January 2006

Governor Susan Douglas-Radford stopped just outside the conference room, marveling at the strange interaction of political acumen, excitement and lingering grudges inside.  Toni Timian, Douglas-Radford's right-hand woman, sat at the head of the table, watching the rest of them with an amused half-smile.

Next to Toni, Josh Lyman, the prodigal politico, trying to keep his ego and his enthusiasm in check for reasons known only to him.  She'd become quite dependent on Josh over the past two years, both for his political brilliance and his quick wit.  She'd long since decided the flak she got from long-time staffers when she'd hired him was well worth it.

Douglas-Radford followed Josh's gaze to Donnatella Moss, the youngest and quietest of what she'd come to think of as Da Gang.  While Douglas-Radford would have loved to be able to have CJ Cregg as her spokesperson, she was pleased with the tapes of Donna's Feminist Majority Foundation press conferences.  Donna was quickly becoming an expert in her own right, under CJ's tutelage.  Of course, there were still strange undercurrents, and the way Donna carefully avoided Josh's gaze was proof enough that Douglas-Radford's suspicions were well-founded.

Donna kept her attention on CJ, who was, of course, arguing with Toby Ziegler.  CJ's professionalism, media savvy and plain good sense were a good match for Toby and his way with words, obstinence and idealism, which made for some interesting fights.  Douglas-Radford suspected she'd have to get used to those two fighting; they seemed to enjoy locking horns over the slightest difference in opinion.  She thought it was probably due to their new status as equals.  Toby could no longer pull rank to win a debate.  To be fair, he seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't consider it a win unless he triumphed by virtue of his argument alone.

All in all, she thought, a damn fine campaign staff.  She'd watched the Bartlet for America campaign years ago with a mixture of awe and respect for the sheer audacity of it all.  Now she had most of the key players in her corner.

Douglas-Radford watched them a moment longer, then pushed the door open.  "Afternoon, kids," she greeted with a smile.

"Governor," Josh answered, the rest following suit.

"We were just discussing the debate.  Apparently," Toni said wryly, "the color of your suit is far more important than your stance on, say, capital punishment."

Toby folded his hands together and leaned back in his chair.  "I'm merely suggesting that fire engine red wouldn't be--"

"Oh, please," CJ interrupted.  "No one's suggesting we tart her up and shorten her skirts--"

"You said red," Toby pointed out.

"I said maroon, actually.  And further--"

"You know what," Donna put in, "perhaps we should ask the Governor for her thoughts on the subject."

Douglas-Radford grinned as four gazes swung in her direction; Josh, on the other hand, stared at Donna with a ridiculous grin on his face.

"Well," Douglas-Radford said dryly, "it has been a long time since I got good and tarted up -- damn the press -- and I would have such an attentive audience."

"Governor," Toni said in that long-suffering tone of hers.  "Please."

"I was planning to wear a cobalt blue suit with a white blouse."

Josh frowned.  "Is that the one with the collar?" he asked, motioning oddly at his throat.  Donna, CJ and Toby turned incredulous looks his way.  "What?" he asked defensively.  "I get paid to know these things."

CJ smirked.  "I didn't realize fashion consultation fell under the auspices of the political director."

"It does when the candidate's a woman."

"I hate that," CJ acknowledged sourly.

Donna glanced at Douglas-Radford.  "Governor?"

"Yes, Donna?"

"Would you mind if CJ and I--"

"You want to see my suit?"

Donna nodded.  "Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

With a quick glance at Josh, Douglas-Radford crossed her arms and demanded, "Do you really think that's necessary?"

Donna didn't even blink.  "Josh is right.  I could list about seventy-six different ways this campaign is going to be more tedious because you're a woman.  I wish things were different, ma'am, believe me.  But it is absolutely necessary that CJ has input on your image."

"Right," CJ nodded.  "You can't be too feminine or not feminine enough.  You can't be too strident, you can't be too agreeable--"

"It's a very fine line," Donna concluded with an apologetic shrug.  "But you need to let us do our jobs or this whole thing is pointless."

