"I can't do this," Josh announced.

He was standing there in the hallway, looking as though he wanted to throw up.  His tie was crooked, his hair was going in about fifteen different directions, and his mouth was setting into the thin line which usually indicated that he'd decided to move from frightened to belligerent.

"It's refreshing to know that some things never change," Donna muttered as she held the door to her hotel room open for him.

"I mean it, Donna," he said as he swept into the room.  "I can't walk into the President's home and have--"

"Have the President tell you how disappointed he is with what you've done to your life?  Have the First Lady read you the riot act for deserting her husband during those last few months?  Have Leo look right through you as though you're not even there?"

"Thanks so much.  I've really missed these little pep talks of yours."

"Come here.  Your tie's on crooked."

He closed the distance between them and she took a deep breath, partly to steady her hands but mostly to take in the scent of him.  Then she set about the task of straightening his tie and soothing his nerves.

"They don't hate you, you know," she told him.

"You weren't there.  You didn't hear Leo when I said I was leaving."

"And you weren't there to hear Leo gloat every time Hoynes went up a point in the polls."

"If he gloated, it was only because Leo hates Baker."

"Leo's reaction had nothing to do with Baker.  Or with Hoynes.  God knows there was no love lost between Hoynes and Leo once the Vice-President decided to challenge us in the primaries."  Josh's tie was perfect now, but she couldn't bring herself to step back.  "Things changed those last few months, Josh.  Margaret and Nancy had split Mrs. Landingham's job because the President couldn't bear to hire someone to replace her."

"I remember," he said.  His hands went around her waist.  Just for a minute, she told herself.  I'll give this a minute before I make him let go.  "You took over some of Margaret's duties right after Mrs. L's accident.  I hated not having you to myself."

"So," she said, noticing that somehow her hands had ended up around his neck, "there were these times when it was just Leo and me in his office.  I don't think he would have said anything in front of the others, but it was pretty clear by then how I -- that I missed you.  And Leo never said anything, you know, personal about you; but he'd talk about how you were running the campaign, how nobody else could pull off the miracle you were working.  He was so proud of you, Josh."

"He can't have been."

"He is.  Josh, he calls your mother."

"He's known my mother for almost forty years.  Besides, the whole world calls my mother.  Adira Lyman's house might as well be DNC headquarters."

"As much as I love your mother, Josh, did it ever occur to you that people call her because they're concerned about you?"

Obviously not, she thought, judging from the stunned look in his eyes.  So she continued, "Yes, you hurt Leo.  But here's the thing: he's just like the rest of us.  If you'd given any one of us a clue that we were welcome back in your life any time during the last three years, Josh, we would have been there.  Leo, the Bartlets, all of us -- we were simply waiting for you to let us know you still cared."

"You would have?" he asked.  His voice had suddenly taken on this quiet, almost whispery, tone.  They were so close together now that she could feel his breath against her skin.

"Absolutely."  She told herself, yet again, that she intended to be completely professional.  That she was not giving in to the temptation to kiss him.

"And what if you're wrong?" he asked.  "What if they throw me out?"

"Then we come back here and have dinner at the hotel.  But they won't kick you out."  She finally disentangled herself from his embrace and grabbed her coat.  "Now come on, or we'll be late.  And it's bad form to keep the former leader of the free world waiting.

***

Leo McGarry sat stone still in the blue armchair because he knew if he let himself move, even the slightest bit, he'd be pacing the considerable length of the Bartlets' living room.  He kept telling himself there was no reason to be nervous, that seeing Josh again was no big deal.

It didn't seem to be working, if the way he started at the sound of CJ's laughter filtering into the room was any indication.  Okay, he thought, pulling himself out of the chair.  It's time.

Abbey Bartlet swept through the archway, elegant as always in a plum-colored suit, followed by CJ and her husband, Evan.  CJ looked gorgeous in a simple black dress, and Evan's dark suit and crisp white shirt made them quite a stunning couple.

"Leo," Abbey grinned.  "I'm sure you vaguely remember this woman."

Leo walked over to them.  "Yeah.  DeeDee, isn't it?"

CJ leaned down and embraced him warmly.  "You're a funny guy, Leopold."

Leo turned to Evan.  "Good to see you, Evan.  Altimetrical -- who was that about?"

Laughing, Evan shook Leo's proffered hand.  "I don't know what you mean.  Altimetrical was a work of fiction.  Surely there are innumerable six foot tall, gangly white women--"

"Gangly?" CJ protested.

"--in love with articulate, educated black men, right?"

Abbey gave CJ an amused look.  "I'm beginning to see what you mean."

CJ laughed at the expression on Evan's face.  "That'll teach you to call me gangly."

"You've been spreading stories about me," Evan said with an exaggerated sigh.  "I only hope that my considerable prowess--"

"In writing," CJ interrupted loudly, eyes wide.

Evan blinked innocently.  "Of course in writing.  Why?  What did you think I meant?"

Leo and Abbey exchanged amused looks as CJ groped for an answer.  She was saved by the arrival of Sam and Donna, ushered in by Jed Bartlet, who had an arm slung around each of their shoulders.  Leo beamed at the trio.

"Get over here," he ordered.

Sam, who Leo'd kept in touch with via the occasional phone call or email, came bounding across the room, while Donna moved to greet Abbey.  They both looked good, Leo thought.  Donna looked more self-assured and less bereft than she had at CJ's wedding, and some of Sam's bitterness seemed to have dissipated.

Sam gave Leo a quick hug with attendant, manly back-slapping.  "Leo, it's good to see you."

"You too," Leo replied.  "How're things?"

Sam's good mood wavered.  "Pretty good.  The campaign--"

"Sam," Donna admonished from her spot in between CJ and Abbey.  "We just got here.  I know we can't avoid it completely with this crowd, but can we at least save the political talk until the others get here?"

Leo's kindly expression faltered at the reminder of the prodigal son, but then he reached a hand toward Donna.  "Come here."

With a shy smile, Donna stepped forward and gave him a hug.  "You look wonderful, Leo."

His face crinkled into a grin as he released her.  "You really have been hanging around CJ too long; you're getting damn good at lying, Donna."

"Hey!" CJ protested good-naturedly.

Leo threw her a smile and turned back to Donna.  "I understand you're putting off your master's for this?"

"Yes," Donna answered.  "I got an extension--"

"And changed the topic again," CJ interjected gleefully.  Evan rolled his eyes and gave Donna a helpless shrug.

Leo raised his eyebrows.  "What's the topic?"

Donna flushed a little.  "The Intersection of Politics and Gender in the Presidential Campaign of Governor Susan Douglas-Radford."

Abbey grinned.  "That sounds incredibly interesting, Donna.  Are you referring to her media image or to her political platform?"

"Both, actually," Donna said.  "I think the two issues are interrelated, because the media is trying to shape her political views into this image of a hardcore feminist, and they're supporting it with her tough appearance and stance on issues traditionally limited to the male sphere -- foreign affairs, the military.  The focus of her campaign, so far, has been damage control; getting more of her actual platform out there to supersede the media-created platform of women's issues, which is not something that her male opponents have to worry about quite as much."  Donna stopped suddenly.  "I'm sorry to ramble on."

Chuckling, Leo replied.  "Send me a copy of that, would you?"

"Sure," Donna answered, shooting CJ an evil look, which CJ acknowledged with a broad grin.

Then Leo heard Jed Bartlet's cheerful voice pronounce, "Governor Douglas-Radford!  Tom!  Welcome; please, make yourself at home."

Leo turned, his gaze brushing past Douglas-Radford and her husband, stopping briefly on Toby as he shook hands with Bartlet, and landing on Josh Lyman.

