm,"
she moaned when he pulled away, "you smell good."

"You taste good," he countered.

"I'm cooking dinner tonight."

"I can see that you're serious about this."

"Yes," she said. "So, if you want to eat anytime soon you should make
yourself scarce so I can get to work."

"Are you telling me to get out of your kitchen?"

"That's what I am doing, yes. And take Chester with you," she
ordered. Chester had crammed himself along with them in the kitchen
hardly big enough for one person. "He'll get in my way."

"As will I, I presume." Josh glanced down at the smiling face of the
golden retriever. Chester's glee was made all the more apparent by
the wagging tale, spinning in a circular motion like a rotor blade.
His busy nose stuck in the air as the dog catalogued the many
possibilities for dropped morsels.

"Hope springs eternal," Donna snorted. "Feed him, please."

"Let's go, boy," Josh commanded. "I'll put food in your bowl."

Chester followed reluctantly, and then halfheartedly examined the food
Josh put out for him. Between bites the dog would gaze longingly
toward the kitchen. Josh turned on the television for a hit of CSPAN
and collapsed onto the couch. After scarfing down his kibble, Chester
joined Josh, sticking his nose beneath the hand dangling off the sofa.
Taking the hint, Josh scratched behind the dog's ears and under his chin.

Donna periodically called out to Josh, asking him questions or passing
along information which he either answered or subliminally absorbed.
He was drifting into a state of sleepy relaxation when he was jarred
to alertness by the clamor of pots and pans and a scream of distress
from Donna.

Josh rocketed off the sofa and into the kitchen, his heart racing,
Chester only a step behind.

The kitchen and Donna were covered in what looked and smelled like
spaghetti sauce. Josh's first concern was for his wife; Chester made
a bee-line for the sauce. Donna shooed Chester away from the hot
sauce that was still steaming on the linoleum.

"Are you okay?" he frantically inquired, trying to calm his racing
heart. "Are you hurt?"

"The pot landed on my foot."

"Were you burned?"

"I think I'm okay. The floor got the worst of it." Though she
insisted that the floor had taken most of the damage it was clear that
her tennis shoes and jeans were destined for the trash heap. There
was no way the stains would come out.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I tripped on a warp in the linoleum." She replied sheepishly, her
breath hitching in her throat.

"Okay. You get out of those clothes and take a shower; I'll...clean up
this mess."

"Really?" Her eyes widened with shock.

"Yes! Now, go."

"You'll have to use bleach." Already, she was unbuttoning and
unzipping her jeans, removing them in the kitchen to avoid tracking
the mess through the rest of the apartment.

"I can handle it."

"Mop's in the pantry."

"I know where the mop is," he defended. Josh flipped the dials on the
stove to turn off the heat under the boiling pasta. Typically, the
momentary fear produced by the noise and the sounds of her distress
were already morphing into a cloying, dark anger.

"The marinara's ruined."

"We'll order in," he said curtly. "You can cook something tomorrow
night."

"Okay." She tiptoed out of the kitchen while he surveyed the mess.
The spray of marinara all over the floor and cabinet made it appear as
if someone had died a horribly bloody death. Josh shook off the chill
that raced down his spine. Donna was fine, but it could have been
worse. It could have been much worse. If the boiling of sauce had
fallen one way and not the other she could have ended up with some
nasty burns. The last thing he wanted to think about seemed to be the
only thing on his mind.

By the time Donna reappeared with a wet head and scrubbed-clean skin,
he was already mopping the floor to the best of his limited ability.
Chlorine bleach mixed in with the mop water produced an odor that was
enough to put him off his dinner for awhile, but she ordered
sandwiches anyway from a deli down the block.

"What is it?" she inquired, leaning against the kitchen entryway.

"Hmm?" he grunted, as he wrung out the mop in the sink.

"Are you angry? It was just an accident."

"I know." He put the mop away and then began to wash his hands,
slathering them with pineapple flavored soap, to rid them of their
chlorine smell. He scanned the kitchen as he dried his hands on a
dish rag. She'd been making lasagna, the ingredients and tools spread
over all the counters. "I think we should buy a house," he blurted.

"I'm sorry?"

He considered his own outburst as she looked on, before nodding. "I
think we should buy a house. I mean...it's phase four of the plan, right?"

"Are you serious?" Donna stood up straight, a slow smile spreading
across her face. "You want to buy a house?"

"We've been crammed into this place for nearly four years. It was
fine at first...our little love nest," he grinned his most charming
smile. "But we've merged our lives and we've accumulated stuff along
the way."

"And there's Chester."

"There's Chester," he agreed.

"He'd probably appreciate a backyard," Donna pointed out.

"So, you're thinking the suburbs?"

"We can get more for our money."

"I guess."

"Are we really talking about this?" she breathed.

"I think we are...I mean...yeah. It's time. Don't you think it's time?"

"Phase four?"

"And then...you know...phase five."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm saying that we can talk about phase five. I don't want to do
anything about it until after phase four, but it's okay if we talk
about it."

"Maybe if we're not scared to talk about it, then you might feel more
ready when it's time to initiate that part of the plan."

"Maybe."

It seemed like a reasonable idea to him. After all, you couldn't just
obliterate fear by sweeping it under the rug, pretending that the
thing you feared didn't exist. Intellectually he knew that. But this
wasn't guns or car bombs, or Donna getting hurt or President Santos
being assassinated.

"It's being responsible for another human being for the rest of your
life," he muttered aloud.

"Yeah," she smiled.

"I'm not sure I have that in me."

Donna's burst of laughter caught him completely by surprise. He was
confessing the basis of his fear, and she was laughing. Guffawing
would better describe it. He watched her with his jaw dropped.

"Oh, Josh," she heaved, trying to breathe and laugh at the same time.

"What's so funny?"

"You're not sure you have that in you?"

"Yeah, so?"

"As long as I've known you, you've spent your whole life feeling
responsible for people. It's why you do what you do. It's why you
worked so hard to protect Leo during the hearings; or protect me from
perjury charges. That's why you gave back the NSC card I'm not
supposed to know about during the first term. It's one of the reasons
I fell in love with you, Josh. It's why you flew to Germany."

"I flew to Germany because I love you."

"And in doing so you took me on; you took responsibility for me. It's
what we do when we love someone." Her eyes teamed with unshed tears,
which he could only guess stemmed from some female emotion he couldn't
begin to explain. "Josh...you waste so much time denying your loving
nature; trying to bury it beneath macho posturing. All that does...is
deprive you of the best that life has to offer."

Josh had no response to make to that, so it was good thing that the
buzzer rang, signaling the arrival of their dinner. Donna buzzed the
delivery guy in while Josh rummaged through is wallet for the cash to
pay for the food.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1.




****



The Tell 15/21
By Lacy


Hours later she treated him to a massage in bed as they talked about
the house they would buy, bouncing their ideas off each other.

"How many bedrooms?" she asked.

"Three," he answered, groaning beneath her practiced, confident touch.
"Maybe four."

"A big kitchen," she countered. "With a double oven."

"I have no idea why you would need that, but okay."

"A double oven makes holiday cooking easier."

"So...you're not just going to order the pre-made Thanksgiving dinner
from the Giant Foods this year?"

"Shut up."

"Okay," he snorted. "Hey, you know what I want?"

"What's that?"

"A work space that doesn't involve a dining surface of any kind," he
chuckled.

"A basement with lots of storage space."

"A two-car garage with a driveway."

"Ahh," she wistfully intoned. "No more driving around the block
waiting for a parking space to open up," she agreed excitedly.

"Double sinks in the master bathroom."

"Enough closet space for the both of us," she sighed, digging her
fingers into his shoulders. "Maybe even separate closets."

"We'll have to wait until after the election," he said.

"Yeah."

"Not that I don't have complete and total confidence in the American
people reelecting the president-"

"But we shouldn't jinx anything," she finished.

"Right."

"But," she drawled, "That doesn't mean we can't lay the groundwork."

"Such as?"

"Talk to a real estate agent about putting this place on the market.
I could research the best neighborhoods within our commuting radius.
We'll want something with a low crime rate."

"I think the Secret Service will demand it."

"Something in an affordable area," she mused.

"In a good school district," he offered.

Donna's hands stilled on his shoulders and her breath caught
imperceptibly in her throat. She knew this was a gift to her; saying
out loud what she had only been thinking. Acknowledging her desires
and somehow, in a small way, taking them on as his own. Her heart
burst with love for him as her hands continued their ministrations.
"Yeah," she smiled sweetly, "Somewhere in a good school district."
She leaned down and placed a kiss on his neck before rolling off of
him and onto her side. "Thank you," she whispered without expecting a
response.

They drifted off to sleep on their respective sides of the bed, both
feeling as though there were something terribly exciting in their
future that, for once, had nothing to do with their jobs.

Work became increasingly frenetic over the next few weeks, as members
of the Santos administration split their time between running the
country and securing the promise of another four years. Josh was only
mildly surprised when Donna managed to carve out the time to meet with
an appraiser on top of her professional duties with only twenty-eight
days remaining on the election calendar.

They met for dinner in the Mess the evening after the appraisal on
their condo. As Election Day neared Josh's days became longer as he
steered the administration to another election victory while
simultaneously keeping his fingers in all aspects of running the
federal government. The Mess was, thankfully, a ghost town as he sat
across from Donna as he chewed his way through an over seasoned
chicken breast.

"Improvements need to be made," Donna announced.

"I should have known it wouldn't be that easy."

"It's a buyer's market," she shrugged. "There are a lot of homes on
the market. If we want to sell anytime soon, we need the condo be in
excellent condition. Not just good condition," she reiterated.
"Excellent condition."

"Let's wait until it's a seller's market," he suggested.

"Good plan," she deadpanned, "because we definitely want to get
shafted when we buy a house."

"Right. Better to get shafted on the selling end."

"But we won't have to get shafted, Josh. If we spend a little money
on improvements we could sell faster which a much larger profit margin."

"Improvements such as...?"

"The kitchen linoleum is a wash. Tile will sell better. The oven and
range should be replaced with something that wasn't state of the art
during the Cold War. I have a list." She slid a piece of paper
across the table to him.

He perused the list and muttered, "I hardly lived in the place for the
first ten years I owned it."

"She thinks if we make the improvements we can sell for $650,000."

Josh choked on a piece of chicken. He could make a $200,000 profit
minus the costs of the improvements.

"See," Donna smiled, "it's not all bad."

"Remodel the whole place if you want," he decided.

And that was that. Like the efficiency expert she was, Donna chose
and purchased new tiles for the kitchen in a matter of days. Josh
returned home one evening to find Donna on her knees on the kitchen
floor with a linoleum knife in hand.

"What are you doing?"

Donna sliced the linoleum and tore at it, tugging as much of it off
the floor as she could. "I'm searching for Blackbeard's treasure,
Josh; what does it look like I'm doing?" She glanced up to where Josh
stood in the archway, finding him enticingly rumpled from a long day
at work.

"It looks like you're punishing the kitchen floor. It can't help that
it's ugly, Donna." She was bent over slicing the linoleum with her
knife, her tank top bunched up enough to see the dip in her lower back
just above the waistband of her worn jeans. Josh's mind began to
meander into erotic territories.

"The tiles are being delivered tomorrow," she huffed, her arms
straining as the tore the thick plastic. "If I want to retile the
floor by Monday, I need to get this off and the concrete scraped
before Saturday."

Josh liked the way her tongue peeked out of her mouth as she sliced
and tore. "Okay," he chuckled. "Wait a minute...what?"

Donna stopped tearing and looked up at him, swiping her forearm across
her brow to clear the sweat from her exertions. "I said if I want to
retile-"

"That's what I thought you said."

"Then why are you bothering me?"

"They have people who do this sort of thing. For a living. Men with
tools, and work pants that reveal more cleavage than the Pussycat
Dolls." Donna scowled at the thought, leading him to believe that he
was taking the wrong tack. "Men with kids to put through college and
who use the money we pay them to pay back into the economy."

"But I can save us a lot of money."

"First of all, do you actually know how to do this?"

"I have the whole Time/Life series of do-it-yourself books," she
smirked. "I could build a deck if you want me to do."

"Seriously."

"Dad's a contractor, Josh; you think I didn't learn a thing or two?
He built houses for a living and during summers in high school and
college I tiled bathrooms and kitchens; while helping the office
manager with payroll and liaising with building inspectors, I might
add. It's also how I paid for a certain person's medical school."

"You're a real Renaissance woman, you know that?" The sleek muscles
of her arms glistened with a sheen of perspiration as she cut and tore
at the linoleum. His face flushed with heat and his pants tightened
when she glanced up to him and smiled.

"I do." Donna's lips quirked up as she continued slicing away at the
linoleum.

"Why didn't I know about your blue collar past? And I don't want to
hear any crap about a girl having her secrets," he headed her off.

"It wasn't the kind of thing that was going to get me a job working on
a national campaign. Plus, when we met I didn't want to think about
anything to do with Wesley Daniels. Does my blue collar past bother
you? Will I be black-balled from the Westport Junior League?"

"I don't know; did you wear overalls and a hard hat?"

"A hard hat, yes," she nodded. "As for the overalls, I usually just
wore my Daisy Dukes."

Josh's jaw tightened, along with other parts of him. "I need to have
sex with you right now."

"Okay," she giggled, tossing the knife to the floor. Donna was no
fool, he understood; she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Later, as the sweat was drying from their skin and their breath evened
out, Josh turned to Donna, propping himself up on one elbow.

"You were teasing about the Daisy Dukes, weren't you?"

"Yes," she confessed. "Dad wouldn't have allowed me to get away with
that - not with all those men around. I wore a jumpsuit; the kind
that you put on over your regular clothes. I looked like a circus clown."

"I bet the hard hat was hot."

"Yeah, I was smokin'," she snorted.

"So, you've got skills."

"Many, many skills, Joshua; some you don't yet know about. But don't
worry because all will be revealed in time."

"You should hire someone to do the floors."

"But I can do it, and for a fraction of the price."

"You don't want to invest that much time and energy into a home we're
going to be leaving. Wait until we move into a new place, then you
can use your many talents to make it ours."

Somewhere in the middle of thinking about that, Donna fell asleep.

As it turned out, selling a property while under the protection of the
US Treasury Department was a tricky and complicated process. A
protectee couldn't simply hire people to complete the improvements
necessary to list their house on the market. Workers had to be vetted
and approved before being allowed to set foot on the property, and
even then the presence of a pair of agents to oversee the work would
be required.

