November 6, 2002

"Calling to gloat?" Josh asked.

Don't take it personally, Donna reminded herself.  Josh never reacted well to losing.  This loss not only marked a huge personal defeat for him, it gave the White House -- their White House -- to the Republicans for the next four years.  It was 3 a.m., and she doubted he'd gotten more than five hours sleep over the course of the last week.  His new assistant -- whoever that might be -- was obviously not taking sufficient care of him.  She should work on directing her anger toward her replacement, not toward Josh.

"Don't be an ass, Josh."

She could hear him, all those miles away in Texas, laughing.  His voice sounded raspy and uncertain, as though he hadn't tried laughing in a very long while and wasn't sure how to produce that sound anymore.

"See?" he said.  "This is what I miss.  All that empathy and unconditional support."

"Yes, I'm sure you're quite lost without me," she answered.  She was going for her best lighthearted riposte, but it had been three months and she'd pretty much lost the banter vibe.

There was a moment's silence, during which Donna wondered if he was regretting telling her so much about his mental state.

"So," he finally said, "is there a point to this call?"

"I just wanted to see if you were okay.  Plus, you know, say I'm sorry Hoynes lost."

"Yeah, I'm sure you guys are all just brokenhearted over that."

"Four years of Gregory W. Baker to look forward to?" she replied, more than matching his sarcasm.  "We're all simply thrilled with the outcome of this election.  Toby in particular is giddy as a school girl what with anticipating the moment Ann Stark comes to pick out her office."

"I can imagine."  She thought she could detect the beginnings of actual amusement in his voice.  "What about the others?"

Donna smiled, settled back in her chair and proceeded to tell him every vaguely amusing tidbit she could recall about the people he had once worked with.  God knew there had been relatively few lighthearted moments during the last three months, but she'd embellish as much as necessary to get Josh laughing again.

When Donna had exhausted her repertoire of amusing anecdotes, the silence settled over them once more.  She was perilously close to blurting out that she could be on the next plane to Texas if he wanted when he spoke.  "So," he asked, "what are they all going to do come January?"

"Oh, well now, this is interesting," she said.  "Sam's going back to practicing law, probably in California."

"Sam's never taken the California bar exam."

"Look who's talking."

"Hey, I'll have you know I passed the New York bar exam first time out.  And with a damned impressive score."

"I'm sure you did," she said in her best "I'm humoring my unreasonable boss" tone.  "But Sam's going to take a month or two off to study, take the exam and act like a real lawyer again."

"You'd think he would have had enough of lawyers in the last year."

"What Sam claims he's had enough of in the last year is politicians."

"Fair point."

"Toby's got two offers.  That cable news thing he was so pissed at Leo about, or teaching some sort of seminar at NYU.  He's leaning toward NYU, I think.  Sam's tormenting him with stories about the lack of punctuation in undergrad writing, so he's holding out until they promise him graduate assistants to handle the grading."

"And CJ?"

"National spokeswoman for the Feminist Majority."

"CJ's staying in DC?"

"No, moving back to California.  She worked out a deal.  They let her open up a headquarters in the Bay Area, and she travels to DC to put out fires as needed.  She says it's amazing what people will give you when your resume includes the words 'former White House Press Secretary.'"

"So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where are you going?"

That depends on you, doesn't it? she thought.  She decided that was much too pathetic to say.  "Berkeley."

"Berkeley?  College?  You're going back to college?"

"Yes."

"That's good.  Better than good.  You should do that."  She thought she detected a lack of enthusiasm in his voice and wondered if he thought she couldn't cut it in Berkeley.

"CJ thinks I'll do fine," she said defensively.

"Of course you will.  I didn't mean -- Are you sure you can afford Berkeley?"

"You'd be amazed the amount of scholarship money they throw at you when the President of the United States writes you a letter of recommendation."

"Oh.  Well then."

"So what about you?  Have you made plans?" she asked.

She heard him sigh.  "I'm figuring two weeks to take care of the loose ends here.  Or less.  Not real fond of Texas."

"I recall."

"After that, I don't know.  Sleep.  I'd really like to sleep for a month or so.  Go see my mom."

"That will be good for you."

"Not based on our last three conversations.  She had twenty-seven variations on 'Joshua, you're an idiot.'"

"She didn't like you working for Hoynes?"

"That too," he replied cryptically.  Another moment's silence, then he said, "God, Donna, I really fucked up, didn't I?"

"You did what you thought was right."

"And look where it got me."

"Josh, John Hoynes never stood a chance.  He was twenty-three percent behind coming out of the convention.  Last night, he only lost by eight percent.  And Seth Gillette took seven percent of the popular vote.  You only had three months to put Hoynes' campaign together, and you nearly pulled off a win.  That's a huge accomplishment."

"You'd be surprised how little 'nearly' counts for in this business."

"Still.  I thought it was pretty incredible."

"Sadly, we do not live in a world where Donnatella Moss writes the op-ed pieces in the Times."

"Not yet anyway."

"Oh, God.  Not another change of major?"

"No.  Sticking with the political science major.  Communication minor."

"I let you spend too much time with CJ."

"Let?"

"Bad choice of words?"

"Extremely."

Another silence.  He was, she thought, this close to asking her to come to Texas.  She smiled to herself and waited.  "Look, Donna, it was sweet of you to call.  I appreciate it.  But I'm pretty exhausted."

She swallowed her disappointment.  "Of course you are."

"I need to hang up now."

"Of course you do."

"So--"

"So."

"Thanks."

"Sure.  No problem."

"Good luck with Berkeley."

Good luck? she thought. We're leaving this at "good luck"?

"Thanks," she said.  "Hey, tell your mom hi."

"Yeah."

"Good night, Joshua."

"Goodbye, Donnatella."

***

Josh clicked "end" and then stared at the phone in his hand.

Twenty-three minutes.

He talked to Donnatella Moss for twenty-three minutes, and the miniscule amount of progress he'd made -- all the trying to forget, all the blocking out of certain memories, all the carefully cultivated numbness -- all shot to hell.  A twenty-three minute conversation with Donna, and three months' work gone.

Actually, it was more like ten seconds.  The moment she spoke, every second he spent in her arms, every radiant smile she'd flashed, every sarcastic barb underlined with caring she'd tossed his way came back in one searing flash.  In the next second, the rest of it returned: everything he'd left -- President Bartlet, Leo, CJ, Sam, Toby -- all his regrets came into sharp focus.

Which is why he'd only made it twenty-three minutes.  He wished he'd kept her on the phone for hours.  Days even.  But his entire being had been screaming for him to beg, to grovel, to ask if maybe, possibly she could one day partially forgive him.  And she'd been recounting amusing anecdotes.  Somehow, he figured his pleas would fall on, if not deaf, then certainly uninterested ears.

He wanted to tell her he'd be there in four hours.  He wanted to toss his shit in a bag, drive like a lunatic to the airport, and stalk the ticket booths until he could get a flight to DC.  But he knew he couldn't handle hearing her tell him not to come.  Maybe he was a coward, but he couldn't ask the question because he knew hearing the answer would destroy what fragile sense of self he had left after The Hoynes Fiasco.

The cell phone rang, and Josh was so shocked he dropped it.  He stood, staring down at it as if it were a particularly poisonous snake as an irrational wave of hope broke over him.  Maybe Donna was calling to ask him to come back.  His hand shook as he reached down for the phone.  Josh was pretty sure his mother would kill him if she could hear the anguished moan he emitted upon seeing her number on the caller I.D.  Then again, considering the tenor of their conversations over the past three months, perhaps she would dance a jig and tell him to get his ass on a plane for DC, tout de suite.

Josh answered the phone.

"My dear boy," Adira Lyman said, "did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yes."  He hated the defensive note in his voice.

"Ten minutes doesn't count," she argued.  "You sound like hell."

"I'm fine."

"Joshua--"

"Donna says hi," he said, hoping to distract her from the mother-hen routine.  It was rare that Adira Lyman resorted to pestering him, but she was damn good at it when she tried.  Of course, Josh realized his mistake too late.

Adira said carefully, "You talked to Donna?"

