The Door

by: Ygrawn

Character(s): Donna, Josh
Pairing(s): Donna/Josh
Disclaimer(s): Not mine
Rating: PG, I guess.
Category(s): Angst/Romance
Author's Note: The last line just kept floating through my head. So, I worked backwards.

Josh is yelling.

That isn't unusual, but he's yelling at Amy.

That isn't particularly unusual either, but they're breaking up.

And, really, after thee years of a tripping, stumbling on-and-off- again relationship that the entire West Wing as been an unwilling audience to, that's not terribly abnormal.

But the fact that Josh's office door is wide open, and he and Amy are having a screaming match about Donna, is pretty unusual.

Sam watches Donna in profile - he's four feet away from her, frozen to his place the same way she is.

He thinks CJ must be in a meeting, otherwise she'd be here, and she'd know what to do. CJ could fix it. And Toby is writing, and probably can't hear a thing from the Communications bullpen, and if Leo was here, he would have stopped this before it began.

So, it's Sam, Donna, and a collection of White House staffers standing in the bullpen, all of them frozen, all of them watching Donna. She seems to be the only person with the power to stop this.

Amy and Josh have been yelling about Donna for a few minutes now. The argument itself has been raging for most of the morning. Amy was mad at Josh when she arrived, and it went downhill from there, because Josh has never, to Sam's knowledge, backed down from a fight. Josh dredged up something Amy had done and started yelling about that. Amy took exception and started insulting him, and now, at exactly 11:34, they're arguing about Donna.

And everybody is watching the tall blonde, listening to Amy and Josh yell about her. Donna's standing in the middle of the bullpen, a folder in hand, eyes wide, immobile.

Sam came over from his office to ask Josh's advice on Senator Byers. By now, nearly a year into Bartlet's second term, they've all learnt to interrupt Amy and Josh's arguments if they want to talk to Josh. Neither of them seem to care - they can halt their arguments for days or weeks, and never lose their respective places.

So, Sam arrived in the bullpen just in time to hear Amy say, "Well, I'm not the one who fawns all over my assistant like she's the Second Coming."

Sam froze immediately, because this was unspoken territory.

There was a half-beat, and Josh said, dryly, "I'm Jewish, Amy, we don't think there's been a First Coming."

Amy sputtered. "That's not the point."

"Well, what is your point?"

That was Josh's mistake, Sam thought. He should have glossed right over the subject, changed it, or made another joke. Josh should have recognized the inherent danger of his discussion. Instead, he asked a question and gave Amy the opportunity to take this topic out for a ride.

And oh, how she is.

They're into minute six, now, still frozen, listening to Amy's shrill catalogue of grievances. Josh jumps when Donna calls; he worries more about her than he does about Amy; he spends far too much time with her; their relationship is entirely inappropriate; there are rumours all over the Hill - and Amy has to listen to them, laugh them off, all the time wondering, wondering...

Josh keeps trying to intervene, and Sam thinks that neither of them realizes that the door is wide open, or that they have an audience. A frozen, astounded audience who are watching Donna.

Sam has always known about Josh and Donna - they all have - in the same way you know when it's going to rain, or the way you can unconsciously hum the next note in a song you've never heard before, simply because it unfolds in your head.

So, he's always known about Josh and Donna, and what Josh and Donna could be, or would be, and he's always known about the rumours, the implications, but really, this is just...tacky. This is unfair on Donna, but Sam is frozen, and doesn't know what to do. Everything before this has been silent. Unspoken. Suddenly, Josh and Amy are broadcasting it across the White House.

Josh manages to get in something about Amy's outrageous and unfounded jealousy, and the fact that he has a very important and demanding job, so of course he spends a lot of time with his capable, professional assistant, who happens to be the only person who can keep him organized and focused from one day to the next.

Amy begins yelling again, though, and Sam can see this getting much, much worse. In fact, he can't see it actually getting better. Amy's going to dredge up everything - every risqué comment, every concerned glance, every banter-flirty conversation, every single time Josh has blown Amy off to work with Donna, every time Josh has confided in Donna first, worried about Donna first, and every time he's called Donna whilst he's been on holiday with Amy.

Sam's about to interrupt when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Donna move. He sees her walk towards Josh's office, long legs eclipsing the distance easily. She steps into Josh's line of sight, and her boss' face blanches. The colour drains from Josh's face as he realizes that everybody just heard their argument. Josh begins to move around the desk, towards Donna.

