********

So Josh comes bounding into CJ's office one Thursday morning, poised to make some brilliantly witty comment about the certain passage of the Family Wellness Act and the shoes his mother sent him, when he notices CJ's crying. This makes him more uncomfortable than he can articulate, but CJ's a friend, and he feels obligated to try to help. "CJ? What's wrong?" he asks, dropping into her visitor's chair.

She looks up him with red-rimmed eyes. "Leo and I broke up."

And because Josh Lyman is not known for his tact, he blurts, "A month ago."

She stares at him, and he has the grace to drop his eyes. "Forgive me if it took a while to hit me, Josh," she says. "We can't all get over our relationships as quickly as you."

The deputy flicks an imaginary piece of lint off his burgundy tie and notes, apropos of less than nothing, that his fingernails could stand a trim. She's talking about Mandy, of course. No one understands that that relationship was over long before it ended. He peeks at CJ, who's gone back to working and crying silently, disregarding the tears that splash onto her calendar. "I'm sorry, CJ," he says quietly.

"It's...yeah, Josh; forget it." She shrugs shallowly, barely enough to disturb the shoulders of her sleek gray jacket.

"You know what you need?" he asks suddenly, thrilled to have found a way to help a good friend and dislodge himself from a damned unpleasant situation all at once. CJ looks at him, waiting. "A woman."

To his great astonishment, the press secretary blushes. "Christ, Josh. College was a long time ago. I haven't--"

"To talk to!" he interrupts, squeaking a bit. "I meant, you need to talk to a woman about the...situation. With Leo."

CJ's blush deepens. "Ah," is all she can say.

Josh leans forward eagerly, elbows on her desk. "But did you -- I mean, did you really...in college?"

"Get out of my office, Joshua."

He stands, new respect for CJ growing in him. "All right," he says, "I'm going. But I'm going to tell Donna she should come talk to you. Unless -- I mean, that's okay, right?"

CJ's on the verge of telling him no, but he looks so darned puppy-dog cute, standing there like he really wants to help -- as long as there's no actual sharing of emotions while he's in the room -- so she sighs and says, "Sure. If she's got a minute."

He grins. "I'm her boss, CJ," he reminds her. "She has a minute if I say she does."

CJ groans. "I cannot believe she's put up with you as long as she has."

"She relishes the opportunity to work closely with such a handsome, powerful man."

"Since when is Donna working closely with Toby?"

Josh glowers and leaves the office. She hears him bellowing for his assistant as she pretends to return to her work. She isn't kidding herself, but it seems to be working on everyone else.

It might be nice to talk to Donna about this. Despite occasionally sharing rooms on the campaign trail, CJ and Donna aren't close, something CJ thinks might work in her favor -- a fresh perspective from someone who doesn't know her well enough to say what they think she wants to hear. Donna is also extremely perceptive, and she must have the patience of twelve saints to put up with Josh Lyman's crap.

Doesn't hurt any that Donna is beautiful.

Not that this is something CJ spends much time pondering. She tucked those feelings away after college (the world, after all, is not like Berkeley), and now that she's the President's press secretary she can't exactly charge around making fair maidens swoon.

When someone knocks on her door, CJ expects Josh again, telling her that Donna has -- wisely -- told him where to shove it. Instead, it's Donnatella in the flesh. "CJ?" she asks hesitantly, "Josh said you wanted to talk to me?"

CJ laughs and waves her in. "Well, technically, he wanted me to talk to you," she says, "but somehow that works out to the same thing, in his head."

The slender blond cocks her head to the side and considers this. "Um, okay. If you want me to go, I'll--"

"No," CJ interrupts, "you can stay. If you want."

Donna gives her a smile that's maybe a little shy, or a little coy, or maybe is just a smile, and settles into the chair. "I have a minute before the dork discovers how little he can function without me."

CJ understands that. Donna is a confident, take-charge woman who has transformed Josh from a scatter-brained twit to a scatter-brained twit with a good filing system. Unbidden, the press secretary wonders if the aura of control Donna exudes is solely work-related, or if it comes through in other areas of her life, as well. She shakes that image out of her mind and taps her pen lightly against the desk. "So...I'm sure you know why Josh wanted me to talk to you."

Donna nods. "You started talking about your emotions, and he flipped."

