by Sally Reeve

Chapter One

Alisa MacCallen closed the slim file on her lap and studied it for a moment, her steepled fingers tapping against her lip. This session, she imagined, would be interesting.

It had been a while since she'd seen her next client, almost two years. The fact that he'd called early this morning, asking for an appointment right now was typical. She seemed to remember it had happened the same way last time, after a break of some months. He was the type who responded to a crisis, looked for a quick answer, and then disappeared again. Alisa had seen his type before, although perhaps not to the same degree; most of her clients had some comprehension of the complexity of their situation, even if they were at a loss as to how to unravel it.

Not so, this one. But it made for more of a challenge, and Alisa enjoyed a challenge. Setting the file aside, she watched the hands of her small clock tick over to three. It sat on a crowded bookshelf above a comfortable sofa so that she could monitor the length of a session without her clients thinking she was clock watching. This next client had noticed though, he'd noticed on his first session.

"You can check your watch if you like," he'd said, with the wry smile that he used to deflect anything too serious. "I won't be offended. I have to get out of here on time anyway."

At first, just getting him to sit still for an hour had been challenging. Those first few sessions he'd spent pacing, reading the spines of her books, looking out the window. But at last, over the months, he'd relaxed enough to sit, but never enough to really open up. He'd announced himself cured a few months after that. Cured and really too busy. Alisa, knowing better, had said nothing. But she'd insisted he take her card and call if he ever felt the need.

And he had called, from time to time. Always in a rush, always looking for that impossible quick fix, and only rarely booking a second appointment. Just like today.

Her office door wasn't closed and she heard a slight disturbance outside, her assistant sounding surprised and then appearing in the doorway. "Ah… Your three o'clock is here," she said. "Um, there's also someone here from the, uh…" Her eyebrows rose. "Secret service."

Alisa rose to her feet, a little startled. "Oh…well, show him in."

A tall man in a somber black suit, with an earpiece and an efficient smile, stepped through the door. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said and proceeded to prowl around the room, glancing here and there, until his eyes fell on the small recording device she kept on the low table. "Are you going to use that?"

"I usually do," she said. "I don't have to. That would be my client's choice."

The man in black gave a curt nod, thanked her, and left. Outside there was a muttered conversation and then in he walked - her three o'clock.

Alisa smiled. "Hello, Josh. It's nice to see you again."

"Yeah." He nodded over his shoulder at the secret service agent. "Sorry about that."

"It's not a problem." Alisa moved around to close her office door. She could see the other man outside, standing sentry. He didn't object when she closed the door however. "Take a seat," she told Josh, and wondered if he'd bother to take off his coat.

She moved to her own chair and sat quietly, watching him pace. "Sorry about the short notice," he said. Two apologies in a row.

"That's okay, I had a slow day."

For some reason that made him laugh; Alisa imagined that Josh Lyman had very few slow days.

"So…" she said, folding her hands on her lap and waiting.

Josh nodded a little, paced a little, and kept his coat on. "It's, uh… I don't really know why I'm here." Alisa kept silent. "I mean, I know why I'm here… I just, don't know why."

"Well, shall we start with the first bit? What made you come today?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, I just- I've been having trouble sleeping. It's like, you know, the adrenalin thing again."

By which he meant hyper-arousal. "You've been feeling anxious?"

"Yeah." He stopped pacing and came to perch on the edge of the sofa. "I don't get it. I mean, obviously there's a lot of…stress at work. But it's… Everything's so good. I don't understand why I'm feeling like this."

"How are you feeling?"

He sighed again and looked out the window. "Like it's all going to fall apart, I guess."

"At work?"

Josh shook his head, still staring out the window. "Just…everything. Like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I'm constantly looking up, waiting for it to happen."

Alisa let the silence ride for a while. "What do you think it is?" she said eventually. "This thing you're waiting for."

He didn't reply, although she suspected he knew the answer. At least on some level he knew the answer, even if he was unprepared to admit it.

"Have you considered the season?" she asked.

His eyebrows rose, an ironic smile on the lips. She remembered the expression well; half condescension, half avoidance. "You mean…Chanukah?"

"I mean Christmas, Josh."

"It's not my holiday."

Alisa inclined her head to acknowledge the point. "Nevertheless, each time you've come to see me, it's been around Christmas."

He frowned and looked back out the window. "I didn't realize that."

"Obviously, when you were first referred. And then a couple of years ago; you were concerned about changing jobs, and your assistant-"

"Yeah, I remember." He still wasn't looking at her, his body language closed.

"And now, today."

After a long pause he said, "I guess I don't like Christmas."

"Many people would agree with you."

"It's… Seems like a lonely time of the year. You know? Especially if you don't celebrate."

"There's a lot of forced gaiety about. I think it can be difficult for many people."

"I guess. But… You know, I usually work. I've always worked. But it's always so quiet. It's like you've been left behind."

Alisa made a neutral sound of agreement. "That's something you might find difficult, given your past."

He looked at her, but didn't answer. She could see he knew what she was talking about, however. But he wasn't going to articulate it.

"You don't like being left behind."

His shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. "No."

"Are you working this Christmas?"

Josh smiled thinly. "I'm always working."

"So you'll be alone?"

Again, he looked away. "Yeah. Yeah… I guess Donna's going to her family."

Interesting, the way he said her name. "Donna? Your assistant?"

"No." This time there was a real smile, touched with something unidentifiable. "I mean, she was. Now she's my…I don't know…partner, I guess. We live together."

"Ah…"

He looked at her, brow furrowing in suspicion. "What?"

"She's obviously important to you, that's all."

He shrugged his agreement. "We live together."

"And the last time you came to see me she'd just left her job as your assistant. Around Christmas, if I recall correctly."

"The…twenty-second," he said, brushing something imaginary from his knee. "That was the day she left."

"And she's going to see her family this Christmas?"

"Yeah."

"But you're not going with her."

He shook his head. "I can't- It's too long to be away, and besides…" He nodded toward Alisa's door and the secret service agent outside. "It's a lot of hassle."

Alisa cocked her head. "So you'll be alone again, Josh? Donna's leaving you again, at Christmas."

He laughed. "Just for a few days. It's not- It's not like the other time. She's not leaving me."

After a moment, Alisa said, "It's not the same, but sometimes things can feel the same even when we know they're different."

Josh didn't answer, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest and he seemed to be sinking into his heavy coat.

"What does Donna say about the day she quit her job?"

His eyes slid to hers, as if it were a trick question. "What does she say about it?"

"Yes. Have you discussed it with her?"

"The day she quit?" He laughed again, but not from amusement. ""No."

"Not at all?"

"It's water under the bridge. We're past that now."

After a deliberate pause, Alisa said, "Thinking back to that day - when she left, and you found a temp at her desk…"

His jaw clamped shut and he glared at the glass of water on the low table between them. "I don't…really think about it much."

"Do you remember how you felt?"

For an instant his furious gaze burned her, as if she'd asked the most stupid question imaginable. "Yes."

"It still makes you angry," she observed.

"I told you," he said, not uncurling in the slightest, "it's ancient history."

Alisa smiled slightly. "But it's not, is it? If it still makes you this angry then it's not-"

"I'm not angry," he insisted, suddenly rising to his feet. "I just- I just need you to fix the sleep thing."

She shook her head. "Come on… You know there's no magic wand, Josh. You're a smart guy. If you want pills, you're banging on the wrong door."

Lips pressed tightly together he prowled to the other side of the room. "It's not- It can't be about Donna. She's…" For an instant he softened, his eyes smiling. "She's by far the best thing in my life. This can't be about her, it has to be something else."

Alisa felt a swell of sympathy, let it ride for a moment, and then tucked it away behind a professional curtain. "Sometimes it can be very frightening to let another person become that important to us - especially when we've lost people in the past. People we shouldn't have lost…"

He didn't look at her, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. "You mean Joanie."

"And your father."

He nodded. "And…Leo."

"Leo?" she asked gently. "I'm not sure you've mentioned-"

"He was the one…" His anger faded into grief as fresh as tilled soil. "He was a friend of my father's, I knew him almost all my life. He was my mentor, I guess. He made me get help when- After Roslyn. "

"And he died recently?"

"Last year." Josh cut her a sideways glance. "On election day…?"

Alisa cursed her oversight. "Leo McGarry; of course. That must have been an incredibly difficult time."

"You have no idea."

"You could tell me…"

An incongruous smile tugged at his lips. "It was…the end of the world. I didn't know how to carry on, how to do this job without him." He took a deep breath and looked over at her. "I guess you just keep going."

"Yes, you do. Sometimes, it's all you can do."

"Yeah."

After another pause Alisa said, "So…two years ago, right before Christmas, Donna quit her job - something you took quite personally."

He moved to the window, leaned his shoulder against the wall and stared out over the freezing city. "I guess I did."

"And last year, a couple of months before Christmas, you lost your mentor - just when you needed him most."

Only a nod this time, lips pressed into a thin line.

"And now it's Christmas again. I can't blame you for wondering who's going to leave this time."

His head came to lean against the wall and for a moment he looked utterly defeated. "Do normal people feel like this? As if they're holding their breath, waiting for the next blow?"

Alisa smiled. "You're normal people, Josh. But when you were eight years old you lost your sister, and that wasn't normal. You have a…sensitivity, if you like. A completely rational fear of losing those you love the most - those you need the most."

"I don't…want to feel like this anymore."

"You don't have to."

He turned, resting his back against the wall. "Tell me how…"

"There's no quick fix, Josh. This isn't PTSD, it's not a condition. It's your life. Sometimes lives get all tangled up and we need to figure out how to unpick the threads. It takes time, and it takes commitment."

He nodded as if digesting the information, then gave a deflective smile. "I guess I'm booking another appointment, right?"

It was late when Josh got home. Donna roused from a light sleep and listened to him moving quietly about the apartment, heard the thud of his bag hitting the floor, the refrigerator door opening and closing - if he was looking for a beer he was out of luck - and then a muted groan as he collapsed onto the sofa. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost one, again. These past few weeks his schedule had gone insane and it worried her. That kind of stress, on a guy whose heart had already stopped once and been stitched back together…

The image turned her suddenly cold and she pulled the covers up under her chin, determined to force such thoughts from her mind. Outside the bedroom the bathroom light switched on and Donna heard him brushing his teeth. With a flicker of fond irritation she sketched a mental picture of the pile of clothes he'd be leaving in the corner. I didn't want to wake you, would be the justification if she called him on it. And it was sweet, really. Even if it was only half true. Josh, she knew from long experience, was allergic to hangers and closets.