"She called," he answered shortly.  "You know, about the election.  Look, I have to--"

"Josh."

Misdirection never quite worked with his mother.  Josh sighed.  "What?"

"Did you apologize?"

Josh considered the question.  "In a manner of speaking," he decided.  Admitting he was wrong was, for him, tantamount to an apology.

"That means you didn't," Adira guessed.  "Call her back."

"Mom!"

"I'm serious.  Call her back, Josh.  She reached out to you, and you didn't even apologize for walking out--"

"I didn't walk out," Josh interrupted angrily.

"Josh," Adira snapped, "be a man.  Own your mistakes."

"It wasn't--"

"Josh," she repeated, and this time she sounded heartbroken.  "My dear boy, you've been miserable for three months without them; without her.  I know you felt that you couldn't call them, but she reached out and--"

"I can't, Mom," Josh managed.  He fiercely rubbed at his eyes.  "Just -- please don't lecture me on this."

Adira held her peace for a long moment.  "You need to talk about it, but I am not going to push.  You're stressed, overtired, and bitterly disappointed.  When are you coming home?"

"Mom, my condo--"

"You're coming to Connecticut, Josh."  Her tone brooked no argument.  "You need a break, and you need some brownies.  You looked positively gaunt on TV last night."

"Yeah," Josh agreed tiredly.  "Fine."

"Joshua, I love you and I want you to be happy.  Please consider--"

"She's better off without me," he answered hollowly.  Adira let the subject drop, and Josh begged off.  Josh tossed the phone onto the bed.  He was sure he was right.  He flopped down, face first and within easy reach of the phone.  Donna deserved better.  She had deserved better three months ago when he walked out, and she sure as hell deserved better now.

He, on the other hand, deserved to be alone and miserable.  Which, conveniently, he was.

Now he just had to learn how to live with that empty feeling inside.  It could be done, he told himself.  Just a matter of time.

***

November 13, 2005

CJ Cregg brushed her hair away from her face somewhat impatiently and leaned closer to the desktop, attempting to read the tiny numbers.  Frustrated, she rubbed at her lower back and grabbed her glasses.

"Treisa!" she called, waiting for her assistant to pop her head in with that familiar expectant look.  "Call Donna's office and tell her I need her to confirm these crime stats with someone at the FBI.  This fax is unreadable."

"You need new glasses," Treisa answered with a smirk.

"Oh, don't start with that," CJ groaned.  "I need these figures confirmed, not bifocals."

Treisa had been CJ's assistant far too long to be intimidated by the former Press Secretary.  "You could actually have both."  Treisa kept talking right over CJ's indignant protests.  "Did you have specific concerns with the numbers--"

"This quote from the President--"  She couldn't help the bitter twist of her mouth, even after three years of Baker-- "lauds across-the-board drops in violent crime, but unless I'm reading this wrong -- and one more crack about my eyesight will result in suitable punishment -- the rape stats--"

"Are up," Treisa interrupted soberly.  "As always."

"Right," CJ nodded.  "So either the President doesn't consider rape to be a violent crime, or he's an idiot."

"Again," Treisa answered with a grin, "no reason to make that an either/or proposition."

"Thanks," CJ said, squinting down at the document in question as Treisa headed for the door.

"Oh." Treisa stuck her head back in.  "You had a message this morning.  Before the office opened, actually.  On the voice mail."

CJ fixed her assistant with an impatient look.  "Are you planning to draw this out much longer?  Because my perpetually tardy husband claims he will be here promptly at noon to take me to lunch, and I'd like to at least be done with the morning messages."

Treisa rolled her eyes at her boss.  "Leo McGarry called.  He left a number."

CJ stared at her assistant for a long moment, flooded with images of the campaign, the administration, and that last, bittersweet night in DC.  It was so strange, sometimes, to think that had only been three years before.  Three years, CJ had learned, could feel like a lifetime.

"CJ?"

"Yeah?"

"The number?" Treisa prompted, holding a pale blue slip of paper in front of CJ's face.

CJ glanced at it and recognized the Bartlets' home number.  "Thanks, I remember it."  Frowning, she dialed, half-noticing Treisa closing the door behind her.

"Bartlet residence."

CJ blinked a couple of times, a startled smile on her lips.  "Margaret?"

"CJ!  How are you?"

"Good," she answered, grinning almost involuntarily.  "Wonderful, really.  And you?"

"Excellent," Margaret answered cheerfully.  "Leo called you?"

Same as ever, CJ thought.  "Yeah.  I got a message."

"I think he's in the study with Dr. Bartlet."

"Which one?" CJ joked.

But when Margaret answered, her tone was serious.  "The President is in Boston today."

"Liz?" CJ guessed immediately.  "How's she doing?"

"The chemo was pretty rough on her, but the doctors claim they had clear margins when they removed the tumor.  And Dr. Bartlet concurs."

"Good," CJ answered, relieved.  She trusted Abbey Bartlet's professional judgment above any other doctor.

"I'll get Leo," Margaret said.  "Great to hear from you."

CJ tapped her pen on the crime stats report while she waited, hazy, rose-tinted memories of the Bartlet campaign floating through her mind.

"CJ," Leo said.  She could tell he was grinning, and she relaxed a bit.  It couldn't be bad news.

"Leo, how's New England?"

"Infernally cold," he answered immediately.

"Well, it is pretty much winter," CJ pointed out.

"Oh, please.  You're in California."

"Northern California," she countered.  "It's, like, forty degrees."

"Fair point."

"How's the President?"

"He's good," Leo answered.  "It's been almost a year since the last attack, although Abbey worries about his stress level."

"Because of Liz," CJ surmised.  "Margaret tells me she's doing well."

"She's a trooper," Leo agreed.  "Stubborn as her father.  It's looking real good."

"And Annie?"

"She's thinking of postponing college a year, just till her mom's back on her feet."

Shocked, CJ asked, "She's a senior?"

"Can you believe it?"

"No," CJ answered honestly.

There was a small pause, and CJ knew she was about to learn the real reason for Leo's call.

"CJ, I wanted to give you a heads up about something."

"Okay."  She hated the wary tone in her voice.

"I spoke to Adira Lyman a few days ago--"

"Is Josh okay?" CJ interrupted, her thoughts going immediately to Donna, researching crime stats a few offices down.  Neither woman had spoken to Josh since Hoynes lost the election, but CJ suspected the reason Donna threw herself into work at the expense of her personal life was that she still loved Josh.  Please, CJ prayed, don't make me deliver bad news.

"It's nothing like that," Leo assured her.  "Josh is fine.  He's good, actually.  Adira says he seems better than he has since -- well, for a while."

"Have you seen him?"  CJ was honestly curious.  Leo had cherished his role as Josh's mentor, and she knew their estrangement had been hard on him.

"No," Leo admitted stonily.  "Adira and I try to speak once a month or so.  Anyway, the reason I'm calling is that I suspect you may see Josh in the next couple weeks."

It took CJ a moment to comprehend his words.  "What?"

"This isn't for public consumption," he warned, "but Josh told Adira that he's convinced Governor Douglas-Radford to run."

CJ blinked.  "For President?"

"Yeah."

"Susan Douglas-Radford?"

"Yeah."  Leo actually sounded amused.

"Josh is going to try to get a woman elected president?" CJ asked, just to clarify.

"Apparently."

CJ pondered that, a fond smile on her face.  "That man's arrogance knows no bounds."

Leo chuckled.  "No evidence to the contrary."

"Does he know that winning the nomination is going to be next to impossible, never mind the race?" CJ demanded.

"I'm pretty sure that's why he ran her gubernatorial campaign, to position her for this."

CJ nodded absently.  "Yeah."

"So I figure he learned his lesson the last time around," Leo said, traces of bitterness in his words.

"What do you mean?"

"He knows he can't do it alone," Leo answered.  "He needs the best.  Which is why I think you, Sam and Toby will be receiving impromptu visits."

CJ flushed at the compliment.  "But I have a job."

"I know."

"A good job."

"That's true."