But Donna very calmly grabs the door handle on Josh's door and yanks it closed with all the force she can muster.

Apparently, she can muster a lot. Sam tilts his head. CJ isn't the only one who has broken the White House, now.

The door handle rolls into the wall with a noisy clutter and the broken hinge at the top of the door flaps uselessly.

There's silence in the office and the bullpen.

"You broke the door!" Josh cries, from behind the door. His voice is muffled "You..." he opens the door gingerly, and sets it down at a lopsided angle. "Donna! You broke the door!"

Behind him, Amy is staring at the door with surprise and chagrin. She was really getting her rant up, Sam thinks.

Donna raises an eyebrow. "You've got a meeting with Lachlan Turner in ten minutes. And Sam's here to see you. Amy, your assistant has rung for you three times, but assures me it's not urgent. I'm going to lunch."

Josh automatically looks at his watch. "It's 11: 45."

"I'm taking a long lunch," Donna says in a tight voice. "A very long lunch."

She returns to her desk, grabs her purse and walks out.

The gathered crowd keeps looking at Josh.

"What?" he demands. "Don't you people have work to do?"

The power of movement and speech returns to them, and the usual traffic and noise of the White House resumes.

"I should...go," Amy says, stepping cautiously through the doorway. She watches Donna's retreating back. "I'll see you tonight?"

Josh stares at her, confused. "What?"

"Tonight. We've going out to dinner. We organized it weeks ago."

"Amy..." Josh trails off. "I'm busy."

Realizing that now is not the time, Amy nods and leaves.

Sam stares at Josh. Then at the broken door. "Wow. I don't think there are words for how stupid you are."

When Donna returns from lunch, at two o'clock, the door is still sitting at its lopsided angle, and the door handle is now resting on top of a filing cabinet. Without putting her things down, she enters the office.

"Josh?"

His head snaps up. "Donna - where have you been?"

She holds up her bags. "Shopping. Having lunch. Has someone called maintenance?"

"I...you...were shopping?"

"Yes. Has someone called maintenance?"

"No. What did you buy?"

"Shoes. I'll call maintenance. And you've got Budget meetings for the rest of the afternoon. If you don't go now you'll be late."

"But I...we...you broke my door."

"Yes."

"You broke my door."

"You've had two hours to deal with it, Josh. And it's easily fixed."

Josh sighs. "Okay. Don't go anywhere."

Donna gestures to her overflowing desk. Two hours is a lifetime in the White House, and it's not just her work she's dropped, it's Josh's, too. "Trust me - I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." Josh collects his jacket. "Good."

He heads off to his meeting and Donna returns to her desk. People stare at her, but she ignores them. She's used to people staring - she's one half of the famous Josh and Donna Show. She calls maintenance without telling them exactly how the door was broken, and starts to deal with the chaos on her desk.

People don't stop staring.

But she expected that.

********

"Hey."

Donna looks up and realizes that it's nearly eight o'clock. She's missed dinner, but she's not really hungry.

"Hey," she replies. "How was the meeting?"

"Fine. Boring. Long. But fine. Come into the office?"

She hesitates for a moment, and then follows Josh.

He smiles at her. "Want to close the door?"

"Funny." She glares at him. "Maintenance should have it fixed by tomorrow morning."

"I won't hold my breath." Josh leans against his desk. "You shouldn't have heard that argument."

"The entire White House shouldn't have heard that argument," Donna counters. "Leo wants to see you, so get ready to be yelled at for bringing your personal business into the workplace and disrupting everybody's office environment."

"Yeah." Josh lets his head fall back. "We've argued about you before."

"I don't want hear it, Josh." Donna exhales slowly. Apparently, it's the day for unspoken things to be voiced. "I don't believe for a moment that the argument was really about me. I was just...a convenient way of...of..."

"Getting to me," Josh finishes. "Most people know you're my weakness, Donna."

"Josh," she says softly. "I don't want to hear it."

"Amy thinks we're in love."

Donna takes a stumbling step backwards. Her head - her whole body - can't hear this. Things will crumble around her if she has to hear it. "I've got work to do. And you have to see Leo."

"Donna..." Josh stands up, takes a step towards her.

She takes another step back. "Josh... don't."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not...I'm not afraid of anything. This is just... a very inappropriate conversation. I have nothing to do with your relationship with Amy. I don't care what she thinks. I don't care what you two argue about."

"Donna..."

She manages a smile, because that's the best way to deal with this. "In the future, though, could you not argue about me? Particularly not in front of half the White House."

