That's the reason I'm interfering in the ongoing saga of Josh and Donna.  The moping is quite tiresome.  Plus, if they don't stop sniping at each other in front of people, pretty soon the more intuitive of our colleagues -- namely, anyone but Sam -- will start asking why those two are so obviously angry at each other.

Just this morning, Carol and I witnessed a terse exchange between those two.  Carol raised her eyebrows, handed me a phone message, and said, "Lovers' spat?"

At which point I nearly choked on my coffee.  Because if someone overhears that, the ball starts rolling.  Then there's speculation and rumors and insinuations, and at some point in the not-distant future, the big ball of scandal lands squarely in my lap.  In front of a couple million viewers and the White House press corps.

Which is not an option.  So really it's more than just the moping that's prompting me to -- You know, "interfere" really isn't the right word.  I'm solving a problem.  I'm obviating a problem, actually, which is my job.

Thus convinced, I head for Josh's office, stopping only to tap Donna's shoulder and give her the look.  Without a word, Donna jumps up and follows me.  Josh looks up from what he assured me is a very boring memo on the shortage of landfill space and gives me his obnoxious I'm-far-too-busy-to-deal-with-your-petty-problems look.  Then his eyes widen as he takes in the expression on my face, the one I once overheard him tell Toby is my feminista-death-ray face.  (Toby, it should be noted, knew that I was within earshot, and consequently made the most neutral sound possible in response; he bought me lunch for a week.)

To my amusement, Josh swallows whatever snarky remark he was thinking of making and nods at me.

"Okay," I tell them as I close the door behind me.  "We're going to talk now."

There's a moment of awkward silence.  Donna slides into the guest chair, but I stay standing, arms crossed.  Ever the gentleman, Josh remains sitting.

"About what?" Josh asks, trying for unconcerned.

"What do you think?"

"CJ, I really don't--"

"Look," I interrupt before he can really get started.  "I don't need to know the details.  Your private lives are your own business unless and until they hit the press."

Donna's head jerks up and she stares at me.  "They won't.  Believe me."  There's something brittle about her voice.

Josh isn't looking at her, but he has a decidedly sour look on his face.  "She's right."

I bite back a groan.  "Am I to infer that you two are no longer--"

"Yes."  Josh leans back, tossing one foot insolently onto his desktop.  Too bad Donna and I both know him too well to be fooled by this show of bravado.  "You may infer that Donna and I are strictly boss and assistant."

I let that hang in the air for a moment and concentrate on Donna.  Her expression is almost neutral.  She's staring blankly at the tie rack on the wall, but the corners of her mouth are tense, like she's holding back angry words.  "Donna?"

"What?"  Her voice is carefully controlled, but she won't look at me.

"I need to know if you two can work together--"

"Of course we can," Donna interrupts.  She glances at me, then away.  "We're fine.  We're just... not together."

I do not understand.  How could the giddiness and obvious affection between them have mutated into this restrained anger in so short a time?

"People are starting to wonder," I say finally.

Josh's eyes narrow.  "People?  Or you?"

"Josh, do you think I wanted to come in here and pester you two?  Do you really think this is fun for me?"

He looks away.  "No."

"Good.  Now that we've got that cleared up--"

"Can I go?" Donna asks, rising.  Her fingers are tangled together in front of her, and she's still pointedly avoiding Josh's gaze.

Oh, hell.  Obviously I'm not going to get anything out of them when they're both in the same room.  "Sure."

She nods, flashing me what she probably thinks is a smile.  "Really, CJ, it's fine."  She brushes past me and pauses at the door.  "Josh, Leo wants you in ten minutes."

"Thanks."  There's not even a little gratitude in his voice.  In fact, if I had to choose a descriptor, I'd say he sounds bitter.

I wait until the door clicks shut softly. "Josh--"

"We're really not going to do this."  He pulls the landfill memo back towards him.  "I've got--"

"I'm not kidding, Josh.  There have already been some comments.  I don't know why you're so angry--"

"Exactly."  He stares at me, his expression unreadable.

Oh, good.  Cryptic Josh.  My favorite.  "What?"

With a sigh, Josh drops his feet off the desk.  "Never mind."

"I would like nothing better than to walk out of here and not worry about whatever the hell happened--"

"Nothing happened.  We decided we're better off as friends."

Yeah, and I've got an antique bridge for sale.  It used to live in London.  Quite a steal.  "You two are barely civil."

"We're adjusting," he answers, rubbing his shoulder absently.

It's painful, this unexpected reminder of Rosslyn.  And the guilt is as potent as it was the night I watched him bleed onto the pavement.  "Is your back bothering you?"  My voice is quiet, barely audible.

"It's fine," he answers sharply, dropping his hand.  He sits there stiffly, determined not to show weakness.

I push away from the cabinet, because he's obviously not going to talk to me.  "Adjust faster," I order, but my tone is not nearly as peremptory as it was before.  "I don't want to get the question."

Josh laughs, but it's bitter.  "Believe me, you shouldn't be worrying about that question."

I freeze, one hand on the doorknob, and turn slowly back to him.  "What does that mean?"

Josh is still avoiding my eyes.  "Nothing."  His fingers tap nervously atop the memo.

"Josh--"

"Nothing," he says again, louder this time.  "I just mean you won't get the question, because we're not--"  He swallows.  "We're not together.  So you should worry about something else."

I watch him carefully, the way he's trying very hard not to fidget.  "That's not what you meant at all."

"You won't get the question," he repeats stubbornly.

I take two steps and place my hands on the edge of the desk, forcing him to look up at me.  "What question should I be worrying about, Josh?  What question should I be prepared for?"

Josh holds my gaze and pushes the memo towards me.  "You should be prepared to explain why we're running out of landfill space."

"Josh--"

"Just drop it, CJ."

I stare at him for a long time.  "I really hope you know what you're doing."

Josh's gaze flits away from me.  "I do."

"You fixed it?"

Slowly, he turns to face me, and the pain on his face is shocking.  "Yeah.  I fixed it.  That's what I do."

I open my mouth to reply, but he waves me off.

"Please, CJ.  Just--"  He shrugs.

There's a sharp knock at the door, and Josh nearly jumps out of his chair.  "Yeah?" he yells, relief evident in his tone.

Toby pokes his head in, then points at me.  "Cashmen and Berryhill--"

"The FDA?" I ask.

"Yeah, I've got this for you."  Toby hands me a yellow piece of paper marked with his familiar script.

"Right."  I glance at it, absorbing the words, then look up to thank him, but he's gone.  Josh is watching me curiously when I turn to him.

"The FDA?"

I nod.  "Yeah.  I'll take care of it."

"'Kay."

I pause, and we watch each other for a moment.

"Really," Josh sighs.  "It's fine."

"Okay," I agree, heading for the door.  But between the hurt on his face, and the way Donna's voice trembles a little when she tells me Carol's looking for me, I really don't believe that it is.

THE END

01.28.02