WatermelonMartini1

Author: L

iza C.

Title:

hanks to the

Watermelon

Martini

Beta: Kim

ost Ep: Impact Winter

Chapter 1

"Working for you has been an honor and a privilege… an

honor and a privilege… an honor and a privilege… an

honor and a privilege…"

With a jerk, Josh woke and Donna's sad but stern face

disappeared from his cloudy vision.

"I'm sorry, sir, would you like something to drink?"

Josh squinted up at the flight attendant while he reached

in front of him and let down the tray table. His throat

was dry; he certainly could use a drink. "Ginger ale

would be great."

He hadn't slept at all the night before. After leaving the

Congressman's, he'd found a hotel close to the airport,

but it had done him no good. While the noise from the

jets taking off and landing was loud, it had very little to

do with his sleeplessness. Twisting his neck to relieve

the mild cramp that had taken up residence there, he

reached up to rub it with his left hand, and that's when

he remembered the crumpled piece of paper he was still

clutching.

Josh stared at the yellow sticky note that Marla Whorisky

had given him with Donna's cell phone number on it.

Anger rose in his chest. How dare someone give him

Donna's cell phone number like he didn't know it? Like

he didn't know her. It was outrageous!

He needed to give Marla Whorisky a piece of his mind.

He knew Donna's cell phone number by heart, and he

knew Donna. This Marla woman needed to know who

Donna was and who Josh was to Donna and who Donna

was to Josh…

His anger at Marla died right then and there. Suddenly,

he knew that focusing his ire on some ignorant temp,

who had no idea of the waters into which she was

stepping, was wrong. Convenient, ultimately harmless,

but wrong.

Maybe knowing Donna was the issue. Did he really know

her? He dismissed that ridiculous question; of course he

did. They'd spent more hours together over the last

eight years than he had with anyone else on the

planet. He probably knew more things about her than

her own mother did. For instance, he knew that she

liked white wine, didn't like peppermint ice cream, and

that she knew where everything in his life was and how

it was run. Certainly, she knew him better than anyone

else. But maybe it wasn't the same. Maybe all that stuff

didn't really count. Because the Donna he thought he

knew wouldn't quit without notice while the President

was in China suffering through a devastating MS attack,

and an asteroid hurdled toward Earth, threatening

oblivion to all.

His chest tightened and suddenly it was slightly harder to

breathe. How could she leave him when he was in the

middle of all of that? He'd been acting Chief of Staff, and

she'd thrown a temper tantrum at him. Reaching up, he

raked his hand through his hair—what little there was

left these days-- and then took a sip of the ginger ale

that was now sitting on the tray table in front of him.

It was mid-morning, and he was on the first available

flight back to DC after visiting Congressman Santos late

the previous night. What a ridiculous idea that had

been. Of course a three-term Congressman, who didn't

even want to run for Congress again, wasn't going to run

for President. He wasn't sure what had propelled him to

make the trip. Other than Leo said they were the

backroom and it was up to him, and then Donna wasn't

at her desk. Without Donna at her desk, going into his

office hadn't seemed like a trip worth making, and the

next thing he knew, he was on a plane to Houston. A

useless trip to Houston, as it turned out.

Donna had behaved capriciously in quitting, but he

couldn’t let that matter. If he weren't leaving, if he was

going to stay and see President Bartlet's term to the end,

he needed Donna. Marla Whatever-sky wasn't going to

fit the bill for the next year. Instinctually, he knew she

wasn't going to come back on her own this time, which

meant that he had to swallow whatever he had to

swallow and go to her. It pained him, but the thought of

work without Donna pained him more.

***

After buzzing Donna's apartment for the fourth time, he

stepped back and pulled his keys out of his coat pocket.

There dangled a key to Donna's front door. He

contemplated letting himself in, but dismissed that

notion quicker than it came. It didn't seem like a wise

course of action after their last interaction. Why wasn't

she home? Naively, Josh told himself that at this time,

she was usually still at the White House, and tonight she

wasn't at the White House, so she should be home.

