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.

Donna didn't move for a while, watching the other woman's elegant progress down the street and thinking, again, about Josh. Those memories were so sharp, so painful… How often had she ached to comfort him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him it would all work out? Too many times to count. And now that she could, what was she doing? Arguing. Pushing him away. Did she really need Amy Gardner to tell her that Josh was unhappy?

Suddenly she didn't care that he was a jackass, or that he hated the idea of the peace project, or that he wouldn't spend Christmas with her family. All she wanted was to see him, to make it right between them again.

Her cold fingers were slippery on her cell phone as she pulled it from her purse and dialed. "Colin? Hi, it's me. Look, I'm really sorry. Something's come up and I can't make it this evening." He was mercifully understanding and she kept the conversation short. For some reason even talking to him felt wrong right now. Dialing again she stamped her feet and listened to the phone ring until Margaret eventually picked up. "Josh Lyman's office."

Donna smiled at the strangeness of those words in another's mouth. "Hi, Margaret, it's Donna. Is he in?"

"Let me just check."

For a horrible moment she thought he might refuse her call, but a heartbeat later she heard a click on the line and then a quiet, "Hey."

She closed her eyes in the middle of the bustling street and smiled. "Hey."

A long silence followed before he said, "Where are you? It sounds like the middle of Dupont Circle."

"I'm just walking," she said, blinking open her eyes. "I just- I hate it when we fight."

He sighed. "Yeah, me too."

"I'm heading home," she said, casting about for a cab.

"I thought you had a…meeting."

There was an edge to his voice that cut a little, but she ignored the sensation. Wrapping an arm around herself as she walked, she said, "I cancelled."

"You cancelled Colin?"

"I didn't say it was with Colin."

Another pause. "It was with Colin."

She puffed out a sigh. "Okay it was, and yes I postponed the meeting. I just want to go home, Josh. I've had a horrible day."

"Yeah." There was no victory in his voice, but a lot of feeling beneath the surface. "Yeah, me too."

Her feet stopped walking, her eyes closed again and all there was in the world was the cold night air, the hard plastic of the phone against her ear and the warmth of his distant voice. "Can you come home?" Please.

"Yeah." No hesitation, not a beat. She loved him for that alone. "Yeah, I'll just tidy up some things. I'll be home in about twenty. Is that okay?"

She was smiling again, feeling warmer than she had all day. "It's fine. I'll get dinner on the way home."

"That sounds great." His smile was loud on the line. "You want to pick up a bottle of wine or something too?"

"Already on the list."

"Okay, I'm outa here."

"Hurry home."

"Like a bat outa hell."

She grinned as she snapped shut her phone, her heart lighter than it had felt in a long time. This was how it was meant to be, this was what they did. None of that other stuff mattered, not really.

Peacemaker Barbie doesn't matter?

She ignored the niggle, buried it beneath a cloud of euphoria. In twenty minutes they'd be home, together, and she'd be happy. Being with Josh was the only thing in almost a decade that had truly made her happy, and every couple had their quarrels didn't they? It didn't matter, it was best forgotten.

Determinedly putting the row out of her mind, Donna hailed a cab and made her way home. It had been a horrible day; she was determined it would be a wonderful night.

Most of the time Josh didn't mind his security detail, after all he'd been around these people for the best part of two decades. Sure, it had been a little strange to get used to a guy standing outside his apartment, but it wasn't something that really bothered him most of the time.

Tonight, however, as he ordered the car to pull over outside a florist, he noticed. Mike, the guy on nights, stood patiently outside the store while Josh bought the flowers, and although there wasn't a flicker of anything on his face Josh just knew what he was thinking.

He was a guy, even behind the black suit he was still a guy. And that meant he knew.

Mike was thinking 'he either screwed up or he's hoping to get laid'. Josh felt like he had a neon sign pinned to his forehead and half expected Mike to give him a nudge and a wink as he turned the key in the lock to his apartment. He didn't, of course. Mike was a professional, but it didn't help Josh feel any more relaxed as he stepped inside clutching flowers like a peace offering.

The door clicked shut and at the sound Donna appeared from the bedroom door. She smiled and his heart melted.

"Those are pretty," she said, strolling toward him. She must have been home a while because the suit was gone and she was wearing the little shorts/spaghetti top combo that she knew drove him nuts. He took that as a good sign.

"I'm sorry," he said, dropping his heavy bag on the floor and meeting her halfway. "I shouldn't have come to your office like that…"

Donna smiled slightly and took the flowers from his hand, burying her face in them as she breathed in the scent. "Don't worry about it. Although I think you owe Ella an apology."

"Top of my to-do list."

She looked up, her smile gone and her eyes serious. "Thank you."

"I was just…" Alisa's words hung in his mind, but for the life of him he couldn't remember how she'd suggested he phrase this. Something about Colin and the photos and old feelings. "It's just," he stammered, "this whole peace thing, it's-"

Donna reached up and put a finger on his lips. "Don't."

"Don't?"

She shook her head. "Let's not do this again, Josh. I don't want to argue."

"Neither do I," he said, his voice made a little more breathy than he'd anticipated by the slow passage of her fingertip across his bottom lip. "I just thought we could…you know, talk. Or something."

Her smiled was languorous, like a satisfied cat. "Or something?" The flowers hit the floor with a soft crunch of paper. Her lips were warm and perfect as she pressed herself into him so fiercely he stumbled back a step or two. "Something works for me," she murmured as she nuzzled his neck.

Alisa's advice dissipated, like mist in the heat of the sun. Donna was here, and she wanted him; that was all that mattered.

She was still here.

His hands found her face, touching every treasured angle, every perfect imperfection. He needed her, it was terrifying how desperately he needed her. Body and soul craved her like oxygen and if she ever left him again… God. It was a stiflingly sweet pain; the need and the fear and the utter ecstasy of possessing her in this single, perfect moment.

Don't leave me, he wanted to plead. Please, God, don't leave me again.

But he didn't say it. He couldn't. The words stuck in his chest, not even making it to his lips.

Who needed to talk anyway? Didn't a touch speak a thousand words? Couldn't this fire between them incinerate any lingering hurt or grievance? Couldn't he tell her everything during those transcendent moments of perfect peace they shared in each others' arms?

Surely that was enough.

It had to be, because it was all he had.

Christmas day dawned bright and snowy in Madison, Wisconsin. But despite the twinkling lights, despite the eggnog and roasting turkey, it didn't feel like Christmas.

It was strange, Donna thought as she peeled a pile of potatoes for her mom, that she should miss Josh so much at Christmas. It wasn't really their holiday; she'd only ever spent two Christmases in his company, after all. The first had been after Roslyn, when he'd been tired and strung out and not in the mood for company. Not that that had stopped her from turning up with Chinese and a pumpkin pie she'd cooked (burned) herself. He'd been grateful, she thought, but frazzled. It had been nice, but not like Christmas, and she hadn't minded that at all.

Then there was last year, just a couple of weeks after their trip to the Caribbean, and before she'd really moved all her stuff in. And they'd been so busy with the transition that they'd pretty much worked through, although she'd insisted on a small Christmas tree in his apartment and Josh hadn't objected. He'd even put a present underneath it for her, which she'd thought sweeter than she let on. And that had been sweet too - an executive case, complete with silver business card holder and a nameplate for her desk: Donnatella Moss, Chief of Staff to the First Lady of the United States of America. She'd laughed and told him the thing was so long she'd need a bigger desk. But she'd appreciated the sentiment; it had felt like his seal of approval.

Or was it a joke?

The snide little thought was corrosive, but compelling.

A joke gift for Chief of Staff Barbie?

She stabbed at a potato in irritation and sent it skittering across the counter.

"You look like you're a million miles away," her mom scolded softly. "Or, a couple of thousand at least."

Donna shook her head and retrieved the potato. "I'm fine."

"You're missing Josh," her mom said. "Of course you are."

"A little," she confessed. "But I'm so pleased to be home for once."

"And we're pleased to have you. It's just a shame Josh couldn't make it too. I feel like we hardly know him yet."

Donna hid a wince. "I'm sorry. He wanted to… But it's just not possible for him to get away."

"No, of course not. And I suppose it's not so important to him, either."

"He'd have come if he could have, Mom."

"I'm just saying that it's probably not as significant for him…"

Donna turned, her irritation directed as much toward Josh as her mom. "You mean because he's Jewish?"

Her mother blinked, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, yes…"

"Is that a problem?"

"Of course not! I was just saying-"

"You were just saying that it wasn't important to him to be here! As if- As if he didn't want to be here, as if it wasn't important to him to be here."

"All I meant was-"

"He'd have come with me if he could, okay? He would have." She turned back to the potatoes and started slicing them with a vengeance, trying to get a grip on her suddenly out of control feelings.

After a few moments of silence her mom came to stand next to her at the counter. "I've only met Josh twice, Donna. And one of those times was in Germany, and none of us were at our best. I don't know him well, but what I saw told me that he loves you very much. And for that, I love him. You know I don't care if he goes to church, or temple, or to a mosque or to nothing at all."

Donna pressed her lips together, ashamed of her outburst, confused by her anger. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Things are okay, aren't they? Between the two of you?"

Donna nodded, not prepared to even think about the question. "Everything's fine. We're just busy. There's a lot going on."

"You need to make time for each other," her mom said, reaching for a potato. "Like your Dad and I do."

Donna laughed, shocked at the tears she felt in her eyes. "I don't think bowling is really the thing for me and Josh."

"It doesn't matter what you do," said her mom, "as long as you do it together. You're a team, Donna. You have to make the time to support each other."

She nodded, but couldn't find the will to answer because from the family room she could hear the excited shrieks of her nephews and nieces and in her mind's eye all she could see was Josh's face when he'd told her he wanted nothing to do with Colin Ayres' project.

Somehow the two realities seemed irreconcilable.

Despite his promise to the President, Josh found himself behind his desk on Christmas morning. He'd sent Sam home for three days and he really didn't mind working. What else was he going to do?

But the papers on his desk seemed especially dull, the numbers and figures dissolving into a stream of distracted thought and more than once his eyes drifted out to the sleety drizzle darkening the sky. He missed Donna. He wished she hadn't wanted to go home, but he couldn't blame her. Families were important; he knew that more than most. It reminded him that he hadn't been down to see his mom in an age, and that added guilt to his already un-festive mood.

He checked his watch. Mid-morning, Wisconsin time. He wanted to call her, but wondered if now was a good time. He could imagine a frenzy of gift wrap and eggnog or whatever it was the Moss family did on Christmas morning, and didn't want to intrude.

On the other hand… Screw it. He picked up the phone and dialed. Donna picked up after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she said, a little hurriedly.

"Merry Christmas," he smiled, rocking back in his seat and gazing out the window. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah." There was a pause. "Shame you- Anyway, you busy?"

Not really, although that seemed like the wrong answer. "It's quiet here. I miss you."

"Yeah." Her voice dropped lower, and in the background he could hear the burble of happy voices. "I miss you too."

He closed his eyes and let her words drift through his mind on a wave of gentle guilt. "Did you open my present yet?"

"What present?"

He smiled at her confusion. "It's in your coat pocket."

"Really?" She was smiling, he could picture that beautiful, light-up-the-room smile of hers.

"Did you think I'd forget?"

No answer, which didn't bode well. "Which coat?" she asked, and from the slight breathiness of her voice he guessed she was walking upstairs.

"The- What do you mean, which coat? The black one. The long black one. How many do you have?"

"I have six coats, Josh. But I know the one you mean."

"You're away for three days and you took six coats?"

She sighed, her tone saying 'idiot boy'. "I own six coats, I have two with me."

"Two? That's…one hundred percent redundancy, that's-"

"Josh? This, with the gift in the pocket? It's very sweet. Don't spoil it."

If she'd been in the room he'd have kissed her, just because. "Did you open it yet?"

"I'm still looking."

"It's in the pocket."

"I'm looking in the pocket."

"It's in the-"

"Josh!" He shut up. "Okay, here it is. Awww, you wrapped it and everything."

"Of course I wrapped it!" He sat forward in his chair, elbow on the desk and closed his eyes to better imagine the scene. "Are you opening it now?"

"Yes. This paper is gorgeous. Did Margaret get it for you?"

"No."

"Really?"

"I can buy gift wrap! You don't need an art degree to buy-"

"Oh my God, Josh!"

Her breathless exclamation shut him up; more accurately the grin plastering itself across his face shut him up. "You like it?"

"It's… It's gorgeous. Oh my God, it's so perfect. Are these…? Are these real?"

He loved how, even now, she took nothing for granted. "Yeah, well that's what the woman in the shop told me. I thought the color… I don't know, you always look nice in red."

"I've never-" Her voice was suddenly husky. "I've never had anything like this. How could you…?" He heard her sniff. "Why aren't you here, so I can kiss you to death?"

"I'm beginning to ask myself that same question." Eyes squeezed shut, all he could hear was her voice; everything he wanted to see was in his mind's eye. "I really miss you."

"I can't sleep without you."

"Hurry home."

"I will."

"Call me tonight?" His eyes drifted open, returning him to the real world with a depressing jolt.

"What time?"

"Any time."

"Okay."

"Okay." He sighed and stared down at the papers on his desk. "Well… I'm glad you like the necklace."

"I love it. Thank you."

"Have fun today. Drink too much, eat too much. Don't kiss anyone under the mistletoe."

"No one but you."

"You'd better believe it."

There was a pause, and then she said, "I do love you."

"Yeah." He sighed, because he wished he was there, and he could have been there, and he didn't know why he wasn't. "Yeah… me too."

Sometimes he didn't understand himself at all.

"So things are going well, then?" Alisa asked in that tone Josh knew meant I find that hard to believe.

He shrugged and stared out the window. The sun was low in the sky, the clouds a dark, January-gray; he hated this time of year, the endless winter and the forlorn, abandoned holiday decorations still hanging limp in the sleet. "I think we both understand each other."

"You and Donna?"

"No, me and Martha Stewart."

Alisa smiled faintly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You seem a little tense today, Josh."

He laughed. "I run the country. It's my job to be tense."

"Does it help?"

"What?"

"Does it help you to run the country when you're feeling like this?"

He eyed her narrowly. "You don't know how I'm feeling."

"You pay me a hundred dollars an hour to know how you're feeling, Josh."

"That could change!" he growled, getting up and pacing toward the door. He stopped before he got there, though. And felt like an idiot. "I'm sorry. I really don't- Today's not a good day. There's stuff going on with-" He gave a grim smile and turned around. "I actually can't tell you most of it. Let's just say, there's a lot going on at work. I shouldn't even be here."

"And yet you are…"

"Yeah."

Alisa's professionally expectant face asked for - but didn't demand - more.

"It's…" He sighed, eyed the sofa and went back to sit down. "Everything was fine. When she got back from Wisconsin, it was great. She was…" He smiled at the memory, staring down at his hands. "I got her this necklace for Christmas, and she went nuts over it. I think it was- She grew up in a condo in Madison. She's never really had, you know…"

"Expensive pieces of jewelry?"

"Yeah." He laughed softly, a trace of bitterness marring the memory now. "Everything was great when she got back, it was just like it used to be and then… We had this stupid argument."

"About what?"

"I don't know. Something about me not respecting her choice of take-out. And ever since then there's been…I don't know. Something. A tension."

Alisa was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I think you said Donna started work on the project with Colin…"

"Yeah. Last week. He's got her doing all the scut work, of course. Donna can't say no to anything, so every spare hour she has she's poring over those stupid, bleeding-heart ramblings of his…" He sucked in a deep breath, a little surprised at the venom he could taste in the back of his throat.

"So it's become a little more than Colin just using her photograph?"

"Oh yeah, it's her pet project now. She keeps going on and on about how important it is, and I know he's just feeding her a line. It's all about him, his profile. She doesn't get that he's using her, and I can't say anything because when I do she just throws the whole take-out thing back in my face and I just- I just…." This time his breath shuddered on its way in and he practically had to force his gritted teeth apart to let it out.

"You just what?"

"I just let her get on with it. It's her mistake, I'm not her keeper."

"No, you're not. And you're right, Donna is entitled to make her own mistakes. But I wonder… I wonder, Josh, if you've really explained to Donna how this project makes you feel."

"Oh, she knows," he said, staring out at the brooding clouds. "We don't even talk about it anymore."

"You just let her get on with it."

"Yeah."

There was a pause before Alisa said, "It seems as though the project is very important to Donna."

"Very."

"How do you think it makes her feel, that it's not something she can share with you?"

He shifted awkwardly. "Grateful, probably."

"I doubt that."

Josh flashed her a dark look. "I can't pretend I like the idea, or that I don't think it's a colossal waste of her time and talents. She knows that."

"Does she know how it makes you feel to look at those photos? To remember those events?"

He chilled, from the inside out: the TV image of the over-turned SUV blazed into his mind, Toby's desperate voice shouting in the background, his own yelling, over and over, 'What about Donna? What about Donna? What about Donna?'

"Josh?"

He caught his breath. "Huh?"

"I lost you for a minute there."

"I was… I'm sorry, what was the question?"

Alisa didn't reply right away. "I'm curious about something," she said at last. "After the attack on Donna's convoy, did you suffer any recurrence of PTSD symptoms?"

"I was scared out of my mind. What do you think? I thought she was dead. I thought- I thought she was gone. "

"Did you seek help?"

"Didn't need to."

"Did you tell Donna?"

He laughed. "What? That I was having trouble sleeping without dreaming about hospital waiting rooms and burning SUVs? No. She had enough to deal with."

"So you kept your distance? Emotionally."

"Well, at the time I was her boss, so-"

"Josh…"

"Yeah, okay. Maybe I did. So what?"

Alisa's lips pursed into an awkward smile. "I just want you to think about the parallels here a little bit. After the attack you distanced yourself from Donna. Partly, I suspect, because you wanted to protect her from your own feelings of trauma. You didn't want her to have to worry about you."

He nodded a grudging agreement. "Your point?"

"How long after that did she leave?"

His heart hitched, but he pummeled it back into place. "Nearly six months."

Alisa nodded. "And now she's doing this project - perhaps looking for some support from you - and you're doing the same thing, Josh. You're distancing yourself from dealing with something you actually find very traumatic."

It was strange, he thought distractedly, how his breathing seemed to be much faster than usual even though he was just sitting on the edge of a sofa. "I don't see…"

"Sometimes telling someone how you feel is healing for both of you. You don't have to protect Donna from your feelings, Josh. Quite the opposite. By hiding them you could even make her believe that they don't exist, that you don't care at all."

He shook his head, the denial instinctive. "That's not why- She didn't think that. She doesn't. She knows how I-" He was on his feet, looking for his coat. "I don't want to be rude, but I have a ton of stuff on my desk and I should really go and-"

"Don't lock her out, Josh. She can help you. You can help each other."

"Yeah," he nodded, not looking at her, never wanting to see her smug, calm, preachy face again. "Yeah, I'll make a note of that. I'll uh…call."

And with that he was gone, out into the bracing cold of the afternoon, the oppressive presence of his security detail lurking in his peripheral vision as he stalked away from his car and down the street. He needed to walk, needed to get those thoughts and feelings out of his head.

Screw Alisa, screw therapy. He hadn't driven Donna away. That's not why she'd left. She'd left because of work and- Whatever. He didn't care why she'd left, because she'd come back and that was all that mattered.

But she had known he cared, she'd known he'd have done anything for her when she got back from Germany. Anything!

He hadn't driven her away then, and he wasn't driving her away now. It would be fine. They'd be fine.

Everything would be fine if he could only get rid of the nagging ache right in the center of his chest. That and Colin Ayres…

"Knock, knock." The voice, with its familiar lilt, startled Donna from her perusal of Mrs. Santos's schedule.

"Hey!"

Colin smiled as he slipped into her office. "Wow, this is as big as my apartment."

She smiled too. "Yeah, little larger than the last - cubicle - I had here."

"I bet that's the truth." He glanced out through the window, then back at her. His smile was fading, although it still lurked in his eyes. For some reason it reminded her of Josh - back in the old days, when he still used to smile.

"How did you get in here?" she asked, coming around from behind her desk. "Do you have a pass?"

"I snuck in a window."

Her jaw dropped, before his swift grin betrayed the lie. "Okay," she grinned back. "Stupid question."

"You know," he said, continuing his lazy examination of her office, "I'm not without friends in high places."

"I thought that's what I was," she countered, turning on her heel to track him as he circled.

"Well, you are a friend. And this is a pretty high place, so…" He stopped, and walked closer. "You've come a long way, Donnatella Moss. Who'd have thought it?"

"CJ," she said, giving a serious answer to a frivolous question. "She thought it. She gave me the push. If it wasn't for her…"

"You'd be sitting outside the office of the White House Chief of Staff, taking dictation?"

"Maybe," she agreed, suddenly uneasy with the direction of the conversation. "Talking of which, I have a meeting in the West Wing in half an hour, so…?"

"So you need me to take myself out of your way, would that be right?"

"It would."

Colin nodded, holding out a thick wedge of papers. "I got the full batch of candidates - images and text. I could really use your help going through them, if you have time."