"It wasn't half the White House," Josh disputes. "Although you have every right to be angry."

"Is that an apology?"

"No," he smirks. "Did Leo yell at you for breaking the White House?"

"I didn't break the White House," Donna rolls her eyes. "I broke your door. And it was a crappy door. It shouldn't have broken that easily."

"You slammed it kind of hard, Donna."

"Shut up."

Josh's eyes, voice and body softens. "You didn't deny it. Amy's claim."

Donna doesn't make any response. She just walks back out to her desk, and immediately calls maintenance again, even though it's late and nobody will be there. They have lives, and families, and they won't be here, but she calls anyway.

The open door is bothering her.

********

She leaves after that, drives home without paying any attention to the road, and arrives at her apartment with no recollection of getting there. It all seems to be like that, now. Once, there were clearly defined categories, Befores and Afters and Nows, and Thens, and places to get to, and places to go from, and all of it centred around Josh. Around them, and everything that mean.

There is no more `we', and no more definition.

But, because there's nothing else to do, Donna pulls her key out of the ignition, collects her stuff and walks up the flight of stairs to her apartment. There are messages on her phone. Her mother, from last Thursday, and Donna struggles to remember the last time she checked her messages. There's her sister with her breezy, happy voice, Stephanie, another friend, her mother again, this time more annoyed.

And a message from Josh.

"Donna. You'll - you'll get this when you arrive home. I was...well, there's that thing tomorrow night. You know, the fundraiser thing. And I can't remember if you're coming, but Amy and I aren't talking, and I need somebody to protect me from our contributors, so call me and tell me if you're coming."

Donna stops in the middle of the room and thinks. She collects the phone and presses speed dial one.

"That was pathetic," she says without preamble.

"You got my message?"

"Yes." Donna rolls her eyes, and remembers he can't see her. "You and I didn't have a fight, Josh. That was a make-up call, and we didn't have a fight. You need to call Amy and ask her to this thing."

"I don't want to talk to Amy," Josh whines. "We'll just fight."

"Not if you play nice and think before you open your mouth and let words falls out of it," Donna points out.

"Are you coming? I know you told me, but I really can't remember."

"I managed to weasel an invite out of you a few weeks ago. I claimed that you would need your assistant, so I'm coming for work."

Josh is silent. "You always come for work," he finally says. "You shouldn't have to work."

This is easier on the phone. She can be sharper. "Don't ask me out."

"I... I'm not."

"You are. You're going to... damn it, Josh, you're on the make."

"I... okay, I am," Josh admits defiantly.

Donna sighs again. "Call Amy. She's... she's probably waiting for you to call."

She hangs up.

And wakes up in the morning with no recollection of getting to her bed and sleeping. If she dreamed, she doesn't want to know about it.

********

Josh calls Amy and obviously thinks before opening his mouth - they go to the fundraiser thing together. Donna goes, too, in a plain black dress that she's worn a hundred times to a hundred different functions.

She answers Josh's phone and has pleasant conversations with some extremely powerful men who know her first name and her birthday, because they always send her flowers. She's the way to Josh. Donna reminds her boss who contributed what, and when, reminds him who's married to who, and who has a sons at Harvard, and daughters at Berkley. She drinks half a glass of champagne and straightens Josh's tie four times. The third time, he rests his hand on her waist and Donna waits five full beats before walking away.

Amy looks stunning in a red satin gown that's a designer label, matching shoes and bag bought for this occasion only. She laughs and has a fabulous time - she has at least three glasses of champagne, but it only makes her sparkle more. When she goes to straighten Josh's tie, he backs away from her and wrinkles his nose with annoyance.

Sam watches the three of them, watches them watch each other. Amy watches Josh. Josh watches Donna. Donna, the only rational one, lets her gaze wander and flicker and glide over everybody and does not let it settle on Josh for any longer than is strictly necessary.

Sam watches the way Josh's gaze lingers on Donna, caresses and holds too long, and Josh knows it, but doesn't stop it.

Amy sees it too, but her eyes only reflect, never reveal. Sam's loyalties lie, without conscious question, with Donna and Josh. But it must be hard for Amy, he thinks, to know that the thing you have isn't really yours.

Donna spends most of the night trying to blend into shadows and walls. She doesn't realize that she's too noticeable. Every man sees her: the silver-blonde hair, those long legs, willowy frame, enormous eyes - the simple grace of her, the way she seems to flow from place to place, the way she sparkles without false glamour.

