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[josh pov]

"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." - Albert Einstein

"In politics, stupidity is not a handicap" - Napoleon Bonaparte

"I hope the ambitious realise that they are more likely to succeed with success as opposed to failure. " George Bush ...current US
president. (Irrelevant comment, I just find him amusing...)

It's been a couple of weeks since the bar and I still don't know what happened. I'm thinking that I didn't do anything embarrassing or stupid because Sam, Ainsley, CJ and Donna have refrained from teased me even once about anything. Apart from those answer machine messages that they gave
me, that is, but I'm beginning to think that they were just winding me up.

I mean, come on, who would want to go to the papers and report a story about my behaviour in bar? CJ really can be quite funny sometimes.

At least, I'm still trying to convince myself of all this, but I vaguely remember sitting on my ass in the middle of a bar with people sitting and pointing at me. Although this could be a dream, I'm not sure.

Anyway, today has all the trademarks of it being a good day. Probably not going to remain that way, but it's at least trying to fool me into thinking it's going to be good. I even made it in on time and am fairly awake (that nice coffee Donna's not going to bring me would go far to wake me up
completely, but after years of arguing over it, I know it's not going to happen).

I walk past Donna's desk on the way into my office and she stands up greeting me with my daily schedule. It's really a good day, only one actual meeting (with Joey Lucas, wahey. I think. Although I'm not sure… Is this a good thing…) and then I'm free. Well, free to prepare for some bills that
are coming up as well as some meetings I'm having over the next week that are actually important. Not that parts of my job aren't important, I'm Deputy Chief of Staff for the White House, every little thing I do from going on TV to discuss issues of the day to my grocery shopping is important. But admittedly, some things take precedence. And this meeting with Joey Lucas doesn't seem to be that important, although it could do a hell of a lot for my social life.

So I'm sat in my office, and I'm getting quite bored. Which I shouldn't be since I'm a very important person with a very important job, so I think today I'm going to try and figure out how to use my computer. In fact, mastering the internet is what I'm going to do today. I can already use emails
(Donna gave me a tutorial on them a few years back) so being able to actually use the internet seems like a good idea. Well, it beats trying to write left handed with my pens (I'm actually very good at writing Donnatella Moss with my black biro using my left hand…) which I'm sure is a useful skill,
but doesn't require much day to day use in the West Wing. Maybe we should implement a bill saying that children should learn to write with both hands in case one is... cut off or something. Yeah, it could be called the Josh Lyman Bill, and it would help children relate to the minority – left-handers and ambe…ambo… both handed people.

But anyway, back to the really important stuff – learning how to make sense of the internet.

So, I click on the internet icon, and… nothing. Okay, why isn't it working? Really? Help!

"Donna!" I call out in my very soft voice that I often use to get people's attention.

She turns up in my doorway. "What?" She asks. And not very kindly either.

"It's not working. I'm stuck on the first page."

I'm rewarded with a blank look and think that maybe I should explain myself a bit better.

"I'm going to use the internet." I tell her proudly. She doesn't seem particularly impressed.

"And you're going to distract me from my work until I explain how to use it?" She asks.

"Well, not if you've got more important things to be done…" I tell her in my most unimpressed voice.

"Fine. Fine, I'll help you. Maybe I'll have less things to do if you can learn to do them yourself." She tells me, walking round to my side of the desk.

"I'm clicking on this and nothing's happening." I tell her.

"Because you need to log on first." She tells me patiently.

Twenty minutes later we've got the hang of it all, and I've also got a nice print out of how exactly I get onto the internet, my password and log in name, and how I look for things I want to find.

I stick it to the wall behind the screen. Donna goes back to her desk, and I start to surf.

So, what can I search for? Let's think. Well, I could look up information on the new green bill that we're going to put to congress, or how about something on that TV programme I watched last night on the Salem Witch Trials (complete chance that it was on when I happened to turn on my TV… really. I had no idea it was going to be on. And then the remote… disappeared, and I had to watch the whole thing…) Nope, think I'm going to see if there are any internet sites about me. That sounds interesting.

