This is not happening.

Josh stared in the general direction of his computer, mesmerized by the dancing lines.  If he concentrated really hard, maybe he could lose himself in the screensaver, pretend none of this had happened.

The only problem with that was the tight knot of fear in his belly and the way his muscles shook with tension.  He absently wiped his palms on his thighs.

So, okay.  Donna lied to Congress.  To her ex-lover.  Who knows that she lied.  Sure, Josh could fix that.  No problem.

What the hell was Cliff doing looking at her damn diary anyway?

He saw it when he was in my apartment, Donna said.  Translation:  He saw it when he was in Donna's bedroom.  And the only reason--

No, no, no, he thought.  That way lies madness.

If he was going to have any chance of fixing this -- this colossal, hideous blunder, he couldn't think about Cliff being in Donna's apartment.  In her bedroom.  In--

Josh jerked upright, trying in vain to outstrip the images in his brain.

Perjury, he told himself.  Concentrate on that.

Donna could be charged with perjury.  And there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen.  So she lied.  Fibbed.  Misspoke.  He frowned at the windowsill.

Why would she lie? he wondered.  What could possibly be so damaging in that journal that she'd automatically lie about it?  Josh frowned, pacing the small, cramped office.

He needed to know what was in the damn journal before he could fix this.  He didn't see many options, but depending on what she wrote...  Well, he possibly could figure out some way to save this.

Josh dropped back into his chair and grabbed the phone, dialing Carol.

"Media Relations," she answered.

"Carol, it's Josh."

"CJ's not in."

"Actually, I'm calling for you."

There was a moment of silence.  "Is this about my deposition?"

"No," Josh answered quickly.  "We're actually not allowed to--"

"Right.  Sorry.  What can I do for you?"

"Did Thomas' office release the names and contact information for the staffers working directly on the depositions?"

"I think so," Carol answered.  Josh could hear the sound of paper, then fingers on a keyboard.  "Yeah.  Do you want me to print you--"

"No.  I just need--"  Josh scrubbed at his face.  "Is there a lawyer named Cliff listed?"

"Cliff, Cliff, Cliff," Carol muttered as she searched.

Josh winced, trying not to think about the other woman who may have whispered--

Slamming his hand into the desk, Josh concentrated on his stinging palm instead of the unwanted images in his head.

"Cliff Calley?" Carol asked, her tone bright.

"Yeah," Josh affirmed.  "Do you have his number?"

"Sure," Carol answered, rattling it off.

Josh scrawled the number down on a piece of paper.  "Thanks, Carol."

"That's all you need?" she asked, sounding surprised.

Attempting to inject some of humor into his voice, Josh answered, "For now."

Josh hung up and stared at the piece of paper, at the string of digits leading him directly to the man Donna--

Standing abruptly, he carefully folded the paper in half and slid it into his pocket.  He had the first piece of information he needed to fix things.

Now he just needed to know what was in the goddamned diary.

***

"So how'd it go?"

Donna smiled at Carol, inwardly vowing to yell at the next person who asked that question.  "It went fine," she lied.  "Nothing to worry about."

Carol, whose own deposition was scheduled in three days, sighed in relief.  "Good, because--"

"Carol, we're not supposed to talk about it."

"Right.  It's just -- you seemed upset."

Donna gestured toward her computer.  "That's because this thing is being temperamental and Josh has stuff he wants me to--"

Carol nodded her understanding.  "Anyway," she added, "I wanted to check on how you were doing."

"I'm fine," Donna repeated.  "And I appreciate it."  She inclined her head toward the computer.  "If I'm going to get home at a decent hour--"

"Hey, Donna."  She looked away from Carol to see Josh leaning against the doorway.  Who is this person, Donna wondered, and where did he hide Josh?  Standing there, barely whispering her name instead of yelling for her from the depths of his office -- hardly his normal behavior.  "Get in here, would you?" he asked.  He didn't sound pissed, she noted, but that was probably for Carol's benefit.

She grabbed a steno pad, just to look professional, and waved goodbye to Carol.  Stepping past Josh, she took her usual seat in his office and waited for him to close the door.

"What's in it?" he asked as he sat back down behind his desk.

"What do you mean?"

"Your damn diary, Donna.  What did you write in it?"

Humiliation and terror, she decided, seemed to be the emotions of the day.  All in all, she preferred terror.

"The kind of stuff people usually write in their diaries," she replied, wincing at how defensive her voice sounded.  "My thoughts, feelings, stuff that happened.  There's not one word about the President's illness in there, if that's what you're worried about."

"What about the day you found out?  You didn't write about it then?"