A slow smile spread over Douglas-Radford's face.  "I like you," she told Donna, who flushed.

"Thank you."

Nodding, Douglas-Radford turned her attention to Josh -- who shot her a grateful grin -- and said, "Well, now that we've settled the really important questions, let's discuss the issues."

***

"It wasn't anti-globalization."

"Governor--"

"Prop 37 wasn't anti-globalization, Toby," Douglas-Radford replied.  "Besides which, I was not the governor of Pennsylvania when that proposition passed--"

"You flew up here to stump for it.  It was during your campaign for governor!" Toby bellowed.  "Do you think Baker will care that you hadn't won yet?"

Douglas-Radford crossed her arms and glared at Toby.

Sick of the spitball contest, CJ jumped in before it could get further out of hand.  "Governor, we understand that your support of Prop 37 was--"

"Yes," Toby continued as though she hadn't spoken, "the citizens of Pennsylvania should have every right to decide that their tax dollars can't be used to buy..."  He paused, waving a hand around. "...pencils made by under-aged slave laborers in Malaysia!"

CJ sighed and slumped back in her seat, giving Donna a helpless shrug.  She knew better than to try to reason with Toby when he got off on one of his rants.

Douglas-Radford raised an eyebrow.  "They why are you arguing with me?"

The shrill ring of Donna's cellphone didn't appear to register with either combatant.  Donna stood and moved to the far end of the conference room to answer.

"Because the Supreme Court struck down the law as unconstitutional!" Toby yelled.  "They decided that a state couldn't negotiate or, in this case, obviate free trade agreements entered into by the United States as a whole.  The states cannot make policy decisions that amount to foreign relations; that right is reserved by the federal government."

"This Court is incredibly conservative, Toby," CJ pointed out.

Douglas-Radford nodded.  "Because Baker appointed Gallagher and Clarkson, whose ideology is somewhere to the right of Renhquist, which I honestly didn't think was possible before Clarkson."

Josh appeared in the open doorway, carrying a tray of Starbucks coffee cups.  He grinned at Douglas-Radford.  "Are we still on this?"

"Prop 37?" CJ asked.

Josh deposited the drinks on the table and stepped back, watching with amusement as his colleagues attacked.  "Yeah."

"Yeah."

Josh backed up and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and preparing to watch the show.  Then he noticed the lonely Starbucks cup still in the tray.  He glanced at Donna on the phone at the far end of the table.  Douglas-Radford and Toby started in on the intricacies of Versent Corporation vs. Pennsylvania, and Josh stepped into the room and settled into a chair across from CJ.  He tilted his head in Donna's direction and asked, "Who's she talking to?"

CJ gave him a look.  "Because as Donna's assistant, I probably--"

Josh rolled his eyes. "CJ?"

"How would I know, Josh?"

Trying to be subtle, Josh scooted his chair toward Donna.  CJ just laughed and shook her head.  "You're an idiot."

Donna finished up her conversation and turned back, nearly tripping over Josh in the process.  He grinned up at her.  "Hi."

Donna skirted around his chair and walked past, giving him a strange look.  "What are you doing?"  She tossed her cellphone onto the glossy desktop and reached for her coffee.

"Who was on the phone?"

Donna took a sip before answering.  "Ron Koch," she said, meeting CJ's gaze.

CJ sat up a little straighter.  Ron Koch had been the White House correspondent for the Dallas Morning News during Bartlet's presidency and now wrote an op-ed column for the Washington Post.  A virulently anti-Democratic column.  Needless to say, he'd never been particularly fond of anyone in the room.

"What'd he want?" Josh demanded, sliding his chair back toward the rest of the room's occupants.

Donna made a sour face.  "Confirmation that 'Bartlet's gang of four' was working for Governor Douglas-Radford."

Josh's eyes got very wide.  "Did you confirm it?" he all but yelped.