"Yeah." CJ looks at her goldfish, envying it intensely. To have the biggest decision of your day be whether to swim clockwise or counterclockwise...."How does Marbury put up with it?" she wonders aloud.

"By being completely insane." They laugh.

"And it doesn't...bother you ever?" CJ asks before she can stop herself. "The two of them?" Donna quirks her eyebrow. "I mean, you and Josh--"

"There was never a me and Josh. We enjoy harassing each other, but he was just trying to -- no, it doesn't bother me." Donna leans minutely forward. "Is this about Leo?" CJ closes her eyes and nods, relieved that she won't have to say it. "CJ, I know how hard it can be to talk about these things, so if you don't want to--"

"Thank you, Donna. I appreciate that. I know I need to talk about it eventually, but I'm not done being angry about it, and hurting about it. But I'd love it if we could spend some more time together." And, seeing the assistant's eyebrows lower skeptically, she rushes to amend herself: "I mean, like this. Talking about...other things. Being girls."

Donna favors her with a wide smile. "I'd like that, too. Are you free tonight?"

The press secretary checks her calendar. "Surprisingly, I am. There won't be any big news until tomorrow, when Family Wellness passes, so I'm open." Maybe that doesn't sound so good. Well, no way to take it back now.

Donna grins and stands. "Great. I might not get done 'til late; Josh is in meetings for the rest of the day, trying to get the final version of the bill put together, but as soon as he springs me..."

"I'll be here," CJ promises, and Donna leaves the office, humming to herself.

"Well?" Josh demands, hunting frantically around his office for a folder that's neatly filed exactly where it should be, if he would ever bother to learn the filing system.

"Well, what?" his assistant returns.

"Well, where the hell are the autism stats? And well, did you talk to CJ?"

Groaning and yanking open a drawer, Donna hands Josh the file he needs. "The autism funds aren't going to make it into the bill, are they?" she asks.

"Probably not. Don't evade the question."

"'Evade?'" Donna asks, amused. "I'm not evading anything."

"Yes, you are. I asked about CJ."

"Oh, that." Is it Josh's imagination, or does Donna blush a little there? "Yeah, we talked some."

"And?"

"And that is a personal matter between women, Josh."

"Don-na," he whines.

"There was a lot of discussion of feelings, Joshua."

His face falls. "Oh. Never mind." He takes his autism folder and dashes from the room, whether to make his meeting or escape discussion of emotions, she can't tell -- and doesn't much care. She has a date with CJ Cregg.

Not a date, of course, but enough of one to set Donna's mind wheeling down the treacherous road of interoffice romance. She's entertained the odd passing thought of CJ since they met, but she works in the White House, and if nothing else her frazzling schedule isn't conducive to clandestine romance -- and Donnatella Moss knows how clandestine a romance between the press secretary and another female White House employee would have to be. Shit. Who's she kidding? It's impossible to keep secrets in this damned place. Leo and CJ had been together less than a month before people found out about them, and even the much more closely guarded rumor of Josh and the ambassador is starting to make the rounds. No, the only way to stay out of trouble is not to get your hands sticky in the first place. Donna sighs a very unprofessional sigh and goes back to work.

*********

At ten o'clock, Donna raps on CJ's door and peeks her head around. "Hey, CJ. Ready to go?"

The press secretary eyes her clock. "It's only ten. Are you really done?"

"Sure," Donna replies smoothly. "Josh called; his meeting's not going to end for another hour at least, so I might as well take off."

CJ isn't sure she believes that, but she wants out of here so badly she's willing to fall for anything. Grabbing her coat off the chair, she comes around to the front of the desk, beaming at Donna. "Let's roll," she says.

There's a terrific Greek restaurant about a half a mile from the White House that even a couple of federal employees can afford. The hostess shows them to a table that doesn't feel the least bit romantic, and CJ forces herself to remember that tonight isn't supposed to be romantic. Donna's here to help her get over her break-up; it's not a date. Still, CJ can't help but be disappointed by the way every light seems to focus at their table, and that they're in the direct path of the wait staff.