"Leo, I'm the spokesperson for the Feminist Majority Foundation.  I work regular hours.  I have a husband who cooks for me.  I have a home in Sausolito with three cats.  Why would I give all that up to go work on a longshot campaign where I would make practically nothing and be forced to live out of a bus?"

"I know," Leo answered, sounding insufferably amused.  "Tempting, isn't it?"

"Leo!"

"Hey, I'm just giving you a heads up.  The decision's yours.  And I could be wrong."

CJ thought about it.  What would she do if she were Josh?  "No," she admitted.  "You're not wrong."

"Yeah," Leo said.  "Anyway, I thought you should know in advance.  I thought Donna should know."

CJ glanced reflexively in the direction of Donna's office.  "I'll tell her.  Thanks, Leo."

"Sure," he answered.  "Give her my regards.  Listen, I've got to go with Abbey to Boston."

"Give them all my love," CJ said.  "Tell Abbey I'll try to call this week."

CJ said her goodbyes and hung up, absently tracing circles on her desktop.  Well, she thought, things are starting to look very interesting.

A female president.

Hmm...

***

"So we may have a thing," CJ announced.

Donna looked up from the incredibly depressing rape statistics she was gathering and took a long look at CJ's face.  Some potential crisis was brewing, that much was clear both from the way CJ's brow was furrowed and from the way her mouth turned down, exposing those tiny lines that had recently developed in the corners.  Plus there was her lapse back into what CJ's husband Evan called their "Bartletspeak."  CJ only brought out the Bartletspeak these days when things got bad.

"What's wrong?" Donna asked.

"I talked to Leo," CJ replied, walking into Donna's office and taking a seat.

"Oh God, CJ, did something happen to the President?"  Even after all these years, the current resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was "Baker."  "The President," to everyone who had worked for him, would always be Josiah Bartlet.

"No," CJ hastened to assure her, "President Bartlet's fine.  Liz is improving too.  No, Leo's thing was mostly political."  CJ sat there as though she was uncertain about what to say next -- a pretty good clue, in Donna's mind, as to who CJ and Leo had been discussing.

"It's Josh, isn't it?"  She hated saying his name, Donna thought, hated the concern and the affection she heard in her voice.  She was thirty-one years old, she was working on her Master's degree, she had a job she loved and a townhouse of her very own.  Yet that name could send her back to a time when she had driven half way across the country to beg for a job and when she had believed that her grand mission in life would always be the care and feeding of Joshua Lyman.

"He's okay too," CJ said quickly.  "Knowing Josh, now that he's launched this harebrained scheme of his, he's probably better than he's been since Hoynes lost."

"Did Leo actually talk to him?"  Oh God, Donna thought, there I go, begging for crumbs of information about a man who couldn't be bothered to return one lousy phone call.

"No, Leo talked to Mrs. Lyman.  Apparently Josh has convinced Susan Douglas-Radford to run in 2006."

"Run for what?"

"This is Josh we're talking about.  What do you think?"

Donna attempted not to look as stunned as she felt.  "Is he serious?  Douglas-Radford's great, but--"

"You had all kinds of doubts about Susan Douglas-Radford when you heard she was running for governor, as I recall."

"That was different."

"I seem to remember you sitting in this very office and ranting about her lack of support for President Bartlet."

"I may initially--"

"Then you heard who was running her campaign and all your doubts vanished."

"Not everyone would have given him a chance to run a gubernatorial campaign after Hoynes.  I thought it showed -- well, it showed intelligence.  And compassion.  And--"

"That someone has never gotten over her former boss?"

Donna shook her head.  "Absolutely not.  I'm completely over that.  It's ancient history."

"Good, because your ancient history will probably be walking through that door in a few days."

"What?"

"According to Leo, Josh is planning to come out here and ask us to work on Douglas-Radford's campaign."

"You and Sam and Toby?"

"And you, of course.  I can't imagine Josh coming all the way out here and not trying to convince you to work on this."

"What would I do?  Even if he were interested, which he's not, I'm hardly going back to those fun-filled days of being Josh's assistant."

"You say that now, but--"

"I'm working on my Master's.  Don't you think that makes me a little over-qualified?"

"Carol had a Master's when she was my assistant."

"That was the White House.  People with Ph.D.s applied for those jobs.  And don't look at me like that, CJ.  Yes, I know I was underqualified in the traditional sense.  The special prosecutor grilled me for two days because of that, remember?"

"Mostly I remember Toby and Sam having to hold Josh down when he figured out the kinds of things they must have been asking you.  The fabled Lyman temper reached new levels during those two days."

"So I've been told."

"I'm just saying that there were always strong emotions between you two."

"And look how it ended."

"Regardless of that, you still care about him; don't bother to deny it.  And he's going to expect you to drop everything and come with him.  So it looks like we both have a decision to make."

"You have a decision to make.  I couldn't leave even if I wanted to.  There's the little matter of my Master's thesis."

"You could get an extension.  Hell, you're still deciding on the topic so--"

"I'm not putting myself through another round of campaigning with Josh.  Been there, done that, have the therapy bills to prove it."

"And when he shows up here?"

"I'll be polite, I'll say hello, I'll go back to work."  She gave CJ her most determined face.  "I can do this, CJ.  Really."

CJ still looked skeptical.  "If you say so."

"I do.  Anyway, the real question is what you're going to tell him."

"No.  I'm going to tell him no."

"Sure you are."

"Hey!  I have a good life here."

"You have a perfect life here."

"I have a husband who loves me."

"So much so that he'd pack up his bags and hit the campaign trail with you."

"I have a job.  I have responsibilities."

"You have a perfectly organized staff who will be more than happy to keep things running while you take a leave of absence to work on a cause they believe in."

"I have cats."

"I'll feed them and play with them and they'll be fine."

"It's a hopeless cause."

"So was Bartlet For America.  And even if she loses -- CJ, a woman!  An avowed feminist entering the race.  She could push the nominee, whoever he is, to the left."

"She can't win."

"Never underestimate Joshua Lyman and his amazing ego."

"Yeah, you're completely over him there, Donna."

"My point, CJ, is that you should do what you want.  Evan, this job, the cats -- they're excuses, and you know it.  Your only real objection is that it's Josh."

"Pot, this is the kettle calling."

"It's more complicated than that, and you know it."

"So I take this job and leave you to run the office and attend your weekly meetings of the Josh Lyman Done Me Wrong Society?"

"The -- you mean my weekly lunch with Sam?  You should come to lunch some time, CJ.  Sam misses you."

"Sam hits one note at those lunches, and it brings me down.  It doesn't do much for your frame of mind either."

"Overstating."

"Maybe a little.  But Sam seems less able to let it go than any of us. Including you."

"Sam always had this case of hero worship where Josh was concerned."  CJ raised her eyebrows.  "Well, he did, CJ, and he's still hurt.  He hated Hoynes, and it hurt him that Josh -- Do we have to rehash this?"

"I'm just saying that if the two of you want to move on, you should move on.  Otherwise, admit certain truths and start dealing with them."  CJ stood up and turned back toward her office.  Halfway out the door, she turned around.  "And prepare yourself because he'll probably be here by the end of the week."

Donna gave her a weak smile.  "So you think maybe I could take some vacation time about right now?"

"Nice try," CJ replied as she walked out the door.  She was three feet from Donna's office when she bumped into Josh.

"Wow," she told him, "that was fast."

***

Toby Ziegler hung up the phone and drummed his fingers absently on the scarred desktop.  He stared out the window, which overlooked the NYU campus, but his mind was miles away from his cramped office.

Three years as a political persona non grata had clearly done nothing to diminish Josh Lyman's ego, Toby thought.  Of course, his friend at the DNC could be wrong; but in the twenty-seven years he'd known Vince, the bastard had never been wrong.  To be honest, Toby found that quality quite grating.  At any rate, if Vince said Josh was preparing Governor Douglas-Radford for a presidential bid, then that's exactly what Josh was doing.

Toby glanced at the stack of poorly-written position papers awaiting his angry red scrawl and made up his mind.  A quick call to Douglas-Radford's office and one short conversation with a curt but efficient man named Pedro later, Toby's suspicions were confirmed.