Leo had a bit of difficulty keeping his expression neutral as he studied Josh's haggard face, his too-thin frame, and, worst of all, the hesitant way he hovered in the doorway.  What a change from the brash, egotistical Josh Lyman of the Bartlet administration.  Adira Lyman's worried tone and veiled references to Josh's state of mind made sudden, sickening sense.

Then Bartlet stepped over to Josh, blocking Leo's view -- and, thank God, snapping him out of his worried daze.  He'd actually been considering marching over to Josh and giving him a good old-fashioned, Leo-style lecture about taking care of himself.

Whatever Bartlet said to Josh was too low for Leo to overhear, but the two men disappeared into the foyer, leaving Leo in a state of indecision.

***

Jed Bartlet, Josh thought, looked incredible.  Josh stood just inside the door, uncomfortably, and watched as Bartlet greeted Governor Douglas-Radford and her husband.  The president looked a little older, a little grayer, perhaps, but he was obviously still in remission.  Thank God.  Josh had, of course, kept track of as many of his former friends and colleagues as possible; but he was never quite sure how accurate the information on Jed Bartlet was, considering that he and Abbey had done their best to recapture their privacy once they left D.C.

Abbey, too, looked characteristically radiant; he'd caught sight of her, standing with Donna and Evan, and smiling in his general direction.  Then Josh glanced almost involuntarily at Leo, who stood with Sam, his expression impassive as he watched his former deputy.

Before Josh could react, Jed Bartlet stepped over to him, blocking the rest of the room's occupants from his sight.  "Josh," he said.  "I wonder if I might have a word with you in private?"

Oh, God.  CJ had obviously misinterpreted the invite; Josh clearly wasn't welcome here.  He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the trembling and nodded.  "Sure."

"Good."  Bartlet smiled, placing a hand on Josh's shoulder as he led him from the large living room down the hall to his private study.  Josh glanced around the room, smiling a bit at the excessive amount of bookshelves, the antique desk, and the way the reading chair overlooked the President's beloved wilderness.  Or at least the backyard.

He hesitated a couple steps into the room, uncertain of the exact protocol for a conversation with the former president -- and his former boss --a bout his desertion years earlier.

"Josh, please," Bartlet said, dropping into the desk chair and swinging it around to face his guest.  "I'm not going to bite."

Josh cracked a grin and settled into the armchair Bartlet indicated.  "Well, I wasn't worried about the biting so much as the incessant recitation of useless information, or, you know, the part where you kick me out."

Bartlet looked genuinely shocked.  "You think I'm going to kick you out?"

Josh shifted uncomfortably.  "No."

With a hand to his chest, Bartlet said, "I would never kick you out of my home, Josh."

"Oh," Josh answered stupidly.  "Okay."

Bartlet looked like he wanted to say more on the subject; but instead, he leaned back and folded his hands together.  "So tell me, Josh, how have you been?"

"Fine, sir."

Bartlet raised an eyebrow.  "I may not have my wife's medical training -- speaking of which, you'll probably want to avoid getting cornered by her tonight unless you fancy an impromptu physical -- but I can tell you've lost weight."

Josh swallowed hard; he'd forgotten how good it felt to be an honorary Bartlet, to experience the President's warm concern for his adopted children.  The realization was painful, if only because he'd managed to forget this aspect of his time with the Bartlet administration and, consequently, had never really understood how much he missed it.

"I'm fine," Josh insisted, his voice a little rough around the edges.

"You look tired."

"Really, sir, I'm fine."

"Josh, call me Jed."

Josh gave him an incredulous look, then burst out laughing, his momentary lapse into self-pity forgotten.  "I don't think so."

Bartlet grinned at him.  "What if I make it a presidential order?"

"Well, considering you're not the president..." Josh answered, with his trademark smirk.

"Curses," Bartlet answered.  "That's what CJ and Sam said.  Toby told me to stuff it, and Leo only uses my name when he wants to admonish me."

Josh's laughter died.  Leo.  Leo was out there at the party, waiting for him.  Waiting for the opportunity to cut Josh dead in front of all of the people he'd only just begun to win back over.  Donna and Sam and CJ and Toby would remember why they'd hated Josh in the first place, and--

"Josh?"

Josh blinked and looked up.  "Yeah?"

"The reason I wanted to talk to you is--"  Bartlet stopped, shifted a little in his seat.  "I understand you haven't talked to Leo in--"

"Sir--"

"Let me finish, Josh."  Josh shrugged his consent, and Bartlet nodded.  "You have to understand the dynamics back then.  In Seattle."

"I already know--"

"I'm not talking about politics, Josh.  I don't know anyone who thinks your decision was bad, politically speaking.  Even Leo."

Josh nodded uncertainly.  "Okay."

"It was more of a sense of..." Bartlet sighed.  "Personal betrayal."

"Sir."  Josh lurched to his feet, tilting his head toward the door.  "This probably isn't--"

"You're his son, Josh," Bartlet interrupted, his voice gentle.  "The closest he's ever had to one, and I'm his brother.  He didn't want to have to make a choice.  He was paralyzed by the very idea."

Josh stared intently at the scuffed hardwood floor.  "I know," he muttered.  "I never meant--"

A sharp knock at the door drowned out Josh's fumbling apology, and Bartlet rolled his eyes.

"Well, I guess I'm impressed he managed to wait this long," Bartlet told Josh.  Raising his voice, he called, "Come in, Leo."

Josh turned a panicked look to Bartlet.  "Sir?"

The door behind him opened, and Josh whirled around to face his mentor.

Leo didn't take his eyes off of Josh, even when he addressed Bartlet.  "Sir, would you mind terribly if--"

"I'll just go round up Liz and see you two at the party."  Bartlet headed for the door, touching Josh's shoulder briefly.

Josh stared at Leo, his entire body thrumming with indecision.  The silence held a little longer, until Leo gave a curt nod.

"Josh.  Have a seat."

***

A party at the Manchester house was, Donna reflected, a lot like a high school reunion.  Not that she'd gone to her high school reunion -- that event had taken place the summer following President Bartlet's announcement about his MS.  Even if she could have found the time to go to Wisconsin, she hadn't felt up to a round of listen to people she hadn't seen in ten years asking "Who did the President tell, and when did he tell them?"  So she'd stayed in DC and rehearsed her grand jury testimony instead.

Still, this party fit her idea of what a high school reunion would be like.  There were the people, like CJ and herself, who had remained close over the years and had no problem relating to each other as they were now.  There were the people she hadn't seen in years who couldn't wrap their minds around the fact that she'd changed since the group left 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.  Talking to Margaret, who would always be with Leo just the way Mrs. Landingham had always been with the President, was especially awkward.  Donna wasn't sure what the problem was -- maybe Margaret thought Donna had betrayed the profession of assistant -- but their conversation was strained in a way it hadn't been back in the day.

"Maybe it's me," she commented to Zoey.  "Maybe I should have worn a t-shirt that said 'I don't babble anymore, and I'm no longer at Josh Lyman's beck and call."

"At least the first half would be true," Zoey replied.  Zoey's fashion sense had grown more classic over the years, and she had developed a sense of poise that reminded Donna of Abbey Bartlet.  However, Zoey still had that impish grin that was somehow a perfect blend of her parents, and she remained the Bartlet daughter most likely to speak her own mind.  Considering that Liz and Ellie were firm believers in speaking the truth, this was no small accomplishment.

Back during the Bartlet For America campaign, Zoey had spent an inordinate amount of time with the staff, the result of her crush on Josh.  A crush that Josh, being Josh, never noticed.  He'd alternately discussed politics with the youngest Bartlet daughter as though she were an adult and teased her as though he were her big brother.  Donna dated her own Josh obsession from a moment when she'd noticed him, on the campaign bus, turning to Toby to tell him about this insight Zoey'd had about voter apathy.  Josh hadn't been teasing or sarcastic; he hadn't been sucking up to the candidate by listening to his daughter.  Someone had made a point that he thought the rest of the staff needed to hear.  The fact that the source was a teenaged girl hadn't mattered to him in the least.

