SpoilingForAFight

Author: Liza C.

Title: Spoiling for a Fight at Midnight

Beta'ed: By Kim

Post ep: The Ticket

Whoever said that silence is golden, was an idiot.

Silence sucks. Silence allows for introspection. Silence

invites memories, not all of them good. Silence reminds

us that we really are all alone in this world. Silence was

the last thing that Josh Lyman needed.

Quiet reigned over the Santos/McGarry headquarters,

because currently the campaign manager was the only

one there. These people he had surrounded himself

with had no idea what it took to make a man President.

They also had no idea of the kind of dedication required

once you got there. He rubbed his eyes as he stared at

the dry-erase board in front of him. The words started

to blur and run together.

"You're not used to me being in a position of authority."

In the silence, those words, her words—actually, their

entire conversation-- ran through his head as part of an

unending torturous cycle. He'd been fine during the day

when the place was a bustle, when he was needed at

every moment to formulate a response for a new crisis.

But in the night, in the silence, he couldn’t shake her

voice.

A swirling pit had been stewing in his stomach since the

ill-fated interview. But he didn't have time to think

about why it was there. At least that's what he told

himself. It was almost midnight on the day after she'd

come to see him. The interview had taken place… about

33 hours prior. The fact that he knew that didn't give

him pause, but it should have. He hadn't slept more

than a couple of hours since then and he was pretty

sure it wasn't time to start now.

The ding of the elevator broke him out of his daze.

When he glanced up, he was certain that his mind was

playing tricks on him.

Because she was there. Walking towards him.

***

Donna was angry.

But that hadn't been the case when she'd left

Santos/McGarry headquarters the prior day after her

disastrous "job interview." Then she'd been hurt and

humiliated. She'd kept her emotions in check until

she'd arrived at the Metro. Thankfully, no one on the

train had talked to her or asked her what was wrong.

The dark sunglasses probably helped with that. She

never lost it, but there were definitely a few tears and

one or two dejected sniffles.

Of all the potential outcomes she'd spun in her mind

before going to see Josh for a job, the scenario that

actually played out… hadn't been among them. She was

shocked. In her mind, the worst case scenario was that

he would have offered her something… less than what

she was applying for, like as his assistant or something.

But a 'no?' He might as well have said, "Don't let the

door hit your ass on the way out." She hadn't expected

that, but she probably should have. She knew him

better than anyone.

By the time she'd made it home, she was done feeling

sorry for herself. There would be no breakdown. No

crying, wailing or gnashing of teeth, although she did

indulge in ice cream. What situation wasn't made a little

less bleak by the liberal application of Häagen-Dazs

Chocolate Chocolate Chip? And she needed this

situation to look less bleak… badly.

She was angry at herself for her pitiful performance the

day before. She was angry that she'd let it get to this

point. She was angry that she still needed validation

from him. She was angry at him for being so obviously

tied in knots and pretending that he wasn't. She was

angry at the situation… and at the world. She was

angry, but she was also pragmatic.

That night she hadn't slept. Her mind kept racing,

playing the embarrassing scenario of the interview again

and again in her head. She had to do something. An

ending, a beginning… something. Everyone has their

breaking point and yesterday, she'd reached hers.

***

She lucked out that the security guard on duty was ex-

Secret Service. A guy who had burned out after his

involvement at Rosslyn, but who therefore knew exactly

who she was and what she was to Josh. She was glad

someone did, because she certainly didn't.

Had that not been the case she had no idea whether she

would have had the guts to call him and ask for

permission to come up, so the security guard knowing

her was one less hurdle she had to face. When she

stepped off the elevator, she saw him immediately. All

the lights on the floor were dim, save for those in the

center conference room where he was apparently still

working. She knew he'd still be here.

Her step faltered the second she realized he saw her.

He looked… like he was seeing an apparition. After a

second of hesitation, she decided that was good. The

element of surprise was a good thing when staging an

attack. That thought made her falter again. Was that

what she was doing? Was she really launching a sneak

attack on Josh? Maybe.

His jaw dropped a little as she made her way towards

him. She was shaking and could feel her heart thudding

wildly against her chest. Her lone solace was that she

was pretty sure he couldn't tell those things. She also

took comfort in the fact that she had no desire to cry or

otherwise get emotional… yet. At the moment, she was

taking any victory, no matter how small.