Time! "I'm sure I can… Well, not today. I'm up to my eyes all week actually. Ah-"

"It's fine, I can manage it. I just thought you might want to see-"

"No, I do. I'd like to help. Let me think…" She grabbed her personal diary from her desk and thumbed through it. Today had a red line diagonally across it with Josh working through written along it; the State of the Union was only ten days away and he'd pretty much blocked off the whole two weeks. She hadn't done more than kiss him good morning since Sunday. She snapped shut the diary. "How about tonight?"

"That would be brilliant. Here?"

Donna shook her head. "How about…" It suddenly seemed strange to suggest it, although she couldn't exactly put her finger on why. "Would you mind coming over to my place? Josh won't be home all night anyway and I'd rather keep it separate from work. I don't want it to, you know, appear as if I'm doing this on government time. Does that make sense?"

He smiled at her fondly, his eyes alight - he had nice warm, brown eyes. "You are a woman of principle, Donna. It makes perfect sense."

There was a pause - a confusing moment where he was looking at her in a way that seemed… She turned away, not sure what had happened, not sure she wanted to know what had happened. "About nine o'clock?"

"Perfect. I'll bring dinner."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. It's the least I can do for taking up all your spare time - I know you have a hundred other things you could be doing."

She smiled, glancing over at him again. "I'm happy to do this. I want to."

"I know. That's what makes you such a remarkable woman, Donna Moss. You have a great big, generous heart and I hope-" He stopped himself and smiled. "I hope people appreciate it."

"People?"

He shrugged, and nodded toward the door. "I'll go, before I make you late for your meeting."

"Okay."

"You like Thai food?"

"Love it."

"Great. See you later…" With a final smile he was gone, leaving Donna with an unaccustomed sensation of warmth in the pit of her belly.

That's what makes you such a remarkable woman, Donna Moss.

Those words… Why couldn't they be coming out of Josh's mouth? Why couldn't he feel that about her? Why wasn't he the one making her warm inside? But ever since Christmas - before, if she was honest - he'd been different: cold, detached. He'd made it very clear that he thought Colin's project was a waste of time, that he wasn't remotely interested in what she was doing, and so she'd given up trying to talk to him about it.

Now this big slice of her life was closed to him and she talked to Colin instead, because he smiled when he spoke to her and he listened to what she had to say about how this cataclysmic event had changed her life. She'd told him things she'd never told Josh, could never tell Josh. Like today - just now - when she'd told him about CJ. So much of her past she had to hide from Josh, so much he didn't seem to want to know about.

And as much as she loved him - and she did love him - sometimes she just wanted to be heard.

Sam Seaborn stopped in the doorway and took a moment to ponder the inevitable circularity of life. There were places and people that kept reappearing, turning his life on its head each time they showed up - like some chaotic meteor swinging too close to earth and sending all the oceans sloshing backward and forward in its wake. On reflection, he wasn't sure that meteors could do anything of the sort - maybe it was only the moon. Nonetheless he liked the metaphor, and it was certainly appropriate for this person, in this place.

Josh Lyman; Sam's personal demigod of misrule. Every time he showed up, Sam found himself abandoning lucrative careers in favor of inhuman hours, little money, and more stress than was healthy. If it wasn't for the adrenaline high that came from putting ideals into practice and taking a hand in shaping the future of the country Sam was pretty sure he'd still be back in LA.

But he knew what he got out of this, and it was something money couldn't buy. What he was less sure about - what he'd been unsure about since the day Josh came barging into his office, pasty faced and fighting exhaustion with Redbull and Alka-Seltzer - was what Josh got out of it. The man he saw now, head in hands as he read probably the twentieth briefing book of the day, was not the Josh Lyman who'd been set alight by a speech in Nashua. Time had passed, none of them were the same, but Sam wasn't sure Josh realized that. He wasn't sure Josh realized his fire had burned out.

On cue, Josh sighed and pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn.

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

Startled, Josh glanced up. "-the hell?"

"I'm guessing it was before Christmas, right? I mean - Christmas last year."

Josh slumped back in his chair. "Did you run out of work?"

Sam smiled smugly and brandished the four pages in his hand. "Actually, yes. Final draft."

"Of the…speech?"

"No, my first novel. It might be a little on the short side, but I heard brevity was the art of wit, so-"

Josh was on his feet, prowling around his desk to snatch the speech from Sam's hand. "When you say final draft…?"

"It includes comments from State, Defense-"

"The President?"

"You're just going to keep asking stupid questions, aren't you?"

"Right," Josh agreed distractedly as he skimmed over the oh-so-familiar words. "'…an ethical foreign policy that promotes, through dialogue and example, the expansion of the values for which our forefathers sacrificed their lives'? Defense let you keep that in?"

"I know," Sam beamed.

"I should get you a medal or something."

"I'd settle for a day off."

Josh smiled. "Yeah. Okay. Good work."

"Yes it is," Sam agreed. "And you know what else was good work? Amy getting Kendrick to drop the rider on 473 two hours before the vote."

Josh eyed him from beneath his brows. "Your point?"

"That a 'Good work, Amy' would have gone down well."

"I said that." He frowned. "Maybe. Whatever. It's Amy, since when does she care about my approval?"

"Since you became her boss?"

He flung the speech on his desk in exasperation, "And since when do you care that she cares?"

"Because she's working hard, Josh! Everyone is. And we're doing good work, we're making a difference. But you're storming around here like a lion with a thorn in his paw and people are starting to worry."

Josh cast him a skeptical look. "Should I call you Androcles?"

"I'm serious, Josh. You set the tone. If you act like you're dying on your feet, eventually everyone else will too."

"I'm not-" He circled back behind the protective barrier of his desk. "I'm fine. It's not like Leo was never hard on us, he had to be. So do I."

"It's got to be leavened, Josh. We- We used to play poker with Leo and the President. We used to watch movies, eat chili. Do you even remember those days?"

A flicker of something dark passed across Josh's face. "Of course I do. But I'm not Leo, Sam. I can't be-"

"God, Josh, no one expects you to be. But there's something else. Tell me I'm wrong, tell me there's not something else going on," he tapped his head, "in here."

"I'm fine." Except Josh had the worst poker face.

"You have to want this, Josh. To do your job? You have to want it more than anything else. And I'm not sure you do."

Josh was shuffling papers now, eyes cast down. "I do. I worked my ass off to win the election, of course I want this."

Stepping further into the room, Sam sat down and studied his friend for a moment. "I had three years away from it, Josh. My perspective shifted. Leo… Josh, he sacrificed his marriage for this job. Would you do the same?"

"I'm not married."

"I wouldn't. I'd walk away and I think you would too. I think… I think you want to."

Josh's head snapped up, an incredulous smile on his lips. "You think I want to walk away from this?"

"Does winning give you the same high it did eight years ago? Does sitting in that chair give you the same adrenalin rush you got from being deputy, working with Leo, CJ, Toby…? With Donna? Tell me it does and I'll walk out this door and never raise the subject again. But I don't think you will because I think you feel empty, I think you're one of the most powerful men in the country and it's not enough anymore." He paused, watching Josh's slow freeze to utter stillness. "Tell me I'm wrong, Josh."

For a moment he didn't move, and then he did the one thing that disarmed friends and enemies alike; he let his guard down. "I don't understand it," he said quietly, looking Sam right in the eye. "This is everything I've wanted since I was ten years old. It should be enough."

Sam almost smiled. "Maybe we shouldn't listen to our ten year old selves when it comes to determining what constitutes a fulfilling life? Otherwise owning Spiderman pajamas would be high on our list of career goals."

"It's not on yours?"

"Josh… It's okay if you want to move on. Do you know the average burnout time in these jobs? Eighteen months. That's it! And you're into your eighth year, Josh. Eight years in the White House…"

"Leo did it."

Sam didn't answer, just fixed Josh with a long look; neither of them needed the obvious spelled out. "If you want to move on, if you want to take your life in a new direction, Josh, it's okay. People do it all the time."

He frowned briefly. "I don't… That's not something I do."

"If you didn't, Matt Santos would be back in Texas remembering his glory days as a two-term Congressman and Arnie Vinick would be in the office next door."

"That was- That was different, I did that for the party. To preserve President Bartlet's legacy. I wasn't just quitting my job."

Sam shook his head and leaned forward. "That doesn't mean it's wrong to quit. No one can do this unless this is all they want to do. There's no shame in having a life, Josh. Or aspiring to one."

"The President is here because of me. I made him stand! I can't- You don't walk away from this."

"Well, far be it from me to undermine your little ego-fest, Josh, but you're not solely responsible for electing President Santos. A lot of people, including - you'll be surprised to know - President Santos, had a role in that."

Josh shook his head. "You don't... You don't just walk away. There's a principle here: duty, honor, country."

"Really? Well, I'm sorry because I must have missed the part where we joined the Marines."

"I'm just saying-"

"No," Sam cut him off. "I'm just saying - if this isn't what you want, then don't do it. Don't do it, because you won't be able to do it. No one could. God, Josh, it's eleven o'clock on a Friday night, you've worked twenty hours a day for the last - I don't even know how long. Donna's probably forgotten what you look like! What are you doing here?"

Josh glared into the middle distance. "My job. What are you doing here?"

"Dispensing the advice of an old married man."

"You've…been married for six months."

"It changes you. I'm serious."

"Is this…?" Josh suddenly looked panicked. "Are you trying to tell me you're quitting?"

"No! No. I don't have your job, Josh. And, to be frank, I don't want it. But I know what it's like on the outside, and I'm not afraid of going back out there if this ever demands more of me than I'm prepared to give." He pushed himself to his feet. "You should think about it. You've given twenty years, Josh. How much more are you willing to sacrifice for duty, honor and country?"

His friend didn't answer, just watched with a sour expression as Sam left. But Sam wasn't worried; deep down, Josh knew he was right. Question was, would he admit it to himself? And if he did, would he act on it?

As he pulled out his cell to call home, Sam figured the odds on that one were pretty much even. He certainly wouldn't put money on it.

It had been a nice evening. The Thai food was gorgeous and the company hadn't been bad either. Colin was smart, funny and incredibly knowledgeable about the world. The places he'd visited, the things he'd seen and done… It spun her head. Or perhaps that was the bottle and a half of Sauvignon Blanc they'd sunk between them. Either way, Donna found herself happily curled up in the corner of the sofa, sipping her wine as she listened to Colin describe his three day journey by cargo ship from Bogotá to the Amazonian national park. Their work, long forgotten, spilled across the floor at her feet, in its midst her aborted attempt to put into words her thoughts and feelings about what had happened in Gaza.

"I should dig out the photos some time," Colin said, reaching for the bottle again. "Some of them were spectacular."

"Did you sell many?"

He shook his head. "I didn't try. I was in Columbia for other things, this was just a little holiday - vacation." He smiled. "See? I'm bilingual."

"I'm impressed." And she was, but for other reasons. "Don't you ever get afraid? The places you go, the things you see there?"

Colin settled back against the cushions and studied his glass. "The world isn't as scary as most Americans tend to think it is, Donna." He held up a hand to forestall any protest. "I'm not saying there's no violence out there, that would be ridiculous. But all the people I meet, everywhere I go, the vast, vast majority are just ordinary folk trying to get by. Just like you or me. I'm no more scared in Bogotá or Lebanon than in DC or Dublin."

"In my life," she said softly, "I've been overseas one time. That was to Gaza."

His breath left him in a long sigh and he reached over to touch her knee. "You were bloody unlucky, Donna. And that's the truth. But when I travel, it's not with the Stars and Stripes painted on my luggage, if you get what I mean."

"That's pretty…" She shook her head and closed her eyes against the knot of anger in her chest. "They tried to kill me because I'm American."

"You know they did."

"That's… That makes me so- I was there to learn! To find out what life was like for people there, to report back. I wasn't- I was trying to help!"

His hand on her knee tightened. "I know. And the people you talked to, and saw there? They weren't the people who planted the bomb, they weren't-"

A key turned in the front door. Donna opened her eyes, her mind a little sluggish from the wine, and watched as the door swung open and Josh walked in. His face went from weary relief to shocked in a heartbeat and he just stood there, bag slung over his shoulder, and stared at her. She was vaguely aware of Colin's hand moving off her knee as she said, "Josh… I didn't think you'd be home."

"I, uh… Sam said I should-" And suddenly his shock was gone, replaced by a coldly ironic smile. "I guess I should have called ahead."

Donna felt the heat rush to her face; half guilt and half anger, although she wasn't sure why she should feel either. "We were working on the testimonials for the exhibition."

"Yeah. I can see that…"

"Joshua," Colin said, talking over him as he rose to his feet. "It's good to see you again. Better circumstances and all that."

"Yeah," Josh agreed, stepping forward and - to Donna's surprise - extending a hand. "Good to see you."

They shook, and it was horrible because Josh's face was all pinched and pale and not like himself, and he wasn't looking at her or at Colin. "I, uh," he said, waving vaguely toward the room he sometimes used as a study. "I have some work so… I won't- I won't disturb you."

"Have you eaten?" Donna asked, half rising as he passed the sofa. "There's some green chicken curry-"

"I'm not hungry." He still wasn't looking at her. "I'm just… Excuse me."

With that he disappeared into the study and closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Donna and Colin in a profoundly awkward silence.

"I should be making a move," Colin said at last, keeping his voice low. "It's late."

"Yeah," Donna agreed. "I'm sorry- He didn't mean to be rude," she said, stooping to gather the papers from the floor. "I should have told him you were coming over."

"Don't worry about it."

"If he'd known-"

"Do you need his permission?"

"No."

"Well then." He took the papers from her hands. "I really appreciate you going through these with me, it was a big help."

"I enjoyed it." And that was the truth. "It's given me some ideas about how to approach my own testimonial."

"It'll be fine," he assured her. "From your heart to your fingertips, Donna. Just write what you feel."

She laughed softly as they walked toward the door. "If only it was so easy."

"It is," he said, leaning in to kiss her briefly on the cheek. "It is that easy. Trust me."

She smiled. "Okay."

"Okay then. I'll see you soon. We can get into the gallery from next week, start getting the photos up. I can't wait to show you."

"I can't wait to see it." And that was the truth too. "I'm excited."

He looked at her for moment and nodded. "Me too, Donna Moss. Me too."

The study door remained closed for the next half hour, and if it hadn't been so late Donna might have let it stay that way for longer. But it was after midnight, the living room was tidy again, she was ready for bed and she knew she wouldn't sleep with this hanging over her head. So she girded herself, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

She was met by the quiet strains of Schubert, which didn't bode well. She expected to see Josh at the desk, bent over his laptop, but he wasn't there. Instead he stood by the window, gazing out at the dark streets, his back to the door. She wasn't sure he knew she was there until he spoke. "Hope I didn't spoil your plans tonight."

His meaning was obvious, and it hurt. "Colin came over to talk about the personal testimonials for the photo submissions - he wanted my help deciding which ones we should include."

He snorted a dry laugh. "Of course he did."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm not an idiot!"

"I can't believe you think-"

"What am I supposed to think?" he snapped, spinning around to face her. "I come home and find you and him all cozy on my sofa-"

"We were talking!"

"He had his hand on your leg!"

"He was- We were talking about Gaza! He was comforting me."

"Oh please!" Josh threw up his hands in disbelief. "He wasn't comforting you! He wasn't after your great wisdom and advice, either, Donna."

"You don't know what-"

"Don't be so naive! He's trying to get into your pants. That's what this whole thing is about, and if you don't see that then you're more stupid than I thought."

It felt like she'd been slapped. As the air rushed into her lungs in a sharp gasp she saw it register on Josh's face too. He closed his eyes briefly, pursed his lips. "I didn't mean-" he faltered. "I didn't mean that."

But he did. She knew he did, because it's exactly what he'd always thought of her and he'd only started hiding it in recent years. She lifted her chin. "Perhaps," she said icily, "you see in him what you see in yourself, Josh." He didn't answer, just stared at her with unreadable eyes. She couldn't hold that look and turned away. "I'm going to bed."

He didn't follow, and as she walked toward the bedroom she heard the study door shut, cutting her off from the divine tones of The Ave Maria. And from Josh.

She'd never felt so lonely in her life.

Eventually the music stopped, but Josh didn't stir. For a while he listened to Donna moving around the apartment, turning off lights, going to bed. And then she was silent too. Outside in the rainy night an occasional car rolled past and, inside, Josh found he couldn't move from the window. He was cold and tired, and strangely frozen. All he saw reflected in the night-black glass was the tableau that had greeted him; Donna all ease and smiles, and that man with his hands on her. Touching her.

He'd been back in the hospital as soon as Ayres' face had registered; the endless waiting they'd endured in a barely civil silence still festered, largely unexamined. Bad enough that Donna had been hurt, bad enough that he'd nearly lost her; worse, that this interloper had stood between them, this nobody who could touch her in ways Josh couldn't, who had touched her, had held her, and God knew what else.

He felt sick. The memory made him nauseous.

And now here Ayres was again, insinuating himself into her life, charming her away from him. And if she left… For a moment it felt as though he couldn't catch his breath, as if his heart had actually stopped beating.

He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, and let his forehead come to rest against the cold glass of the window. He wanted, so badly, to feel her arms around him right now, to hear her telling him everything was okay. But she'd been so cold when she left, and he was so angry. So angry at her.

He'd trusted her! Loved her. Let her into his life in ways he'd never done before, and now this… He didn't even know why he was so shocked; it wasn't the first time, after all. Deep down, he'd always known how it would end; one day he'd come home from work and find her gone. That's how it would be. She'd be gone, her stuff would be gone, and it would all be over. Just like before, only worse. Infinitely worse.

An emasculating surge of tears bunched in the base of his throat and he fought them back viciously. He sucked in a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, and felt a gentle hand on his back.

"Josh?" His breath became a gasp as he turned and saw her standing beside him, her face concerned. "Can we…? Can we just not do this?"

"This?"

"Fight. Again."

"Yeah…" He turned away from the window as if he were waking from a nightmare, expecting her to move away and turn cold and distant. But instead, her hand caught his and squeezed tight; he felt as if he'd been given a reprieve. He could breathe again, but he couldn't quite look at her. "I- I'm sorry if I was a jerk, before. I didn't mean…"

"I should have told you he was coming over. I'm sorry too. It was just work." She tipped her head a little, trying to catch his eye. "You know that, right? There's nothing else going on."

Josh nodded. "It's just- It was late, and I was… I missed you."

Her free hand touched his face with a painful softness. "Come to bed, Joshua. It's lonely without you."

"Donna…" There was so much to say, but he choked on the words. He didn't know how it was possible to love and fear her so much, but when he met her eyes all he wanted to do was lose himself inside her and forget it all. Just forget it all.

With a sad little smile Donna reached over and kissed him. "I hate it when we argue," she murmured against his lips. "I hate it."

"Me too." Except sometimes it felt as if arguing was all they did. Arguing, and then this… Her skin was silk beneath his hands, her body warm and firm and insistent as they stumbled into the bedroom and into each other and screwed away another fight.

But they were dancing on a fault line; sooner or later, Josh knew, something was going to give.

The restaurant was busy - as you'd expect on a night like this. Colin was amazed they'd got a table; then again, perhaps he wasn't. His 'date', for want of a better word, had some strings to pull. He liked that. Truth was, he liked a lot of things about her. More, maybe, than he should. Then again, maybe not. Time would tell; this evening, he thought, would tell.

She arrived late, which was unusual. Donna Moss was a stickler for punctuality. But today she arrived late, looking worn-out and beautiful. Always beautiful, because it came from inside - from behind those eyes full of warmth and integrity. He smiled as he stood up to greet her, and it was no word of a lie when he said, "You look amazing."

A little shake of her head denied it, a little frown dimming her loveliness for a moment. "Don't say that. I've come straight from work, I haven't even changed."

"I'm just glad you're here. And I mean it, you look amazing."

She managed a, "Thank you," but it was distracted. She was distracted, very distracted; he could guess why.

"You know, until I got your phone call this afternoon, I was expecting to spend Valentine's with only a beer for company."

"Then I've saved you."

"That you have."

She pulled the elegantly folded napkin from the plate and spread it across her lap. "Josh had to work," she said, not looking at him as she fiddled with the fabric.

"Ah."

"He'd- If he could have gotten away…" Her voice trailed off huskily.

"Donna…" If the man had been in the room, Colin would have been sorely tempted to knock his lights out. "I'm sorry for this, Donna, but it has to be said. He's an idiot. He's a bloody idiot."

She shook her head. "No. He's not, it's just- You don't know how busy he is."

"Ah, screw that," he said softly, outraged by the tremor in her voice. "What's he doing tonight then? Negotiating world peace single handed? You make room in your life for the woman you love."

Her lips pressed together for a moment, then she lifted her chin and smiled determinedly. "Can we talk about something else?"

Colin didn't answer right away; she looked so sad behind her smile, so lonely, he didn't want to drop the subject. This Lyman character was a right ejit; what kind of fucked-up work ethic put your job before your family? Only in America, as they liked to say… But he bit his tongue - for now. Instead he poured the wine he'd already ordered and smiled at her. "The pictures arrived today. Including yours. It looks… Astonishing. Really astonishing."

A little life came back into her face. "Really? You're not just saying that because you took the picture?"

He smiled. "Well, naturally."

After a pause, she said, "I can't wait to see it."