Donna and Zoey had inevitably bonded over their mutual loathing of Mandy Hampton.  During the White House years, Zoey had spent more time than Liz or Ellie in the West Wing, partly because she was the only Bartlet daughter located in the greater DC area and partly because she was dating Charlie.  Donna had been far too busy to spend much time with Zoey, but they'd always had a friendly relationship.  Now that they were both in grad school, they exchanged sporadic emails in which they shared their frustrations over their demanding professors, their idiotic classmates and their lack of private time.

"Are you suggesting that I'm not over Josh?" Donna asked.

"Hey, I'm just curious.  I mean, were you ever actually under him?"

"Zoey Bartlet!"

"I'll take that as a yes.  Then maybe later I'll tell Josh how disappointed I am in his choice of position."

"I think the women's studies degree is going to your head."

"Don't start.  I get this from my father all the time.  Especially since I decided to do my thesis on The Representation of Pregnancy and Abortion in Prime-Time Television Since the 1970s.  It's not Dad's idea of a serious topic.  My mother, on the other hand, thinks it rocks."

"I'm agreeing with your mother on this one."

"You'd be amazed how increasingly conservative television has become.  In the 1970s, you could have a character like Maude chose abortion, but today it's always a tearful last-minute decision to keep the baby followed by a spontaneous miscarriage.  I hypothesize that it's less a change in viewer attitude toward abortion than it is a calculated decision at the corporate level based on a largely unfounded fear of special interest groups such as In Defense of Tradition--"

"Ah, our old friend Mary Marsh."

"Yeah.  Bitch.  Anyway, the advertisers worry that they'll be the target of boycotts like the one against ABC/Disney back in the '90s, networks worry that advertisers will pull their money, and next thing you know Buffy is vowing to keep her baby."

"Buffy?  Is that still on?"

"Yeah. I suppose it's hard to finish college if you're up all night killing vampires.  Anyway, I'm dividing the study into two parts -- textual analysis and institutional -- Okay, I'm used to other people checking out on me when I get to the part where I start talking about deconstruction versus reader response theory, but I listened to you talk about your thesis."  Zoey followed Donna's gaze to the closed door Josh and her father had disappeared behind some time ago.  "Oh, yeah, you're over him all right."

"Leo went in there," Donna explained.

"It'll be fine."

"I know.  I just--"  She shrugged.  "This whole situation is so awkward.  Half the time I don't even know what I'm supposed to be feeling."  She looked at the younger woman.  "How the hell have you and Charlie managed to stay friends?"

Zoey looked stunned.  "You're asking me for advice?"

"Well, yeah.  You're not a kid anymore, Zoey.  You're--"  Donna did the math in her head.  "My God, you're as old as I was when I started working for Josh.  So how do you stay friends with someone you used to care for?"

"I suppose it helps that I really do still care about Charlie.  Not romantically.  I mean, honestly, how many people end up with the guy they fell for their freshman year?  But Charlie and I went through hell together, after all.  In fact, we probably wouldn't have lasted as long as we did if we hadn't felt like breaking up would have been caving in to those bastards at Rosslyn."

Donna wondered what it was about all of them that they still had trouble referring directly to the shooting.  It was always "Rosslyn" or "that night," never "when Josh got shot."  She nodded her understanding, and Zoey continued.

"And my dad loves Charlie like a son.  Hell, Charlie is like my dad in so many ways.  You know," she said, grinning, "except that my dad was born rich and white instead of poor and black.  So I have to get along with Charlie, even if it is awkward sometimes.  I can't be responsible for Dad having to cut him out of the family circle.  Anyway, yes, our relationship is strained sometimes, but Charlie and I -- we get along better as brother and sister than we ever did as lovers.  Of course, it helps that neither of us wants to be lovers anymore."

"Yes, I imagine that would help."

"So that's all you have to do," Zoey concluded.  "Just don't want to sleep with Josh."  She had this mischievous smile that was eerily reminiscent of her father.  "Think you can manage that, Donna?"

***

Leo hesitated just inside the door, thrown a little bit for a loop as Josh Lyman, the original problem child, obediently took a seat on his command.  It struck Leo then that Josh was acting more like a little boy awaiting a well-deserved scolding than a forty-three-year-old politician attending a party.  He wondered what had happened over the past three years to make Josh think Leo wanted merely to scold him.

"Josh," Leo finally said, pulling Bartlet's desk chair closer to his former deputy.  "It's good to see you.  You could pick up a phone, you know."

It was enough to shatter the brittle atmosphere, and Josh's worried expression melted into that familiar, impish smirk.  "Works both ways, Leo."

Leo allowed himself a small, lopsided grin.  "Yeah, but you were the one wandering aimlessly around the country hoping to stumble across a decent candidate."

"As opposed to you hitting every major city in your little lecture tour," Josh retorted.

"Hey, I'm retired."

Josh nodded, a little of the tension returning to his body as he glanced out the window.  "True.  But there are these newfangled things called cellphones.  Been around, oh, fifteen or twenty years now."

Throwing up his hands in mock exasperation, Leo said, "And to think I missed this kind of abuse."

Josh trained his gaze on the dark window beside him.  "In all seriousness, Leo."  He took a deep, unsteady breath and met Leo's gaze.  "I am sorry."

"Goes both ways, Josh."  Leo was embarrassed at the unsteadiness of his voice.  He cleared his throat.  "Listen, I didn't come back here to browbeat you about the past."

Josh raised an eyebrow.  "Okay."

"What you did with Hoynes -- the fifteen-point bump in three months -- that was..."  Leo paused, unable to come up with the right words.  Frustrated, he sighed, "That was damn good politics."

Josh stared at him, his mouth open the slightest bit and a deep flush suffusing his features.  "I -- Leo, that's--"  He stammered to a halt.

Leo grinned outright.  "Don't worry about it, kid.  Just don't drop off the face of the earth next time, okay?"

"Yeah," Josh said, his voice rough.  "Sure."

There was a quick knock at the door, then a petite woman with a bright blue scarf wrapped turban-style around her head peeked in.  "Everyone still standing in here?"

"Liz," Josh exclaimed, jumping up to meet her as she stepped into the room and gave Leo a nod.

Liz Bartlet had always been petite like her sisters, but her second battle with cancer had left her almost gaunt.  Even as pale as she was standing there beaming at Josh, Leo thought she looked light years better than she had the week before.

"Why, Joshua Lyman, as I live and breathe."  Liz spoke in a wicked imitation of her father's boisterous tone.

Josh laughed and gathered her in a fierce hug.  Then he released her with a panicked look.  "God, I'm sorry.  Did I hurt you?"

Liz rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, Superman, you snapped me right in half with your super-human--"

"You know, it's good to see that absence really does make the heart grow fonder," Josh remarked, smirking down at her.

Leo shoved his hands in his pockets, oddly content to sit back and watch the byplay.

"Well, Josh, you were being an idiot," Liz retorted.  "I'm sick; I'm not breakable."

Josh's expression sobered.  "How are you?"

"Aside from my new status as the Breastless Wonder, you mean?"

Josh blanched.

"Oh, God, Josh," Liz laughed.  "Don't tell me you didn't notice.  It's fine, really.  I'll pick the flat-chested life over a killer rack and an early grave every time."