"Hi." She said the word with purpose as she entered. By

careful calculation, there was nothing tentative about

her approach.

"Hi?" Surprise rang through the lone word.

She set on the conference room table the paper bag

she'd been carrying and quickly began to unpack it.

From it she took two sandwiches, two containers of soup

and a six-pack of Sam Adams.

"What…" Josh didn't or couldn't finish the question as

he watched her continue to unpack the food.

Donna looked up and stared him solidly in the eye. She

didn't flinch in the face of his not-exactly-friendly, but

not-entirely-unfriendly expression. "I've got a turkey

muffaletta and a veggie delight. I figured we'd split 'em,

go halvesies."

Dumbfounded, Josh watched as, true to her words, she

split the sandwiches in half. She pushed a wrapper

containing one half of each sandwich across the table in

front of where he stood, still gaping.

He glanced down at the food and recognized the turkey

muffaletta as being from a deli near his place. He loved

them. If he'd been thinking straight, he would have

wondered if she'd gone to his place first. But he wasn't.

When he looked back up, she was handing him a beer.

Not sure what else to do, he took it while watching her

flip the cap off her own beer and take a sip.

Finally, he found his voice. "What are you doing?"

"Having a beer."

"I can… see that. What-" He paused for a couple of

beats, trying to get his bearings. "Why are you having a

beer here?"

"When's the last time you ate?" Without invitation, she

sat down and casually propped her feet on the chair

next to her.

Without any idea what was happening, and therefore no

way to mount a defense, he just answered the question.

"I… um… had some Funyuns from the vending machine…

this afternoon."

"Ew." She crinkled up her nose as she gestured at the

table. "I brought you something real to eat."

He eyed the sandwich halves and the soup. They did

look good. He finally focused on her enough to really

take her in. She appeared unperturbed and comfy in a

ponytail and fuzzy red tracksuit. If he only knew the

truth to how she was feeling on the inside, he might not

have felt so discombobulated himself.

She took a bite of her sandwich as she watched him

studying her; clearly he was unsettled. The surprise

attack was a success.

"But why…"

Donna wasted no more time before getting down to

business. "Because we need to get a few things straight."

"We do?" The words came out slowly as he instantly

tensed.

"Yes… and furthermore, Josh, you know we do."

"I do?" It was a lame response, but he had nothing else

to say.

"Yes. And I thought it would be best if we were able to

do it under circumstances that were a bit more relaxed

and comfortable than the last time we met." Donna

took a deep breath. "Why don't you sit down and have

something to eat?"

Warily, Josh did slowly sit down, but he only studied the

food.

"Go ahead. It's not like I poisoned it or anything." She

managed to force a laugh into her voice as she said it.

"Right." Josh still didn't touch anything. Not because

he feared it, but because he feared what eating it might

commit him to. He wasn't ready to commit to anything,

even a conversation. It was also hard to look at her,

she was so damn cute. So he trained his eyes on the

soup. Donna had taken off the lid, and the aroma filled

the room. His stomach started to grumble.

He heard her clear her throat. "So how's the

campaign?"

"What?" Forgetting the soup, his eyes snapped back to

her.

"I asked how the campaign was going," she repeated

calmly.

"You came in for a job yesterday, were denied, and

today you're wandering in at midnight, asking me how

the campaign is going in the same manner you'd… I don’

t know… ask about the state of the rhododendrons in my

garden?"

"You don't have rhododendrons."

"The point-"

"You don't even have a garden. So I would never ask

you that."

"Donna..." His whine was slight, but noticeable.

"So when I came to see you yesterday-"

"Donna." This time his voice was sharper as he tried to

interrupt, but she wasn't having it.

"I was nervous. I don't even know what I was thinking.

You know, I was much more nervous than when I came

to your office all those years ago. Can you imagine

that? Why would I be so nervous coming to see you,

now, after all this time?"

Without answering, Josh just stared at her, trying to

figure her out. Deep down, he knew he didn't want it to

be this way with her, tense like they were strangers;

but at the moment he was so confused about her

presence and purpose, he didn't know what to say.

"Yesterday, I got home and I was humiliated. Truly and

utterly. I acted like I'd never seen you before or been

through a job interview. It was atrocious." As she

spoke of her embarrassment, the feelings snuck up on

her once again and she brought one hand up in order to

cover her eyes in shame.