Toby and Douglas-Radford both glanced over, momentarily distracted from the discussion of whether or not the WTO was indeed an anti-democratic corporate puppet by the note of panic in Josh's tone.

Donna dropped into her seat and turned it carefully toward Josh.  "No, I did not confirm it, considering that the fourth member of the so-called 'gang of four' isn't here."

Josh's mouth tightened.  "Why is Koch looking at the campaign staff?"

"Because, Josh, it's a story," Donna sighed.  "You guys were big news when you got President Bartlet elected, then with Healthgate..."  She shrugged.

"Shouldn't the candidate be of more interest than the people running the campaign?" Josh asked, sounding quite annoyed at the prospect of being in the news.  Again.

"Oh, come on, Josh," CJ scoffed.  "Did you think no one would notice we were all working together again?"

"We're not all working together," Josh snapped.  He turned his attention to Donna.  "What'd you tell him?"

Donna raised an eyebrow.  "That CJ Cregg and Toby Ziegler joined Governor Douglas-Radford's campaign for the presidency because they believe she's the best candidate for the job."

Josh dropped his head and sighed.  "You should've checked with me first, Donna.  You should never have confirmed that."

CJ opened her mouth to get into the discussion, but a quick look from Donna silenced her.  Instead, she watched the younger woman try to hide her embarrassment as she answered Josh evenly, "Because you were going to deny that CJ and Toby are working here?"

"No," Josh shrugged.  "But you should've discussed it with me."

"Fine," Donna answered tightly.  She gathered her notes into her organizer and stood, flashing a polite smile at Douglas-Radford.  "Governor, I've got some notes to go over, but whenever you have time--"

"Ah," Douglas-Radford smiled.  "The wardrobe check?"

CJ flashed an apologetic look.  "Sorry."

Douglas-Radford gathered her Writer's Chai, her notebook, and stood.  "Let's get that over with."  She glanced over at Toby.  "You come find me later so we can discuss Versent vs. Pennsylvania."

Toby almost grinned.  Then he caught CJ's eye, and his brief flash of good humor fled as she inclined her head ever-so-slightly in Josh's direction.  Translation:  "Talk some sense into that jackass or I'll kick him into the middle of next week."

***

"God help the Governor," Josh muttered.  "She doesn't know what she's getting into."

"The debate?" Toby asked.  "You're underestimating her there, Josh.  She has a clear grasp on the issues and--"

"No," Josh said.  "No, no, no.  Not the debate."  He reached for his Starbucks cup and took a sip.  "She's just gotten involved in a discussion about what to wear on television.  With Donnatella Moss.  The same Donnatella Moss who once spent two hours deciding what tie I should wear on Meet the Press."

"You know, Josh, nobody's called her Donnatella in years."

It was one of the few times Toby had seen Josh smile since the Douglas-Radford campaign had started.  "Nobody else ever called her Donnatella," Josh said.  "Just me."

"Right.  Well, that would explain it."

Josh stopped contemplating the Starbucks logo and glared at Toby.  "Explain what?"

"Sam called her that once.  Must have been a day or two after you -- after we got back from Seattle.  She threatened us with bodily harm if we ever called her that again."

Toby observed Josh's pained look with what he hoped was detachment.  He had no desire to get caught up in the continuing soap opera that was Josh and Donna's relationship.  Let CJ deal with it.  She was better at that sort of thing than he would ever be.

Scribbling something illegible on his legal pad, Toby cleared his throat and said, "At any rate, we should discuss the next debate.  Depending on how well she does in the New Hampshire primary, I think--"

"She didn't ever, you know, say..." Josh trailed off, indecision etched on his face.

Toby tried to find a way to willfully misunderstand him, but then relented.  "'She' meaning Donna?"

"Yeah."  Josh traced the Starbucks logo.  "Never mind."