Josh shot Leo a helpless look, but Leo merely swallowed his smile and shrugged.  He was used to Liz's openness about her illness.  Hell, he'd rubbed her back and told her jokes as she vomited into a stainless steel pan in a hospital room in Boston, so Liz's brand of humor was nothing new to him.

"Okay," Josh said finally.

Liz's expression grew serious.  "I'm really okay, Josh.  My mom concurs.  I think I'm gonna beat it for good this time.  I just--"  She glanced away, then back.  "It's been months since I've felt this good, and tonight I just want to enjoy my family, my friends, and some chick you convinced to run for president."

Josh ducked his head and chuckled, while Liz and Leo exchanged pleased looks.

Liz put her hands on her hips and adopted an alarmingly cheerful tone.  "Are we ready to party like..."  She pursed her lips, then shrugged, "Well, like only a group of aging politicians can?"

Leo laughed outright, and Josh turned to him, asking without words if they were okay.  Leo dipped his chin, feeling that little flame of bitterness he'd been unable to get rid of since Seattle sputter and die.

Liz moved into the hallway, then paused, waiting for the two men to follow.  Josh reached the door, then turned back to Leo.

"The thing with Hoynes," Josh said, and Leo frowned, not knowing where the conversation was headed.  "The fifteen-point bump.  I learned all of that from you.  I owe that to you."

Josh held Leo's gaze for a moment, then brushed past Liz into the hallway.

"Leo?" Liz asked quietly, a compassionate expression on her face.

It took Leo a moment to find his voice.  "Yeah."  He waved a hand at her.  "I'll be there in a minute."

Liz smiled and pulled the door shut behind her, leaving Leo alone to compose himself.

***

Governor Douglas-Radford poured herself a glass of wine, returned the carafe to the sidebar, and took a sip.  Satisfied, she turned back to the party to find Jed Bartlet standing directly in front of her, holding a beer and grinning.

"That's quite a campaign staff you've assembled for yourself," Bartlet noted.

Douglas-Radford indicated Josh with a tilt of her head.  "Blame Josh; he's the mastermind."

Bartlet nodded sagely.  "He is, at that."

"I wasn't sure it was a wise decision," Douglas-Radford admitted, "using what is, essentially, your campaign staff and a good portion of your administration."

With a mock frown, he said, "What's wrong with my people?"

"Nothing, sir," Douglas-Radford laughed.  "They're the best out there."  She paused, taking a sip of wine to buy time.  She'd greatly admired the President when he was in office, and she'd been incredibly disillusioned when the truth about his Multiple Sclerosis broke.  She really didn't want to bring up the subject while she was a guest in his house.

Bartlet gave her an appraising look.  "And then there was Healthgate," he said, "and my people were dragged in front of the Senate Ethics Committee for months on end."

"Yes."  Douglas-Radford shifted uncomfortably.  "I've got to say, the name 'Healthgate' always sounded absurd to me.  It brings to mind a high stakes horse race."

"A high-stakes horse race.  I like that."  He looked away from her, his gaze traveling slowly over the occupants of the room.

"Sir," Douglas-Radford said, turning to face him more fully.  "I wonder if -- I'm not sure it's appropriate, but -- May I ask--"

"I'm fine," Bartlet interrupted, glancing over at her.  "Still in remission."

She let out a slow breath.  "That's wonderful, sir."

"I guess it is."

"I've wanted--"  She stopped, considered the weight of the subject matter versus the circumstances, and shook her head.  "Never mind."

"What is it?"

"I've just -- I've always felt bad about Healthgate, sir.  You were a damn good president; you did good things."  Douglas-Radford glanced away, then held his gaze and continued, "I just couldn't publicly support a lie, even one of omission.  But I do apologize for not extending my personal support to you; my only defense is that things spun quite quickly out of control."

Bartlet gave her a rueful grin.  "Yes, they did.  It was every man for himself, Governor.  It's not like I jotted down names for an enemies list."

She nodded, relieved.  "I would hate to be considered an enemy of yours, sir."  She took another sip of wine, then sighed, "I'm sorry, but -- every person, sir."

Bartlet frowned at her for a moment, then started laughing.  "Oh.  Yes.  Every person for his- or herself.  My apologies."  He caught sight of Leo wandering toward them and waved him over.  "Leo, come explain to the Governor the best ways to control your former staff."

Leo grinned.  "Your former staff, sir, and what ever gave you the impression that I had control over them?"

Douglas-Radford laughed outright.  "Good, then.  It's not just me."

"Nope," Leo confirmed.  "And you've got to watch out especially for those two.  They can get... single-minded about things sometimes."

Douglas-Radford followed Leo's gaze to Josh, talking animatedly to Toby, who looked stormy.  She nodded.  "Josh on a sugar high sure is entertaining, though.  Toby I haven't yet figured out.  He's like a little idealist playing the part of Oscar the Grouch."

Bartlet nodded.  "He'd probably like that description, considering his unseemly attachment to Sesame Street."

"Best way to deal with Toby Ziegler," Leo said, "is to make sure his considerable persuasive powers are being used for good."

Douglas-Radford nodded.  "Josh put him in charge of the voting initiative."

"Excellent," Bartlet declared.  "It saddens me to see our democracy threatened by voter apathy.  And I don't even believe it's apathy; I think Americans care a lot about the country.  They just don't believe we politicians do."

"Exactly," Douglas-Radford agreed.  "I intend to change that."

Leo lifted his sparkling water in a salute.  "Good on ya."

Douglas-Radford and Bartlet clinked their glasses with Leo's.

"Okay, then," Douglas-Radford said, after she took a sip of wine.  "Now we get to the fun part.  Any harmless yet humiliating blackmail material on these kids that you'd like to share?  I've got a particularly juicy tidbit involving Josh, two grad students, and a fast food restaurant."

Bartlet and Leo exchanged mischievous grins.  "Absolutely."

***

Charlie hesitated in the driveway, checking the cars until he spotted Zoey's Volkswagen.  Strange as it seemed to most of their friends, he and Zoey had managed to stay pretty close after their breakup.  There was the occasional awkward moment, of course, but on the whole, they got along better as friends than they ever had as lovers.

The sound of a voice in the yard startled Charlie, and he jerked around, squinting into the darkness.  He could barely make out what looked like a life-sized, dark-haired Ken doll.  Sam Seaborn, Charlie thought with a grin.  He tucked his hands into his pockets, leaned against a pillar on the front porch, and watched as Sam slowly made his way back toward the porch, shivering, with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

As Sam grew closer, he noticed Charlie and gave an excited wave, stepping up his pace.  Charlie noted with a small sigh of exasperation that Sam just seemed to get better looking with age.  It was unreal.

"Jesse?" Sam said into the phone, his breath white in the cold winter air.  "I've got to get back to this thing.  Yeah.  Okay.  Bye."  Sam flipped the phone shut and all but bounded up the stairs onto the porch.  "Charlie!"

Charlie offered his hand, but Sam pulled him into a quick hug.  "Sam.  Good to see you."  It really was.  Though Charlie stayed close with Zoey and the Bartlet family, he didn't see much of his former colleagues after they scattered to the winds.  He hadn't seen Sam since CJ and Evan's wedding.

"You too," Sam enthused.  "I didn't know if you'd be here tonight because--"  He faltered, looking uncertain.

"Because of me and Zoey?" Charlie asked, amused.  "Sam, we broke up two years ago."

"True," Sam acknowledged.  "How's Dartmouth?"

"Very white," Charlie grinned.  Northern New Hampshire was quite a change from D.C.

"I'd imagine it would be."

"Great school, though.  The economics program is wonderful."

Sam groaned.  "Please tell me you're not going to explain microeconomic theory to me."

"I'll leave that pleasure to the President.  He doesn't like it when I show him up."

Sam laughed out loud.  "You're still working on your master's?"