Josh was extremely unsettled, but also curious about

where she was going with this. "So?"

"So…" She steeled herself and got back on point. "I

thought if we were both a little more comfortable, it

might be conducive to a more productive discussion. So

here I am." She picked up her sandwich and took

another bite.

Sighing, Josh shook his head. "I'm sorry, Donna, I'm

not going to change my mind. It's not personal-"

"Oh, Josh." She shook her head at him almost

dismissively. "Of course it's personal and I'm not here

to change your mind."

That took him by surprise. "Why are you here then?"

"I'm here…" She paused and took a fortifying breath.

"I'm here because I couldn’t sleep last night. Not for a

moment. I kept replaying that disastrous scene of us in

your office in my head. All the things I should have said

to you, the things I wished I hadn't said. And I was

pretty sure I wasn't going to be sleeping tonight, either.

So I had to do something. Pickle?"

In a gesture of offering, she held up the wax paper that

contained the deli-wrapped pickles.

Josh waved her off. "Donna, I don't have the time for

this."

"Yes, you do." The way she said it so matter-of-factly

caused annoyance to rise in his chest.

"Damn it, I'm trying to get a guy elected President. I

have things I need to do."

"After midnight?"

"You know how it is-"

"Josh, if you're so busy you can't talk to me for a few

minutes, where is the rest of your staff? If there is such

a crisis you can't take a half an hour to eat a sandwich

and have a beer with me, why aren't they here with

you?"

Donna sat up straight, letting her feet fall to the floor,

and leaned forward in her chair. "Josh, we, you and me,

are at a crossroads. And I care about you and our

friendship enough to make one last-ditch effort to save

it. I know you… You'll never have the time. You'll

always put off the hard conversation. And this is my

way of not letting you do that. I've had enough."

He was stunned by her direct manner and terrified at

her words. "Last-ditch?"

"By my calculation, yes."

Narrowing his eyes, he took her measure. "What are

you saying, we can't be…" He tried to come up with a

word to describe who she was to him, but he failed.

'Friends' didn't seem adequate or sadly, lately, even

accurate, but it was all he had. "You're saying we can't

be friends anymore?"

"Yeah." Donna nodded once.

Josh's voice rose slightly. "So I don't give you a job and

it's the end… of… it's just the end?"

"You're mad at me." Her voice was rougher now than it

had been before. Donna's cool, calm, collected façade

was beginning to crumble.

Was the temperature rising? Her eyes drilled through

him across the table and he felt himself begin to

perspire. How was he able to sit across from the head of

the teamsters and not blink, but this woman in a fuzzy

red tracksuit and a ponytail made him sweat?

"I'm not."

"You are."

"You think I didn't give you a job because I’m mad at

you?"

"I know you didn't give me a job because you're mad at

me."

"Donna…" Exasperatedly, he shook his head. "I couldn't

give you a job, I showed you the file."

"For a while yesterday, I actually bought that as the

reason. That was, of course, after I got over thinking

that you wouldn't consider me for the job because you

didn't think I was good enough."

"I still have the folder; you can look at it again if you

want."

"That's not why you didn't hire me."

"It is, Donna. It really is. You're the one who wanted to

play in the big leagues. But that means you also have

to live with the consequences. That's politics."

"Why do you have the folder, Josh?"

"Huh?" The question caught him off-guard.

"The folder that's apparently devoted to me and

everything I said during the campaign."

"It's opposition research."

"Does Will have his own folder, compiled by you, in your

desk? He did a lot of positioning for Russell in the

media."

Josh just stared at her without blinking.

"What about Bill Brewer?"

"Who?"

"Spokesperson for Hoynes. What about Carol Hodges,

who was with Baker?" She glared at him and he didn't

respond. He was sure that someone had a folder on

those people, or at least what was said by the

campaigns, lying around somewhere, but it certainly

wasn't in his desk. "I didn't think so. Josh, I know

you're mad at me because I know you. And I know you

didn't hire me because you're mad."

"That's not..."

"You're mad… because if you wanted to hire me, I know

those comments I made about Santos wouldn't stop

you. They were typical political pot-shots. Jokes made

at Santos’ expense to bolster my candidate. But I never

lied. And I never played dirty."