When the bathroom light went off, Donna rolled onto her side and pretended to sleep. She wasn't sure why, exactly. Maybe she didn't want him to know she'd been lying awake worrying about him, or maybe she just wanted to surprise him.

Either way she smiled when Josh crept into the bedroom. For a moment he hesitated, as if trying to find his way in the dark, and the bed dipped as he sat on the edge. She couldn't see him, but she could hear his quiet sigh and the soft scratch of his hand running through his hair. She tried not to think about how tired he sounded.

After a moment he crawled under the covers, instinctively knowing where she was and curling himself around her. One arm pulled her tight against him, his fingers tucked between her ribcage and the mattress, as if to anchor himself to her. He sighed again, almost in relief, and began to relax. Donna loved this silent intimacy between them, loved the weight of his arm and the way their legs tangled together. Aside from the times work had separated them, Donna thought they'd fallen asleep like this every night since their amazing week in the Bahamas.

The memory made her smile and she snuggled a little closer, telling him she was awake. He smiled against her neck, "Did I wake you up?"

"I don't mind," she murmured, stroking her fingertips along the arm that held her. "I missed you at lunch."

"Yeah, something came up." He kissed her hair. "I had to work through."

"It happens."

"Yeah." After a pause, he added, "How did the thing with those crazy women go today?"

Donna bridled a little; this was against the rules. "If by 'crazy women' you mean the Daughters of the American Revolution, it went…not so great."

Josh tensed, which was exactly why they'd decided never to discuss work in bed. Rolling onto her back, she tried to find his face in the darkness. All she could really see were his eyes, reflecting what little light seeped through the curtains. "I'll tell you about it in the morning," she said. "It's not a biggie."

"Not a biggie like the ACLU thing wasn't a biggie? Or not a biggie like the New York Times thing wasn't a biggie?"

"She's doing her best, Josh. This isn't easy for her." Or me, she might have added.

"Yeah." He sighed again, touching her face in apology. "I know. It's just- It's almost been a year."

"Shhhh… The golden rule, Josh. We'll talk about it in the morning."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." After another pause, he said, "So…did you get your tickets to Madison booked?"

"For a price. I'll be back late on the twenty-sixth."

"Right. And you're leaving on the twenty-third?"

She winced a little. "I couldn't get anything, I'm sorry. I had to go for the twenty-second."

Josh went very still. "The twenty-second?"

There was an edge to his voice that grated - irritation mingled with something she couldn't identify. Whatever it was, she didn't like it. "It's Christmas," she said, aware of a sudden brittleness in her own voice.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"You could come too."

"Not for that long."

"The President said no one was working on-"

"I don't care what he said!" Josh snapped, flinging off the covers and almost jumping out of bed. At the last moment he seemed to reconsider and ended up just sitting on the edge and glaring into the darkness. In a quieter voice he said, "Someone has to stay here."

Donna propped herself up on one elbow and studied his back, all shadows in the dark room. "Sam lives here now, Josh. He could-"

"He just got married! I don't think Jennifer would forgive me if I- Anyway," he sighed, "it's not my holiday."

"It's mine," she pointed out quietly. "If that counts for anything."

Josh shook his head. "Donna…"

Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling. "If you're just going to be working," she said, "I'm not going to stay here and eat turkey on my own."

"I didn't ask you to."

"No," she agreed. "You didn't."

"You should do what you want."

"I am."

"Fine."

"Fine."

But he didn't lay down again. After a few moments he stood up and pulled a sweatshirt over his head. "I, uh," he paced toward the door. "There's some stuff I need to do."

"At one in the morning?"

She couldn't see his face in the darkness, but the tension was obvious in the set of his shoulders. "It's just… I need it for the morning, it won't take long."

"Okay," she said, not knowing how to respond to the lie in his voice.

"You should…" He waved vaguely at the pillows. "Get some sleep."

Donna didn't answer, didn't trust herself to speak. Anger and concern were battling in her heart, and she didn't know which she might vocalize given the chance. It seemed safer to remain silent and watch him leave the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind him. When he switched on the living room lights a bar of yellow light sliced beneath the door, and beyond she could hear his bare feet pacing across the wooden floor, to and fro, to and fro.

For an instant she contemplated following him, making sure he was okay. But there had been something in his voice…something that unnerved her. Vulnerability was the wrong word. Accusation wasn't right either, but perhaps it was somewhere between the two. Either way, it made her feel entirely too exposed and she wasn't sure she could survive a barrage from Josh Lyman; his aim was always too good and she'd seen him take out stronger and smarter targets than herself.

So instead she pulled the covers up over her shoulders, rolled over and for the first time in a year tried to fall asleep alone in his bed.

Josh eventually hauled himself off the sofa at five-thirty, after a night of fitful sleep. He hated that he hadn't gone back to bed, hated waking up alone. Hated that it was his fault, and at the same time couldn't shake the nameless irritation that had plagued him all night. More and more, these days, he spent the night tossing and turning and waiting for it to happen - the phone to ring, the secret service to show up. Whatever. Something. He felt like he was living in a constant state of orange alert.

With a sigh, he padded quietly to the kitchen and started making coffee. He automatically made enough for two now, and he loved that. In fact the act of making morning coffee had become a little domestic ritual that he cherished; a point of normality at the start of their crazy days. He made the coffee, Donna fetched the cream (some lite variety) from the refrigerator, while he stuck a bagel in the toaster for breakfast. It was like clockwork, the way they worked together. Unspoken, most of the time, they'd always been attuned to each other - even when they'd been in the deepest denial about the nature of their feelings. And so it was now, only more so. Much more so.

Which only made it harder when she was missing, he thought as he fetched the cream from the refrigerator himself. Everything felt wrong when she wasn't there; when the other cog in the wheel was absent. He felt wrong, off-kilter, just like that day when he'd walked into work to find someone else at her desk and-

He stopped in the middle of the kitchen, feeling something twisting in his chest. He made a point of not thinking about that day, and probably wouldn't have now if Alisa McAllen hadn't brought it up yesterday. It didn't matter though, because they weren't trapped in that professional relationship anymore. Donna would never leave him for a better job.

"Hey." Her sleepy voice startled him, and he turned to see her standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She'd just gotten out of bed and her hair was all over the place; he loved that he was the only person in the world who ever got to see her so undone.

"Coffee?" It was a feeble peace offering, but all he had to give.

With a smile that let him know she understood, Donna headed for the fridge.

"It's here," he said, indicating the cream.

Looking a little at sea, she ambled over to the kitchen counter and leaned against it. "You didn't come back to bed." Her comment floated halfway between observation and accusation.

Josh didn't look at her when he answered, he started pouring coffee instead. "I was late finishing, I just crashed on the sofa."

"You were late starting," she pointed out, accepting the coffee from him and taking a sip.

"I know."

A taut silence followed and the only sound in the room was the clink of metal on china as Josh stirred sugar into his coffee. He didn't know what to say to her, how to explain the fact that, for some reason, being close to her last night had been unaccountably painful.

"If you want me to stay here over Christmas…"

"No." He offered her an apologetic smile. "No, you should go be with your family. I'll only be working anyway."

"That's what I thought."

"Yeah."

"You were… Last night you were all weird about it."

Josh shook his head. "No, it's not that. I just- It's stupid I guess. It's just the date."

Donna stared blankly at him. "The date?"

"The…twenty-second?"

Still the blank stare, and he knew her well enough to see she wasn't faking. "Is there something going on that I should know about?" she asked. "The First Lady said I was clear from-"

"No." He laughed, although he wasn't remotely amused. "It's not work. It's- You really don't remember?"

A faint flush touched her cheeks. "No. It's not-It's not to do with Chanukah or-"

"No. God." He couldn't believe it, he literally couldn't believe that she'd forgotten. "It's… It doesn't matter."

"Obviously it does."

He looked at her briefly, then back down at his coffee. He felt ridiculous saying it out loud - if she didn't even remember…

"Josh?"

"It's…the day you left."

There was a long pause and when Donna spoke again her tone was clipped and short. "Left the White House?"

"Yeah." All he could really see now was the glistening of the cream rising to the top of his coffee.

"You remember the date?"

"You don't?"

"No." She stalked to the other side of the kitchen, bristling, and he cursed himself for mentioning it in the first place. "This is typical of you," she snapped. "It's so typical! We've been together over a year - and it's been a really, really good year - but you're still obsessing over the day I quit my job. Two years ago!"

"I'm not obsessing, I'm-"

"Why not remember the day we first kissed? Or the day we moved in together, or-"

"I do!" Josh protested. "Of course I do, it's just-"

"Just your little passive-aggressive power play, Josh?"

"My what?"

"The same reason you used to send me flowers in April? To make some stupid, juvenile point about-"

"Okay." He chugged his coffee down fast, scalding his throat. He couldn't hear anymore of this. "I have to take a shower. I need to be in the office early."

"Josh-"

"I've got a meeting with Vinick at seven, and he'll nail me to the wall if I don't have my facts straight."

He headed for the bathroom, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Wait." Reluctantly he turned around. She was watching him with more concern and less anger than he'd been expecting. She tipped her head to try and catch his eye. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured her, but it was a thin lie and Donna saw right through it.

Her hand tightened on his arm, pulling him closer. "Joshua…" she breathed, as if at a loss. And then, apparently struck by an idea, her expression changed and a glint came into her eye. "Any chance you'll get home in time for dinner tonight?"

He could feel her warmth through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and suddenly craved her touch more than his next breath. "I'll try," he promised, pulling her gruffly into his arms.

She clung to him, her voice shaking a little. "Don't think about that day, Josh," she whispered urgently. "Never look back."

"I know," he murmured. "I know you're right."

He felt her relax in his arms, felt her mood lift. "Get home early." She planted an enticing kiss close to his ear. "We'll order Chinese and eat in bed."

Feeling her soft and comforting weight in his arms, Josh kicked himself for spending the night on the sofa; if he could, he'd have gone to bed right then, curled up with her and slept for a week. "Sounds good," he breathed, kissing her face and then her warm lips. "Sounds fantastic…"

"Yes," she smiled. "Yes, it does."

Suddenly he didn't want to let go, not ever again. Pulling her into a fierce hug, he buried his face against her neck. "Let's call in sick," he mumbled, only half-joking. "Let's just stay in bed today."

Donna laughed and kissed him again. "We can do that?"

"I wish we could." He let his forehead come to rest against hers. "I really wish we could…"

It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but to his shock it was the first time he'd actually meant it. And he had no idea what that fact meant.