"Yeah, I'm writing my thesis," Charlie nodded.  "I'm thinking London School of Economics for my doctorate."

Sam's eyes widened.  "Wow."

"It's a good school."

"That's something of an understatement there, Charlie."

Charlie shrugged.  "Maybe.  I'm more interested in their international economics program.  The United States has historically used political cover stories to mask imperialistic attitudes and actions against third world countries.  I'm thinking I'll be able to get a less-biased understanding if I go to school somewhere outside the U.S."

Sam looked impressed.  "Fair point."

"Besides which, the President will have a harder time calling me up to give me pop quizzes on economic theories if I'm on a different continent," Charlie added with a grin.

Sam laughed.  "Speaking of, should we go inside?"

"Sure," Charlie nodded.

***

CJ spotted Eleanor Bartlet-Fennimore perched on the window seat at the far end of the room.  She looked very much the same as she always had, CJ thought, her hair just a little bit out of her control, her shoulders slightly slumped so as not to draw attention to herself.

Of all the people who'd been called in front of the Senate during the interminable Healthgate hearings, CJ knew it had been the hardest on Ellie.  An introvert, Ellie'd grown up surrounded by extroverts.  A shy young woman who wanted nothing to do with the fame that went hand in hand with her father's presidency, thrust suddenly into such an impossible circumstance.  Ellie had done well, though.  Her voice trembled, her hands shook visibly, and she looked woefully lost in that historic chamber, but her faith in her father had never wavered.

Josh and Toby had been borderline hostile; Leo, Sam, and CJ herself had been taciturn; but this little slip of a girl had refuted every accusation made against her father with the kind of quiet conviction that finally turned the tide.  No, Ellie Bartlet hadn't been able to save her father's re-election bid, but her bravery had been credited with averting a motion in the House to impeach.

CJ excused herself from Evan, Sam, and Charlie and crossed to Ellie, who looked up at her uncertainly.

"Hi, Ellie."  CJ touched the young woman's shoulder.  "How are you?"

"Good, CJ, thanks." Ellie scooted down a bit.  "Would you like to sit down?"

"Thanks."  CJ settled in, her gaze drifting to the pastoral view out the window -- a vast green lawn rolling all the way back to a small, crumbling stone wall, which held back the forest beyond.  Very New England.

"This place is gorgeous."

"Yeah, I miss it."

"You're in Montpelier, right?"

Ellie brightened.  "Yes.  It's a small hospital, but I love it.  Vermont's stunning."

CJ lowered her voice.  "I'm sure the lack of papparazzi doesn't hurt."

Laughing softly, Ellie nodded.  "Absolutely."

CJ's gaze caught on the modest diamond Ellie wore.  "How's married life treating you?"

Ellie blushed a little.  "We're very happy.  Nick wanted to be here, but we've taken so much time off already to help out with Annie."

"Help out with Annie?"

"My parents wanted someone to be here with her while they spent time in Boston with Liz. Zoey and I have been sort of... taking shifts."

"Annie's seventeen." CJ grinned.

"Hey, take that up with my father," Ellie chucked.  "Annie's been an adult since she was twelve."

Glancing around the room, CJ caught sight of Annie Bartlet, Liz's beautiful daughter whose poise and grace was characteristic of the Bartlet women.  Annie stood with Abbey, chatting up the current Governor of New Hampshire while Jed Bartlet looked on, beaming paternally.

"Your dad's a wonderful grandfather," CJ commented, remembering a certain crème de caramel-fueled conversation about grandfathers' devotion to their grandkids.  "He's almost obsessive, actually -- Ellie?"

Ellie buried her face in her hands, her light brown hair providing a convenient curtain as CJ watched.

"Ellie?  I'm sorry; did I say something wrong?"

"No," Ellie mumbled, peering up at CJ.  "Nothing like that.  It's just..."  She sighed and dropped her hands.

CJ wasn't sure what she was expecting -- tears maybe -- but the ear-to-ear grin on Ellie's face was definitely not it.  And then it clicked, and CJ's eyes widened.

"Wait -- you're--"

"We're not telling people yet," Ellie said quickly.  She was still grinning uncontrollably.  "This is Liz's night."

"How far along are you?" CJ's smile was just as goofy as Ellie's.

"Thirteen weeks.  The timing's really not that great -- I'm still only halfway through my residency, but..."  She shrugged.

"Oh, Ellie, I'm so happy for you."  CJ leaned in and gave the younger woman a quick hug.

"Me too," Ellie admitted, trying in vain to bring the glowing back under control.

"Do your parents know?"

"Are you kidding?  If I told them, the entire room would know within five minutes."

"Fair point."  CJ bit her lip, but it didn't work.  She kept right on smiling.  "So I guess I should keep my mouth shut, huh?"

Ellie placed her hand on CJ's arm.  "Thank you, CJ.  You were always so nice to me, and I just... I wanted to tell someone!"

"Perfectly understandable," CJ answered.  "When are you--"

"Nick's coming down tomorrow.  We'll tell everyone then."  Ellie composed herself a bit and then said.  "So when do I get to meet Evan?  I loved Altimetrical; is that really how you two met?"

***

Temporarily hiding out in the far corner of the room, Abbey spotted Josh standing alone by the sidebar.  She caught his eye and waved him over, patting the empty spot on the loveseat beside her.  Reluctantly, Josh made his way through the small throngs of people and hesitated when he reached her.

Abbey rose from her seat and pulled him into a hug, noting the tension in his frame.  "Josh, it's so good to see you."  She settled back down, rescuing her glass of merlot from its precarious perch on the edge of the end table.

"Hello, ma'am."  Josh smiled somewhat bashfully.  "You look wonderful."

"Sit down, Josh," she said, exasperated.  He complied, and a less experienced eye might not have noticed the way he favored his right leg or the careful way he held his back.  Abbey gave him a clinical once over.  "You haven't been doing your physical therapy, have you?"

"Ma'am, I--"

"Do you understand how important it is to keep yourself healthy, Josh?  You had major surgery.  Your heart, your lungs -- you've got to keep in good shape."

He gave her that familiar smirk.  "I have no shortage of admirers, ma'am; I assure you, there's nothing wrong with my shape."

Abbey rolled her eyes.  "It's good to see your ego's still quite healthy."

"I'm fine," Josh told her.  "Seriously, ma'am."

"Oh, call me Abbey," she corrected impatiently.  She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head a bit, studying his face.  "You're not sleeping enough.  Or eating enough, from the looks."

Uncomfortable, Josh ducked his head and chuckled.  "Well, Dr. Bartlet, if you're done with the--"

"Josh," she said quietly.

He sighed and looked up.  "There's some stiffness, and you're right, I don't do my physical therapy as often as I should, but--"

"But nothing, Josh.  How many hours of sleep would you say you get per night?"

"Enough."

"Josh."

He squirmed a little in his seat.  "Five or six."

Abbey stared at him for a long moment.  "That's not enough."

He gave her an incredulous look.  "Ma'am, I'm running a campaign for the presidency.  I don't know if you remember, but--"

"I remember," she answered.  "And I remember May 17, 2000, pretty clearly too.  Is it the PTSD?"

Josh froze for a moment.  "Is--"  He stopped, swallowed, started over.  "Is what the PTSD?"

"Is that the reason you're not sleeping?  Are you having nightmares?"

"No."  He answered too quickly, then ran a hand over his face and laughed a little.  "I should've listened to your husband."

Abbey arched an eyebrow.  "He warned you to stay away from me or I'd take your temperature the hard way?"  The horrified look on his face was downright comical.  Abbey laughed and shook her head.  "Don't worry, Josh.  I didn't bring my little black bag to the party."

