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"This Can't Be Happening" Part 1/? Hi guys! This is going to be a short little story. It's important to realize that this story is not connected to any series or any other ongoing story, it's totally separate. Disclaimer: All characters except really minor ones, like Jackie, belong to the great god of writing, Aaron Sorkin and all his affiliates and producing partners, etc. Category/Thread: Crisis situation Archive: Sure, just let me know. Spoilers: None Rating: PG-13
"This Can't Be Happening" Part 1/? I sigh and check my watch for the hundred thousandth time. 9:07. I still have another hour and eight minutes to go before I have to leave for the airport. It's December 21st, and everyone has left already to take their flights home for the holidays. Josh was lucky enough to catch a 8:41 flight from Washington to Connecticut, but my flight to Wisconsin doesn't leave until 10:54. Josh has been whining for weeks about how messy his office is, and since I had almost two hours to spare, I - stupidly - offered to clean his office while waiting for my flight. Call it the Christmas spirit of giving, or what you will, but now I was stuck going through Josh's many mounds of old papers and filing them away. I've decided to use the filing cabinets in the bullpen, near my desk, because I know that Josh won't be able to find things in his office anyway, and this will be more convenient for me when he bellows at me to find a file. Unfortunately, this leaves me no choice but to continuously carry loads of paper back and forth from Josh's office to the bullpen. After about fifteen minutes, I notice exactly how quiet it is. It's funny, I never realized how much noise Josh and his staff make until now that everyone's gone. It's almost eerie. I reach up and turn on one of the TVs that hang from the ceiling. It's always turned to CNN, but I don't really care what's on right now, as long as I can hear something other than my footsteps echoing off the walls. I'm on my sixth or seventh trip from Josh's office, not really paying attention to the television, when something catches my attention. I stop in my tracks and focus on the newscaster reading a special report. "We have just-breaking news. A USAir commercial flight from Washington, D.C. en route to Hartford, Connecticut has crashed into Chesapeake Bay. The Coast Guard is currently out searching for the wreckage. We have no word at this time whether or not there are any survivors. For those of you just tuning in..." And then she goes to repeat it again. Certain phrases are standing out in my mind, creating sharp stabs of pain through my stomach. Washington to Connecticut. Crashed. No word of survivors. Then the realization hits me: Josh could be on that flight. I drop the pile of papers I was holding, and it hits the ground with a thud. I rush over to my desk, shoving aside paper after paper. Flight information, flight information. Why don't I have any information on Josh's flight? Then I remember: Josh made these arrangements on his own, without help from me or the White House Travel Office. I don't know if he was on this flight or not. I don't know where he is right now. I don't know if...I don't want to finish that thought, but it hits me anyway. Josh could be dead right now. I feel my knees give out and sink into my chair, unaware of how it got under me. I know I should be calling someone, but I can't think of who. The Coast Guard? The FAA? The President? My mouth goes dry at the thought of calling the President or, oh god, Leo. "Hi, Leo, it's Donna. Just wanted to let you know that Josh is probably dead. Merry Christmas." Oh, god, this can't be happening. I'm trying to force myself to pick up the phone and call someone, when it rings. I can't take this call. What if it's someone calling to tell me... I take a deep breath and pick up the phone. "Josh Lyman's office," I say. I feel better answering the phone this way; it makes me feel more in control. Whether Josh is dead or not, this is still his office, and I am still his assistant. "Donna." It's Sam. I wonder if he knows yet. I start making a mental list of everyone that I would have to call if Josh really is dead. Leo, the President, C.J., Toby...Boy, Toby would be pissed. I mean really pissed, because then Toby would have to take on more meetings, and Toby hates meetings. What am I thinking about? I'm in such a state of hysteria that I don't even hear Sam trying to talk to me. "Donna?" I force myself back to reality. Josh needs for me to stay levelheaded. Big deal. I need for Josh to stay...alive. "Yeah?" I hear myself say. I'm not even taking part in this conversation; I'm on autopilot. "Have you heard?" Sam asks cautiously. "I have CNN on. I heard." "Is Josh on that plane?" I absentmindedly twirl and untwirl a loose string from my sweater around my finger. "I don't know." "You don't know?" Sam asks incredulously. "No." I know I must sound like a total space cadet, but I'm nearing my breaking point. I'm just this side of complete hysteria, and it's taking all my mental focus not to pass out. "Donna, are you okay?" I snap. "No, Sam, I'm not okay. My boss - my friend - may very well be swimming in the Chesapeake Bay right now, and I'm sitting here watching CNN, because maybe that might do something to help him. Never mind the fact that I'm an employee of the White House, that I work for the most powerful man in the world, I'm sitting here staring at a random blond anchorwoman who has more information than I do, and the Coast Guard works for my boss!" Sam is going to hang up on me now, because he has probably realized that I am unstable. One minute I'm totally out of it, and the next minute I'm screaming at him. "Sorry." "I'm coming back there." "You don't have to do that. Wait, where are you?" It