"Come over tomorrow, it'll be hung by then. It's fantastic, Donna. It's so powerful. And you know what? I showed your piece to Michael Shelton, and he told me he was moved to tears. How about that?"

"Really?" She was genuinely astonished; no fake modesty with Donna Moss. "He said that?"

"He did. And I don't blame him. It's a beautiful piece Donna. Really beautiful."

She smiled self consciously. "I had a little help…"

A curious flutter of envy gave Colin's next words more of an edge than he'd intended. "Josh read it then?"

Donna's smile fled. "No. No… I asked Lou to take a look."

"They very much felt like your own words…"

"They were," she assured him hurriedly. "She just gave it a polish. Is that okay?"

"It's your piece, Donna. All of it. And the photo. It's all about you, your decision all the way." He raised his glass. "To the grand opening, and to finding your voice, Donna Moss."

She lifted her glass and clinked it against his. "To peace and reconciliation."

"Amen."

They drank and were silent.

Donna's gaze turned inward, her eyes drifting aimlessly around the crowded restaurant full of happy couples. Colin let the silence linger, let her drift. Her face was so beautiful, just watching her think was a pleasure. But at length, when Donna's glass was almost empty, she turned her attention back to him and smiled. "Thanks for coming tonight."

"My pleasure. And I mean that most sincerely."

She smiled again, sadly, and let out a heavy sigh. "You must think I'm stupid."

"I think you're amazing."

"You think Josh is an idiot."

He shrugged. "So he is. If he wasn't, he'd be sitting here drinking great wine with the most beautiful woman in Washington, D.C."

"He has to work. The President-"

"Why did you phone me, Donna?"

"What?"

"Why did you invite me here?"

She looked down at her napkin again, frowning. "Because… I don't know. Because I didn't want to be alone, because-"

"Because you're finding your voice, Donna. That's why. I can see it every day. You're finding your voice."

"I'm… My voice?"

He sat forward. "Three years ago, when we met? You were so…timid. You couldn't believe anyone would take you seriously, you were so- Forgive me, but you were so much in that man's shadow. I saw it, right there at the hospital. The way he dominated you, Donna, I swear… He walked in the room and you stopped being the woman I'd met and started being this other person - this snippy little office girl. But that's not you. You're not like that; that's not who you are, Donna. God, when I look at you - when I read what you wrote…? You are so much more than him, more than people like him."

She was staring at him, astonished. "Colin…"

"Joshua Lyman is all about repression, Donna. You don't see it, but I do. He represses himself and he represses you; he controls you. There's no life there, no fun. No joy! Look at you, with your sad eyes and your broken heart. It's Valentine's day, Donna. The one day out of a whole year when you should throw open your arms and scream to the world, I love this woman. I love her! And where is he? Shuffling papers, Donna. Shuffling bloody papers."

"It's not like that," she protested. "He's…" But she couldn't finish because her eyes were bright and her lip was trembling.

"There's so much life in you, Donna Moss. I can see it burning inside you, desperate to get out. You feel it, don't you?"

Her wide eyes blinked and she gave a scant nod.

"Yes. God, Donna, don't you see?" He reached over and took her hand; her fingers were long and slender and still. "I know why you phoned me, Donna."

"Colin…"

"You can't live like that anymore."

She was staring, tears pooling in her eyes ready to fall.

"Don't you see?" he murmured, squeezing her hand. "Don't you see that you don't have to? " And as he said the words he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her lips.

She didn't respond, and when he pulled back she hung her head and stared again at the napkin in her lap. "You're right," she whispered brokenly. "I feel like I'm dying inside."

"I know," he whispered, running his thumb over the back of her hand. "And I can bring you back to life."

But she shook her head. "No, you don't understand. I'm sorry if I've-" She looked up, tears on her cheeks now. "I didn't mean to give the wrong impression, Colin. I'm so sorry if I've…" Her voice cracked and she struggled for a moment to compose herself. "I have to go."

He held onto her hand as she rose to her feet. "Wait-"

"I am dying inside, Colin, but it's not what you think." She pulled her hand from his and reached for her purse. "Josh is… He's the only man I've ever loved, the only man I ever want to be with. And I'm- I'm losing him. I'm losing him and I don't know why, and that's what's killing me."

"Donna-" He was on his feet in an instant. "I'm sorry. If I misread-"

"It's okay."

He smiled. "I doubt that. Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I kissed you. That was-"

"It's okay."

And, sadly, he knew it was; in that moment, he understood that for some reason known only to God it really was okay, because the only man this incredible woman cared for was a pasty-faced, smug, sarcastic civil servant. It was incredible. Yet, apparently, true.

With an awkward smile, she nodded toward the door. "I should probably…"

"Yeah. Probably."

"I'll see you at the gallery tomorrow?"

"Good. Do that."

She hesitated, "No hard feelings, right?"

"No. None at all."

"Okay, well…" She started to move toward the door, but at the last moment he called out.

"Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"You could always ask him, you know."

She frowned. "Ask him what?"

"Why you're losing him."

Her mouth pressed into a tight line and she shook her head. "That's not- That's not how we do things."

And with that she was gone, back into her walled-in little world. Colin sat back down, poured himself another glass of wine, and wondered how long it would be before she called him again.

She'd woken on Valentine's morning to a blue sky, unusually warm sunshine, and an empty bed. She'd dressed for spring, because the sun was out and she was tired of her dark suits and heavy winter coat, and she'd hoped… She'd hoped there'd be something on the kitchen counter, or on the dining table, or, perhaps, on her desk at work.

But there'd been no flowers. No chocolates. Not even a card.

Nothing.

It was still hard for Donna to acknowledge the fact, and she'd brushed off Mrs. Santos's questions with a laugh and a hint of something at home. It had felt too humiliating to confess the truth; that the man she loved had forgotten her entirely. And there had always been the hope that he would surprise her, that the flowers or the card or the chocolates would arrive. But they hadn't, and by six she felt so let down that she'd exacted her own, passive revenge by calling Colin and asking him to dinner.

It had been a stupid, childish move and Colin Ayres had deserved better; in retrospect she wasn't surprised that he'd kissed her. What else do you do when someone asks you out on Valentine's day?

Lying alone in bed now she could still feel his kiss on her lips. It had been passionate, but strange - too different, too uncomfortable - and she didn't want to remember it because that felt too much like betrayal. Although sometimes she wondered if Josh would even care; if he could forget - or ignore - Valentine's Day then he could do the same to her. Maybe he already had.

He hadn't come home that night. Again. The whole administration was consumed by the peacekeeping operation, she knew that, and she knew how deep in it Josh was buried. But before, even on the longest days, he'd crawled home at night, just for a couple of hours. Now he didn't bother; he'd sooner sleep in the office. Just like last night. And that hurt. It really hurt.

She rolled over and watched the clock ticking toward five-thirty; another half hour before she had to drag herself out of bed. She wondered if she should call Josh on the whole Valentine's thing, or if that was just petty and juvenile. Did cards and flowers really matter when you loved someone? Probably not. But when you were-

The shrill ring of her phone startled her. Grabbing it from her nightstand she saw the call was a work number - but not one she recognized. "Donna Moss…"

"Donna? It's Lou."

"Lou?" Please, not another PR disaster for Helen Santos… "What's happened?"

There was an uncomfortable pause. "You should come in."

"What's-?"

"You need to come in now. You're going to want to see this before Josh."

"Has Mrs. Santos-?"

"Just come in, Donna. Right now."

She was out of the apartment and on her way in twenty minutes, her hair scraped back into a ponytail and her makeup minimally applied. And the whole time she was wracking her brains, trying to work out what could have gone wrong; had Helen said something? Was it another thong-gate crisis? Had she accidentally endorsed something on behalf of the First Lady that had blown up in their faces? Whatever it was, it was serious enough to involve Josh and his staff, and that was bad news. She only felt a tenuous authority in her post, if she'd let something slip that caused the administration damage…?

Barbie Chief of Staff, her mind whispered. Maybe he was right all along.

The thought of letting down the President, Mrs. Santos - Josh - made her sick to her stomach and she clutched the steering wheel with white fingers as she cruised through the empty streets and into the parking lot. It was all she could do not to run all the way into the West Wing; as it was she arrived in the communications bull pen breathless and discomposed.

No one was there except for Lou, who sat in what Donna still thought of as Toby's office. Her dark hair spilled through her fingers as she sat, head in hands, reading something on the desk. At Donna's light knock she lifted her head, but didn't smile.

"I got here as fast as I could," Donna said, edging into the room. "Think I ran a couple of red lights."

Lou sighed. "Let's hope there were no cameras…" Getting up, she snatched something from her desk and walked over to where Donna hovered nervously near the doorway. "You should close the door."

Her heart in her throat - with no idea what was about to happen - Donna closed the door and all-but bit her lip. "Lou, what's-?"

"I got a call this morning from someone I know." Lou held out half a front page. "The New York Sun's running this today."

Donna took it with trembling fingers - and then her heart stopped. Stopped dead. Beneath the headline, 'White House Love Cheat' were two grainy photographs of herself and Colin Ayres; in one he was holding her hand across a dinner table, in the other he was kissing her.

All she could hear was the blood pumping through her ears, all she could see was the photograph in her hands. All she could think was, "I have to see Josh." Her words tumbled out in a jumble, barely coherent. "I have to see him before-"

"He's still in the sit room," Lou said, and Donna didn't miss the cool inflection to her voice. "They've been down there all night, more or less."

"This isn't what it looks like," Donna blurted. "We were just-" Just what? "He just kissed me."

Lou held up her hand. "It's none of my business, Donna. Except that when this comes across my desk, it is my business. Because now I have to spin it to protect Josh and the administration. This is, literally, the last thing we need."

"I know. I'm sorry, I don't know how… How did they get this?"

"Who cares? They got it, and in three hours Bram's walking into the press room and taking questions. What's he saying?"

Donna shook her head. "I don't know."

"You have to know, Donna."

"I need to talk to Josh."

"Well he's a little busy averting World War Three!"

Donna flinched. Lou and Josh had never exactly been friends, but Donna recognized in her the loyalty he inspired.

After a moment, Lou took a deep breath. "Sorry. This is just- This isn't what I signed up for."

"I know," Donna agreed. "Me neither. But you have to believe me, this is a non-story. There's nothing going on between me and Colin."

"Except you're working on the controversial Peace and Reconciliation project with him - at odds, I might say, with administration policy on Israel."

"How's it at odds-?"

"Because we don't criticize Israel."

"I'm not-"

Lou waved her hand. "Whatever. The point is, this is a story. You, Josh, Ayres… It's a story and we have to spin it."

Donna's head was spinning, never mind the story. "I- Can't you just say we're friends?"

"Just good friends?" Lou made a face.

"He kissed me. I told him I wasn't interested and I swear that's all that happened."

Lou eyed her for a moment. "You want Bram to take that into the press room?"

"It's the truth."

"They won't believe it."

"Why not?"

"Because the truth is boring. And because it was Valentine's night, you were out with Ayres, and I'm sorry but that looks like a pretty thorough kiss."

There was a lead weight in the center of Donna's chest, her legs buckled and she found herself sitting on Lou's sofa. "Then what…?"

"I was thinking 'we don't comment on tabloid gossip', 'the personal lives of White House staff isn't a legitimate subject for press attention'. Maybe have the First Lady express her confidence in you as Chief of Staff. Something like that."

Nodding numbly, Donna couldn't think of an alternative. She could barely think at all beyond the need to see Josh, to explain this before he saw it somewhere else. God, if he saw it first… "I need to see Josh," she said again. "I need to explain."

Lou gave a curt nod. "Explain fast." Her gaze drifted out toward the bullpen. "I see Margaret with coffee and donuts. They're probably taking a break."

Getting slowly to her feet, Donna glimpsed Margaret, a high octane breakfast in hand, heading back toward Josh's office. She could picture him sitting behind his desk, tired and hungry, and her stomach flipped over at the thought of what she was about to land on him; if only she hadn't called Colin, if only there hadn't been a photographer - if only Josh had sent her a damn Valentine's!

"I'll go now," she said in a dry whisper. "I'll talk to him now."

But as she left Lou's office and began the long walk through the silent bull pen, Donna couldn't even imagine how she was going to begin the conversation…

Margaret seemed surprised to see Donna, but she didn't comment; she knew better than that. Instead, she just waved her through with a weary smile and it occurred to Donna that she had probably been there all night too. Just as Donna would have been in her position - and had been, for all those loyal years. And yet last night…

Her stomach churned, her mouth felt dry as she pushed open the door to Josh's office and stepped inside. He was behind his desk, looking dog tired, but he dredged up a smile when he saw her.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Her lips opened, but no sound came out.

Josh frowned and scrubbed a tired hand through his hair. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine. Josh-"

"Sorry I didn't make it home last night," he sighed. "Believe me, I wanted to. But there was just no way…"

"It's fine." She took a step closer, wishing he didn't look so tired, so in need of her. "Josh-"

"Oh! Did you find-?"

"Josh, listen to me." It came out a whole lot sharper than she'd intended.

He frowned at her, puzzled. "What's going on?"

In her hand the newsprint felt clammy. She didn't want him to see this, she wanted to burn it and never let him see it. But that wasn't an option; honesty was all she had left. Swallowing hard she lifted her hand and held out the cutting. "The New York Sun is running this today. I'm sorry."

He didn't look down, his eyes stayed fixed on hers with a silent plea that broke her heart. "What is it?"

"I'm so sorry."

After an eternity he broke her gaze and looked down at the newspaper in his hand. Donna forced herself to watch, so she saw the fleeting look of shock pass over his face, saw the hurt that came in its wake and didn't leave. She saw the way he looked away from the newspaper, the way he forced himself not to react. "This is…" The words came on the crest of a humorless laugh. "You couldn't have told me about this before the papers?"

"It's not what it looks like." God, that sounded lame. "I swear, Josh. It's not what it looks like."

"Isn't it?" The laughter was still there, all directed inward. "Did one of you need an emergency tonsillectomy or-" He broke off, leaving the joke to wither. "Has Lou seen it?"

"Yes. She called me in."

He nodded. "She's spinning it?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

Donna felt her cheeks flush, because it sounded so very inadequate. "We don't comment on the personal lives of-" She took a step forward, reached for his hand. "Josh…?" But he pulled away, circling around his chair until both that and his desk were between them.

"I, uh, I'm pretty busy," he said, his gaze dipped. "So…"

"You have to believe me, Josh. It was- He kissed me and I told him I wasn't interested. I'm not interested, it just happened. It didn't mean anything."

Josh nodded, but he still wasn't looking at her. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Look, I have China about to- I don't have time for this right now. None of us do."

"I know. I'm sorry. It was stupid, and if I could do it again I wouldn't, but-"

"There were hearts," he said suddenly. "In the background of the picture, there were little hearts hanging down." He looked at her at last, his dark eyes bruised. "This was taken last night?"

She could only nod.

"Okay…" His fingers tapped on the back of his chair. "Okay. I have to be back in the sit room in five, and I need to eat, so…"

"You shouldn't eat donuts," she said quietly. "They're bad for your cholesterol, you need-"

"What I need-" His voice cracked and he turned abruptly away to stare out the window.

She knew if she could just touch him, breach the gap, she could make him understand. But he was too far away. Lost, already.

With a deep breath, or maybe a sigh, he straightened his shoulders. After a moment he turned around and fixed her with a look cold enough to freeze stone; the hurt was gone, anger sat in its place. "I need to focus on, you know, important things right now. Tell Lou to spin this however she likes, but I don't want it in more than one news cycle."

"Josh, come home tonight. We can talk about it."

"Yeah." He moved to sit at his desk, snatching up the nearest batch of papers. "Yeah, okay."

Then his nose was buried in work and she was dismissed. Just like that.

With a leaden heart she watched him hurting, knowing there was nothing she could do - not yet, not here. But at home, she could explain. She'd make him understand, get past his anger…

Because the alternative was losing him, and she couldn't live with that. Not again.

On the first day she sat in her office and wished the floor would open beneath her. She endured Mrs. Santos's kindly meant commiserations about the tabloid press and tried not to notice the slight surprise in her eyes, the slight doubt. She watched Bram take the question in the press room, and watched him rebuff it with a practiced ease she'd never have suspected a year ago. She held her head high when she snatched a coffee in the commissary and tried not to let the aroma remind her of Josh and the hurt she'd caused him.

She spent the day wishing it was the night, and spent the night wishing he'd come home. But he didn't.

On the second day she made it half way to the West Wing before she changed her mind and scurried back to her office; she'd give him the space he needed. On her way she passed Amy Gardner who nodded the coldest of greetings and looked at her as if she were seeing her afresh.

That evening she tidied the apartment, put a nice bottle of wine into the refrigerator, and waited for Josh. She was still waiting when her alarm went off the next morning, and she wasn't sure she'd slept a wink.

On the third morning she got a call from Margaret. It was awkward and embarrassed; Josh had hardly left the sit room in days, he needed some things from home. Not much, Margaret said, just the essentials. Would it be okay if she stopped by and collected what he needed?

It was the end. Donna knew that. She knew Josh well enough, had seen him do this to other women, in different ways. She told Margaret not to worry, that she'd bring in what he needed, and, with a heart slowly freezing, she pulled out a fresh suit, packed a few other essentials, and hung them on the closet door. Then she found her suitcase and threw in the basics - enough to live on ad infinitum when living was work and nothing more. Her stomach recoiled at the thought of breakfast, so she didn't bother eating. Instead she ran the mostly empty dishwasher, made the bed, turned off the lights and left.

By the time she reached the office her day had truncated in her mind to the next half hour; she could think of nothing beyond it. She dropped her case behind her desk, picked up Josh's suit and walked the familiar route to his office. It was early, so she didn't see many people. Margaret was there, of course, and smiled as she rose to her feet to take the clothes from Donna.

Donna didn't let go. "Is he in?" Only now did she think about calling ahead, just to make sure. But she was in luck.

Margaret nodded hesitantly. "He's- I'll just see if he's free…"

Donna knew what that meant, and beat Margaret to the door. "It's okay," she said quietly. "You don't have to-" She smiled bleakly. "It's okay."

Without knocking, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Josh didn't lift his eyes from the briefing he was scanning when the door opened; his focus these past few days had been intense, at the level he usually reserved for election nights or bar exams. And it was good; he was achieving twice as much in half the time now he was free of other distractions. It reminded him of his glory days, of the time when he had lived for this and this alone. He'd thought it gone forever but perhaps-

"Josh?"

His heart lurched and his much vaunted focus splintered like glass. He looked up.

"I brought you your things," Donna said in a cold, distant voice. She wasn't smiling. Neither was he. "Margaret said you needed them."

"Oh. Um, yeah."

She laid the suit carrier over the sofa on which he'd spent the past four nights, and glanced once around his office. He felt rumpled and unkempt and wished she'd leave.

Donna's eyes rested on him at last, but he couldn't read what she was thinking. He thought she was angry, which was pretty ballsy given what she'd done - was doing, for all he knew. "Margaret could have got them," he said, nodding toward the clothes.

"I told her I would." She took a deep breath, her chin lifting. "You can- You can go home, Josh."

"What?"

"You know what I mean," she said, turning abruptly away. "I've known you too long, Josh. I know this game and I don't want to play. You can go home, it's safe. I won't be there."

And that, right there, was when the other shoe dropped.

He was seized by a horrific panic, a hundred desperate appeals fighting to be heard: don't go, don't leave me, I'm sorry! Please. In the name of God, don't leave me again…But none of them left his frozen lips, none of them left his frozen heart. She was going, and deep down he'd known this was how it would end. He'd always known, because that's how things always ended. People moved on. People left.

Donna left.

He couldn't breathe because there was something the weight of a bowling ball resting on his chest, all he could do was watch her as she looked at him sideways, already half turned toward the door. It was as if she was expecting something from him - expecting him to speak. Perhaps she wanted his blessing, wanted to hear that Colin Ayres was a great guy, wanted to know that there were no hard feelings.

But he couldn't say any of those things, he couldn't even draw breath. Donna was leaving him, just like she'd done twice before, and the shock left him reeling; he was completely at sea, completely disorientated. Knowing it was coming hadn't helped; it hurt even more than he'd imagined, so much more profoundly than last time. All he could do was watch as she turned and walked out of his office and out of his life.

Her parting act of mercy was to close the door, because for a full five minutes he couldn't move an inch. Then, deep inside, something gave way and the tears came, silently and remorselessly, swept along on a despairing wave of grief.

A bullet through the heart had been easier to bear than this. So much easier.

As winter thawed into a mild spring, the atmosphere in the West Wing stayed icy. Not that it wasn't efficient, Sam thought, but it was a cold efficiency. Work was done, changes were made, bills were passed; it was an effective, dynamic administration. But it wasn't a warm one. There wasn't much laughter, not a lot of frivolity, and perhaps that was how it should be in such hallowed halls. Except Sam could remember turkeys in CJ's office, late night poker games, and arguing about the ERA with Ainsley Hayes until three in the morning. And those things didn't happen in Josh Lyman's White House.