By eight o'clock, Donna was firmly ensconced behind her desk and the pile of paperwork that greeted her every morning. Most of it consisted of requests by worthy organizations for the First Lady's patronage, each one more deserving than the last. It would have broken Helen's heart to have to turn down so many, which was why Donna was careful to make sure that every request came across her desk first. Her own heart, she noted, had become hardened to the task. A perk of the job, or a side-effect? She wasn't entirely sure, but certainly there were advantages to tamping down on those softer emotions.

It helped her to stay focused, for one thing. Kept her from drifting off into confused thoughts about spending the night alone while Josh slept on the sofa… Stay busy, she told herself, stay focused. It'll all work out. After everything the world had thrown at her and Josh - bullets, bombs and Amy Gardner to name but three - she knew nothing could upset the boat now. Even the most stable of relationships had rocky moments; she only had to spend a day with the Santos family to see that first hand.

Pushing all thoughts of Josh from her mind, she went back to sorting through the patronage requests. Education was Mrs. Santos's first priority, so anything that touched on-

Her phone rang. She smiled at the thought that it might be Josh, and picked up right away. "Hey."

Ella, her assistant, answered. "I've got a call from someone called Colin Ayres. He said he's a friend…?"

Donna found herself staring at her office door in shock. "Colin Ayres?"

"You don't know him? I'm sorry, he said he was a friend so I-"

"No, no it's fine. I know who he is." She hesitated, strangely unsure how to handle this particular ghost. The last time she'd seen him she'd still been in hospital, and it wasn't a welcome memory. "I'm tied up right now," she told Ella. "Could you take a number and tell him I'll call back?"

"Sure thing."

Donna hung up and listened to the sound of her heart thudding in her chest. Colin Ayres; he stirred too many disturbing memories to let her hear his name with composure. Not just the explosion and its aftermath either, but before that... She had a vivid memory of the night they'd spent together, of how much she'd wanted to feel something just to dull the unbearable ache she'd been living with for so long. She remembered closing her eyes and telling herself it was good for her - she was declaring her independence, breaking the chains that had tied her to Josh for so long. She remembered hating it and loving it, hating him and loving him because he wasn't Josh.

And she remembered missing Josh so much she emailed every day, even though she never got a reply, and she remembered hating herself for her weakness. For all the excitement of being in Gaza, it had been one of the lowest points of her life. And then it had gotten worse…

Shivering, Donna rose to her feet and paced across her office. Three years ago now, yet still so powerful. The turning point in her life, if she was honest. The bomb blast had broken her body, but CJ had shattered her life days earlier with a few words of painful truth. From that point on she'd struggled to rebuild herself in her own image - to be truer to herself. It had gotten her a long way.

It had gotten her here, and that was the silver lining. She couldn't forget that. Everything that had gone before had been torn down, and she had no desire to revisit those shabby ruins of her past mistakes.

And yet…Colin Ayres had called her. The question was, should she respond to that voice from her past or let it drift on by unanswered?

"A treaty negotiation?" The President leaned back in his chair and measured Josh with a careful look. "Vinick thinks we've come that far?"

"He thinks it's possible."

"What do you think?"

Josh smiled a little. "I think you appointed Vinick as Secretary of State, not me."

"I'm still interested in your opinion."

He shrugged. "I think…if people are talking, they're not firing bullets at each other."

"Perceptive."

"I try to be."

"And if the negotiations fall apart without a treaty…?"

"Then we've lost all kudos in the region-"

"-and might need to start banging heads together. Figuratively speaking."

Josh yawned. "Literally works for me."

The President sighed, slouching lower. Josh half expected him to put his feet up on the desk. He couldn't imagine President Bartlet ever being so… nonchalant in the Oval; even after a year in office he found he was still getting used to the changes. "Except 'literally' would probably mean bunker-busters from 20,000 feet," Santos pointed out.

"Yeah." Josh rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue. Launching Armageddon had never been on his agenda when he signed up for his first poli-sci class at high school.

"You look tired," Santos said abruptly, sitting forward and leaning over the desk.

"Too many late nights," Josh smiled, hoping the President would buy the half-truth. Too many sleepless nights was more accurate.

Santos eyed him for a moment, then looked down at the papers on his desk. "How's Donna?"

"Donna?"

"Yeah, you know Donna. Tall, blond. Attractive. Works for my wife."

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Josh got to his feet. "She's good. She's… Attractive, sir?"

Santos repressed a smile. "You hadn't noticed?"

"I noticed. About a decade ago."

"But everything's okay with you guys? I mean… Don't get me wrong, it's just that you've seemed a little tense over the past few weeks."

Oh, for the love of God... "Sir, with all due respect, the state of my relationship with Donna - which is great, by the way - really isn't something you should be worrying about. At all. Ever."

"I'm just concerned, Josh," Santos smiled, getting to his feet. "You need to pace yourself, you need to make time for your life."

"I know. I am."

"When was the last time you had a day off?"

He squirmed a little. "A…whole day?"

"I'll tell you when," Santos said, pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket. "Sunday, June eleventh."

"You walk around with that information?"

Santos fixed him with a pointed look. "I had Ronna check."

"Ah."

"My point is, it's December now."

"Look - I appreciate your concern, sir. I really do. But unless you think I'm not doing my job, you-"

A large hand fell on his shoulder. It was strange, Josh thought, that Santos felt he could pull the fatherly thing even though he was the far less experienced man. "It's not all about work, Josh. Even in these jobs. There has to be a balance, you know? You have to make it balance out."

"I do," Josh assured him. "I do that."

Santos made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like doubt. "Take it from me, Josh, relationships can run out of gasoline sometimes. You need to refuel when you can."

"Yes, sir," Josh agreed, edging toward the door. "Refuel. Well, in fact I was just heading home to, you know, pump some gas." Santos lifted an eyebrow and Josh winced at the unintended double-entendre. "Uh, I mean-"

Fortunately, at that moment, Ronna appeared in the doorway. "Sir, they need you in the sit-room right away. It's China."

The President gave a curt nod and started moving, Josh falling in at his side. "I guess you'll have to stop for gas later," Santos said with a smile. Josh cut him a pained look. "One gas metaphor too many, huh?"

"About three too many. Sir."

"Are you saying I need to work on how I deliver personal advice?"

"No, Mr. President," Josh insisted. "I'm absolutely not saying that. Giving personal advice is the last thing I think you should be working on."

Santos just shook his head and lengthened his stride, leaving Josh trailing in his wake.

By ten thirty, Donna figured he wasn't coming home for dinner. He obviously wasn't going to call and let her know, either. It rankled, but she told herself not to be petty. This was the price you paid for dating - was that the right word? - one of the most powerful men in the country. And she could hardly claim to be surprised, it's not like she didn't know what his schedule would be like. On the other hand, it's not like she'd had much of a choice; you can't choose who you fall in love with.

In my next life, she thought as she picked at the chicken with cashew nuts, I'm going to fall for Mr. Nine-to-Five Family Man. We'll eat together every night, talk about how great our kids are, whether we can afford a bigger house and-- "Die of boredom, probably."

With a sigh, she put down the take-out box and thought about all the work she'd shoved to one side to make it home by nine. She knew it wasn't as easy for Josh, she knew that, and yet…

And yet.

He wasn't here, and she was lonely. Couldn't help that, couldn't stop herself missing him, however good his excuse. Helen Santos probably felt the same, and she knew Abby Bartlet had put her foot down a few times. Crazy women, all of us, to choose this life. These men.

Uncurling her legs, Donna hauled herself from the sofa and padded into the kitchen. She made room in the refrigerator for the rest of the take-out, knowing full well it would never get eaten. But her mother's voice on her shoulder was deafening, You could have that tomorrow. Waste not, want not.

Deciding to at least make the most of an early night, she switched off the lights - just leaving a couple on for Josh - and headed into the bathroom. There was a Post-it note on the mirror, she'd found it when she'd gotten home but hadn't moved it. This was one of Josh's things, one of the incredibly sweet, unexpected things he occasionally did.

You're beautiful, he'd written. I love you.

Sometimes she found them in her coat pocket, occasionally on her desk. When he went away, there'd be a note under her pillow. It was adorable really, and yet tonight it only seemed to highlight the fact that he wasn't here. And she missed him all the more.

She left the note in place while she brushed her teeth and cleaned her face, then took it into the bedroom with her and slipped it into the back of her diary. She kept all the notes he sent her, like a pack rat hording against a famine. Stupid, really. Putting her diary down, her eyes fell on another piece of paper. It had been in her jacket pocket when she got home from work and she'd set it on the night stand when she'd changed. It stared up at her now in the bold handwriting of her assistant, challenging her; Colin Ayres, it said, followed by a DC number.

Should she call him? Would it be rude not to? He'd flown all the way from Gaza to Germany, just to make sure she was okay, and she wasn't sure she'd even thanked him properly. So much of that time was a haze. He'd kept in touch for a while after, but she hadn't really been herself and then life had turned upside down the day she left Josh- The job. She meant the day she left her job. That was Josh's fixation rubbing off on her and she didn't like it.

Suddenly irritated, she picked up the paper. It wouldn't hurt to call Colin and find out what he was doing in DC. She harbored no lingering romantic feelings; their affair had been extremely brief and mostly based on the fact that he wasn't Josh. Nevertheless, Colin had been a nice - interesting - guy and he'd cared enough about her to fly to Germany. That was more than just a one-night stand, and he deserved to have his calls returned. At the very least.

Sitting on the edge of the bed she picked up the phone and dialed. After two rings a familiar, accented voice answered. "Colin Ayres."

Stupidly nervous, Donna found herself smiling. "Colin, hi. It's Donna. Donna Moss…"

Chapter Two

It was past three before the Chinese maneuvers were proven to be largely innocuous saber rattling, and by the time Josh emerged from the sit room and crawled back to his office he figured there was no point in going home. Although he hated doing it, this wasn't the first time he'd slept at work since he and Donna had been together. So he kicked off his shoes and collapsed on the sofa in h is office, falling into a restless sleep until the whine of vacuum cleaners woke him up a couple of hours later.

A sleep deprived headache pounded behind his gritty eyes, and as he hauled himself up from the sofa he had a sudden desire to say 'screw it!' and go home. Ten years ago it would never have crossed his mind, but this whole getting a life thing was playing havoc with his sense of commitment. Or something.

Yawning, he ambled out of the office. No one was around yet, bar the cleaning staff, and he nodded to a couple of nameless faces as he made his way toward the mess in the hope it would be open. Today, he thought grimly, would be powered by caffeine and adrenaline. Again. He was halfway toward the stairs when someone called his name, clearing the clouds away like a spring breeze.

Josh turned and felt a smile ease the tension from his face. "Hey," he said as Donna walked toward him. In her hands, he noticed, were two large coffees and a bag that could, maybe, contain donuts… "You're a sight for sore eyes."

