Words of Truth.

By Jaye Reid 

 Rating: PG-15 - for adult language and sexual themes

 Category:  J/D - R, PWP, C. Current time/flashback/current time.

 Spoilers: basically anything up to War Crimes is fair game.

 Disclaimer:  Yep, not mine, not likely to be.  Property of the brilliant AS, and Warner Bros.  Taken out for a spin and returned unharmed.

Summary:  Loose lips can sink ships... or provide some decent entertainment.

Archiving:  Yes please, just drop me a note and let me know where so I can brag to my friends.

Authors notes:  Okay, I'm a self-confessed spoiler junkie.  I won't get to see season 3 until February.  But I have written this very loosely around all the wonderful spoilers that I have read on the various lists.

Feedback would be lovely if you have time.

Thanks to everyone who gave me such wonderful feedback for my first effort - I hope you enjoy this second one.

Big thanks once again to the brilliant Bridget for beta reading for me.

~*~*~

6.00 am.

How do I know it's 6.00 am?  Because I can hear my alarm going crazy in my bedroom down the hall.

Ahhh, you noticed that?

In my bedroom down the hall... implying that I'm not in there myself.

Good pick up.

No, I'm not in my bedroom.  I'm sitting on my lounge room floor.

Yes.  Why would I be sitting on my lounge room floor at 6.00 am?  It's so I can make sure Josh stays lying on his side.

I get up and go to my room, to shut the alarm off.  It's cool in here this morning so I grab the rug off my bed and wrap it around my shoulders.  I'm wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt.  Considerably more than I was wearing last night when Josh turned up at my door, I recall, as I head back, curling up in a chair to wait for him to wake up.

Yes, Joshua Lyman pulled a good one last night and turned up almost... well I don't know what ... drunk seems such an inadequate word to describe him last night - at one point I *did* consider taking him to the hospital with possible alcohol poisoning.  However knowing how much he *loves* hospitals, I instead have sat here all night and made sure that he is lying safely on his side on my sofa.

I'm such a good assistant... but I don't remember *this* being in the job description.  However I won't be too harsh about that, considering I don't think saving his assistant's ass because she was stupid and lied to the bastard she slept with about owning a diary, someone who had the power to destroy all their careers, is in *his* job description.

Actually I'm fairly sure it *isn't* in his job description.  It probably tells him to fire anyone who committed anything far less catastrophic.

Not to save them.

Oh well... can't say I do anything by halves.

But last night... what a night it was.  I was asleep, and then...

*********

Oh my God!

I bury my head under the covers and wonder if I hum to myself long enough I will drown him out and then - like magic - he'll be gone.  I hum a few bars of the National Anthem.  And guess what?

It's not going to work.

The pounding on my door has stopped, but he is still singing.

I throw back the covers and grab my robe.  He's drunk.  He's soooo obviously drunk.  But somehow he still remembers the words to Oklahoma.  How freaky is that?  Well, freaky and Joshua Lyman seem to fit together I guess.

I open the door and there he is.  He has at least been home at some stage because he's changed his clothes from earlier when we met Cliff.  Now he's sitting on the floor leaning against the wall opposite my door - and still singing.

"Josh! Shut up for goodness sake!" I growl at him.

He stops and looks at me with a blank expression.

"How are... Ado Annie," he stammers.

Oh here we go again.  Yeah, the girl who can't say no.  It used to be just about some gomer I was dating.  Gomer... damn!  He's invading my vocabulary!

But tonight... no tonight is about Cliff being both a republican and on the Oversight committee.  And I'm fairly sure the fact that I slept with Cliff when I hardly knew him has something to do with this too.

I never said I was a damn saint.  I'm human, flesh and blood - I have needs!  And it had been a very long time since those needs had been met.  Not that Cliff totally met the needs I had... but anyway I digress.

After the whole diary reading fiasco earlier tonight, I just came home.  I thought he was going home too. 

Seems not.

He's just sitting there, looking up at me.  My God, he still has a beer with him!  He takes a swig, but I can see that the bottle is empty, and he discovers it too.  

"Empty."

"Hmm, you noticed that Joshua, maybe you're not as..."

I was going to say, 'as drunk as I thought' but he raised the empty bottle to his lips again with the exact same result and expression.  What?  He wasn't sure the *first* time?

He is sooo totally wasted.

"Are you going to come in?" I ask.  He looks up at me, trying to focus.

"You're not bussssy with a re...pub...l'can?" he slurs.

Oh this is so not going to be pretty.  I really feel like telling him to go and fuck himself and slam the door, but I know he wouldn't leave and I think we've probably given my neighbors enough entertainment for one night.