Surely she didn't take some night job, did she?

A neighbor was headed out the front door, so Josh took

the in and decided to at least escape the frigid December

air and wait inside the warmth of the building. Taking

the steps two at a time, he headed up to the second

floor, and the door to her apartment. After about ten

minutes of waiting, he slid to the floor, settled the bag

he'd brought next to him and took out his phone. He

could at least return some calls while he waited.

***

Wearily, Donna climbed the steps to her apartment. It

had been an emotionally wrenching couple of days. As

determined as she'd been to talk to him, to demand from

him to know where her job was going and if there was a

chance for more responsibility, she hadn't actually meant

to quit like that. But when he'd put her off, time and

again, she'd lost it. Snapped. Now she had no job, no

White House to go to every day, and no contact with

Josh. She could honestly say that she didn't regret

quitting-- deep down she knew it was the decision she

had to make-- but the loss of all of that did make her sad.

Actually, the unemployed thing was what she was least

worried about. She already had a job interview lined up,

and was actually fairly confident that she'd get an offer.

A job that would have nothing to do with Josh-- or

mostly nothing to do with Josh; it was still in politics,

after all. That thought actually hurt more than it helped,

but she hoped that with time, it would fade. Her anger

at his dismissive treatment was helping. though, so she

focused on that. Her existence would no longer revolve

around Josh Lyman; he was out of her life for good.

With that thought fueling her up the last few steps to her

landing, she stopped cold a few feet from her door.

There, sitting on her doorstep, was the man himself.

Her heart slammed against her chest as she slowly

approached him. His sunglasses were inexplicably on his

face, his phone was clutched in his hand, and he hadn't

moved since she’d reached the landing, so she assumed

he hadn't yet noticed her presence.

Wondering how long he'd been there, Donna glanced at

her watch: 8pm. In order not to attract attention from

any neighbors, she kept her voice soft. "Josh, what are

you doing here?"

When he didn't move, she said his name a bit louder.

Again she was met with silence. For a second her heart

caught in her throat. Josh wasn't moving. Was he

hurt? But then she saw his mouth drop open like it

usually did whenever he fell asleep sitting up, and he let

out a soft snore.

Conflicting emotions ran rampant through her, tugging

her in polar opposite directions. She'd been a bit on pins-

and-needles the last 48 hours, not knowing if he would

come after her or try to talk her out of leaving. She

hadn't been sure what he would do, although she'd been

pretty certain that he hadn't taken her seriously.

Another surge of anger hit her at that thought. After all,

that was the root of the problem, wasn't it?

But as she looked down at him, another surge of

something entirely different hit her. He was adorable,

sitting up fast asleep against her door, with his

sunglasses on and his mouth hanging open. Many

people wouldn't find that adorable, and she certainly

didn't want to find it adorable, but she did. Some might

say that that was the real root of the problem.

She nudged him with her foot. When he still didn't stir,

she knelt down, grabbed him by both shoulders, and

shook. "Josh!" Her voice was sharp, the timber honed by

years of experience waking him.

Finally, he groaned something unintelligible, and then

woke with a start, his glasses falling halfway down his

newly animated face.

Concerned, questioning blue eyes met his gaze. Donna's

eyes. Donna and her eyes were only a foot away. He

mumbled groggily, "You came back?"

Taken aback by his sleep-induced question, she stood up

to find some distance from him. Crossing her arms

against her chest to create a bit of psychological armor,

she asked, "Josh, you're asleep on my doorstep. Why are

you asleep on my doorstep?"

"What time is it?" He swallowed several times to draw

some moisture into his once again dry mouth. Now that

he was slightly more alert, he remembered where he

was, and why. But if he'd fallen asleep, she must be

getting home very late indeed. His gut twisted as the

possible reasons for her detainment ran through his

mind.