So, I go to yahoo as Donna told me and input ‘Josh Lyman'. 20 seconds later I come up with 5 categories, 26 web sites and 467 web pages. Not all about me, sadly, but some are. Some just mention my name, but that's not bad. More than a lot of people could boast. In fact I might show Donna some of them.

Yes, my fan club appear to have a whole page dedicated to me! And that picture really isn't flattering. I might email them and get them to change it.

Then I have a brilliant idea. Let's search the web for porn.

Oh yeah. Naked women. Oh yeah… I've not seen any in over a year, so if women want to post naked pictures of themselves all over the internet, who am I to complain? And if anyone asks, I can be doing it as research into how unsafe the internet is and how children can access inappropriate pages easily. Man, I'm good!

So I go back to yahoo and input ‘porn'.

My, there is a LOT of pages. Hundreds and hundreds. Women, men, all sorts.

This is interesting.

I start to have a look at some of the pages. Research purposes, remember. There are some really quite bad pictures here. I mean bad quality. Like they've been scanned and then fuzzed over so much so the ‘model' won't be recognised.

And then I accidentally come across a page of questionable taste with men… doing stuff… to each other. And I'm trying hard not to look, but… how the hell did they manage to do that? I'm not looking, I'm not looking…

Door opens, Donna and someone else who's not Joey enters. And it's very obvious what I'm looking at. Oh shit.

"How the hell did they manage to do that?" Donna asks, and I'm scared at the idea that I was thinking the exact same thing.

"That's what…" I try to say, but she interrupts.

"This is Caroline Oakey, here about the polling thing for DC." She tells me shooting me an odd look before she then exits. I'll have to ask her about that later. But now I'm really not sure that I want to know what she's thinking about me at the moment, but I feel as though I ought to explain to Caroline.

"I was… doing… research. Kids these days, far too influenced… The internet…" And that made not one bit of sense. It takes me a good few minutes, but I finally manage to exit the screen and then turn to Ms Oakey.

"So, Ms Oakey, what can I do for you?" I ask her. On second looks, I'm sure I recognise her from somewhere. Maybe she's just got one of those familiar faces. Got to be it.

"It's Carrie." She tells me curtly. Which makes her Carrie…

"So, do you do a lot of singing?" I ask quite humorously. I'm rewarded with a scowl for my troubles. I don't think I've made a very good first impression. "Please, sit down." I invite her, rethinking my welcoming strategy.

She does so, and then tells me her reasons for coming. "Ms Lucas has been unfortunately detained in California and so I was sent as her replacement." She says all this with such attitude, and I'm beginning to think that maybe she just doesn't like me for some personal bitchy reasons that I'll never get. I really hope that Donna comes in soon and takes her away. But then she is actually quite attractive. Carrie, that is. Although Donna is as well, but that's not important. Especially since she seems to be impervious to my charms. Carrie might be broken down. In fact the mere mention of being able to change her name from Carrie Oakey to Carrie Lyman might be incentive enough.

So that's Mission: Impeccable 2. Break down Ms Oakey here and convince her to go out to dinner. I will not have her be all Ms Attitude with me. It's not allowed. Even Mandy wasn't that bad and we had the whole history thing against us and I'm pretty sure that I've never met Carrie before today.

We discuss the reason for her coming – something about trying to see if the public would vote for this new anti oil people bill we're putting out, and then I ask her if she'd like to join me for lunch. We have to continue discussions after lunch so it only makes sense. Or that's the way I put it.

However she refuses, and walks out of the office, talking to Donna on her way out. And I follow soon after, maybe Donna would like to join me for lunch, and I see them talking. I don't know what they're talking about, but Donna looks as though she'd rather be a million miles away. Her body language suggests to me as if they've met before and Donna found reason to hate her, but I can't think of any reason why. Eventually she manages to get free, and then I ask Donna to lunch. She agrees to dine with me in a nearby restaurant and so we head out together.

"Why don't you like Carrie?" I ask Donna out right. I was going to phrase it slightly better, but hey, I'm out of practice.

"Why were you looking at gay porn?" She answers straight back.