If Josh had been hard-line before his split with Donna, in the weeks immediately afterward he was positively stony. Oh, he was smiling again now - two months on - but the smiles were perfunctory, designed to keep concern at arms length. He'd say he was fine, if anyone asked. But very few were that brave. Sam Seaborn, of course, was one of those brave few…

On this day, with a strengthening sun casting warm light into Josh's office, Sam was on what he'd come to consider 'go-between' duty. If the President's CoS needed to talk to the First Lady's, then Sam was the guy; from state dinners to school functions, Sam had de facto taken over all liaison with the First Lady's office. And he wouldn't have minded that so much if it hadn't been for the subtext. The subtext was driving him to the point of insanity, and quite possibly beyond; at times he felt as though he'd been dumped into a bad high school drama. And, frankly, he'd had enough.

"Donna said to remind you that she'll be attending the Breast Cancer Awareness dinner," Sam said as he walked into Josh's office. "And - to make myself perfectly clear about this - I'd just like to say that is the last of those adolescent messages I'm passing on."

Josh glanced up from his reading. "Did she say if she was staying for the whole thing, or just-"

"You think I'm joking about this, but you'll realize later that I'm not, and that'll be when I hand you my resignation and get on a plane back to California."

"You…wouldn't do that."

"In a New York minute, Josh."

He sighed and pushed away the papers he'd been reading. "I don't know why it's such a big deal. I'd do the same for you, if-"

"No. You wouldn't. And I'll tell you why. Because I'm an adult, and I'm capable of having adult conversations with women, even after they've ripped my still-beating heart from my chest and trampled it to dust with their spiked heels."

Josh blinked. "That's… Are you talking about-?"

"I'm talking about you!" Sam sighed and sank onto the sofa. "Josh… You have to sort this out, it's getting…well, to be frank, embarrassing. You can't not talk to her."

"I talk to her."

"When?"

"I…" He fumbled for a moment. "Uh…last week…at the thing. She asked me if the President was wearing a blue tie for the Daughters of the American Revolution fund raiser, and I said she should go find someone who gave a damn."

"I'm very impressed."

"Yes. So, what's your point?"

"My point is that you look like an idiot."

And that got his attention; the sarcastic smile slipped into a glare. "What?"

"You look like an idiot, Josh."

"I look like an idiot? She's the one making out on the front of the National Enquirer!"

For a moment there, the hurt lashed out. Sam could see it in his friend's eyes, see it in the angry twist of his lips. And as much as he liked Donna, Sam couldn't help feeling a little of that anger himself; Josh hadn't deserved this. "I know," he said more quietly. "And if that had been Laura… It was unforgivable."

Josh looked sharply down, his fingers toying with a pen, tapping it anxiously against the desk. "Unforgivable?"

The confusion of hope and despair in his voice twisted Sam's sympathy until it hurt. "Not unforgivable. Not if you- Josh, why don't you just talk to her?"

"About what? Colin?"

"She says she's not seeing him."

"Yeah, I bought that one too. The first time."

"I don't think she's lying. She seems… She seems upset. She always asks after you."

A sour smile touched Josh's lips. "And you tell her I'm having lots of sex, right? With brunettes. I like brunettes."

Sam just shook his head. "You still love her. You can work this out."

Josh's face went perfectly still. After a silent moment he carefully stood and went the window, hands in pockets as he stared out. "You love Laura, right?"

"Of course."

"You love her a lot?"

"Yes…"

He nodded. "Is there-? Are there any circumstances under which you would ever take another woman out - let's say, on Valentine's Day - and kiss her the way…" His voice grew husky and he cleared his throat. "Because I've thought about it - a lot - and I can't think of one. I can't even imagine..."

Sam didn't really have an answer. At least, not one Josh would like. "Unless you talk to her, you'll never-"

"I don't want to hear her excuses."

"So don't ask for them, ask for the truth."

Josh turned back around, his sardonic smile drooping into misery. "I don't want to hear that either."

"So you're just going to walk away from this? From Donna?"

"I'm not the one who walked away."

Sam sighed. "I don't know what to say to you. I hate seeing you like this, Josh."

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not."

"No." He sighed. "I'm not."

"You should come over, have dinner with us. We'll get drunk."

Josh smiled, a little more convincingly. "The getting drunk part sounds good, but I'm not sure I can handle the domestic bliss right now."

"Then we'll just get drunk. In a bar, as men do."

"Will there be post-grads? Cute ones?"

Sam rose to his feet and headed for the door. "Josh - at this point in life, I think it's time to start looking at the faculty."

Leaving Josh with a barely-there smile on his lips, Sam headed back toward his own office and tried not to blame Donna. But Josh was his friend and he was hurting, and Sam had always been loyal.

By Amy Gardner's reckoning, it had been at least three months since Josh had split from the Nordic Ice Queen. She'd been watching the whole debacle from afar, trying to keep her distance. Trying not to let herself feel too much. After all, she and Josh had had their chance - several of them - and it hadn't worked out. Wrong time, wrong place; she'd been too green and he'd been in love with his assistant. They'd fought like cats and dogs, and screwed like bunny rabbits. Good times, good times indeed…

It was in the past now, and should probably stay there. She had a real relationship, a grown-up lets-grow-old-together relationship, with a guy who didn't want to challenge every word that came out of her mouth. And she liked it, in the way she liked comfortable sweatshirts. But Josh… Never comfortable, always too hot or too cold, always unpredictable. She'd loved - liked - that about him. And she still carried a warm place in her heart for him, and he knew it. Just like he carried a warm place in his heart for her. So it hurt to see him stalking angrily through the corridors he'd fought so hard to claim, hurt to see the cloud hanging over him in these, his glory days.

And for that, she hated Donnatella Moss.

That she could exchange Josh Lyman, one of the most brilliant political minds of his generation, for some two-bit photo journalist was inconceivable. It was like swapping Chateauneuf du Pape for Jacob's Creek Chardonnay, but then she'd never thought Donna Moss was all that smart. Sure, she had the milk-fed, butter-wouldn't-melt looks, but behind those cold blue eyes there was no fire, no passion. No spark.

Her betrayal only confirmed what Amy had long believed; Donna Moss didn't deserve Josh Lyman. He was better off without her, although he didn't seem to know it. Ever since those photos had been published, Josh had been another person; the humor was gone, or was so twisted it was barely recognizable, and the only light in his eyes came from the anger he kept locked up inside.

If things had been different, if she'd been single - or had it been five years earlier - Amy might have tried to…distract him. As it was, she was old and wise enough to see the Dead End sign strung across that particular route. With her usual modus operandi denied to her, Amy found herself at something of a loss. As a friend, which she was, she wanted to cheer him up, to point out why he was better off without Miss Midwest clinging to his coat tails. But she had no idea where to start, and so she had done nothing.

A few months earlier, before the split but when things had seemed rocky, she'd suggested take-out and a beer. She never thought he'd accept it, not then. And she'd imagined the invite long since forgotten on his side, which was why it was so surprising when, looking up in response to a knock on her office door late one evening, she saw Josh standing there holding two bags of Chinese with a bottle of red tucked under his arm.

"Are you gonna help me with this, or not?"

Amy smiled - grinned really. "Did you get a new job, or something?"

"I saw your light on," he said as she took one of the bags from him. "And I remembered you offered…?"

She cast him a sly look. "I did."

He smiled back, edgily, and started unloading food. "I got chicken in black bean sauce…"

"Kung Pao?"

"No. No, I didn't get that."

"Corkscrew?"

"What?"

Amy smiled. "For the wine."

"Oh. It's…a screw cap."

"Classy."

"Only the best for you…"

She smiled again, unscrewed the wine, and went in search of glasses. All she could find were plastic cups, but it was good enough. They spread the food out over her desk and Josh sank into one of the guest chairs and started eating. Amy watched him as she sipped her wine, noting lines that hadn't been there five years ago when she'd know that face so intimately. The years sat heavily on his shoulders, and she wondered if they'd had the same effect on herself. She didn't think so; there was something heavier than time dragging Josh down.

They talked a little about work, and then fell silent. Josh, she noticed, finished most of the wine himself but there was no sign of his usual mania. If anything, he became quieter still as he poked the chopsticks around the bottom of the carton. She wondered why he was here, what he wanted from her now. Sex? A rebound fling? In other circumstances she'd have considered it, but-

"Do you ever think about doing something else?" he asked suddenly, draining the last of the wine from his plastic cup.

"Something else? Like what?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Teach. Write. Travel the world."

"I've considered Tahiti."

He smiled at that, a regretful little smile. "Yeah." He tipped the rest of the wine into his cup, then looked over at her. "Did you want…?"

"No, I'm driving. Which, by the way, you're not."

"Nope," he agreed, stretching out and putting his feet up on her desk. "I have a comfy sofa. I live here now."

"In your office?"

"You never have to make the bed, shop, cook…"

"God, J, can you hear yourself?"

His smile faded. "Yeah." He took a drink. "So, how about you? The woodcutter still keeping you happy?"

"Sculptor. And yes." Although right now, with his collar unbuttoned and tie at half mast, Josh had that rumpled take-me-now look that had always driven her nuts.

"Shame," he said, swallowing the word along with another mouthful of wine.

Amy felt an unexpected flutter, and firmly repressed it. "Since when did you get so bold?"

He raised an eyebrow and flung his devastating smile at her. "Are you turning me down?"

"I'm seeing someone."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

Her attention was suddenly caught by a glint of stark light on blonde hair, and through the window of her office Amy saw the Ice Queen herself stalling in the middle of the bull pen. Her wide eyes were fixed on the sight of Josh and herself, and Amy couldn't resist exacting a little revenge on Josh's behalf.

Reaching over her desk, she slowly undid one of the laces on Josh's shoe. Then pulled on the other one. "I could sue you for slander," she said, smiling for Donna's benefit.

"I'm just speaking from experience," Josh said, his eyes fixed on the shoelaces she was toying with.

"That was a long time ago. I'm different now. I'm…what's the word? Oh yes, happy." Carefully she started tying his laces together. "I know what you think you want, Josh. I know why, and I know you don't really want it."

"You know a lot of things."

Amy flicked a quick glance at Donna. The woman had moved on, almost reaching the edge of the bull pen, but her eyes still lingered. Just to put on a show, Amy ran her fingers along Josh's leg, up toward his knee. Donna fled, pale as snow. And good riddance.

"Amy?" Josh's voice had changed, his gaze darting between her hand on his leg and her face. He seemed suddenly panicked, or lost, or - God - on the verge of tears. She couldn't tell.

Amy pulled her hand away and patted a foot. "You don't want this, Josh. You'd hate yourself. You'd hate me. And we're not the ones you should be hating."

He blinked at her, ran a hand through his hair and sank his head down onto the back of his chair. "I… Don't say it, Amy."

"Say what? Tell you what no one else will? Isn't that why you hired me?"

"I didn't hire you."

She laughed and tightened his laces, making sure his feet were well and truly tied together. "You're a good man, Josh Lyman. You're smart, you're funny, you have too much integrity for politics, and yet you're a brilliant politician."

Josh lifted his head and cast her an amused smile. "Are you really Amy Gardner?"

"I am. And you're all those things. Donna Moss, however-"

"Amy…"

"Donna Moss is a conniving, ungrateful little-"

"Amy!"

"She's half the person you are, Josh. You can do better."

He sighed, his head lolling back. "Not tonight, apparently."

Getting to her feet, Amy moved around the desk and came to crouch next to his chair. "You're a good man, Josh. This'll pass. Eat ice cream."

His head turned to face her. "Ice cream?"

"And chocolate."

"So the plan is I…get really fat? That'll help?"

With a smile, Amy reached over and kissed him softly on the lips. "Thanks for dinner."

Before she could move away, he'd caught her face with one hand. He was drunk, she could see it more clearly this close, and he was miserable; she could see that too. "You're a nice person, Amy. A really nice person."

She took his fingers from her face, kissed them lightly, and set his hand back on his chest. "Don't tell anyone, or I'll never be able to wrangle another vote."

"Secret's safe," he said with a sleepy smile; a smile it was hard to resist.

Amy got to her feet while her resolve held. "I'm going home."

"Yeah," Josh agreed, his eyes drifting shut. "Good idea."

"You sleeping here?"

"Hmmm?"

Literally, by the looks of things. "Don't get up too fast, okay?"

"'Kay…"

For a moment she watched him slump into sleep, worn and tired, and she wondered how the holier than thou Donna Moss could sleep at night. With a sigh, Amy turned off the light and left Josh to his uneasy rest.

When Sam walked into his office, the phone was ringing. Which was par for the course. He picked up, but before he could say a word a familiar voice snapped,

"What the hell's going on?"

He blinked in surprise. "CJ?"

"What the hell's going on, Sam?"

"Well, our new education plan is-"

"With Josh!"

"With Josh?" Sam shrugged out of his coat, swapping the phone from ear to ear. "I don't know, what is going on with Josh?"

"He said something about banging his head."

"What?" Sam sat down. "CJ, what are you talking about?"

"I phoned him, to ask if he and Donna were coming to the wedding - because I hadn't gotten a reply to the invitation - and he mumbled something about banging his head and hung up."

That took a moment to process. "He… Wait. This morning? You called him this morning?"

"No, last month."

"CJ…"

"Of course this morning! Is he okay?"

"I just got here. He banged his head?"

"That's what he said."

"And that's why he can't come to your wedding?"

There was a pause. "I don't think they're connected, no."

"Oh."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Find out if he's damaged and call me back? No, wait, I'll just call Donna and-"

"No!" Sam was on his feet again, and probably shouted the word louder than he'd intended.

"Why not?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Obviously not. Heard what?"

"Josh and Donna… They broke up."

CJ laughed, that wonderful, rich laugh he hadn't known he missed until it came barreling down the telephone. "Is it April 1st again?"

"I'm serious," Sam said, resuming his seat. "There was a thing, in the New York Sun."

She was still chuckling. "They announced it in the Sun?"

"No… No, a photo. Donna with some guy… Look, it's really sordid. Josh is pretty cut up about it."

A long, long pause drifted down the line from California. "Donna cheated? On Josh?"

"She says it was innocent."

"She says? This is Donna Moss we're talking about? Donna 'I worship the ground Josh Lyman walks on' Moss?"

Taking a deep breath, Sam let it out in a long sigh. "I'm not kidding. I wish I were."

There was another, serious pause, then, "Okay, leave it with me. Make sure Josh hasn't brained himself. I'll sort out the rest."

Sam smiled. "Sort out what?"

"The village idiots. Leave it with me. Oh, and make sure they come to my wedding. I don't want to have to send Danny over there to strong arm them."

"No. No you don't." He paused. "How's his back, by the way?"

"Getting better, thanks. Go to work."

Sam found himself listening to the buzz of the disconnected line before he had time to say goodbye, and that made him smile. God, how they missed CJ in this place.

Without even bothering to check his messages, Sam made his way through the empty bull pen to Josh's office. Margaret was hovering in the doorway with a damp towel, and met Sam with a roll of her eyes. "I think he's avoided major trauma," she confided. "But I still think he needs an X-Ray - just to be sure."

Without comment, Sam moved past her and into Josh's office. Josh himself sat behind his desk, lolling back in his chair and holding an ice pack to the side of his head. Sam paused, taking it all in, before he asked, "What happened?"

Josh opened a pained eye. "Amy."

"Amy? Did she-? Did she punch you?"

"No! She tied my shoelaces together and I hit my head on her desk."

For a moment, Sam said nothing. But he couldn't help himself, he just had to laugh. A lot.

"I'm going to get her," Josh vowed, sitting up and pulling the ice from the rather large welt on his head.

"Are you going to pull her pigtails?"

"She just left me there, asleep in her office, and tied my damn shoes together! What's the matter with the woman?"

Sam heard a distant alarm bell ring. "You were asleep in Amy's office?"

"I was-" Josh frowned and winced. "I was confiding in her. So I thought."

"Ah." Confiding?

Josh eyed him again. "So, what do you need? Senior staff's not until seven-thirty."

"I'm here on an errand," Sam said, allowing himself a brief smile. "From our late, great predecessor."

"President Bartlet?"

"Almost. CJ."

"Ah."

"Yes.

"She called."

"I know. You haven't replied to her wedding invitation."

Josh looked shifty. "Ah… I haven't?"

"Josh…"

"I thought Margaret-"

"CJ didn't know about you and Donna."

Josh's lips pressed together as he picked up the ice pack and pressed it to the side of his head again. "No."

"You need to sort it out, Josh. Go and tell Donna, decide how you're going to handle it." When Josh opened his mouth to protest, Sam talked right over him. "It's CJ, Josh. It's her wedding and you can't not go. I won't let you. So you and Donna have to act like actual grown ups and figure this out. For CJ's sake. She deserves it, and you know it."

Josh nodded. "Yeah."

"Go talk to Donna."

"Yeah…"

"But, you know, check your laces first…"

Alisa hadn't seen Josh for a couple of months, but today she'd received a classic Lyman phone call; Do you have some time today? No, it's not urgent. But if you have some time this afternoon…

He'd arrived five minutes late for the appointment though, which struck Alisa as less about his being busy and more about his being reluctant. The drooping shoulders and wan face confirmed her initial assumption as he slumped down onto the sofa, still in his raincoat, and stared out the window in silence.

Alisa didn't say anything right away, gave him space to begin in his own way. But this was unusual for Josh. His usual style was to jump right in with whatever had been bugging him that day. Usually, she'd discovered, the minor irritation was a foil for the real bone of contention and he'd gamely allow her to lead him to the nub of the question. But today there was no pretence, and it was obvious to Alisa that something had happened. Something with which his usual defense mechanisms were unable to cope.

After what had to have been at least five minutes, Alisa felt she had no choice but to speak. "Looks like you're having a hard time."

Still he didn't answer, but she could see the emotions working across his face as he struggled to stay in control. His jaw tightened and he blinked rapidly. When he first attempted to talk, his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. "She's… Donna's gone."

Alisa's heart sank at the sadness in his voice, the grief written on his face. "That must be very painful for you."

He didn't answer; she suspected he couldn't.

She let the silence ride again, giving him time. Eventually, she said quietly, "What happened, Josh?"

He shook his head and sniffed. His voice was so low, she could hardly make out the words. "There was a- There was something in the papers. The New York Sun."

"Something about Donna?"

He glanced over at her, briefly. "Colin Ayres," he said. "There was a photo of- Of them. Together."

She winced slightly. "I'm sorry…"

His head sank back against the sofa and in a quieter voice he said, "I feel like I saw this coming, but I still can't believe it's true. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and she'll be- Stupid, I guess."

Alisa shrugged. "Perfectly natural, Josh."

He nodded slightly, but didn't seem engaged. He didn't seem to care.

"What does Donna have to say about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"What does she have to say about it? About what happened."

His response was curious; he almost looked guilty as he folded his arms across his chest and sank deeper into the sofa.

"Josh?"

He frowned and shook his head.

Carefully, she kept any note of surprise out of her voice. "Have you talked to her about it?"

"About what?"

Alisa couldn't keep a small, incredulous smile from her lips. "About the fact that she left you, Josh. Have you talked to her about it?"

"What's to talk about? She's moved out."

The man was as stubborn as a- "So you didn't confront her about it at all? You just let her walk away?"

He laughed. It was a bleak sound. "I didn't throw myself in front of the door and beg her to stay, if that's what you mean."

"That's not exactly what I meant," she conceded. "I think there's a midway point. Did you ask her why?"

He fidgeted. "I don't want to know why."

"Really?"

"Why does everyone think-? How could a list of my many faults possibly help this situation?"

"It's about having your say, Josh. It's about telling her how you feel."

"Are you talking about 'closure'?" He imbued the word with complete disdain.

"I'm talking about being heard. It seems to me that, in this relationship, both of you have trouble making yourselves heard. I think, for most people in your situation, the first reaction to their partner leaving would be to ask 'why'? Why did you do it? How can you do this to me?"

"I'm not most people."

"We all have a desire - a need - to be heard, Josh. To say 'this hurts' and to be consoled. If you don't express that, if you don't ask Donna 'why' and demand that she hears you - demand that she listens to how she has hurt you - then you're going to hold onto that anger and carry it around with you."

He was silent again, but this time he was thinking. Eventually he said, "What if I want to carry it around with me? What if that's easier than feeling nothing?"

For Josh, it was a surprisingly self-aware statement. "It's natural," Alisa said, "when a relationship ends, to want to maintain it in some way - even if all that's left is anger."

He frowned out the window. "That's…quite pathetic."

"It's completely normal, Josh. But it holds you in one place, it doesn't let you move on. And that anger can sometimes express itself in other ways - unhealthy ways." After a pause, she said, "What happened to your head?"

He looked at her, his expression shrewd and displeased. "I hit it."

"You hit it…?"

"I didn't- I wasn't trying to break a window with my head, if that's what you think."

"Okay."

"I'm not- God, you people always think…" His jaw snapped shut. "I'm not crazy."

"No, you're not. I'm concerned about your head, that's all."

"I hit it… I fell over and hit it on a desk. And, no, I wasn't drunk or under the influence of any other mood altering substance."

She thought she believed him, although Josh wasn't always easy to read. Either way, he wasn't comfortable with the topic so she switched direction. "You haven't been to see me for a while."

"I've been busy."

"Of course." She paused. "Was it the break-up with Donna that prompted you to make an appointment today?"

