Title: Having Delusions and Facing Facts Rating: PG-13 Summary: Josh faces some facts about Donna's love life Spoilers: Anything's game Disclaimers: Wells and Sorkin own them all. Feedback: Love it. Jengwilson9@cs.com Author's Notes: My first fan fic ever, so be kind I'm delusional. I live in a state of delusion; a constant state of delusion. One brought on by myself, one that I welcome. No, my delusion is not about my love for Donna, I'm well aware of that, have been for years. My delusions are regarding her dating life, or more to the point, her sex life. See, I know that Donna dates. I've been sabotaging them since the campaign, the first one. There have been lobbyists, lawyers, old college friends, grad students, an occasional waiter, and so on. But, with few exceptions, I've been able to delude myself into believing that although she dates, she's not having sex. I allow myself to believe that she's waiting until it's ok for us to be…well…together. Together, together. Even when she went back to Dr. Freeride, I deluded myself into believing that she didn't sleep with him. After all, she was only back for three weeks, and there was still pain there. She wasn't just going to jump right back into bed with him, and the he blew it, again. See how I do it? Delusions. There have been, however, those few times that I just couldn't justify my delusions. The first time I had to face facts was our third year in office. At this point, we'd been working together almost four years, including the campaign. And believing what I believed, and still do most of the time, Donna had been leading a celibate life up until this point. So, as you can imagine, being forced to admit that Donna had a sex life didn't sit well with me. His name was Cliff Calley The Republican. Most people just know him as Cliff or Cliff Calley, but I knew him as Cliff Calley The Republican. I couldn't deny that he and Donna had sex. He saw the diary; hell, he was in the diary. They had sex, no getting around it. Admittedly, I didn't handle this news well. In fact, I spent a year not handling it well. I've come to refer to that year as "The Amy Fiasco." And no, I don't know what "The Amy Fiasco II" was about, so let's not even go there. Just as I was ending "The Amy Fiasco" portion of my life, I had to face facts once again. It was right at the end of our fourth year in office, and Donna met Commander Wonderful. It's also worth mentioning that Commander Wonderful was a republican as well. Anyway…at first, I was able to continue on in my delusional life, but this relationship lasted for 2 months. It started the day before Thanksgiving and ended two days before the second inauguration. So this one wasn't a one-time thing like the Cliff Calley The Republican thing. Two months, including a holiday weekend trip to the Washington Inn. Bastard. Sorry, I'm still a little bitter. I'm happy to say, however, that this time I handled it better. Maybe it's because I had already been through it once, or maybe it's because there was no possible way of handling it worse, but I handled it better, and that's what's important. Now, I'm not saying I handled it great, because I didn't. First, I basically had a meltdown in front of Leo two days before Christmas. Twice. Then, three weeks later, I insinuated that Commander Wonderful might have requested a transfer to Italy to get away from Donna. But still, it was better than the "The Amy Fiasco." Ask Donna, she'd agree. After the transfer to Italy, which I didn't cause but wondered why I hadn't thought of it, over a year passed without having to face facts again. Yes, she still dated, and quite possibly, she had sex, but as long as there wasn't blatant proof, I allowed myself to believe that she was waiting. Well, today, blatant proof arrived from Gaza with flowers. I think I'm going to call this one Heathcliff On The Moor. I know; I'm quite clever. Anyway… I'm standing in Donna's hospital room while she's knocked out on painkillers, and I'm being forced to carry on a civil conversation with Heathcliff On The Moor. While he's babbling on about Gaza and peace in the Middle East, I'm doing math. The Codel had only been in Gaza 4 days when the explosion took place, so I'm guessing there was only one night of sex. Maybe two, but I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, seeing as I love her and all. So I'm standing here, hanging out with Donna's latest sex partner, and I'm wondering how I'm going to handle this news. There won't be another Amy Fiasco; there are no more Amy's for me. There won't be another meltdown; I have to be strong for Donna right now. I've got to handle this one better, and I have to face facts. It's time to stop deluding myself. This is going to keep happening. Probably not with Heathcliff On The Moor, but it is going to keep happening. She's going to have sex, if not with me, then with someone else. So, I either have to find a way to deal with it, or I have to make sure that it is with me. And there's my answer, that's how I handle it this time. I make sure that the next time Donna has sex she has it with me. I've laid the groundwork. I've flown across an ocean. Now, I just need a plan. A plan that includes Donna and me having sex, you know, after she gets out of the hospital and goes through a few months of physical therapy and her leg heals properly, and I convince her that she loves me and wants to spend the rest of her life sleeping with only me. Yeah, I'm going to need a plan all right, a good one. But first, I've got to get Heathcliff On The Moor out of here. He's just in the way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ok, I won't lie, that was exhilarating. Scary, but exhilarating. I just met with some guy, who as far as I knew could have had a bomb strapped to his chest. I feel a little bit like Sydney Bristow right now. Well, ok, maybe Vaughn. No, he's been a wuss all season. I know, I feel a little like Jack. He's older than me, much much older than me, but he's very cool, and the ladies like him. Just call me Jack Bristow. So, now I'm in a cab on the way back to