"It's eight," Donna replied without uncrossing her arms

or averting her gaze.

"Oh," Relief stole visibly across his face. "I thought it was

later."

"How long have you been here?"

"'Bout an hour." He stretched his torso, trying to get the

tweaks out of his back from falling asleep on the hard

wood of her hallway. Why was it that the prior night, all

he could do was stare at his hotel room ceiling, but on

the plane and here on this doorstep, his body shut down,

forcing sleep in the most ridiculous positions? Perhaps

he wasn't guarding against rest in those moments.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded as he rose to

a standing position.

Before falling asleep, Josh hadn't entirely worked out

what he was going to say. Her posture and tone were

defensive, standoffish even. But in her eyes, he saw a

glimmer of hope. Glancing around, he found what he

was looking for on the floor. Leaning down, he picked up

the paper bag. He puffed out his cheeks and then

exhaled before offering the bag to her. "I bought you a

salad."

"You're asleep on my doorstep and bought me a salad…

why?" She knew why, but she wasn't going to give in

that easily.

Contrary to some speculation, Josh wasn't an idiot. He

knew she'd been uptight with him for some time. He

also knew she'd been angling for more responsibility at

work. What he didn't know is what he could or even

wanted to do about that. A promotion probably meant

her moving entirely away from his office, and that wasn't

something he liked to think about. He thought that if he

could just put her off for a little bit longer, then they'd be

out of office. Apparently, she hadn't been willing to

wait. "So we could have that talk. I buy you a salad and

we talk. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"It's too late, Josh." With a deep sigh, she shook her

head and averted her gaze from his.

He tried another tack. "Have you eaten?"

"Huh?"

"Have you eaten?"

"My watermelon martini came with a huge slice of

watermelon. I ate some of that."

"I have food." He motioned to the bag. "Let me in and

we'll go from there."

Narrowing her eyes, she thought about his offer. He

seemed sincere and even a bit sheepish. Finally, she

decided that if she wanted to keep him in her life in any

way, they would have to talk sooner or later. And the

fact was that no matter how much anger she felt, she

couldn't contemplate an existence completely devoid of

him. So that meant she had to talk to him. Wordlessly,

she nodded her acquiescence, and motioned him to the

side so she could unlock her door.

Once inside, they both shrugged out of their heavy

winter coats and hung them near the door. Josh wasn't

sure what to do, so he followed her lead. She went

towards the kitchen, so he went towards the kitchen.

"I'm making myself some tea to warm up, do you want

some?"

"Sure. Or do you have coffee?"

She looked over her shoulder at him from where she was

filling the teapot, answering him with a silent glare.

Recognizing the meaning behind her expression, he

declined to push his luck. "Tea it is."

"Or I think there's a beer in the fridge if you'd prefer."

Reaching to ready a mug for herself, she didn't turn to

look at him this time.

"Okay." Feeling like every word spoken was a landmine,

Josh silently made his way to the fridge and helped

himself. It was a light beer-- not his first choice, but he

wisely decided to make no comment.

"Do you want some?" He asked tentatively after he'd

opened the bottle. If she'd still share a beer with him,

there was probably hope.

"No, the watermelon martini was huge."

Josh pulled out a chair from her kitchen table and sat

down. Trying to sound casual, he asked, "So you were

out drinking?"

"I was at Blue Gin," she replied as she opened the bag

Josh had brought. Her stomach growled, even though a

salad wasn't her first choice after drinking. She wanted…

fries.

Blue Gin? That was quite a trendy spot. He studied her

more carefully. She was wearing darker makeup than

usual, and her sweater was black and just a tad tighter

than what she would normally wear in the White House.

She also wore a skirt and high-heeled knee-high black

boots. A stab of jealousy hit his chest, even as he felt

something primal stir lower.

"Hot date?" He tried to ask with a smirking bravado, but

it came out as more of a squeak.

"I'm home by eight, Josh." She paused for a second

before asking, "Did you bring any fries, by chance?"