Sam sees her, and knows that Josh is letting himself see her, for the first time. That Josh has finally woken up to something, because he's pushing this thing with his assistant like he's never pushed it before.

Halfway through the night, Sam looks across the room and freezes again.

Donna is standing on one foot. Her other leg is raised behind her, flamingo-like and Josh has his forefinger and thumb circled loosely around her ankle. His other hand is at Donna's elbow, helping her keep balance. His forefinger rubs the underside of her arm lightly. Donna's dress has crept up her thigh, reminding Sam just how fabulous Donna's legs are. Josh is standing close to his assistant - too close - his posture a trace of hers.

Josh seems to be looking at Donna's shoe.

He says something, asks something, because Donna looks over her shoulder at Josh and smiles. Soft lights catch her hair, there's a hollow between her neck and shoulder asking to be kissed, and the line of her body - the planes, dips, dales, curves - is absolutely breathtaking. There is a woman there, a woman beyond Josh's pale.

Sam's whole body freezes, but that moment - Josh's hand cupping her elbow, the line of Donna's body mirroring Josh's, their matching smiles - is possibly the most intimate thing he's ever seen.

When Sam subtly asks about Josh about it later, he shrugs and says that he was looking at Donna's new shoes. He wouldn't ever look at Amy's new shoes like that though, and Amy knows it.

As always, Lachlan Turner hits outrageously on Donna, drunkenly, and with even less subtlety than usual. Donna handles it gracefully, palming Turner off to his chauffeur with ease and some amusement. Turner won't remember, and it'll be another funny office story to tell.

Josh, however, gets seriously pissed about it, touching Donna's shoulder, standing too close, and holding on too long. And that makes Amy seriously pissed. She drags Josh onto the dance floor and whirls him around, barely letting Josh lead.

Donna leaves when Josh's head is turned.

********

And that's it, it seems.

There was a fundraiser, Donna's shoes, and Donna left when Josh wasn't looking, and she keeps moving just beyond his reach, and that seems to be it.

Josh and Amy live in a period of harmony, or a period as harmonious as it can be when they're both pigheaded, ornery jackasses.

The door is fixed, but there's a scar in the wood, below the top hinge. Josh sometimes stands in his doorway and fingers it. He doesn't say anything about it.

Donna does not feel anymore centred or defined, but there is work to be done, and people relying on her, and on Josh - so, really, on her - so she continues at the White House. She continues her job, well beyond the point of caring.

She and Amy continue to move around each other, friends, but not really friends. In another life, Donna wouldn't have exactly liked Amy, but they could have been sort-of friends, they could have laughed together and talked about politics and mutual acquaintances and respected something in each other. Here, in this so-called life, it will never happen.

They're linked by a man who's too frightened to make a choice so really, they're both waiting in the wings. And you can't do that without losing respect for the other woman. She reflects something of yourself. Some pathetic hope; some saddened expectation.

Sam watches Josh watch Donna, knowing that Toby is watching him. They are all watching each other, except Donna, who moves and works and knows better than to watch Josh. She is chary, now.

Seasons march on, and Congress too, and there are people and issues and summits and scandals and floods and hurricanes, and Ellie announces her engagement to a fellow med. student, much to her father's chagrin, and there is a world whirling out there, but in here, Donna is chary, Josh is willfully blind, Amy is a bit-part, and Sam is a voyeur.

And they are moving nowhere.

This will be it, Donna suddenly realizes, one morning, when she's standing at the photocopier.

This will be it, for her. She will be chary forever, because of a man called Joshua Lyman, a man she'll never have, a man Amy will never have, and Sam will always watch from the sidelines, and she will stand at a photocopier for the rest of her life.

The paper is warm against her hands as she stands there and contemplates a life spent living in caution. This will be it. This is all she'll ever have. When she returns to Josh's office with the photocopies, she knocks over his cup of coffee, black, inky liquid spreading everywhere, and when they move to clean it up, Josh somehow ends up with his arms around her.

But Donna pulls away, supposedly to find a cloth, but she flees to the women's bathroom and leans against the wall, throat tight, trying to catch her breath.

This will be it.

For the rest of the day, she's horribly rude to Josh, but after she leaves, he stands in his doorway and fingers that scar, following the grove with infinite care.

Donna is waiting for something. If Josh is going to make a choice, she's waiting for more than physical contact. She's waiting for some demonstrable, loud, large signal that he's made a choice, and it's her, and she can move away from the photocopier.