And in the end it's the stupidest damned thing; the way the waitress pours water reminds her of the way Leo pours water, and it comes flooding out of her, in a wave of pain and regret she hadn't known was inside her. She tells Donna everything. They fell -- almost literally -- into a relationship the night after she returned from her humiliating trip to Portland. He wouldn't touch her in the office. He never told Mallory about them. He blamed her for the bizarre and unforeseeable incident that tipped people off to their relationship. "I left him," she says; "I couldn't live with the sneaking around anymore. But that can't keep me from hurting."

The whole time this is rushing from her mouth, uncontrollably, sometimes incoherently, Donna keeps nodding and making quiet soothing noises. But they're not the kind of noises you're "supposed" to make when someone's spilling their guts to you; they're the kind you make when you really do empathize; when you've been down in the same mud.

When CJ finishes the story, the analysis, the self-blame and the Leo-blame, she drains her water in one long swallow, at once so heartrending and sensuous Donna has to look away. But it's over for CJ. The pain she's been lugging around with her like a dead carp, the remorse that's been sewn into her back like a label on a shirt -- it's gone. She can move forward now, and she realizes she has no idea where forward is anymore.

Into the needle-sharp silence that follows, Donna feels somehow compelled to make this offer: "I know you don't need advice or someone else's hard-luck story, but would it help any if I told you the story of my worst break-up ever?"

"Even worse than Dr Freeride?" CJ blurts, then, when Donna blushes and looks away again, blushes herself. "I wasn't supposed to know about that, was I?"

Donna brushes the question aside. "It's okay," she says. "At the time I told Josh about it I didn't realize he couldn't keep a secret to save his life, but it's not a big deal. Yes, this is much worse."

"Then by all means, bare your soul on the altar," CJ intones, then realizes how macabre that sounds and resolves not to say anything more for the rest of the evening.

"This was way back in high school," Donna starts, and CJ is transfixed by the way the younger woman's hands make small, nervous gestures, so unlike the broad, sweeping ones the press secretary is given to. "Jess was in college, brilliant and gorgeous, so I thought I was absolutely the shit. We were together for nearly a year, and I thought I was in love. I mean, I'm sure I was, but I convinced myself the feeling was returned. Until the day I had to hitch a ride from my brother and he had to be at his buddy's house for practice - he was in this godawful garage band -- so he dropped me at Jess's an hour before she was exp-"

"An hour before she was expecting you?"

Donna's eyes squeeze tight. "Oh, my god. Did I -- shit." She sits perfectly motionless, eyes shut, perhaps hoping CJ will forget she's there.

CJ leans forward and places her hand lightly over Donna's. "Just when you thought you had the pronoun game down cold, right?"

Donna's eyes fly open, and she gives CJ a shocked and grateful smile. "Yes," she whispers. "So I come into Jess's apartment -- she never locked the door, and--" her voice stumbles.

"And find her in bed with another woman," CJ finishes kindly.

Donna shakes her head no. "A man. My...the high school symphony conductor. It t--" For a minute CJ thinks she won't be able to go on. "They'd been together at least six months before she asked me out. It turns out he had told her to approach me because he thought I 'had low self-esteem and the attentions of a beautiful older woman might do wonders' for me."

"My god, that's awful." CJ stares at her, stunned. This is the most gut-wrenching personal revelation she's been entrusted with, and she thinks about how she'd like to kiss the pain right on out of this beautiful woman. "So..." her voice sounds scratchy, alien, so she clears her throat and starts again. "So you...are you..." She's not sure what she wants to ask, because she's not sure what she wants to hear.

"Oh, I date men," Donna says, as casually as she would say she's owned Capri pants, "but I'm less into it than you could imagine. I date men because I am the assistant to the White House deputy chief of staff, and because...fuck; I can't even remember why some days."

"And the infamous Dr Freeride?"

Donna almost smiles. "A disastrous experiment in the heterosexual suburban fantasy instigated and perpetuated by my mother."

"Shit." CJ leans back in her chair and digests this totally unexpected piece of information. Her evening is cast in an entirely new light. "Does Josh know?" she asks.

"Yeah. Not for very long, though. It was--" she laughs. "Apparently, it was the night before you and Leo got together -- the night Josh had his meeting with Matt Skinner on the Marriage Recognition Act?" CJ nods. "I had a date. Another loser I couldn't have cared less about, though of course I talked him way the fuck up around the office. When the evening -- surprise, surprise -- was a total flop, Josh lit into me again about my 'revolving door of local Gomers,' and asked me why I wasted time on men like that. I didn't realize he'd finally pushed me to my breaking point until I started yelling at him. And I told him, 'I waste my time on men like that because my current position doesn't permit me to pursue the women I'd like to.'"