"'Kay," he said, still eyeing her warily.

She took a slow sip of wine, then smoothly changed the subject.  "That was a hell of a campaign, Josh."

His expression shifted from unease to full-blown panic.  "Which campaign?"

Abbey laughed outright, patting his knee gently to anchor him; he looked about ready to flee.  "Well, this one's not over yet, I don't suppose you want to discuss 2002, and I think you've had more than enough praise for 1998 to last you a lifetime."

It took him a moment to make the connection, and then his brow furrowed in consternation. "The gubernatorial campaign?"

"Yes."

"You paid attention to a gubernatorial campaign in Pennsylvania?"

"Yes."

Josh watched her, uncertain.  "Okay."

Abbey curbed the urge to shake some sense into him.  "Why does that surprise you?"

"Because..."  He trailed off, unable to come up with a response.  "It does," he finished lamely.

"It shouldn't," Abbey told him firmly.  "That was quite a feat, balancing the labor unions in southwestern and central Pennsylvania and the progressives in the cities.  The pundits were all very impressed by the delicate balance she struck."

"Yeah, we just unilaterally bashed Big Business, which seemed to work for the unions and the environmentalists," he answered absently.  "I really didn't think any of you would care to watch."

Abbey abandoned her wine glass and took hold of his hand.  "Did you honestly think any of us would have been so hurt when you left if we didn't care about you?"

He ducked his head and mumbled something non-committal.

Frustrated, Abbey let her gaze slide away from him and toward the small crowd.  Donna stood at the edge of a small group of people, participating in the conversation with half of her attention.  The other half was focused on the man slumped beside Abbey.

Abbey elbowed Josh sharply.  "You've been moping around this whole time, haven't you?" she demanded.

Josh looked up, startled.  "What?"

"You have been," Abbey pinned him in place with an imperious look.  "You've been slinking around CJ and Sam and Toby and Donna--"  Abbey didn't miss the slight flinch when Josh heard Donna's name--  "And expecting them to remember at any moment that they hate you, right?"

"No," Josh lied.

Abbey leaned closer to him and lowered her voice.  "They never hated you.  People don't stop loving their friends when their friends do stupid things.  They were hurt and angry, but they still love you."  She waited, letting that sink in.  "Every single one of them.  Don't spend your time beating yourself up over something that happened years ago.  The best way to make it up to them is to be the Josh Lyman they missed for three years."

Josh nodded dumbly, still processing her words.

Abbey smiled at him.  "Would you like a drink?"

He blinked at her.  "What?"

"A drink?"

"No.  Thanks.  I'm good."

Abbey nodded and rose to her feet.  She leaned back in to get her wineglass and then tapped Josh on the shoulder.  When he looked up at her, she grinned.  "You should really talk to Donna."

***

Donna stared at the pictures on the Bartlet's mantel and marveled at how many of them were familiar.  Even the snapshots of a teenaged Jed Bartlet were recognizable from the Bartlet For America campaign literature.  Family photographs of Liz, Ellie, Zoey and Annie at various ages had all appeared -- usually without the First Family's permission -- in any number of magazine articles and TV specials.  But it was a photograph she'd never seen before that caught her attention.  She took it down from its place of honor and held it almost reverently.

For a moment, the sense of loss overwhelmed her as completely as it had in National Cathedral four years ago.

"She'd be very proud of what you've done with your life," a voice said from behind her.

Donna spun around, an expression somewhere between embarrassment and shock frozen on her face.  "Mr. President!"

Jed Bartlet's sigh was somewhat at odds with his smile.  "I don't suppose I'll have any more luck convincing you that my name isn't 'Mr. President' than I've had with anyone else, will I?"

"No, sir."  Donna used her free hand to gesture toward the photo she still held.  "Mrs. Landingham trained me too well."

"Margaret said as much to me earlier.  I'm beginning to believe this 'Mr. President' thing has less to do with you people being humbled by my former status as Commander in Chief than it does with your feelings toward Delores Landingham."

Donna looked back down at the photograph.  For three years, Mrs. Landingham's unique combination of deference toward the office of the President and affectionate sarcasm toward the occupant of the Oval Office had been the role model for all the White House support staff.  For Donna, who had spent those years trying to figure out her place in the world, Mrs. Landingham had been an especially powerful model.

"She was especially fond of you," he said gently.

"She was fond of all the assistants, sir.  She was very careful not to play favorites."

"True, but -- There's a story I should have told you a long time ago.  My only excuse is that at first I was too immersed in my own grief to consider anyone else's loss.  And after that, well, events did overtake us all rather swiftly."

"Yes, sir."

"However, this would seem like a good time to make amends."  He took the photo from Donna's hands, placing it back on the mantel.  Then he led Donna to a nearby sofa, gesturing for her to take a seat.  "So," he began, sitting down next to her, "our story begins in Charleston, South Carolina, during the 1998 campaign.  Josh Lyman had just mysteriously acquired a new assistant.  A pretty blonde assistant."

Donna found herself blushing, thinking back to what her sudden presence in Josh's life must have looked like to this man she had idolized so much that she'd traveled halfway across the country to work for him.

"Naturally," Bartlet continued, "I was curious.  Also skeptical.  I apologize for the conclusions I jumped to back then, Donna.  I plead ignorance.  I didn't know you; in fact, I barely knew Josh.  If I had, I would have realized that he'd no more take advantage of your situation than you would have allowed him to take advantage."

Donna, who remembered several incidents during that campaign that might have changed the President's opinion, blushed.

"So," Bartlet said, "I expressed my disapproval to the nearest person.  Who, luckily for me, happened to be Delores Landingham.  As it turned out, she'd had a few questions of her own.  I take it she'd already given you the third degree?"

"Well, I wouldn't have called it that, sir.  But she did ask some questions.  She just sort of popped up about an hour after Josh hired me.  I had no idea who she was.  But there was something about the way she carried herself, you know?  It just made it clear that she was important.  I remember that she seemed more worried about me than anything.  And she gave me a cookie."  Donna smiled at the memory.  "Which meant I'd passed inspection, though I didn't know it at the time."

"You did more than pass," the former President said.  "You impressed her.  Which, as we know, was not an easy thing to do.  She thought you were an intelligent young woman and that you could hold your own with Josh, which of course turned out to be the case.  And she was especially impressed that you'd had the courage to drive all the way to New Hampshire to join us.  I remember her telling me, 'That girl's going to make something of herself, and you'll be doing good to let her start out here.'"

Donna blinked back the tears gathering in her eyes.  "Really?  Mrs. Landingham said that?"

"She used to watch you more carefully than she watched the other assistants, I think because you reminded her a little of herself as a young woman.  You were quick and you didn't hesitate to say what was on your mind.  She was always like that too.  That's why I think she'd be especially proud of what you've accomplished.  You have options that weren't available to Delores Landingham when she was young, and you've made the most of them.  You've turned into the polished, educated woman I know she wanted you to be."

"I hope so, sir.  I'd really like to believe I've made her proud."

"Believe it.  Of course, knowing Mrs. Landingham, she'd take you to task about one aspect of your life."

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

Jed Bartlet looked across the room, to where his wife was talking to Josh.  "Mrs. Landingham was always especially fond of our prodigal there too," he said enigmatically.

***

They'd had a ritual about parties, back in the White House.  Like most of their rituals, Donna reflected, she and Josh had fallen into it before they'd realized what they were doing.  And they'd never talked about it, never said "this is the thing we do when we go to parties."  She wasn't even sure Josh thought about it as a ritual or that he'd remember it.  Or that he'd think this evening would be incomplete without it.  But, she thought, it would be worth seeing if he remembered.

So she found an empty room and she waited for him.