He half shrugged. "There's a…wedding. I have to ask her about the damn wedding. I haven't- It's a joint invitation, so…"

"You don't want to discuss it with her."

"No."

"Whose wedding is it?"

"A friend of ours. A good friend." He sighed. "She didn't know we'd broken up."

"So you had to tell her?"

"Someone else did, in the end." His gaze slid away from her. "It's been a couple of months."

"Ah." Which explained why he hadn't been to see her.

"The thing is," he said, sinking deeper into the sofa, "CJ and Danny - they're the ones getting married - they… They were always kind of like me and Donna. They had this thing; they couldn't get involved until after we left office, just like me and Donna, and now they're getting married and we're…" He trailed off into a sigh.

"Not."

"Yeah." His head sank wearily against the back of the sofa. "I guess I'd always assumed…"

"Did you ever tell Donna that?"

He shook his head.

"Could you tell her now?"

The look he gave her could have wilted rock. "Now? She's- She's shacked up with Ayres somewhere."

"It's never too late to talk."

"What, in the name of God, would be the point?"

"Donna hurt you," Alisa said. "You had a…a hope for the future, and she betrayed that. She hurt you and you deserve to have that acknowledged. There can still be reparation if you feel that you've been heard - if you feel that Donna understands how much she hurt you and, perhaps, that she feels sorry. That'll help resolve the anger you're carrying. It'll set you free."

His lips curved into a sliver of a smile. "I thought that was the truth."

"What do you think we're talking about?" Alisa said softly. "Just try it, Josh. Just try talking to her."

The morning had dawned gray, and chill for the beginning of May. It had rained all day and now the evening was crowding in darkly. It suited Donna's mood perfectly; gray and chill. She'd looked at her reflection in the mirror that morning and seen it in her skin and her eyes - she'd felt it in her heart all day long.

Life was gray these days, had been since the morning she'd left Josh's warm apartment and not planned on returning. But until last night the grayness had been masked by a veneer of hope - she'd kidded herself that she hadn't really left, that because most of her stuff was still there she was only temporarily absent. She pretended that he must miss her as much as she missed him, that somehow the gulf between them could be crossed. Like they'd crossed it before.

She'd held onto that, kept that hope alive despite the evidence of her eyes; Josh had barely spoken a word to her since that day, he avoided her at events and sent Sam to any meeting where they were likely to meet. When they did see each other, when it was unavoidable, he was politely civil. But he never looked her in the eye, never stood close, and never smiled. She'd never known him so angry, not even after she left the White House; then he'd just looked hurt and ill-used, but not really angry.

Until last night, she hadn't understood the significance of that. But as she'd strolled through the bull pen en route to Sam's office her ears had caught the unmistakable timbre of his voice, and her gaze had slid irresistibly to CJ's old office and through the windows…

Sitting at her desk, Donna let her eyes close as if that small gesture could blot the image from her mind. Josh, comfortable and relaxed with his feet up on Amy Gardner's desk, her predatory smile as dangerous as ever as she'd run lascivious fingers along his leg. Donna's stomach turned, anger and bile making her nauseous.

Amy Gardner. Donna didn't even know why she was surprised; that woman had never wanted to let go. She'd lingered like the smell of day old fish, and now she saw her chance… None of which explained how, not even three months after their split, Josh could-

There was a sharp rap on the door, breaking her out of her painful thoughts. Wishing Ella was still there to run interference, Donna called out a reluctant, "Come in."

The last person she expected to see opened the door and stepped inside. Josh looked disheveled - definitely wearing the same suit he'd been in the previous day - and paler than usual. Donna's heart didn't seem to know how to respond; it thundered in her chest, half in anger and half in hope. This was the first time he'd come to see her since they'd split. "Hey," she said, getting nervously to her feet.

"Hey." Josh was holding something in his hands, a letter by the look of it. "We have to… There's a thing." He held out the letter, barely getting close enough for her to reach it over the desk.

The envelope was the palest gold and shimmering; obviously nothing to do with work. Inside was a simple card, inviting her and Josh to CJ's wedding. Donna had to press her lips together to keep them from trembling. CJ and Danny… They'd done it right; held out for the duration, then decamped to the other side of the country and got themselves lives in the sunshine. She looked up at Josh. "That's nice," she said, her voice throaty with emotion.

"Yeah," Josh agreed. He wasn't looking at her, of course, and as he spoke he turned away.

Donna's eyes widened. "Oh my God, Josh, what happened to your head?"

"It's…" He touched the swelling briefly. "Nothing."

"Have you seen a doctor?"

"I don't need a doctor."

"What happened to your head?"

"I hit it."

"On what?"

"Amy's desk. Now would you-"

Amy's desk. The blood seemed to flee from Donna's head, leaving her suddenly woozy at the thought of how he might have- She had the sudden desire to both sob and punch him.

"-listen, because we have to decide how we're going to handle this," Josh was saying. "If we're, you know, going to go together or…" His hands were in his pockets, he was staring at the floor, his voice rough-edged. "Or bring someone else."

Somehow, Donna found her voice. "Are you bringing someone else?"

He glanced up, and for the first time in forever met her eyes. "Are you?"

"Who would I bring?"

He laughed, bitterly. "Is that meant to be funny?"

"No."

Josh shook his head, chewed at his lower lip. "I don't get- I don't get how you expect me to believe you."

"Maybe if you'd ever trusted or respected me, you-"

"Trusted you? You had your tongue down his damn throat! You-"

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed.

"Yeah, because I'd hate to humiliate you!"

"Josh-"

"I trusted you," he spat. "I trusted you with- God, Donna." He stared at her, looking torn in half. "How could you do that?"

And maybe if she hadn't seen Amy Gardner crawling all over him the previous night she might have let him convince her it was all her fault. But she wasn't the little girl he'd first known - she had a voice now and she knew how to use it. "It was Valentine's day, Josh," she said, surprised at her own cool. "And maybe if you'd sent a card, or a flower, or even a Hershey's Kiss, I might not have called-"

"You…?" He stared at her incredulously. "You called him?"

Her chin lifted. "You didn't even bother to-"

"Because you didn't get a card? They could've put a gun to my head, Donna, and I'd never have- " And suddenly his eyes went deathly cold, like chips of dark ice.

She felt a chill creep around her heart, into her blood. "Josh…"

"No. Doesn't matter anymore. It's done now."

And with that he was gone, leaving her alone with CJ's wedding invitation hanging from her frozen fingers. Somehow, impossibly, things had gotten worse.

Chapter Seven

It was Claudia Jean, so of course it was elegant, and extravagant, and exquisite. The hotel opened out onto the beach and in the warm air millions of tiny lights glittered like a dream against the water and the pale golden sand. Donna ghosted between the exclusive guests, watching their smiles and excitement as if through glass. She could see the party, but she couldn't share it; she was there, but this had no part of her.

In her mind's eye things were different, she could see an alternative life where she laughed with old friends and her hand was in Josh's as they stood close together and celebrated the happiness of two of the most wonderful people they knew. Someone would tease her about being next down the aisle, and Josh would play at looking horror struck and then smile that private smile she so loved and her heart would melt a little more and… She sighed; Burns had it right about best laid plans.

The beach was too beautiful - it reminded her too much of their hotel in the Bahamas. She swore she could smell the heady scent of vanilla flowers, and that made her think of the way they'd danced under the stars and how she'd thought it was the beginning of everything, but it had just been the start of the final chapter. So she left the beach and headed into the air-conditioned hotel. CJ and Danny were still welcoming their guests, and Donna stayed well clear. Her own brief encounter with CJ had been…awkward. After Donna had smiled her congratulations and hugged her friend, CJ had held her tight for a moment and whispered, "I'm going to be talking to you later."

Donna didn't doubt what it was about, although she doubted even CJ could solve this. Nothing was irreparable if you wanted it fixed; the problem was, Josh didn't. He'd made that clear. And she wasn't entirely sure that he was wrong. Maybe it wasn't meant to be; he clearly didn't trust her now, and she wondered if he ever had. Peacemaker Barbie… How could he ever trust someone he believed to be that stupid and superficial? How could he ever love someone he so despised? Maybe he never had. Maybe that was why he could sleep with Amy Gardner, just three months after their split. Three months!

Donna doubted she'd ever look at a man again. What would be the point? It had only ever been Josh, and if things hadn't worked with him then they wouldn't work with anyone. She'd loved him for a decade, and she loved him still.

It was her curse.

The tables were laid out in a large, low-ceilinged room and there were flowers everywhere. There was a plan somewhere, to tell you where to sit, but Donna hadn't consulted it yet; she didn't feel like making small-talk and was avoiding sitting down. A number of people had already taken their seats however, and it occurred to her that her uncharacteristic disorganization might trip her up if she ended up having to walk past Josh's table en route to her own, rather than being safely ensconced before he arrived.

If he was coming.

She hadn't seen him at the church, but the place had been huge and she hadn't been looking. Well, not intentionally. But every dark suit drew her eye, and at a wedding - even in Southern California - that was a lot of suits. She hadn't seen him however, and wondered if he'd made some excuse to duck out. It seemed mean, but then she remembered his lame avoidance of her family Christmas and told herself it was entirely too believable. She just hoped CJ wouldn't be hurt.

Deep in thought, Donna strolled among the tables, making her way toward the discretely placed seating plan. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of CJ strategically placing each and every guest, as if it were a state dinner; compared to those, this must have been a walk in the park. Her biggest fear was that CJ had tried to set her up with some young hopeful; the last thing she needed right now was-

Josh.

He was there, not ten feet away, on the other side of the table she was passing. He was standing chatting to someone Donna didn't recognize, a half-empty glass of champagne in his hand. Her feet, she slowly realized, had stopped walking and she was gawping like a teenager. She would have forced herself to carry on if she hadn't seen her name, written in elegant calligraphy, on a little place card on that very table.

Part of her wanted to run - she couldn't just sit down with Josh standing right there! But the other part, the adult part, refused to let her hide in the bathroom until he'd gone. They were both adults and they could both-

Without looking around, Josh put his glass down on the table. Opposite her. Directly opposite her. His hand moved to the back of the chair and she barely had time to think CJ, I'm going to kill you! before he turned around and began to sit down.

As soon as he saw her, he froze.

Dimly, she thought it must have been a comical scene, both of them stock still and staring like deer in headlights. But it wasn't remotely funny, it was exquisitely painful.

Swallowing dryly, she rested her hand on her own chair. "CJ's idea of a joke?"

"Or something," he said roughly. Then he frowned suddenly, yanked out the chair and sat down; daring her to be the one to move.

She pulled out her own chair, laid her purse on the table and sat down. The silk of her dress sighed softly as it moved, and she wondered if he'd noticed she'd worn red. Not that it had been for him. But it hadn't been for anyone else, either.

"When did you get in?" she asked, wishing she'd picked up another glass of champagne herself. This was definitely a night to be drunk. She turned her head and tried to find a waiter.

"Couple of hours ago," came the curt reply. "There was… I had a thing."

"Yes," she agreed, smiling as a waiter bearing a tray of drinks approached. "You always do."

"And you're as understanding as always."

Donna took the proffered champagne with a grateful smile. "Let's not do this here."

"I'm not doing anything." He downed the rest of his own drink and turned to stare doggedly across the filling room. After a moment his eyes dipped to the place name next to him and he grimaced. "Jim Kendall?"

AKA the most boring man in politics, but a lovely guy nonetheless. CJ had always had a soft spot for him; Josh loathed him. "Try and be an adult," Donna said mildly.

Josh didn't answer, but she could hear his foot waggling nervously under the table and wondered if he felt as trapped as she did. There was no escape; the plan had CJs finger prints all over it, but if she thought this would help build bridges she couldn't have been more wrong.

It didn't take long for the hall to fill, and soon they were surrounded by chatter and laughter. Donna talked amiably to everyone on the table - no one she knew well, no one she didn't know. She suspected CJ hadn't wanted anything to distract her from talking to Josh, but she'd miscalculated drastically. Jim Kendall might be a bore, but tonight Josh seemed captivated by every word that left his mouth - and there were a lot of words. He ignored Donna entirely, and she'd have been fine with that if only it hadn't hurt so much. Not talking to Josh was a little like not breathing; completely unnatural and liable to make her desperate. But she held her ground, she refused to make the first move again (would that be the second move?), and kept her eyes on her plate and her ears on the conversation around her. And so it was that she heard Jim Kendall say,

"Talking of innovative, I saw your exhibition, Donna."

Her head snapped up.

"Down at the Zenith Gallery?" Kendall continued. "It was very…very…" He turned to Josh. "What's the word?"

Josh froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. Despite herself, Donna found her gaze locked on him. It was the perfect moment to cut her down, to dash her self-esteem against the razor sharp rocks of his wit. He was perfectly capable, it was the kind of revenge he enjoyed the best. "I, uh," he said, stuffing his fork into his mouth, "I haven't seen it."

Kendall looked surprised. "You haven't? Man, Josh, it's amazing. But you've seen Donna's contribution of course? Very brave, I thought. Very brave. And eloquent. What you wrote? Very eloquent."

Donna felt herself grow a little taller. "Thank you," she said, genuinely touched. "I'm really- It means a lot to me that you saw it. That it…had an effect."

"Oh, it definitely did. To look at you now, when I remember that photograph and what you wrote about reshaping your life… What was the phrase you used? 'In the shadow of the tragedy?' Very moving, very moving…" He carried on, but Donna's attention had slipped to Josh who was doggedly eating, although she could practically see his ears twitching. His expression was indecipherable however. It almost looked…ashamed. But that couldn't be possible. It was Josh, after all. And she knew exactly what he thought about her attempts at peace and reconciliation n.

Not long after that little exchange, the music began in earnest. There was a band, and CJ and Danny started off the dancing in their own inimitable - and hilarious - way. Other couples followed, including Jim Kendall and his wife, leaving Donna and Josh alone in the crowded room. Much might have been said, but neither of them spoke and so the silence grew like a bubble beneath the music and laughter and cut them off from both.

Almost.

As she stared through the silence, out into the joyful party all around her, words began to penetrate Donna's mind. Words of a song she knew too well, words that had once delighted her and now cut to the quick. And suddenly she was back there, in his apartment, on a dark February evening not long after she'd moved in.

It was late, and she'd been exhausted. She'd just kicked off her shoes and sprawled on the sofa, trying to summon the energy to either find some dinner or call for take out. And then, like an unexpected squall, Josh had burst into the apartment, alight with something that made his eyes shine.

"You're here!" he'd grinned. "Are you tired? Doesn't matter. You have to hear this. It's been running through my head all day, I swear, it's been driving me insane!" He'd grinned again, as if the prospect of this kind of insanity was very welcome. Checking his pockets, he'd pulled out a CD and then stabbed a finger at his stereo and discarded the disk already inside. "Okay, okay," he'd said, pushing shut the drawer and turning to her. "You have to listen to this."

Despite her fatigue, Donna couldn't help but smile. "You still have your coat on," she'd said as the music started.

"Shhh…" But he'd shrugged out of his coat, and held out his hand to her. "Come here, listen. It's perfect. This is perfect…"

And so they'd danced, slowly, sweetly to the music he'd found. And it had been perfect, and the words had made her cry and he'd held her so tight and told her they were all true, that they were meant for her - that they must have been written for him to say to her. And although they weren't the type to have a song, it had become their song and whenever she'd missed him, she'd listened to it and heard his voice in the voice of the singer and closed her eyes and…

A tear escaped, running hotly down her cheek. She didn't want to draw attention by swiping it away, so she sat very still and let the words drift through her. Empty now, their promise already broken, they still had power. And as she listened to them it was hard to remember why she'd called Colin that night, why she hadn't gone into the office to find Josh instead. It was hard to remember why she'd ever thought he didn't trust her, or love her, when she could remember him murmuring those words in her ear… I am… I am… I am the luckiest…

And it was hard to remember why she didn't just reach over the table now, take his hand and lead him to the dance floor, hold him in her arms and- "Josh..."

But he was gone. His place at the table was empty and through her blurred vision Donna saw him pushing past a crowd of people to disappear through the wide doors leading onto the beach.

She almost knocked her chair over in her haste to follow, but had only taken two steps when a hand on her arm stopped her. "Leave him alone," a familiar, nasal voice said. "Haven't you done enough, already?"

Donna stared at Amy in shock. "What?"

"I said leave him alone." Amy dropped her hand from Donna's arm and peered at her over the rim of her wine glass. "Stop twisting the knife."

"I'm not, I'm- This is none of your business."

She shrugged, as if Donna's words didn't really matter. "Josh is a friend."

"A friend? Yeah. Don't think I don't know what you-"

"Oh, grow up. You don't know anything about me, Donna. You never did."

"I know enough."

"Really?" Amy took another sip of her wine. "Like how I don't 'get' Josh, because I don't understand why he walks so fast?" She smiled, wickedly. "I seemed to get him okay the other night."

Donna felt sick. Maybe it was the champagne, but the room was spinning and her throat was so tight she could barely force her furious words out. "You- I can't believe you'd-"

"And I can't believe you'd cheat on him!" There was fire in her dark eyes now, real spitting fire. "God, Donna. Josh and I went ten rounds every time, but I never did that."

"I didn't-"

"You don't like me," Amy said, turning away. "And I'm more than fine with that. But you don't get to judge me, not when you're the one who broke his heart." She threw a disdainful glance over her shoulder. "Leave him alone, Donna. He's a good man, he deserves better."

With that she left, making her way elegantly through the guests until she reached the door to the beach and was swallowed by the twinkling darkness beyond.

Donna could only watch; movement and thought were beyond her and the only sounds in her head were Amy's words, endlessly repeating.

You're the one who broke his heart. You're the one…

The air felt unnaturally warm and humid for late spring. And it was weird being on the beach in a suit; Josh swore he could already feel sand creeping into his socks. He didn't really like beaches. Not unless…

His eyes shut in a grimace; the last time he'd stood on a beach had been in some far off life that might once have been his but would never be again. How had he not known at the time it was all to be so fleeting? Although perhaps he had; he'd learned early that happiness was simply a transient state.

Tipping his head back, Josh looked for stars but the sky glowed a dyspeptic orange and there were none to be seen. For some reason he found himself missing the snapping cold of his childhood backyard and those winter nights when he'd try to count all the stars in the sky, just to prove it could be done. Seemed he'd had a taste for beating the odds even back then…

"I'd offer you a penny for them, but I don't have any change." The warm, rich voice behind him made him smile.

"Shouldn't you be inside, dancing with your husband?" he said as he turned around.

CJ shrugged, beautiful in her ivory dress, even with the hem lifted and her shoes in one hand. "He's not as young as he looks, he needs to save his energy."

Taking a step closer, Josh leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I'm really happy for you," he said. "You look amazing."

Her smile was broad and open. "Thank you. You're very sweet." She cocked her head. "You're also very stupid."

"Thanks."

"Sam gave me some garbled message about Donna and the New York Sun, but he can barely tie his own shoelaces so I thought I'd better ask you. Because, from what I could make out, Sam seemed to be saying that you think Donna cheated on you. Which, obviously, is ridiculous."

"CJ…" It was, quite literally, the last thing he wanted to talk about. In fact, judging by the humiliating lump in his throat, talking about it simply wasn't going to happen.

CJ's eyes narrowed. "Tell me it's not true."

He looked away, because there was a hot prickling sensation behind his eyes that had become all too familiar in the past weeks. "Can we not-?"

"Joshua…" CJ's warm hand squeezed his arm. "I don't know what you saw in the paper but, trust me, newspapers lie. I spent eight years dealing with these people. I'm married to the worst of them. Whatever you saw… It wasn't what you think it is."

"She moved out," he said in a voice that wavered awkwardly. He cleared his throat and silently cursed himself. "You should be talking to her."

"I tried," CJ said. "She's already left."

There was no reason why that should make his heart sink, yet it did. Just that little bit further, that little bit closer to rock bottom. He sucked in a deep breath. "It was…Colin Ayres. The guy from Gaza? The IRA guy."

CJ shook her head. "I can't believe… Donna was nuts about you from day one. Everyone knew it."

He gave her a puzzled look.

"Well, everyone except you, of course. What the hell did you do to make her leave?"

Something that was almost a laugh escaped from his throat. "She thinks I forgot Valentine's Day."

CJ cast him a skeptical look. "Okay, that's bullshit."

"It's what she said."

"She did not."

"Were you there?"

"She did not leave the man to whom she's been utterly devoted for ten years because he forgot Valentine's Day! Especially, idiot boy, when that man is you, and she knows better than anyone that you can't find your way to the bathroom without asking her to print off directions."

His eyebrows rose. "Your…support is overwhelming."

"If I hadn't had my nails done this morning, I'd smack you."

"Have you considered a career in marriage counseling? Because, I'm serious, with this technique-"

"Josh," CJ interrupted, "listen to me." She tugged him around until he was face to face with her. "I don't know what happened, of course I don't, but I know this; Donna loves you."

He shook his head, the words too painful to hear. "Don't-"

"She loves you, Josh. It's a universal constant. But what I've never been quite so sure about - what I've sometimes doubted - was whether you loved her quite as much."

The prickling sensation behind his eyes changed into a liquid heat, and all he could do was stare at her because he didn't trust his voice. How can she doubt that? Can't she see I'm dying without her?

