Ethics

Josh/Donna Post series

Disclaimer- ahhh no

He watches her through the open door of the bathroom as she washes off her makeup, then brushes her hair. Even in the harsh overhead light her hair looks like gold; soft and heavy… some kind of burnished liquid. The curve of her arm arching over her head makes him just a little dizzy.

He takes a deep breath and starts to undress. He hangs his pants in the closet, then shucks off his shirt, wads it up with his socks and tosses it over hand into the laundry basket. It occurs to him that he is becoming trained… or adjusted… or just plain growing up. A year ago he would have dropped them where he stood and crawled into bed alone with a report to read, or some polling numbers to analyze, anything to fill the emptiness. He would have felt jangled… ill at ease…as if he was running on a treadmill set just a little high. Now he's a rock in the middle of a rushing stream, and he's not quite sure if his sharp edges are being rounded, or if he's being scrubbed clean.

He turns off the room light, then switches on the bedside lamp and lies down on the bed where he can still see her. A wave washes over him that feels just a little like regret.

"Why didn't I jump you years ago?" he says before he can stop himself.

"Because you were my boss," she reminds him, the brush moving hypnotically.

"Oh right… some kind of professional ethics."

"You're a politician. Professional ethics is an oxymoron."

"… and a lawyer…"

"Right. Please refer to my previous statement." She puts the brush down, and flips her hair back behind her shoulders. "You were just scared. I'm not sure you even saw me."

He shakes his head. "I wasn't scared. Confused maybe… but not scared. I always saw you Donna… even when you weren't in my field of vision… I always saw you." He closes his eyes for just a moment. "And it was professional ethics, Donna."

She squirts moisturizer into her hand and smoothes it over her face. "I swear to god Josh there's no such thing as professional ethics in D.C. I mean if I had a dollar for every congressional aide that came on to me because they were trying to get to you…" she stops to apply moisturizer around her mouth.

He can feel the blood behind his eyes. "Names," he says harshly, "I want names."

She looks towards him, her face still damp and shiny. "It doesn't matter Josh. It didn't work then, and it won't work now." She smiles a small teasing smile, then adds, "Of course I did get to eat in a lot of great restaurants."

It hurts him, and he tries not to show it, his eyes flicker over to the laundry basket, and back to her face. He's drowning just a little bit, and he can't quite take the cleansing breath he needs to.

She comes out of the bathroom, the light haloing behind her.

"I've been in politics for almost a decade Josh… I know you want to protect me… but I'm a big girl… I can spot them a mile away." She sits on the side of the bed. "The reason you didn't make a move, my love? Professional ethics… not so much… personal ethics….seems much more likely." She smiles and runs her hand down the side of his face, cupping his cheek, running her thumb along his lips. He reaches out to draw her closer. He's breathing steadily now…his lungs seem to recognize the atmosphere.

"Do you regret it?" he asks softly, and he's really not sure which particular moment of their complicated history he means.

She looks at him directly. "Sometimes," she says simply, "I regret lots of things…" and the unsaid litany of apologies, misdirection, emotional detours and hospital corridors threatens just for a moment to overwhelm them both. She wills herself to breathe before she can continue, "But I think I've learned that without the past we wouldn't have now." She kisses him, and pulls back to look him in the eyes again. "I like the now."

He pulls her onto the bed, on top of him, trapping her in his arms. Her hair falls across his eyes and mouth like ribbons of some kind of water plant, and he blows it away, then breathes, "So do I" into her ear. As he's kissing her he feels her heart beating against his like some kind of Zen exercise in compatibility. Feels the current rushing over and around them… compacting them, contouring them into a single entity.