I reach down and take his arm, dragging him up from the floor.  Well as much as I can.  He's such a dead weight when he's drunk.  As freakishly strong as I supposedly am, this is a grown man - who is starting to show some wear and tear from those lunches on the Hill and eating far too much fast food - and he's not easy to move.  I manage to haul his ass onto the sofa before turning to lock and bolt the door.  When I turn around he has sort of slid sideways on the lounge.

He is still holding on the empty bottle so I go to take it from him, but he grabs my wrist.  Not hard, I mean I could break free in half a second, but I just stand there because really, this is not something he does all the time.

I look down at him and he gives me one of his pitiful looks.

"Why?" he asks.

Oh, now *there's* a loaded question.

Why does he drink to excess?

Why is it that whenever he does, he can always find his way to my apartment?

Why is the world round?

Why is that beer bottle empty?

"Josh..."

"Donna... why him?"

I can't say anything.

He can.

"Didja have to sleep with him?  If you wanted... what sa wrong 'bout me?  Ya screw him... not me..."

Okay, remember before when I said tonight was about Cliff being both a Republican and on the Oversight Committee and I thought it *might* have a little to do with me sleeping with him?  Well scrap that theory... obviously Cliff being a Republican and on Oversight has nothing to do with this.  Josh is pissed, both figuratively and literally speaking.

Why?

Because I slept with someone that wasn't him.

"Josh..."

"Because you know Donnnnnnaaaaa... I think y'd... c'mon let me show... I can be... I've wanted... for a lonnnnng time," he rambles.  Really anyone who didn't know him as well would have difficulty figuring out what on earth he was saying. 

But basically, the condensed version?

He's wanted to have sex with me for a long time.

Well that is an interesting little fact to be told.

And no, I don't think he's making it up.  He’s very drunk, and my mother always told me the only people who tell the truth were children and drunks.  And guess what... I think at the moment, Josh falls into both categories!

Now I haven't managed to say anything to him so far, other than his name, because the man keeps interrupting me with his drunken babble.  So I figure the odds are not in my favour to complete a sentence so I merely shake my head.

"You don't want to screw me Don'tella," he accuses.

"I didn't say..."

"What, I'm not good enough?"

******

His eyes flutter a little and then they open carefully, one at a time.  He sees me, I think.

"Owwwww Donna, my head..."

Yep he can see me.  He’s going to be so hung-over.  And already he should be able to tell I haven't had my sympathy pill today.  Ha!  Wait until he finds that I'm out of them!

"I have this awful sick feeling..." he starts as he runs a hand through his wild hair, but I interrupt his sentence.

"That would probably be your sensitive stomach.  Or perhaps the bile taste in your mouth still?  You know, it tends to linger..."

"I was sick?" he asks weakly.

"Joshua, do you have any trousers on?"

He sticks his head under the rug.  I mean... come on, can't this guy *tell* if he has trousers on without looking?  Seems not!

"I threw up on myself?" he asks with a tone of self-disgust.

"No, mostly you threw up on my lounge room rug.  And with that I must ask, what the hell were you drinking?  I swear Josh you'll be buying me a new rug if the stain doesn't come out!"

He groans and buries his face under the rug.  "I think I've died and gone to hell."

I don't like it when he makes reference to him like, you know... dying.  Considering he, well ... nearly did.  But he seems to be able to make these off handed comments like a normal person... well a person who *hasn't* had the experience of nearly dying - because he is in no way like a normal person, so I tend to follow his lead.

And his lead at the moment is apparently to follow him to hell.

"Yes, Joshua Lyman, welcome to hell.  I'm Donna Moss and I'll be your tour guide for this trip.  We will be cruising at an altitude of a couple of million miles below sea level.  It might get a little warm at the end of our journey so we hope you have packed accordingly." I rattle off in my best perky voice.

"I suppose there isn't a chance that you've got an air stewardess uniform tucked away with that catholic schoolgirl uniform?" he says pulling the blanket from his face.

Ohhh he thinks he can smooth talk or make embarrassing comments to me and I will back off...

Not this time Mister!

"Not a chance in *hell*" I toss back at him.

He looks at me seriously for a moment... well as seriously as he can manage.  Look out, he's thinking, and that's not a good sign.  But I know what he is thinking, and I don't know why he doesn't just come out and ask.  We play this game every time he gets drunk and comes and crashes on my couch.  Except the ending is going to be different this time.  I'm not letting him off the hook because, quite frankly, this time it's a bit more serious and I'm sick of living in the dark.

"Donna."

"Yes Josh?"