"Because there's something I've been meaning to tell you…" I shoot back sarcastically, but I swear, for a minute there she looked quite scared.

"Yes, Carrie was my lesbian lover until we split up a couple of years ago because she was far too overly obsessed with any man that I worked with. We've hated each other ever since. You'd better be on the look out." She tells me, again sarcastically. Or at least, I hope to God that it was sarcasm. Donna's straight, right? Although maybe that's the reason that she never seems to show any actual sexual interest in me. Maybe, just maybe she's gay… God, I really, really hope not.

"Josh." She says to me, and I think my worries about her sexuality were beginning to be a little obvious. "I'm not gay, and apart from that one time when I drunkenly kissed one of my female friends, I never have been. Okay?"

I nod that it's fine. "Not that I'd have a problem if you were." I clarify. Just in case she was worrying about telling me. And I'd not care, really. Honest. She kissed one of her friends? I'm sorry that I missed that.

"I'm not. Believe me, I'm not." She reinforces, and I wonder what she's trying to say, but I ignore it anyway.

"So, Carrie and you didn't seem to get on, any reason why?" I'm curious, okay? And besides, if I'm ever to accomplish this mission, then I need Donna's support. For some inexplicable reason.

"There's nothing to it." She says, but I can see that there's more to it than she says. "We met once, she went a bit…psychotic, and so I'm just a little wary of her." She explains. But now I'm wondering where and when she met this Carrie before. I'm sure that the last time she actually made it out socially was with Sam, Ainsley, CJ and I. And I am almost sure that I didn't see Carrie there. I'm sure I'd remember if she went all psycho, wouldn't I? "So, the gay porn?"

"Research into what kids can find on the internet these days. I'm working on a personal crusade to stop children being able to access inappropriate material." I tell her, very convincingly.

"And the truth?" Okay, so she didn't buy it.

"I went looking for porn and inadvertently ended up on a gay porn website." I tell her almost embarrassed. She smiles. Yes, boys and girls, I am amusing, I can make my very favourite assistant laugh at my misadventures. I am a comedy genius.

Lunch goes without too much of a problem, except I manage to get spaghetti sauce all around my mouth and even spill some down the front of my pants. I really hope that I've got a spare set back at the office, as the stain is really quite spectacularly good. I attempt to remove the sauce from my face (note to the wise: never eat spaghetti and sauce in a public place) but apparently do a bad job of it as Donna leans in close with her serviette and wipes gently around my face with it.

"You missed like a whole lot. In fact, if you want my opinion, don't eat spaghetti in public again. Good thing you've got a spare pair of pants back at the office."

She's psychic. Scarily so, however it's happened enough in the past that now I don't have to remind myself to not run off out of the restaurant, screaming "Save yourselves from the madness! She's evil! She can read the thoughts of men! She's using it for her own evil uses! She's planning on overthrowing the government!" I nearly did this once. However the fact that I was in the middle of the mess stopped me. Sam was there - I did want him to think I'd gone crazy…

We get back to my office with time to spare until the allegedly crazy singing-badly-in-bar girl returns. So I take off my pants, hand them to Donna (who's standing on the out side) and then look around for the pair that Donna assures me is in here.

And now I'm panicking, as I've been looking everywhere (even the bottom drawer of my desk, which you do not want to know what sort of life forms exist in there…) and nothing. Not one pair of pants. Not a single one.

I look round the side of the door and call out to Donna, and she's not there. She's disappeared (although I must say that I recall something about her having to go to the dry cleaners to take the pants) and I'm stood here in my underwear and shirt and hope and pray that I've just not been looking hard enough.

Then Carrie comes waltzing in, and her shriek is loud enough so that CJ, Toby, Leo and Sam quickly dash into my office to see the dead body that one would assume was there from Carrie's amount of fear.

Sadly, there is no dead body. I'm still very much alive and very much standing here in my office in Tweetie Pie boxers.

After everyone has had at least 20 minutes laugh out of my predicament (surely they have more important things to do?) they leave, and I see Donna standing at the door with an amused look on her face.

"No pants?" She asks innocently.