"No, because that was the day -- by the time I got home, all I could think about was Mrs. Landingham.  I wrote about her."

"The press conference?  What about--"

"Josh, I don't write in it every single day.  I don't have time.  Sometimes a week can go by before I open it.  So, no, nothing about the press conference."

"Manchester?  When we were up there for the speech?"

"I wrote about you.  You were beating yourself up over the tobacco thing, and I wrote about that."

Josh shut his eyes, as though looking at her caused him pain.  "Well, good, because there's something I want the Republican Party to know about."

"I'm sorry, Josh.  Look, I don't know what more to say than that."  And I will be damned, she thought, if I let either of you bastards make me cry.

Josh opened his eyes and looked at her as though he was biting back all the sarcastic comments that naturally came to mind.  "You're absolutely sure there's nothing in this diary that would prove embarrassing to the President?"

"Absolutely.  After everything that happened this morning, I went home and I skimmed through it again, just to be sure."

"So there's nothing damning in it?"

"Not damning," she replied, "but there's stuff -- I wrote some things about Rosslyn and about when you were recovering.  There are things I wrote about what happened last Christmas that might be bad for you.  And things you've said to me that someone else might take out of context."

He looked genuinely confused.  "What sort of things?" he asked.

"Do phrases like 'tough love' and 'philately' ring any bells?"

He winced.  They sat quietly for a moment while Josh digested this information.

"Did you write about him?"

"Him who?"  Although, based on the way Josh sneered when he uttered that pronoun, it was pretty clear who he meant.

"Your Republican."  It was amazing, Donna thought, how much contempt Josh could pack into two words.

"Yes," she replied, "I wrote about Cliff."

The way Josh refused to look at her made Donna feel distinctly uncomfortable.  "Did you..."  He started, hesitated and rephrased the question.  "Is it clear what happened between you two?"

"Yes.  Very clear."

"I mean -- this is -- I'm not asking this to pry," he said, "but is it completely clear that you slept with him?"

She would have expected herself to blush, discussing this with Josh.  Instead, she could feel the blood draining from her face.  "Yes, Josh," she answered.  "It is very clear that Cliff and I had sex."

"Good," Josh said.  His mouth was fixed in a tight, bitter smile -- not quite the reaction she'd been expecting.  "Good," Josh repeated.  "We can use that."

"What do you mean, 'we can use that'?"

"There's something in that diary he doesn't want becoming public either.  We can play to that."

"Play to it?  That doesn't sound ethical."

"Yeah, well, neither is lying to a Congressional investigating committee.  Neither is failing to disclose that you've slept with the person you're interrogating.  None of us is going to come away from this exactly clean."

He was right, of course.  He was also blaming her, which he was justified in doing.  That realization, however, did not keep her from resenting his tone of voice.

"Look, Donna," he went on -- and she thought she heard a twinge of regret in his voice -- "we can't afford to think about this in personal terms.  Do you get that?  We simply don't have the luxury of doing that right now."

"Fine."  She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"We have to handle this as a political problem.  We have to make it as devastating for the enemy as it is for us."

Wonderful, she thought sarcastically.  He was going to get to play "smack down the Republicans" with her life and have himself a fun time.  He'd probably end up enjoying the whole damn experience.  "Cliff is a decent man, Josh," she said.  She wasn't completely sure she believed that any more, but she felt the need to stand up to somebody in this mess.  "I'm not comfortable with labeling him as the enemy."

"A decent man would never have--"  She could literally see Josh clamping down on his anger.  "Fine," he said.  "Think whatever you want about him.  You can think he's a goddamn knight in shining armor for all I care.  Just remember that the only way we're getting through this is to frame it as a political problem.  We don't have time to worry about how embarrassing any of the stuff you've written is.  We don't have time to get indignant about the invasion of privacy.  We just have time to make sure that Cliff--"  There was that sneer again-- "doesn't want this to become public any more than we do."

"Fine," she said.

"I want you to go home and get the diary, then meet me back here."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to work out a political solution."

***

This, Josh told himself again as he found a secluded booth in the coffee shop, was a political problem.  It was absolutely critical to remember that this was a political problem and, as such, could be easily solved.  He just had to remember the basics.

Rule One:  Intimidation.  Scare the son of a bitch.  Smack him down hard.

Josh planned to truly enjoy that part.

Generally, in a tense situation like this one, he would make a point of arriving late -- just stroll in, wearing what Donna called The Sunglasses of Intimidation, making his opponent wait and (hopefully) sweat it out.  This time, however, was different.  This time he'd arrived early so he wouldn't be taken by surprise when he saw this guy for the first time.

Cliff.

Donna's Cliff.  The bastard who had the gall to sleep with Donna, then turn around and threaten her.