Luckily, as the White House frequently required improvements and
maintenance of its own, the secret service had a list of pre-vetted
companies and employees. By early October the kitchen and bathroom
had been retiled. The bedroom and living room received a new coat of
paint and a cleaning service had been contracted to give the condo a
spring cleaning unlike any it had ever seen before. When all was said
and done Josh's old bachelor pad sparkled like new and smelled of
fresh paint.

Poor Chester weathered it all from the confines of his kennel,
watching and whining as the workmen turned his domain upside down and
inside out. At the end of each day, Donna promised Chester that if
all went well he would soon have a backyard all his own in which to
play. Chester seemed more mollified by a scratch on his rump than by
her assurances.

Two weeks before the election Josh and Donna spent a Sunday afternoon
making the final preparations to show the condo. Their real estate
agent suggested removing their more personal items and packing them
away, not only for safety but because the house was more likely to
sell quickly if it appeared that no one actually lived there.

So they moved about the living room and bedroom, packing away Donna's
extensive collection of paperbacks, their DVD collection, framed
photographs that didn't qualify as artwork, and anything else that
made the space feel cluttered. All of which would temporarily reside
in their 5 foot by 4 foot storage allotment in the building's
basement, which was already crammed to the gills with who-knew-what.

"It seems like I should feel sadder," Josh mused. A silver framed
photograph of him and Donna, taken at Santos' Inauguration disappeared
beneath two layers of the Washington Post classifieds.

"Why?" Donna inquired. She was packing the mess of books both she
and Josh collected over the years, leaving behind only the leather
bound law library left to him by his father. They would make a nice
display.

"I've lived in this place since I worked for Hoynes. I've lived in
this place longer than any other home in my entire life."

"Did it ever feel like a home? Really, I mean? You hardly ever went
home during the Bartlet years, Josh. It was like you were trying to
prove something. How many campaigns have you spent interminable
months crossing the country and living out of hotel rooms? It's no
wonder you're not sad. I swear, when I was in dire need of a raise,
you spent more time at my apartment than here. The most time I can
remember you spending here was after...."

"It's okay," he said softly. "You can say it. We've been through so
much together; we shouldn't have to spend the rest of our lives
walking on eggshells when it comes to certain subjects."

"Certain subjects?" she challenged.

"Yeah, you know...."

"You can't even say it."

"Rosslyn."

"That's not the one I was talking about."

"I get it," he said. "I'm just saying that you don't have to avoid
the subject of Rosslyn for my sake."

"And you don't have to avoid talking about Gaza for mine."

Josh flinched and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. He
sighed in defeat. "Point taken."

"We have more problems with each other's trauma than with our own."

"It's what happens when you love someone more than your own life."
The words came out of Josh's mouth with a ghostly quality, as if he
hadn't meant to say them out loud, but some possession had taken over
his body. It was the kind of sentiment he often felt but rarely
expressed.

Donna's heart leapt and her eyes misted over, but rather than throw
herself into his arms she chose to reward his gift with a quiet
acknowledgement. "Yeah," she whispered, "that's what it is." She
closed the cardboard flaps on the full box of books and taped them
shut. Donna had a thought, but wasn't sure she should share it with
him. It tumbled around in her mind before she found her mouth opening
against the will of her own mind. "Maybe you'd be willing to talk
about something else," she suggested.

"Like what?"

"Like...why you've lived in this place for fifteen years and it never
felt like home to you."

Josh shrugged. "You know this business, Donna. It's not exactly
conducive to getting comfortable."

"Setting down roots is a choice. It's something you have to want,
Josh. It's something most people want."

"What are you so delicately trying to work your way around to?"

"You watched the only home you'd ever known burn down and take your
sister with it."

"Yeah."

"I think...maybe...you've avoided setting down roots since then. Like if
you don't stay too long, don't get too attached, that you'll somehow
stay safe."

"Until now," he pointed out, carefully avoiding her eyes.

"Until now," she agreed. "I want that for us. I want a real home
where our children can play in the yard with their friends; a place
with a sense of permanence."

"Permanence...is fleeting. It's never as permanent as you hope it's
going to be."

"Safety is the illusion, Josh, not permanence. No one knows better
than we do that danger comes out of nowhere while you're surrounded by
armed guards or riding in an armored vehicle. Safety is an illusion
that you've been chasing for years. The trick is to make the most out
of life."

"I'm trying, Donna. I want you to know that. I am trying."

"I know you are, and I love you for it, because I know you're doing it
for me."

"So, Lucy, will there be a charge for this session with my
psychiatrist?" Josh's eyes twinkled and his mouth quirked in a half
smile.

Donna mirrored his smile with one of her own. "For you, Charlie
Brown, I'll be charging fifty cents."

"What? Used to be a nickel."

"Cost of inflation," she shrugged. "It's okay to talk about her, you
know."

Taken off guard by her decree he let the silence stretch out between
them for a moment. "I know," he said, at last.

"I'd like to hear about her. To know her the way you did. It still
feels like a part of yourself that you hold back from me sometimes."

"I don't mean to. I'm just so accustomed to not talking about her. I
used to want to talk about her with Mom, but I was afraid of causing
her pain, so I could never bring myself to do it. It's never easy,
you know? To talk about a life cut so tragically short. I can never
just think about what was...it always comes with the should-have-beens.
That's what makes it difficult. I wonder where she would have gone
to college or what she would have done with her life. I wonder if she
would have married young, or established a career first. I wonder
whether she would have taken the quiet road or if she would've blazed
trails. She was special, Donna."

"Tell me."

"Okay."

He took her hand and pulled her down to the couch, wrapping her in his
embrace. For the rest of the afternoon, until long after sunset, he
told Donna stories that made her laugh. Made them both laugh. Donna
glimpsed what Josh must have been like as a little boy and how much he
adored and hero-worshipped his older sister.

For Josh, it felt good to talk about Joanie, to remember the way she
was, even though he knew that most of his memories must be tainted by
the long years and the inconsistency of childhood recollections. He
recalled only that he had loved her so much; from his earliest
memories she had been his guiding star. Logically, however, he
thought there must have been times when they argued and angered each
other with hurtful words as all siblings did from time to time.

But all he could remember now was the perfection of their short years
together. And somehow, as he smiled wistfully at his wife's laughter,
he didn't think Joanie would mind. He shared his most vivid memories
of his sister, and as he did he felt a weight being lifted. As if
spending all these years hoarding his memories of her had served not
to keep them safe, but to burden him with heaviness of loss. He'd
done his sister a great disservice by keeping her all to himself.

As the evening wore on and he continued to tell tales one after
another over a light dinner, his recollections shifted to the more
recent memories of his late father. It occurred to him that in some
way this was part of the circle of life; remembering those that passed
on before him. Josh stared into his wife's cornflower blue eyes and
time slowed to a hazy blur all around them.

Something clicked into place then, like tumblers on a combination
lock. He wanted to leave behind someone who would someday laugh at
memories of him when he was gone. Someone who would hold his memory
dear, like an ancient photograph or a family heirloom. For the first
time, he actually wanted that.

When the moment roared back to life, Josh knew that when the time came
he would be ready.

TBC



See disclaimers in part 1


AN: I did the research on home costs and what you can get for your
money in the Washington DC area, and what a condo comparable to Josh's
in the Georgetown might go for these days. I just want you to know
that I'm not pulling numbers out of thin air. I also chose a house
from a real estate website to use as inspiration. I wanted to link to
it, so you guys could see it, but it has since been sold and has been
taken from the site.





****

The Tell 16/21
By Lacy


When things happened fast, they happened fast. In the days leading up
to the election, their real estate agent showed the condo while Josh
and Donna were trapped at the White House analyzing polling results
and making the necessary adjustments to election strategy.

The morning after Election Day their real estate agent called and
announced that there had been two very lucrative offers. Donna could
hear the woman's grin over the phone.

"Let the bidding war begin," Donna announced as she swept into Josh's
office. Her husband's head was leaning back against the couch, his
eyes closed. Exhaustion wafted off of him in waves. He'd spent the
night before not in front of a television screen, but in the Sit Room.
When California had been called in favor of President Santos, putting
him well into the necessary 270 electoral votes, a message had to be
sent down to the bowels of the building.

"Huh? What?" He lifted his head, showing her his bleary eyes. She
sat down next to him on the sofa, her thigh brushing his.

"We have an offer," she informed him, setting the faxes from the agent
in front of him. "Two, actually."

"So soon? We haven't even started looking yet. Aren't we supposed to
find a house after an exhaustive search and then wait and wait and
wait for someone to finally make an offer, and only then after we've
lowered the asking price a half dozen times? Isn't that how it's
supposed to go?"

"That's the worst case scenario, yes."

"But that's not what this is," he gathered. Josh perched his reading
glasses on his nose and attempted to decipher the blurred handwriting
on the fax.

"This is the best case scenario. Somebody up there really likes us."
Something about his reading glasses got her all hot and bothered.
He's had them for two years and it occurred to her that she's never
made love to him with his glasses on.

"A bidding war, huh?"

"Can you believe it?"

"These people are probably going to want to move in when the clear
winner emerges."

"Probably."

"Donna...we don't have a place to move into yet."

"Nope."

"You don't see this as a problem?"

"You worry too much."

"Only because you don't worry enough."

"I have everything under control, Josh."

"Famous last words."

"When are you going to learn that I know what I'm doing?"

"Did you get your real estate license while I wasn't looking?"

"Relax," Donna implored. "I've got it narrowed down to three areas;
all matching within an acceptable margin of error the prerequisites we
decided upon. All within the necessary commuting zone. There are
twelve homes in these areas that are possibles; I'm paring them down
to probables as we speak. By the weekend I should have three or four
houses for us to tour. Happy now?"

"Three or four? That doesn't seem like much."

"Well, with the advent of virtual tours online, we don't have to waste
our valuable time visiting the lemons and the money pits. The
internet is a beautiful thing, Josh. You should join the party."

"I joined the party once. I got yelled at a lot."

"Yes, despite the change in your marital status and the degeneration
of your eyesight the Lyman `Hos are still alive and kicking." She
placed her hand on his leg just above his knee and let it drift slowly
upwards. "Just remember who your number one fan is."

"I never do," he gulped. "And please tell me you're not surfing the
`net on the government's dime."

Donna flashed him a glare that clearly said she wouldn't dignify that
with a response. "So, where's the president?" She briefly considered
the possibilities inherent with the president on personal time and
office doors with NSA locks.

"He's decamped to the residence with your boss." Poor, tired Josh
seemed oblivious to the rather lascivious thoughts that were running
through her head.

"And the thing that kept you in the Sit Room last night?"

"Resolved."

"And didn't the president suggest that, barring a national crisis,
senior staffers could take the rest of the day to decompress?" The
West Wing had emptied out sometime around seven o'clock that morning;
most going home to sleep or to sleep it off.

"That really doesn't include me."

"It really does, Josh. You've been tunnel-visioned again for the last
two weeks and rightfully so; but you need to relax, too. We're here
for another four years so you can take a breath."

"There's a lot to do and only some of it has anything to do with
ramping up to the next four years. Some of it has to do with
finishing the first four. I'm still getting reports from precinct
captains on the final tally."

"Two million, four hundred seventy two thousand, three hundred sixty
one," she crowed.

"Give or take a couple hundred thousand."

"The switchboard will catch your calls. Let's grab sandwiches from
the Mess and have a picnic by the reflecting pool."

"It's thirty-eight degrees outside."

"Okay, let's get a ridiculously overpriced celebratory meal at
Citronelle."

"Too many Congressmen trying to curry favor," he groused.

"Oooookay," she geared up to try again, "how about we get a fruit
salad which you can eat it off my naked body at home?"

Josh opened his mouth to reject the offer until it actually filtered
through his ears to his brain. He grinned broadly. "I always did
prefer dining in."

True to her word, by Friday afternoon Donna had narrowed down their
home search to three properties. Josh took it all in stride, allowing
her to schedule appointments to tour the designated houses, all of
which were already vacated and ready for move-in.

The second house had been empty for more than two years, which set off
alarm bells in Josh's head. The realtor explained that the owner had
lived in the house since it was built in 1946 and had died there as
well. His children had been unwilling to deal with the processes
involved in selling a house until recently, but were now ready to be
rid of it -- which seemed to explain why it priced to move.

Josh liked the simple gray brick fa‡ade of the Cape Cod style home
with the shiny black door and shutters on the front windows. A
red-brick pathway, covered in a light dusting of snow, led up the
front yard to a four-step stoop with wrought iron rails that curved
outward. Josh liked sitting out on the stoop of his current home on
warm Sunday evenings, nursing a beer as dusk gave way to night.

"It's pretty," Donna whispered, squeezing his hand as they strolled up
the walk. The real estate agent chattered her sales pitch, but Josh
managed to tune her out. He'd had years of practice suppressing the
voices he didn't want to hear.

"I like the stoop," he responded. Agent Brent Ladner stood on the
stoop awaiting them as they approached; he had already advanced the
house and judged it safe to enter.

"Of course all the standard upgrades have been performed; new ovens
and range." The realtor prattled on. "The hardwood in the foyer and
the living room has been recently replaced, but the house still has
all of its original moldings and fixtures. If you're looking for
something more updated you might consider this a fixer-upper. It's
certainly priced as such."

Built on top of a hill, the foyer dipped down three steps into the
great room. Its open concept and hardwood floors made the first floor
feel cavernous, especially without furniture. The realtor gushed over
the honed Jerusalem limestone in various shades of gray that covered
the kitchen floor. Donna was easily infected by the realtor's enthusiasm.

As they toured the lower level, they both schooled their features to
keep their own counsel in front the woman whose commission depended on
the outcome. Josh shot her a look he could hardly hide when they were
led to the study/library with wall to wall built-in bookshelves and
workspaces. A glance out the back door revealed a spacious yard in
which Chester could bury his rawhide chew-bones to his heart's content.

Four bedrooms, three and a half baths, two car garage, a deck in the
backyard, separate dining room and breakfast nook, as well as a
mudroom with washer and dryer hookups. Proceeds from the settled
bidding war that erupted over their condo would pay for a large
percentage of the house, making their monthly note easily affordable.
Costs for furnishing and decorating would have to come out of the
money his father left him, but that didn't bother him. It was a hefty
sum that had just been sitting there for more than a decade.