Josh Lyman, Toby thought, you are one egotistical jackass.

Toby dug through the drawer containing the battered remnants of his days in the White House and dug out a pristine black leather planner.  It was his going away present from CJ.  In fact, she'd typed -- or, more likely, convinced Carol to type -- hers, Sam's, and Donna's information in the Contacts section, penciled in her yearly New Year's Eve party on the calendar, and wrote, where the planner called for the owner's information, "Toby 'The Irascible Inditer' Ziegler."  Toby grinned down at the planner, still filled with blank calendar pages from 2003, and flipped to "Sam 'Sparky' Seaborn."

"Seaborn and Associates."

"Ginger?" Toby blinked.  He'd forgotten for a moment that his former deputy had poached his former assistant when Kathy turned down the offer, since her husband worked at the Treasury Department.  Bonnie had, of course, moved on to a position in the Senate Minority Leader's office care of an especially supportive letter of recommendation.  Toby still received the occasional email update from Bonnie.

"Toby," Ginger answered warmly.  "How's New York?"

"Cold and populated with the illiterate."

"I thought that was DC," Ginger remarked.

"DC is cool and populated with egotistical imbeciles."

"Ah," Ginger laughed.  "You want Sam?"

"Is he in?"

"Yeah, one second.  Good to hear from you, Toby."  Ginger put him on hold before he could attempt a response.  Which, he figured, was probably for the best.

"Toby," Sam greeted; and just from the tone of his voice, Toby could perfectly picture the coverboy smile.

"How's San Francisco treating you?" Toby asked gruffly.

"Very good," Sam answered.  "You know, I feel very comfortable here.  Kind of like DC.  At any rate, San Francisco is much better than New York or Los Angeles.  Wait, I mean--"

Toby stifled a laugh at Sam's unintentional blunder.  "I'd have to disagree with you there, Sam, because San Francisco does not have a little franchise we like to call the New York Yankees."

"I was always something of a Mets fan myself," Sam teased.

"Heresy."  Toby fell silent for a moment, wondering how exactly to broach the subject of Josh.  "How's Donna?" he tried.

Sam's mood darkened perceptibly.  "What's going on with Josh?"

Toby sighed.  "You know he's working for Douglas-Radford--"

"Only because you and Donna seem to think I give a shit," Sam interrupted bitterly.  "Which I don't.  He could be--"  Sam stopped suddenly; and when he spoke again, his tone was subdued.  "He could have left politics altogether, for all I care.  Taken a job teaching."

"Teaching?" Toby asked.  "Josh?"

"Whatever."  Sam's tone was dismissive.

"He's gonna run."

Sam didn't say anything.

"Sam?"

"Douglas-Radford?" he answered finally.  "Really?"

"It's not official yet," Toby admitted.  "But there have been rumors."

"I know.  But I thought those were like the Elizabeth Dole rumors."

Toby pursed his lips, then said, "Elizabeth Dole didn't have Josh Lyman working for her."

"Well, yeah, 'cause Elizabeth Dole's a Republican," Sam answered, his tone light.

Toby's eyes widened.  In three years, that lighthearted reference to Josh's partisanship was probably the nicest thing Sam had said about his former best friend.  At first, Toby thought maybe Sam was trying to spare Donna and CJ, saving up the brunt of his bitterness for his sporadic phone calls to Toby.  Then he'd visited San Francisco for a long weekend over his summer break.  It saddened Toby to see the most idealistic and untarnished of the Bartlet Gang lose that quality that made him so perfectly Sam.  "Yeah," Toby said finally.  "Fair point."

"Listen, while the idea of a female president is certainly intriguing, I don't see why--"

"I think Josh is on his way to California, Sam," Toby interrupted.  "I wanted to warn you."

Sam hesitated.  "California?  To campaign?"

"No," Toby answered.  "To recruit."

***

At first, Donna thought she was hallucinating.  After all, it made a weird kind of sense:  CJ said that Josh was headed out to see them, and the next thing Donna knew she was hearing Josh's voice.  She listened for a minute, trying to get a sense of what he was saying, but the words weren't clear.  Just the sound of his voice -- that deliberately casual tone he employed whenever he felt vulnerable and didn't want anyone to notice.

It wasn't at all the tone he used in her favorite hallucinations.

Josh was outside her office.  Ten seconds advance warning.  Typical.

She reviewed her options -- closing her office door sounded like her best move.  Closing her office door clearly said, "Go away.  I don't want to see you."

Unless it implied, "Go away.  I'm too scared to see you."

No, she told herself, she should do the sensible thing, the mature thing.  She should stand up, walk out into the hallway and say hello.  A casual greeting for an old friend she hadn't thought about in three years.

So she stood up -- giving her legs a few moments to stop wobbling -- and walked out to face him.

And stopped dead in her tracks when she got her first look at him.

"You look like shit," she exclaimed.

"Yeah," he said, "that's what I've missed.  Those little ego boosts.  How do I get through the day without them?"

"Well, you do look terrible, Josh.  Doesn't he, CJ?"

"He's looked better," CJ admitted.

Donna's mind flashed back five years to a Christmas season when they'd all feared for his life.  She thought that maybe he'd looked better then.  Now his suit hung loosely on his body -- rumpled as always but ill-fitting too, like he'd lost weight but hadn't bothered to have his suits altered.  There were deep, sunken circles underneath his eyes.  His eyes, while they still were that warm brown that had always melted her heart, were bloodshot from too much reading and too little sleep and he had that haunted expression she remembered from the months after Rosslyn.  There were new lines along his eyes and his mouth, and even the way he stood seemed different.  Like he was favoring one side.  He was, she decided, ignoring his physical therapy.  What kind of idiot assistant did he have these days who didn't understand the importance of Josh's physical therapy?

She realized that CJ had been talking while she'd been busy assessing the changes in Josh's appearance and that both CJ and Josh were looking at her expectantly.

"What?" she asked CJ.

"I'm going to call Evan and tell him we have company for dinner."

"Company?" she repeated.  Josh was staring at her; she found this disconcerting.

"You and the prodigal here.  Are either of you listening to me?"

"What?" Josh asked, his eyes never leaving Donna's face.

"God help me, it's a repeat of The Josh-and-Donna Show," CJ sighed.  "That favorite of press secretaries everywhere.  Donna, take him somewhere and talk.  We'll all be better off for it."

CJ's orders finally penetrated Donna's brain.  Talk with Josh.  Alone.  Bad, painful idea.  "But--"

CJ pushed Donna toward the door.  "No excuses.  Go."

And Josh grinned.  CJ was literally shoving them out the door, and Josh found this amusing.  Bastard.

"Right," he said.  "Didn't I see a Starbucks across the street?  You could take me there."

"Nice try," Donna said, and for a moment she felt almost happy.  "But you're paying."

He gave her a look she didn't quite understand and followed her out the door.

***

Sam paced his spacious office, contemplating his options.  Josh Lyman couldn't be stupid enough to think any of them would happily go back to him -- to working with him.  To his unique brand of egotism and idealism.  He couldn't just show up in California three years after walking out on them and think everything would be fine.

Sam frowned, remembering a certain conversation on a sidewalk in New York City.  Okay, so maybe Josh would show up assuming lots of things.  He'd still be wrong.  Thankfully, they'd all received a warning in the form of Toby's phone call.  Of course, Toby'd called him, which meant he was responsible for passing on the news to CJ and Donna.

Typical, he thought angrily.  Leave it to Sam to deal with Donna and her devastation.  Hell, even CJ had stopped meeting them for lunch.  She claimed she was too busy, but Sam knew she was too uncomfortable to deal with Donna's pain now that she was all married and happy.  Sam had been so miffed that he'd skipped CJ's yearly New Year's Eve party for the first time since he'd known her, choosing to get excessively loaded with his new friend Jesse instead.  Of course, Sam had felt so guilty all night, he'd ended up calling CJ's place and apologizing.  Or so he'd been told.  His memories of that night were hazy at best.

Anyway, it was the Sam of Old who would've jumped in his car and played the part of Paul Revere:  The Jackass is coming!  The Jackass is coming!