She smiled that affectionate, worried smile he knew so well. "You didn't come home," she said as they fell into step, heading back to his office.

"Sit room," he yawned.

"All night?"

"'Til three. I crashed on the sofa."

"You look terrible."

He smiled at her. "You look beautiful."

Donna shouldered open his office door. "I'm serious," she said as she placed breakfast on the coffee table and sat down on his sofa. "You need to take better care of yourself."

"Tell that to China," he yawned, slumping down next to her. "Did you bring donuts?"

Donna rolled her eyes. "I brought bagels. Toasted, with cream cheese. And juice."

"And coffee? Tell me you brought coffee."

"If you're going to stay up working all night, you can at least eat right," she said, mercifully handing over his coffee. "Junk food and Red Bull won't cut it."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I'm serious."

He smiled over the rim of his coffee. "I know. Thank you."

Donna sighed, one hand rubbing his shoulder. "You look so tired," she said more gently.

"I'm okay," he assured her, although in truth he didn't feel it; what the body could handle at thirty-five took a heavier toll at forty-five.

For a moment it looked as though she wanted to say more, but then her lips pressed together and she just nodded. After a moment she opened her own coffee and took a sip, then pulled out a couple of still-warm bagels and started spreading Philadelphia Lite over half of one. "So… I wanted to run something past you," she said, handing him the bagel.

Josh smiled. "And here I was thinking this was strictly a social call."

Her smile didn't quite reach her nervous lips. "I got a call yesterday. Out of the blue."

"Yeah?" He took a huge bite of bagel, surprised at how hungry he suddenly felt.

"Yes. From…" She glanced at him, then looked away. "From Colin Ayres."

Josh frowned. "Who?"

"Colin Ayres?" She was spreading the other half of the bagel now, concentrating so hard you'd have thought she was being tested on the evenness of the cream cheese. "You know, you met him in… At the hospital."

White hot liquid flared in the center of his chest. "The…IRA guy?"

"Josh…" It was a gentle reprimand.

He took another, aggressive bite of bagel. "What did he want?"

"To meet up for lunch," Donna said, nibbling daintily at her own breakfast.

Something was congealing in the pit of Josh's stomach and he put the bagel down on the table. "He's in DC?"

"Yeah."

"To…see you?"

Donna laughed, although it sounded false. "No. No, he's doing some work for an organization called the Trans-border Peace Fellowship. They're putting on some kind of exhibition - photos and things - about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. It's, uh, trying to break down barriers and prejudice, I guess."

Josh couldn't have cared less. "What's that got to do with you?"

"Nothing. But that's why he's in DC, and since he was here he just, you know, looked me up."

The coffee did nothing to wash the bitter taste from Josh's mouth. "So, you're going to meet up with him?"

"For lunch." She looked over at him, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she'd started talking. "Do you mind?"

"Mind?" He laughed, although he knew it sounded a little forced. "What am I, your mother? Have lunch with who you like."

"I just didn't want you to, you know, think it was a thing."

"A thing?"

"Yeah…" She shrugged, and he couldn't tell if she was self-conscious or irritated. "I didn't want you to feel jealous or anything."

"I don't think it's a thing. He's a jerk. Why would it be a thing?"

"Okay…" She got to her feet. "He's not a jerk, Josh, he's a nice guy. I'm going to have lunch with him, and you're are going to be polite about him."

"I am?"

She pinned him with a sharp look. "Have I ever been rude about any of your ex-girlfriends?"

He squirmed, but couldn't get out of it. "No."

"Right."

"But he was hardly a boyfriend! He was like a…a…one-night-"

"You know nothing about it!" she snapped suddenly, a shocking flash of cold fire in her eyes. "You weren't there, you-" Cutting herself off, she turned away and strode to the door. "Just try not to be jerk for once."

"Donna, wait," he followed her, but although she'd stopped she was still staring at the door and not him. "I'm sorry. I'm not being a jerk, I was just…kidding."

Her head hung. "Okay."

She looked suddenly vulnerable and lost and Josh had no idea what to do or say; of the two of them, Donna was always the one in control in these situations. "Are you…okay?"

"Yeah." Sucking in a deep breath, she lifted her chin and glanced over at him. "Make sure you drink your juice. And no junk today."

"Okay."

Then she reached out and touched his face with her soft, delicate fingers. "Come home tonight."

"I will," he whispered, leaning in to steal a gentle kiss. "I promise." Then he smiled, the expression shaky atop the emotional squall raging inside. "Tell Colin I said 'hi'."

Donna smiled too, nodded, and was gone. Closing his office door, Josh flopped back down on the sofa and forced himself to drink what looked like a gallon of OJ Donna had brought him. Maybe it was the juice, maybe it was the thought of Colin, or maybe it was just the memory of that goddamn hospital room with its tubes and disinfectant and blood… Whatever it was, he felt nauseous. Adrenaline flared like a steady barrage of whiz-bangs in his chest and he wondered how he could feel simultaneously so exhausted and so painfully restless.

More than that, he wondered how he'd make it through the day without chewing Otto's head off.

The café was small and casual and, most importantly, out of the way. Not that Donna was of huge interest to the media, but Josh had taught her long ago that they kept their profiles as low as possible. If the story - any story - was about them, then it wasn't about the President and that was A Bad Thing. Besides, she had very mixed feelings about seeing Colin again, and the cozy atmosphere of Louis's helped her relax.

She toyed with her glass of white wine and wished she hadn't been the one to arrive first. Not that it really mattered, it wasn't a date, but sitting there waiting gave her time to think, and thoughts of Colin inevitably led to thoughts of Gaza and all that had followed. The fallout had spread further than she could possibly have imagined; sometimes she thought it had changed her life entirely. For the better, in the end, but the transition had been painful and nothing about it made her nostalgic. It wasn't his fault, but somehow she saw Colin at the head of the fault-line that had fractured her life and she couldn't help feeling wary at seeing him again.

Josh's reaction, while predictable, hadn't helped. She'd so wanted him to be supportive, to understand the ghosts she was facing, but of course he'd been his usual obtuse self. In his mind, Colin was a threat and he couldn't see beyond that. It was typical of his tunnel vision.

She sighed and took another sip of wine, just as the door opened and let in a blast of chill December air. Donna looked up and there he was, exactly as she remembered from three years ago. Bundled up against the weather, with a small portfolio under one arm, Colin Ayres smiled a wide, open greeting and hurried over to meet her. "Donna Moss," he beamed, laying the portfolio on the table so he could sweep her into a hug, "I can't tell you how good it is to see you. It's been far too long."

She smiled at his enthusiasm and hugged him back. "It really has," she agreed as she pulled away. "You look good."

"So do you," Colin said, with real approval in his voice. "When I think of when I last saw you…"

Donna looked away and sat down with a small shake of her head. "Yeah, well…"

"Ah, I'm sorry," Colin said, joining her at the table and pulling his chair closer to hers. "You don't want to talk about all that, do you?" He smiled. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," she said, casting a cautious eye over his face. It struck her now that he looked a little like Josh and she wondered that she'd never noticed it before. "So how do you like Washington?"

Colin laughed broadly. "It's cold! But the coffee's great."

"We have museums too."

"You do? Ah, yes," he smiled. "Smith-something, am I right?"

Donna laughed and felt herself relax as Colin struggled out of his coat and flagged down a waiter. After they'd ordered, he settled back in his chair and studied her face. It was an intent scrutiny that he didn't bother to hide.

Self-conscious, Donna tucked her hair behind her ear and said, "What?"

"You look different," Colin said. "Still beautiful, to be sure. But…I don't know. More yourself, if you get what I'm saying."

It was an astute observation and it surprised her. "I guess I've changed in the last couple of years. A lot's changed."

"That it has," Colin agreed. Then he smiled, "So this is where I ask if you're seeing anyone..."

Donna smiled and felt herself blush. "Yeah, I… I'm sorry, I'm with someone."

"Of course you are." He sounded disappointed, and didn't seem to mind that she knew it. And that surprised her too. "I hope he treats you well, Donna Moss."

She laughed at that. "Treats me well?"

"Ah, you know what I mean," Colin grinned.

"He's… He works a lot, but when he's around he's very sweet."

"It's not…?" Colin leaned forward over the table, his eyes suddenly bright with curiosity. "It's not that guy you worked with? What was his name? He was at the hospital… Jacob? Jack?"

"Josh," Donna corrected. "Yeah, it's Josh."

Colin laughed out loud. "Really? Well... I guess I was out gunned from the start, eh?"

"We weren't… I was his assistant back then."

"His assistant?" Colin chuckled again. "He didn't tell me that."

"Well, that's Josh for you, he's very-"

"Oh, now, don't blame the guy. He didn't punch me on the nose, and for that I'm grateful."

"It wasn't like that between us then," Donna assured him, "our relationship was strictly professional."

Colin's mouth stretched into an easy grin. "For sure, most bosses would fly halfway around the world in only the clothes they're standing up in, to sit for a week at the bedside of their assistant. It's quite common."

"It really wasn't like that, trust me." She felt a tug of guilt at her mild betrayal, but carried on regardless. "He'd probably lost his schedule and was waiting for me to tell him where he had to be."

Colin smiled, although there was a speculative look in his dark eyes. After a moment he turned to the portfolio on the table. "So, since I'm not going to get a date, I guess I should get down to business."

"We have business?"

Before he could answer, the waiter arrived with their food and Colin was forced to pick up the portfolio and rest it on the floor between them. When they were alone again, he said, "I have a proposition for you, Donna. I think - I hope - it's something you're going to want to be involved with. It's a chance, if you like, to add your unique voice to the call for peace and reconciliation in the Middle East."

"Peace and reconciliation?" she repeated, taking a bite of her tuna salad. "I'm listening…"

"It sounds fascinating," Helen Santos said, gazing over the vastness of her desk at her Chief of Staff. "And you certainly seem enthused by the idea."

Donna smiled. "I am. It's… It feels like, for the first time, something positive could come out of that whole mess. You know? Like a silver lining."

Helen nodded, although there was something bright in Donna's eyes - almost an anger - that gave her pause. "You're sure this won't be too difficult? I mean, it won't bring back too many difficult memories?"

"No. No, I'm fine about all that. It was years ago now, and it didn't- I didn't react too badly, all things considered. And this…I guess it feels like closure. Does that make sense?"

"Makes sense to me," Helen agreed. "If you're happy with it, then I'd say go for it."

Donna smiled her wide, radiant smile. "Then you don't have a problem with me getting involved with the project?"

