Author's notes: Please be kind. This is my first
fanfic.
I’m delusional. I live in a state
of delusion; a constant state of delusion. One brought on by myself, one that I
welcome. No, my delusion is not about my love for Donna, I’m well aware of
that, have been for years. My delusions are regarding her dating life, or more
to the point, her sex life.
See, I know that Donna dates.
I’ve been sabotaging them since the campaign, the first one. There have been
lobbyists, lawyers, old college friends, grad students, an occasional waiter,
and so on. But, with few exceptions, I’ve been able to delude myself into
believing that although she dates, she’s not having sex. I allow myself to
believe that she’s waiting until it’s ok for us to be…well…together. Together,
together.
Even when she went back to Dr.
Freeride, I deluded myself into believing that she didn’t sleep with him. After
all, she was only back for three weeks, and there was still pain there. She
wasn’t just going to jump right back into bed with him, and then he blew it,
again. See how I do it? Delusions.
There have been, however, those
few times that I just couldn’t justify my delusions.
The first time I had to face
facts was our third year in office. At this point, we’d been working together
almost four years, including the campaign. And believing what I believed, and
still do most of the time, Donna had been leading a celibate life up until this
point. So, as you can imagine, being forced to admit that Donna had a sex life
didn’t sit well with me. His name was Cliff Calley The Republican. Most people
just know him as Cliff or Cliff Calley, but I knew him as Cliff Calley The
Republican. I couldn’t deny that he and Donna had sex. He saw the diary; hell,
he was in the diary. They had sex, no getting around it. Admittedly, I didn’t
handle this news well. In fact, I spent a year not handling it well. I’ve come
to refer to that year as “The Amy Fiasco.” And no, I don’t know what “The Amy
Fiasco II” was about, so let’s not even go there.
Just as I was ending “The Amy
Fiasco” portion of my life, I had to face facts once again. It was right at the
end of our fourth year in office, and Donna met Commander Wonderful. It’s also
worth mentioning that Commander Wonderful was a republican as well. Anyway…at
first, I was able to continue on in my delusional life, but this relationship
lasted for 2 months. It started the day before Thanksgiving and ended two days
before the second inauguration. So this one wasn’t a one-time thing like the
Cliff Calley The Republican thing. Two
months, including a holiday weekend trip to the Washington Inn. Bastard. Sorry,
I’m still a little bitter. I’m happy to say, however, that this time I handled
it better. Maybe it’s because I had already been through it once, or maybe it’s
because there was no possible way of handling it worse, but I handled it
better, and that’s what’s important. Now, I’m not saying I handled it great,
because I didn’t. First, I basically had a meltdown in front of Leo two days
before Christmas. Twice. Then, three weeks later, I insinuated that Commander
Wonderful might have requested a transfer to Italy to get away from Donna. But
still, it was better than “The Amy Fiasco.” Ask Donna, she’d agree.
After the transfer to Italy,
which I didn’t cause but wondered why I hadn’t thought of it, over a year
passed without having to face facts again. Yes, she still dated, and quite
possibly, she had sex, but as long as there wasn’t blatant proof, I allowed
myself to believe that she was waiting. Well, today, blatant proof arrived from
Gaza with flowers. I think I’m going to call this one Heathcliff On The
Moor. I know; I’m quite clever. Anyway…
I’m standing in Donna’s hospital room while she’s knocked out on painkillers,
and I’m being forced to carry on a civil conversation with Heathcliff On The
Moor. While he’s babbling on about Gaza and peace in the Middle East, I’m doing
math. The Codel had only been in Gaza 4 days when the explosion took place, so
I’m guessing there was only one night of sex. Maybe two, but I’m willing to
give her the benefit of the doubt, seeing as I love her and all.
So I’m standing here, hanging out
with Donna’s latest sex partner, and I’m wondering how I’m going to handle this
news. There won’t be another Amy Fiasco; there are no more Amy’s for me. There
won’t be another meltdown; I have to be strong for Donna right now. I’ve got to
handle this one better, and I have to face facts. It’s time to stop deluding
myself. This is going to keep happening. Probably not with Heathcliff On The
Moor, but it is going to keep happening. She’s going to have sex, if not with
me, then with someone else. So, I either have to find a way to deal with it, or
I have to make sure that it is with me. And there’s my answer, that’s how I
handle it this time. I make sure that the next time Donna has sex, she has it
with me. I’ve laid the groundwork. I’ve flown across an ocean. Now, I just need
a plan. A plan that includes Donna and me having sex, you know, after she gets
out of the hospital and goes through a few months of physical therapy and her
leg heals properly, and I convince her that she loves me and wants to spend the
rest of her life sleeping with only me. Yeah, I’m going to need a plan all
right, a good one. But first, I’ve got to get Heathcliff On The Moor out of
here. He’s just in the way.
**********
Ok, I won’t lie, that was exhilarating. Scary, but
exhilarating. I just met with some guy, who as far as I knew could have had a
bomb strapped to his chest. I feel a little bit like Sydney Bristow right now.
Well, ok, maybe Vaughn. No, he’s been a wuss all season. I know, I feel a
little like Jack. He’s older than me, much much older than me, but he’s very
cool, and the ladies like him. Just call me Jack Bristow.
So, now I’m in a cab on the way
back to the hospital to Donna, and I’m on a little bit of a Jack Bristow high.
Time to get to work. The plan. I need a plan. A Jack Bristow get rid of
Heathcliff On The Moor, convince Donna that I’m in love with her and she’s in
love with me, have lots of sex with Donna plan.