just occurred to me that for all I know, Sam is already in California, 3,000 miles away. "I'm in St. Louis, waiting for my connecting flight to L.A. I'm getting on the next plane back to Washington." "Sam -" "I'm just as worried about Josh as you are, Donna. I'm not going to let you worry alone." "Sam..." I give in. At least this way I'll have someone to panic with. "Is there anything I can do right now?" "Have you called anyone?" I shake my head before realizing that Sam can't see me. Wow, I need to get a better grip on reality. "No. I was going to, but I couldn't think of who to call, and then you called." Yeah, that was coherent. "You could call the airline." Duh. Why didn't I think of that? "Okay," I say stupidly. "Use Leo's name if it helps. I'll be there as soon as I can." "Okay." My vocabulary is outstanding. "Sam?" "Yeah?" "Thanks." "Don't mention it." Sam pauses for a moment. "Donna, I'm sure Josh is fine. He probably wasn't even on that plane." "Yeah," I say, wanting to believe it. "Bye." "Bye." I hang up the phone and stare at it, as if it's going to give me some answers. Okay. Have to call the airline. Find out if Josh is on that plane. I call information to get the number of the airline. My hands are shaking as I dial the number of the airline. A kind-but-frazzled-sounding voice answers the phone. "Hello, USAir. How can I help you?" he asks. I almost feel bad for him; I'm sure it must be a madhouse over there. "Hi, this is Donnatella Moss from the White House. I'm calling for Leo McGarry, the White House Chief of Staff." I'm trying to drop as many hints as possible that I'm someone important. "Yes?" "Mr. McGarry needs to know if Joshua Lyman, his Deputy Chief of Staff was on that plane that crashed and if -" "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we don't have that information right now." I give a strained laugh. "I know you're not releasing it yet, but Mr. McGarry needs to know -" "We really don't even have that information at this time," he responds curtly but politely. "Look, I know that's what you say when you just don't want to give out the information, but I'm calling from the White House." I'm trying not to blow up at this poor guy answering the phones. "Ma'am. Things are a little bit crazy here right now. We're having trouble with our computers, the phones are ringing, basically all hell has broken loose. We don't have the passenger list available." "The computers are down?" I ask, my voice softer now. This guy sounds frazzled enough without my hysterics. "Yes." "Could that be why -" "We don't know yet why the plane crashed, ma'am, if that's what you're asking. I could have someone call you when we know something, but it may not be for a while." "I won't find out if my boss is dead for a while?" I ask, nearing the edge again. "I'm sorry, ma'am." "Thank you." I hang up the phone, not bothering to say goodbye. I'm not in the mood for politeness now. I lean back in my chair, thinking about what else I can do now. I unconsciously check my watch. 10:27. I was supposed to leave for the airport twelve minutes ago, but there's no way in hell that's going to happen. I'm not going home until I know that Josh is okay. With a weary sigh, I pick up the phone again to call my family. "Hello?" My sister Jacqueline answers the phone. There's a lot of noise in the background, and it's hard for me to hear her. "Jackie? It's Donna." "Donnatella, hey! Brandon, sit down!" My sister has two unruly sons: Brandon and Ryan. I'm willing to bet that they're the cause of all the noise. "What's up?" "Listen, Jackie, I'm not going to be able to come home tonight." That catches her attention. "Why not? Is everything okay?" I sigh and rub my temples. "Actually, no. There was a plane crash...my boss may have been on that plane." I hear Jackie suck in a deep breath. "Josh?" "Yeah." "Oh, god, Donna, we saw that crash on the news. He was really on the plane?" "We don't know. The computers are down at the airline, and they can't tell me if he was on the plane or not. I don't know if this was his flight. I don't have the flight number." I'm starting to cry again. "Oh, Donna, I'm sure it'll be okay." "I just wish I knew if he was on the plane," I sniffle. "Is there anything I can do?" "Just tell everyone why I'm not coming home. I'll be able to come home...I don't know when I'll be able to come home. I'll call when - when I know something." "Okay. Take care of yourself, Donna." "Yeah." I hang up, shaking my head. How can I worry about myself at a time like this? It's not my job to worry about myself; it's my job to worry about Josh. In a sudden flash of inspiration, it occurs to me to try calling Josh's cell phone or pager. I punch in the number for his cell phone first. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ri - "We're sorry, the cellular customer you have called is unavailable. Please try your call again later." I slam the phone down. Where would Josh's cell phone not work? The worst thought comes to mind first. Josh's cell phone wouldn't work underwater. Okay. Breathe. Next. Try paging him. I dial Josh's beeper number and punch in the number. I hang up and wait patiently for him to call back. A sudden beeping startles me. I follow the beeping sound, trying to figure out where it's coming from. I follow it all the way into Josh's office, where the beeping is apparently coming from his desk. I push aside a mound of papers, and there's Josh's beeper, sitting on his desk, beeping away. I angrily press the button to stop the beeping and stalk out of the room frustratedly. For now, at least, there's nothing I can do. It's been over an hour since this nightmare began. All I can do right now is hope that this is only a nightmare, and maybe soon I'll wake up. To be continued...
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