The new and improved Sam Seaborn was not going to be manipulated by Josh Lyman anymore.  He wasn't going to drop everything -- to lose billable hours -- to go rushing across the city spreading the news.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam pulled into the lot of the Feminist Majority Foundation's San Francisco headquarters, still muttering to himself.  He slammed the door harder than necessary, huddled into his trench coat, and stalked inside.  Treisa, CJ's assistant, raised her eyebrows at his unannounced arrival but waved him in, muttering something about this being the day for drop-ins.

CJ was behind her desk, one hand holding the phone to her ear, the other rubbing her temple.  She glanced up, froze, then waved him in.  "Evan," she said into the phone, "I've got to go.  Don't go shopping yet; there may be five."

Sam frowned as CJ replaced the receiver.  "What?"

"Dinner tonight," CJ answered.  "Have a seat.  Do you have plans?"

Sam dropped into the guest chair and shrugged.  "Listen, CJ, I just got off the phone with Toby and--"

"Geez," CJ interrupted.  "It's certainly the day for it.  Toby talked to Leo?"

"No," Sam slid forward, teetering on the edge of his chair.  "Why?  Is there something wrong--"

"No," CJ assured him.  "The President and Dr. Bartlet are fine.  Liz is done with chemo and improving.  Leo's fine too."

"Good."  Sam released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"So you know about Josh?"

Sam blinked a couple of times.  "Yeah.  You know about Josh?"

"Oh, yeah," CJ answered, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension.  "It's not even eleven yet, and I'm ready for this day to be over."

"You told Donna," Sam guessed.  "How'd she take it?"

CJ shrugged.  "About as well as can be expected.  But as soon as she saw him, she--"

"What?" Sam yelped.  "Saw him?  He's here?  Right now?"  He was out of his chair and halfway to the door before CJ's commanding voice stopped him.

"Sam, sit down."

He took one look at her face and realized she wouldn't tell him another thing until he obeyed.  With a sigh, he slid into his abandoned chair.

"Thank you."  CJ folded her fingers together atop the desk and regarded him carefully.  "He was here.  Donna and Josh went somewhere to talk."

Sam gaped at her.  "You let her go alone?  CJ--"

"Don't start with me, Sam," she answered sharply.  "Donna is an adult and fully capable of making her own decisions."

"Not when it comes to Josh, she isn't."

CJ looked almost amused.  "I'm sure Donna would be interested to hear your stellar opinion of her."

"Not of Donna," Sam corrected with an impatient wave of his hand.  "Of Josh.  She shouldn't have to deal with him."

CJ held his gaze.  "Yes, she should."  She held up a hand to stay his protests.  "Sam, Donna is still in love with Josh.  She needs to deal with it one way or another so that she can move on with her life.  Douglas-Radford, the campaign -- for Donna, that's secondary, because a part of her is still stuck in that hotel room in Seattle the night of the nomination."

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  "Can't she deal with it without seeing him?"

CJ gave Sam a significant look.  "No, Sam.  I don't think that's possible."

He dropped his gaze, suddenly fascinated by his leather wingtips.  "Fine," he muttered.  "But I'm telling Ginger not to put him through if he calls."

"Sam--"

"No."  His head snapped up.  "No."

CJ sighed.  "Evan and I are having Josh and Donna over for dinner tonight, Sam.  We'd love it if you could join us."

Sam pushed himself out of his seat.  "Thanks, CJ, but I don't think I can do that."

***

Donna chose the table in back for two reasons -- the privacy and the fact that it had an extremely comfortable-looking overstuffed chair she thought would be better for Josh's back than the wooden chairs at the other tables.  She sat down while she waited for Josh to bring their drinks and contemplated how easy it was to fall back into the habit of thinking in terms of Josh's well-being.

He handed her an iced latté and sat down.  Somehow, over the years, the iced espresso latte had become the Official Lyman Beverage of Apology.  Once, after he'd made a spectacularly stupid remark regarding her sense of self-worth, she got iced lattés for two weeks.  It was what he had always done instead of actually saying he was sorry.  What she had always done was smile, take the latté and not force the issue.

This time she took the latté, and she forced the issue.

"You could have called me back," she said.

He looked at his coffee instead of at her.  "I couldn't, Donna.  Not then."

"Any time during the last three years would have been fine."

He ran one hand over his eyes.  He definitely didn't get enough sleep these days, Donna thought.  A decent assistant would tell him when to go home and go to bed.  "Do we have to have this conversation?" he asked.

"I'm just saying I was hurt.  I wanted to stay in touch; I didn't want to lose you completely.  Making that phone call was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, Josh, and you can't just come back after three years and buy me an iced latté and expect everything to be the same."

"I know it will never be the same," he said.  "I'm very much aware of that."

She had spent the last three years alternately worrying about him and hating him for not wanting her any more.  She had replayed every moment of their relationship, trying to find some clue as to whether he'd ever loved her or whether that night in Seattle had simply a consequence of his despair over President Bartlet losing the nomination.  If she were brave, she thought, she'd come right out now and ask him.  She kept telling herself that she was a stronger, more courageous person than she'd been three years ago, so she should be able to ask.

But if he said he hadn't loved her that night, she'd have a whole new set of regrets, and she really couldn't deal with that right now.  And the part of her brain that devoted itself to the care and feeding of Joshua Lyman was coming back to life and it was telling her that Josh couldn't deal with answering that question right now either.

She took a sip of the Official Beverage of Apology and asked, "So is Governor Douglas-Radford really going to run?"

***

Well, this is awkward, Josh thought as he sat down to dinner with Donna, CJ, and Evan.  Putting aside the bizarro-world quality of seeing Donna after so long, CJ was married.

CJ.  Married.

Happily, even.  He'd known of CJ's marriage before his trip to the West Coast, of course.  Hell, he'd heard about her engagement the day after it happened.  He might not speak to his former friends and colleagues directly, but he had a hell of an intelligence network set up.  And then there were his mother's monthly calls to Leo.  But knowing CJ was married and experiencing it -- her relaxed manner with Evan, their gorgeous house in Sausolito -- were two entirely different things.

CJ and Evan, in Josh's admittedly uninformed opinion, seemed very well matched.  Hell, even their furniture meshed well -- he recognized a couple pieces from CJ's place in D.C., and the entire house glowed with a sort of understated elegance.  Kind of like CJ and Evan; they lit each other up.  Josh was honestly quite happy for them both.

And then there was Donna.

He still dreamed of their one night together, and he could still torture himself at will remembering the look on her face when she'd understood his choice.  She didn't seem unhappy, necessarily, as she sat across from him at CJ's table.  But she'd lost a little of that something, that unnamable quality that made her crackle.  She seemed more serious, more cautious, and Josh tossed another brick into his virtual backpack o' burdens.

Almost four years later, and he had yet to forgive himself for his hasty decision.  A decision which he still couldn't classify as wrong -- he hadn't set out to hurt anyone, and although the move seemed good for him on a personal level, he honestly hadn't wanted the White House to go to Baker -- but which turned his life into this shell of its former self.  What else could have brought him to the point where he'd be shifting nervously in his seat while having dinner with Donna and CJ?  The very idea was absurd, given that these two women were the closest to him in the world, except maybe his mother.

"So, Josh," Evan said, passing him the potatoes.  "I hear you're trying to get a woman elected president.  That true?"

Josh choked on his beer, Donna's eyes got very, very wide, and CJ glared at her husband.

"Evan," CJ groaned.

"What?" he demanded.  "I'd like to have a nice, relaxed dinner, and that was just sitting there, waiting to be said.  And," he continued, eyes sparkling, "I know I can't trust you white folks to get around to it before dessert."

CJ rolled her eyes.  "Idiot."  She placed a hand on Josh's arm briefly.  "I apologize for my husband.  He can write like no one's business, but his tact is severely--"

"CJ," Evan interjected with an exaggerated sigh, "do we need to talk about The Night Claudia Jean Went to the Black Club?"

Josh grinned.  "Do I get a vote?"