Cliff.  The reason Donna had that shocked, terrified look on her face.

A political problem, Josh reminded himself.  No time -- or reason -- to treat it as anything else.

So, Rule Two:  Remain impassive.

Never let the enemy know you're worried.  Make him think you're taking this meeting strictly as a favor to him.  Your personal involvement in this matter is limited.

In this case, he knew how that translated:  "My assistant made a little mistake.  Nothing important.  But she's a good kid, and I'd like to spare her any embarrassment.  By the way, if you come near her again, I'll tear your head off."

Yeah, he decided, he should probably tone down that last part.

What he needed to do to remain focused was to concentrate on Rule Three:  Assess your opponent's weaknesses.

Dear old Cliff, Josh reasoned, was in as much trouble as Donna.  Maybe more.  CJ could do one hell of a spin job on Donna's problem: the innocent, wide-eyed farm girl (Josh was more than willing to ignore the Moss family condo for now; "farm girl" played more sympathetically) locked in a room full of lawyers.  They hit her with a barrage of embarrassing personal questions.  She wanted to protect what was left of her privacy, so she told a lie about her silly, immaterial, schoolgirl habit of keeping a diary.

Not bad.  They could work with that if they had to.

Cliff, on the other hand... Cliff was a lawyer.  Cliff knew that saying he'd met Donna socially was hardly the same as saying that he'd seen her naked.  And if he'd known Donna was lying about the diary, he'd had an obligation to say as much then and there.

Sam might joke about Josh not being a real lawyer, but one thing Josh knew:  If you shouted "disbarment" long enough and loud enough, you could get a lawyer to flinch.

All in all, he convinced himself, Cliff was in much bigger trouble than he and Donna were.

***

Donna retrieved her diary from the nightstand and wondered if anything she'd recorded in it even remotely resembled the truth.  Given how wrong she'd been about Cliff, after all, how much stock could she put in her musings over anyone or anything else?

She'd described Cliff as "funny" and "sincere."  Based on what she'd seen today, not only did she want to replace "funny" with "smarmy," she needed to scratch out "sincere" and write "manipulative" in its place.

That, she realized, was what hurt the most -- the possibility that nothing she'd done with Cliff had been her own free will.  Given what she now knew, she thought it was extremely likely that Cliff had set out to use her.  Her decision to sleep with him -- what she'd thought of as an assertion that she could have a moment in her life unrelated to politics or the White House or Josh -- had backfired spectacularly.  And while she couldn't prove that Cliff had been using her all along, she was not inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt at the moment.

Her journal had not, after all, been sitting in plain sight.  That meant that, during the approximately three minutes she'd been in the bathroom, Cliff had managed to dig around in her nightstand until he'd found her diary.  And, for all she knew, read part of it.

Even though she had no proof that was how things had happened, it seemed too coincidental for comfort.

The worst part was not even how used she felt.  The worst part was being put in this passive position.  Having no idea how to save herself from the consequences of one stupid, impulsive lie, she had no choice but to let Josh dictate what she should do next.  To him it was all a political problem.  The fact that she was terrified and that her privacy was being violated on such a primal level meant nothing to him.  And while she knew she was damn lucky to have Josh working this out for her, she didn't feel relieved at all.  She felt as though she was simply a pawn in some game between Cliff and Josh.

I don't make a very good damsel in distress, she told herself as she dropped the diary into her purse and headed out the door.  In fact, I make such a terrible damsel in distress that I should stop acting like one.

***

That, Josh thought as he watched the man approaching him in the coffee shop, cannot possibly be Cliff.

From what little he knew about the events that had transpired between Donna and Cliff, Josh had reached a conclusion:  Cliff Calley was some slick pretty boy who'd taken advantage of Donna's credulity, some Alpha Male who'd used his charm and good looks to exploit Donna's trusting nature.

The man extending his hand to Josh now didn't fit that image at all.  This guy was not terribly good looking, and he was quite short.  Shorter than Josh.  Shorter than Donna.

What in the hell was she thinking? Josh asked himself while making a point of not shaking the bastard's hand.

He took a moment to savor Cliff's obvious discomfort before nodding just enough to indicate that the Republican should take a seat across from him.  He didn't say a word, hoping that the silence would make Cliff nervous enough to give away information Josh could use.

It worked.

"Believe me, Mr. Lyman, I'm not trying to cause any problems for you or for Donna.  But when she said she didn't keep a diary, I remembered seeing it and--"

"You remembered seeing her diary?"

"Yes."  The smile on the other man's face was too damn casual for Josh's taste, as though Cliff's discovering such a private part of Donna's life was no big deal.