CJ softened, her lips pressing into an emotional smile as she squeezed his arm again. "Then take some advice from an old married woman," she said. "Sort out this mess, Josh, or you'll spend the rest of your life regretting it."

He forced a watery laugh. "Are you going to tell me to talk to her? "

"Do a tap dance, if it works. But for once in your life, do something."

And perhaps it was the confidence and warmth in CJ's eyes, or the strength of her hand on his arm, but for the first time since Donna had walked out of his life, Josh felt a beat of hope. "Yeah," he said, still husky. "Maybe I will. Maybe I will do something."

The question was, what?

It was a rainy Friday night back in DC, a far cry from the sunny shores of Los Angeles. Shaking out her umbrella, Donna stepped into the quiet gallery and looked around. There was no one there, which wasn't a surprise given the time. They'd be closed in half an hour anyway, and the peace was welcome.

Walking slowly through the room, she took a moment to glance around at the black and white photos decking the walls; faces of pain and suffering accompanied by words of hope and forgiveness. It was powerful, whatever Josh might think, and she was proud of her involvement. The many notes and comments she'd received from visitors, all assiduously passed on by Colin, felt like a balm spreading over the old wounds and she began to think that, perhaps, the scars on her leg and her chest hadn't been for nothing. If one person could be inspired to reject hatred and embrace tolerance…

She sighed, stopping in front of her own photograph, now as familiar as her reflection. The SUV was upside down, her head squashed at an awkward angle against the ceiling, blood trickling from the gash on her temple. It hardly looked like her, she thought; it was difficult to imagine that it had been her. And yet if she lifted her fingers to her forehead, beneath her hair, she could feel the raised line of the scar the wound had left behind.

So many scars, and the deepest not even visible. Sometimes she wondered if all her troubles were anchored to Gaza. Josh's inability to trust, or even respect her stemmed from the way she'd left her job, and that, she knew, had been a direct result of this - of her sense of suffocation in an old world that couldn't adapt to the changes happening inside of her. And perhaps her own frustration with Josh had stemmed from his inability to see how she'd changed, or to listen when she told him what she needed. All of it, she thought, came back to this cataclysm.

Even Colin. If it hadn't been for the bombing he wouldn't have sought her out for this exhibition, they'd never have had that dinner, the photograph would never have been taken…

Stupid. Stupid thinking. If it hadn't been for Gaza, she'd probably have Margaret's job right now and Josh would still be sleeping with Amy Gardner. Some things never changed.

Turning on her heel, Donna walked smartly across the gallery toward the small white door that almost blended into the wall. She pushed it open and was greeted by a wide grin from Colin Ayres.

"Hello there," he said, getting up from behind the small desk. "Thanks for coming down."

"It's not a problem. What's so urgent?"

His grin grew wider still. "Good news, Donna Moss." Picking up a letter, he waved it under her nose. "The exhibition is going to London."

"Really?" She couldn't help but smile herself. "Where?"

"A visiting exhibit at the National Gallery."

Her eyes widened. "Wow."

"I know," he beamed. "This is high profile stuff; there's even talk of some exposure on the BBC. An interview with me, or something."

Despite herself, Donna couldn't silence Josh's voice in her head. It won't change anything. Except Colin Ayres bank balance. "That's nice," she said. "I mean, it's good."

Colin nodded, coming out from behind the desk. "And I was thinking… Would it be possible? I mean, could you find the time to perhaps come over to London for a day or two? I know the media would be interested in you, given your position. I think it would be really great for our profile if we set up some interviews for you."

"Our profile?"

"Of the exhibition," he corrected. "I mean the profile of the exhibition - bring in more people, spread the word."

Donna shook her head. "I don't know. Mrs. Santos is pretty busy the next few months, I'm not sure I'd be able to get away."

"We'll talk about it," Colin insisted, flashing his most charming smile. "We'll talk about it over a celebratory bottle of champagne. How about that, eh? Tonight. I just have a couple of calls to return, then we'll go out and drink to our success."

"I don't know…"

"Ah, come on," he chided. "The night is yet young, and we're talking about the big time here, Donna. This is a big thing, trust me. It's a big thing."

"For the exhibition?" she asked. "Or for you?"

His smile became puzzled. "For both. This is my job, Donna. My career. It's…The higher my profile, the higher the profile of the message. It's not about ego."

"No," she nodded, suddenly awkward at channeling Josh's dour message. "I know. I didn't mean-" She smiled. "Let's go get that drink."

"Okay." His smile returned. "I just have a couple of calls to make. I'll be about ten minutes, okay?"

She nodded. "I'll be in the gallery."

Closing the office door behind her, Donna looked around and found a seat against one of the walls. She sat, resting her head against the cold stone, and let her mind drift. London? Interviews? Press interviews about her experiences?

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.

Josh's words were as fresh as the day he'd spoken them, and the killer was that she knew he was right. She hadn't gone into this for publicity; it was the last thing she wanted. The story wasn't about her anyway, it was about the whole screwed up situation and the hope for some tolerance and understanding. But Josh had been right about one thing - Mrs. Santos and the President came first. She'd just have to make Colin understand why she couldn't parade herself in front of the press.

From beyond the gallery she heard the outside door open. Checking her watch she saw that there were still a few minutes before they closed, but she was a little uncomfortable with the idea of sitting there while random strangers studied her picture and read her intimate thoughts. She rose to her feet, about to retreat back into the office, when she saw a familiar man walk into the gallery.

Her first thought was that it was strange that Mike, one of Josh's security detail, would be interested in the exhibition. But then she saw his earpiece, noted the way he scanned the room, and realized with a heart-stopping lurch that he was on duty. Shock kept her rooted to the spot as Mike turned, agonizingly slowly, in her direction; he barely batted an eyelid when he noticed her, although she thought she detected a slight moment of surprise. She offered a faint smile and then, because it just felt right, she shook her head slightly in a gentle warning. Mike acknowledged the request with a barely-there nod before he stepped back outside.

A moment later Josh appeared in the doorway, oblivious to her presence. His hair was damp from the rain, droplets of water glistening on his coat and on the bag slung over his shoulder. He hesitated as he entered, but he didn't spot her standing breathlessly in the shadows. Donna watched as he turned his head, looking at the pictures on the wall, until he stopped dead - and she knew he'd found hers. He didn't move right away, but she had a good view of his face and was startled to see the flinch in his eyes. Hands digging into his pockets, he appeared to grit his teeth before walking resolutely across the room to stand in front of her photograph.

Quietly, unobtrusively, Donna moved around the edge of the gallery until she could see his face again. He was staring at the picture intently, motionless. After a while his head dropped and he scrubbed a hand across his face and through his hair. Then, ignoring the photo, he moved closer to read what she'd written.

Donna felt her pulse quicken. Until that moment she hadn't realized how much she'd wanted him to read her words. She hadn't realized that she'd written every single one with him in mind, to try and explain it all to him. And now she found herself praying that he understood.

He didn't move for a long time. He must have read it several times, she figured, because Josh read fast. And the expression on his face… Confusion? Surprise? Pain? All of them, perhaps. And more. It was too hard to tell, because he was holding everything back. With Mike there, and in such a public space, he'd never let his guard down. But she knew him better than anyone, and she could see it in his eyes. His expressive, beautiful eyes…

Involuntarily, Donna took a step forward and her heel scuffed on the wooden floor, sending echoes dancing around the gallery. Josh turned and for an instant she saw utter shock in his face, before he scrambled to hide it. "What the-?"

"Hey," she smiled feebly.

"Do you-? Do you live here now?"

She laughed awkwardly. "No, I was just… Some business."

"Oh."

The silence rang loud as bells in the empty room until, at length, Josh cleared his throat. "I, uh, was just… I thought I should- I mean, not 'should'… I wanted to see…you know…the thing."

Donna found herself smiling at his awkwardness, her heart thundering in her chest and threatening to overturn all her composure. "Did you like it?"

"Like it?" He looked incredulous. "It's a picture of you-" He waved, but didn't look, at the photograph. "It's you… No. I didn't like it. But, uh, what you wrote…"

"I meant that. I meant what I wrote."

He looked at her and she realized it was the first time he'd met her eyes in weeks. "It was, um, very…" His gaze darted to Mike, determinedly unobservant at the doorway. "I didn't know… You never said anything about…" For a moment he closed his eyes, as if screwing up his courage, and then very softly he said, "Donna, I wish I-"

"Hey, Donna, you ready?" Colin Ayres' voice ricocheted around the gallery and Josh started as if he'd been shot. "Sorry that took so long, I was-"

He stopped when he saw Josh and trailed to a halt at Donna's side. "Well, hello," he said carefully.

Josh's face was studiously blank, even his eyes had lost all expression. "Ayres," he said.

"I didn't think we'd see you down here," Colin said. "I heard you didn't approve."

"I don't," Josh replied, a snide smile breaking his blank expression. "So…how's the search for world peace going? Had any luck? Should we expect universal love to break out at any moment?"

Colin shrugged. "You know, where I come from, we call that the lowest form of wit."

"Where you come from, you call petrol bombs political debate."

"Josh…" Donna protested, taking a step forward.

She was stopped by Colin taking her hand. "It's okay," he said, wrapping his fingers around hers. "Don't worry about it."

Josh's attention slipped, his gaze dropping to their joined hands and moving swiftly away. Donna felt sick, cringed at Colin's touch, and tugged her hand free. She wanted to say something, but didn't know what. Every avenue of conversation was blocked; with both of them there, and Mike unobtrusively not-watching, it seemed impossible to speak at all. Even if she'd known what to say.

After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, Josh turned away. "I have to go," he said coldly. "I'll see you later."

No! Donna stepped forward, as if to chase after him, but indecision stopped her and all she managed to do was half-heartedly call his name.

He turned and glared. "What?"

"I… Thank you. For coming. It means a lot."

The cynical smile that curved his lips was sharp as a blade, and directed entirely inward. "Yeah, I'm sure it does." He looked away and she could see him swallowing hard, could see thoughts chasing through his mind. When he turned back toward her, his expression was heated. "You, uh, you left a lot of stuff at my place," he said. "If you want-" His voice cracked a little, he cleared his throat and when he spoke again there was more anger than anything else. "I'm in meetings all weekend, so if you want to come get it that would be a good time."

It hit like a slap and sent the blood buzzing through her ears. "Okay," she heard herself say.

Josh nodded, scowling at nothing and everything. "Just, you know, let yourself in. I won't be there."

"Okay…" It was barely a whisper; she felt as insubstantial as a ghost.

And then he turned and strode out of the gallery, Mike falling in behind him as he left.

Into the aching silence, Colin said, "He's a son-of-a-bitch, treating you like that in front of people." His hand landed heavily on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

No, she wanted to sob. No. Oh God no… But the words weren't there; her broken heart had robbed her of the power of speech.

Josh had had a plan. Not much of a plan, admittedly, but a start. It had involved going down to the damn gallery to see the exhibit so that he could then go see her to tell her how much he'd liked it and then - perhaps - they'd have something to talk about.

As plans went, he thought in retrospect, it had been pretty lame. And it had gone wrong right from the start. First off, the exhibit had taken him by surprise and had actually been moving, and poignant, and not the voyeuristic self-indulgence he'd anticipated. More than that, what Donna had written had melted his heart all over again, and stirred into it a good dollop of self-recrimination. Of all people, he shouldn't have been surprised by what he read. He should have known all of it, he should have been with her through all of it. And he hadn't.

Then, of course, he hadn't in a million years expected Donna to actually be at the gallery. And seeing her eager for his approval, her beautiful, familiar face lighting up with a nervous smile, had been enough to make him want to forgive her anything. And he'd been about to throw himself at her feet when that bastard Ayres had turned up to claim her for himself.

Lying in bed, ignoring the clock ticking relentlessly onward, Josh tried not to remember the way they'd held hands, the way Donna had leaped to his defense. It made him sick with envy, wild with jealousy, and catatonic with despair. Do something, CJ had said, but her hopes had been groundless. Donna was with Ayres, of course she was. He'd known it all along, but for a day or two he'd allowed CJ's faith to offer false hope.

But the truth was, why shouldn't she be with Ayres? What claim did Josh have on her? For all that he felt wounded by her betrayal, he was beginning to believe that he'd betrayed her first. Not with another woman, but with neglect. He couldn't comprehend how he hadn't known how she'd felt, how the bombing had shattered her life, how she'd felt trapped in a world that didn't understand her. It was incomprehensible that he could have been part of that world, that he could have failed her so badly when she'd always - without exception - been there for him.

The thought brought treacherous tears to his eyes, and he only let them slide out because he was alone in bed and there was no one to see. His anger had been misplaced, as always. He'd blamed her for his own mistakes, trampled on her sweet nature with his unfeeling hobnail boots. How was it any surprise that she'd left him for a man who at least pretended to understand her?

He sniffed and wiped at his face. "You're pathetic," he told himself, too lethargic to even turn his head and look at the clock. But Vinick would be waiting in his office at ten, and if Josh was late he'd be staked out for the vultures. Life went on, so they said. Only it wasn't life, it was something else. It was existence. Work. Work went on. There was always work…

Rolling over he studied the clock, surprised that it was only seven. He felt like he'd been awake for hours, and perhaps he had. Perhaps he hadn't slept at all. It didn't really matter. It wasn't as if a good night's sleep would have changed anything.

Hauling himself out of bed, Josh traipsed into the bathroom and tried not to feel emotional at the sight of Donna's bathrobe still hanging behind the door. It would be gone soon enough; perhaps today, when he got home from work, all evidence of her would be gone from his apartment.

The thought was crushing. He rested his head against the bathroom mirror and forced himself to keep going. Just get through the morning, the morning meeting. Just keep going. But he seemed to have forgotten the point of it all. Or maybe he just didn't care anymore.

Mechanically, he showered and shaved. He dressed, but couldn't face CNN so made coffee in silence. Coffee for one. Even that hurt; it was as if she'd peeled off his skin, and now everything he touched was its own special kind of agony. He stood in the kitchen and sipped at the tasteless coffee, staring out the window and seeing nothing. Was this the rest of his life? Was this how he was going to-

A key turned in the lock, and he almost spilled his coffee in shock as he spun around to see Donna pushing open the front door.

She stared at him in equal horror. "I thought- I'm sorry, you said you'd be out."

"I-" Oh God, this was it. This was it. "It's seven thirty," he said weakly.

"Too early?"

"It…doesn't matter. It…" She was leaving him. In one hand she carried a cheap, empty suitcase and in the other a couple of nested cardboard boxes. All that was left of his life, he thought, would be taken away inside them. "You might as well…"

She nodded, no trace of a smile on her pale face. Her eyes seemed as tired as his own, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that might have been unattractive if she hadn't been so utterly beautiful. "I can…maybe I should start in the bedroom, if you're…?"

Mutely he nodded.

"Okay." Awkwardly she maneuvered the case and boxes into the bedroom, and he would probably have helped her but for the fact he couldn't move from the spot. He heard the case hit the floor, and a moment later the door swung shut and he could hear no more. But his imagination was active; he saw her dragging out her clothes, folding them neatly into the case. He wondered if she'd take the picture of them that she'd kept by the bed, the one they'd taken during that dreamlike week in the Bahamas. He hadn't moved it and he doubted she'd want it; he hoped she left it. There'd be another one by her bed now, he supposed. One of her and-

He dashed a surreptitious hand over his eyes and tipped the rest of his coffee into the sink. The last thing he was going to do was fall apart here; in fact, the last thing he was going to do was stay to watch this final evisceration of his happiness. With a determination that bordered on panic he put on his shoes and jacket, stuffed every file he could find into his bag, and eventually located his car keys. He could have been out the door in half a minute, but hesitated on the threshold.

If he left it like this, the next time he saw her would be in a meeting and all he'd be able to think about was this moment. Better, he figured, to speak now. Say something, at least, not just run out like the coward he was. Swinging his bag over his shoulder, and gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest, he forced himself to walk over to the bedroom and open the door. He knew exactly what he'd say - I'm leaving now. Just put the key on the table when you're done. Hope it doesn't take you too long - but he didn't manage to start speaking before he stopped dead.

Donna was sitting on the bed. Beside her was her heavy winter coat, and in her hand was a flutter of paper. He knew exactly what it was. She had one of his pillows clutched to her chest, her face buried in it, and she was sobbing like there was no tomorrow.

In the whole time they'd known each other, he'd never seen her cry like this. He'd rarely seen her cry at all, but never like this. The impact was devastating and he gripped the door until his fingers turned white to keep from running to her side. He was short of breath and without a word in his head, but he had to do something.

"Donna…?" Her name came out harsh and rasping, and she jerked her head up in surprise.

"Oh…" was all she could muster, turning away and wiping a hand over her face.

"I'm… I was just…" Leaving? "I was going to, uh, make some fresh coffee. Do you…? Would you like one?"

She nodded, but kept her face averted as she pulled a wad of Kleenex from her pocket.

"Okay," he said, backing out of the room. "I'll just, you know, do that."

He managed to close the door before he sank back against the wall and let out a shaky breath. Never, in his darkest imaginings, had he thought it would be this bad.

Donna's hands were trembling and the tears wouldn't stop. They just would not stop. The moment she'd walked into the apartment and seen him standing there in his socks, she'd known she wouldn't be able to do this. She'd hoped the bedroom would steel her to it, that some evidence of Amy would harden her heart, but there was none. Instead, it was exactly - exactly - as she'd left it. He'd moved nothing; even her old sweatshirt was still strewn on the chair by the bed.

Not knowing where to start, she'd opened her closet door and seen all her things hanging there. And as if to taunt her - as if to expose her vanity and weakness - fate had made her reach for the coat she hadn't worn since the dog days of winter. She'd pulled it down, and out of habit checked the pockets.

Her fingers had found something immediately; a letter? She'd pulled it out and, for a moment, her heart had stopped beating. The envelope was red, and on the front, in Josh's writing, was her name with a little heart drawn underneath.

She'd felt sick and a little faint, her knees collapsing beneath her as she'd sunk onto the bed and opened the envelope with trembling hands. She'd known what was inside, she'd known it the moment she'd seen it, and it had horrified her. Numbly she'd taken in the picture on the card - hearts, of course - and opened it up, forcing herself to read the words inside.

I probably don't always show it, but never doubt that I know it; 'I am the luckiest'.

Yours always,

Joshua

PS Dinner at Citronelle on Saturday. I'm thinking the red dress…

And that was when the floodgates had opened. Anger, regret, misery - they all flooded out. Her own pettiness lay exposed and vile; that she could have hurt him over something this stupid, that she could have called Colin that night because she thought Josh had forgotten something as insipid and inconsequential as Valentine's Day. What was it anyway? Nothing but an excuse for the greetings card industry to make a fortune out of tat and sentimentality. And she'd used that - used his apparent forgetfulness of that tackiest of all holidays - to blame him for their problems, and to go running to Colin and-

And he hadn't even forgotten. He hadn't forgotten, she'd just worn the wrong stupid coat. A sob escaped, and afraid he'd hear she'd reached for a pillow to stifle the sound. But that had only made it worse, because it smelled like him and everything she'd lost because of her own, stupid, stupid-

"Donna…?"

She jerked her head up, glimpsed him staring at her in astonishment, and turned hurriedly away. "Oh…" Oh God.

"I'm… I was just…" He didn't seem to know what to say. "I was going to, uh, make some fresh coffee. Do you…? Would you like one?"

She nodded, another wave of tears looming at the kindness in his voice, so little did she deserve it. She tugged at the Kleenex she'd stuffed into her pockets in anticipation of her tears. She doubted she'd brought enough, as it turned out.

"Okay," Josh said quietly. "I'll just, you know, do that." And then he was gone, and she was alone again and the tears wouldn't let up.

At last, after who knew how long, she managed to get herself under control. She went to the mirror and wiped at her streaked, puffy face with a tissue but couldn't make much of an improvement. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered anymore.

Sniffing and wiping her nose one last time, she headed for the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Josh was in the kitchen, pacing. He stopped when he saw her and offered a hesitant smile. "I gave you extra cream," he said. "You know. Just because."

Because she liked extra cream as a treat. Tears threatened again and she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thanks." He'd left her mug on the counter and as she moved to pick it up he drew closer and started fiddling with the coffee machine.

"Are you…?" He cleared his throat. "Are you okay?"

She felt a bizarre urge to laugh. "No." Taking a sip of coffee to steady herself, she said, "I'm sorry. This is- It's harder than I thought."

Out the corner of her eye, she could see Josh frown. His fingers tapped lightly on the counter for a long moment, and then in a quiet voice he said, "I thought this was what you wanted."

"No."

His frown deepened and he turned his head to look at her. "I thought you and Colin-?"

"There is no me and Colin. There never was. You're the only one I-" She tried to smile, but it turned into a hoarse whisper. "This is the last thing I want to do."

"Then don't." His voice was urgent, his whole body tense as he turned to stare down at the counter again. "Just…don't."

"Don't?"

"Don't…go. Don't leave. Don't leave me." He looked startled, almost terrified, but it didn't stop him. "God, Donna, just don't leave."

"But I thought…?" Her voice gave way, she could hardly speak around the tears. "I thought you wanted me to."