"No pants." I confirm.

She laughs. A lot. And as much as I'd like to hate her for putting me in this predicament, it really is too long since I've last seen her enjoying herself as much as she is, so I merely pose for her pleasure. Or amusement.

"You done yet?" I ask.

She shakes her head no, and comes into my office. I quickly shut the door behind me, although I think pretty much everyone has seen me half naked now, and she manages to procure from some hidden compartment in my office a pair of pants.

I'd laugh now, but I'm standing here in Tweetie Pie boxers, so I don't think I'm going to. She hands me the pants and I put them on, and Donna tells me that Carrie is waiting outside.

"I'll send her in." She says. "Be careful." She warns me, and I'm not sure what for. I think I've pretty much ruined any chance that I had to complete mission impeccable 2. But I'll try. I will succeed. Or die trying.

Okay, so maybe she's not worth that much effort, but I'll at least attempt to use my wit and suave ways to seduce her.

"So, Carrie, I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me sometime. Is tonight okay with you?" I ask in my most charming manner.

"Tonight? Oh, I'd love to, but I've got to go see if you can actually die from boredom. Sorry, maybe some other time." Okay, sensing some definite hostility here. It's not as if I've ever done anything to the woman, right? I decide to find out.

"Okay, so we got off to a bad start, but there must be more reason as to why you hate me, surely? I've never done anything to you to make you act like such a bitch towards me."

"So you call the incident in the bar nothing?" She yells. Loudly.

"Bar? What bar? I've never met you before." I tell her.

"I'm not mistaken, you completely embarrassed me in there, spilling beer down my top. You are the scum of the earth and I can't believe I even contemplated sleeping with you. You complete and utter ass hole. You jerk, you bastard. Go to hell!" She yells at me, punctuating her insults with hits before she storms out of my office. Yup, definitely hostile. And I so have no idea where the hell I've apparently met her before, all though there was some weird déjà vu thing almost going on there.

Sam comes running into my office moments later. "That was the crazy psychotic lady?" He asks. "Boy, you can really choose them." He tells me, almost sympathetic.

"Did I do something wrong in a previous life to make God really hate me?" I ask Sam.

"Probably." He tells me.

"Or maybe he's pissed off because you've been mistreating your assistant in this life." I hear a yell from outside the door. I walk over and close the door.

"What crazy, psychotic lady?" I ask Sam after just thinking through what he said. Did he and Donna go out sometime and meet Carrie?

Sam looks at me with an amused look on his face. "You really don't remember?" He asks. Umm, I'm thinking that, no, I don't remember.

"You and Donna went out and met Carrie?" I ask, confused.

"Actually you and Donna met Carrie, I only heard her." He says. I have absolutely no idea what the hell he's going on about. Although Carrie seemed to have some idea about it, too. Bar. Did I do something in the bar? When I was really very drunk? Is this what CJ was warning me about?

"I've never met her before." I say slowly, although I'm beginning to come to the conclusion that I have.

"Okay." Sam says, sitting down on the chair in front of the desk. I sit the other side. "So, you've never met her. I believe you. But remember when we went to the bar with Ainsley, CJ and Donna?" I nod, although I'm lying sort of. "What exactly did we do all night?" He asks me with a slight smirk. He's not allowed to smirk.

"We sat around. Discussed the mission. And then we… sat around and drank some more?" I say. I'm only hoping that I'm right.

"Well, we talked all right. However there was the time that you went to the bar. What happened there?" He asks me, and I know that he knows something, and I don't want to acknowledge what I think happened.

"I went to the bar, and ordered a beer." I tell him proudly.

"And then started to drunkenly hit on a lady, who suddenly went crazy and started shouted at you in the middle of the bar where you proceeded to trip over your feet and land on your ass." He says this with this fake straight mouth. I can tell he's trying not to laugh. Really trying, and barely succeeding. And I still don't remember any of the night, but I'm putting things together, little comments that people have made over the past couple of weeks, and I know it's all true.

Now I want to hide under my desk and remain there for the better part of the millennium. I slip down as far as I can in my chair. I really don't want even Sam to see me right now.