"In Donna's apartment?"

"Yes."

"In Donna's bedroom?"  Josh heard the undercurrent of anger in his own voice and reminded himself that he couldn't afford to get angry.  This is a political problem, he told himself again; it's nothing more than a political problem.

"Yes," Cliff admitted.  "It was completely an accident.  I wasn't snooping.  I just happened to be--"

"You just happened to be in the bedroom of a woman you knew would be a witness in the case you were traded to Oversight to investigate.  Which is how you knew she misspoke today."  Josh paused, allowing himself to look at the other man with every ounce of contempt he was feeling.  "Not having a very good week there, are you, Cliff?"

"I'm not sure what you've heard from Donna, but I'm trying to help her; I really am."  Josh gripped his coffee cup tighter and reminded himself that losing his temper would not help Donna.  Cliff, he was pleased to note, was beginning to show the strain -- his tone of voice had gotten just a little too defensive on that last answer and his anger was becoming visible in the way he glared at Josh.

"Oh, it's Donna you're trying to help, is it?"

"What's that mean?"

"The way I see it, you're in much worse trouble than Donna is."  He shrugged, trying to seem as casual as possible.

"I didn't try to hide the fact that I'd met Donna socially.  It's on the record."

"You met socially?  That's not what you call full disclosure, is it?"

"I was trying to spare Donna any embarrassment, that's all," Cliff answered.  His voice had taken on a clipped, irritated quality.  Good, Josh thought, I'm wearing the bastard down.

"Right.  And it's just a happy coincidence that sparing Donna embarrassment keeps you out of trouble."

"Look, you can attribute all the sinister motives to me that you want, but it doesn't change the fact that she lied."

"Or that you should never have been questioning her in the first place.  And that you never would have known her answer wasn't completely accurate--"

"It was a lie."

Cliff, Josh noticed, was having trouble looking him in the eye.  The son of a bitch was nervous, and Josh was more than willing to use that against him.

"It was an understandable mistake that you wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't slept with a woman you knew you'd have to depose."

"My actions weren't anywhere near as calculating as you're making them out to be.  I'm sure Donna's explained how it happened to you.  And furthermore--"

"I'm not in the habit of discussing my assistant's love life."  He was amazed that he was able to say that with a straight face.

"Look, Mr. Lyman, the bottom line here is that I'm ethically obligated to inform the committee that Donna lied under oath."

"And yet you haven't."

Cliff shrugged.  "I like her.  I was giving her a chance to do the right thing."

"Is that what you were doing?  Because from where I'm sitting it looks as though you're trying to find a way to save your own ass before you turn her in."

"Believe whatever you want.  That doesn't make Donna any less guilty."

Cliff started to get up from the table, as though he intended to end the meeting.  He's angry, Josh thought, and he's rattled. He may be talking about Donna's guilt, but he's worried about his own culpability. Now's the time to let him know just what he's in for if he goes public with this.

"It doesn't make you any less guilty either.  You can be certain that point will come up in the press if Donna has any legal problems."

This guy would never be a major player in Washington.  In fact, Josh was surprised that Cliff had gotten as far as he had.  Cliff flinched too easily; he was too obviously nervous and guilty.  And what the hell had ever possessed Donna to go out with this jerk, Josh couldn't guess.

Another point against Donna's short, smarmy, not-half-as-clever-as-he-thought-he-was Republican, Josh noted, was that the guy lost his temper too easily.  Josh acknowledged that he himself had something of a temper, but he knew not to let it get the better of him at a crucial moment in negotiations.

"You people," Cliff said, and Josh noted with pleasure that Cliff was practically sneering.  "The self-righteous, lying Bartlet staff.  You make such a show out of wanting to help out your poor little assistant, but we both knew that you consider her expendable.  You'll try to save your president the embarrassment that the publicity would cause -- not to mention hiding anything that's in the diary -- but once the story breaks, Donna's on her own."

"No, she's not."  He made his tone of voice as low and as threatening as he could manage.  "Believe me when I tell you that.  And if anything happens to her, I will personally make sure that you are disbarred.  At the very least."

Not only had Cliff turned a gratifying shade of white, he seemed to be shaking.

Gotcha, Josh thought.

"So," Cliff asked after several moments of silence, "what do we do to solve this?"

Josh leaned against the back of the booth and stared Cliff down.  "We deal," he said.

***

"Here's the deal," Donna said, standing in the doorway to Josh's office.  She was shaking a little bit, but she couldn't quite figure out how to stop.

Startled, he jerked around to face her.  "Donna."

"Yes."  She didn't move from her spot, standing there with her arms crossed.  "I've been thinking."