Those are the steps to the plan:
1. Get rid of Heathcliff On The Moor.
2. Convince Donna that I’m in
love with her.
3. Convince Donna that she’s in
love with me.
4. Have lots of sex with Donna
So, step one: I’ve got to get rid
of Heathcliff On The Moor.
To tell the truth, I don’t really
get what he’s doing here. I mean, he showed up for two hours today. Two measly
hours. And let me point out that Donna slept for an hour and a half of those
two hours. So anyway, he waltzes in with flowers, kisses her RIGHT in front of
me, discusses a few people Donna wrote about in her e-mails, then sits there
while she sleeps for an hour and a half. Then, just as she’s about to wake-up,
he asks if his being here is going to be an issue. HELL YES IT’S AN ISSUE.
Now, of course, I didn’t tell him
that. I didn’t tell him that I attempt to live life in a constant state of
denial and that he ruined it. I didn’t mention that while he’d been making
small talk, I’d faced facts and decided that the next person (and only person)
Donna was going to have sex with was me. And, believe it or not, I have a
reason for not mentioning this.
I know, I know. You think I’m
being a chicken shit. A coward. A child. A pansy. And you have every reason to
believe that. That’s exactly what I’ve been for the last 6 years, but I don’t
think we should dwell on that right now. I have a reason and this is it: It’s
none of his damn business.
See, he knows it’s an issue on my
part. He knows I want Donna. He said it himself, with his little flight
comments. And sure, he acted as though he’d step back if I admitted to it being
an issue, but I don’t buy that for one minute. Instead, he’d go to Donna and
tell her that I want him to go and ask what she wants. Then, Donna would be
pissed as hell at me for trying to run off one of her gomers. She’d say that I
don’t have the right to get rid of him, and she’d be right. I’m not dating
Donna, and therefore she can date, and unfortunately, have sex with, whomever
she pleases. See that’s his plan, but I won’t fall for it. Who does he think he’s
dealing with?
Now, I know that I just admitted
to not having the right to get rid of him. Don’t let that fool you into
thinking I’m not going to. Get rid of him I mean. Oh, he’s going. I just have
to figure out how.
But first, I have to go back to the
“not getting him being here” thing. I know I’m backtracking, but I’ve got to
re-visit this. Help me out here. I could be wrong, but didn’t he and Donna have
a fling? A fling doesn’t usually require a follow-up phone call, much less a
follow-up plane ride to another country. So, what exactly does he think is
going to come of this? Is it possible that he fell in love with her in four
days? Well, I fell in love with her in about four minutes, so, yeah, I guess
it’s possible. But still. He’s, I don’t know, British maybe, and has been
living in Gaza for how long? What kind of long distance relationship does he
think they’re going to have? When she’s hurting from physical therapy, is he
going to be any help from Gaza?
Ok, ok, back to the plan. The
plan…the plan…the plan. Oh look, a flower shop. Hold on a sec.
Ok, I’m back. I’ve got flowers.
Lot’s of pretty flowers. Roses, red ones, two dozen. Take that, Heathcliff On
The Moor. Sure, he’ll show up in the morning fresh and rested from a night’s
sleep in a hotel, freshly shaven with clean clothes on, no doubt smelling
better than me. And maybe I can’t compete with that, but I’ve got flowers. And
they’re better than his little “I got this at the gift shop on the way up”
flower arrangement.
Wait a minute. That’s it. That’s
how I get rid of Heathcliff On The Moor. That’s the plan. I’m a genius! Like I
said, he’ll show up in the morning fresh and rested from a night’s sleep in a
hotel, freshly shaven with clean clothes on, no doubt smelling better than me.
By morning, I will look like crap. I mean, I’m going to look bad. Really bad.
But that’s fine. That’s better than fine. I don’t have to get rid of him; he’ll
leave on his own. I can’t tell him that his being here is an issue, but I can
sure as hell show him.
I’m the one who won’t leave. I’m
the one who sat up all night in a chair in the hospital room last night and
will do the same tonight while he’s checked into a hotel. I’m the one who’s
going to continue to sit in that chair all night every night until she’s out of
the woods. I’m the one who hasn’t slept, changed, shaven, eaten, or even
showered. I’m the one who flew over here without so much as a toothbrush.
Although, I might stop at the gift shop and get one. That’s just gross. I’m
going to be so attentive of her, he’s simply going to know. In the morning, I’m
going to start getting phone numbers for physical therapists, I’m going to make
sure her apartment and bills are paid up for the month, hell, I’ll even make
sure someone waters the damn plants! And once Donna’s mom gets here, the two of
us are going to sit down and discuss what happens when Donna gets back to the
US. I’ll offer, beg even, to have her stay with me. And Heathcliff On The Moor
is going to see all of this. He’s going to see what Donna and I have. I’m not
going to have to say a word about it. He’s going to know. Just the way everyone
else knows. Just the way Donna and I know. It doesn’t have to be discussed, it
simply is. And he can’t tell Donna that I want him to go, because I’m not going
to tell him to go. I’m going to be far too busy giving all my attention to her.
He’s going to see all of this,
and he’s going to know that he has no place in it. He’s going to know that
she’s going to need this kind of attention for months, and that he’s not going
to be the one to give it to her, and he’s going to kiss her on the cheek and
leave. And that, my friends, is going to be the end of Heathcliff On The Moor.
And once he’s gone, I can move on to step two.