As they toured the master suite downstairs the realtor explained that
the house had originally been built with a salon, but the previous
owner had sacrificed it to create a more generous master suite. Donna
was, of course, dutifully impressed by the soaking tub and separate
shower. Josh liked that they wouldn't have to stand over a shared
sink as he shaved while she brushed her teeth.

The realtor led them upstairs and through the three bedrooms and two
bathrooms. One bedroom had its own bathroom, while the others were en
suite. "I've saved the best for last," the realtor crowed as she led
them into the back bedroom one level above the master suite. "I
daresay even your shadow will be excited." She pressed a spot on the
wall and a hidden door swung outward to reveal a descending staircase.

"Whoa," Josh reacted. He cast a glance to Agent Brent Ladner who
quirked an eyebrow in response and shook his head.

As the realtor moved to lead them down the stairs, Ladner piped up.
"Step back, ma'am," he demanded politely, preceding them into the
stairwell. He located a light switch and fluorescents flickered to life.

"My, he is certainly on the job, isn't he?" the realtor chuckled.

"He's not a big fan of secret passages," Josh deadpanned.

"The basement contains a safe room, or bomb shelter, if you will" the
realtor purred. "You can reach it from this room or from the master
bedroom through a similarly hidden wall panel. You'll see the door
halfway down. There is, of course, outdoor basement access in the
backyard."

"A safe room?" Donna inquired.

"Yes, the previous owner was a bit of an eccentric...a tad on the
paranoid side, or so his children said. Years ago he bulldozed a
small section of the backyard, dropped in a pre-built safe room and
then connected it to basement. He did all the work himself, but I'm
told it's up to code."

"All clear, Mr. Lyman," Ladner called up the stairs.

Just as the woman promised, they passed a second entrance on the way
down. The stairwell was brightly lit as they descended and the stairs
were solidly built and carpeted to reveal a minimum of sound as they
descended. The basement door was plain and unassuming and opened in a
space longer than it was a wide, with polished concrete floors. Agent
Ladner used his maglite to locate another light switch. Donna's heels
clicked on the concrete as she circled around to get a full view of
the room.

"Of course a little carpeting could make this an inviting space; a
playroom for children, if you like," the realtor suggested, easily.

The realtor grunted a bit as she shoved open the heavy, vault-like
door to reveal the inside of the safe room. It was no larger than a
prison cell and there was just room enough for a few cots and shelves
for provisions. The walls were painted white, but Donna could feel
the cold of metal as she ran her hand along the surface.

"As you can see, there's room enough for several sleeping spaces, as
well as supplies and provisions to last for a few days, if necessary,"
she rattled.

"And a handy place to keep all those gold doubloons we've been
stockpiling," Josh jested. Donna chuckled but slapped on the arm, and
hoped that a story about the White House Chief of Staff stockpiling
gold doubloons wasn't about to hit the tabloids.

"A filtration system leading to the outside provides a regular flow of
air when turned on. It's built to withstand radiation fallout,
tornados, and is completely fireproof, provided that the door is secured."

Donna and Josh exchanged a meaningful glance when she mentioned the
safe room being fireproof. She knew that Josh made his choice then
and that he wouldn't even try to haggle down the price just for the
hell of it.

"It's all fairly simple, but it will do the job. I'm told that, once
locked from the inside, it's impenetrable from the outside by any
standard means." When she finished her pitch, Donna thanked her and
asked for some time alone with her husband (and their shadow).

"Sold," Josh said, as soon as the realtor was out of ear shot.

"You read my mind." Donna's mother-of-all grins spread across her face.

"We have a winner," Agent Ladner piped up.

"Is that so?" Josh chuckled.

"Of course, the Treasury Department has no say in what house you can
or can't buy, but there are bad risks and there are good risks, Mr.
Lyman. This one's a good risk. The first house you looked at, on a
street corner - too many exposed windows in a direct line of fire to
hiding places, or passing vehicles. The place was a fishbowl, sir."

"No wonder I didn't like it." Josh stuffed his hands in the pocket of
his jeans and began checking out the small details of the panic room.

"This room alone, with its second floor access, makes the house a
better risk. The fact that it's at the end of a cul-de-sac on a two
acre lot, makes it more easily defendable. We can place motion
sensors and flood lights in the back, as well as sign to warn off
unwanted visitors. And we can do it all with a minimum of
inconvenience to your neighbors." Ladner went into more detail of
security measures that would be taken, all of which would be billed to
Josh.

"I can't believe we found a house in one day," Josh said.

"I'm the master," Donna winked.

"Why do I have the feeling I'm going to be forced to repeat that for
the next few days."

"Because you will." Donna wrapped her arms around Josh's neck and
kissed him chastely on the lips. "Besides, *you* found a house in one
day after *I*spent weeks narrowing down the possibilities."

"I stand corrected." Josh grabbed her hand and tugged her up the
stairs. "Let's go make an offer."

The whole debacle was so painless it hardly deserved to be called a
debacle. However, the fact that he had to spend two weekends in a row
and every early night in between packing all his earthly belongings
(and more than a few of Donna's), meant that it had been given that
designation by default. When it came time to actually bite the
bullet, he and Donna took two days off to oversee the move to their
new residence. On their first night in their new home they toasted
life's changes with champagne and made love on the living room rug in
front of a roaring fire.

Donna spent three weeks decorating the house to her semi-satisfaction
and another week planning the combination housewarming/New Years party
and on December 29 they had all their friends over to `ooh' and `ahh'
over their acquisition. Nobody could throw the perfect party like
Donna Moss. Her hard won sense of style and acquired attention to
protocol and etiquette made the party a social event of the season; an
invitation being one of the most coveted of the year.

Two hours after the arrival of the first distinguished guests Raleigh
Padgett Seaborn waddled into the kitchen looking for Donna, who was
checking the presentation on the hors d'oeuvre trays. "You have to
tell me where you got the wreath on your door. It's breathtaking."

"There you are!" Donna exclaimed, welcoming her friend with a warm
embrace after wiping off her hands. Stepping back she surveyed
Raleigh. "It's only been five days, but I swear you've gotten bigger
since the last time I saw you."

"Thanks a lot!" Raleigh mock pouted. "Just you wait until it's your
turn; I'm going to be merciless."

"Bring it on."

"Sorry we're so late, but my doctor's appointment went long, and when
you're carrying forty extra pounds it takes twice as long to do things
like shower and get dressed and, you know, find your car keys."
Raleigh's cheeks blushed a bright pink and her eyes flicked away.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Is that asparagus?" Raleigh evaded. She snapped a spear of asparagus
wrapped in pancetta from a tray and immediately transferred it to her
mouth.

"You and Sam were late to my party because you were having sex," Donna
needled. Raleigh choked on her bite of asparagus and blushed even
deeper. "Let me guess...he took one look at you in your blood-red,
crushed velvet maternity dress and just had to have you right then and
there, manners be damned." Donna gleefully enjoyed Raleigh's
embarrassment. "That Sam...he's an animal."

"It was after we came back from the doctor's appointment. We were
both very emotional and, well, one thing led to another and the next
thing I knew we were running late."

"What happened at the doctor's appointment?" Donna's attitude changed
from one of mocking to heartfelt interest.

"I should tell you after the mocking?" Raleigh huffed and turned away,
popping the last bit of asparagus in her mouth, thereby making it rude
to speak.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, her expression properly contrite. "I
sometimes forget that you're more...modest than my other girlfriends.
You know...when you work in the White House you often live vicariously
through your friends. It makes for very open conversations about
relationships and sex. So...what did the doctor say?"

"We finally found out the sex of the baby." Raleigh's eyes teared up
and Donna could see that her mind wandered back to that moment in the
doctor's office when she was getting her sonogram. "We were ready to
accept that it was going to be a surprise, and then the baby turned
just the right way for the doctor to be sure."

"And?" Donna urged, excitedly, hoping to bring Raleigh out of her
reverie.

"Oh, Donna, it's a girl." Raleigh's voice was tight with emotion and
her voice wavered beneath the weight of it.

"It's a girl?"

"It's a girl." The mother-to-be nodded her head and rubbed her belly.
"It's like...I know it seems strange what with all the changes my body
is going through, but...today it seemed real for the first time. Like,
knowing that this little person has a gender, that she's a `she' makes
it all real. I know I'm not making sense."

"You're making perfect sense." Donna couldn't help but be caught up
in Raleigh's emotions. She felt her own throat tighten and her eyes
sting with unshed tears.

"And I think it became real for Sam today, too. He doesn't have the
benefit of being able to feel her move every minute of the day, so
finding out that she's a `she' made it real for him also. We were
there together, Donna; in that moment where we realized that this was
truly happening. It was amazing...I've never felt anything like that."

"I can't think of a better reason to be late for a party." Donna
smiled, and gently ran a finger beneath her eyes, hoping that she
wouldn't smear her eye makeup.

"I've been here all of five minutes and I'm already crying. That must
be a new record."

"I hear the hormones can do that to you."

Raleigh easily read the expression of longing on Donna's unguarded
face. "It'll be your turn next. Wait and see." She took Donna's
hand in hers and squeezed it, transferring her best wishes and hopeful
energies into her friend.

"I know," Donna nodded, not sure if she believed it herself.

"After all, you got the house. Phase four, right? Now it's just a
matter of pinning your husband down and getting him to knock you up."

Donna snorted at Raleigh's terminology. "Yeah, right. I can take him
to the water, Raleigh, but I can only ask him to drink it."

"Maybe you should just push him in and let him see how it feels."

"I should tie him to the bedpost until he impregnates me?" Donna scoffed.

"Everyone in DC knows that Josh can't deny you anything."

"Is that the rumor? Clearly no one's heard about my many attempts to
get a raise out of him in the early years."

"Those were the early years. It's different now, isn't it?"

"Yes," Donna agreed. "It's different now. Why don't you and I go
track down our husbands? Twenty bucks says we find them hiding out in
the study.

"I'll take that action," Raleigh giggled. "My money's on the garage."
Then the goofy smile slipped from Raleigh's face and she grabbed
Donna's arm, threading her own through it. "Don't worry, Donna. I
have a feeling 2011 is going to shape up into a hell of a year. I
think you're going to get everything you've wanted."

"You think so?"

"Happy New Year, Donna."

"Happy New Year, Raleigh."

Together, they strolled out of the kitchen arm in arm in search of
their other halves.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1



****

The Tell 17/21
By Lacy


Three days before President Santos' second Inauguration Josh lay in
bed next to a blonde that wasn't his wife as he held a phone to his ear.

"Chester's in bed with you, isn't he?"

"He's lonely without you here," Josh replied.

"Oh. He's the one that's lonely."

"That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So...when are you wheels up?"

"We're hoping if the weather holds we can be out of here by tomorrow
at three."

"That's only a few hours." He turned his head to check the clock,
which read four minutes after midnight. Out the bedroom window,
bright floodlights, placed as a security measure, lit up the fat
snowflakes as they fell from the sky. It was snowing heavily and he
didn't want her flying in this weather.

"Tomorrow afternoon, Josh."

"Oh," he sighed. Horribly conflicted, he wanted his wife to come home
to him, but not if it meant flying in unsafe conditions. It coming
down out there and if it kept going at this rate, the roads would be
closing in a few hours.

"Poor baby," she cooed.

"It's a big damn house, Donna," he whined. "And it's even bigger
without you in it. If it wasn't for my trusty bodyguard upstairs, I'd
be a little creeped out right now."

"Well, tomorrow night I will be there to keep you safe from all the
boogeymen."

"Now you're just being cruel."

"I'm sorry our plans had to change."

"Liar."

"What do you want me to do, Josh? Vera Wang offered us an advance
showing of her spring line. Girls have to do what girls have to do."

"An argument that somehow never works to my advantage when I use it."

"That's because boys are stupid. Besides, you know that if the Mets
asked you to shag a couple of flies I wouldn't begrudge you."

"That's not even a fair comparison. No way is Vera Wang the Mets."

"She is to me. Take it like a man, Josh and I'll make it worth your
while."

"Well, that's something, I guess."

"You guess?"

"That's definitely something," he quickly corrected. "Have a good
time and try not to spend too much money."

"Thank you. You should get some sleep."

"I'll get right on that."

"It's been a long day for me too. I love you."

"I love you, too. Safe flight tomorrow," he wished her.

"Night."

"Night."

Josh replaced the phone on its base and rolled onto he back, reaching
over to stroke Chester's soft fur. Sometime around 11 p.m. Chester
started to wind down and he was now softly snoring away on Donna's
side of the bed. Josh smiled. Chester slept like a human with his
body stretched out and his head on the pillow. The dog's soft
breathing would help to lull Josh to sleep just as Donna's usually did.

Josh flicked off the light and pulled the sheets to his chest. It was
a bitter cold January night, but the house's new heating system kept
the indoor climate at a comfortable level. Despite his physical
comfort and the weariness of a productive day at work, Josh was unable
to doze off. Over the years, out of necessity, he'd honed the ability
to fall asleep in an instant, whenever the opportunity presented
itself. It was a gift for which he was frequently grateful.

Tonight, however, he seemed incapable of reaching the wonderful state
where the darkness behind his eyelids twirled and swirled in an ever
spiraling pathway to sleep. Maybe it was the complete lack of noise.
Years of living in DC had made him accustomed to the sounds of the
city. Ambulance sirens at 3 a.m. or the droning beep-beep of delivery
trucks at 5. Cars that honked just for the hell of it, and the rowdy
voices of twenty-somethings passing on the sidewalk. None of the
sounds he took for granted, and even occasionally cursed, were present
in their new house in the suburbs. Josh had no doubt that if it
weren't three below zero out there he'd be able to hear crickets
chirping. Crickets!

He never really understood the concept of a deafening silence until now.

Not even Agent Marks, headquartered upstairs in the front bedroom, no
doubt glued to his security monitors watching the live feed from the
house at every possible angle, ever made any sound. The man was like
a cat burglar, Josh thought.

Every sound seemed to echo, every creak and groan filled the house
when she wasn't there. When they were together this was never a
problem; these thoughts never entered his mind. But now that they had
this house, this home that she had so carefully made for them, all he
could think was that there was a deepening hole inside of him and the
silence surrounding him just made it yawn all the more.

Josh shook off those thoughts and focused his energies instead on the
wily Senator Washburn and how the good Senator's support for the
president's Energy Initiative was suddenly wavering. The initiative
was slated for the new session - the first thing out of the gate - but
Washburn, whose previous efforts had been instrumental in crafting the
bill, had now decided to add a few pounds of useless pork to the menu.