Josh scrubbed a hand over his face.  "About?"

"This situation.  I don't think we need the--"  She stopped, lowered her voice-- "the thing.  I think we should just talk to Cliff--"

"Donna--"  He gave a frustrated sigh.  "Would you get in here and close the door?"

Donna bit back her first response, because, after all, he was right; anyone could just walk by and overhear.  Her movements stiff, Donna took two steps into the room and shut the door, leaning back against it.  "Josh--"

"We have to let Cliff read your diary."

Donna stared at him.  "What?"

"We have to let Cliff read it, Donna, so he'll know that--"

"We have to let Cliff read it?" she repeated, eyes wide.  "Are you kidding?"

"No."

"This is your big political solution?" she demanded, her voice spiraling upward.  "Let Cliff read my diary?"

Josh held her gaze; and when he answered, his voice was flat.  "Yes."

Shaking her head almost involuntarily, Donna demanded, "You expect me to let a virtual stranger--"  She didn't want to think about why he flinched--  "read my diary?"

Josh stood to face her, arms crossed angrily.  "Why did you think I had you go get it?"

"So you could read it," she shot back.  "And I was coming in here to tell you I've decided not to let you."

Josh sighed.  "Look, we can't afford to worry about personal embarrassment--"

"Says the only person who's not going to experience any," Donna interrupted hotly.  How dare he?  How dare he stand there, unaffected, and preach to her about taking one for the team?  She honestly wanted to hit him.

Then Josh gave her a stony look and said, "Yeah, 'cause I'm going to be thrilled to answer Katie Couric's questions about living with PTSD, Donna."

She flinched.  Again, he had a point.  But dammit, she was doing a fine job beating herself up, thank you very much.  She didn't need the added bonus of Josh's righteous indignation.  "That's not going to happen."

"You're damn right it's not going to happen."

Donna narrowed her eyes, studying the angry lines of his body.  "That's what this is about?  You just couldn't stand it if your precious image was tarnished in the press.  After all--"

"I don't give a shit about my image, Donna," Josh interrupted.  She stared, mesmerized, as he advanced on her slowly.  She didn't think he'd ever used that tone of voice with her before.  "I'd lose my job.  You understand that, right?  Oh, the White House wouldn't fire me outright; they couldn't.  Mental health advocates would be all over them.  But overnight, I'd become completely useless to the administration."  He reached her and stopped.  "Do you think there's a single Senator or Representative who will even take my call?  They won't go deal with me; they'll go straight to Leo.  They'll to go Toby or Sam.  And you know why?"

Donna shook her head.

"Because they'll think the President is keeping me on out of guilt.  They'll assume my position here is merely a token, a sort of 'Oh, hey -- sorry about that whole shooting thing; why don't you just sit in this nice office for a couple years' arrangement."

She was still shaking her head.  "No, Josh.  That's not--"

"It is!" he yelled.  "That's exactly what will happen."

"I won't let it," she answered stubbornly.  She wouldn't see him hurt because of her stupid mistake.

Josh waved a dismissive hand in the air.  "You can't stop it, Donna.  Do you understand that?"

"Josh--"

"I'm trying to fix this, Donna," he told her, an odd note of desperation in his voice.  "I need to fix this, but I need your cooperation."

Donna couldn't seem to come up with a response.

"It's the only way, Donna."  He looked almost sorry.

She wasn't sure if she should believe him that there were no other options, but the alternative -- the scenario he'd laid out so starkly -- was unacceptable.  She took a shuddering breath.  "Fine."

Josh dropped his head for a moment, hiding his face.  When he caught her gaze again, he looked almost apologetic.  Almost.  "I tried to figure out another way to play this, but I couldn't."

She waved his words off.  "It's fine, Josh."

"It is?"  He didn't believe her.

Donna took a deep breath and tried to remember how confidence felt.  "Yes.  It's fine."

Josh tilted up his chin in that way he had.  "Did you bring the diary?"  He stepped back, retreating around his desk.  Leaving her alone, standing over by the door.

"Yes," she answered.  She was incredibly proud of herself when her voice didn't shake.  "I have it.  But I have some conditions."

Josh froze.  "Excuse me?"

"We're going to do this my way," Donna told him.  She held his gaze, her expression impassive.  Thank God for those acting classes, she thought; I bet he can't even tell my self-esteem is somewhere in the subbasement with Ainsley.

"Donna--"

"No, Josh.  I am not a chess piece for you and Cliff to position."  A ghost of a smile flitted across Josh's face, but Donna wasn't much in the mood for humor.  "I'm serious, Josh."