Donna leaned closer.  "You don't want one," she told him, her tone conspiratorial.  "Trust me on this."

"Well," Josh answered with a smirk, "you've never failed me before, so I'll take your word for it."  He realized a moment too late that he'd said exactly the wrong thing.  The light-hearted atmosphere imploded so suddenly Josh swore he could hear the echo of a distinctive pop.

CJ cleared her throat.  "Donna, would you like a roll?"

Evan threw up his hands.  "Josh, what's the deal?  Is this chick going to run?"

"This chick?" CJ repeated tartly.

"This accomplished, intelligent and witty woman?"

"Thank you."

CJ and Evan turned their attention to Josh, who glanced at Donna.  She was still very quiet, but she didn't look completely hostile, so Josh decided to take a chance.

With a lopsided grin at Evan, Josh nodded.  "As you apparently already know -- and," Josh glanced at Donna, "remind me to thank my mother for that later -- Governor Douglas-Radford is strongly considering a presidential run."

"She'd be great," CJ answered.

"Where's she from?" Evan asked conversationally, spreading a liberal amount of butter on his baked potato.

Josh raised his eyebrows and glanced at CJ.

"Don't look at me," she protested.  "I've tried repeatedly."

Evan shot Josh a look.  "She has.  Incessantly.  I have no interest in politics, because I generally don't trust politicians.  Oh, sure," he continued, waving off the anticipated objections from Josh, "there are always some exceptions.  But politicians are -- and I'm fully aware that I'm making sweeping generalizations -- often interested more in their own political advancement than in serving their constituents."

Josh nodded thoughtfully.  "Please," he said, "just tell me you vote."

"Oh, I vote," Evan assured him.  "I vote in statewide elections, local elections, you name it.  I may have no interest in the political ramifications of ending affirmative action, but I sure as hell get out there and vote for people who support keeping it in place until some of the social inequities are balanced.  So tell me," he continued, "why I should vote for Douglas-Radford?"

Josh blinked.  "Susan Douglas-Radford is the current governor of Pennsylvania," he explained after a moment.  "She served five terms -- that's ten years -- in the House of Representatives, where she routinely voted her conscience, speaking up for the rights of women, minorities, the disabled, and other groups whose needs run contradictory to those of the corporate-owned Senators and Congresspersons."

"Ideologically," Donna continued smoothly, "she's a liberal's liberal.  Equal protection, civil liberties, campaign finance reform, women's rights."

"She sponsored the Violence Against Women Act all three times in the House," Josh waggled his eyebrows at CJ, who laughed.

"Right," Donna nodded.  "And she fought Len Trott when he tried to stall funding for Head Start in committee."

Josh flashed Donna an appreciative look.  "She's a vocal opponent of mandatory minimums, and the incredibly short-sighted war on drugs, and because she started as a D.A. in Pittsburgh, she's got the experience to back it up without being labeled soft on crime."

"Oh, and she led the opposition against the so-called 'Defense of Marriage' Act in the House, where it was ultimately defeated."

"The biggest plank in her platform is voter rights," Josh added.

Donna shrugged at Evan.  "You'd like her."

It took Josh a moment to recover, because for a moment it felt like old times, like it was three years ago, and he and Donna were a team.  When Josh glanced away from Donna, CJ gave him a sympathetic look.

"Josh," CJ said, "I fully support Douglas-Radford.  I think she'd make a great president.  I--"

"Good," Josh interrupted, with an apologetic look at Evan.  "Come join the campaign."

CJ laughed.  "Josh--"

"I'm serious."

"Josh, I can't join the campaign," CJ answered.

"Why not?"

CJ's eyes got really wide, and she gestured expansively.  "Do you see all this?  Do you see him?" she added, poking Evan in the side.  "I'm married, Josh.  I live in San Francisco.  I have a job I adore.  Why would I want to join a campaign?"

Josh glanced at Donna, who was studying her potatoes with undue fascination.  Then he turned his attention back to CJ.  "The crazy hours, the horrendous pay, the excessive amount of fried food?" Josh volunteered.

Evan laughed outright.  "Sounds like a book tour."

CJ didn't seem amused.  "Josh?"

"Because, CJ, she would be an amazing president.  And I need the best people if we're going to do this."

CJ shook her head.  "I can't be her press secretary, Josh.  It doesn't work like that.  I can't just go from the face of the Bartlet administration to--"

"I know," Josh interrupted impatiently.  "I don't want you to be press secretary."

Evan and CJ exchanged dubious looks, and Donna glanced up at Josh, then away.

"Then what do you want me to do?" CJ asked, her voice betraying her confusion.

"Media director," Josh answered promptly.  "We'll--"  He stopped, shifting his gaze to Donna, but she was avoiding his eyes.  "We'll find a press secretary for the campaign, and Douglas-Radford's got Carrie Caruso at the Statehouse.  We need someone who gets it, CJ.  We need you."

She watched him for a moment, shaking her head slowly in disbelief.  "Media director?  I don't--"

"I want Toby too," Josh said.  "I want every single swing voter in this country to be familiar with Governor Douglas-Radford, her stances, and her integrity.  I want every single swing vote."  He waved a frustrated hand in the air.  "I understand politics and perception.  I can get the backing, the political weight and the money.  I need you to get the media in line."

Evan reached across the table and took CJ's hand.  They locked eyes for a long, silent moment, and Josh held his breath.  Then CJ nodded slightly and turned to Josh.  "I can't answer you tonight, Josh.  I can't."

Donna touched CJ's arm.  "You'd be wonderful, CJ," she said quietly.  "You wouldn't necessarily have to quit.  Tedd and I can cover you."

CJ smiled her thanks.  "I'm still not going to decide tonight."  She looked at Josh.  "It's tempting, Josh.  It really is.  But I have a life.  I have a lot more factors to consider than I did in '97."

Josh nodded his acceptance, and an uneasy silence descended.  Evan caught Donna's eye and grinned.  "Ms. Moss," he said, offering her the basket of bread, "I believe you said you wanted rolls?"

***

When, Donna wondered, had she and Josh become these people who had trouble finding things to say to each other?  Outside of a few "CJ and Evan seem happy" type remarks, they were passing the trip back to the hotel in silence.  And not the comfortable "I know him so well I don't have to say anything" silence either.  This was the kind of silence you resorted to when you feared that the wrong word would damage the relationship even more.

Josh apparently was as unhappy with the silence as she was.  "So," he said, "this is an improvement over your piece of shit Toyota."

"This is a Toyota too, Josh."

"Yes, but it doesn't look as though it's held together by a piece of string and the power of prayer."

"Don't mock the Corolla.  That car got me from Wisconsin to New Hampshire in one piece."

"For which I will be forever grateful, but didn't it break down a few times along the way?"

"Only twice."

"And yet you held on to it for another four years."

"I had to.  It was all I could afford.  You wouldn't give me a raise, remember?"

"Oh, so now that you can't bug me about how you need a raise, you're going to start complaining about the raise you didn't get three years ago?"

"Yes, Josh, our relationship has moved into the past tense."  That came out, she noted, sounding much more bitter than she'd intended.

The appalling silence returned after that, neither of them even attempting conversation until Donna pulled up in front of Josh's hotel.

"So here we are," she said.  She waited for Josh to fall back on to the platitudes now -- to say how good it had been to see her again, to thank her for the ride, to say goodbye and walk out of her life one more time.

Instead, he rested his hand on the door handle for a minute, as though he was weighing his options, then turned back to face her.

"My mom talks about you all the time, you know," he says.

"I love your mom."

"And the first thing she's going to say when I get back is 'How was Donna?'  And she's going to hand me my ass if I don't give her details."

"You have details."

"I don't.  We talked about CJ and her husband, we talked about Governor Douglas-Radford's campaign, we didn't talk about you.  I don't even know -- well, for example, I don't even know if you're seeing anybody."

"Not at the moment."

And there it was -- Joshua's smile.  The first real smile of the evening.  Houston, she thought, we have dimples.

Damn, she'd missed the dimples.

"See," he said, "that's the kind of thing my mom would want to know.  We should, you know, talk about stuff like that; you should come in with me and we should talk for awhile.  Catch up on each other's lives, not just the campaign stuff."

