Drowning in Fountain Spray
Rating: PG
Archive: Just let me know where
Feedback: Is most welcome, lina_wilson@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I just make them dance
Summary: “Can’t even live up to my footwear.” (Josh/Donna)
Note: This is a post ep to *War Crimes*. I actually didn’t want to write a post ep for that episode, because I have a feeling that there’s a few of them around. This story, however, bugged me for three straight days until I wrote it!

~*~

He was here because it was his idea, his plan and he wanted to see it enacted. He was here because his word meant a lot in this town, he was a notorious hard player and people listened when he spoke. He was here to protect her from herself, to make a simple swap and plant a fear in both of them. He was here to ensure this would never happen again.

She was here because he said she had to be. She was here to provide some legitimacy to this whole dirty little operation, to prove that this was real, even if it wasn’t right. She was here because he was pissed with her, and this had become her punishment, the tearing of secrets from her in a simple passing from one hand to another.

The air was becoming crisp, with a bite that nibbled at fingers and ear tips and noses. Josh’s arm rested on the back of the bench, but Donna didn’t move. She was stunned, by the cold, by her own stupidity, by the depth of secrets she had just given away. The fountain continued to bubble merrily, its cold spray occasionally catching the wind and flying through the air. Donna wrapped her arms around herself and got to her feet.

“You don’t really need me to stay here.” The words seemed to be wrapped in thick cotton wool as they left her mouth. “You can come to my place and bring it to me when he comes . . .” She stared at her feet as her words were drowned in the fountain spray. Her shoes were sensible and inexpensive and she felt entirely the opposite. Stupid for sleeping with the guy in the first place, expensive because she could have cost the Presidency, and this exercise was so risky. She was angry and ashamed and feeling as if she’d left her shoes down. “Can’t even live up to my footwear.” She muttered inaudibly.

Josh just nodded. This felt as bad as it was dodgy: secret meetings and park benches. He felt dirty and angry and worried and sad and he knew that the fifty-five minutes until Cliff returned would feel like an eternity. He watched Donna walk away, her head pointed straight ahead and he knew from the hold of her chin that she was trying not to cry.

She had almost cried earlier, when he came to tell her that he had an idea. Her eyes had been large and worried, and he hated himself for being so angry with her. He had taken her out to his car and outlined his plan of action. She hadn’t given her opinion immediately, instead she looked out onto the damp sidewalk. When she turned back to him and nodded, her eyes were watery and dull.

He had driven them to her apartment. Donna’s place was familiar to him, he’d been here many times, for many reasons. But now he felt awkward and oversized, afraid to move around too much in case he broke things. Things, like the delicate bond they had just rebuilt between them. Donna disappeared into her bedroom for a moment and came out clutching a small book.

“Why don’t you sit on the couch, Josh?”

He didn’t protest. They had time to spare, and Donna was clearly worried about this. He moved a floral cushion and a cotton blanket to the side of the sofa and sat down, his mouth grim and his eyes fearful. Without taking her eyes from him, Donna settled into the arm chair across from him.

“This is my diary.” She held up the book. “And these are the pages you asked for.” In her other hand she grasped an envelope. Josh took the envelope from her shaking hand and glimpsed inside: folded paper covered in Donna’s handwriting. Josh sealed the envelope and stuck it in his coat pocket.

“You write neater in your diary than you do for me.” He joked. When she refused to smile, he pointed at the book. “Is that all?”

She nodded. “I’ve only been keeping it for a little while.” She rolled the book over in her hands. “You know that I’ve written about Christmas?”

The slight smile disappeared from is face and the room seemed to spin around him. The only people outside the White House who knew about his break down were his therapist and his mother. The idea of his own personal Christmas story becoming public scared him to death. “Anything else?”

Donna shook her head. “I don’t really tend to write about work.”

He took the diary from her. It was light and he found that surprising considering the hefty secrets that were shuddering inside. They had walked in silence to the park at the end of the street, taking their assigned place in front of the fountain, sitting in the chilled air, waiting for Cliff.

Now he was waiting alone, as Donna waited in her apartment and Cliff read in the bright, warm cafe. Josh wondered what Donna was doing, whether she was cooking dinner, or cleaning, or reading. Maybe she was looking out the window, waiting for him to return with her precious diary. He wasn’t sure how he would pass time if he was in her shoes.

He looked at his watch. Cliff still had forty-five minutes, which was plenty of time to search out a good coffee. But he was disinclined to move in case Cliff returned early. He wanted to be here the moment the bastard returned, wanted to return the diary as soon as possible, wanted to make sure Donna was okay.