He'd sent Sam to deal with Washburn this evening, and when he last
checked in there had been no sense of a forthcoming conclusion. But
that wasn't what bothered Josh the most; It wasn't Washburn's
defection or Sam's lack of success thus far that chipped away at
Josh's conscience.

Josh had done something today he'd never thought he'd do. He'd
delegated the task to Sam, not because he couldn't do it, or because
he didn't have the time, but simply because he no longer had the
desire. Once upon time, meetings with potential turncoats like
Washburn were his bread and butter, they were where he lived. Josh
used to breathe for the days when he could back an arrogant Senator
into a corner and then tear him apart. He used to live for the kill
and dance in its victory.

But a glorious exercise in political maneuvering a decade ago seemed
now to be an exercise in futility, more often than not. Not that
there weren't victories to be had - there were-but they no longer
carried with them that sense of history in the making. He'd say that
he'd become a cynic, but that wasn't it. He had worried about that
himself on the ride home tonight, but when he heard Donna's voice on
the phone he realized the truth.

No longer was his job the source from which all good things flowed.
Donna was the source, and his job was just a job. A highly stressful,
incredibly specialized job, but a job nonetheless. And he knew that
was the way it was meant to be - it was the healthy way to be.

Jarring him from his musings, the phone on the bedside table jolted to
life, its ring sounding desperate and plaintive. Instinctively, Josh
sensed that call would not be good news. Out of habit he reached for
the lamp, turning the switch while simultaneously picking the phone up
from its base. Harsher than he was expecting, the room burst with
light and after his eyes focused he was able to read that the the
Caller ID on the readout announced 'Seaborn'.

"Hey," Josh answered. No reason to stand on formality this late at
night, especially with Sam.

"Josh?"

The voice Josh expected to hear was not the one the filtered through
the line. Muffled and soft, she sounded worried and maybe a little
strained.

For a second, Josh's heart stopped. "Raleigh? Has something happened
to Sam?"

"I was hoping you'd know. I can't find him, Josh. His cell phone
rolls straight to voicemail and no one's picking up at the office."

"He went to a meeting with Washburn at seven," Josh told her. "I
spoke to him around ten and they were going to grab a late dinner.
I'm sure he's just late."

"He's not supposed to turn his cell phone off," she insisted.

"These things happen. The battery probably went dead. I don't think
there's anything to be worried about."

"That's what you think," her soft voice muttered over the phone.
Then, suddenly, her breathing became heavier. "Is Donna there?"

"She's still in New York."

"I thought she was coming back today." Raleigh's voice took on a wet,
teary quality. Josh was floored. He didn't think anyone could
possibly be more upset than he over Donna's delayed return.
Apparently, he had misjudged.

"Their plans changed," he informed her in his most reassuring voice.
"They'll be back tomorrow evening."

"Okay," Raleigh cried. Josh could hear her weeping over the phone and
realized there had to be more than just Raleigh being upset over Sam
being unreachable and Donna being delayed. But, then again, she was
pregnant and emotional, and there was no telling what could set her
off. Josh hesitated to ask, because he wasn't sure he wanted to know
the answer, but he did it anyway.

"Raleigh, what's wrong?"

"My water broke and my contractions are eight minutes apart. I'm in
labor and I can't reach my husband."

Josh's whole world stopped spinning and everything came to a
screeching halt long enough for him to draw a steadying breath. He
threw off the sheets and the comforter; tucking the phone between his
ear and his shoulder he grabbed a pair of jeans hanging over a chair
in the corner of the room.

"Okay," Josh announced in his best Leo McGarry voice, "that's the
first thing you say when I answer the phone. I say `hey' and you say
`Josh, I'm in labor and I need help.' You got that?"

"I'll remember that next time."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he swore. "Just...hang in there. Don't
let anything...you know...come out."

"I don't have a whole lot of control over that."

"I'll be right there."

He disconnected the call without a goodbye, a terribly rude habit of
his, and tossed the phone on the bed.

Chester, sensing his human's resolve, if not his purpose, woke with a
start and jumped from the bed, his tail wagging and eyes shining in
hopes that he could take part in the excitement. His human was
dressing and sometimes that meant going for an R-I-D-E. Occasionally
his human would take him to the car and allow him to sit next to the
window. Then the window would magically disappear and Chester could
stick his whole head out allowing the wind to rush into his nose and
ears, spreading a blissful coolness throughout his body. Good times.
Perhaps that was why his human was putting clothes on; perhaps they
were going for an R-I-D-E.

Josh shooed Chester back into the bed. Chester huffed disappointedly
and his tail dropped as he jumped back on the bed. Josh dug for a tee
shirt in the middle drawer of the dresser. From the top drawer he
rummaged for a clean pair of socks. On top of the dresser sat his
cell phone and his keys with the panic button that he was to keep with
him at all times. Briefly, he considered pressing the button, but
knew this would send Agent Marks into the room with his gun drawn
and Josh didn't want a piece of that. Josh stuffed the keys and his
phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

He mustered his best bellow and yelled for Agent Adam Marks. The
shoes he needed were in the mudroom so he rushed past the stairs on
his way there, and found Agent Marks at the second floor landing,
looking down at him with confusion etched on his face. One of the
rooms upstairs had been converted into a temporary base for the agent
on duty during the graveyard shift.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Lyman?" Agent Marks inquired in a rush
as he took the stairs two at a time before landing next to Josh.

"I have to get to Sam's house," he explained. "His wife went into
labor and Sam is out of pocket. She needs help."

"We can't allow that, sir. Travel conditions are in the yellow zone."

Josh was taken aback. In the four years he'd had a detail he'd never
been prevented from doing anything he really needed to do. Sure, his
agents could win awards for being sticks in the mud, but when it came
down to necessary actions, Josh was usually free to do anything he
wanted as long as he was within touching distance of his close
protection detail.

"Oh, okay," Josh replied. "How about we do it this way? You can
drive me to pick up Raleigh and take her to the hospital, or I can
take my wife's car and you can stay here and explain to Ron
Butterfield how you lost your protectee. Which scenario works better
for you?" Josh slammed his feet, one at a time, into his Nikes,
punctuating his speech and letting Agent Marks know that he would
brook no restraint to his purpose.

Agent Marks seemed to consider the myriad outcomes of both scenarios
and came to the conclusion that the first option had the highest
likelihood of turning out well, both for him and for his charge.
"You'll need your coat," he replied. Marks grabbed Josh's parka off a
hook by the door and tossed it to him.

"Good call," Josh said.

Marks spoke into the communication device on his wrist warning the
agent outside that they were coming. The SUV and agent sat outside
with its engine idling to keep both the vehicle and its occupant warm
in the subzero temperatures. Large flakes of snow were falling around
them as Josh and Agent Marks rushed to the waiting vehicle and
clambered into the backseat.

"We need to get to Sam Seaborn's house right now." Josh shouted to
the driver, who was already placing the truck into gear and moving
away from the curb.

"Mr. Lyman," Agent Marks spoke calmly, in an effort to soothe his
clearly crazed charge. "I have to inform Agent Butterfield of our
intentions."

"Great. See if he can track down Sam. Raleigh couldn't get a hold of
him." Josh told Marks that Sam had been with Senator Washburn for a
late meeting. The agent was already on the CB contacting headquarters.

Fifteen minutes in a car slowed down by ice and snow were enough for
Josh's initial instinctual panic to subside, only to be replaced by
the kind of panic that comes when one is given the opportunity to
think about the situation too much. He wondered what the hell he was
thinking. He wondered why he hadn't told her to call 911 and that he
would meet her at the hospital. He cringed as he thought about how,
without warning, the responsibility for his best friend's wife and
their unborn child had been thrust upon him.

He handled life and death situations every day, albeit from the safety
of the Sit Room, or from his office. Josh told himself that he could
handle this. He repeated that assurance like a mantra over and over
inside his head. And even if he couldn't handle this, if he wasn't
prepared, he had the wherewithal to fake it long enough to keep her
from panicking.

He wasn't close friends with Raleigh the way he had been with only a
few women in his life. He didn't love her with way he loved CJ. He
liked her and respected her, the way a man was supposed to respect his
best friend's wife. Unlike the women that came before her like Lisa
and Mallory, Josh knew that Raleigh was Sam's Donna. He'd often seen
Sam's eyes softened when he spoke of his wife, and a blind man could
see the way they sparked when they were together.

What if he couldn't handle this? What if something happened and he
didn't know what to do? Or, worse yet, what if it was all his fault?
How would he face Sam if something happened to Raleigh or the baby
while they were in his care?

Josh convinced himself that there was nothing he could do about that
now and that it was best not to think too much about it. He'd taken
responsibility without weighing the choices (as if there had been any)
and now he had to see it through - no matter the outcome.

All he could do was behave the way he'd want Sam to behave if their
situations were reversed.

Josh punched the speed dial for a third time and listened as Sam's
phone rang once before rolling over to voicemail. "Damn it," he
cursed, staring down at his phone. A quick call to Donna's hotel
yielded similar results, the receptionist suggesting that the phone in
her room had been left off the hook. He didn't know why he was
calling her anyway. It wasn't as if she could do anything from New
York City, except maybe keep him from falling apart.

He really needed to not fall apart right now. He really needed a
voice of strength and wisdom. He really needed to know that someone
had his back on this. Another idea occurred to him while he
restlessly scrolled through his digital phonebook, as though seeking
an answer to a question he didn't even understand. He scrolled to
another name and hit send.

In contrast to Sam's phone, this one rang twice before Josh heard a
gruff but alert voice come on the line. "What can I do for you at one
o'clock in the morning?" the voice asked without so much as a greeting.

"Charlie," Josh sighed. "Raleigh went into labor and she can't reach
Sam," he explained for what felt like the umpteenth time tonight.
"I'm on my way there now to take her to the hospital."

"Priceless," Charlie chuckled without a hint of worry in his voice.
Josh envied Charlie's ability to stay cool under fire. "Donna still
in New York?"

"Yeah. I need you to track down Sam and get him there. Call
Washburn's office and see if he's still there. Call Washburn's cell
phone because Sam's is rolling straight to his voicemail and he's not
answering his pages. Call every damn Congressional aide if you have
to; just get him there, okay?"

"Will do, boss," Charlie replied. "And then I'll grab my video camera
and meet you at the hospital. Donna's going to want some footage of
you unspooling."

"Traitor," Josh laughed, uneasy but happy for the brief detour into
familiar territory.

"I'm no traitor, Josh. I know exactly where my loyalties lie."

"Enough chat. Get to work. Oh, and if you go out be safe. It's a
mess out here."

"Understood." Charlie rang off without a goodbye and Josh sighed with
relief. If there was one thing he knew right now, it's that Charlie
accepted assignments the way bulldogs accept a bone. Charlie would go
to the Hill and drag Sam out of there in person if need be.

Just as he finished with Charlie, the SUV pulled up in front of the
Seaborn's building and Marks bounded out of the vehicle and up the
front stoop with Josh only a hairsbreadth behind him, fresh powder
crunching beneath their feet. Luckily Sam and Raleigh's two bedroom
apartment was on the first floor so Josh wouldn't have to help
maneuver a pregnant lady in labor down a flight of stairs. This night
wanted no extra challenges; it was going to be hard enough for all of
them.

Agent Marks pounded on the door to the Seaborn's apartment with
perhaps a little more force than was strictly necessary.

"She's in labor, Adam, she's not deaf," Josh said. He turned the knob
on the door and found it unlocked.

"I go in first, Mr. Lyman." Marks swung open the door and walked
inside, scoping the corners for an ambush that would probably never come.

"Raleigh?" Josh called from just outside the door.

"I'm back here." He heard a muffled voice answer. Raleigh appeared
just then from the hallway, with a small suitcase in hand. She wore
flannel pajamas, cold weather boots, and a long coat. Her face was
scrubbed free of makeup and her curly hair was set free to run wild.
Josh thought she looked young and strong all at the same time.

"You okay?"

"I think I've pulled myself together. My contractions are five
minutes apart now, though. So we'd better hurry." She left the agent
to scope an empty apartment and met Josh at the door. Flouting all
protocol Josh entered the apartment and met her halfway across the
room, taking the case from her hand. "Could you find Sam?" she asked,
hopefully.

"No, but I put Charlie on it."

"Oh, good," she sighed.

"You okay to walk?"

"I should be for another three minutes," she joked. "Let's hope."

"How about you grab a hold of me anyway -- just in case. There's snow
on the stoop so we should be careful."

Raleigh nodded and linked her arm with his as they headed for the
door. Josh turned back to call for Agent Marks, who gave up searching
the apartment they were just going to abandon anyway. As Josh helped
her down the four stairs to the sidewalk Raleigh looked down at him
with eyes filled with relief and trust. He wondered what he could
possibly have done to engender those feelings within her. Part of him
wanted to tell her that if she knew what was really going on inside
his head at that moment her eyes would fill with terror and anxiety.

When they were all bundled into the SUV and the driver was pulling
away from curb she grabbed his hand and turned her bright green eyes
up to his. "Thank you for coming, Josh."

"Don't mention it," he replied. "It's what friends do for each other."

A wide grin split her face just before another contraction broadsided
her. Raleigh's happy expression melted into one of excruciating pain
and her heavy groan filled the cab of the SUV. She neither realized
nor cared that she transferred that pain directly down her arm and
into Josh's fingers, which she gripped with crushing force.

Josh, on the other hand, was pretty sure that Sam's petite wife just
broke his fingers.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1




****

The Tell 18/21
By Lacy


Every man has his breaking point.

Eventually, in every man's life, a time or an event presents itself
when a man must take a good look deep inside and face the fact that he
can't handle everything that comes his way. He has to make peace with
the fact that he'll inevitably reach the point where he'll be forced
to bend beneath the pressure.

For Josh, that moment had arrived right about the time when Raleigh's
OB nurse pulled him into an empty room, handed him a pair of scrubs
and a mask and told him to get changed behind the curtain.

"Oh, no!" He shook his head in denial, both to himself and to the
stocky nurse with eyes that bore into him like pins in a bug
collection. "I didn't sign up for this. I'm not her husband, I'm
just her husband's best friend," he explained. "It's really not my
place to be in there."

"She's going to need someone before this is all over, and you're all
she's got."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, nobody deserves that. Don't you get it?
I can't stand the sight of blood. I'm a weak, weak man. I'll
probably faint if there's even a hint of blood. Will there be blood?"

"I can assure you that there will definitely be blood. Try not to get
any on you."