She knows she will never get it.

Donna goes to more parties in her black dress, and works in the corner of the room, plugging one ear with a finger to block out the music and chatter. She drinks half a glass of champagne, but no more, because she's working. She watches Josh and Amy dance and work the room and charm people.

She goes on a few dates, with guys who are not, and will never be serious. She's too cautious to be serious about anybody. These dates put Josh in a bad mood, and for weeks afterwards, he's rude and cold to her, and Amy's rude and cold to him, and Sam keeps watching.

And Donna will be at the photocopier forever.

But, quite suddenly, Josh kisses her, and the world falls over.

It's a late-night at the office. Donna's life now is one long, late- night at the office. Nights where everyone has gone home to something, and there's just an answering machine and a cold bed for her. Nights were she eats half her take-out and forgets the rest and she knows she's growing terribly thin.

Josh has commented on it, stood in the doorway of Sam's office and ran his hand up her ribcage, and called her a xylophone. Donna pressed her hand against his, trying to pull it away, but it ended up on her hip, his fingers flexing against her pelvic bone, and Josh's eyes were frighteningly possessive.

Sam had to say Josh's name before he stepped away.

But today hasn't been an unusual day. No major gaffes or problems. Just hard, demanding work, endless meetings, CJ spinning her beautiful webs from the podium, and negotiations for another useless crime bill, so Josh is disillusioned.

Leo was in a bad mood all day, for no reason, and Margaret sat at her desk rolling her eyes at everyone who dared to walk past.

Larry - or was it Ed? - broke a pipe in the men's bathroom, so the overwhelming number of male employees had to trudge over the East Wing to go to the toilet, and they spent the day bitching and moaning about it.

Josh and Amy had lunch, and Josh returned with a tight face. Sam and CJ spent the day quoting lines from *Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?* whenever they saw each other in the hallway. Sam makes a damn-fine Martha with the strident voice and all, and CJ is a bitter George, rattling on about history. At nine-thirty, whilst the four of them were in Josh's office, Toby pitched in as Honey and Donna nearly died laughing out in the bullpen.

The President is travelling tomorrow. Somewhere - Donna knows where, but she can't quite remember. He'll be back in two days anyway, and things will hurtle onwards without him. Things hurtle onwards without any of them, and this is something Donna discovered standing in front of the photocopier.

Donna had filed, hunted down memos, typed other memos, had lunch with the other assistants and let their chatter wander over her, flickering through her mind without lodging. She stood at the photocopier with the warm paper, re-tallied the figures on Josh's chalkboard, took phone calls all day and told people Josh was in a meeting.

But it's eleven-thirty at night - one of those formless, shapeless nights - and Donna's finished up some research on crime statistics that Josh needs right now. Josh needs everything right now. Josh apparently needs her right now. He stands closer than ever, and his half of their banter-flirty conversations is entirely flirty. He's pushing her, pushing her out of herself, out of her position in front of the photocopier, asking for something she's not sure she can give him anymore.

She's not sure she has it inside her anymore.

Donna takes the report into the cluttered, cramped office, thinking for the hundredth time that she needs to tidy it. Next week, he'll be out of the office all day, on the Hill, so she'll tidy it then. He'll mess it up again in five minutes, but Donna will keep tidying it, and he'll keep messing it up. She thought she was going to be something more - something shinier - but she's just a glorified cleaner, who endlessly photocopies documents.

But there is nothing unusual about this day. That's the thing that gets her. He's been shot, had a nervous breakdown at Christmas, the President revealed he had MS on national television and announced his re-election on the same night. The Justice thing fell apart; Simon Donovan was shot; the Stackhouse filibuster; the Calley thing; Mendoza's announcement and the party afterwards; victorious debates.

There have been other, innumerable, shitty days. There have been other, innumerable, wonderful days.

And he picks this one. This ordinary day.

Josh picks this day to stand up and stretch his arms, walk around the desk for the statistics, flick through them, glance at the numbers, ask a question, look up at her for the answer, freeze, and kiss her.

That's exactly how it happens. He kisses her - he's kissing her - and she's mentally thinking of the answer to the question. But she can't remember it. The question. Anything. Because his tongue is tracing her lower lip and the report has fluttered to the floor. And the answer seems unimportant anyway.

There are million things unfolding in Donna's mind right now.

And the only one that catches and stays is this: the door is wide open.

********

End

Sequel: The Answer

| << back | send feedback | The National Library |