"I didn't... I wasn't... I didn't say anything last night that I should know about... Like I wasn't insulting...  you know I can't remember much when I'm drunk.  I remember singing, and I think I probably owe your neighbors big time - again."  

You see there it was... predictable.  And when he asks me usually, I bury whatever he has said and tell him, that he came in and basically passed out straight away without muttering anything coherent.  Usually the most he chatters about is office gossip.  Which is quite funny when he tells me, because he makes out that he is telling me some big secret about some of the people we work with.  Or not even people we work with... which confuses him a little I think because he's not sure who they are, but he knows some interesting tidbits about them.  Want to know why he's not sure who they are?  Because it was *me* who told him all the gossip that he is retelling me in the first place!  Well at least I know he's listening to me, even when he says he doesn't care.  Other than that, he tends to just tell me that I'm very valuable to him and very pretty.  He seems to add the second as an after thought.  Not last night.

Anyway, back to Josh lying on my sofa waiting for me to tell him that he'd said nothing.

"Well you did ask me why I'd screw a Republican and not you," I offered matter of factly.  "So do you want to get down to it now, or is it only something you want to do with me when you're drunk?"

Let's just say that the look of pure horror on his face should be classified as a truly Kodak moment.  I think we are going to have a few of those.

"Donna!  I didn't... I wouldn't... tell me I didn't... please tell me I didn't say that?" he asks and buries his face under the blanket again.

Ha!  He wasn't expecting *that* answer.

"Yes Joshua, that's exactly what you said," I reply.

He's quiet.  Very quiet and he doesn't move for several minutes.  Perhaps he's fallen asleep under there?  I lean over remove the blanket from his face.  He opens his eyes and looks at me. 

"Did I just dream it, or did I just ask you if I said anything and you told me I said..."

"Would you like me to repeat it Josh?" I ask.

He shakes his head a little.  Then realizes that wasn't a good idea as he grimaces in pain, shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again.

"Donna... if you have chosen to lead off with that morsel of inappropriate behavior, does this mean that it got worse?  Because if that's how you view breaking it too me gently..."

"It gets worse Josh," I say.

"And you're going to tell me everything I said... aren't you?" he cringes.

"Pretty much," I reply.  "Do you want coffee?"

"Ohhh God no.  You're offering me coffee?  Ohh this is baddd, sooo baddd," he moans and pulls the blanket over him again.

I take that as a yes and go to make coffee. 

=*=

I walk back in with the coffee, and he is lying there watching me.  He has moved himself up so that he is sort of sitting up, but he has the rug wrapped firmly around his lower body.  I walk back out and return with some painkillers - nice strong ones that I know he needs - and a glass of water.

"Thanks," he says as he takes the glass and pills.  He throws the tablets down his throat and drinks the water quickly.  I take the empty glass and place it on the coffee table beside his steaming mug of coffee.

"Donna... I just want to say I'm sorry for whatever it was I said, I didn't mean it honestly," he offers.

Hmm, ***buzz*** nice try Mr. Lyman but that answer was incorrect.  You miss out on the money but here... take this nice fruit basket as a consolation prize.

"Well, nice of you to try and crush my ego like that Josh.  Don't you think there's room for yours *and* mine in the one room?  Really, don't you think you should find out what you said *first* before you go and deny it?"

"I said some nice things?" he asks with a faint smile.

Ohhh he thinks he's off the hook!  I wait until he has swallowed a mouthful of his coffee and has put it back on the table in front of us.  Because quite frankly, I don't want to wear it!

"I think your words were, 'I want... every inch of your body... with my tongue and show you you're special.'  I guess you might classify that as *nice* once you decipher it," I reply.

Oh there's that look of horror again!  Yet another Kodak moment.

"Oh... I... I... don't know what to say Donna." He offers.

"That's okay," I reply brightly.  "I think you said all of it last night."

"I said more didn't I?" he asks - another grimace.

"Ohhh yes."

"Donna... if umm... I said anything that... if you want to take this to Leo, well I would understand. I mean it's your right..."

"Josh I'm not going to run to Leo just because you said and did..."

He yelped.  It was a high pitch yelp.  Oops, I failed to mention the *did* part of last night didn't I?

Yes I'm evil.

Truly evil.

But hey, I'm the tour guide on this hell trip for him... I will be as evil as I want.  I've told him what he said; now I need to tell him what he did.

"Donna... I did something, didn't I?"

"Yes Josh."

He closes his eyes and looks so totally exhausted.  I almost feel sorry for him.  Hey!  I said 'almost.'

He opens his eyes and looks at me. I think he is trying to figure out how much serious shit he's in.  But because as far as I'm concerned he isn't in any, he just can't figure out my expression.