"Carrie was the crazy lady, wasn't she?" I conclude, and it all makes sense and I want to hit myself hard on the head and preferably knock myself out and never remember. Or go back a few weeks and hope that I don't get drunk on the bar night and completely and utterly embarrass myself. I'm a suave, political operative - I can't make a complete fool out of myself.

"Remember our conversation afterwards?" Sam prompts me, and I know that the embarrassment of falling on my ass was by no means the end to what happened.

"What did I say?" I ask straight out. I can't deal with not knowing any more.

"Nothing, really. I mean, nothing completely incriminating." He informs me. "I've got it written down somewhere, thought I might need it sometime in the future, but I think I'll wait until I need blackmail material." He smirks again, and for gods sake I just want to know what I've been telling people.

"What did I say?" I demand.

"Only really something about falling in love with your assistant. I think you wanted me to help you since it was obviously a bit of a problem for you."

I am literally speechless. I am without words. I told Sam what? No, I couldn't possibly have said that. He's playing with me. I am in no way infatuated with my assistant.

"You're lying." I tell him. Because there is no way that I can allow it to be true.

"I'm not." He tells me seriously. Okay, so now I want to kill myself, although I've got to kill Sam first so he won't go telling Donna.

"I didn't tell her." He then says. "Just think yourself lucky that you didn't throw up on her, she followed you after you ran into the ladies room pretty fast."

I am beyond mortified. People saw me? Donna saw me?

"I'm just going to stay here…forever." I tell him. "You can go though." This day cannot get worse, I feel. Although now we'll have to wait for Joey Lucas to get here to help with the polling data since I don't think there's anyway that the singing crazy lady will return, besides I'd refuse to work with her if she did.

Sam leaves, and I crawl under the desk. And sit there and hope that no one ever comes in my office again. Until they can smell the odor from the dead body, that is. And it gets too bad for anyone to work. And then maybe I can haunt the West Wing and rid it of any republicans or crazy people that come to work here in the future.

The door opens, but I'm all right because I'm hiding underneath the desk.

"Josh?" Donna calls out. "I know you're in here. Sam says he's sorry."

Okay, Sam's sorry for what? For being evil to me and telling me how much I embarrassed myself? That doesn't make sense. Besides I'm not going to face Donna, or anyone else, ever again.

"I told him not to tell you. And I did hit him round the head. CJ found it amusing, though." Donna continues. I'm not coming out, though.

However I don't get the chance because Donna comes round my side of the desk and spots my hiding place.

"Josh." She says from nearby, and I jump. "What the hell are you doing under the desk?"

"Thinking." I tell her. I don't move though.

"Okay." She says. "Okay." She repeats. "Are you going to stop thinking anytime soon?" She asks.

"No." I say and shake my head.

"Okay." She says again. "I'll go home then if there's nothing for me to do." She says with a smile.

That makes me get out from under the desk. I hit my head hard in the process, though. And it really hurts. I think I've got a concussion. It's all Sam's fault.

"I've got things for you to do." I tell her as she starts towards the door.

"I never doubted that you did." She says and exits.

Oh, God, did she really see me make a complete fool of myself? Nothing I can do now. I'm just going to hide in my office until everyone's left, I think.

The rest of the day is spent hiding, avoiding people that might know (everyone) and just generally trying to keep a low profile. I go home sometime after its got dark and decide that I'm going to go and watch the Mets game and drink beer and hopefully wake up tomorrow, today having been a dream. A nightmare really.

I get home and find that I have no beer, and so have to go out to my friendly neighbourhood store and buy some. I get a six pack, and as I'm walking home I decide that drinking alone is, well, lonely. It's always more fun to watch the game with a friend.

So, I'm thinking, who would actually be interested in watching the Mets game and getting drunk?

Sam. That's who. And he lives nearby, which is always a plus point.

So I wander over to Sam's apartment, carrying the beers, and I walk to his door and knock. He opens the door a few moments later (after I knock several times more, that is) and I enter.