"Then you don't want me in there."

"And yet, it's not about what I want. You can change in here." A
ringing sound heralded the closing of the curtain she'd just yanked.

"I can't do this," he said to the empty room, gripping the scrubs
tightly to his chest with one hand, while in the other he held an
icepack. His fingers had been bruised but not broken by Raleigh's
torment-driven grip. "I can't do this," he said again, this time more
firmly. "This is too much," he repeated as he changed his clothes.
He rang back the curtain wearing a pair of baby blue scrubs and spoke
with a sense of confidence he'd rarely felt before. "Sam," he said to
no one, "when this is over I'm going to kill you myself."

After checking in at the Admit Desk, Raleigh had been taken to her
pre-registered private room, which is where Josh found her after
changing clothes. When he slinked into the room, hoping he wouldn't
find her in a state of undress, she looked hopefully up at him from
her spot on the bed.

"Sam?" she asked.

Josh shook his head. "I'm all you've got for now. And for that I'm
*truly* sorry. At any rate, I've talked to Charlie...he knows where to
reach us."

Raleigh lay on her side on the bed with her knees tucked up as far as
they could go. At some point, while he was on the phone or changing
into the offered scrubs, Raleigh had been attached to some pretty
impressive machinery. Josh wasn't sure what any of it was for but it
beeped and spat out a ticker tape type print out. Josh watched as she
massaged her belly around some sort of belt that had sensors attached
to it. She drew a shallow breath and whispered; "I'm four weeks early."

"I know," Josh replied.

"The doctor's worried that her lungs might not be fully developed."

"It's going to be fine."

"How do you know that?"

"It's all worked out so far, hasn't it?"

Raleigh snorted and shook her head as a tear trickled down her face.
"Sam's not here."

Josh grabbed a chair, dragged it to her bedside, and sank into it.
"Hey," he began, injecting as much light into his voice as he could
muster, "I got to your house in record time. We made it safely to the
hospital on the snowiest day of the year. Roads are closing out
there. You're surrounded by doctors and nurses and the best medical
advances in the world. These are all good things," he said,
indicating the mysterious machinery with his bruised left hand.
"Because believe me, the last thing you want is me delivering your
baby in the backseat of an SUV stuck in a snowdrift."

"I guess that would be worse."

"You better believe it."

Raleigh's blotchy face twisted in pain and the muscles in her jaw
strained as she clenched her teeth together to hold in a scream.
"God, here comes another one."

"Bad one?"

"They're all bad."

"Hold my hand." Josh offered up the one good hand he had left. His
right hand.

She shook her head frantically against the pillow; her eyes were shut
tight and her cheeks went pale as her lips pressed together. A deep,
animal-like groan reverberated from her chest.

"Take my hand!" he ordered. Josh grabbed her wrist to lift her hand
and slipped his hand under hers. Despite her obvious reluctance,
Raleigh's hand, as if acting of its own volition, scrambled to grip his.

Unlike the last time, he was ready for her. Josh tightened his own
grip to offset the pressure she placed on his bones. His hand would
be tired after a few more contractions, but it wouldn't be damaged.
"I think you're supposed to keep breathing," Josh said, after watching
her face turn an alarming shade of red. "Breathe Raleigh."

He remembered then his hours of post-op physical therapy after
Rosslyn. Breathing was painful and challenging, but necessary to
survive the more emergent pain the doctors left behind after cutting
into his chest. One thing no one tells you about the post-surgical
recovery is that the muscles tend to occasionally react as if
possessed; jerking like puppets on strings, without control.

His surgeon told him afterwards that it was the body's natural
reaction to both the invasion of surgery and the residual adrenaline
that flooded his system and kept him alive in the moments after he was
shot. He would awaken at night when his pectoral muscles would jerk,
sending screaming tendrils of pain throughout his body. The only
thing that kept him sane, that kept him from dissolving into a weeping
mess, was breathing.

Measuring each breath; counting its width and depth and then slowly
releasing it to draw in more.

"Breathe through the pain," he instructed softly.

"Arrrrghh," she growled. "What the hell would you know about it?"

"I've never given birth," he told her, "but I've been shot in the
chest and that was no picnic. I'd be willing to bet that you'll be up
and around again much faster than I was. I don't know about all this
Lamaze stuff, but I know it helps to breathe."

Raleigh sucked in a draught of air, as much as her lungs would allow
with a baby pressing down on them. Quickly, guided by instinct, she
found a rhythm to concentrate on, drawing in deep breaths and huffing
them out in an even and measure pace.

"Better?"

She nodded and squeezed his hand a little tighter. Her contraction
eased of a bit later and her grip on his hand slackened. The tautness
of her face relaxed and she seemed to melt in to the mattress.
Realistically, Josh knew they'd only been alone in the room for a few
moments, but it seemed like hours since he'd arrived.

"I should get someone to check on you."

"Stay," she pleaded. "The nurse will be back in a few minutes."

"I was hoping the doctor would bring something for the pain."

"We decided to go natural," she shook her head.

"I meant for me," he deadpanned. "This would a lot less painful if I
couldn't feel anything from the neck down."

"I can have them show you a big needle. That should put you right out."

"Needles don't scare me," he lied.

"That's not what Donna says."

"You shouldn't listen to her," Josh told her. He leaned in as if to
impart a secret and winked. "She's delusional." Raleigh laughed and
Josh sighed with relief. If he could help her keep her sense of humor
then he'd call it a win. "Where is everyone anyway?"

"Prepping the OR in case I need a C-section. Putting the NICU on
notice. People work around here, Josh. Also, apparently it's a full
house tonight. The nurse told me there are three times when it gets
crazy around here; on a full moon, during a snowstorm, and whenever
DC's flooded with tourists. Look at me, I scored a hat trick."

"Was it a full moon?"

"Yep," she nodded. "And the Inauguration is in four days."

"Three days, now."

"Why would you need a C-section?"

"If the baby's heart rate drops they'll have to take her fast."

"Oh," he answered.

"Yeah."

"That's not going to happen," he assured her.

"The baby doesn't work for you."

"I'm pretty clear on that, I'm just saying that maybe you've had all
the challenges you need for one night."

"I always thought you were more of a fatalist."

"Really? Why's that?"

"I don't know. It just seems like you'd have to be to do the things
you do and know the things you know."

"Maybe that's why I need Donna to balance me."

"Are you saying that because you know I'm going to tell her you said
that?"

"I think in a few hours you'll have more important things to worry
about than telling my wife what I said in here tonight."

"I'm sorry about earlier," she confessed abruptly.

"About what?"

"When I said that you didn't know anything about pain."

"Oh, that. It's not a problem."

"Sam told me, but I forgot."

"I used to forget Donna's name when I was in pain," he chuckled. "I'd
just yell, `Hey, blonde girl!'"

"I don't believe you."

"Pain has a tendency to turn us into people we might not otherwise be."

"I hope you keep that in mind when I call you filthy names."

"What did I do?" he shrieked. "I didn't have anything to do with
this." He waved at her stomach.

"Yeah, but you're a man. You'll do."

Her next contraction hit as if awaiting its cue, and Josh could almost
see Raleigh curl in on herself. He aided her as best as he could,
reminding her to breathe and gripping her hand for all it was worth
until her contraction eased off and the tension melted from her face.

Raleigh's obstetrician dropped by for a check and estimated there were
a few more hours left to her labor, assuming everything stayed within
acceptable safety margins. Raleigh's fetal monitor produced a rapid
tempo that the nurse associated to the baby's heartbeat. Josh thought
it sounded a little fast, but the nurse explained that it was perfect.

As her labor wore on and she wearied before his eyes, he helped her in
other ways. Josh fed her ice chips and wiped her heated face with a
cool compress as needed; all while quietly urging her on and cracking
jokes when her spirit began to flag. He was exhausted, but he
couldn't say so, or even allow himself to feel it. His experience was
nowhere near as draining as hers. He hardly noticed as the doctor and
nurses moved in and out of the room, making preparations for the
baby's arrival. Except for when he stepped out of the room while
Raleigh was being examined. Josh took advantage of those times by
checking in with Charlie.

By 4:30 a.m., Sam was still nowhere to be found.

"I hate to even bring this up," Charlie's lowered voice spoke through
the phone, "but should I start calling hospitals?"

"This is crazy," Josh said, digging his fingers into his tired eyes.
"It's just not like him to disappear without a word."

"Unless he's got his tunnel vision on," Charlie suggested. "I haven't
seen him get *that* focused since he had to write that speech after
the pipe bombs at Kennison State."

A painfully brilliant thought burst in Josh's head, blinding him for a
millisecond. "The speech! That's it, Charlie!"

"Uh...I'm not following you...which, come to think of it, is not unusual,"
Charlie added.

"Call Otto's cell," Josh instructed. "Otto's been fretting all week
about the D section of the address."

"Okay, but...fretting?"

"Just do it. I'd bet cold hard cash they're together somewhere
writing the gazillionth draft of the thing."

"I'm on it," Charlie promised before the line went dead.

Josh hung up the phone and thanked the duty nurse behind the desk for
her patience. She acknowledged his gratitude with a nod. Josh headed
back to room to tell Raleigh that he may have a bead on Sam; if not
his location, then at least who he was with.

Over the last four years Otto had grown into quite a speech writer,
but he still admired Sam and respected his opinion, much as Sam had
once looked up to Toby. So, though it wasn't strictly Sam's job in
the Santos administration, Otto liked for him to give the more
important speeches the once over. Without fail, Josh's deputy would
kindly set aside a block of time to brainstorm with Otto, especially
if something specific wasn't working. In this case, Otto had been
stressing over the section on national security policy for the last
three weeks.

Upon his return, Josh found Raleigh in the throes of yet another
contraction and moved quickly to offer what little support he could.

"They're coming faster and faster now," he pointed out. Based on the
glare she leveled at him, his observation was clearly unnecessary.

"And lasting...longer and longer," she informed him.

"We're getting down to it now," Josh realized aloud.

"He's not...going to...make it." Raleigh gripped his hand harder and
whimpered before beginning to cry. Josh was unable to discern if she
wept because of the pain, or because of Sam's absence. He flinched at
the sight of her tears, wishing with all of his might that there were
more he could do for her.

"I think I may have gotten a bead on Sam." Josh gambled that telling
her wasn't the wrong thing to do; he didn't like the idea of getting
her hopes up. "I think he might be hold up with Otto working on the
address.

"He's been obsessing about the speech for weeks," Raleigh said.

"Let's hope Otto has his cell phone on."

Her next contraction came on the heels of her last one, and medical
personnel began to slowly filter in to the room, as though sensing
that the baby's imminent arrival. Over the next hour, Josh observed,
more fascinated than he cared to admit, as a warming bed was brought
in and prepared for the baby. Raleigh was moved into birthing
position, while Josh did his best look directly at her face, despite
his own sudden and inexplicable fascination. He turned his body to
face away from her legs, holding her hand through her contractions and
wiping beads of sweat from her forehead when it became too much.

Just when the doctor had pronounced that Raleigh's cervix was fully
dilated, and she would soon be ready to push, the door swung open and
Sam spilled in to the room, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

"Did I miss it?" Sam gushed.

Despite her ongoing pain, a wide grin split Raleigh's face. "You're
here," she jubilated, and immediately began weeping as though she'd
been holding in that release all along.

Josh jumped aside as Sam approached and grabbed her face, kissing her
on the mouth. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm so sorry. The battery on
my cell went out and I didn't know until Charlie called Otto's."

"Your hands are cold," Raleigh breathed. Her face with red from the
exertion of managing the pain and Sam's cold hands must have felt
heavenly against the heat of her skin.

"Did you run all the way here?" Josh facetiously inquired. Sam's face
was flushed and his breathing ragged as though he'd just completed a
marathon. His hair was drenched, most likely from melting snow.

"Yeah," he heaved. "The roads are unsafe to drive on and Otto's
apartment is only about a mile from here.

"You ran a mile in the snow on the coldest night of the year for me?"
Raleigh wept.

"I was afraid I'd already missed it."

At that point the doctor decided to make himself known. Hospital
personnel had stood quietly as the drama unfolded before them. "Okay,
Raleigh, it's almost time to start pushing." He turned to the stocky,
controlling nurse from earlier and said, "Carla, can you get Dad
suitably attired please?"

Carla waved to Sam and grabbed his arm dragging him from his place
beside his wife and toward the exit. Reluctantly, Sam went with her,
calling to Raleigh that he would be right back.

"He made it," she smiled at Josh.

"Yeah," Josh agreed, taking her hand once more. "Now you can call him
all the filthy names you've been calling me for no good reason, other
than that I have a penis."

"Damn penises," she growled and rolled her head back. Even Josh could
tell she wasn't all there; she was saying things she didn't mean
because of the pain. "I can't be too mad, Josh. After all, he ran a
mile through the snow on the coldest night of the year."

"After what I've been through with you all night...I'm saying I think he
got off easy. You should at least call him a few choice expletives.
Make him sweat it out."

"I might just do that," she groaned, grasping his hand tighter. "For
the sake of appearances."

"There you go," Josh grinned.

Sam spilled back in to the room, decked out in scrubs identical to Josh's.

Josh turned his head, glancing at Sam and then turned back to Raleigh.
"Well," he whispered, looking softly into her pain-filled eyes, "I
guess this is it. It's been an eye opening experience. Thank you for
sharing it with me." He dropped a kiss on her forehead before
releasing her hand and stepping back, allowing Sam to take the spot
he'd only been book-marking.

"You don't have to go," Raleigh ground out. "You've come this far."

For a moment he considered her offer, wishing he could see it through
but knowing he wasn't meant to. This was a moment for Sam and Raleigh
as they a brought a new life to the world.

"I'll be right outside," he replied. Josh caught Sam's eyes and found
them filled with a mixture of excitement and gratitude and maybe a
touch of fear.

Josh backed out of the room slowly and as pulled the door behind him,
allowing it stay open just a crack, he heard the sounds of the room
coming to life. The doctor's resonant voice filled the room and
trickled all the way into the hallway, reaching Josh's straining ears.

"Okay, Mom," the doctor instructed. "Bear down and give me a good,
hard push."

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1



****

The Tell 19/21
By Lacy


Generally speaking, the best of days did not begin with a handful of
Ibuprofen and a glass of water; especially when one awoke in the
Egyptian cotton splendor of the Waldorf Astoria. Donna leaned on both
hands against the marble counter of the bathroom. She dropped her
head as far as it could go, feeling the blissful stretch of her neck
muscles and waiting patiently for them to loosen. Unfortunately, her
actions did nothing to ease the pounding in her head.