"No one's trying to," he hesitated the slightest bit, "position you--"

Donna ignored the distasteful twist of his lips and informed him, "I'm calling Cliff.  Right now."

Josh shook his head a little bit, like he was unsure if he'd heard her correctly.  "I'm sorry?"

"If I have to sit somewhere while Cliff reads my diary -- my diary, Josh -- than I'm damn well going to be the one to decide where," she told him.

He nodded slowly.  "Are you ready?"

With the faintest smile, Donna reached for the doorknob.  "No.  Does it matter?"

***

Josh stared at the pavement, unseeing.  He really had no idea what to say.  What's the appropriate comment to your shell-shocked assistant while her ex-lover and current inquisitor sips a latté and reads her diary across the street?

"So..." he began lamely.

Beside him, Donna flinched.  "Don't say it."

Josh glanced over at her.  "I'm sorry?"

"What you were about to say, don't say it."  Her gloved hands clutched each other tightly in her lap, her frame absurdly rigid.

Josh couldn't bear to look at her.  "How do you know what I was about to say?"

"I know you, Josh," she answered, her voice low, but with a little bit of the warmth that had been missing since she returned from her deposition, "and you always manage to say exactly the wrong thing."

He nodded slowly, then said, "The Patriots lost."

Donna frowned.  "What?"

"The Pat--"

"I heard you."

Josh glanced at her again.  "So why did you--"

"Josh, please," she interrupted, her expression pained.  She met his eyes for a moment, then dropped her gaze.  "Just -- shut up."

He sat up a little, turning slightly to face her.  "So now I'm not allowed to say anything at all?" he demanded, his tone indignant.

"No," she answered tightly.

"Not even when my first remark was as innocuous as 'the Patriots lost?'"

"That wasn't your first remark."

"Actually, it was.  I just said--"

"The Patriots lost," Donna snapped.  "Yes, Josh, I heard you.  That was the first remark you said out loud, but it wasn't your first remark."

Josh stared over at her.  "You realize that you make very little sense sometimes, right?"

Donna shot him a glare.  "That was not the first remark that you wanted to say."

"I suppose you know what the first remark I--"

"'So...'" Donna drawled in a wicked imitation of Josh, "'that's Cliff.'"

Josh actually recoiled a little, leaning back and crossing his arms.  "You think that was my first remark?"

"It was," she insisted, her tone brittle.

"It really wasn't."

"Josh--"

Frustrated, Josh pointed out, "Cliff and I have met before."

It was Donna's turn to pull away.  She turned a little on the bench to stare at him.  "Excuse me?"

Realizing his misstep, Josh tried, "I already testified before the committee, Donna."

"That was weeks ago, Josh," Donna said, her eyes narrowing.  "Before he was transferred."

"Right.  But I was in that fight with Ways and Means--"

Donna's eyes were wide in the dim light, but Josh could still see the fractured look on her face when she said softly, "Don't lie to me, Josh."

"I'm not," he answered.

"You are."

Josh had to look away.  "I met Cliff before, Donna, let's just leave it at that."

"No, I really don't think we should leave it at that.  When exactly did you meet Cliff?"

"Donna--"

"Answer me, Josh," she ordered, her voice cold.

He glanced over at her and was shocked to find that she was actually shaking, whether from anger or the chill in the air, he couldn't really say.  "Look, we wouldn't even be having this conversation--"

"You know what?  Maybe we shouldn't have this conversation now."  Donna pushed herself upright, her arms crossed tightly over her body.

"Where are you going?" Josh asked, one hand reaching for her.

"Away from you."

"Donna, you can't leave."

"I'm not leaving," she admitted, sighing.  "I'm choosing another bench."

Josh watched, helpless, as Donna settled onto a bench across the wide walkway from him.  Her arms remained crossed and her gaze averted.

He scrubbed one hand over his face.  "Donna, look, I met Cliff earlier tonight--"

Donna's head snapped around.  "You what?"

"I had to.  I had to know I could trust him."

Donna shook her head.  "Josh, I told you that you could trust him."

"Your judgment doesn't seem to be all that great lately."  As soon as the words left his mouth, Josh wished he could take them back.

Across the way, Donna sat still as a statue, a wounded look frozen on her face.

Josh rose and crossed to her.  "Donna, wait a second.  What I meant was--"

"That," she whispered.  Donna moved, pushing him away.  "You meant exactly what you said, Josh."

"You slept with a Republican who's on Oversight, so, yeah, I think maybe your judgment isn't that great lately!" Josh snapped.

Donna glared at him.  "Did it ever occur to you that my personal life may be separate from this-- this thing that's happening?"

"It isn't, Donna," Josh told her in a pleading tone.  Why couldn't she understand this?  Why couldn't she understand that he was trying to protect her?  "Not when your personal life involves the enemy."