"Uh, no," he replied with a trace of humor in his voice.

"But there's some of that bread that you like so much."

"That will work." Donna eagerly dug it out of the bag.

"So it wasn't hot?"

"What, the bread?"

"No, your date." Again Josh squeaked on the word ‘date.’

Donna rolled her eyes as she started to unwrap the

bread. "Margaret, Carol and Ginger took me out for an

after-work drink. Well after work for them. But we only

had an hour and a half because Margaret had to go back,

and she was my ride."

"They took you out? Why?"

She looked him square in the eye. "To celebrate my

freedom."

That hit him like a battering ram. Thankfully he was

sitting, or he might have actually bowled over. She

thought of quitting her job with him as gaining her

freedom. "I see." He inhaled deeply, inexplicably

needing to catch his breath. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. Those three were mostly still giggling over their

cute-guy-bunker list. The asteroid scare gave them a lot

of fodder."

"Did I make their list?"

She dead-panned, "No."

"Did I make yours?"

"I didn't make a list,” she replied as she handed him a

fork. "I'm taking the Chinese chicken; you can have the

Cobb."

Silently, he accepted the salad and studied her. She was

mad at him, that much was easy to ascertain. Especially

since the tone and delivery of her next words confirmed

it.

"What are you doing here, bringing me a salad, Josh? I

quit. Why aren't you being you about this? Why aren't

you mad?"

"Because I forgive you."

She dropped the fork that had traveled halfway to her

mouth. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "I said I forgive you."

"What exactly do you forgive me for?" Her voice and

posture held unmistakable signs of warning.

"I forgive you for getting angry at me when I didn't take

time to have lunch with you while I was acting Chief of

Staff, the President was suffering an MS attack in China,

and a chunk of the sky was literally falling from the

heavens, threatening our very existence. I understand

you were frustrated and you quit in anger, and I'm here

to forgive you for that."

"I see. Well, gee, Josh, don't do me any favors." She

pushed the salad away from her, suddenly losing even

her alcohol-induced appetite. "CJ, Toby and the

President are still out of town, which I assume means

you are still acting Chief of Staff, so I wouldn't want to

keep you from your very important work. I'm sure you

have to get back." Leaning back in her chair, she once

again crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"Leo's holding down the fort. Right now my important

work involves getting you to come back."

She rolled her eyes and leaned forward. "Not going to

happen."

"I see you haven't cooled down yet."

"Cooled down?"

He gulped, realizing this was going very badly. Not that

he'd necessarily thought it would go smoothly, but part

of him had thought she'd acted rashly, and would be

grateful if she was forgiven and could take it all back.

"You have absolutely no idea why I quit, do you?" She

demanded with a tone of disgust.

Now it was his turn to sit back and cross his arms.

"Enlighten me."

"Come on, Josh."

"No, you come on. I gave you a shot and this is how you

repay me."

"Eight years ago!" She replied with a significantly raised

voice.

"You quit an important job in the White House with no

notice, right in the middle of a whole lot of… crap going

on."

"There's always a lot of crap going on."

"But-"

"Did you just hear yourself?" She interrupted huffily.

"What?"

"I quit an *important* job?" She stressed the word

‘important.’

"You did."

"I was an assistant. You'll find someone else to tackle

the important duty of answering your phone."

"That's not all you did!"

She leaned forward and grabbed his beer off the table.

"Admit it; you've known I was unhappy with my limited

duties for a long time."

Studying her, he finally replied, "You're mixing your

alcohol."

"Liquor before beer, never fear," she replied, setting the

bottle back on the table equidistant between the two of

them. He no longer thought their sharing the beer

automatically meant there was hope.

Engaged in some bizarre staring contest, they both sat

silently, glaring at the other. It was true that Donna had

imbibed a rather large martini, and while it had possibly

made her tongue a bit looser than normal, she still had

her wits about her and that made for a rather dangerous

combination.

TBC…