Josh wasn’t sure who deserved the blame for this whole affair. Donna, of course, lied under oath and the heft of the blame would land on her shoulders. But Cliff shouldn’t have been poking around her place in the first place. And the Republicans shouldn’t have been so prying, asking such personal questions. But if the President had told the truth in the first place then there wouldn’t be any inquiries at all. There were millions of places to throw blame, Josh decided, but if Cliff didn’t talk, then the only one who would be hurt by this would be Donna.

He filled the remaining minutes with nervous wonderings and bursts of anger. He paced the rain-tipped grass, and trailed his fingers through the fountain. Periodically he turned to stare at the cafe, telling himself that he would be able to see when Cliff was returning. But the truth was that the cafe was too far away and his eyes were sore.

Cliff returned while Josh was sitting on the park bench. The Republican stood in front of him and held out the diary. “It’s okay.” He said, and Josh wondered if the guy was smirking at him now that he had found his weakness. He took the diary and stood up to face Cliff.

“October 4th and 5th.” He warned patting his coat pocket. Cliff nodded and took off, his head lowered against the growing wind. Josh sighed, he felt as if years had passed in the last few hours. He tucked the diary in his jacket and trudged in the opposite direction to Cliff, towards Donna’s apartment.

Donna must have been waiting near the window, because the door was unlocked when he arrived. He let himself in, enjoying the warmth, making sure to lock the door behind him. “You really shouldn’t do that you know.”

“Yeah.” Donna came out of the kitchen and settled herself into her arm chair. Josh grinned; his assistant was clad in flannelette PJ’s with tiny images of Elmo all over them. She had a glass of wine sitting on the coffee table, with an open carton of chocolate ice cream sitting next to that. In her hand, she clasped something that was definitely more scoop, than spoon.

“Is that a private party, or can I join in?” Josh asked.

Donna looked up at him. “Have you got something for me?”

He held out her diary. “He said it was okay.” Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out the sealed envelope and placed it on top of the diary. “And I don’t think I’m going to need this.”

She took the items in both hands and tucked them in beside her. As she looked up at him again, her relief was obvious. “Pull up a seat.”

Josh sat on her sofa and pulled his shoes off. “I like the PJ’s.”

She smiled. “I have Tweety Bird as well. But Elmo makes me smile more.” She gestured at the gluttony evident in front of her. “Would you like a glass?”

Josh shook his head. “I’ve got to drive home. I can help you on the ice cream, though.”

“How will you keep your figure, Joshua?” Donna got to her feet and headed to the kitchen, while his spirits rose with the use of his full name.

“Well you know, I might need to work out tomorrow.” He patted the cushion next to him, smiling as she sat at the other end of the sofa. “Donna, it’s going to be okay.”

She handed him the spoon and took a long sip of her wine. “Josh, I’m really sorry about all this. I didn’t want to tell you about Cliff because I was annoyed with myself and the whole investigation thing.”

“Hey.” Josh leant forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know I shouldn’t tell you this. But I think they would have subpoenaed your diary, and you know that everything would have been made public. Cliff would have been caught up in it too, all three of us would have suffered. This is probably better.”

Donna leant her head on his hand and he ran a piece of hair through his fingers. He felt a tear falling onto his skin and pulled her towards him. “I’m sorry.” She said through her tears. “I didn’t want to cry tonight. I just wanted to indulge in my ice cream and get cheerfully sozzled.”

Josh cuddled Donna into his chest, holding her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. “It’s okay. Cry all you like.” He bowed his head down to whisper in her ear. “I can stay the night if you like.”

She looked up at him, and he waggled his eyebrows at her in a mock attempt at flirting. Slowly a smile grew on her face. “I thought we were trying to avoid scandal, Josh Lyman.”

“Damn.” Josh pouted. “I thought I’d make a good character in a sex scandal.”

Donna laughed and adjusted herself so that she was lying against him. It seemed as if she was asleep in seconds, her hair gently tickling his nose. Observing how peaceful she looked, Josh leant forward and kissed her forehead. Then he covered her with the blanket and picked up the ice cream from the table. He didn’t want to disturb her, not when she looked so relaxed, and he could think of worse ways to send the night. They had solved the diary problem, Cliff was satisfied, and he was left with Donna asleep in his arms, and a half full carton of ice cream to finish. The way things were going at the moment, this counted as one of the better days.