That idea, Donna knew, was at least twelve kinds of stupid.  But it was an hour more with Josh.  Who knew?  Maybe she'd discover that she had idealized her memories of him too much over the years.  Maybe she'd discover that he'd changed.  Maybe she could finally put the memories of their night together away.  Maybe she'd have some sort of closure and she could relegate the chronicle of The Josh Years to the back of her brain after this.  So finally she nodded her agreement and followed him into the hotel.

***

"You're obsessing."

CJ glanced up from the sink to find Evan leaning against the doorframe, watching her.  "I don't obsess," she told him.

Evan nodded, a small smile on his lips.  "CJ, you've been scrubbing that same plate for a good minute and a half.  I assure you, it's clean."

CJ looked down at the sparkling ceramic.  Damn if he wasn't right.  She stuck out her tongue at Evan, then held the dripping plate and a dry dishrag in his general direction.

"Hey," he protested, even as he walked over and accepted the chore, "I cooked."

"And I'm cleaning," CJ pointed out.  "You're just swiping a towel haphazardly over the dishes before stacking them in piles.  I'm quite sure you can handle it."

"I think I'm up to it," he agreed.  Then he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

CJ shivered a bit.  "You're incorrigible."

"Yup," he grinned.  "That's why you love me."

"Is that it?  'Cause I've been wondering."

"Funny girl."

Silence settled over the kitchen as they fell into a familiar pattern.  CJ had fallen in love with Evan over a sinkful of dishes.  It hadn't been because he was an amazing cook, or even that he'd seemed to enjoy cooking for her; it was the way he grinned at her after she'd managed to break one of his gorgeous wine glasses by dropping it into the sink.  He'd smiled at her, pulled her hand away from her mouth and kissed her soundly, cutting off her attempts at an apology.  She'd wrapped her wet, soapy hands around his neck; he'd tossed the dishtowel blindly toward the sink; and the rest of the dishes were forgotten until morning.

CJ grinned at the memory, then frowned.  How could she even consider being apart from such an amazing man for the duration of a campaign?

"You know," Evan said as he accepted a plate from her, "my laptop has a pretty impressive battery."

CJ looked at him askance.  "If that's supposed to be some sort of sexual metaphor, you really need to take a vacation," she said, smirking.

Evan rolled his eyes.  "Also," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "writers often glean inspiration from new experiences."

CJ tried to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  "Really?"

Evan nodded in mock seriousness and carefully dried a glass before placing it in the cupboard.  "I wrote Altimetrical after I met you at that antique store."

CJ grinned.  "You were particularly obnoxious that day."

"I was obnoxious, Ms. 'Do you know who I am?'"

"I did not say that," CJ protested.  "And if you'd just told me that it was your sister's store instead of arguing with me--"

"You're fun to argue with," he breathed as he leaned down to kiss the edge of her jaw.  "And I'd be happy to tag along behind you all over the country.  I mean," he grinned, "the view from behind is pretty damn impressive--"

"Evan!"  CJ handed him the last glass and turned off the water.

He held her gaze, his voice loud in the sudden silence.  "Don't say no because of me.  If you don't trust Josh, if you don't want to leave, fine.  But I don't want to be the reason you say no."  He kissed her lightly on the lips.  "I'm portable, and so is my laptop."

CJ smiled at him.  "Where did you come from?"

Evan waggled his eyebrows at her.  "Well, Claudia Jean, if you'd like a demonstration..."  He trailed off, and the impish grin he shot her was the only warning CJ got before he tossed the glass he was holding into the sink.  It shattered.

"Evan!"

"What?" he asked in his best innocent tone.  "I'm recapturing the romance."

"I wasn't aware we'd lost it," CJ answered.  "And you're impossible."

Evan frowned.  "I was going for irresistible."

CJ wrapped her soapy hands around his neck, laughing when he shivered, and said, "Oh, you're definitely that."

***

Something about this scenario was oddly familiar and infinitely comforting, Donna thought.  After all, how many dozens of hotel rooms had she and Josh been alone in over the years?  Campaigns, fundraisers, summits -- their four years together seemed to have passed in a series of Sheratons and Marriotts and Hiltons.  And it had all been, she reminded herself, perfectly innocent.  Except for that very last night.

The less she thought about that subject, she told herself, the better.

This could have been any of the dozens of hotel rooms they'd spent time in over the years.  There were the usual nondescript paintings and furniture; Josh had, as usual, littered every conceivable surface with books and papers; even his ratty old backpack (because Josh couldn't carry a briefcase like a normal person) was tucked into its usual corner.

She started putting the papers and books scattered on the bed into order because that was what she'd always done in Josh's hotel room.  When she'd needed to work in Josh's room, she had always claimed space for herself on the bed -- never the chairs or the floor.  In retrospect, the reason for that was painfully clear.  But that was their pattern and to change it now would be too obvious.  Also awkward.  So she went back to clearing some space on the bed.

Until she noticed that Josh was surveying the contents of the minibar.

"Oh, no," she said, walking over to take the beer out of his hand.  "Absolutely not.  You had two glasses of wine with dinner.  That is your limit."

"You know," Josh said -- and he laughed; she was inordinately pleased to discover that he could still laugh -- "my new assistant doesn't ration my alcohol intake."

"Your new assistant obviously doesn't understand her duties."

"His duties."

"The new assistant is male?"

"Yes.  Puts a damper on the bantering, let me tell you."

She was standing entirely too close to him, she decided.  She was far too aware, standing where she was, of the new lines around his mouth and the way some of the energy seemed to have gone out of him and how he smelled like the cologne she used to make him wear to state dinners, even though he said he hated it.

"New perfume," he said.

"What?"

"Your perfume.  It's different.  It's not that stuff you used to wear."

"No, it isn't.  I got tired of that."

"Happy," he said.

"What?"

"The name of that perfume you used to wear.  It was called Happy."

"You routinely forget your mother's birthday, but you remember the name of a perfume your assistant wore three years ago?"

"I always thought it suited you.  Because of the name."

This conversation, she thought, could rapidly go to places she'd rather avoid.  She turned around and headed back to the relative safety of the bed while Josh perched himself across from her on the table.

She needed a neutral topic of conversation, she thought.  Politics.  Not a neutral subject for most people but one guaranteed to misdirect Josh.  "So do you really think you can get Douglas-Radford on the ticket?" she asked.

"Of course."

"See, that's what I've missed.  That right there.  The legendary Lyman modesty."

"Oh, look.  She can still do the smart-mouthed assistant thing."

"Are you going to explain why you think you can get Douglas-Radford elected, or are you going to sit there and banter all night?"

"Bantering's fun.  I've missed bantering."

He held her gaze for a long moment, as though he were searching for some clue to her feelings.  This struck her as strange since she thought she'd been way too obvious all evening.  Then he hopped off the table and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

This was familiar too.  She could remember dozens of nights when Josh was too wired about the campaign or about some bill that needed passing and he'd demand that she stay up and work with him.  She'd stretch out on her side on the bed while Josh sat on the edge, pontificating about his current obsession.  Occasionally, on nights when she was very lucky, he would absentmindedly remove her shoes while he talked and massage her foot.

She was very lucky tonight.

He started talking then about his plans for Douglas-Radford's campaign.  She watched him turn back into the old Josh for a few minutes, his unique blend of egotism and idealism re-emerging as he explained exactly how he could get the governor elected and what it would mean for the country to have a woman in charge.  She asked him questions he knew she already had the answers to, and she watched him beam with pleasure at the chance to explain things to her again.  And she wondered how she'd ever managed to delude herself into thinking that Josh Lyman slowly rubbing his thumb over her foot was innocent.

What planet had they been living on back then?

"None of which is going to answer any of Adira Lyman's many, many questions," he said.

"Huh?"

"Donnatella Moss, did you hear anything I was saying?"

No one, she realized, had called her "Donnatella" in three years.  Not that she would have let them.

"Most of it.  My mind just sort of wandered toward the end there."  She shifted around until he had to let go of her foot.  "What were you saying?"