the hospital to Donna, and I'm on a little bit of a Jack Bristow high. Time to get to work. The plan. I need a plan. A Jack Bristow get rid of Heathcliff On The Moor, convince Donna that I'm in love with her and she's in love with me, have lots of sex with Donna plan. Those are the steps to the plan: 1. Get rid of Heathcliff On The Moor. 2. Convince Donna that I'm in love with her. 3. Convince Donna that she's in love with me. 4. Have lots of sex with Donna So, step one: I've got to get rid of Heathcliff On The Moor. To tell the truth, I don't really get what he's doing here. I mean, he showed up for two hours today. Two measly hours. And let me point out that Donna slept for an hour and a half of those two hours. So anyway, he waltzes in with flowers, kisses her RIGHT in front of me, discusses a few people Donna wrote about in her e-mails, then sits there while she sleeps for an hour and a half. Then, just as she's about to wake-up, he asks if his being here is going to be an issue. HELL YES IT'S AN ISSUE. Now, of course, I didn't tell him that. I didn't tell him that I attempt to live life in a constant state of denial and that he ruined it. I didn't mention that while he'd been making small talk, I'd faced facts and decided that the next person (and only person) Donna was going to have sex with was me. And, believe it or not, I have a reason for not mentioning this. I know, I know. You think I'm being a chicken shit. A coward. A child. A pansy. And you have every reason to believe that. That's exactly what I've been for the last 6 years, but I don't think we should dwell on that right now. I have a reason and this is it: It's none of his damn business. See, he knows it's an issue on my part. He knows I want Donna. He said it himself, with his little flight comments. And sure, he acted as though he'd step back if I admitted to it being an issue, but I don't buy that for one minute. Instead, he'd go to Donna and tell her that I want him to go and ask what she wants. Then, Donna would be pissed as hell at me for trying to run off one of her gomers. She'd say that I don't have the right to get rid of him, and she'd be right. I'm not dating Donna, and therefore she can date, and unfortunately, have sex with, whomever she pleases. See that's his plan, but I won't fall for it. Who does he think he's dealing with? Now, I know that I just admitted to not having the right to get rid of him. Don't let that fool you into thinking I'm not going to. Get rid of him I mean. Oh, he's going. I just have to figure out how. But first, I have to go back to the "not getting him being here" thing. I know I'm backtracking, but I've got to re-visit this. Help me out here. I could be wrong, but didn't he and Donna have a fling? A fling doesn't usually require a follow-up phone call, much less a follow-up plane ride to another country. So, what exactly does he think is going to come of this? Is it possible that he fell in love with her in four days? Well, I fell in love with her in about four minutes, so, ya I guess it's possible. But still. He's, I don't know, British maybe, and has been living in Gaza for how long? What kind of long distance relationship does he think they're going to have? When she's hurting from physical therapy, is he going to be any help from Gaza? Ok, ok, back to the plan. The plan…the plan…the plan. Oh look, a flower shop. Hold on a sec. Ok, I'm back. I've got flowers. Lot's of pretty flowers. Roses, red ones, two dozen. Take that, Heathcliff On The Moor. Sure, he'll show up in the morning fresh and rested from a night's sleep in a hotel, freshly shaven with clean clothes on, no doubt smelling better than me. And maybe I can't compete with that, but I've got flowers. And they're better than his little "I got this at the gift shop on the way up" flower arrangement. Wait a minute. That's it. That's how I get rid of Heathcliff On The Moor. That's the plan. I'm a genius! Like I said, he'll show up in the morning fresh and rested from a night's sleep in a hotel, freshly shaven with clean clothes on, no doubt smelling better than me. By morning, I will look like crap. I mean, I'm going to look bad. Really bad. But that's fine. That's better than fine. I don't have to get rid of him; he'll leave on his own. I can't tell him that his being here is an issue, but I can sure as hell show him. I'm the one who won't leave. I'm the one who sat up all night in a chair in the hospital room last night and will do the same tonight while he's checked into a hotel. I'm the one who's going to continue to sit in that chair all night every night until she's out of the woods. I'm the one who hasn't slept, changed, shaven, eaten, or even showered. I'm the one who flew over here without so much as a toothbrush. Although, I might stop at the gift shop and get one. That's just gross. I'm going to be so attentive of her, he's simply going to know. In the morning, I'm going to start getting phone numbers for physical therapists, I'm going to make sure her apartment and bills are paid up for the month, hell, I'll even make sure someone waters the damn plants! And once Donna's mom gets here, the two of us are going to sit down and discuss what happens when Donna gets back to the US. I'll offer, beg even, to have her stay with me. And Heathcliff On The Moor is going to see all of this. He's going to see what Donna and I have. I'm not going to have to say a word about it. He's going to know. Just the way everyone else knows. Just the way Donna and I know. It doesn't have to be discussed, it simply is. And he can't tell Donna that I want him to go, because I'm not going to tell him to go. I'm going to be far too busy giving all my attention to her. He's going to see all of this, and he's going to know that he has no place in it. He's going to know that she's going to need this kind of attention for months, and that he's not going to be the one to give it to her, and he's going to kiss her on the cheek and leave. And that, my friends, is going to be the end of Heathcliff On The Moor. And once he's gone, I can move on to step two. The End