It took him all of five minutes to find her, which she thought was promising.  Unless, of course, it was a complete coincidence, his wandering into the room she'd found.

But then he smiled at her, and she didn't think it was a coincidence at all.

Just like he'd done dozens of times before, he took a seat far enough away from her that they weren't in any danger of touching but close enough so that their conversation still had a curious air of intimacy to it.  "I hate parties," he said.

She took a sip of wine and smiled.  That was part of the ritual, Josh saying that.  It was his excuse:  He didn't walk away from the festivities because he wanted to spend time alone with her; he walked away because he hated parties. So she gave her standard answer.

"You love parties," she said.  "As long as you're the center of attention."

He was now supposed to come back with some long-suffering variation on the theme of how all the parties he went to were for work; they weren't really even parties at all.  And she'd roll her eyes and make some comment about how that was the only kind of party he went to because he had no life outside of work and he didn't know how to relax and then she'd segue into some esoteric factoid that she'd memorized specifically for the occasion.  He'd pretend to be annoyed, but he'd keep asking her questions or interjecting his own opinion and they'd keep talking about nonsense until someone wandered in -- someone always wandered in -- and interrupted them.  And she'd act completely unperturbed about the interruption; she'd make some joke about going to find people who were having actual fun and she'd leave him.  And when someone asked her later whether she'd enjoyed herself at the party, she wouldn't even realize that her level of enjoyment was completely dependent on how much time she'd been able to spend alone with Josh.

So she was thrown when he varied the routine.

"Seriously," he said, "this has been uncomfortable."

That worried her, not just because it threw her off her game when he started to act like the man she'd fallen in love with seven years ago and then suddenly became this other person she didn't know very well yet, but because she'd been watching him all evening and she'd thought things were going fine.

"I talked to Leo and to the President," she said tentatively, "and they both seemed really happy to see you."

"That's not what I mean," he replied.  "Or maybe it is what I mean.  Don't get me wrong; I'm glad they didn't, you know, kick me out--"

"Translation:  you're relieved to find out that all is forgiven."

"Well, yeah, but it's weird, you know?  I mean, it's like finding out I wasted the last three years.  I could have been with all of you and I was so convinced that you all hated me that I didn't even try to make amends and, you know, feel free to stop me any time."

"Why?  I'm enjoying this.  It's like getting to say 'I told you so' without using the actual words."

He grinned at her, which she supposed was as close to an acknowledgment of her right to say "I told you so" as she could expect, and continued, "It's all so strange, like I'm suddenly in a parallel universe, you know?"

"Oh, good. I have so missed the mini-physics lectures."

"I mean, in some ways it's like I never left.  This room, for instance -- we sat in this very room on election night, remember?  You were rambling on about Tudor England."

"You remember what I talked about that night?"

"Yeah, you'd just read some book about Elizabeth I and--"

"You remember what I talked about in the middle of -- Josh, the election results weren't even final when we had that conversation."

"So?"

"All you cared about was whether or not we were going to carry California and Texas.  I didn't think you even heard anything I said, much less that you'd remember it."

He shrugged.  "It was the only conversation I had on election night that didn't center around the popular versus the electoral vote.  Anyway, my point is that this room is just like it was then and all the same people are here, but everything's changed.  Annie grew up; when did that happen?  It's like she turned into Zoey.  And it's just weird to hear Zoey talking about this guy she's dating who isn't Charlie.  CJ's married, and who the hell knows what's going on with Sam, and you and I--"

"Are not the same either.  Which is not necessarily a bad thing."

"Why not?  What the hell was wrong with us before?"

Many things, she thought, but none of them were items she wanted to share with Josh at the moment.  "It's not that things were so bad then," she said.  "It's just that you can't expect anyone to stand still for three years.  People do change.  You've changed too, Josh."

"I really haven't."

"Maybe it doesn't feel like it to you, but the rest of us can see definite changes."

"Is this going to be another lecture about my health?  Because I already got that from Dr. Bartlet."

"Good.  I hope you listened for once.  But what I meant was that you're much more guarded than you used to be.  I could always tell what you were thinking.  Always.  Half the time now, I haven't got a clue."

"I could say exactly the same thing about you."

This struck her as odd because she believed her feelings for Josh were still much too obvious.  Maybe, she thought, she'd finally gotten the hang of that whole misdirection thing.  She wondered whether that was a sign of progress or not.  Whatever, she thought, maybe it was time to make another change in the ritual.  She stood up, walked over to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Consider that your first clue," she said as she walked out the door.

***

Toby swirled his drink, sending the ice cubes in endless circles in the amber liquid.  Sam had been regaling him with tales from San Francisco for the better part of ten minutes; and while Toby would normally bludgeon his former deputy to death for the blatant waste of time and energy (a café named The Coffee Fairy, Toby thought, was entirely too cutesy to be for real), in his own grumpy way, Toby had almost missed the way Sam rambled on when left unattended.  Especially after a couple drinks.

"I just don't know that I'd like it, you know?" Sam finished.

Toby blinked, attempting to recall the last six or seven paragraphs of Sam's little speech.  Unfortunately, it wasn't lying helpfully around in text format with Toby's edits in red ink.

Toby frowned.  "Huh?"

"I'm saying, I'm not sure I'd want to give this up."

With a mental eye roll, Toby asked, "Give what up?"

"My life in San Francisco," Sam answered, sounding a little hurt at Toby's lack of attention.  "I'm a professional agitator."

"Right," Toby nodded.  Actually, Sam had done pretty well with the agitating for change trip.  He'd brought a case to the California Supreme Court to strike down Proposition 22, an anti-gay, 'defense of marriage' measure that had passed in the reactionary wake of Vermont's civil union law.

"Do you remember what it was like?" Sam demanded.  "The intense press coverage.  The way we had to defend every aspect of our lives?"

"Your life," Toby corrected, his attention wandering again.  "And the reason you had to defend it is that you slept with a prostitute and got caught."

As Sam segued smoothly into his she's-a-call-girl-not-a-prostitute routine, Toby's gaze caught on Josh.  He was standing at the edge of a small group near the door, and he didn't look like he was trying to sidle through it, which was an improvement.  When Toby got his first glimpse of Josh as they congregated in the hotel lobby, he'd seriously considered one of those leashes parents put on their kids to ensure that Josh didn't slink off and disappear.

It appeared, though, that both President Bartlet and Leo had talked to Josh; and although the prodigal still looked uncomfortable, he no longer seemed poised for flight.

In fact, Toby thought, narrowing his eyes, he looked enraptured.  And not by the conversation.  Josh held a glass of wine, but he hadn't taken a sip in quite some time.  He just stood there.  Staring.

Following Josh's gaze, Toby was monumentally unsurprised to see Donna Moss laughing with Zoey and Liz.  As Toby watched, Donna's gaze strayed to Josh, and the two shared small, hesitant smiles.

Oh, dear, Toby thought.  It really was not the time to get into that tangled web of emotional chaos.

"Toby!"

Startled, Toby turned to Sam.  "What?"

"Did you hear a word I just said?"

"Your impersonation of my ex-wife just gets better with the years, Sam."

Sam stared at him.  "Was that a joke?"

"I have been known to make them, yes."

"Huh."

Toby sighed.  "What were you blathering on about?"

Sam watched him for a moment, then said, "I was saying that I'm not sure I want to go back to the White House."

The corners of Toby's mouth twitched.  "Really?"

"Yeah," Sam replied.  "I mean, in some ways it was amazing, but the compromises were so disheartening."

Toby made a noise that could be interpreted as encouraging.

Sam nodded, "Yes, and then there's the scrutiny.  I'm not sure I'd like to be back under that particular microscope."  He frowned.  "I'm not ashamed of my life, but I don't want to have to justify it to anyone else."