"I think I remember..." he starts, and then focuses on a spot on my ceiling. 

The spot is actually a dead bug that my roommate, who is thankfully at her boyfriends apartment, squashed the other night and failed to remove.

"You had your fluffy robe on," he says softly looking at me. Half trying to recall the memory and half trying to gauge my reaction *to* him recalling the memory.  "I sort of remember reaching out and, and... you had something soft and silky on under it."

"I had nothing on under it Josh," I inform him.

"Nothing?" Oh that look again.

"Nothing, naked, no clothes," I continued. "You reached up and..."

"No, please don't tell me!"

Ha!

As if *that's* going to happen today!

"You reached up and ran your fingers down here," I say as I trail a finger, just as he did last night, from my collarbone to my waist, between my breasts.  "My robe must have come open slightly while I was trying to keep you upright on the sofa.  Just before you threw up actually.  You told me I had skin as soft as silk," I smile.

Damn!

I'm smiling.

I don't want him to think he's totally off the hook - yet.

Obviously I don't have to worry, I think he's too horrified by his actions that he's missed the fact that I smiled.

"Am I about to be charged with sexual harassment?" he asks meekly.

"For that?" I give a little fake laugh.  "That was nothing Josh, although I'd be surprised if you don't have bruises, because after that you basically wrapped your hands around my ass and pulled me down on top of you on the sofa..."

"No!  He exclaims in total disagreement.  Really, I don't think he's in any position to argue with me.  After all, the man is on my sofa with no trousers and a rug over him.

"Josh... yes."

"No, I wouldn't... I couldn't do that to you I just..."

He has his eyes closed now.  He's searching his memory.  Last night I wish I could have captured *that* Kodak moment for real, just in case he didn't remember it.  It's such a shame because...

"I told you I loved you and then I kissed you."

Oh my... he does remember!  He's staring straight at me.

"I told you I loved you and then I kissed you," he repeated.  He's smiling - he remembered something and it was an important something to remember.  Not completely accurate, but almost.

"You didn't kiss me," I tell him.  "I kissed you."

"You did?"

"Yes Joshua."

"But I told you I loved you didn't I?"

"Yes Josh, and I told you I loved you too."

"I'm gonna hate myself for asking this Donna, but usually one would expect that after we umm... did something like that... there would be a something good after it that I really *should* remember..."

"In most cases there should be Joshua, but not long after that you basically groaned - and no it wasn't *that* sort of groan, and muttered something about feeling unwell.  By the time I got out of your lap, you had just enough time to puke your guts up on the rug."

"Oh."

"Yes *oh* Josh.  You know you are such a romantic!  By the time I cleaned you up and it up, you were sound asleep.  Not that I think you would have been at all capable of showing me what a fantastic lover you claimed you were.  Some of your other descriptions of what you wanted to do with me were fairly interesting though."

"I don't think I want to know what I said, do I?"

"Probably not," I reply.

"How do I fix this Donna?" he asks seriously. "Can I fix this without you wanting to leave because I would understand if you felt you couldn't work with me..."

Oh he is remorseful.  I like remorseful Josh.  Usually I would make all sorts of demands - all the ones I know he would never follow through with, like the pay rise and the holiday in Hawaii.  It would be my way of letting him safely off the hook to go and fight battles again.

I think he must have filed the bit of information about me kissing him after he told me he loved me, and the fact that I returned the sentiment.  All he is focusing on is the 'dragging me onto him' bit - and I really think it was the weight of my body on his stomach that did the trick - my poor rug! 

How could I want to leave the man who tells me he loves me?

Remember mother's words... children and drunks...

"Dinner." I announce.

"Dinner?" he repeats.  Really is there an echo in this room?

"Yes Joshua.  I want you to take me to dinner."

"That's it?  I behave like..."

"Like a jealous man who has wanted something he didn't think he could have."  

"That wasn't exactly what I was going to say Donna.  Me jealous?  It's not within my...  Didn't *think* I could have?"

Time to throw his words back at him again.  "You go out with all the gomers in DC... I wished it was me."

"I said that?  I thought you said before I didn't say anything else?" he quizzes.

"Oh Joshua you said so many things, it's not likely that I am going to be able to remember them all in one sitting." I chuckle.

"So..."

"Yes Josh, dinner.  Somewhere nice so I *can* get all dressed up for you.  Just like you've always wanted."

"Somehow I don't think I deserve you all dressed up for me," he offers.

Oh now it's humble Josh.

Hmm...

Drunk Josh.

Sulking Josh,

Pitiful Josh,

Jealous Josh...