"Absolutely not - it's a private matter. You're not doing this as my representative."

"Of course not."

"Then, frankly, I don't think it has anything to do with me. It's your life Donna; you have precious little free time and I'm not about to start telling you what to do with it."

Donna rose to her feet. "Thank you Mrs. Santos, I really appreciate your support."

"Of course, Donna." After a moment she added, "What does Josh think?"

A flicker of doubt crossed the other woman's face. "I- I wanted to discuss it with you first, to make sure you didn't have any objections. I'll talk to him about it tonight."

Helen frowned. "You think he'll have a problem with it?"

"It's…complicated. There are some issues." She shrugged and forced a bright smile. "I'll talk him round."

"Just don't let him talk you out of it."

Donna laughed without a lot of humor. "Oh, I don't think there's much chance of that, Ma'am."

He'd done everything he could to get out of work at a decent time, and so when he got home and found the apartment dark and empty Josh couldn't help feeling disappointed - and a little irritated, if he was honest. Not that he'd ever expected Donna to be waiting with his pipe and slippers, but it was the first time he'd been home by nine in forever and-

Her key turned in the lock. In reality, only ten minutes later than himself. He smiled and swallowed his initial disappointment. She was home and they had the rest of the evening to themselves.

As she pushed open the front door, her eyes widened in surprise. "You're home!"

"By hell or high water," he smiled. "You're late."

She raised an arch eyebrow and kicked shut the door. "If my dinner isn't on the table, I'm gonna be mad."

Donna was loaded down with stuff, so Josh moved in to help - and to steal a kiss. "What is all this?" he asked, taking a large portfolio out of her arms.

"Just something," she said vaguely, dropping her briefcase and shucking out of her coat. "God, it's cold out tonight."

"'Tis the season," he agreed, taking her coat and hanging it up. "You fancy Chinese?"

She gave him a quick, sharp look. "I had that yesterday."

"Oh." If her look had been intended to impart something, he didn't get it and decided to press on instead. "Pizza?"

Donna made a face. "Sakana?"

"And that's different from Chinese, how?"

"It's Japanese, Josh."

"And…?"

"Just order will you? I'll have the Chilli Chicken Ramen."

Picking up the portfolio she disappeared into the bedroom, remerging as he finished giving the order. He'd spent almost a decade working with her, he was used to her looking sharp and neatly pressed, and so he still found it oddly exciting to see her in a sweatshirt and plaid pajama bottoms with her hair pulled up into an untidy ponytail.

The broad grin that spread across his face was entirely involuntary, and if she hadn't still been clutching her mysterious blue portfolio he'd have pulled her into a warm hug. Instead he flopped onto the sofa and patted the cushion next to him, inviting her to sit. "They said twenty minutes," he said as she sat down and he draped his arm around her shoulders, relishing the warmth of her presence. He smiled again. "You smell nice."

Donna cocked her head. "I doubt it. I've been running around all day; I feel grimy."

"You feel great," Josh insisted, pulling her closer. "You smell like you. And I like you."

She smiled at that and let her head come to rest against his shoulder. "I like you too."

"That's good then."

"Yeah."

Josh yawned. "So, what you got in the portfolio? The…First Lady's Vogue cover shots?"

"Not exactly," Donna said, sitting up and pulling away from him a little. She hugged the folder closer to her chest and cast him a sideways look. "I need you not to freak out."

Another yawn died in his throat, cut by a sudden tension. He tried to break it with a laugh, but didn't really succeed. "Why? What's in there?"

"You remember I saw Colin for lunch today?"

The fact had blazed in letters of fire across his psyche all day. Not that he was about to admit it. "That was today?"

Her eyes narrowed, guessing his game. "It was. And he had a proposition for me-"

"I bet he did," Josh grumbled, a little louder than intended.

Donna's eyes went, for a moment, extremely cold. Like shards of blue ice. Josh felt himself slapped wide awake and had almost summoned an apology when Donna began talking again. "He wants me to be involved in a peace and reconciliation project."

"A what?"

"It's… It's trying to illustrate… It's going to use photographs and first hand accounts of violence in the Middle East to try and foster better understanding - of all sides in the conflict."

Josh frowned and the aborted yawn finally escaped. He scratched a hand through his hair. "So… What? He wants you to pimp his project to the First Lady? It doesn't sound like her kind of-"

"No. Josh…" Donna's lips pressed together and she sat forward, both her arms wrapped around the folder. "He… There are some…photos. He took some photos. After the explosion in Gaza."

Josh felt his mind go blank; the sense of disconnection was almost physical. Like hitting a switch. "Pictures of what?" he heard himself say, even though he knew the answer somewhere far away.

She didn't look at him. "Of me," she said in a quiet voice. "He said the police wouldn't let him help, so he took photos. It's what he does."

There was a strange swirling sensation in the pit of his stomach; if he'd felt more connected to his body he thought he might have recognized it as rage. "He took photos? You were bleeding to death and he took your photo?"

"The police wouldn't let him help."

And with a horrible, sick sensation he was back there, staring at those god-awful images on the TV, listening to Toby yelling down the phone and knowing - knowing - Donna was in the smoldering wreckage. Dead, dying. Gone. Just gone.

He felt sick, physically sick, and too wired to sit still. "The bastard took your photo?" he said, fingers curling into fists. "Sonofa-" And suddenly he got it, felt his jaw drop in revulsion. "He wants to use the photos, doesn't he? He wants to use them in his pseudo-political exercise in self-promotion, the ground-feeding-"

"Josh-"

"I can't believe it!" He jumped to his feet and began to pace. "This… This is what gives journalism a bad name. This voyeuristic, prurient-"

"Josh."

He turned and saw that Donna was standing too. Her chin was lifted, her eyes alight with a defiance he hadn't seen in over a year. A chill crept over his skin, a cold flush of foreboding.

"I want to be involved, Josh. It's not voyeuristic or anything like that. It's about telling my story, about sharing what happened to me in the hope that - maybe - we can all just…I don't know…learn not to hate each other anymore."

"Learn not to hate each other?" He laughed, he couldn't help himself. "Are you kidding me? Generations of hatred in the Middle East is going to be washed away because some tree-hugging lefty puts your photo up in a DC gallery? That's just-"

"It's not just DC," Donna cut in. "It going to tour - cities in the States, Europe, even Jerusalem if-"

"Who cares? It's meaningless posturing, Donna. It's the worst example of artsy, pointless- It won't change anything. Except Colin Ayres bank balance."

"He's not getting paid, he's-"

"Yeah… this is just going to kill his career."

"That's not why he's doing it."

Josh snorted. "Did he tell you that?"

She was silent for a moment. "At least he's trying to do something - to reach out."

"And we're not? Is that what you think? You think we're-"

"Josh-"

"You have no idea what goes on, Donna. You don't know what I- Just… Look, I'm sorry to rain on your parade, but this isn't going to fly. It's not going to happen."

A humorless smile twisted one corner of her mouth. "It's not going to happen?"

"No," he said. "I'm sorry."

For a moment she just stared at him, then she picked up the blue folder and walked into the kitchen. Leaving it on the counter she began to get out plates and glasses, pulled a half full bottle of wine from the refrigerator and poured herself a generous glass. A brittle silence hung between them; she looked as far away as she'd used to look, back in the terrible time when her eyes had always been cold and her words had been sharp as cracked ice. Josh felt a strange pressure on his chest, an incipient sense of panic. The sword about to fall, the other shoe about to drop. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry and when he said her name the sound was drowned by the sound of the buzzer announcing the arrival of dinner.

Donna answered the door in silence, heavily tipped the delivery guy, and carried the bag to the table. Without a word she began dishing out the food, sat down and started to eat. Josh had the odd sensation that he'd become invisible - redundant, cast-off.

He hated it when she was angry with him. He hated it with a passion.

Fumbling for something - anything - to say, he approached the table and ran his fingers across the back of an empty chair. "Looks like I over ordered…" His smile was watery, but it didn't matter because Donna didn't look up.

"I'm pretty hungry," was all she said, her attention fixed on the noodles in her bowl.

Cautiously, Josh sat down. He wasn't hungry at all, not when she was like this. He couldn't stand it. "Look, Donna? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"Be a jackass?"

He smiled slightly. "I guess. It's just- It's a bad idea, Donna. People like us - we can't court publicity. We can't put ourselves out there, you know that. It's not about us, it's about the President and the First Lady. If you let Colin use those photos… Well, then the story's about you, not Mrs. Santos. Not the President."

She still didn't look up. "What if Mrs. Santos thinks it's okay?"

He felt his eyebrows climb. "You…asked her already?"

"Of course." Donna looked up at last, her eyes still chilly. "She's my boss, Josh. Not you. Of course I ran it past her."

The pressure in the center of his chest was growing now, compressing his breathing into tense puffs of irritation. "Due respect, Donna, Mrs. Santos has less political savvy than-"

"Me?"

"I didn't say that."

"But it's what you meant."

"No, it's not." He leaned forward across the table, trying to breach the chasm. More quietly he said, "Donna, you have to see that this…this stunt isn't going to achieve anything more than increasing your public profile. It's not going to help the Administration and its certainly not going to bring peace to the Middle East, whatever Colin told you."

Her head was turned, eyes gazing out at the city lights. "What if it brings some peace to me?"

"By putting up pictures of…" God, he could hardly imagine. "Of you…in that SUV… How would that-? How could that possibly help you?"

"Because it's doing something with it, Josh. It's using the…the worst thing that's ever happened to me in a positive way. It's…" Her eyes met his, wider now and warmer. Thank God. "Maybe something good can come out of it?"

"You survived," he said quietly, taking her hand. "That's something good. You survived and you're here."

She didn't smile, but she did squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry you don't like the idea."

"It's a terrible idea," he assured her.

Donna didn't answer, just pulled her hand from his. "You should eat before it gets cold," she said. "I'm going to take a shower and have an early night. I'm exhausted."

"An early night sounds good," he said with a smile.

"I meant to sleep."

"I can do that too."

Donna didn't answer, just carried her half-full plate into the kitchen, scraped the content into the trash, then picked up the folder and headed into the bedroom. The door shut with an ominous clunk and Josh was reminded of Alisa's words a couple of days ago.

You don't like being left behind.

It was true, but even worse than being left behind was being left out of the room. That, he thought as he stared at the closed bedroom door, was worse than anything.

Amy Gardner arrived early at work, which wasn't unusual. Although, a couple of years back - before she'd developed what Lou dismissively called 'a life' - she'd have been in earlier. Nonetheless, Josh had already beaten her into the office and as she sauntered up to Margaret's desk she glimpsed him, head down and hard at work. The aroma of coffee drifted through his door - cream, three sugars. She'd never known how he could stomach the stuff.