"Ouch." CJ shakes her head. "What did he say?"

Donna laughs. "For the first time, the great orator that is Joshua Lyman was speechless."

"Really? That's...that's unbelievable."

She nods. "Then, of course, he got over himself and told me about..."

"About his predilection for certifiably insane British noblemen?"

"And Sam."

CJ bangs her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Donna, please. The campaign was difficult for us all; let's not relive the lowlights of the 'Josh and Sam Wheel of Angst.'"

Donna frowns. "That was before my time. What went wrong with the two of them? I would've thought they'd be great together."

"They would have been, if they could've gotten it together, but they were too messed up to -- you know, I so badly do not want to talk about that tonight."

Donna shrugs and sips her wine. "What do you want to talk about?"

What changes at that instant, neither one could ever say. A shift in the lighting, perhaps, or the unnoticed presence of the check at CJ's elbow clearing the last obstacle to their departure. But CJ looks at Donna, and Donna doesn't look away, and when CJ says, "I don't feel like talking anymore," Donna swallows hard and feels a rivulet of sweat trickle down her back and into the waistband of her panties, which she's suddenly too aware of, but she doesn't look away even then.

When they get back to CJ's swanky apartment, which she's always felt is a little pretentious, she thanks God for it, because it's clean and looks damned impressive. Of course it's clean because CJ's seldom in it, but that couldn't matter less when she locks the door behind them.

Donna roams the apartment, picking things up and setting them back down without looking at them. She drifts from room to room, and CJ stands with her back to the door, watching every move the other woman makes. Every time she has to pass the door Donna's more relaxed, like she likes CJ's eyes on her; she moves more gracefully, seductively, and her touch lingers over the objects she's not paying attention to.

And CJ has thought of herself as the seductress in this scenario; the wise older woman luring the shy young novitiate into her lair. But now she realizes she's had it exactly backwards, and that she's going to be the one who loses it first, so she goes ahead and lets herself lose it, grabbing Donna on her next pass and bending her backwards into a hard kiss. Donna responds instantly, forcing CJ's mouth open, and she tastes like Merlot and dark chocolate, and CJ thinks she might forget how to think.

CJ had feared she was overdressed for tonight, but now she figures she must have been nearly naked, Donna gets her clothes off her so fast. And when the younger woman leads her into her own bedroom, CJ tries to figure out when she lost control of the situation and whether she cares. Her strangled moan when she comes, Donna's fingers long and talented inside her and Donna's tongue rough against her nipple, is just barely the other woman's name, and Donna's long, shuddering gasp when she comes hours later, wet against CJ's tongue, is enough to send CJ over the edge again herself.

The press secretary's last thought before she drifts into sleep, her arms draped across an already-slumbering tangle of blond and alabaster, is that she doesn't give a damn if Donna is still here when she wakes up. She's here now, and CJ can't remember the last time she had that.

**********

CJ can't help smiling as she closes the door to Josh's office the next morning and drops into his guest chair. From the flush on his face and the overly-casual way he's rearranging paperweights and letter openers on his desk, she can tell Lord Marbury's just thoroughly phone-fucked him, and now she's about to thoroughly mind-fuck him. "So," she says, as nonchalantly as she can manage, "there might be a thing."

He looks at her, trying to decide if this is a thing he knows or cares about, then remembers her plans with Donna. "Oh?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't your evening go well?"

She blushes. "It went exceedingly well. We had dinner; I spilled my guts about Leo; she spilled hers about various romantic disasters, and then we slept together." She waits.

"You -- ah -- oh, my." And for the second time ever, the great orator that is Joshua Lyman is speechless. "Did you -- are you..." Totally stumped, he stalls out. "Wow." He searches his friend's face. "So, is this going to be a thing?"

Her eyes bug. "Josh, what was the first thing I said when I came in here?"

"I don't think we're talking about the same 'thing.'"

"Well, that was bound to happen eventually. I meant a press scandal. A PR nightmare. What did you mean?"

"A relationship." He says it almost boyishly.