"Those comments-"

"Those comments are exactly the type of thing you

would have said. They're exactly the kind of comments

I learned from you."

"Maybe… but I wouldn't have hired myself either," Josh

replied stubbornly.

"Bullshit!" Donna's voice rang out through the empty

building. Her calm exterior was gone.

Josh was taken aback for a moment, both by her choice

of word and the force with which she'd said it.

Donna swallowed hard and tried to maintain her

composure. She'd promised herself that she would.

Striving for a business-like tone, she continued. "That's

not true and you know it. Sometimes I think you forget

that I've been in politics for eight and a half years. I

know how it works in this town."

"Then you should be able to figure out why I couldn't

hire you. I didn't mean to hurt you, Donna. I wouldn't

hurt you on purpose. I wish you hadn't come to me like

that… you should have known." He trailed off, looking

more sad than angry.

"Maybe you think you wouldn't hurt me on purpose, but

you are punishing me."

Angrily, Josh pushed his chair back and stood. "So you

think I should make an exception for you? Play

favorites? Just forget the role you played in Russell's

campaign? I can't play favorites, Donna. And I can't

make exceptions… even for you."

"I didn't expect you to make an exception for me. I

would have been thrilled if you'd treated me like anyone

else. You forget… I know that anything can be spun and

anything can be negotiated and anything can be worked

out, if you want it."

"So therefore…"

"Therefore, you didn't not hire me because of any real

political reason. It's personal."

Josh clenched his fists at his sides. He didn't ask for this

tonight. He didn't need it and he wasn't in the mood to

deal with it now. "So therefore you think I'm mad at

you."

"Therefore I know you're mad at me. Yes."

"Maybe I just don't want you working here, Donna."

"Yes, you do," she said with a whole lot more confidence

than she felt.

Josh pressed his palms into his eyes and roughly

scrubbed his hand through his hair. "God, Donna, I

really don't have the time for this."

"Make the time."

"You came here with the sole purpose of picking a fight

with me. And I don't have time for that."

"Look around! There is no one else here." She

gestured almost wildly. "Everyone in town knows this

campaign is woefully bottom-heavy. You're going to run

it into the ground because you're trying to do it all

yourself. Heck, you told me yourself that you don't

trust anyone you have working for you. At one time I

would have doubted myself. And I would have believed

that you just didn't believe in me or my ability, but

that's not true. I spent eight years with you, and one

without, proving myself." She again gestured to the

bullpen outside the glass conference room. "You want to

hire me. You need to hire me. But you didn't because

you," she pointed at him, "are mad at me. So Josh,

please, let's clear the air. Tell me why you're mad at

me."

"I'm not." He said it through clenched teeth.

"You are."

"You're delusional."

"And you're so mad at me you're putting your anger

over the needs of your campaign."

"Grew a bit of an ego working for Bingo Bob, did you?"

"It's not a hundredth the size of yours," she spit back at

him.

He stared at her for a several long seconds and then

shook his head at her. "Just go home."

"You don't want to talk about this so much that you're

willing to end the friendship instead of confronting the

issue?" She swallowed the lump that had formed in her

throat. This was it. The end. She wasn't going to get

emotional in front of him. So she had to leave. She'd

thought if she just came to talk to him and was direct,

maybe he would be, too. She'd overestimated him. She

grabbed her purse from the table, leaving all the food

where it was, but before she turned to walk away she

looked him dead in the eye and said coldly, "You, Josh

Lyman, are a coward."

Josh felt the words like a sucker punch to the gut. A

coward. Donna thought he was a coward. How dare

she? She was the one who caused all of this to begin

with. He let her get about ten feet away from the

conference room before he snapped.

"YOU LEFT ME!"

She stopped in her tracks and steadied herself, before

slowly turning back around. His hands were on his hips,

his nostrils flared and his face red. After a minute she

shrugged at him. "And that's it?"

"What do you mean, that's it?" His voice was heated

and his eyes blazed as he walked towards her in the

darkened bullpen.

"That's why you're so mad at me. That's what you can't

forgive me for? Because you think I left you?"

He didn't answer.

"I left my job as your assistant, albeit not in the most

professional way possible, but I did it in order to do…

what I needed to do professionally."

"You needed to go work for the enemy?"

