"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Josh looks up from the memo he's reading and nods, his eyebrows raised slightly in curiosity. "Yeah. What's up?"

Donna takes the time to slowly close the office door behind her, using each moment as another opportunity to bolster her nerve (chutzpah, she would like to say, but Josh would probably laugh at her). She's been over this in her head a thousand times, but now that she's here and he's here and she has to say the words her throat is closing up and choking off her flow of oxygen. Fighting down the panic building in her chest, she takes a step forward and clears her throat. "I -- I need to tell you that -- Josh, I'm quitting."

His mouth falls open in shock and she winces. That was not how she had rehearsed it; when she'd gone through her planned speech in front of the mirror that morning she had presented her case with logic and dispassion and concern for his welfare. She doesn't know what made her blurt it out like that, like she's telling him she's going out for lunch and would he like a roast beef sandwich since she's going to be at the deli anyway? She swallows, her mouth dry. "I'm sorry, that's now how I meant to --"

"You're quitting?" Josh says, and she can tell that he doesn't quite believe it, he's waiting for her to announce it's a prank, that CJ put her up to it to get back at him for that beanstalk comment he made the other day, something. He's waiting for her to throw him a life preserver.

"Yes," she says instead. "I've been offered a job by Congressman Riley. Her assistant chief of staff, which is ironic, I guess, if you think about it."

"When did this happen?" he asks, concentrating, as usual, on the least important detail.

"I had lunch with her last week, and she offered me the position yesterday," Donna says. "I'm giving two weeks' notice, of course, there's going to be a lot to organize before I go, and I'll be happy to help you look for another assistant --"

"How much is she paying you?" Josh asks. "Tell me what she's paying you, and I'll see what I can do. I'll squeeze blood from the GAO stone if I have to."

She closes her eyes briefly, and not having to look at him for one moment is a blessed relief. "Josh, it's not about the money. If it were just about the money I wouldn't have said yes."

"Then what is it about?" he asks. He gets up from his chair and stands before her, scratches his forehead the way he does when his mind is whirling. "I don't understand."

"I...I can't do this anymore," she says, and wishes, vainly, that this could possibly be easier, for both of them. Her heart actually hurts, a dull pain inside her chest. "I can't spend the rest of my life making your phone calls and filing your briefs and scheduling your appointments. I need to do more, Josh, and you know that. I've told you that. I thought you understood that."

"I thought you were, you know, just talking," Josh says. "I didn't know you were going to -- why didn’t you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"You know what I mean." He takes another step closer to her. They are only inches apart and it's not helping Donna with her supposedly iron resolve. "Why didn't you come talk to me before making such a huge decision? A decision which, I might add, affects me as much as it affects you."

"And what would you have done if I had?" she wonders. "Would you have been able to offer me substantive new responsibilities? Would you have offered me a promotion, another position here in the West Wing? Or would you have blown me off and decided you'd worry about it when you actually had to worry about it?"

"That's not fair," he says.

"Isn't it?" She clenches her fists at her sides, then releases them, wipes her sweaty palms on her skirt. "What would you have done, Josh?" she says again.

"I would've..." He trails off, runs a hand through his unruly hair. "I would've thought of something," he says, almost petulantly.

"Right." Suddenly leaving is easy, suddenly she wants nothing so much as to leave him on his own, forced to fend for himself for the first time in seven years. "I have to go tell personnel," she says, and reaches for the doorknob.

He reaches out with surprising speed and grabs her wrist. She gasps, feels her heart beat faster, adrenaline starting to pump in her veins. "Josh?"

"I don't want you to leave, Donna," he says, his voice a scratchy rasp. "I don't want you to leave me."

His face is very close to hers, now; she can feel his breath on her face, can see the panic in his dark brown eyes. "I have to," she says pleadingly. She blinks back hot tears, feels one fall, tickling her cheek.

Josh reaches up with his thumb to brush the tear away, then, almost as if he's in a trance, slowly trails his thumb down to her lower lip. "Don't," he whispers, and presses his lips to hers.

Donna stiffens in surprise, knows she should pull away and quite possibly slap him for good measure, but then his tongue flickers over her lips and the next thing she knows she is opening up beneath him, taking his tongue into her mouth, shivering at the taste of him, stale coffee and donuts and Josh. His hands tangle in her hair, gripping so tightly it hurts. She lays her hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscle through the thin material of his dress shirt, and then he pulls back on her hair, forcing her head back, and he moves his mouth to her neck, sucking and biting frantically at her skin.

"Josh," she murmurs, even as the voice inside her head is saying stop, stop now, what the hell are you doing and you're in the White House, for god's sake, and you're letting him do this to you and oh god, his hand is on her breast, and she feels the delicious sensation of her nipples tightening and if he would just move his fingers an inch to the left…

"God, I want you," he breathes against her ear.

"Here?" she manages to squeak.

"Here, now, always," he says. He quickly undoes the buttons on her blouse and pushes it down her arms, and her skin pebbles in the cool air of the office. He sinks down and traces his mouth over her breasts, her chest, her abdomen, hot breath and wet tongue on her skin, and she bites her lip in pleasure, presses her palms to the top of his head, unable to believe it is Josh who is now tonguing her nipple through the thin material of her bra. She moans in the back of her throat, and at the sound he straightens back up and kisses her again. She kisses him back hungrily as he slowly inches her backwards, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the visitor's chair, and she falls unceremoniously onto it, legs splayed, her butt half-hanging off the seat. Josh pushes up her skirt around her waist and drags her pantyhose down with surprising speed, then fumbles at his belt buckle.