"Sam, I've decided to accept your apology from earlier." I tell him. "So, how about we watch the Mets…" Suddenly I notice that Sam is not alone in his apartment. In fact, Ainsley is sat at the table wearing a very nice dress, and there's candles out and a meal in front of her, and a wine glass in her hand. I then look back over at Sam and realise that he, too, is dressed up. And I think I just interrupted something.

"Hey Josh." Ainsley calls out to me.

Well, this day couldn't get much more embarrassing.

And as much as I'm intrigued as to what's going on here (Sam and Ainsley? When did this happen?) I don't really think I should stay.

"Umm, hi Ainsley. I'm just…going to… go back home… and get drunk…on my own." I say to both Ainsley and Sam, who is still standing at the door. "Really sorry. Bye!" I apologise and walk out the door as inconspicuous as possible.

I've got this great idea. I'm going to go home, sit on my couch, get drunk, and stay there for the rest of eternity. That way I won't have to meet anyone. I shall prevent myself from embarrassment. I shall be free from the curse!

First I'll have to answer the damn phone. Is answering the phone allowed in this new embarrassment-free life? I'll have to think about that one.

"Josh Lyman." I say as I press the button on my cell.

"Josh? Where are you? I've been trying to ring you at home but there was no answer." Donna asks, almost worriedly.

"I was just about to start a new life in hiding." I tell her cheerfully. Well, as cheerfully as I can. I'm about to be cut off from the rest of the world, how can anyone be cheerful in that situation? Maybe I could use emails, just to let people know I'm still alive.

"Okay. But before you do that, do you want to come round and watch the Mets game?" She asks and I'd love to tell her no, as it is sure to lead to more embarrassment, however that would just be rude.

"Sure." I tell her eagerly. "I'll be there with alcohol as soon as I can." That wasn't overly eager, was it?

"Alcohol sounds good." She says before she hangs up.

And so I head on over to Donna's for my last night in civilisation. Should be fun. We can get drunk together and lament over my life and lack of love life. And inability to complete the missions that I set which should be easy to attain. Second thoughts, maybe I shouldn't tell her about the last one. I
mean, Carrie? Evil, crazy, psychotic, singing lady? I'd be laughed out of her apartment and told never again to grace her with my presence. Which would actually be kind of fitting since I'm never actually going to leave my apartment ever again. Seriously. I am a threat to national security. Or national sanity, either really.

I get to Donna's apartment shortly after the call (had to take a cab, didn't I) and walk up to her front door and considering ringing the bell. However, do I really want to see her, I mean, today was a bad day, she was there, and I now know what happened (sort of) at the bar. And quite frankly I'm
really very humiliated that she had to witness any of that.

Oh, what the hell, I can get her drunk, make her do embarrassing things, and then use it as blackmail material.

I ring the bell. And then again. And once more for good measure.

She gets to the door with a half bottle of wine in her hand.

"Hey Josh." She greets me, giving me a hug. She's drunk, right? Or just being really friendly? She's got to be drunk. It's the only sane explanation. Apart from the explanation whereby today was merely a huge weird nightmare that I'm having, which would also be quite reasonable. I could live with that. But I don't think it is somehow.

I enter her apartment and quickly check for any men that she's got stashed away or entertaining. None. No women either. I'm relieved somewhat.

She sits down on the couch and motions for me to join her.

"Wine?" She offers, and I shake my head and point to the beers that I'm holding.

And we drink. And watch the game. It's good - the Mets are completely thrashing their opponents. And I'm drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Life is good.

"Carrie was a crazy lady. Why did you try to hit on her?" Donna asks. Now I know that she's drunk. But I'm getting there. Despite promises to myself that I would never drink again, I'm going to get drunk and hopefully forget everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours. And maybe some before that.

"It was the mission. Part two. Have you ever noticed how the titles of sequels are never all that original? The Godfather Part Two. Mission: Impossible 2. Can't they think of something more interesting?" It would appear that I'm talking absolute crap, which is a refreshing change.

"Yeah, but how would you know it was the sequel if they called it something else?" Good point. I drink more as I can't think of anything else to say. Pause in conversation. "You're not gay are you?" Interesting change in conversation.