"What…?" The word was little more than an incredulous breath. "How could you think that?"

"Because you…" She faltered. "You didn't come home, you wouldn't come home, Josh. You were so angry and I thought… I thought you must hate me, and I didn't know… I didn't know how to…to…" She lost it at the end, her words drowned by another flood of tears as she hung her head and wiped at her eyes. All she could hear were her own jagged breaths and the slow drip, drip of the coffee percolator. Josh was still and silent next to her; she desperately wanted to look up at him, to see his face, but she couldn't lift her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Josh."

"Donna…" He said her name like it was an ache, like he could hardly bear to utter the word.

She looked up, at last. "If I hurt you…"

"If?"

The pain in his eyes was too much and she crumpled beneath the weight of her guilt. Her hands covered her face, trying vainly to stifle the guttural sobs threatening to tear her apart. Perhaps that's why she didn't know he'd moved until she felt herself gathered into his arms, felt his solid warmth against her cold skin, felt herself held and comforted and safe.

It was like a miracle; like coming home on a bitter winter's night, like a thousand Christmas mornings all rolled into one. It was forgiveness, and bliss, and joy and too much, too much of everything.

He was stroking her hair, murmuring soft, sweet words that pierced her soul, and all she could do was throw her arms around his neck and cling to him, as though he alone kept her from the abyss. And perhaps he did. Perhaps he really did… But then, as she hugged him tight, Josh abruptly buried his face against her neck. She felt his shoulders start to shake, heard his breathing stagger until it was ragged, and her soaring heart ached with an exquisite pain.

"I love you," she whispered, over and over, running comforting fingers through his hair. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

He didn't answer, perhaps he couldn't, and so she did what seemed best. Her lips found his neck, his face, his mouth and she kissed him, wanting to kiss away all the hurt and misunderstanding, all her stupid vanities, all his pig-headed stubbornness. And he responded like he always did, with a sweet passion, a tenderness that could leave her spinning, and-

Suddenly his hands were on her shoulders, gently pushing himself away from her. "Wait," he said brokenly. "Stop."

She blinked, breathless and confused. "Josh…?"

"Wait," he said, taking a step back and dropping a hand from her shoulder to wipe across his face, steadying himself. "We can't- Don't you see? This is what we always do."

"What?" She didn't understand. Her heart had yearned for this for months, her body craved his touch - craved the closeness that only love making could bring. Craved him. "What do we always do?"

"This…" He had one hand on her shoulder, as if to keep her at arms length. "Sex."

"Josh… I don't know what you're talking about. Please…"

"No." He took another step back, losing touch with her completely. "No, Donna. Wait. Let me think."

She was shaking with emotion, so wild she felt possessed. "Please…" she begged. "Whatever this is, can't it-?"

"We have to talk," he blurted suddenly. "We have to talk about everything."

"Now?"

"Yes. Right now. Because this is what we always do. We fight, and then we have incredible sex, and we never talk. And I used to think that was okay, because I thought we understood each other, but we don't. We really don't, because we never talk. And if we don't talk now, we'll just go through this whole nightmare again. Don't you see?"

She didn't. What she saw was Josh, almost on the other side of the kitchen now, with his shirt un-tucked and his hair chaotic, and all she wanted was to feel the strength of his arms around her, feel the warmth of his body next to hers, and-

"I'm serious," he said. "When I read- God, Donna, when I read your testimony about Gaza…? I didn't recognize any of it. Because you never told me, and I never asked. And we never talked. We've never- In the whole history of our relationship we've never actually talked about anything important."

"That's not true…"

"It is!" he insisted. "Think about it, Donna. We never talked about us, about either of us."

"I don't want-" The prospect was terrifying. "I don't think we need to… I mean, talk about what?"

"I don't know," he said. "Anything! Everything. Like, um, okay. Like…" He was pacing the kitchen now, as if it was his office, "Like - why did you leave?"

"Leave?"

"The White House."

No, no, no… She swallowed, and shook her head. "Josh-"

"I'm serious." He crossed the kitchen toward her, and perhaps he saw the disquiet in her face because he reached out a hand to touch her cheek. "It's okay. It won't change anything. It's just talking, just…" He laughed self-consciously. "It's about 'being heard'. For both of us. I think it'll be good."

Her stomach twisted queasily. "What if you don't like what you hear?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Josh…"

"I'll still love you."

There was a long pause, filled only with the intense look they shared. When she spoke, she said, "Do you? Still love me?"

"God, yes." He meant it; there was nothing but honesty in his eyes.

It took a couple of attempts for Donna to swallow the lump in her throat; his sincerity touched her soul, touched her as deeply as the prospect of raking over so many painful feelings terrified her. But she trusted Josh, and if this was what he wanted…

"Okay," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the sofa. "Why did I leave the White House?"

"Me," he said, following her. "I mean, it was really me you were leaving."

She sat and tugged him down next to her. Keeping hold of his hand, she squeezed it tight but didn't look at him as she said, "I left because I hated you."

There was a pause. "Okay," he sighed. "That's a start."

It was almost nine o'clock on the first Saturday morning Sam Seaborn had taken off in a month. Laura had gone for a run, and he was just considering the possibility of getting out of bed when his cell rang.

With a sigh he rolled over and flipped open his phone. "You gave me the day off."

"Something's happened."

Sam was bolt upright in the space between two heartbeats. "What kind of something?"

"It's okay, it's not World War Three or anything." Josh paused, and Sam felt his heart rate begin to slow. Then, in a slightly disbelieving voice, and quietly, as if trying not to be heard, Josh said, "Donna's here."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"In your apartment?"

"Yes."

"And you're calling me because her company is tedious?"

"What? No- No, it's…"

Sam smiled, but did his best to keep it out of his voice. "You realize this is the first Saturday I've had off in weeks, right?"

"I do," Josh admitted. "But here's the thing…" His voice dropped and Sam had the distinct impression he was hiding in the bathroom to make the call. "We're doing this talking thing, and it's taking forever. Not that it's a bad thing, it's actually… It's quite amazing." He laughed slightly, and Sam's smile broadened. "Uh, anyway, I have a meeting with Vinick and he'll flay me alive if I cancel."

"He can do that?"

"He's Arnie Vinick - he can probably walk on water."

"I'm not sure those two things are synonymous."

"Sam-"

"The meeting's about the OSAC Annual Briefing, it's at ten o'clock in his office, and I'll be there."

A little breath of relief drifted down the line. "Thank you. Thank you, I just… I couldn't…" Josh sighed, his tone suddenly confessional. "Sam, I don't think I could have taken that meeting."

Sam flopped back on the bed. "You, my friend, are suffering from shifting priorities."

"Is it fatal?" There was humor in his voice, but it was shaky.

"You just have to go with it," Sam advised, "let it take you where it will."

There was a pause. "This has happened to you?"

"To me, CJ, Toby…"

"It's…terrifying. I mean, I knew I didn't have a life, and then I thought I did have a life, but it turned out it wasn't really a life, and then I-"

"Okay, you need to not freak out," Sam said, swinging his legs out of bed and getting up. "I'm pleased beyond measure that Donna is there with you, and I think you should be telling her this, not hiding in the bathroom calling me. Go talk to her, forget about work, and sort out your life."

"I'm not- How did you know I was in the bathroom?"

"The cameras."

There was a pause. "That's…a joke. Right?"

Sam smiled. "Call me tomorrow." He snapped shut his phone and had just tossed it onto the bed when he heard the front door open. He winced; this was going to be a hard one to explain. He hoped the romantic subplot might earn him points, but he doubted Laura was going to buy it.

She hated romances.

Dusk was fading into evening. Coffee, beer and the remains of take-out pizza littered the living room, and Josh's throat was raw from overuse. They'd been over everything, again and again, each time getting a little closer to the unspoken truths they both harbored. And still they were talking; the proverbial floodgates showed no sign of closing. "Wait!" Josh said, swallowing the last mouthful of pizza. "You're saying you'd have come back if I'd called?"

"What did you think?"

"Well, not that. Obviously."

She stared at him as if he were an idiot; he knew the look well. "I thought you didn't call just to be mean."

"Not…entirely. I mean, you're the one who left. I wasn't going to grovel. I couldn't let you stamp all over me with your stilettos…"

"I wouldn't have," she said quietly. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, Josh. I just wanted you to see me."

Her sober tone deflated him. "I saw you."

"Did you?"

"Yes. God, Donna…" The memory of that day dug into his chest with a sharp, hollow pain. Instinctively he shied away from it: from the memory, from talking about it, from laying it at her door. But Alisa's advice had settled somewhere deep and it must have taken root because Josh heard himself saying, "I didn't sleep for days. I felt sick. Angry. I couldn't believe-"

"Josh-"

"I couldn't believe you'd left me. I was in some kind of shock, some kind of-"

"Josh, please…"

Her voice was taut, tremulous. She wanted him to stop; she didn't want to hear it but he had to speak. He had to speak at last. "I needed you so much, Donna. I trusted you. I thought you felt the same, I thought-"

"I loved you!" Donna exclaimed suddenly. "How could you not have known that? How could you have been so blind, Josh? I'd loved you for years. Everyone knew it! I was this pathetic laughingstock people used to snigger at in the corridors - 'Poor Donna Moss, hopelessly in love with her boss. Man, he exploits her. Can't she see he's just using her? No promotion, no career development. She'll be following him around until she's sixty and he'll never notice her. Never once see-'"

"No one thought that," he objected. "No one laughed."

"They did!"

"Who? Some brainless intern with-"

"CJ!"

The name echoed in the sudden silence. "What?"

"CJ," Donna said bitterly. She sat on the edge of the sofa now, hunched over her knees. Trying to make herself disappear, perhaps. "CJ knew."

"She did…?" This didn't sound possible. "Did CJ… say something to you?"

Donna nodded. He could only see her face in profile, but her jaw was tight and her large eyes were glistening. Again. She was crying a decade's worth of tears today. "You remember that evening they simulated a biochemical attack?" she said in a whisper. "You were stuck in your office with Kate Harper?"

"Vaguely."

"It was right before I went to Gaza."

"Okay..." The word tightened a knot in his gut. "Yeah, I remember."

"She told me-" Donna's head dipped and she swiped at her eyes, struggling to keep her voice even. "CJ told me you'd sold me a bill of goods with the trip, that I'd bumped off one of the communications people. It was a make-work job, Josh."

"No. It absolutely was not that."

She skewered him with a look that demanded the truth. "Josh…"

"I just…" He crumpled under the intensity of her gaze. "I wanted to give you something. I wanted to make you feel useful."

After a pause she said, "I didn't want to feel useful, Josh. I wanted to be useful."

"I know. I know that now…"

She took a deep breath and turned away. "CJ told me that you were ruining my career, she said I had to get away from you. I had to do something with my life that didn't revolve around Josh Lyman." In a shaky voice she added, "So that's what I did."

It took a moment for him to process her meaning. "CJ?" he said at last. "CJ said that?"

Donna just nodded, too emotional to speak.

"She said I was ruining your career?"

"Something like that." It was a choking whisper. "She knew why I'd stayed in the job so long."

He felt suddenly dizzy, as if his heart had maybe stopped in shock. "Why- Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you?" Donna laughed. Or cried - he couldn't tell anymore. "How could I have told you? What could I have said?"

"That- That…"

"She was right, Josh. That was the point. She was just telling me what no one else had the guts to say."

The dizziness hadn't subsided; he was feeling nauseous now, too. "I wasn't ruining your career, I was-"

"No," she agreed, turning to face him at last. "No, I was doing that myself, Josh. I was staying in a job that was driving me insane with boredom because I couldn't bear-" She cut herself off, a thin-lipped smile failing to hide more tears. "I just- I didn't know how to be without you."

"But if you'd said something," he insisted, "if you'd told me why you were leaving…?"

This time she really laughed, albeit bleakly. "What would you have done? What would you have done if I'd stood in the middle of the bullpen and told you I was leaving because I was in love with you and it was making me insane?"

"I'd have… I'd have…" What?

"You'd have run a mile," she said. "You'd have totally freaked out."

Josh closed his eyes, but all he could see in the darkness was her face the day she left. Looking back now, he saw nothing but sadness and regret in her features and it was devastating. How could he have been so blind, to her feelings and his own? "I didn't know," he mumbled, in lame self-defense. "I didn't know how I felt. I'd been ignoring it for years, because- I don't know why. Because it seemed so complicated, probably. I tried not to feel it, not to think about it."

Donna was silent. After a while she said, "When you visited me in hospital? In Germany. Did you…?"

He looked up and found her eyes, wide with questions.

"Did you know then? Because for a while I thought… I mean, you stayed so long and you seemed… I thought, maybe you felt something then."

"Something?" He shook his head, struggling to get the words out. "I was terrified. I'd never been more terrified in my life."

Her brow creased. "But did you…? I mean, did you love me then?"

"Did I love you then?"

She nodded.

"Are you-? Are you serious?"

"No, Josh. I'm practicing my stand up routine."

"I spent a week praying to a God I don't even believe in, begging him to let you be okay. I think I even offered up the next election in exchange."

She smiled at that, a small, watery smile. "But you didn't say anything. I thought- When I got back, you just handed me a stack of files and that was it. I thought… I was hoping that you'd say something, or do something, or-"

"I gave you a pen!"

"Yes." She almost smiled. "Yes, you did."

"And…" He blew out a short breath. "And you were with Colin, so..."

She blinked. "I wasn't."

"He was at the hospital. He came all the way from Gaza. And you were …intimate."

"I was in traction!"

"You know what I mean." He paused and silence descended again. There was a question in the back of his mind that had been there for years, one he'd never asked because it seemed juvenile and irrelevant. Yet it had lingered there all these years and he figured it was now or never. "Did you…?" he began. "Did you sleep with him?"

Her eyes fluttered in a self-conscious little blink that he knew meant 'yes'. "In Gaza, one time," she said. There was a faint flush to her cheeks, but no shame. "Not since."

"A one night stand?"

She shrugged and looked away. "As it turned out." After a moment she added, "CJ suggested it…"

"She…suggested you sleep with Colin Ayres?"

"Yes, Josh, that's exactly what she suggested." Donna sighed. "With anyone who wasn't you."

"But you hadn't slept with me at all back then!"

Donna smiled that little smile again. "That was kind of the point. I was supposed to be moving on. Or something."

He sighed. "Her timing's possibly the worst in history."

"Really?" She eyed him dubiously. "You'd have said something, if Colin hadn't been on the scene?"

"Maybe. I brought you roses." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I'd have done if- When I got there, they were prepping you for surgery."

"I wish you had," she said softly. "I wish you'd said something."

"Me too… I nearly did, once," he remembered. "Later. When you were working for Russell."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? When?"

"You remember-? One night we were in the same hotel, our rooms were almost opposite."

"Yeah." She made a grim face. "I remember that - we rode up in the elevator together." Then she frowned. "You nearly said something then?"

"I was this close," he said. "I went over to knock on your door, and I… didn't. Knock."

A strange expression drifted across her face, he wasn't sure if it was disbelief or astonishment. "You were going to knock on my door? In Iowa? That night in Iowa?"

"This close," he repeated, his fingers an inch apart.

"Oh my God." One hand pressed over her mouth. "Josh…"

"What?"

She shook her head, battling tears again. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I- I didn't know what to say. I thought you hated me."

"No," she whispered. "I didn't, not then."

"So if I'd…?"

"Seeing you that night… It was so awkward, and I felt so sad. I think that night was the first time I'd ever looked back with…with regret. I hadn't let myself miss you, I'd tried to stay angry because that way it didn't hurt so much. But that night… You couldn't open your door and you were so flustered with the key card, and it was so much like it had been and it just hurt so much." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again she looked straight at him and said, "You have no idea how much I wanted you to knock on that door."

Josh let his head fall into his hands, mind spinning. How much pain could he have saved them both if he'd only been able to get over his fears, his ego - and his willful blindness to the truth? "I've been such an idiot."

And then, to the surprise of his suddenly thumping heart, he felt her hand on his back, rubbing gently. "We both have."

Her touch, her comfort… God, her forgiveness? "We never talked," he said quietly. "This whole time, we never talked about any of it."

"No. No we didn't."

"I wish I'd said something when you left. I wish I'd called. Toby kept telling me to call, and I was just so angry, and…and-"

"Hurt," she said, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder, the weight of her arm across his back. It felt so good to be close again. "You were hurt."

"So were you," he said, turning his head to look at her. "I should have known you wouldn't leave without good reason. I can't believe I just let you walk away."

She smiled slightly. "Twice."

"Yeah." He hung his head again. "I should have- Alisa was right, I should have tried to explain why I- Why this whole Gaza thing bothered me so much…"

After a moment, Donna said, "Who's Alisa?"

"She's…" He glanced at her out the corner of his eye. "She's my therapist."

Donna's surprise was evident, but well controlled. "Oh."

He sighed again and rubbed his hands over his face. "The project? The photos… Alisa said- She made me realize… The image of that SUV is burned into my brain, Donna; for weeks after, it was all I saw when I closed my eyes. It was all I dreamed about. Because we saw it on TV, Donna. I was staring at it on TV and I knew you were inside and Toby was on the phone to Andi and I thought you were dead and-"

"Josh…"

"- no one knew anything. I thought you were gone. I thought you were dead and it was my fault. It was my fault..."

Her hand on his shoulder started moving again, a reassuring massage across his back. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't…"

"Why not?" she pressed. "I had no idea, Josh. I thought you were just being- Well, you. You were so dismissive of the whole project, you said I was stupid and-"

"Don't..." His words were muffled through his hands, but he didn't want to look at her just then; he was afraid of the contempt he knew must be written across her face. "I was a jackass."

"Yes."

"I don't think you're stupid," he said, letting his hands drop and his elbows rest on his knees. He was staring at the floor, though, still not managing to meet her eyes. "I've never thought that, even when you knew nothing about politics. And now… You're at the top of the big league, Donna. You know you are."

She laughed a wry laugh. "That's the thing, Josh. I don't know that. When I look in the mirror I still see the stupid, naïve Donna Moss who dropped out to pay for her free-riding boyfriend to get through medical school. The Donna Moss who perjured herself. The Donna Moss who went to work for Bob Russell…"

"But Donna-"

"All I ever wanted was your respect, Josh. That's all. And when you demean me like that…"

"Demean you? It was Colin Ayres I-"

"You called me 'Peacemaker Barbie', Josh."

He felt queasy. "I said that?"

"In my office. Within earshot of my staff."

"God…" He closed his eyes, feeling the blood drain from his face. "You must hate me."

"I did then."

Forcing himself to look at her, Josh said, "I'm an idiot. There's no excuse. I was angry, I was upset and I just- I have so much respect for you, Donna. You amaze me. Everything about you. Your intelligence, your integrity, your compassion."

"Josh…"

"But those pictures? They made me sick. Looking at them. Looking at you, with your head all-? It makes me feel physically sick. And the idea that he could just stand there taking photos while I- All I wanted to do was rip the damn door off the SUV and haul you out, but I couldn't, because I wasn't there, and he was and he was just taking photos. He was taking goddamn photos, Donna!"

"Josh…"

His emotions were slipping through his grasp because he could feel hot, choking tears in the back of his throat and they weren't even stemming the flood of words. "I hated - hated! - the idea of that whole damn project, of using those pictures… God. But I didn't know how to tell you because…because…" His breath came short and sharp and he pressed his hands over his mouth, trying to remember why Alisa had said this would be a good idea. It felt terrifying.

"Why not?" She was bemused. "Why couldn't you tell me?"

"Because…" He blew out a deep breath and didn't look at her as he said, "Because I didn't want you to feel like you had to put me first - you know, take care of me again. I know how much that…bothers you."

There was a charged silence, and then, "What are you talking about?"

"You…" He glanced up. "You spent seven years chasing after me at work, supporting me, putting me first and I-"

"Josh, listen."

"I don't blame you for not wanting to-"

"Josh!" He stopped, swallowing the rest of his words. Donna was staring at him incredulously. "You flew halfway around the world and sat by my bedside for a week. Do you think I wouldn't do the same for you? And more?"

He stared, wordless; the only sound in his ears, the thudding of his heart.

"It's got nothing to do with finding your airplane tickets, or scheduling your meetings. I love you. Don't you understand that?" Her face softened and she reached for his hand. "I should have guessed. I should have thought about how this would affect you…"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Without me telling you?"

"I do know you, Josh. I just hadn't put it together before."

"Put what together…?"

"Rosslyn. That's what happened, isn't it?" She sighed, stroking her thumb over his hand. "After Gaza you had some kind of… I don't know. Relapse. Is that the right word? And then when I started working on the peace project it must have brought back…" She squeezed his hand and spoke his name on a regretful little breath, "Joshua."

"It's-" For some reason he wasn't expecting this, wasn't expecting to talk about it, wasn't expecting her to get to this so fast. But he wasn't afraid, either. "It's called a recurrence."

"You didn't tell me."

"No." He smiled at the inevitability of that. "You had enough to deal with."

"We'd have dealt with it better together."

Josh nodded. "If I'd said something…"

"Or if I had."