Summer in hell - Holiday Josh

Humble Josh...

Now there's a line for Mattel to look into!

And they could go all the way and have accessories.  Drunk Josh could be sold with empty beer bottles... well two, because we all know that's all it usually takes.  Although I expect he went well above *that* quota last night.  The doll - and he'd call it an action figure - would have totally unruly hair - more so than usual - and come with it's own stick on plastic vomit.

Gross!

Holiday Josh would come complete with attire for this little trip into hell - because we all know if it wasn't complete he'd leave half his stuff at home.  Nice little Hawaiian shirt perhaps, heavy-duty sunglasses for the hell fires, 30+ block out and cute little devils horns.  Perhaps boxers that pronounce him a 'horny little devil' like I have seen in the department stores...  Hmm... perhaps not... I don't know if I want anyone else having *that* 'action figure' to play with!

Okay, where was I?  Oh yes, humble Josh thinking I shouldn't want to dress up for him.  Well I think I might like to *undress* for him, but this he can find out for himself - if he's lucky.

"Dinner," I repeat.

"Okay when?" he asks, "tonight?"

"No Josh, not tonight."  I stop and think.  "Next Saturday night.  We'll leave the office at a reasonable hour - which will be so deemed by me because I control your appointment book and there will be no going to work on Sunday."

"Donna, I don't know if..."

"Oh I think I remember something *else* you said," I start.

He stops me... funny about that.

"You're really enjoying this aren't you?" he asks.

Huh?  He has to ask?

"Okay... dinner next Saturday night, no work on Sunday.  Where will we go?" he asks.

"I'll book somewhere nice," I tell him.  He knows by 'nice' I mean expensive.

Hey, I'm going to have to throw my rug out for sure.

He seems resigned to the fact that this is his fate for last night.  When he thinks about it later, when he's feeling better, I think he might just realize that this isn't a punishment.  Well, no.  He probably won't realize.  It's when he goes off and confesses to Sam about what he did, that *Sam* will no doubt point out that this sounds rather... hmm.  And then he will wear that look on his face when he first sees me after their discussion before it turns into the panic expression.

Oh there's a couple more for Mattel.

Cocky Josh and Panic Josh.

The first would come complete with...

Okay... hold that train of thought.  Those Mattel people aren't very crafty when it comes to plastic.  I mean have you seen the Ken doll?  I don't know, but if I was Barbie I'd be expecting a little more than what *he's* got!

"Okay, I think I should go home now and get ready for work," he says, as he goes to throw the rug off himself.  But he stops.

"Um, Donna... I don't... I've only got my..."

"I will go and see if my roommate's boyfriend left any track pants here," I tell him and I head off into her room.  I'm sure he has a few things here and I manage to find a pair of sweats that will fit Josh.  Actually they're far too big but the choices?  Vomit covered trousers, well they were, they are not just wet trousers because I have them soaking, or oversized track pants?

I know which I would choose.

"Thanks," he says as I hand them to him.

He just sits there...

"What?" I ask.

"Donna do you think you could..."

"Oh for goodness sake!  You think your trousers took themselves off you?  Who do you think helped?" I ask.  But I know him too well... so I pick up the empty coffee cups and head into the kitchen.

"Hey Donna... I'm ah..." he calls.

"See you at work.  You've got a meeting with Leo and Senator Wilson at nine," I call.

No, I'm not going out there.  Why should I?  It's not the first time he's fallen asleep drunk on my sofa, and it may not be the last.  Okay it was the first time that we both proclaimed that we loved each other, but I'm not sure where that leads us at the moment, and I know he doesn't either.  I guess we both just need to ignore it for a little while until we figure it out.  And anyway, he knows where the door is, actually right now I'm waiting to hear it open and then click shut.

"Donna?"

Yikes!  And they think *CJ* needs a bell.  He's leaning in the doorway, and I didn't hear him get there.

"Yes Josh?" I reply as I compose myself before I turn and look at him.

I chuckle to myself, he is dishevelment personified.

"You did kiss me and tell me you loved me," he states.

"Yes," I reply.  Obviously he has decided to venture back to that point.  "You told me you loved me and you kissed me back."

He tilts his head "So... we're even then?"

I laugh openly.  I mean hello?

"Didn't think so," he replies with a bit of a grin before turning toward the door.

"Don't forget staff at eight." I call after him.

"Don't forget to bring me coffee," he calls back before I hear the door close behind him.

I grin to myself...

Yeah - when hell freezes over.

Oh now there's another one.

Holiday in hell Josh, with jacket, scarf, gloves and walking frame and hearing aid and...

THE END.

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