"No. Okay, so my choice of potential dates isn't all that good, but why would you think I'm gay?" I ask. I'm obviously not drunk enough. This conversation seems to be making sense. More beers. And open the third can.

"I was worried. You were looking at gay porn. I thought maybe you liked it." Donna says reasonably. For some reason I feel as though I have to refute this beyond all doubt. I cannot have Donna thinking I'm gay. Even if it is just the alcohol talking.

I move in close to her, carefully grab her chin with my hand and turn her face to look in my direction. "I'm not gay." I tell her. "You don't need to worry. I'm really not gay." I say, but I'm not sure she's convinced. I drink the rest of the third beer, as I know what I'm going to do to prove it to her,
it's my new mission, and I need to be more drunk. I open the fourth beer and consume some. I'm now really quite tipsy. Okay, so I'm getting fairly inebriated, so much so that what I do next is completely rational to me. I take he face in my hands again and pull her close to me and kiss her. It lasts a while, and although she seems quite surprised by it initially, we both relax into it. I eventually pull away. "If I was gay, I wouldn't have done that." I tell her, pleased with my own logic.

She smiles. "I'm convinced." She tells me. "I didn't really think you were. I was just making sure." She says. I understand.

I sit back against the couch, and pull her in close to me. It's very warm and that's good ‘cause it's cold outside. I hope I can sleep on her couch tonight, I don't want to go outside again.

"I went to Sam's earlier." I announce to Donna a while later. "Ainsley was there. They were all dressed up." I lean close to Donna, and whisper to her. "I think something's going on between them."

"There is." She whispers back. "I caught them kissing at the bar."

"Really?" I say, eyes wide. "I don't remember that. But then I don't remember anything." I inform her sadly.

"You don't remember telling me you loved me?" She asks, pouting.

Sam told her, didn't he? He promised he wouldn't tell her. He promised me! "Sam said he wouldn't say anything." I tell her.

She looks at me funny. "Sam didn't tell me. You did." I did? I really don't remember that. "When I stayed over at yours. You told me you loved me. Didn't you mean it?" She looks quite upset. Of course I meant it, but she wasn't supposed to know.

"I do love you. But I'm not supposed to tell you." I tell her conspiratorially. "People might get jealous." I'm sure that's the reason, but you can never tell. It could just be that CJ would kill me.

"I understand. I won't tell anyone." She kisses me quickly on the lips. "I love you too." She says. "Just so you know. But don't tell anyone."

"I won't." One day I'm going to tell her sober what I think. But for now this will do. "I'm still not gay." I tell her. There's some logic there, I'm sure.

We lean in close to each other and watch the game, her head on my shoulder, my head on hers.

I think we fall asleep that way.

I wake up with a pain in my neck and a splitting headache. I still remember the humiliation that was the previous day, and I start to move when I realise that Donna is still sleeping on my shoulder. I don't want to wake her, so I just remain in the same position and watch the TV that is still on.

I remember everything I said last night, but I'm not going to let her know that. We'll carry on in the same way as ever, pretending we don't know what's going on between us, faking that we don't know that the other feels the same way. It's the only thing we can do. The only professional thing to
do. I know that I love her, not only when I'm drunk, but also when I'm sober, but I'm not going to tell her that unless I can deny knowledge of having said it.

It's wrong, but it's the only thing I know how to do. And when she wakes, I'll remain in denial.

She starts to move against me, and she finally stirs from her sleep.

"Morning." She says sleepily. She spies the empty bottles of beer and wine and chooses to remain oblivious. "I don't remember, did the Mets win?"

And I go along with it. "Probably." I say, and then prise myself away from her and feign detachment. "There's not going to be any scary polling people today, are there?" I ask, and we go back to normal. Nothing has changed, and everyone's going to tease me like hell for yesterday, and I'll have to take it. Okay, so I won't take it, I'll complain and make everyone's life miserable, but that's what everyone will expect. It's normal.

Just remind me to tease Sam about his evening with Ainsley last night.

[mission: impeccable 3]

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