"We shouldn't," she whispers, but he kisses her again and swallows her protests, and his hands keep working at his pants, and soon she feels the head of his cock pushing against her. Josh takes her hips and pulls her closer to him, so that she's completely slumped in the chair, almost horizontal, and as she spreads her legs as wide as they'll go he grabs hold of his cock and pushes himself inside of her, hard.

She bites back a whimper of pain and forces her muscles to relax, to adjust themselves to his presence. He pulls out very slowly, waits a moment, and then pushes back in again, and it's easier this time, it's not as painful, and when he thrusts yet again she starts to feel the familiar warm pleasure building. She opens her eyes and can't believe what she's seeing, Josh with his pants down around his ankles, still wearing his shirt and tie, Donna with her shirt open and her skirt bunched around her waist, Josh leaning over her, one hand on the arm rest and the other on her hip, pumping into her with a determined look on his face.

This is not happening, she thinks dimly, but then he groans her name and she knows that it is. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine they're somewhere else, someplace with a big fluffy bed and candlelight and soft music, anything but this, rough and hurried and oh god what if someone knocks?

And still in the back of her mind she keeps thinking, Josh is inside me, I am having sex with Josh and the world isn't ending and oh god that feels good and why didn't we do this years ago and oh god --

"Oh god," he says, a guttural moan, and his hips jerk wildly and his cock moves faster and faster inside of her and then he spends himself with a hot rush that warms her inside and makes her wonder if she took her pill that morning.

She's about to try to move out from under him when his thumb clumsily finds her clit, and as he presses persistently at the sensitive bit of flesh her own breathing hitches and oh, she opens her eyes and he's watching her face with such a look of adoration she almost doesn't recognize him, and his thumb continues its relentless caresses and it's too much, she can't hold it in, and then she's coming, twitching against his hand, hips rising and falling and she bites her own arm to keep from crying out.

When she comes back to herself she opens her eyes and Josh is pulling out of her, turning away from her as he pulls his pants back up, and she wonders why he's choosing to be modest, now, it's a little late for that, isn't it? She pulls up her underwear and shimmies back into her pantyhose, wincing at the wetness that pools in her crotch, and hopes she can make it to the bathroom quickly, without anyone noticing anything odd about her appearance.

And now that it's over she's overcome with anger and sadness, and she can't quite believe he's done this to her. She knows she has no one to blame but herself, ultimately, in the heat of the moment she wanted it just as much as he did, but her underwear is wet and she's buttoning up her blouse and he's watching her with this hopeful smile on his face and she thinks that in that moment she hates him.

He reaches out to touch her hair and she tries not to flinch away. "That was amazing," he says, and his eyes are dancing.

"It doesn't change anything," she says, the words leaden in her mouth. "I'm still leaving."

He blinks and pulls back his hand, lets it fall to his side. "But I thought --"

"That if you had sex with me I'd fall under your spell and never leave?" she says, rage building inside of her, and she's not sure if it's fair, but dammit, she doesn't even care at this point and "What just happened -- that was, that was manipulative and selfish and I can't believe you think it suddenly makes everything all right." She's shaking, she realizes, she's not sure she's ever been reduced to shaking before, and she doesn't like it.

"Donna," he says, mouth opening and closing, and she wildly thinks of Gail the goldfish and digs her nails into her palm to keep from letting loose hysteria-tinged laughter. "Donna -- I love you." Desperate words of a drowning man.

She shakes her head, feels tears gathering again. "I love you too, Josh. I've loved you for years, I've loved you more than I should. And that's why what just happened is so sad. Can't you see that?"

"No," he says, and the sound is so forlorn it tears at her heart. His face is haunted, suddenly, tinted with old shadows.

"God, Josh, that was -- is that really how you wanted it to be between us? How you want it to be between us? Did that make you feel better?"

"It wasn't ideal, no, but... Why are you saying these things?" he asks. "You just told me that you love me."

"I do. But what we just did? That was desperation, that wasn't love."

"It was for me," he says stubbornly.

She presses her fingers to her forehead, willing her head to stop spinning. "Whatever it was, the issue hasn't changed. I'm taking the job. Don't you see?" she asks, more gently than she's been speaking. "I need to be my own person, Josh. I need to figure out who I am without you. I need to leave."

"But what about -- what about us?" he asks, his voice breaking.

She steps closer to him, rests her hand on his heart. "I don't know," she says honestly. "I think that's part of what I need to figure out. And what you need to figure out, too."

"I want to be with you," he says. "I don't need to figure that out. There's nothing to figure out. It's simple, it's done."

She smiles, then, struck by his sweetness despite her anger and her sadness. "I know you think that, but -- we need to find out if that's still true when I'm not at your beck and call every day."

"Do you think that little of me?" he asks bitterly, looking away from her.

"No," she says swiftly, then, "I don't think so."

He lets out a harsh laugh. "Thanks for the ringing endorsement."

"Josh, I --" Suddenly she can't take it anymore, she's falling back into her usual pattern of trying to please him no matter what, and she shouldn't have to, and he's looking at her with those eyes and it's too much, she can't give him what he needs, what he seems to want to take, not now. She can't. "I have to go." She moves away from him, and the loss of contact is like a knife in her flesh. "I have to go to the bathroom and personnel is waiting for me and -- I have to go." She reaches for the doorknob, twists it violently.

"Donna," he starts, his hand grasping empty air.

"Not now," she says, looking back at him. She bites her lip, hard. "I can't." She opens the office door and walks rapidly down the hall of the bullpen, ignoring him as he calls out her name.

End.