By this point, Toby was sporting a full-on grin, with a gruff chuckle to match.

Sam glared at him.  "What?"

"Sam, we don't even know if we're gonna win a single primary, never mind the nomination, never mind the general election!  And even if we win all of those things, who says there's going to be a job for you on the other side?  The Governor has a staff!"

Sam frowned.  "I never thought of it that way."

Toby shook his head.  "This campaign is good, but you're doing the right thing out there on the West Coast."

"I am?" Sam asked reflexively.

"Yes," Toby answered gruffly.  "Now go away."

***

Josh shook his head, frustrated.  "That's not what we're doing."

From his seat directly across from Josh, Leo grinned.  "I know.  But that's what it looks like you're doing."

"What does it look like we're doing?" Sam asked, settling next to Leo with that old, eager expression in place.

Josh gave him a sour look.  "Leo says we're spending too much time bashing Big Business."

Sam considered that for a moment. " Well, maybe a little.  Mostly the problem is that because we're bashing Big Business and playing up the special interest groups, it looks like they control our puppet strings."

"Control our puppet strings?" CJ asked, amused, as she joined the conversation, leaning her elbows on the back of the couch next to Josh.  "I'll never understand how your ability to write isn't reflected in your speech."

"Hey," Sam protested, grinning.

Josh caught Leo's eye, and for a moment it was like 2002 never happened.  Then Leo hid his smile in a sip of tea, and Josh felt a strange tightening in his chest.

"Josh?"

Josh twisted in his seat to find Jed Bartlet beckoning for him.  Leaving Leo looking on as CJ and Sam bickered, Josh met Bartlet halfway across the room.

"Josh, Liz just told me about the cards and the flowers and the stuffed platypus--"

"Sir," Josh interrupted, flushing.

Bartlet didn't say anything, waiting for Josh to stop fidgeting and meet his gaze.  "Thank you, Josh.  It means a lot to me that you kept Liz in your thoughts."

Unable to speak, Josh merely nodded.

Bartlet patted him on the back then turned and raised his voice.  "Friends."

Josh grinned outright, recognizing that Jed Bartlet was warming up for one of his little speeches.  Across the room, Donna stood with Toby, and Josh watched, amused, as Toby downed the rest of his scotch in anticipation.  Donna met Josh's eyes and they shared a small, knowing smile.

"Friends," Bartlet said again, "I want to thank you all for being here tonight.  In honor of my granddaughter, Annie, who told me that I talk more than any ten people she knows and would I please not start rambling in the middle of the party," he paused for the ripple of laughter, "I will endeavor to keep this short."

Josh's smile widened into a smirk.  Jed Bartlet was incapable of keeping a speech short.  From her position against the opposite wall, Donna flashed him what started out as a warning look but ended up as an answering grin.  The mere idea of Jed Bartlet speaking briefly was enough to send anyone who knew him into paroxysms of laughter.

Imperiously ignoring the muffled laughter and knowing smirks, Bartlet turned to Douglas-Radford and her husband, sitting on the far side of the room.  "Governor, I know only too well the stress that you're under right now.  I've watched your progress in the Democratic party, and I would love to see you sworn in next January.  That big white house that I vacated three years ago is in dire need of a compassionate, intelligent, and able chief to steer this country back on course, and I believe that you, ma'am, are uniquely suited to the task."

Douglas-Radford beamed at him and nodded, while her husband murmured his thanks.  For his part, Josh felt like this challenge, this campaign, had been given a mark of distinction.

"I owe you a considerable debt too," Bartlet told Douglas-Radford, who looked perplexed.  "You brought the prodigal back into the lives of the people who missed him dearly."

Josh did his best to blend in with the wallpaper, but all eyes in the room swung in his direction.

"Josh," Bartlet said, giving him a small smile, "I'm sure Donna will kill me later for feeding that ego of yours, but just know that it warms my heart to see you find your way home.  I'm no less grateful now than I was on a particularly terrifying night almost six years ago."

Josh swallowed hard and dropped his gaze.  Then he locked eyes with Donna, who looked suspiciously emotional.  She managed not to cry, though, which impressed Josh at the same time it disappointed him.  The Donna of years gone by had been unabashedly emotional, but she'd had to curb that tendency to successfully handle the press.

After a moment, Bartlet asked, "Was that okay, Donna?"

Startled, Donna glanced over at him and laughed.  "Yes, sir."

Bartlet threw up his hands.  "Jed.  My name is Jed."

CJ, Sam, Donna, Toby, and Josh exchanged an array of grins before responding with a chorus of "Yes, sir."

The rest of the room erupted into laughter as Bartlet attempted to look angry.  "Anyway," he said with one last mock glare, "tonight has been wonderful.  I've missed all of you, even as I've marveled at the new and exciting paths you're traveling.  CJ's work with the Feminist Majority Foundation, and her marriage to Evan; the way Sam's managed to build a successful law firm and still devote most of his time to pro bono work; Toby's ability to teach jaded college students without killing them."  He gave Toby a grin.  "I particularly feel your pain, Toby."

Toby jangled the ice cubes in his glass together.  "Remind me to tell you about the paper one of my students wrote on the sound economic foundations of Baker's tax cut in 2002."

Bartlet grimaced, "Sound economic foundations?  I don't understand how anyone with half a brain can look at a check from the IRS against next year's taxes as a good idea.  Never mind the preposterous notion that families struggling to get by in a slipping economy will receive a check for $600 and go buy a DVD player to boost the economy instead of food and shoes for their children.  In fact--"

"Sir," Leo interrupted with a pained look.

"Fine, fine," Bartlet answered, walking slowly towards Liz, who stood with Zoey and Ellie.  "You all know the real reason for the celebration tonight is my beautiful, intelligent, loving daughter, Liz, who has proven her indomitable will and herculean strength twice in three years."  Bartlet drew his daughter toward him, hugging her to his side.  "Honey, you are an inspiration -- stronger by far than I've ever been, and your accomplishments far outshadow mine."

Tears tracking slowly down her cheeks, Liz turned and embraced her father, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Every day," Bartlet continued, pulling Ellie to his other side, and holding a hand out for Zoey, "I thank God that my three amazing daughters are around to gang up on me with my dear wife, Abigail, when I'm being an insufferable jackass."

Abbey grinned at her husband.  "And it happens at least once every day, believe me," she told the crowd, who laughed appreciatively.  The three Bartlet daughters nodded their agreement, smiling all the while.

Bartlet caught Leo's eye.  "Why do I put up with this?"

Leo grinned.  "Because you know they're right."

Bartlet smiled.  "Ah," he said.  "I always forget that part.  Now before Annie vaults over the back of that couch to strangle me into silence, I'd like to propose a toast."

He paused while his guests scrambled for their drinks.

"To a rousing and successful campaign -- may you clean up the House that Baker has sullied.  To my former staff, the most energetic and fearless group I've ever had the pleasure of working with.  To absent friends," he met Josh's eyes, "and friends too long absent.  And finally, to Liz Bartlet, for deciding to stick around a few more decades.  Honey, your mother, your daughter, your sisters and I will be forever grateful."

In the smattering of enthusiastic applause, glasses clinking together, and renewed conversation, Josh made his way to Donna.  Toby saw him coming, gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and melted away.

Josh reached her side and hesitated, then held out his arms awkwardly.  Eyes sparkling with tears, Donna stepped into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Donna," Josh whispered, "we've got a primary in two days and this is absolutely not the time for this, but I need you to know that I love you."

He felt her gasp against him, and her arms tightened momentarily, and then she was pulling away, wide-eyed.  "Josh?"

"Later," he promised.  He kissed her gently on the forehead and slipped away.

THE END

08.13.01