Donna laughed, sharply and bitterly.  "God, Josh, the world isn't black and white.  The Republicans aren't universally evil."

"They really are."

"Josh."

Josh shrugged.  "Maybe there are a few exceptions."

Donna nodded, her gaze falling to the sidewalk.  When she spoke again, her tone was defeated.  "I didn't think it would be like this, Josh."

Josh tried to suppress the sudden surge of panic.  "What do you mean?"

"This whole..."  She waved one gloved hand around absently.  "My life is about this now.  This administration."

"You don't want it to be?" Josh asked, honestly baffled.  He couldn't fathom how anyone could want a life apart from politics.

"Not anymore," she answered.  "At least not like this.  I wanted to have one thing in my life that wasn't about the White House or re-election or..."  Her voice trailed off.

Or me, Josh finished for her silently.

Donna stood up, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold.  "I only wanted to get away from it for a couple of hours, put it all out of my mind for a little while.  What was wrong with wanting that?"

"Nothing," Josh agreed.  "Nothing at all."

She sat back down beside him, until they were nearly touching.  "Then how the hell did I end up here?" she asked.

"Again I point out the fact that Republicans are not our friends."

"Josh."  He recognized that tone of voice.  It generally meant that he was treading on thin ice.  He usually backed down when she used that tone of voice, but not tonight.  This whole damn experience had scared the hell out of him.  Maybe he'd never practiced law, but he knew enough to realize what would happen to her if she were charged with perjury.  He desperately wanted to make sure she never made a similar mistake.

"I'm not kidding, Donna.  This is a partisan fight.  A particularly nasty partisan fight.  You think it's dirty now?  We've barely even gotten started.  These people want the White House back and they want blood and they don't care who they have to hurt to get that."

"And how are we any different?" she asked.

"Well, for starters," he said, "we're the ones under attack."

"No, I mean if it were the other way around.  If a Republican president lied about his health.  If you were in Cliff's position."

He bit back the retort that sprang immediately to mind.  Somehow he didn't think that asking Donna what position Cliff had preferred would win him any points.  "You mean would I behave better than Cliff if I were running the investigation?"

"Exactly."

He was going to say yes, of course he would.  He was going to say that he had a better sense of ethics than some slimeball who would sleep with a woman and then put her through this.  Except that when Donna looked at him like that, he couldn't lie to himself very well.

"Probably not," he admitted.

"I thought as much," Donna said, turning her face away from him again.

Josh wasn't comfortable with long stretches of silence.  He wasn't satisfied with concentrating on his internal monologue regarding all the possible outcomes of tonight's meeting with Cliff.  He most certainly wasn't happy watching Donna sit frozen with fear and humiliation.  So he asked the question partly because he needed an answer but mostly because he figured that getting angry would at least warm her up.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?" Donna replied, still not looking at him.  "Lie or sleep with Cliff?"

"Both.  Either.  The first one."

Based on the way she looked at him, his last answer was the wisest choice.  Though not by much.  "I already told you, I don't know why I did it.  They asked the question, and the next thing I knew I heard this lie coming out of my mouth."

"Doesn't matter," he told her, and he hoped his voice sounded reassuring.  "I know why."

"So that question was pretty much rhetorical.  What's next?  The part where you explain the workings of my own mind to me?"

Well, he thought, at least she's feeling something.  "All I meant was--"  He shrugged.  "I appreciate it; that's all."

She turned her pale -- and baffled -- face toward him.  "You what?"

"You took this huge risk, and I know it was because of me. So thank you."

Proving once again that the workings of Donnatella Moss' mind were more than mortal man could fathom, she started laughing.  "Of course," she said.  "Of course that's why you think I did it.  Because my life has to revolve around you, doesn't it?"

"That's not what I meant.  It's just -- you said yourself you'd written stuff about my--"  He hated that he still had trouble saying the words out loud.  "--about the problems I had last Christmas.  And since you didn't write about the President..."  He let his voice trail off and prayed that she wouldn't deny it.

"Josh, I was not thinking about you at all.  They asked, I opened my mouth, and the word 'no' came out.  After that, all I could think was how devastating it would be to have someone reading my private thoughts.  A good twenty minutes went by before I realized that the stuff in there about you might be damaging."

"See?  How I have any ego left after four years with you -- that's what I can't figure."

She looked away from him, adding softly, "But I probably would have lied for you if I'd thought about it."

"Yeah," he said, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears.  He reached for her hand, then stopped himself when he realized they were in public.  Even if he didn't see any photographers hiding in bushes, it wouldn't hurt to be cautious.