She felt hung-over, though she'd had nothing to drink the night
before. Her jaw ached, which could only mean that she'd been grinding
her teeth in her sleep last night. A sleep that had been hollow and
anything but restful.

Donna Moss needed a vacation and a week on their beach in Hawaii would
be just what the doctor ordered. When she landed in DC this afternoon
she would broach the subject with Josh, and tell him that she needed a
break. Now was the time to do it, after all, while Sam was still
available to stand in Josh's stead, before the baby arrived.

She covered her face with her hands and dug her fingers into the sides
of the bridge of her nose, hoping to loosen the tension there. With
her eyes closed, she replayed their last vacation and wished longingly
for the warmth of the Hawaiian sun and Josh's hand on her thigh as
they basked in the healing serenity of their intimacy.

The Ibuprofen began to do its work and Donna, at last, felt well
enough to start her day. She dressed efficiently, carefully applying
her makeup in hopes that it would cover the dark circles under her
eyes and her generally haggard appearance.

When she arrived at the first lady's suite, she found Helen seated at
a table, popping cut pieces of fruit into her mouth and then wiping
her hand on a napkin in turn.

"Breakfast?" Helen offered.

Donna looked at the refreshing fruit and the thought of food made her
stomach roll. "No, thank you, ma'am."

"It's the most important meal of the day, and you look like you could
use the energy."

So much for her careful application of cover-up, Donna thought.
"Maybe a little later."

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Three hours at the House of Wang picking a dress from her
as-yet-unrevealed spring line, which she will then let me purchase at
a deep discount?" Donna wondered. "If my arms were amputated in a
freak accident I would still be up for that."

"But her dresses wouldn't fit nearly as well," Helen contradicted.

"Touch‚," Donna smiled with a nod. "Are you looking for a reason to
get out of this?"

"No," Helen insisted, but Donna could see her obfuscation.

"You miss Noelle."

"Like crazy."

"Just think of the grin on her face when she sees you again."

Once Noelle had been weaned and eating hideous things like strained
carrots, Helen and the president decided that she shouldn't travel on
the shorter trips. Helen wanted her daughter to have the stability
offered from remaining at home. So, though Helen would be eternally
resistant to the idea, a nanny had been vetted and hired to pick up
the slack.

"I hate the idea of someone else raising my kids."

"She's not," Donna assured her. "You never went away from the weekend
when Peter and Miranda were babies?"

"Of course we did, but we usually left them with my parents."

"So think of the nanny as a babysitter that won't spoil your kids like
your mother would."

"That's a good point you have there, Donna. What would I do without you?"

"Let's hope you never have to find out."

"I'll drink to that." Helen held a champagne glass juice and tilted
in Donna's direction before taking a sip.

"Is that a mimosa?"

"Orange juice," Helen shook her head. "Do you want a glass?"

"Sure."

Helen poured a glass of juice as Donna flipped open her book to go
over their schedule. "Our appointment is in forty-five minutes.
We'll have three hours to peruse the collection. This time is for
choosing, trying on, and for alterations. Then we head to McGuire
where we are wheels up at three o'clock. We should leave soon if we
want to make it to Madison Avenue in time."

"I'm ready when you are."

"Great, I'll just call the porter for our luggage and get us checked
out of our rooms." She opened to door to the suite and spoke to the
imposing agent on sentry duty. "Tank, could you have the car brought
around?"

"Yes, Ms. Moss."

"Thank you."

As usual, Donna's schedule went without a hitch and the first lady and
her entourage arrived at Vera Wang flagship Madison Avenue salon just
moments before their appointment. They greeted in the foyer by an
emissary and taken to a plush and well appointed back room. Over the
next hour, a series of breathtaking gowns were modeled for them.
Donna finally felt well enough to snack on the hors d'oeuvres offered
on silver trays.

The designer herself was present and if it hadn't been for the
headache pounding in the front of her skull, Donna might have
embarrassed herself by gushing over the woman.

It only seemed right that Donna would allow Helen to make her choice
first and then choose her gown from the options that were left. It
all turned out fine though, because Helen chose a gold tulle and
chiffon full length gown with a high neck, leaving the v-neck, long
sleeved gown in delicious amethyst crepe satin for Donna. When the
model stepped in front of her wearing the dress, Donna silently prayed
that the first lady wouldn't choose the amethyst.

After their fittings they thanked Ms. Wang and piled back in to the
limo for the ninety minute drive to McGuire Air Force Base.

By 3:05 p.m. they were wheels up and headed back to DC, just according
to plan. Donna leaned her head back and tilted her seat after they
reached their cruising altitude. Helen had told her there was no need
to come back to the office on her account, so she was free to go home
once they landed. Donna considered the pile of stuff on her desk and
knew she should get back to work. But she was so tired; her mind kept
drifting back to thoughts of a bubble bath, a glass of wine, and her
flannel pajamas. Donna thought maybe she was coming down with
something if she was considering wearing the flannel pjs that Josh hated.

Donna managed to doze during the short trip, but awoke feeling
slightly disoriented and off-balance. After deplaning, she rushed
ahead to the waiting SUV to impart instructions to the agents, but in
her rush her left leg slipped on the tarmac and she sprawled
gracelessly on the ground. She skinned her knee and destroyed a
perfectly good pair of pantyhose in the process. Someone was
immediately by her side to help her from the ground and her face
blushed from embarrassment.

"Are you hurt?"

Donna looked up to find Josh's worried brown eyes bearing into hers.
"Just my pride," she responded, attempting a smile. "The perfect
ending to my day."

"That was quite the header you took there. New legs?"

"Ha ha, funny man. What are you doing here?" With Josh's help, Donna
went about picking of the contents of her briefcase that had gone
sprawling along with her.

"Meeting my wife's flight is a cause for concern?"

"What did you do this time?" He looked as tired as she felt.

"You'll be happy to know, not a thing."

"The last time you met me at the Andrews I came home to find a dog in
our apartment."

"How do you feel about puppies?"

"Josh!"

"Just kidding. Seriously, I think you're bleeding." He grabbed a
travel pack of Kleenex from the stuff on the ground and started
pulling out tissue to staunch the flow of blood.

"It's fine," she insisted, waving off his efforts. "I'll worry about
it when we get home. I just want to get home," she sighed. "I think
I'm coming down with something."

"That's too bad. I was going to take you straight to the hospital."

"It's just a skinned knee, Joshua," she snapped. "All I need is
hydrogen peroxide and a band-aid. All of which I can find at home.
Not everything is an emergency."

Josh recoiled from her tone. "Okay."

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't mean to be short with you. I'm
just not feeling well. I've had a headache since I woke up this
morning, and it's bordered on being a migraine all day. I just want
to go home and take a long hot bath and sleep it off. Take me home,
Josh."

"Sure," he agreed, taking her by the arm and leading her off the noisy
tarmac towards his waiting town car. "But Raleigh's going to be
disappointed that you don't want to see Chloe."

"Who's Chloe?" Donna asked absentmindedly as she slipped her arm
through the loop of her briefcase and settled the bag on her shoulder.

"The baby she had this morning."

"What?" her feet stopped walking and she stared at her husband is
though he'd just a grown a second head.

"Raleigh went into labor this morning."

"And you didn't call me?" she shrieked, the pain in her skull
ratcheting up a notch.

"I was a little busy?"

"Doing what?"

"Standing in for Sam, who could not be reached."

"Let me get this straight...Raleigh went into labor and you had to stand
in for Sam?"

"For most of it, yeah. I was something else, I have to say."

"You actually watched a baby being born? And you stayed conscious the
whole time?" she asked, incredulously.

"Well, no."

"You fainted, didn't you?"

"I did not faint!" he defended. "I was the picture of stalwart
manliness."

"You have photographic proof of this?"

"Alas, no," he grinned, dimples on display. "I have only the word of
Raleigh Padgett Seaborn." When they reached the car he waited for her
to slip inside before following. The inside was warm and toasty
compared to the blustery cold of the early January evening outside.

"Was she on drugs?" Donna interrogated.

"She had a natural childbirth and I offer my bruised fingers as
evidence." He held up the proof and Donna knew his hands well enough
to see they were slightly swollen.

"They are bruised," she confirmed, taking them in her hands and
turning them over for examination. "This is all true. It's not one
of those stories you make up to feed your insatiable ego?"

"I do not - it's all true. Sam showed up just in the nick of time, so
I had to leave the room. She invited me to stay, but I didn't want to
be a third wheel. Anyway," he said in a rush, "Chloe was born at 5:35
this morning, screaming her head off, which was a good thing because
the doctor was worried that her lungs might be in trouble."

"You've seen this child?"

"I have."

"And I don't suppose there's any chance she was a figment of your
fevered imagination."

"While I admit that my imagination is indeed occasionally fevered,
this is not one of those times. Chloe Seaborn is real, and she's tiny
and she looks just like Sam, with a full head of black hair."

Donna could feel her throat tightening and tears filling her eyes.
Josh's news was the straw that broke the camel's back, bringing forth
emotions she'd been holding at bay since the morning. "Damn it," she
cursed as she began to cry.

"Donna?"

"I can't go see them," she sniffled.

"Why not?"

"If I'm coming down with something I can't knowingly inflict that on a
newborn."

"She'll be safe behind the glass. It is a hospital, after all. There
are sick people running around all over the place."

"I don't want to see her behind the window," Donna lamented. "I want
to hold her, which I can't do if I'm getting sick."

Josh pulled her into his warm embrace and rubbed her back. "Tell you
what," he began. "I'll take you home and you can call Raleigh and
explain; I'm sure she'll understand. You can have your bath and a
sleeping pill and I'll even give you a massage. You can get a full
eight hours of sleep. Maybe stave this thing off before it gets any
worse."

"Okay," she wiped her eyes with one hand. "I'm so tired, Josh."

"Yeah?"

"I was hoping to talk to you about taking a week off and going to
Hawaii while Sam was still available, but I guess that's shot all to
hell now."

"Well, maybe we can do a three day weekend somewhere. Maybe go see Mom."

"We can't ask Sam to be acting Chief of Staff. He has other
priorities now."

"He might if I trade him a three day weekend for a three day weekend.
We'll see." He reached up behind her cascade of hair, finding the
base of her neck and began to massage.

It felt so good Donna nearly collapsed the top half of her body into
Josh's lap. Were it not for the timpani in her skull she could fall
asleep right there. She moaned her approval as his worked at the
tense muscles along her spinal column and at the base of her skull.

"I'll take care of you," he vowed.

"I know," she answered.

Neither one them said anything else for a long time.

An hour later she was soaking in a tub of water as hot as she could
stand it, fighting off sleep. To be on the safe side, Donna had taken
her temperature before climbing in the tub and found it too be normal.
Just stress, she told herself with a huge sense of relief.

When they first arrived, Donna had taken a few minutes to call Raleigh
and explain that she was feeling unwell and was worried that she might
pass it on to the baby. Raleigh had been quick to reassure her that
Chloe wasn't going anywhere and she would be waiting to meet her
godmother when Donna was confident that she was no longer ill.

"We've started a collection of godchildren," Josh had said.

"I've noticed," she shot back.

He'd only smiled in that maddeningly cryptic way he had and
disappeared from the room to return a moment later with a glass of
water and a sleeping pill which she gratefully accepted. He was
bursting to talk about his delivery room experience, but wouldn't
because he somehow sensed that his excitement would overwhelm her in
her stressed out state. Sometime in the last few years Josh had
become sensitive to her needs.

Most of them anyway.

Just as the water grew tepid and her eyelids too heavy to ignore, Josh
poked his head in the bathroom and announced that it was time to get
out of the tub.

"Preferably before I have to perform CPR," he said.

"I'm awake." Her own ears recognized the unconvincingly slow drawl to
her words. Her tongue felt as though it were mired in molasses and in
her brain complete thoughts were slow in coming.

Josh held a towel for her and when she struggled to find her balance,
he reached out a hand to steady her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, wrapping the towel around her. She removed the
clip holding her hair and when she was dry, donned her flannels
pajamas. Predictably, Josh offered a sarcastic comment about the
ratty old pajamas that had been in her pajama drawer for more than a
decade.

"This must mean the magic is gone," he said.

"Not gone," she slurred, "just on hiatus. Even magic needs a chance
to recharge." She climbed under the covers and rolled over onto her
stomach slipping her arms beneath the pillow that cradled her head.

"As long as it's not gone too long," he said.

"Didn't you promise me a massage?"

"When I made that promise I thought you would be naked." He straddled
her backside and slid his hands from her lumbar region to her
shoulders and began to massage the tight muscles of her upper back.

"Not tonight, dear," she mumbled. "I have a headache."

"Never, ever say those words again." She groaned has his fingers
found a particularly troublesome knot and dug in. "Breathe into it,"
he reminded her.

In spite of the pain of loosening muscles, Donna could feel herself
drifting off to sleep, but before the darkness overwhelmed her she
heard Josh telling her he had to go back to the office for a few
hours. "Mmm hmm," she acknowledged.

She sensed when his hands ceased their work and left her body, but she
never heard him leave.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1



****

The Tell 20/21
By Lacy

Donna awoke the next morning at 5 a.m. feeling groggy, but
headache-free. Josh snored lightly beside her, and she wondered that
she hadn't heard him come home last night, or in the wee hours of the
morning, as was more likely the case. He didn't mention why his
presence was required at the office, but she assumed it had to do with
the upcoming festivities.

A hot shower had her feeling like a whole new woman. When she emerged
from the bathroom after blow-drying her hair, she found Josh peering
up at her with one sleepy eye open and the other determinedly closed.

"Feel better?" he yawned. His voice, scratchy from sleep, cracked a
little.

"Much," she answered. "How late did you get in last night? I was so
dead to the world I didn't hear you come in." She spun around in
place, looking for her suitcase. She could have sworn she brought it
in the room last night, but she'd been so out of it, she'd decided to
leave for the morning.

"About two," he groused, rolling over onto his stomach. "The
Inaugural address is set. What are you looking for?"

"My suitcase," she mused. "Did I leave it downstairs?"

"I unpacked it," he answered. "After you fell asleep." Josh threw
off the covers and swung his legs off the bed, planting his feet on
the floor.

"You did?"

"I did, though I can't promise I put everything in the right place the
way you like it. You can be a little obsessive about these things."