Toby nodded.  "Absolutely.  Since this first debate is mostly domestic issues, I think it's very important that she presents a strong, rational grasp of international issues in--"

"It's just, I kept track of her, of all of you," Josh said, almost to himself.  "But it was superficial.  Donna's getting her Bachelor's degree.  CJ's getting married.  Sam's hanging out--"

"Josh," Toby interrupted, his voice pained.  "Could we?"

"Sorry.  Right."  Josh took a moment to collect himself.  "The second debate.  She should emphasize that she sat on the Foreign Relations committee for six years, during which time she played a crucial role in -- You know what?  I'm really not sure I can work with her."

Toby rubbed a hand over his face.  "'Her' who?"

"Huh?"

With an annoyed sigh, Toby said, "Look, when I started working with Andie on her campaign, it was...different, to say the least.  The patterns you have from before, they're not going to work."  Toby held Josh's gaze, waiting for some signal that he understood.  Josh merely stared at him rather vacantly.

Toby fiddled a little bit with his pen, watching the nib appear and disappear.  "If you're concentrating too hard on the way things used to be with her," he said quietly, "you're gonna screw up.  You won't be paying attention one day and you'll say something to her that is inappropriate, and the wrong people will hear it, and she won't be able to--"  Toby stopped talking and tapped his pen, hard, against his legal pad.  "The campaign, Josh.  That's what's important right now.  Okay?"

Josh stared at him, brow furrowed.

Toby grimaced.  "Josh?"

"Yeah.  Okay," he said, with an unconvincing nod.  "You're right."

Toby opened a folder on the conference table.  "So we're going to get the China question--"

Josh stood and tossed his coffee cup into the trash.  "I'm gonna--"

Toby gave an annoyed flick of his hand.  "Oh, go away."

***

Donna willed herself not to look at Josh when he entered the room.  "CJ's not here," she said.  "Something about the speaking order in the debates."

"Yeah, I saw her downstairs.  I needed to talk to you actually."

Okay, this was going to happen occasionally, Donna told herself.  She was the press secretary; Josh was running the campaign.  They had business stuff to deal with.  She looked up to find that Josh was leaning against the door as though he was afraid to come any closer, as though he was preparing for an abrupt exit.

"You're right," she told him.  "We do need to talk."

He let out a long breath, and it annoyed Donna to realize that her attention was suddenly focused on his lips.  "So what do we talk about first?" he asked.

"The way you treat me in front of the Governor.  It's unprofessional, Josh."

"What?"  His eyes grew wide, as if that was the last subject he'd expected her to bring up.  Some things, she reflected, never changed.  Whatever was on his mind, he hadn't anticipated that she would have complaints of her own.

"You talk to me like I'm still your assistant.  I'm not here to do your research for you, Josh.  I'm not here to keep track of your schedule and answer your phone.  Stop talking down to me.  It's bad enough in front of CJ and Toby, but at least they've known us long enough to understand why you think you can get away with that crap.  In front of the Governor and her staff, it's unforgivable."

"I didn't realize I was doing any of that."

He sounded absolutely contrite, and it surprised her.  In the past few weeks, it had seemed to her as though his customary brashness was resurfacing; and contrition didn't fit the image of Josh-in-campaign-mode that she carried around in her head.  She squelched her automatic desire to comfort him and let him off the hook with some lame quip.  Taking care of him was not her job anymore.  She had to act like a professional if she expected him to treat her like one, after all.

"Well, you are doing that.  If you don't think I can do this job, that's one thing."

"God, no, Donna.  I don't think that at all."

"Then please have the courtesy to treat me the way you'd treat CJ."

"Yeah, but I've never slept with CJ."

She wondered if she looked anywhere near as stunned as she felt.  "You know," she finally managed to say, "I think we should just ignore that."

"How?" he asked.  "I mean, it's part of our history, right?  You were my assistant; we had that one night.  We should maybe discuss all that, figure out how we go from where we were to where we want to be now."

"Well, we could start with you never mentioning what happened in Seattle again."