"Hey," she called from the doorway, since Margaret wasn't around to play gatekeeper. "You in?"

Josh glanced up, blinking a little. Amy wondered if he'd been there all night. "What do you need?"

A lesser woman might have been intimidated by the curt response, but there was absolutely nothing Josh Lyman could do that would intimidate Amy Gardner. She'd seen him with his pants down, after all. Frequently. "You look like you slept in the park," she observed, strolling into his office and taking in the haggard face and disheveled hair.

"It's your obvious respect for me and my position that I love most about you Amy."

"Really? And here I was, thinking it was my a-"

"What do you need?"

She smiled. "Five minutes of your time."

"Is it Hawsley?"

"Yeah. And Adriano."

"You're kidding me? Adriano? He practically camped out on our coattails! He owes us big time, the little-"

Amy held up a hand, cutting off his rant. "Relax, J. Adriano's in the bag; I've got more balls than that little runt. But Hawsley..."

With a sigh, Josh flopped back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He looked tired. "We need to sling him some pork?"

"I was thinking the McKenzie-Reid contract."

He winced. "Didn't we already offer that to Bertram?"

"No, that was the freight thing."

"Right. Okay." He stood up, glanced at his watch and yelled. "Margaret!" There was no answer. Without missing a beat he added, "Okay, offer him McKenzie-Reid, but make it clear-" He fixed her with a killer look . "Make sure he knows that we own him now, lock, stock and smoking barrel."

Amy smiled, feeling that old, familiar thrill. "We're singing from the same hymn sheet, Josh."

"We always did."

"We did?"

He shrugged and cast her a fleeting smile. "Most of the time."

Except when it really mattered. She surprised herself with a flash of regret and felt a sudden, unbidden surge of affection. Maybe because he looked so much like he used to, or maybe because he looked immeasurably more burdened than the firebrand she'd taken to her bed. Either way, she felt something stir that had been dormant for a long while. Her gaze wandered over him until he frowned, but before he could speak she said, "What's going on, Josh?" He feigned innocence, but she saw right through it. She knew him better than some people might think. "You look like crap."

"I get that a lot."

"Yeah? You should work on that." Slowly, she stood up. Once upon a time his gaze would have been fixed on her legs. Not today. Instead he was watching her face, and if she hadn't know him - or herself - better, she'd have suspected he wanted to…talk. About real life. It freaked her a little bit, because the Josh she knew would rather vote Republican than discuss anything as messy as his personal life. Especially with her. She pretty much shared that sentiment; talking had never been their thing. "Listen," she said, busying herself with her own papers, "we should go out and get drunk some night. For old time's sake."

He laughed a little. "Yeah… That would make for great coverage. I'll tell Lou to get some press in the bar."

"There's always my office," she offered, only half-joking. "We could buy beer and order take out."

He laughed again, but there was something more in his eyes. For a heartbeat she thought he'd take her up on the offer, but then the smirk was back and everything else was hidden. "I think you're confusing me with the Josh Lyman who's a twenty-one year old grad student, rather than the one who - you know - runs the country."

"Did we have a coup while I was asleep, Josh?" The deep voice boomed from the doorway to the Oval. "Because last time I looked, I ran the country."

Josh turned, eyebrows climbing. "Mr. President! Ah, what I meant-"

"I know what you meant," the President smiled. "Morning Amy. Any luck with Hawsley?"

"I'll have him on a plate with an apple in his mouth by the end of the day, sir."

Santos looked a little surprised, but Josh just shrugged. "You hired her, sir."

"Guess I did. " He retreated into his office. "Now get in here, will you, Josh? One of us, at least, has a country to run."

"Yes, sir."

As Josh strode after the President, Amy turned to leave. She'd just reached the door when he called her name. "I, uh-" he said awkwardly. "Thanks for…before. Maybe we should do that - get drunk sometime."

"Yeah. Sure. Anytime, J."

He nodded and was gone, but Amy lingered for a moment and pondered the tragic fact that she probably meant exactly what she'd just said. Anytime.

Josh Lyman, it seemed, was a difficult man to get out of your system.

By lunchtime the caffeine buzz was making Josh jittery and threatening to build up into a migraine behind his left eye; either a sign of age, or of his body becoming too used to Donna's health regime and inciting rebellion at his unexpected abuse. Time was - not so long ago, either - when he could live for days at a time on nothing but coffee and sugar. But today, it seemed, was not one of those days.

"Margaret?" he called - quietly, as a concession to the headache. "Have you been for lunch yet?"

She peered around the door, a hint of irritation on her narrowed lips. "Not yet. I can go now, if you need something…?"

"Yeah, get me a…" What the hell was the world coming to? "Get some kind of salad thing, would you? And juice."

Her sculpted eyebrows sketched a perfect arc of surprise. "For you?"

"No, for my invisible friend."

The chin lifted, but she'd been in her job a decade longer than Josh and knew better than to comment. Instead she said, "Blue cheese, Ranch, Italian vinaigrette or-"

"I don't care!"

"It's just that, if you were on a diet, the vinaigrette has-"

"I'm not on a diet!" He glared. Sudden visions of Colin Ayres sweeping Donna into Schwarzenegger style arms filled his aching head. "Do I look like I should be on a diet?"

Margaret shook her head. "No."

"I work out. Twice a week." Sometimes. Maybe.

"Actually, the last time you went to the gym was-"

"Just get me the salad!"

With a nod, she was gone. In the brief moment of silence that followed, Josh found his eye caught by the phone. He hadn't spoken to Donna all morning; she'd still been asleep when he left, at least she hadn't stirred when he'd whispered goodbye from the bedroom door. Their argument of the night before still hung silently between them and he didn't know how to get past it. She was leaving for Christmas in a couple of days, and the last thing he wanted was for it to be awkward between them when she left. Maybe if he called her and-

"Josh?" It was the President, beckoning toward the Oval with a nod of his head. "You got a moment?"

"Sure," he smiled as he hauled himself to his feet. That never got old, not once. To be this close to the center of the world; to be the guy the President of the United States came to when he needed to get things done. That was something. That was really something.

"I just had Wilkins in here," Santos was saying, circling around his desk the way he did when he was nervous.

Josh felt his adrenaline spike. "Trouble? Did the Chinese-"

"No," the President smiled. "No. He said they made a breakthrough today on the troop reduction schedule."

"That's…good news."

"Yes. For a change."

Except that he wasn't acting like it was good news, he was acting like the proverbial cat on hot bricks. Josh was getting dizzy from watching him circle the room, his fingers touching this, that and everything as he passed. "Sir?" he said at last. "Was there something else?"

Santos stopped pacing, turned and for a brief instant Josh felt their roles reverse; he was the principle and Matthew Santos was about to confess to peeking into the girls' locker room. "Ah…maybe. This is…" Santos laughed nervously, "a little awkward."

Josh wasn't sure whether to yell for Lou or throttle the truth out of Santos on the spot. In a very quiet voice he said, "Tell me what happened."

"Nothing," the President assured him with that big, winning smile. "Don't panic, Josh. I don't have a harem of interns lining up to talk to the press." The smile fell away and the President was back to pacing, his voice deceptively innocent. "Actually," he said, "this is a little bit about you."

"Me?"

Santos grimaced and sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm making a big deal out of this. It's just… What do you know about someone called Colin Ayres and a peace and reconciliation-"

"What?" Josh's first thought was, 'how the hell did Ayres get access to the President?' His second thought spat out like venom. "Donna."

Santos held up his hand. "Now, don't be too mad, she-"

"She brought him here?" He was finding it oddly hard to breathe, as if his lungs had shrunk to a tenth their capacity. "She brought that-"

"No," the President assured him, moving around to at last take a seat on one of the sofas. He motioned for Josh to join him. "Of course she didn't. Helen mentioned it to me last night. She said Donna was pretty excited about it, but this morning she said you- Josh? Are you okay, you look a little…strange."

"I'm fine." His words clawed their way past gritted teeth. "Sir, I'm sorry this got within a hundred yards of you. I already told Donna that it was a no-go, she should never have taken it to Mrs. Santos in the first place and I-"

"I think it's a great idea, Josh. I think the more open we are, the more we share these experiences on all sides, the closer we'll get to a real possibility of reconciliation."

Something vicious and painful was welling up inside and it escaped as a harsh laugh. "It's a publicity stunt! Some two-bit photo journalist wants to raise his profile and-"

"Helen said that Admiral Fitzwallace's widow has contributed a passage."

Josh slammed into a brick wall, losing preconceptions like teeth. "Mrs. Fitzwallace?"

Santos nodded. "Apparently the text will go alongside the images - testimonials from the victims, their families. Including Donna, of course."

His jaw worked, but Josh could find no words. His stomach was churning, but all he could really feel was outrage. He wanted to yell, but this was the Oval and you didn't raise your voice to the President. Not ever. "I don't think it's-"

"Obviously it's up to Donna," Santos said. "But I told Helen - and I'm telling you - that I'd support her if she wanted to do this. I think it's brave, and frankly I don't give a damn if it raises her public profile. The issue - the victims - deserve that."

"Sir, you need to understand that if she's the story - for a day, a week - that knocks the education bill off the front page, it knocks welfare reform out the window, it-"

"Josh…" Santos was on his feet, heading back to his desk. "You know, some things are more important."

He was incredulous. "Mr. President, if you think this exercise in liberal chest beating will do anything more than line Colin Ayres's pockets, then-"

"Maybe it will," the President said, sitting carefully behind his desk. The symbolism wasn't lost on Josh; the tables had turned again and Santos wanted him to know it. "Maybe it won't, but God knows anything's worth a shot at the moment. My point was, some things are more important than getting the education bill on the front page every morning."

"Sir, the Middle East-"

"I was talking about Donna, Josh."

Josh stopped dead and suddenly found himself glowering at the pattern in the carpet. Blood was rushing through his ears in time with his furiously racing heart; mortification and anger vied for the upper hand. "Sir…"

"I've told her she has my blessing, Josh. Why don't you forget politics - just this once - and do the same?"

Jaw clenched, Josh lifted his head and gave a curt nod. "I'll bear that in mind, sir."

Santos smiled. "Okay. Now, go get back to running the country."

"Yes, sir." Turning on his heel, Josh stalked out of the Oval and quietly closed the door behind him. But he didn't stop at his desk and barely slowed as he passed Margaret. If he stopped, he was afraid that his thin veneer of composure would fall away entirely. And that would be catastrophic. "Call Donna 's office," he growled as he stalked past Margaret, "tell her I'm coming over - and tell her she better damn well clear her diary."