"Just because you're a slob doesn't make me obsessively neat."

"No, the fact that you're obsessively neat makes you obsessively neat.
Dirty clothes are in the wash." He wiped his hand over his face and
opened his eyes impossibly wide as though that would force them to
awaken.

"Why don't you sleep for another hour?" she suggested.

"Too late," he answered. "I'm up and I'm hungry. Chester will need
out by now." He slipped into the bathroom, still steamy from her
shower, and she heard the water kick on.

Her stomach grumbled and she remembered that she'd had only a handful
of calories yesterday and decided that a big breakfast would be just
the thing. Downstairs, she let Chester out of his kennel and gave him
the love for a few minutes, rubbing behind his ears and under his
muzzle. When he tired of that, he made a break for the back door
where he stared single-mindedly up at the door knob while his tail
swung to and fro. His paws danced back and forth on the floor,
shifting in anticipation.

"Do you need to go outside?" she asked, just to see his reaction. He
spared her a quick glance before setting his sights back on the knob.
Donna laughed. Chester was such a character. "Okay." She unlocked
the door and swung it open quickly. Chester slithered out the door
into the cold, seemingly understanding that his business would need to
be quick, lest his paws and other parts of him freeze. Donna shut the
door as quickly as she open it, a shiver seeping into her spine and
traveling all the way to the top of her skull.

"Coffee," she said to no one in particular. Luckily, the coffee maker
was on a timer, so it was fresh and hot and, more importantly, already
made when she pulled two coffee mugs down from the cabinet. Donna had
just enough time to prepare her cup and take a fortifying sip before
she heard the desperate clickity-click of Chester's claws on the glass
pane on the back door.

Using the door as a shield against the bitter cold, she stepped back
and allowed the large dog to squeeze through the crack, and closed the
door quickly behind him. "You're such a good boy," she praised him.
He smiled up at her with his golden retriever grin and a twinkle in
his brown eyes, just before he shook off the snowflakes clinging to
his blonde coat. His shake started at his head and worked its way
down his body until it ended at the tip of his tail; the droplets of
melted snow sprayed across her lavender terrycloth bathrobe.

"It's a good thing I'm not dressed yet, handsome, or you'd be in big
trouble." His smile seemed to widen, clearly unafraid of her empty
threats. He followed her into the kitchen and did very little to stay
out of her way as she went about preparing the breakfast her stomach
was yearning.

By the time Josh emerged from the bedroom the eggs were scrambled, a
tomato was sliced, turkey bacon was nuked, and the English muffins
were toasted. As she fixed their plates she looked over at him,
surprised to find him dressed in sweats.

"You're going into the office like that?"

"Work out," he answered, reaching into the fridge and withdrawing a
carton of orange juice. He grabbed two glasses from a cabinet and
poured a healthy serving in both of them.

"God, I forgot it's Wednesday," she said. "My days are all mixed up now."

"That's what happens when you're living out of a suitcase," he
shrugged with good humor.

"I was gone for three days," she retorted.

"And yet it felt like more." He took a swig of juice and then kissed
her on the lips, before taking his plate to the table in the breakfast
nook.

She enviously acknowledged his work out gear and sighed, "I can't
remember the last time I worked out. I need to get back on the
Stairmaster," she mused. "Maybe then I wouldn't feel so stressed out
all the time."

"Hey," he said, dipping into his scrambled eggs with a fork, "I know a
guy with a gym. Very private -- very close to where you work."

"Working out with the president," she pretended to consider. "I think
I'll pass. I'll just come home and spend an hour on the Stairmaster
tonight."

"Your call."

"So, rumor has it that you got up to some pretty odd behavior while I
was away; something about you heroically stepping up to help a friend
in need."

"How is such behavior odd for me?" he quipped. "I am a hero of the
people," he continued with a smug quirk of his lips. "I fight for the
downtrodden, I sacrifice for noble causes such as gun control and
social security reform."

"Do the people know of your greatness, Oh Mighty One?"

"True heroes are often underappreciated in their time."

"You just love to sing your own praises, don't you?"

"I like to watch you dream up your comebacks."

"Eat your breakfast, Secret Man."

"It wasn't a big deal," he blurted, his head ducking as he ate his
breakfast. "She called, terrified and in pain. I didn't do anything
anyone else wouldn't have done."

"Was that...?"

"What?"

"Was that a hint of humility in your voice?"

"Donna," he half sighed, half laughed.

"I'm calling the Post right now. The world must be told of this; it
may be a portent of things to come."

"Okay, you've had your fun."

"I have," she chortled. "I really have."

"So, you okay getting to work this morning?" He polished off the food
on his plate and got up to take it to the kitchen. Three years of
behavioral modification had taught him to put it directly in the
dishwasher.

"I'll be fine. I thought, if you weren't too busy, we could take a
long lunch and go see Raleigh and the baby before they're discharged
from the hospital."

"Sounds good. Call my office and check with Erin." Josh's hands gave
her shoulders a quick massage as she sat in her chair at the breakfast
table, then he leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Then I thought
tonight, if you're up for it, I could show you just how much I missed
you when you were gone."

"Oh, I think I'll be up for it," she purred in response. She turned
her head and brushed her lips against his for a tender kiss.

"Good, because I really missed you. And tomorrow is going to be a
long night of smiling and useless conversation."

"But at least there'll be dancing."

"Save a dance for me."

"I always do."

With a final kiss on the lips he was gone, calling one last `see you
later' as he left the house.

An hour later she was receiving her call sheet from Elaine and telling
her to call Erin and set up a time to go to the hospital. The pile of
work on her desk was neatly arranged, but still overwhelming. She
steeled herself against the day to come and sat down to get to work.

Donna was so intent on her task that she didn't notice the hours
passing until a knock on her door interrupted her work session. The
clock on her mantle told her it was just past noon.

"Come in," she called.

"You have a delivery," Elaine practically sang as she stepped into the
office carrying a big white box.

"It's my gown." Donna couldn't suppress a schoolgirl clap of
giddiness as Elaine set the box on her conference table.

"The Vera Wang?" Elaine inquired.

"The very same," Donna nodded. "They had to make some alterations on
it. Just a little nip and tuck here and there."

"But no letting out of seams," Elaine assumed with a tinge of
disappointment in her voice. "Never in my life would I have been able
to fit into a dress by Vera Wang."

Donna drew the gown from the box, eliciting a gasp from her assistant.
She shook out the dress to keep it from holding the wrinkles attained
from spending too much time in a box. A dress like this, she thought,
should not be confined; it should be allowed to breathe.

"Would you like me to hang that up for you in your closet?"

"No point in taking it home, I suppose," Donna realized. "I'll only
have to bring it back here tomorrow. Besides, I wouldn't want Josh to
get a glimpse of it too soon."

"You like to keep him guessing."

"It's hardly a challenge," she confirmed, "but it amuses me." Donna
handed the dress to Elaine, who promptly arranged it around a hanger
and placed it in the closet.

"Oh," Elaine intoned as she checked her watch. "You and Josh have
your lunch in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks." Donna called as Elaine slipped out of her office.

She finished a few small things, made notes in the margins of a
request for Mrs. Santos' time before wrapping it up and heading to the
West Wing. Surprisingly, Josh was ready for her when Erin waved her
in to the office. He picked up his coat and clumsily attempted to don
it. Donna grabbed the coat's collar and held it still as he slid
first one arm into a sleeve and then the other.

The car was waiting for them at the Ellipse, a Marine holding the door
for them as she climbed in first, followed by Josh. A short hop and
the driver was pulling up to the North entrance at Georgetown
University Medical Center's primary building.

Inexplicably nervous, Donna fidgeted during the short elevator ride.

"I had Erin call," Josh told her. "They were moved to the second
floor last night."

"Good," Donna nodded. She hated nothing so much as the astringent
smell of a hospital. She hated the way hospital elevators seemed to
rumble and shake more than the regular ones. And she especially hated
the way a door opened both in front of her and behind her when they
reached the second floor.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he swept her out of the elevator, his
hand on her lower back.

"I'm fine." She swallowed hard, gripping the handle of her purse
tightly with both hands.

"Are you feeling sick again?"

"I'm fine. I'm good."

"You're nervous."

She glanced up to find his cheeks dimpling and eyes alight with good
humor. How could she tell him that she suddenly felt as if she were
intruding? Or that maybe they should wait until Raleigh and Chloe
were released from the hospital?

As though reading her mind, Josh spoke up. "They're supposed to be
released tomorrow morning. Tomorrow will be a very busy day for us,
and so will the next. This might be your last chance to see them for
a few days."

"Of course," Donna sighed.

"Here we are," he pointed at the door with a temporary tag in neon
pink marker listing, "Seaborn, Raleigh." Some of the doors they
passed in the corridor had names listed with neon blue.

Donna opened the door, then thought better of it, and knocked sharply
before stepping fully into the room. "Knock, knock," she called.

"Donna?" Raleigh's groggy sounding voice answered.

Donna and Josh stepped into the room to find Raleigh looking decidedly
sleepy, though she was shifting herself into a more vertical position.
"Oh, you were sleeping," Donna lamented. "We should come back later."

"Don't be silly," Raleigh assured. "I was just dozing for a while.
The nurse said I should sleep every chance I get because I won't get
much when we get home. Hey, Josh!" she waved.

"How're you doing?"

"My stomach's flat again...mostly, the pain is manageable, and I gave
birth to the most beautiful baby in the world...I can't complain."

"Well, you're glowing, so labor and delivery must agree with you."
Donna sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Raleigh into a hug.

"I think all the sweating cleaned out my pores," Raleigh chuckled
self-deprecatingly into Donna's hair.

"I think it's more than that," Donna insisted. "How do you feel,
really?"

Sensing that Donna was asking about more than her physical status,
Raleigh throat tightened and her eyes moistened. "Amazing," she
answered. "It's all amazing."

Donna glanced over her shoulder at her husband, who seemed
inordinately interested in the Venetian blinds on the room's window.
He was deliberately tuning them out, she knew, giving her a moment
alone with Raleigh while still remaining in their presence.

"I'm a little...jealous," Donna confessed in a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Raleigh nodded and whispered back. "I know and it's okay. I
understand. More than you know. Maybe it's time you have a serious
talk with him; I think he's ready for it now."

"What makes you think that?"

"He was my savior, Donna," Raleigh raised her voice to let Josh know
she was talking about him. "He let me squeeze the life out of his
hands, and when that wasn't enough he let me call him terrible names.
And he took it all like a pro. How are your hands?"

Josh cleared his throat before answering, "Nothing I can't handle."

Donna grinned, "And Josh is no stranger to being called terrible names."

"Hey!"

"Just not usually by people he cares about," she amended. Her blue
eyes softened as she stared at him, catching his half-hearted glare.
"That's my man," she said, her voice tinged with pride and sweetness.

"He did you proud," Raleigh said. Both women watched as Josh's face
flushed under their scrutiny and their compliments.

"He always does," Donna replied without taking her eyes off her
husband. "But this time he went above and beyond."
"So where's Sam?" Josh asked; a sledge hammer attempt to remove the
glare of their white hot attention from him.

"In the nursery," Raleigh shook her head. "I think he's forgotten I
still exist. You know," she mock lamented, "one day their running a
mile in the snow on the coldest day of the year for you, and the next
they move on to some cute young thing. Watch your back, Donna."

"I'll keep that in mind," Donna replied with a non-committal wave.

"You probably want to see Chloe too, which is a good thing, because
I'm dying to show her off." Raleigh paged a nurse and within moments
she was asking for her baby to be brought in. "And see if you can
peel my husband away from the nursery too," she called to the nurse.

"I'm sure he'll go wherever the baby goes," Donna chuckled.

"You never know, Donna. He's already planning number two. I told him
we should figure out how to handle number one first."

As they waited for the nurse to arrive with the baby, Raleigh
recounted the more harrowing moments of her labor and delivery.
Especially those early moments when she called their house and finally
ended up asking for Donna.

"I am so sorry I wasn't there." Donna's apology was contrite and
heartfelt.

"I thought you were supposed to be home day before yesterday."

"I was," Donna informed, "but then we were offered a look at Vera
Wang's new spring line."

"Did you get a dress?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. I forgive you."

"What?!" Josh screeched, incredulously. "She gets a free pass for
going shopping?"

"A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do," Raleigh told him.

"It's a conspiracy," Josh sighed, wiping his hand over his face.

Just then the baby's bassinet rolled into the room, followed by the
nurse and Sam, who clearly wouldn't take his eyes off his daughter.

Chloe seemed blessedly unaware of the hullabaloo surrounding her as
she was nestled deep and warm in a pink blanket.

"Oh my goodness," Donna whispered. "Aren't you beautiful?" Josh had
been right; she clearly had the look of her father about her. "May I?"

At Raleigh's nod, Donna reached down and lifted Chloe from her
bassinet. She held the infant to her chest as she located a chair and
took a seat. Once settled, Donna studied Chloe's face for a moment
before caressing the soft skin of the baby's cheek with the back of an
index finger. Chloe didn't stir.

"The nurse says she's tired from the birth, but I think she's going to
be a laid-back kid," Raleigh quietly announced. "She doesn't even cry
when she's hungry, she just gets this demanding look on her face and
sort of huffs as though I'm not attending to her needs in a manner
that she finds acceptable. But then she's very forgiving when her
stomach is full."

"You know all that after less than 48 hours?" Donna's stunned voice
inquired.

"You learn fast," Sam cracked.

"Not so fast that I'm not glad my mother's coming to stay with us for
a few weeks," Raleigh qualified.

Josh studied Sam from head to toe. His friend's dark hair, just
beginning to gray around the temples, looked as though it hadn't seen
the business end of a comb in a while. His pants were wrinkled beyond
anything Josh had ever witnessed before, not even in days long past
when they'd often worn the same suit two days in a row. Josh didn't
know what the crusty yellow stuff on Sam's shoulder was, and he didn't
think he wanted to know. The man looked exhausted, but energized,
just like he used to after finishing a State of the Union address.
"Raleigh says you've spent every spare minute in the nursery with
her?" Josh needled Sam.

"How many stories have we heard about babies being stolen right out of
hospital nurseries?" Sam posited, barely sparing Josh a glance.
Still, Josh could see that his friend's eyes gleamed with worry, and
perhaps a bit of sudden-onset fatherhood madness. "You can't be too
careful."

"Okay." Josh humored his friend.

"Besides, I don't want to miss it when she does something new."

"And what amazing leaps of development has your daughter performed in
these, her first 48 hours?"