"No… I was going to leave no matter who I ended up

working for. You'd left me no other choice. And Russell

wasn't your enemy then. He was the Democratic front-

runner and you weren't even in the game. It's crazy, I

know, but at the time I thought you might actually

respect me for it… or I don't know, maybe even be a

little proud."

"Proud? You thought that I'd be proud that you

compromised yourself by working for a man who didn't

deserve to set foot in the White House, let alone live

there? He didn't deserve you!"

"He didn't have me!" Donna almost yelled. "I was an

employee. Doing the right thing for my career."

"Bingo Bob was the right thing?" Josh snorted derisively.

"Every person you ever worked for was the real thing?

You never took a professional step forward because of

advancement and opportunity rather than for the moral

high-ground? Think before you answer, Josh, I know

where you've worked. Bingo Bob," she stopped herself

and took a calming breath. "I mean Bob Russell, is not

half the man Matt Santos is, I know that, and Will isn't…

well, he's not you, but they gave me a chance. I quit a

job as your assistant and within a few months I was a

senior-level advisor and Russell's spokesperson."

"And I should be proud of you for that?"

"Damn straight!" Donna's voice echoed off the walls of

the cavernous bullpen and she met his glare head-on.

"Why aren't you?"

"Because I was out there… alone… trying to do the right

thing for the party… the right thing for the country. And

I needed you!"

The sentiment hit her hard, her heart fluttering and her

gut twisting simultaneously. He'd needed her and she

wasn't there. She'd always been there for him, but

she'd failed this time. "I was trying to do something

more important with my professional life than fixing

your suitcases and managing your Christmas party

invitations."

"You did more than that."

"It wasn't enough. I needed you, too, Josh, but you

didn't come through for me. So I had to come through

for myself. I'm sorry you judge me for that."

"I… I…" He stuttered for a second and then shut his

mouth. What was he saying? Objectively, he didn't

judge her for her job with Russell, not really. And he

was proud of her. So proud it hurt at times, hurt

because he hadn't been a part of her growth and he

should have been.

"I don't." He answered softly.

She was about to continue yelling, when she realized

what he'd said. "You don't?"

"No, you're right." He shook his head. "When you're

right, you're right. The file… that I have on you… it's

impressive. You're quite the wordsmith. I have no idea

who you've been verbally sparring with the last eight or

so years, but it paid off." He tried to use a teasing tone

but didn't quite get there.

Donna was too stunned to respond, and in that void Josh

added simply but seriously, "I was impressed by your

work."

"Really?" She felt the heat rise behind her eyes and

blinked so that he wouldn't notice if any tears made an

appearance.

"Yeah."

"You've been impressive, too," she conceded.

"You just said I was running the campaign into the

ground."

"It's only five days after the convention. That can be

rectified."

They stood in silence for a few minutes, before Donna

spoke softly. "You have to get over that I quit being

your assistant."

"I am over it," he answered instantly.

"BULLSHIT!"

Stunned, Josh stared at her. "That's twice. You don't

"I do now. Besides, I'm a little overexcited tonight and

running on no sleep."

"Oh." Josh was shocked. Not because she'd cussed at

him, but because she was different, yet completely the

same. She had a newfound confidence that he

remembered from the campaign trail, but that she

certainly hadn't had yesterday. It was both

disconcerting and comforting.

"If I'd left you, I wouldn't be standing here right now. I

wouldn't have come to you for a job. I didn't abandon

*you*, Josh. And I wouldn't have left my job like that if

you had given me any other choice."

"You were mad."

"Yes, I was," Donna admitted.

"Really mad."

"Is that how you've justified staying mad at me? That I

was mad first?"

"Who said you were mad first?"

"Oh trust me, I was mad first."

Josh starred at her. At Donna. She was back. She was

standing right in front of him in the flesh. His Donna

fighting with him… caring enough to want to make

things right. Confronting everything neither of them

had ever been willing to confront. He felt unmistakable

anxiety as he heard himself ask, "Why were we so mad

at each other?"

"Why *were* we mad? 'Were' as in the past tense?"

Donna asked tentatively.

"Yeah, were."

She stared into his eyes, searching for the truth. And in

the dark, she saw it. Forgiveness. Her lips tugged

upwards and when he saw her start to smile, he

followed suit. They stood there in the half-dark, just