He was so furious he could barely see. Or think. Or breathe.

No one went over his head to the President. No one. Not ever.

And not her.

Especially not her.

Donna was halfway through a meeting with NOW when Ella appeared in her doorway, looking spooked. There was very little that rattled Ella Hartstone and Donna sat up straight at the sight of her nervous face.

"I just got a call from Josh's office," Ella said, eyes darting between Donna and the two women sitting in the snug chairs in her office. "Ah, he's on his way over and needs to see you…urgently."

"Urgently?" She kept it calm on the outside, but inwardly she was expecting anything from World War III down.

Ella's eyes widened in a look that suggested it was personal. "Uh, Margaret said I might want to duck."

A wave of irritation brought an embarrassed flush to Donna's face. They never brought personal stuff to work, it was the golden rule; no work at home, no home at work. Whatever this was about, it had no place in her office.

She offered a smile to her guests, one she hoped conveyed professional authority. "When he gets here, Ella, could you tell him I'll come see him as soon as my meeting's over. Tell him three o'clock."

"I should tell the Chief of Staff to leave?"

"I'm sure Josh has better things to do than wait outside my office," Donna pointed out, deliberately turning her attention back to the meeting. But her concentration was shot; part of her was wondering if he was okay - if something had happened to him - the other part was afraid he was going to create a typical Josh Lyman scene in the middle of her office, undermining her authority with the National Organization of Women and-

There was a noise outside. She could hear Ella talking, her pitch and speed rising until…

"Donna!" Josh flung the door open, stopping at the threshold when he saw she wasn't alone. Ella hovered apologetically behind him, but Donna couldn't blame her for having let him past. No one - not even she - could stop Josh when he had that look on his face. He was breathing hard, she could see his chest rising and falling, but he was pale as death. And furious.

Carefully, Donna rose to her feet. "Do you need something?"

He glared, jaw working as if he were chewing a wasp, but said nothing. He didn't leave though, just stood there as immovable as stone and waited for her to clear the room.

Still seated, the two representatives from NOW were studiously avoiding noticing anything; Donna felt their embarrassment as keenly as her own. She was tempted to tell him to wait outside, but this wasn't the time - and definitely not the place - for a confrontation. As usual, where Josh was concerned, hers was the role of conciliator. "Marion? Gail? Maybe we could reconvene in five minutes? Ella can get you some coffee…"

They all but fled and Josh slammed the door behind them so hard that the pictures practically jumped off the wall. Donna started at the sound, which only fuelled her irritation. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Okay, let's make a list," Josh began, starting to pace, "all the things you don't do as Chief of Staff to the First Lady. Number one-"

"Josh, what on Earth…?"

"Number one! We don't - ever - put ourselves center stage."

"Josh…"

"Number two, we don't talk to the First Lady about the petty squabble we had with our boyfriend. Number three…"

She had no idea, absolutely none. "What are you talking about, Josh? I never talk to Mrs. Santos about-"

He whirled on her. "Do I look stupid?"

He didn't; he looked livid. "Josh, just tell me what-"

"Number four…"

"You mean three."

"What?"

"You'd only reached number three."

He stared. There was no humor there, none at all, and that unnerved her because humor was Josh's lifeline - it was his self defense and his sharpest weapon. Without it he looked lifeless, his eyes… She'd seen them look like that before, dull and devoid of the twinkle she'd fallen in love with. That had been a bad time, though, a hard time. And she saw it again now, a deep-seated misery beneath the anger which, despite his incalculable ability to be a jackass, twisted at her heart.

She took a step toward him. "Josh…"

"You don't ever go over my head to the President, Donna. Not ever."

Stopped in her tracks, she just stared. "Josh, I have no idea what you think I've done, but your mind is obviously addled because I'd never dream of doing anything like that. You know I wouldn't."

His lips curled in a disbelieving smirk. "What I know is that I just had the President of the United States - who, I think it's safe to say, has more weighty matters to consider - advising me to let you go play Peacemaker Barbie!"

For a moment the world stopped turning. Or perhaps the veil fell from her eyes. Or maybe she felt a metaphorical bucket of cold water hit her in the face. One of the clichés would suffice. The odd thing was, she wasn't sure if it was the Peacemaker Barbie comment, or the fact that he thought she needed his permission that hurt the most. Both told her exactly how he felt, and in a dizzying moment it took her back to those months after Gaza, and to all the years before that, where every affectionate gesture had been book-ended by a dismissive, thoughtless comment.

It made her want to cry - and then it made her want to hurt him right back. Lifting her chin, she said, "Okay. I assume you're talking about Colin's peace and reconciliation project, so let's get some facts straight. One, Mrs. Santos asked what you thought of the idea, and I told her. Two, I did not - nor would I ever - ask her to involve the President. Three…" She let it hang and waited for his furious gaze to meet hers. "Three, I phoned Colin this morning and told him I'd be happy to be involved. 'Peacemaker Barbie' or not, Josh, I don't need your permission to do this. And I wasn't asking for it. All I wanted was your support, which in hindsight was naïve because when have I ever had that?"

"Oh, I don't know," he shot back angrily. "How about when you perjured yourself in front of the Congressional Committee? Or when you turned up in my office with no money and no job, and then quit, and then expected me to take you back again? Or when you almost threw away your entire career to protect your lousy, loudmouth boyfriend? Or when-"

"Lower your voice!" she snapped, glancing at Mrs. Santos's door.

"I've always been there for you, Donna. But not in this. Not this."

"Why not? I don't see why-"

"Because I can't!"

Silence rang as loud as a slamming door. All she could hear was his breathing, more ragged than it should be, and her own blood pumping angrily through her ears. She wanted to reach out and touch him because he looked so wounded and alone, but she wanted to slap him too and yell that he still didn't respect her. After everything she'd done to prove herself - everything they'd shared over the past year - he could call her Peacemaker Barbie? Is that what he really thought? And did it end there? What about Chief of Staff Barbie? Or Girlfriend Barbie? Is that how he saw her?

At that moment, she loathed him - almost as much as she loved him. And wasn't that the most exquisite of agonies? She tried to work words into her mouth, to call him on it, but the pain in her chest seemed to be constricting her throat and before she had time to formulate a sentence he said,

"I have to go. I have a…thing."

"So that's it? You come here, humiliate and insult me in front of my staff, then leave?"

"I didn't… That's not what I did." He shook his head, suddenly distracted. "We'll talk about it later. At home."

"There's nothing to talk about, Josh. I'm getting involved with Colin's project whether you like it or not."

He pressed his lips together, still angry. "Okay. Whatever."

"And I didn't ask Mrs. Santos to take it to the President."

"Yeah, okay." He blew out a slow, too-controlled breath. "I really have to go, I'm late."

"Fine."

He glanced at her once before he turned to leave. "See you at home?"

She hesitated a fraction before she said, "I'll be late." Truth was, she'd arranged to meet Colin after work and didn't feel like sharing that fact with Josh.

Nonetheless, he fixed her with a look that said he'd picked up the hesitation and guessed what it meant. Donna lifted her chin, refusing to back down, and eventually he dropped her gaze and nodded. Then he was gone, the door wide open in his wake, leaving Donna staring at his retreating back as he stalked toward the west wing. He was angry, but Donna had no regrets; if anyone was the victim here it was her, and she wasn't going to let Josh's hypersensitive political radar silence her. For the first time since the explosion Donna felt as if something positive might come out of the whole nightmare.

And Josh would just have to live with that.

He sat slumped on the sofa today, arms folded and head turned to gaze out the window. Usually he sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward, at once on tenterhooks and determined to dominate the room. His confidence was daunting, born of a brilliant mind and early, sustained success, but today Alisa was seeing another side of Joshua Lyman. This was the side she rarely glimpsed, despite the fact it was the reason he was here in the first place. This was the side of himself that Josh didn't understand at all, the side that caused him the most trouble. A side, Alisa suspected, whose voice was growing louder with every passing year.

"I'm curious," Alisa said, watching him stare out the window, "why it bothers you so much that Donna wants to be involved with this project."

A dark smile slipped onto his face. "You… I don't mean to be rude, but you probably wouldn't understand. It's politics."

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

He glanced at her briefly. "It's- There's a code. We serve at the pleasure of the President. We don't glorify ourselves."

Alisa nodded. "So you feel that by taking part in this exhibition, Donna's elevating herself in the public eye?"

"Yeah," he agreed, although he was gazing out the window again and not meeting her eye. "The Press will be all over it - all over the photos, they'll be everywhere again. On TV, in the papers. I don't see the point in going through all that again."

"There was a lot of TV coverage when the attack first took place. In fact, didn't you hear about it on TV?"

A frown flickered across his face. "Yeah. In the office. CJ told me there'd been an explosion, but she didn't have more than the press so we just-" He stopped, jaw clamping shut.

"You saw it unfolding on television," Alisa said gently. "And now, in a way, Donna's going to put you through that again."

"Not just me," he said quietly. "I mean, there's her parents. Her sister… It's just- I don't know why she'd want to…do that."

"Have you asked her?"

He barked a sharp laugh. "She thinks… Colin Ayres, he- He's sold her a bill of goods. She seriously thinks that plastering a three foot image of herself bleeding to death across some gallery is going to bring peace to the middle east! She's- Donna's very trusting. She likes people too much, she believes the crap they tell her."

"So self-promotion isn't her objective then?"

"God no," he laughed. "Donna? No, it's Ayres. He's the self-promoter, but Donna doesn't see that, of course. Mr. Perfect can't do anything wrong."

Alisa considered that a moment. "I, uh, I'm not sure you've told me how Donna came to know Colin."

The arms grew tighter, jaw clenched. "They… I don't know. They had some kind of thing while she was in Gaza."

"A romantic thing?"

He snorted. "She was there less than two weeks. How romantic could it be?"

"And this was before you and Donna became involved?"

"Yeah," he nodded. Then frowned, "No, not- It was complicated."

"So her relationship-"

"Sordid fling."

"Okay," Alisa smiled. "Her involvement with Colin bothered you? You felt betrayed in some way, even if your relationship with Donna was still platonic."

"No." The denial was instant, and even Josh winced. "I don't know, maybe. Not at the time, I wouldn't have thought about it like that at the time, but I guess in retrospect… Yeah, I hated his breathing guts."

"And now he's back and Donna's involved with him again, albeit in a professional sense."

"I guess."

"And so here's Donna bringing back a lot of bad memories for you, Josh. Colin, the photographs he took and, I sense, a feeling of powerlessness over the situation. When it happened you were thousands of miles away, watching on TV. There was nothing you could do. That must have been very difficult."