"Shut up," Sam smirked, finally catching on to Josh's game. "Just
wait until it's your turn."

"I will handle it with much more aplomb than you seem to be," Josh
assured confidently.

"You think you're going to be that way," Sam informed him, his eyes
glazing in remembrance. "You think you're going to handle it like a
man; be cool and confident. But then it happens and you're just...mush."

"Mush?"

"Useless mush," he qualified. "But it's okay, and you don't
understand why. Being a man is a pretense, Josh. Being a father is
real."

"You're making absolutely no sense."

"I know," Sam smiled. "Not now anyway; but I will. I'll make perfect
sense when you're standing where I am."

Josh couldn't come up with response to that, didn't even know if there
was one, so instead he turned back to watch his wife holding Chloe,
and struck by how natural she looked cradling an infant in her arms.
Donna leaned back in the chair, holding Chloe and observing the
slumbering infant as conversation in the room shifted from topic to
topic as she only paid attention to half of it. Later, when the
foursome spoke of the Inauguration, Raleigh lamented the money and
effort that went into planning a gown she would never get to wear.

"I wasn't supposed to deliver until after the Inauguration. Now I
have a dress I can't wear until I'm eight months pregnant again.
Something I'm not convinced I want to be again anytime soon," she added.

Sam pouted.

"You could always donate it," Donna suggested.

"Make sure you take pictures of you in your dress tomorrow night."

"I will."

As though sensing the strains of conversation coming to an end, Chloe
stirred and wriggled in Donna's arms. She didn't cry out, but she
seemed to have the expression on her face that Raleigh had described
only a short time before. "I think it's the look," Donna said. She
stood carefully and passed the baby to its mother.

"Yes, she definitely wants to be fed."

"We should be heading back to the office anyway," Josh said quietly.
He'd made only a few comments since Chloe arrived, but Donna had
noticed that he'd spent that time observing her with the baby, a
half-smile lingering on his face.

Donna kissed Raleigh on the cheek and gave Sam the same treatment,
plus a tight hug, before leaving. In the hallway, Josh grabbed her
hand as the walked back the way they had come. The ride back to the
office was equally quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. His thumb
caressed the back of her hand as it rested beside her on the leather
seat of the town car.

When the car arrived at the White House he kissed her before they
could go their separate ways. "See you tonight," he whispered; his
voice was full of promise.

With a little bit of organization and a lot of determination, Donna
managed to get caught up on all her work and reach the end of her call
sheet by seven o'clock. When Josh dragged into the house at 8:30 he
found her upstairs on the Stairmaster, a bottle of water in one hand
while the other gripped the rail for balance. She was watching a
ridiculous movie on a cable network as the ponytail at the back of her
head swayed to and fro with each step. Perspiration glistened and
rolled down the expanse of skin revealed above and below her sports bra.

As promised he dragged her sweaty body off the apparatus with a vow to
make her even sweatier. She insisted on taking a shower, which for
him was as good a place as any to make love to her. The water in the
shower chilled after a while, forcing them to decamp to their bed.

Donna felt deliciously lethargic after both the workout and the
lovemaking session - better than any sleeping pill could make her
feel. In their satiated state, they spoke in low whispers about work,
the long day ahead, and their early afternoon visit to the hospital.
He teased her about the look of instant love in her eyes when she held
Chloe. She confessed that she saw the way he was watching her with
that half-smile on his face. Josh laughed it off and told to her to
get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be excruciating and they
wouldn't see their bed again until the wee hours of the day after.

TBC

****



See disclaimers in part 1.


****

The Tell 21/21
By Lacy


As was too often the case, in his mind, Donna was already showered and
getting ready for the day by the time he surfaced from his deep
slumber. She would often let him sleep as late as possible when he
much preferred waking with her in his arms, even if that meant losing
an extra hour of rest. Without fail, days that started that way
seemed to end much better.

She tossed everything she would need for the day and the evening into
a duffel bag. Despite his groggy state of half-wakefulness, he didn't
miss the red bag with the curvy `f' printed on it disappear into the
void of her duffel.

"That for me?" he questioned with a smirk. Frederick's of Hollywood
could only mean one thing - she was making plans to get dirty,
possibly wanton, and definitely shameless.

"If you're a good boy there might be a surprise for you tonight."

"I'm always a good boy."

Her only response was a sardonic smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Well, mostly," he qualified. "I'm good when it counts. You might
also like to know that if you're a good girl I might have a surprise
for you as well."

"You know how I feel about surprises." The warning tone in her voice
was more seductive than heated.

"I'm fairly confident that you'll like this surprise."

"It's time to get up, Joshua."

"Are we riding in together?" he asked as he climbed out of bed.

"Unless you planned on coming home alone tonight."

"So, that's a yes then. I'll be quick."

"Where's your tux?"

"I gave it to Erin last week to send it out. It should be in my
closet at the office."

"Okay. I'm packing your shoes."

Other than the fact that it was Inauguration Day, it was a fairly
normal morning in the Lyman household. Josh spent his predictable ten
minutes in the shower and another ten minutes shaving before emerging
with a towel strung dangerously low around his hips. Donna had chosen
his suit, shirt and the tie to match, all of which were laid out
carefully on the bed she put to rights while he was in the bathroom.

She was already dressed for a day which would require her to spend an
inordinate amount of time outdoors in fifteen degree weather. Her
suit consisted of a tight, gray, calf-length skirt with a short slit
up the middle and a matching gray jacket that was fitted at the waist
but trailed down to the back of her thighs. Beneath the jacket she
wore a tailored button up shirt the color of red wine and on her feet,
her black knee-high leather boots, lined with warm flannel.

That, plus her coat and scarf should at least keep her from dying of
hypothermia before the end of the day, though she would probably have
to spend a good hour warming herself at the fireplace in her office
afterwards. She reminded herself to have Elaine call maintenance to
have the fire lit and stoked for her return. A fireplace in one's
office was a rare and distinct pleasure and she liked to take
advantage of it whenever she could.

While Josh dressed, Donna let Chester out for his morning
constitutional. She hated the idea of leaving him crated all day
long, so she decided to leave him out and deal with the consequences
later. Before departing for the office she made sure that his food
and water bowls were filled, all edibles were moved out of reach on
the kitchen counter and island, and that a plethora of chew toys were
strewn about for his entertainment. She also left the living room
television set to the Animal Planet channel to keep him company.

As she finished these tasks, Josh strode in from the bedroom, swing
his jacket around his back and sliding his arms through the sleeves.
At the front door he took her coat from the coat closet and held it
out for her, rescuing her long hair from the confines of the coat as
she settled it on her shoulders. The car waited for them at the curb,
the door held open for them by Agent Ladner as they climbed into its
warmth. They chatted about a number of work topics during their ride,
but never once did either of them tease, or intimate the surprises
they had in store for one another come the end of the day.

That fact alone made it a morning unlike any other.

They held hands during the ceremony at noon, but separated shortly
after, just as they had done four years before. Easily sliding into
their work personas, Donna went to her meeting with Annabeth, while
Josh had the CIA director on the books. Meetings on Inauguration Day
were in-house only, no NGOs or other outside entities. Their days
would be full of those next week.

Donna called at six to remind Josh it was time to put down whatever he
was working on and start getting ready. Knowing her habits as only a
man married to her could, he knew she had already been prepping and
primping for over an hour now.

He wasn't wrong. She'd begun the preparation process just after
5p.m., struggling through the application process of her evening
makeup. As requested, the fireplace in her office had been lit and
the room was warm and toasty when she returned from the ceremony.
Strangely though, she hadn't been able to shake the numbness in her
hands, which felt as though they'd been pumped full of lidocaine. It
took two attempts for Donna to get her mascara on correctly, and it
wasn't until the third try that her lipstick looked like it wasn't
applied by a four-year-old. She had to call Annabeth to help with her
zipper, the tab of which was so tiny that she couldn't feel it beneath
her insensate fingertips.

Finally, deeming herself ready she picked up her lavender beaded purse
and headed out to the West Wing. As though timed down to the minute,
or perhaps because she knew him as only a woman married to him could,
she floated into his office just as he was tying his shoes. When he
glanced up from his task she could see his breath catch, feel the air
in the room heat up all around her, as she stood before him in her
amethyst gown, an angelic smile on her face.

"You get more stunning every time," he complimented. "My blinding
beauty. In fact, I think you're the reason I have to wear glasses now."

"You have to wear glasses now because you're 50 years old. You should
have been wearing them ten years ago."

"I still see well enough to know that you look like you've been poured
into that thing." He was right. The dress fit her as though built
around her body; she was tucked in some places and lifted in others.
"Will you even be able to dance in that dress?"

"I should be fine, as long as you don't dip me."

"No dips?" he questioned. "But that's my favorite part. I'm the
master of the dip."

"Not this time, Dip Master."

He considered her dress again and thought better of the dipping. The
d‚colletage of the dress plunged low enough to tantalize and show a
delicious and, for Josh, discomfiting amount of cleavage.
Three-quarters sleeves encased her lithe arms and the material
embraced her hips closely and lovingly before dropping to the floor
and flaring out slightly. He would be surprised to discover if she
could even sit in the dress.

She wore her hair down, just the way he liked it and it floated around
her shoulders like cascading silk. No other accessories graced her
body, just the simple beauty of her jewel-like eyes and her shining smile.

Without a word or comeback, she took the bowtie dangling from his hand
and went to work on her favorite part of the night. This moment was
the reason getting up this morning had been so easy. He slipped one
arm around her waist and tugged her closer as she tied the tie and
worked it until the sides were even and it sat straight on his neck.

"Donna?" Confusion tinged his voice. His hand gripped tighter around
her waist.

She smiled a knowing smile. "Yes?"

"Are there security concerns I haven't been made aware of?" Expecting
to feel her soft flesh beneath the dress, instead he'd met with
resistance.

"Hmmmm?"

"Are you...are you wearing body armor?"

"Something like that." Her smile was slow like molasses and seductive
as hell.

"What?"

"I told you if you were a good boy there would a surprise for you."

"Frederick's of Hollywood makes bulletproof lingerie now?"

"It's a corset, Josh."

He goggled for a second, his brow wrinkling and his mouth gaping,
before wresting control of his facial features. "Well now I'm going
to spend the whole night thinking of how many ways I can take this
dress off you."

"As it should be."

She saw the moment when his eyes lit with inspiration, and sensed the
cunning and guile in their depths.

"What?" she asked in a wary voice.

"One good turn deserves another." Josh released her and stepped out
of her space, striding to the closet and withdrawing his coat. "I
told you I had a surprise for you tonight, too. And if you're going
to torment me with prior knowledge of lingerie, then I'm going to
torment you right back." He dug into the pocket of the coat's lining
and removed a terribly wrapped packaged, the size of small book.

"You think you can torment me?"

"Oh, I think I've got your number." He handed her the package, with a
positively devilish grin on his face.

"I can see that you wrapped this yourself."

"Gift wrapping services were not available."

"So...not from one of your high end jewelry stores," she surmised. She
shook the package and listened as it clunkety-clunked. "Not breakable
either."

"Thankfully, no. Are you going to open it?" He had his hands shoved
in his pockets and was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet;
dimples shining for all they were worth. Donna considered torturing
him further, but was more intrigued by what was in the box than by
delaying her husband's gift-giving glee.

She ripped off the bow and the paper without regard for neatness, as
he had displayed no regard for neatness while wrapping it, and found a
plane white box underneath. No logo...nothing. Curiouser and
curiousier. Josh may have outdone himself this time, perhaps finding
something unique and quirky to give to her.

Flipping the lid open and glancing into the box, it took a moment for
her brain to process its contents. The smile of wary anticipation
she'd been wearing slipped slowly from her face. The gift wasn't
unique, though it could definitely qualify as quirky.

"Well?" he asked.

"I think you've brought the concept of re-gifting to a whole new
level." It was the only thing she could think of to say other than,
"What the hell does this mean? These are my birth control pills, Josh."

Inside the box was three months worth of birth control, including the
month she was currently working her way through. She'd taken one from
the packet only this morning.

"Surprise," he said.

"I'm a little...confused."

"I'm giving you the birth control pills-"

"I got that."

"-so that...I thought...tonight...together, we could flush them down the
toilet. Or something."

His words seemed to bounce around her brain for a full minute before
she could grasp their meaning. She was almost too afraid to hope they
meant what she wanted them to mean.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Josh whispered.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really?" she asked again, sounding as though she were a record stuck
in a rut.

"Donna." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly to dissipate
the glaze that lingered in her eyes. Drawing her gaze to his, he
cupped her cheek with one hand.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Let's make a baby."

"Really?"

"Okay, let's not start that again."

"You want to have a baby?"

"No, that's your department, but I totally want to get you pregnant.
How do you feel about that?"

His question hung the air for a moment before he found her crashing
against his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck. He laughed as
she placed frantic kisses of happiness up and down his neck and all
over his cheek.

"You want to tear off my clothes right now, don't you?" he teased.

"I do, I do, I do," she said, punctuating her words with kisses.

"Too bad it's going to be at least five hours before we get any
privacy. Her lips found his, cutting off his next words with a
sloppy, wet smooch. The kiss went from sloppy and silly to passionate
and affecting in only a matter of seconds. Eventually, Josh was
forced to take control of matters. He tore his mouth away from hers.
"Oh, look at the time," he said, checking his watch. "The motorcade
is leaving in three minutes."

"Maybe we can slip out early. Skip the last few parties."

"Maybe," he answered, his eyes narrowing. "Does this mean I've earned
a glimpse at whatever tasty confection you have hiding beneath your
frock?"

"I'd say you've earned more than a glimpse. You, Joshua Lyman have
been a very, very good boy."

They helped each other into their coats before he grabbed her hand and
led her out of his office and into the hallway towards the North
Entrance where they would catch their ride.

"Phase Five," she sighed, wistfully. Her emotions were getting the
better of her and she didn't even mind. With her ring finger, she
wiped a lone tear from her eye.

"Phase Five," he echoed.

"What comes after Phase Five?" she wondered. "Our plan only went to
Phase Five."

"Phase Six, of course," he chuckled.

"What's Phase Six?" she asked.

As they stood in the lights of the White House driveway waiting for
their ride to appear, he absorbed the beautiful, serene expression on
the face he'd come to know he couldn't live without. Josh captured
her lips with his for a kiss that was brief and chaste but filled with
love and promise.

"Growing old together."



The End.