"As for why I slept with him--"

"I don't want to know," he said too quickly.

"Good," she replied, "because I was going to tell you that it's none of your business."

"He's not good enough for you."

"You never think anyone's good enough for me," she pointed out.

"Not true.  I think you have an unerring ability to pick the wrong man is all."

"This is not a subject I want to discuss with you right now.  Or ever, come to that."

He felt the need to protect her, to make her see just how close her actions had brought them to disaster.  "He was willing to sell you out, Donna."

"And yet he didn't."

"He would have.  Did you know that he was investigating us when he -- when you--"

"We are not discussing this," she repeated.

"He knew."  Josh heard the rage in his voice again and saw Donna flinch.  But he went on because she'd scared him today and because he had to make her understand the danger she was in.  "He knew, and then he used you, and he was this close to turning you in.  He was just waiting to find a way to do that and save his own ass in the bargain."

"Maybe it's more complicated than that for him," she said.  "It's certainly more complicated than that for me."

Horrified that she was still defending this weasel, Josh fairly jumped off the bench and began pacing around, running a hand through his hair in frustration.  "You cannot believe this asshole cared about you."

"Not seriously, no.  I'm just saying that it's complicated."  She looked away from him and shrugged.  "People are complicated.  Sometimes it's hard to know what's the right thing to do."

"For future reference, Donna, sleeping with Republicans?  Definitely the wrong thing to do."

He expected her to yell at him, but instead she replied conversationally, "You know, that never used to be on my list of first-date questions."

"What?"  He looked down at her, huddled there against the cold, and wondered where this line of conversation was headed.

"'Do you come here often?'  'What's your sign?'  'What's your political affiliation?'"

"'What's your sign?'"  He found himself laughing.  "You never actually--"

"No, but once it would have been as relevant as asking whether someone was a Republican or a Democrat.  I'm just saying that I never expected my life to become so partisan."

"That's DC.  And it's not going to change."

"No," she said.  "It's not.  But maybe I am."

He forced himself to stamp down the rising sense of panic her determined tone fostered.  And banish the image of Donna marching into her lawyer's office to confess.  "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I don't want to be the sort of person who lies automatically."

"You're not."  He wanted to add that she was, usually, embarrassingly forthright.  That she was, in fact, his conscience.  But he couldn't find a way to say those things that wouldn't make him look weak.

"I was today.  I didn't like myself very much today."

"I loved you today."

She turned a stunned face up to him, and he backpedaled as fast as he could.  "What I mean is," he said, "that was some excellent politicking you did today, Donnatella.  Seriously, whatever you said to Cliff?  You had the guy rattled.  He was looking for an out before I even met with him.  You did half the work for me there.  I was proud of you."

"So my most attractive features are my abilities to lie and manipulate?"

"Always worked for me," he joked.

"I can't be that person, Josh.  I don't want to be her.  I want to be someone who does what's right, not what's expedient."

As opposed to your boss, he thought bitterly.  "Well, with all due respect, I don't think you get to claim the high moral ground today."

"No, I don't," she admitted.  "But I'd like to reclaim the middle ground at least."

"What does that mean?"

"October fourth and fifth."

"Two dates I hope never to hear again."

"We don't use them.  No matter what."

He looked at her, stunned into silence for the moment.  "Yes, we do," he said.  "They're our only leverage."

"They're blackmail.  However you look at it, they're blackmail.  Using that makes us no better than them."

"We are no better than them."

"Yes, Josh, you are.  And so am I," she added, as though she'd just this minute convinced herself of the fact.  "If Cliff decides to subpoena--"

"If the bastard thinks he can get away with that--"

"No."

"This is no time for you to turn stubborn."

"This isn't stubborn," she said.  This is me making a choice."

"And your recent choices have been so well thought out."

That hurt her, he could tell.  But she blinked once and didn't cry, didn't say anything that gave him a chance to comfort her.  Instead, she nodded slowly and said, "And it won't be the last time in my life I make a wrong choice.  But I'd rather face up to my mistakes than let you and Cliff make all my decisions for me.  So we'll wait and we'll hear him out; and with any luck, he won't issue a subpoena.  But if he does, that's the end of it.  I'm not going to be responsible for dragging him through the mud, no matter how much I'd probably enjoy that right now.  That's not who I'm going to be.  You understand?"

He looked at her, nodded and sat back down beside her on the bench, close but not quite touching.

And when she turned her face away from him again, he touched the jacket pocket where he'd stashed the entries for October fourth and fifth.

Because Donna being hurt by this was not an option.  He was going to keep her safe.

Even if he had to lie to her to do it.

THE END

12.02.01