He finally moved further into the room, stopping just inches from the chair she was sitting in.  The old Josh, she thought -- master of the tactical advantages of invading an opponent's personal space.

"You don't think it's better to talk about it?" he asked.

"Why?  What good can it possibly do now?  We made one mistake three years ago.  If we're going to work together, I think the best course of action is to forget about the past and start over."

"Get rid of the old patterns, in other words?"

"Exactly."

"I liked the old patterns," he said softly.

She told herself that she was not going to be affected by his tone of voice.  "Of course you liked them," she said.  "There I was, taking care of you, seeing to your every need, letting you walk all over me -- how could you not love that?"

His forehead crinkled, and he gave her a look of pure bewilderment.  "Were we in the same relationship?  Because that's not how I remember it."

"Really?"

"No.  I remember you being pretty much in control of everything.  Especially since I could never find anything in that crazy filing system of yours."

"It was color coded.  It made perfect sense."  He was trying to deflect her away from the larger issues; she knew it.  Yet here she was, smiling at him anyway.

"And that whole smart-mouthed assistant thing?  Not exactly fawning there, Donnatella.  Not even showing respect."

She made herself remember what a bastard he could be because, really, smiling at him like the lovesick Donnatella of old wasn't doing either of them any good.  This new relationship was only going to last as long as the Douglas-Radford campaign -- November, at the latest -- and they'd go back to the respective worlds after that.  Falling for him again would do her no good whatsoever.  "You're one to talk about respect," she told him.  If he was going to fixate on the past, she might as well direct him toward the less idyllic moments.  "Putting down Donna seemed to be your favorite sport back then.  Besides the daily complaints about my job performance, there were the constant barbs about my personal life, my terrible taste in men and my lack of self-worth.  You were a joy to work for, Josh."

"I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"Yes, you were.  You know, I can't recall you saying one sincerely kind thing to me in four years.  Not so much as a single 'good job.'"

"If I was that bad, why did you stay?"

Besides the fact that I was in love with you? she thought.  "Josh, honestly!  I'd dropped out of college, and somehow I ended up with a job in the White House.  That's kind of hard to walk away from.  And anyway, that's the sort of thing I'm talking about.  I'm fairly new at this.  I'm going to make some mistakes, and you're going to have every right to call me on those.  But it would help if you occasionally remembered to tell me when I do a good job."

"I'll try and remember that."  He sounded almost angry, she thought.  Typical.  He never could take criticism.

"Fine.  If you don't have anything else on your mind--"

"Nothing you'd be interested in, apparently," he muttered.

"I have work to do."  She turned back to the papers she'd been looking through and, after a minute, heard him opening the door.

"Donna?"

She looked back up at him and was suddenly reminded of him standing by the door in a hotel room in Seattle.  "What?" she asked.

"You did an amazing job.  Every day for four years.  You were incredible.  And you're right, I should have told you."

***

CJ stalked through the lobby, still mad enough to spit, and almost literally bumped into Josh.  At the last moment, he swerved around her without even acknowledging her presence.  CJ stopped in her tracks and frowned.

"Josh," she said, hooking an arm through his.  "Come with me."

And then she got a good look at him.  "Josh?  What's wrong."

He gave her something of a vacant look, brushed a hand through his unruly hair, and shrugged.  "Nothing.  I'm going to get a drink.  Do you--"

"Let's go," she said, steering him toward the small bar tucked in the corner of the hotel lobby.  "You can buy me a drink."

Josh managed a half-grin at that.  "You can't afford a drink, Ms. I Married an Award-Winning Author?"

CJ threaded her way through the tables until she found a relatively dark booth along the wall.  "I never said I couldn't afford it; I just said you were buying."

"One drink," Josh retorted.  "You're not getting loaded on my dime."

CJ's expression sobered as she watched him.  "Are you getting loaded?"

He gave her an incredulous look.  "I just sat down."