Turmoil rages in CJ. She doesn't know if it's a relationship. She doesn't know if she wants it to be. Sure, Donna was still in her bed when she woke up this morning, but does that mean anything? They didn't have time to talk about it -- they timed it that way. She starts to say she isn't sure when the door opens, and Donna brings in a thick, ominous file and a coffee mug.

"Good morning, Josh. CJ."

"You brought me coffee?" he asks, his forehead creased. Coffee from his assistant means bad things on the horizon.

Donna grins, exactly like a cat, and CJ licks her lips. "No, Joshua. I brought you this file." It lands on his desk with a sinister thunk. "The coffee is for CJ." She hands over the mug, and their fingers brush for a second too long, then the press secretary is blushing and murmuring her thanks. This makes the third time Donna's touched her since they got to the office. "By the way, Josh, Senator Stackhouse called again. He really wants to talk to you."

"Keep taking messages," Josh instructs.

"Okay. But he seems pretty upset about something."

He waves it off. "I'll get to it eventually. Honest."

"I believe you, Josh," she assures him. "I'm going to get back to work now." She smiles at CJ and leaves the office, shutting the door softly behind her.

CJ blows on her coffee. "Now, where were we?" she asks.

"Never mind. You answered my question."

Now CJ remembers what Josh's question was, and she sits up, sloshing coffee onto the floor. "Josh--"

"Uh uh. I may be oblivious some of the time -- all right, I may be oblivious a lot of the time -- but I saw that, and I know what it was."

CJ leans back. She really wants to hear this one, because she's trying to decide for herself what that was. "And what was it, oh wise one?"

"It was a relationship. It was the kind of thing you do with the person you go home with every night, the one who doesn't mind you using their toothbrush and telling a few harmless jokes about their relatives."

"You've been making cracks about the house of Windsor again."

Josh squirms. "We aren't talking about me, Claudia Jean. We're talking about you and Donna."

"You are now presuming there is a 'me and Donna,'" CJ says defensively, scalding her tongue on a too-large gulp of coffee.

"There's nothing to presume, CJ!" He can't believe she's being this stubborn. "She's obviously nuts about you, and you're obviously ready to jump her right here in the west wing. So, yeah, there's a you and Donna." CJ says nothing, and Josh bounces the eraser end of his pencil off the ugly file Donna gave him. "Whatever I can do to help -- hey! I've got it. There's tons of people around who expect me to hook up with Donna, right?"

"Well, there were. I don't know anymore; people are starting to talk about you and Marbury."

This gets him for a minute. "We haven't heard anything."

"Of course not, Josh," CJ says. "You never share good gossip with the person it's about."

He grins. "This is even better, then. What if I pretend to be involved with Donna?"

"Wow. What a stunningly awful idea."

"No! Don't you see? It's perfect." Josh is totally enthusiastic about this now. "Allays suspicions about John and me and keeps people from paying too close attention to Donna."

"It's a bad idea, Josh," she says firmly.

"Actually, it's a great idea, CJ." Josh and CJ look up. Donna is standing in the doorway. "For everybody."

CJ stands and crosses to her. She wishes they had a chance to talk about this in private, unhurried, but Josh is not a patient man; he's going to want his answer right now. "Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure, CJ," Donna says, taking her hands. "If people think I'm dating Josh, they'll stop paying attention to my love life."

She frowns. "It feels like more sneaking around."

Donna nods sadly. "Unfortunately, it is. But this is even more sensitive than you and Leo."

"I know that, but--"

"It's not forever, CJ," Donna promises.

"How long, then?" she demands.

Donna hangs her head. "Until the world's a better place, I guess."

And CJ almost says no, almost tells Donna that they'll do this honestly or they won't do it at all, but she knows that's not fair. More than that, she knows she doesn't want to say anything that will take Donna out of her life. So she shrugs and gives in. "Okay then. Pretend away. But Josh--" She glares at her friend, and he shifts away slightly, "try anything funny and I will flatten you, all right?"

Josh salutes flippantly. "Yes, ma'am!"

"Thank you, CJ," Donna whispers. "This will make things easier, I promise."

CJ nods. "Yeah. I guess. But only until the world's a better place I'm holding you to that."

Donna grins. "Not a second longer."

And CJ knows there's something unbelievably depressing about this entire conversation, but she's starting to think that, for Donna, maybe she can wait that long.