With a sigh he sank back into the sofa, bringing her with him. Her head snuggled against his chest, his cheek resting on the top of her head. She smelled wonderful; familiar, warm, adorable. Like home. His arms were around her and as he held her tight he felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him with irresistible force. So much emotion, so much talking… Suddenly he couldn't keep his eyes open.

Donna yawned. "I'm so tired…"

"It's not even ten," he said, peering at the clock in the kitchen.

"I didn't sleep last night," she sighed, drawing closer. "Thinking about today."

He tightened his hold on her. "Me neither." And it suddenly occurred to him that here they were, warm and at ease in each others arms. He wasn't entirely sure how they'd done it, but somehow - miraculously - they were together again. He kissed her soft hair. "I never imagined this…"

"You always did have a terrible imagination."

He smiled and yawned. "We should go to bed."

The words hung there and suddenly Josh was wide awake.

Donna thought there was something unbearably sweet about the way he stammered, "Uh, to sleep. I meant we should go to sleep…"

"Are you asking me to leave?" she asked, hiding a smile. He was fun to toy with at times.

"No! No, I'm absolutely definitely not suggesting that. At all." He grinned suddenly, that boyish grin that had melted her heart a decade ago. "The sofa's pretty comfortable though...."

Touché. Her smile escaped and to hide it she dropped her head against his chest again. Truth was, she felt exhausted. She'd been up for thirty-six hours, on the back end of a long week, and felt like she'd spent the whole day in tears. Or laughter. Both, at times. "Sleep sounds good," she said quietly, reaching across to hug him tight. "I don't think I've had a proper night's sleep since I've been at the motel."

He started slightly. "The…motel?"

Donna lifted her head, then sat up and yawned. "Where did you think I'd been staying?"

"I-" He looked startled, then grimaced. "I guess I… I'd just assumed you were at…Colin's."

Even after everything they'd talked about he had the power to astonish her. "You thought I was living with him? Why?"

"Because… I thought that's why you left. I thought that's where you'd- Wait. Wait a minute." He sat up. "You've been living in a motel?"

She shrugged. This time she was the one who looked away. "I didn't know where else to go, and… I just thought it would be for a few days."

"It must have cost you a fortune."

"They do a monthly rate."

"The press…"

"Don't know."

"But-"

"Josh?"

His mouth clamped shut. "Yeah. Sorry. Okay… Well, you're not going back to that seedy fleapit, so-"

"It's a Motel 6."

"I rest my case."

With a sigh, Donna got to her feet and held out her hand to him. "Come on, Romeo, take me to bed. You can fight the motel dragon in the morning."

He blinked at her. "I think I missed the bit where Romeo slayed a dragon."

"It was in the sequel."

He grinned again and took her hand, yawning as he stood up. "That was a big hit in Wisconsin, huh?"

"What's tragic is that you actually think you're funny."

As they headed toward the bedroom he hit the switch to turn off the lights. She'd seen him do it a hundred times - it was a completely unremarkable domestic moment, but it filled her with so much warmth… She stopped.

"Hey…" In the half-light she could only see the angles of his face, no details. "Okay?"

Donna nodded, sniffing away the threat of more tears. There'd been too many already. "It's just…" She tried for a smile. "It's nice to be home."

He pulled her abruptly into his arms, his breath warm against her neck as he whispered, "It's not home without you here."

After a while they walked quietly into the bedroom. It felt so strange to be back there, everything at once familiar and new. She searched for something to sleep in while Josh brushed his teeth, then she disappeared into the bathroom to change. When she got back he was already in bed, watching her with a slightly nervous smile on his tired face.

She crawled under the covers and lay next to him, reminded suddenly of their first, awkward night together. There'd been so much heat, but neither of them had been willing to risk any real warmth; they'd both felt too much to reveal it so soon. But this wasn't their first night and she'd learned how to talk - they both had. So she rolled over, as she'd always done, with her back to him. After a moment he moved too, touching her tentatively at first as he snuggled up behind her; this was how they always slept, with his arm around her waist and his fingers tucked between her ribs and the mattress. She sighed in utter contentment and he answered with a gentle squeeze, a kiss on her shoulder, and then blissful sleep carried them both into dreams.

Donna didn't know how much later she woke, or who woke first. A very pale light was filtering through the curtains, casting everything in shades of gray, and as she drifted from dreams into reality she found that her lips were on his, softly, sleepily kissing.

There were no words; after a day of talking, there was nothing left to say. Now there was only sensation. His hands on her bare skin, her mouth on his collarbone, his breath hot against her neck as she gasped his name, the muscles in his back moving beneath her clutching fingers; no fumbling first night, this, each touch was consummate. But transcending the physical was a joining beyond anything she'd ever experienced; a connection so profound and eternal that it left her breathless, dizzy. Wordless.

This, oh yes, this was love.

Hot, sweaty and tangled together, tender kisses lulled them gently back to sleep. And when Donna woke again, Josh told her his plan.

It was a bright, sunny morning in early October. The leaves were starting to turn, the sky was a crisp blue, and Donna could hardly keep herself from running through the corridors of the White House. Today was the day.

Her right hand was clutched tightly around the set of keys that had just been delivered to her office, and she suspected that her wide smile had frightened a couple of loitering interns as she'd dashed past. But what did she care? Today was the day.

She was just crossing the lobby, doing her best to avoid anyone who looked like they might need to talk to her, when she saw a familiar figure disappearing into the West Wing ahead of her. Donna slowed, avoidance being her instinctive reaction. But today her heart was buoyant, overflowing with good will, and this was something that she should have dealt with long before. So perhaps today really was the day.

Lengthening her stride, she pushed through the double doors and caught sight of Amy Gardner a few feet ahead of her. Before she could change her mind, Donna called her name.

Amy stopped, then turned slowly. She was as beautiful as ever, Donna thought. But this time the realization wasn't accompanied by a pang of envy or suspicion. Amy was Amy and always would be. Which was why she was eying Donna suspiciously over the rim of her glasses. "Hey, Donna. You need something?"

"Have you got a minute?" she glanced up and down the corridor; it was as empty as it would get.

"Sure." Amy started flicking through the files in her arms as she spoke, a visual reminder that she really wasn't interested in anything Donna had to say. "What's up?"

"I just- I wanted to thank you, actually."

"For what?"

"For looking out for Josh a few months back. It was…" She smiled awkwardly. "I know what you think of me, Amy, and-"

"Look, I don't know what Josh has said-"

"He hasn't said anything," Donna assured her, lowering her voice a little. "It's okay. I don't mind that you don't think I'm good enough for him; I never thought you were, either."

Amy's lips twisted into half a smile. "I know."

"I just wanted to say thanks, for looking out for him when things between us fell apart. And because I know you care about him-"

"Hey, I don't-"

"As a friend," Donna assured her. "As a friend, Amy. Because I know you're his friend, I just want you to know that I'm going to look after him."

Amy was silent for a moment. "Okay. Well, someone has to, I guess. He might have the most brilliant political mind of a generation, but most of the time he's pretty clueless."

Donna smiled. "He has his moments."

"Yeah, he does." Amy looked away, swallowing a sigh that might have been wistful. After a while she said, "For what it's worth, I didn't sleep with him." Her gaze slid back to Donna, something of a challenge in her dark eyes. "While you guys were on the rocks? I didn't sleep with him. I could have, but I didn't."

Donna just smiled. "I know."

"You do?"

"He told me he tried to seduce you with take-out and a bottle of wine. I told him he was a cheap date and deserved the whole shoelace thing." Amy looked a little startled, which made Donna smile again. "Talking's our new thing."

"Yeah? Who'd have thought."

"To be honest, it's hard to shut him up once he gets going."

Amy almost laughed, turning it into a wry snort at the last moment. "That I can believe." She took a deep breath. "Well, I have a thing, so…"

"Yeah, me too."

She'd just turned to leave when Amy said, "He's got a good heart, Donna. Don't break it again."

"I won't." For an instant their eyes met, a brief moment of understanding. "I promise."

With a nod, a curiously self-conscious nod, Amy strode away down the corridor. Donna watched her go, watched the deliberate swish of her hips that mesmerized most of the male staff, and wondered if Josh realized that Amy Gardner was still a little bit in love with him. If he didn't, he wouldn't hear it from Donna's lips; she and Amy may never be friends, but Amy deserved to keep her secrets. God knew Donna understood that.

But her contemplation didn't last long. The keys in her hand were digging into her palm, urging her to keep walking, and the smile on her face couldn't be repressed for long. With a gleeful heart she wove her way through the busy corridors, waved at a couple of people in lieu of stopping to chat, and soon found herself outside the Chief of Staff's office.

"Is he in?" she asked Margaret.

"Yes. Have you got the keys?"

Donna's grin was as wide as the Cheshire Cat's as she dangled the keys from her fingers.

"Thank God," Margaret said seriously. "He's been impossible all morning."

"I'll take him off your hands for while," Donna promised as she opened the door to his office.

Josh was behind his desk, nose in a stack of papers, but he looked up the moment she entered. "Have you got them?"

"Went like clockwork," she said, waving the keys and making them tinkle.

"Yes!" He was out from behind his desk in a heartbeat, grabbed her face and kissed her soundly. "Oh my God. We've got it!"

She grinned. "Yes we do."

"We have to go. We have to go see it now!"

"So get your coat!"

As Josh stepped out of his car into the crisp, fall air, he didn't think life could get any better. Donna's hand found its way into his and for a moment they both stood there, in silence, just looking.

Looking at their house.

"We own a house," he said at last. "We own this house."

"This beautiful, perfect house," Donna agreed, squeezing his hand. "Shall we go in, or just admire it from the sidewalk?"

"I'm savoring the moment," he told her with a smile. But he was already walking, his eyes ranging over the windows, the roof, the front yard. "I'm going to have to learn about…drainpipes and stuff."

"For the love of God, Josh, tell me you're not going to try and…do stuff to it."

"What do you mean, 'do stuff'?" he said as they climbed the steps to the front door. "I'm the man of the house, home improvement is my domain!"

"I see. So they teach that at Harvard do they? Or was it Yale?"

"It's in the blood. It's a guy thing."

"Josh you can barely change a light bulb…"

"Just open the door will you, woman. I'm freezing."

She smiled, and he knew she was only teasing. Kinda. "You want to?" she asked, offering him the key.

"No. You did all the hard work, you do it."

With an excited little grin she slid the key into the lock, turned it and the door swung open. It smelled a little odd inside, of packing boxes and other people, and his footsteps echoed in the empty rooms. But it was theirs, all of it. It was their house.

Holding hands they toured all the rooms almost at a run, trying to see everything at once: the bedrooms, all five of them (one to become a study), the family room, the dining room, the open plan kitchen, the den, the walkout basement with Jacuzzi and steam room, the yard that stretched out in a swath of grass and ended in tall, elegant trees. It was perfect, even with the scuffed paintwork and scratches on the hardwood floor. It was all perfect.

"We should have brought some champagne or something," Donna said, coming to stand next to Josh as he gazed out through the full length picture windows at the leaves turning crimson on the trees. Their trees.

He smiled. "We own trees, Donna."

"We do," she agreed. "And a Jacuzzi."

"Yeah…" This place, this house…their future. He glanced at her sideways, wondering if now was the moment. She wasn't looking at him, but her eyes were smiling as she gazed out through the windows into the soft, golden sunshine and he didn't think she'd ever looked more beautiful.

Swallowing a sudden, nervous lump in his throat, he moved so that he was standing behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. For what he was about to say, this was better; he didn't dare watch her face as he spoke. But her arms folded over his and her head sank back to rest on his shoulder so that they were almost cheek to cheek, and that was almost enough to dry the words on his lips.

Not quite enough though. "Donna, I'm going to say something now and I don't want you to say anything until I've finished, okay?"

He felt her stiffen in his arms, but she didn't speak.

"Okay?" he asked again.

"I thought you said I shouldn't say any-?"

"Donna…"

"I'm listening!"

He took a deep breath. "Okay… Okay, I've been thinking. I've been thinking a lot over the last few months - since we got back together. And it's been so good, it's been so… I feel like I've woken up, or something. My whole life, it's been about the job. Even before I had the job, it was about the job. But now… I sit in that office and I watch the clock. I think about getting home instead of the getting the votes in, I think about this house instead of the White House."

"Josh…"

"Shhh…" He tightened his arms around her. "Just listen. Donna, I've made a decision and maybe it's one I should have discussed with you first, but I really needed to make this on my own because it's been my whole life." He paused, just at the last moment, hesitating before he said the words out loud for the first time. But there were no lingering regrets; he was sure. "After the election, win or lose, I'm going to step down as Chief of Staff."

"Josh!" She turned her head to look at him, eyes wide. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Sam and Amy have it covered, easily. They can bring in other people if they need to, and the President doesn't need me like he used to."

"No, I mean… are you sure? What will you do with yourself?"

He quirked a smile. "Home improvement?"

"Be serious."

"There's any number of things I could do. Sit on a couple of boards, some speaking. Teach, I guess, if I wanted."

She smiled at that. "Teach?"

"What? I could do that."

"Josh…"

"It doesn't matter," he said, cutting her off. "I'll do something. I'm not looking for a new career, I'm looking for a life."

She went very still in his arms, turning to gaze out the window again; he wasn't sure she was still breathing.

"I'm looking for a life, Donna. With you. A life and a-" Here it was... "And a family."

He wished he could see her face now, because she wasn't speaking. The moment stretched to eternity as he waited, and waited…

"Donna…?"

"I think," she blurted, her voice a little wobbly. "I think… I was thinking that the little room, you know the one with the long window? I was thinking that the sun is so pretty when it shines in there that, if we painted it a soft yellow, it would be perfect for a…nursery."

Something caught in his throat; he couldn't seem to find any words. Luckily he didn't need them, because she turned in his arms and he saw everything he'd hoped for in her eyes. "Yes," he said at last, his fingers on her beautiful face, "Yes, it really would."

She grinned, sniffed, and then threw her arms around him. "I love you," she whispered fiercely.

"I don't have a ring or anything," he said, speaking into her hair. "But I figured we'd choose one together and there's plenty of time, because it's over a year until the election and then-"

"I don't want to wait that long," she said, pulling back to look into his face. "Let's not wait that long."

He shook his head. "I can't quit before-"

"No. No, I didn't mean that," she said. "But we could- We could still get married."

Just the word made him grin and her enthusiasm made him so happy he could have danced. But it wasn't possible. He took her face in both his hands. "We'd have no time for a honeymoon, and if we- If there was a baby I'd want to be there for the whole thing and-"

"It's okay." Her smile was more brilliant than the sunshine, her eyes so full of love. "I can't think about have a baby right now, Josh. I didn't mean that. But we can get married. I don't want to wait a year for that."

"But I was going to take you to Hawaii," he protested. "And there's no way, this close to the elections, that I can get away for-"

Her soft finger touched his lips. "Be quiet," she said firmly. "Listen to me. I know exactly when we should get married."

"You do?"

"December twenty-second. This year."

His eyes widened. "That's just a couple of months away! That's-" And then the significance of the date dawned on him. December twenty-second. The day she'd quit. "Donna…"

"It's perfect," she insisted. "Right before Christmas, so you'll have a few days after. We can find a cute little New England cottage or something, with a log fire and snow…"

"The…twenty second?

She dipped her head for a moment, but met his eyes again before she said, "You're going to remember that date anyway, Josh. I know you. And I don't want you remembering it as the day I left, I want you remembering it as the day I promised to stay forever."

Because he simply couldn't answer that, because she was just too, too wonderful, all he could do was grab her and hold her tight until he found his voice. "Okay," he said, gruff and emotional. "Okay. But one thing… I think we should spend Christmas in Wisconsin."

"Wisconsin?"

"With your family."

She pulled back, her eyes liquid with happy tears. "You want to spend our honeymoon with…my family?"

"Our family," he said with an uncertain smile. "And I hardly know them."

"Josh…" Her hand was over her mouth, her eyes spilling tears again.

"Then, after I step down… A month on the beach in Hawaii."

She just nodded and smiled and he had to kiss those smiling, beautiful lips. His fiancée's lips. He was light as a feather, giddy as a schoolboy, happier than he'd ever dreamed possible, and it was all because of her. Because of this incredible, wonderful woman in his arms.

He pulled back again, just enough to see her face. He wanted to see that face everyday, forever. With one finger he traced the faint lines around her eyes, the soft angles of her cheek. "I am the luckiest…"

She just shook her head, too emotional to speak.

"And we're getting married!" It came out as a laugh. An incredulous, joyful laugh. "We're getting married, Donna!"

"Yes," she beamed. "Yes, we really are."

And so they were, on a cold, bright December morning in Washington, D.C. And it was, of course, perfect.

Alisa MacCallen often walked down the Mall on warm sunny afternoons. It was a relief to get out of the office, and the buzz of people helped her feel anonymous. In a crowd, she was unlikely to be noticed by one of her clients, and if she was, it was easier for them to ignore her. By and large, people didn't like bumping into their therapist out of context.

And so, when she spotted a familiar face strolling toward her, she instinctively slowed and moved to the other side of the wide pathway. This client, in particular, would have good reason to avoid a public acknowledgment. She hadn't seen him in a long time, however; well over a year if she remembered correctly. Whether that was a good or a bad sign, she hadn't liked to speculate. She'd called his office a couple of times after their last session, because he'd been very down, very broken, but he hadn't called back and he wasn't the sort of man you pursued. So it was with some interest that she observed him now, walking along hand in hand with a tall, elegant blonde woman.

He was, undeniably, well. Less tired than she remembered and not wearing a suit. She didn't think she'd ever seen him without a shirt and tie, and the casual look worked very well; it took ten years off him, at least. As Alisa watched, the woman said something to him and he laughed, the sort of open, happy laugh she'd never seen in her office. And it was contagious; Alisa couldn't help smiling herself as she slowed to watch them walk past.

Perhaps it was because she was standing still, however, that she drew his attention because suddenly his quick, dark eyes met hers with a look of surprise. Alisa offered half a smile and was about to leave, when,

"Alisa! Wait…"

Surprised, she stopped and turned. He was talking quietly to the woman at his side who was regarding Alisa with a look of real interest. Alisa took this as a good sign and smiled as they walked over to join her. "Hello, Josh," she said. "It's nice to see you."

"You too," he nodded, and then, indicating the woman at his side, said, "This is Donna. Donna Moss? My, uh, wife."

The infamous Donna Moss… "Congratulations," Alisa beamed, regarding the woman with real interest. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Donna."

"You too," she answered, holding out her hand to shake. She was beautiful, Alisa realized, and Josh had never mentioned that. Intelligent too, and with a sweetness that was immediately obvious. Not quite as Alisa would have drawn her from Josh's description, but then his view hadn't been entirely reliable at the time. She seemed at ease with herself too, her smile was genuine, her expression honest, and as she moved to shake Alisa's hand her loose dress shifted in a slight breeze and tightened over her delicately rounded belly. "I've heard a lot about you," Donna said, taking her hand in a firm grip.

Alisa smiled politely, but didn't say 'me too'; client confidentiality was paramount. Instead she turned to Josh. "I saw on the news that you'd stepped down. I wondered what you were up to."

He looked a little sheepish. "I feel bad for not calling, or-"

"It's my job, Josh. I'm not your mother. You don't have to call me."

"No," he agreed with another smile. "No, okay." He scratched his head, a little nervous in her company she suspected. "I'm doing some teaching, actually. At Georgetown. Just for a while. Donna's still working at the White House, so it's convenient for now."

Donna smiled - she had a beautiful, wide smile - and her hand fluttered toward her stomach. "We're expecting a baby in December, so…"

"We're just going to see how it goes," Josh finished.

"Well, that sounds like a healthy approach," Alisa said. "Congratulations, Josh. It's wonderful news. And it's so good to see you this happy."

"Yeah," he agreed. "And, listen, thanks. You know, for all the…stuff. It really helped."

It was unprofessional, but she couldn't help her eyebrows lifting at his openness. "I can tell."

"Seriously. I recommend you to all my screwed up friends."

"Josh!" Donna elbowed him sharply.

"What? She knows I'm joking."

Alisa laughed. "Trust me, Donna, I've heard worse." She turned back to Josh, catching the quick, amused grin he sent his wife. "I have to go, Josh, but it's been wonderful to see you again. And you know where I am, anytime…"

He shrugged that familiar, arrogant shrug of his. "Thanks, but I doubt that'll be necessary. I think I'm cured."

"Really?" Donna asked.

He looked over at her. "What?"

"You're about to become a father, you don't think that's going to raise some issues?"

"You don't think this is an odd place to discuss it?"

"I'm just saying…it's life, Josh. You can't be cured of life."

She was looking at him with laughing eyes and with a great deal of love. Donna might be right - undoubtedly she was; life was a journey, not a condition - but Alisa saw something rare between them in that moment. Something permanent and nurturing, something that meant they'd bend against the storms to come and weather them together. And it did her heart good to see it - to see them.

After they'd said their goodbyes she watched them walk away, still hand in hand, still smiling, and she knew she'd never see Josh Lyman again.

He'd found his rock, his shelter, and that was all he'd ever needed. In the end, it was all anyone ever needed.

~End~

Thanks for reading!  I hope you enjoyed it.  I’m always trying to improve my writing, and all constructive feedback is welcome at "sallyreeve <at> blueyonder.co.uk".