"Are you planning to get loaded?" she corrected with a roll of her eyes.  "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

Josh glanced away, his mouth tight, and flagged down a waitress.  "A grasshopper for--"

"I don't want a grasshopper," CJ interrupted, laughing.  "I'll have a glass of chardonnay."

Josh shot her a strange look, then ordered a Jack and coke.

CJ felt her eyebrows rise in response but tried to school her expression.  His body language was almost... skittish.  She drummed her fingers on the table.  "So that jackass McMartin from CPD?  He's still insisting that the Governor go fourth -- fourth -- because she's -- and I'm quoting here -- 'a dark-horse candidate.'"

Josh sighed.  "Is there anything we can do?"

"No, the CPD is a self-governing organization -- a PAC, really -- and they're in charge of the debates," CJ sighed.  "The most we can do is publicly express our displeasure, but--"

"That's risky," Josh finished.  "For many reasons."

"The Governor would be painted as contentious, expecting special favors -- and it would be implied that she's expecting special allowances because she's a woman and a crybaby."  CJ paused as the waitress delivered their drinks, then took a sip of wine.  "So either we take the slot or we withdraw from the debates, which we can't do."

Josh shrugged and took a long drink from his glass, grimacing slightly as he swallowed.  CJ watched him curiously.  She could tell by the way he kept twirling his glass around in circles on the tabletop that he was only half-listening to her, and that was unusual when the conversation was about the campaign.  Josh may have been different in many ways from the man she'd known years earlier, but he was still utterly in his element at the helm of a high stakes campaign.  It took a lot to distract him from his goal; Josh could be almost single-minded sometimes.  Which meant that whatever was bothering him was a big deal.

CJ frowned at him.  "Josh?"

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me."  He took another drink.

"Josh."  CJ leaned closer, waiting until he met her gaze.  "You've changed a lot in the last three years, but you're still a crappy liar."

Josh held her gaze for a long moment, trying, she assumed, to force her to back down.  He should know better than to challenge a Cregg; her entire family was stubborn as hell.  Finally, he slumped a little in his seat and stared down into his drink as he turned it in never-ending circles on the tabletop.  "I'm an asshole."

Surprised, to say the least, by his grave admission, CJ laughed outright.  Josh's head jerked up, and he gave her a wounded look.

"I'm so glad I could amuse you, CJ.  And thanks for dragging me in here, I'm feeling much better--"

"Oh, Josh," she interrupted, placing her hand on his forearm.  "I'm sorry.  It's just -- what are you talking about?"

He took another swallow of Jack and coke.  "Before," he said finally.  "I was an asshole to Donna."

CJ hesitated -- because, really, could he be a little more ambiguous with the timeframe?  Before CJ bumped into him in the hallway?  Before when he stopped kissing Donna and didn't explain in San Francisco?  Before when he walked out on Donna in Seattle?  Before when he was a pompous ass to Donna when she was his assistant?  Of course, CJ couldn't think of a way to phrase a request for clarification without making it clear that Josh was often an asshole.  CJ pursed her lips.  "Um..."

Josh caught her eye with a self-deprecating smile.  "Great," he said.  "You can't figure out which 'before' I mean, can you?" he challenged.  When she flushed a bit, he nodded to himself and finished off his drink.  "Look, I'm gonna--"

"No," CJ shook her head.  "Stay.  I don't think you're an asshole, Josh.  I think you can be... insensitive, especially to Donna."

"Doesn't matter," Josh dismissed, looking around for the waitress.  "Our relationship is strictly professional and always will be."

CJ glanced up at the ceiling, a silent plea to whatever god, goddess or heavenly being happened to be hanging around to help her reason with this impossible man.  "Josh," she began, "your relationship with Donna has not ever been, is not now, nor ever will be strictly professional.  There's all this...stuff just hanging in between you two, and you won't be able to move forward -- in whatever form your relationship takes -- until you deal with it."

"She doesn't want to."  Josh's voice was so quiet CJ found herself unconsciously leaning forward.