"Yeah..."

"And Colin was there."

"Taking photos!"

"Yes, he was there and you weren't and now he's got those photographs and, in a way, he's using them to take Donna back there. Without you. And you can't stop her."

Josh was silent, taking it all in. After a long pause he said, "I'm not using the political fallout as an excuse, if that's what you think."

Alisa shrugged. "I wouldn't say that. But I guess I'm wondering what would happen if you said to Donna something like, 'look, your involvement with this project is bringing up some difficult feelings for me. Can we talk about what happened around the explosion? About your relationship with Colin and how that fitted into our relationship at the time'."

"What would happen if I said that?" Josh asked, eyebrows rising. "Do you mean before or after Donna stopped laughing?"

"She'd laugh?"

"I don't… I'd never say anything like that."

Alisa smiled. "Communication, Josh. It's as important in a relationship as it is in the White House press room."

"We communicate." He was defensive now, legs crossed, arms crossed, body half turned away from her. "It would just irritate her if I said something like that. She doesn't like to feel like she has to- She doesn't like feeling like she has to look after me. And I don't want her to! I don't want her to feel like I'm getting in the way."

Well this was interesting, and typically only arising five minutes before the end of his session. It was too important to drop however, so Alisa pressed on. "That seems unusual to me, Josh."

He glanced up, dark eyes slightly accusatory. "What does?"

"That Donna doesn't like taking care of you. I mean… Isn't that what love relationships are all about? Taking care of each other?"

"Maybe, if this was an episode of 'I love Lucy'. Donna doesn't stay home worrying about my day."

Alisa sat back in her chair and cocked her head. "I didn't for a minute think that she did, Josh. But what I don't understand is… Well, let me be blunt for a moment. If your relationship isn't about taking care of each other, what is it about?"

He thought about that for a good long while. Eventually he shrugged. "I don't know. We're…partners, I guess. A team. We work best when we're together." He shifted around to face her. "I don't mean 'work' work, I just mean that life is easier when we're together. But I don't expect Donna to take care of me. That was her job for seven years, she doesn't want to do it anymore." He gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. "I don't blame her."

It sounded very sad, Alisa thought. Empty. And she wasn't sure she entirely believed the picture he was painting. "I'm going to go out on a limb here, Josh," she said, "and guess that this isn't something you and Donna have discussed."

A brief flicker of triumph lit his face. "It is, actually."

Okay, so she was surprised. "You've discussed Donna not wanting to take care of you?"

"Yeah. Well, it was more her telling me that she found it irritating, but I think she got her point across."

Alisa took a deep breath. "I see. When did this happen?"

"Couple of years ago."

"But after you were involved romantically?"

His eyes shifted away. "No. No it was before that, before she… Before she left."

"Before she quit her job?"

"Yeah."

"Right before she quit her job?"

"I guess."

Alisa couldn't help the sigh that drifted past her lips. "Josh…"

"What?"

"Have you considered that, maybe, what Donna said only reflected her feelings toward her job - and, perhaps, toward you in the role of her boss?"

He shrugged. "She pretty much hated working for me, that's true."

"Hated?" That didn't sound right, either. "From what you've told me, Josh, your relationship with Donna started while you were working together. How could she have hated-"

"You'd have to ask her!" he exclaimed, the words riding on the crest of a humorless laugh. "But she tells everyone how much she hated it. She doesn't even- She deliberately avoids walking past the desk she used to work at, says it brings back bad memories or something."

Alisa frowned and struggled not to judge Donna in absentia. "What about you?" she asked quietly. "How do you remember that time?"

A smile touched his face, the first genuine one she'd seen since he arrived. "It was…incredibly exciting. Backbreaking. Frustrating. I loved all of it - almost all of it."

"And Donna? How do you remember her?"

The smile wilted. "She was- It's like when you see a great movie by yourself - you know it's a great movie, you enjoy it and appreciate it, but when you go and see it with a friend… It's incomparably better. That's what she did, she just turned everything into a joy." He laughed, melancholy as sunset. "I told her that once. Well, not told. But I wrote a note in a book I gave her one Christmas. Donna's a joy bringer, she made everyday a good day."

"And now?"

He shook his head, the smile sliding away. "It's different now, it's more complicated."

"Does she still make everyday a good day?"

Josh didn't answer, just looked down at where his hands sat motionless in his lap.

"What I'm hearing, Josh, is that Donna took care of you for a long time. And that you valued her a great deal for that. But then Donna got frustrated - both professionally and personally. She wanted to move on and the 'taking care' aspect of her job came to represent the fundamental inequality in your relationship - again, both personal and professional. So it became grudging, it became a source of tension. And now, I sense, you're afraid that if you ask her to consider your feelings - to take care of you - the tension will return. And I think you're afraid that, maybe, she'll leave you again."

His jaw worked, lips pressing together and then moving in silent denial. Both eyes closed and he sank his head back against the couch. "Maybe," he said, in little more than a whisper. "Maybe that's it."

Alisa let the silence ride, let Josh live with the idea for a moment. Then, "I think, if you expressed some of this to Donna, you might be surprised by her reaction."

Josh shook his head. "I'm not going to hold her back."

"It's not about holding her back, Josh. You don't have to make any demands, just tell her how this project makes you feel."

"But it's implicit, isn't it?" He opened his eyes again and fixed her with a sharp look. "If I tell her how the very idea of Colin Ayres taking those pictures makes me sick - if I tell her that I never want anyone to see them - then I'm asking her to choose between my feelings and her own. She wants to do this project with him. I know she does. I'm not going to make her choose between what I want and what she wants."

"It's not a choice, Josh. You're just telling her how you feel. You have that right."

He shook his head. "I doubt she'd see it that way - she'd feel manipulated."

"Do you know that, Josh? Have you asked her?"

"I- You don't understand. There's history and she-" His jaw snapped shut and a smile spread across his lips; the mask falling into place. "We've run over."

"Just a little."

"I have to go now, I've got meetings all afternoon."

"Okay," Alisa agreed. "Will I see you next week?"

He gave her an odd look. "It's Christmas next week."

"Yes, and Donna will be away."

Another frown as he rose to his feet. "Yeah."

Alisa remained seated, but smiled up at his hurting face. "I'll be around if you need an ear, Josh. Christmas is difficult for a lot people, for a lot of reasons. And you know it is for you."

Again the half-mocking, half self-deprecating smile. "Okay. Thanks."

"Be well, Josh," Alisa said as he turned toward the door. "And try the talking thing. You might be surprised."

He just smiled, nodded once, and was gone.

It was a cold night, and damp with it; a penetrating cold that seeps through the heaviest coat and right into your bones. Even the festive Christmas lights on the White House lawn couldn't warm Donna as she hurried through the gate and out onto Pennsylvania Avenue. Despite the cold, tourists still took photos and a hardy band of carolers sang their hearts out into the unforgiving night.

It was strange, but Donna wasn't in the mood for Christmas this year. Probably because she was so busy, she reasoned. The five days she'd be spending with her family was a sizable chunk out of her schedule and without Josh…

She sighed, a plume of white condensing in the freezing air. Sometimes she thought he used his Judaism as nothing more than an excuse to avoid spending time with her family; the Lymans of Westport certainly had little in common with the Mosses of Madison. Perhaps the thought was unworthy of her, but after his performance this afternoon Donna wasn't in a forgiving mood. He could be so damn superior! Peacemaker Barbie… She couldn't get his words out of her head, or-

"Donna?" The nasal tone cut through the city noise and grated on Donna's frazzled nerves.

Her feet slowed, despite her urge to keep walking; politeness got the better of her and she turned around. "Hey."

Amy Gardner smiled as she sauntered toward her, apparently oblivious to the cold. "I thought it was you."

"Just heading out to a meeting at the Radisson," Donna said, hoping she'd take the hint. "You heading home?"

Amy shook her head. "Drinks with Senator McKenzie."

"Ah."

"All part of the job," she smiled. "Listen, you want to share a cab? I'm heading your way."

"Great!" Donna's grin was so fixed it felt like plastic; a Barbie smile if ever there was one.

It didn't take long to hail a cab and pretty soon they were sitting in the congested DC traffic watching their breath steam up the windows. Donna peeled off her gloves, loosened her scarf and scrabbled through her mind for idle conversation. She needn't have bothered trying.

"So," Amy began, watching her with that predatory gaze of hers, "how's Josh?"

For a moment Donna was at a loss. This was something they'd never discussed. At least, not since that humiliating night four years ago when Amy had called her on her feelings for him. Donna refused be feel awkward now, refused to feel triumphant either; they were all grown ups. "He's good. Over worked, but who isn't? Anyway, you know that. You probably see him more than I do."

"I guess I do," Amy agreed with a smile that might have been sly, although Donna didn't trust her own judgment on that.

"I didn't mean-" Donna smiled coolly. "I mean you see him a lot, so I was just wondering why you asked."

Amy shrugged. "I don't know, he's seemed a little off his game the past few weeks. I just wondered if everything was okay."

She wanted to tell her it was none of her damn business, but at the same time she couldn't stem a swell of concern. "How do you mean, off his game?"

"Tired, irritable. He's missed a couple of things. I mean, it's okay, I've caught them. But Josh never misses things, does he? Not in legislative affairs."

"He's got a lot on his plate, Amy. And he used to miss stuff all the time." She smiled. "What do you think I was doing for seven years?"

There was a pause, as if Amy was considering what to say next. Whatever it was she seemed to dismiss it because she looked away, out the front windscreen. "Okay. I just thought I'd mention it. He seemed really down this morning, I thought you might know why."

Donna bristled. "I'm sure he'd have told you if he wanted you to know."

Amy smiled at that, still gazing out the window. "Talking was never our forte, Donna."

"No," she agreed. "It wasn't."

"I was fond of him though," Amy said quietly. "Still am, I guess."

Was this some kind of warning? Some kind of declaration of intent? She turned her head to watch Amy who was still staring pensively through the window. Her face was closed, her dark eyes unreadable, and Donna wondered if that's how she'd looked herself all those years ago, when the situation had been reversed. Is that how she'd looked those mornings when she'd known, without needing to ask, that he and Amy had been fighting? Did Amy feel that same sense of helpless anger, that same forbidden desire to hold and comfort him?

Amy glanced over and Donna looked sharply away. "We're here," Amy said mildly as the cab pulled up to the curb.

Without another word they got out and Donna paid, waving away Amy's offer to split the ten dollar fair. "Buy me a drink sometime," she muttered, knowing full well that that would never happen.

Amy smiled brightly. "Have a good meeting," she said and, with a toss of her thick hair, strode away.