"I was saying that you need to tell me the stuff my mother's going to want to know.  You know, what have you been doing for the last three years?"

Trying to get over you, she thought.  "Your mother knows that stuff already, Josh."

"She doesn't."

"Josh, I talk to your mother a couple of times a month."

She still found his confused face as adorable as ever.  "Why has she never told me this?"

Because Adira Lyman is nobody's fool and she has a fairly good idea of what happened between us, Donna thought.  "You'd have to take that up with her."

"So what does my mother know that I don't?"

"Many things, Josh.  Your mother is a very wise woman."

"You're not going to tell me about your life?"  He actually sounded disappointed.  Where, she wondered, did that come from?

"All right," she said, sighing.  "My life.  By Donnatella Viridis Moss."

Josh grinned and, before she could quite register what he was doing, he had stretched out on the bed, facing her.  There was, she reminded herself, a perfectly respectable amount of distance between them.  They'd done this before too, on some late nights during the campaign.  Once she'd even fallen asleep like this. S he remembered waking the next morning to find Josh still on his side, still a respectable distance away, watching her intently.  None of this, she reminded herself, was new.  None of it meant anything erotic to Josh.

So she started talking.  She told him about going back to school, about working for CJ, about starting her Master's and putting a down-payment on a townhouse, about her new life and her new friends.  She tried to make it all sound better than it was because, really, why bother to tell him that, as happy as she was with most of her life, there was this huge hole in the center where he was supposed to be?  Mostly he listened, only interrupting her once or twice to ask questions about her job or her studies.  He didn't ask any questions about the personal stuff, she noticed, but she couldn't figure out if that was because he didn't care or because he thought he didn't have any right to know all the intimate details anymore.

She told herself that he was probably just waiting until he found something he could mock.

For some reason, she didn't notice at first when he started touching her hair.  That gesture was so typical of him that it slipped past her at first.  She and Josh had always had an unusually tactile relationship.  It was simply what they did, part of how they'd always communicated.  This was just Josh falling back into old patterns.

It was only when he ran his finger very softly down her cheek that she realized this was turning into something else.  Something they'd only done once before.  The conversation came to a halt as she finally realized that Josh wanted her.  That she was on a bed with Josh Lyman and she could make love to him one more time if she wanted to.

She didn't think she wanted to.

Okay, she corrected herself, of course she wanted to.  Obviously.  She'd never once stopped loving him, after all.  But she'd stopped trusting him a long time ago.  It wasn't a matter of blaming him for going off to work for Hoynes; she'd understood why he'd felt he had to do that, even as she advised him against it.  What had made her stop trusting him was the phone call.  When, on election night, she'd taken the first step because she'd seen him on television in so much pain and she'd called him.  And he'd known -- he had to know because, really, why else would she have been calling? -- that she'd get on the first plane to Texas if he'd asked.  He hadn't asked.  He hadn't even called back.  Not once in three years.  So now, she asked herself, how could she possibly trust him enough to risk showing him how much she still loved him?

She really should pretend this hadn't happened.  She should say something about how late it was getting and how she had to be at work early the next morning.  She should make her excuses and leave.  She shouldn't risk showing Josh how much power he had over her ever again.

But then she looked at him.  She looked at him and she remembered all the nights when she tried to recall the way he'd stared at her when they made love, all the nights when she couldn't sleep because she was worried about whether he still had nightmares about the shooting and whether he was keeping up with his physical therapy now that she wasn't there to pester him into it.  And when she looked at him, she noticed something else.

He was holding his breath.

He was on the verge of kissing her, and he was lying there holding his breath because he knew her better than anyone ever had.  He knew exactly how her mind worked, and he wasn't going to make another move until he knew she had made up her mind in his favor.

That was what settled the matter in his favor.  She suddenly felt happier than she had in three years.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Breathe."

The kiss was exactly the way she remembered it.  There was nothing awkward or tentative in the way they touched; it was all natural and playful and increasingly passionate.  They fell right back into the rhythm they'd always had together, that way they'd had of knowing whose turn it was to take the lead.  Josh was half on top of her now, his hand moving down to her breast.  She ran her hands over his back and through his hair.  When Josh groaned, she heard herself laughing and realized that she was shifting and moving her legs apart in anticipation of his being on top this time.

She was starting to unbutton his shirt when he broke off the kiss and turned away from her.

"This is probably not such a good idea," he said.

"It's not?"  She was trying not to sound crushed; she didn't think she was succeeding.

"No," he said.  "I mean, you deserve--"  He shook his head and started again.  "We're not the same people we were three years ago."

"Apparently not."  She was also not succeeding in keeping the bitterness out of her voice, she noted.

She thought he flinched, but that was typical of Josh.  He never could stand criticism, no matter how oblique.  "Your life and mine -- this is really not a good idea."

She needed to focus on adjusting her clothes.  Her blouse had come untucked and her skirt was halfway up her thighs.  If she focused on what she was wearing, maybe she could ignore what he was saying and she wouldn't be overcome with the urge to cry.  Or throw things at him.

She finally stood up, grabbed her purse and concentrated on looking for her car keys.  "No," she managed.  "You're absolutely right.  Momentary wave of nostalgia.  Bad idea."

"Donna," he started.

She couldn't do this, she thought.  She couldn't stay in this hotel room one minute longer and pretend that she was anything other than humiliated by the fact that she'd literally been spreading her legs for him when he decided he didn't want her after all.  She never was quite certain of what she said, or whether she even managed to say anything that made the least bit of sense.  She simply walked out as quickly as she could manage.

She was irrationally proud of herself for not breaking down until she was safely in her own car.

***

Josh stared at the door for several minutes after Donna stormed out.  He wasn't sure he was breathing.  Hell, he wasn't sure his heart was still beating.  Way to fuck everything up in one fell swoop, he congratulated himself.

Then he dropped his head into his hands and groaned.  He ached to call Donna, to try to explain that he wanted her more than he wanted Douglas-Radford to win, but he couldn't handle the idea that she'd say thanks but no thanks.  She'd moved on, she'd graduated college, she was working on her Master's thesis, she had a townhouse and a great job.

She had this perfect life without him, and he'd spent the last three years alone and pathetic.  Oh, sure, he'd made a comeback, politically speaking.  The DNC had started taking his calls again almost a year ago, and his work with Douglas-Radford helped relieve some of the self-loathing he'd been living with since Hoynes' spectacular defeat.  But the rest of his life was just as he'd left it when he walked out of that hotel in Seattle.

No friends, no girlfriends.  No Donna.

From the look on her face when she'd buttoned her shirt, no Donna ever again.

Josh wished he could call CJ or Sam and get some sound advice right about now, but he'd squashed that possibility years ago.  And his actions tonight, his stupid, thoughtless, selfish actions had more than likely killed the chance that any of his former colleagues and friends would come work with him.

Josh had spoken to Ginger several times and was finally convinced that Sam wouldn't speak to him.  CJ'd seemed tempted at dinner, but now that Donna was going to call her and tell her what a complete ass he'd been tonight, well...  Josh would be happy if he got out of California with his kneecaps intact.

But worst of all, he'd allowed himself to get caught up in the past, in how good it felt to talk to Donna, to listen to Donna, to banter with Donna.  He knew she'd moved on, that she must have gotten over him; and he couldn't let her fall back into bed with him, no matter how much he wanted her.  She was far better off without him, if the past three years were any indication.  Apparently all Donnatella Moss needed to do was get rid of Josh Lyman and then the rest of her life just fell into place.

As much as he'd loved kissing her, touching her again, he'd known it was wrong.  It was selfish, and it wasn't what she needed.  It probably wasn't even what she wanted; she said herself she'd been nostalgic.  Which was all irrelevant anyway, because the bottom line was that Donna had a whole new life that didn't include him, and he didn't have the right to come marching into town after three years and expect her to still love him.

Even if he couldn't seem to stop loving her.

So he'd leave her to her perfect life and go back to his Spartan existence in Philadelphia, and he would concentrate on putting Douglas-Radford in office.

That would have to be enough.

THE END

07.02.01