"What do you mean?"

He couldn't quite meet her eyes.  "Nothing."

CJ considered her options briefly, then sighed.  "Josh, if you're talking about Seattle, I already know."

Josh kept his head down.  "She told you?"

"I--"  CJ shrugged.  "I found her.  After you'd left.  She was -- she was just sitting on the bed in your room."

Josh made a strangled noise, but he still didn't look up.

CJ took an inelegant gulp of wine.  "Look, I'm sitting here as your friend, Josh.  I'm not threatening your kneecaps right now, I'm trying to help.  What happened?"

"She's changed," Josh answered finally, shaking his glass a little so that the ice cubes rattled together.  "She's... She seems so together now, so independent."

CJ nodded.  "She is."

"She's got this whole life, CJ, and I'm not--"  He stopped, shaking his head.

CJ squeezed his forearm.  "You're not a part of it?"

His head jerked up and he gave her a piercing look, his eyes haunted.  "No," he admitted.  "I'm not."

"It's been three years," CJ offered.  "She still cares about you, Josh, but she couldn't just wait for you to decide to come back--"

"That's not what I mean," he exploded, his voice passionate but still low enough not to draw the attention of the other patrons.  "I don't think she should've waited for me.  I just -- She's fine.  She..."  He shook his head.  "She doesn't think about me, or about what happened.  She won't even talk about it.  She's moved on completely, and I'm still--"

Josh turned his head and caught his breath.  Then he raised an arm in the air.  "Can I get another one?" he called to the waitress.

CJ watched him, debating with herself.  She had loyalties to so many different people in this tangled mess.  To people who still hurt, who still cried over this man, and even to Josh himself, her dear, daft friend from years ago.  The problem was, she didn't know if talking to Josh would merely serve to complicate the situation further.

The waitress deposited Josh's drink on the table, and he lunged for it.  CJ sent up a quick prayer for guidance and leaned forward, her hand abandoning his arm in favor of his chin.  She pulled his face up until he looked at her.  "Don't be an idiot, Josh," she ordered.  "Donna's scared to let you anywhere near her heart again.  You did a harsh thing."  She tightened her grip as Josh tried to pull away.  "Not calling her back, I'm saying.  You're right; she has moved on.  But if she were really 'fine,' why wouldn't she be able to talk about it?"

Josh stared at her, and CJ would swear he wasn't even breathing as the wheels in his head turned.  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

CJ released him and sat back.  "Look, Josh, I can't tell you what to do here.  I don't have any idea what the best route would be; this entire situation is littered with land mines.  But," she continued, pushing her half-full wine glass away from her, "I can tell you that, no matter what Donna says, you two need to have a conversation at some point."

Josh watched her as she rose and stepped over to him, resting her hand on his shoulder for a long moment.  "Thanks," he managed.  "I'll..."  He shrugged.

She nodded.  "Just think about it, okay?"

***

This is for the best, Donna told herself as she slipped out of her work clothes and into a comfortable nightshirt.  She and Josh had needed to iron out the details, figure out how to work together despite the mistakes they'd made in the past.  She had to handle matters professionally, after all.  No more lovestruck, pathetic Donnatella.  Yes, she still had feelings for Josh.  Given their history, that was completely understandable.  And of course she was still attracted to him.  A woman would have to be either lesbian or brain-dead not to find Josh Lyman attractive.  However, she was learning to overlook her rather complicated feelings for Josh and concentrate on her work.

"Because, really," she muttered, "that strategy's been working so well for me these last three years."

As if to prove her point, a distinctive voice shouted "Donna!" just outside her door.

She considered telling him to go away or at least to wait until she threw a robe on.  But she decided to be sensible.  He'd seen her in less, after all.  Hell, he'd seen her naked.  Besides, he'd made it clear in San Francisco that he wasn't interested.

Proving her point, he completely ignored her unprofessional attire when he stormed into the room.  "Was I really that bad?" he asked.

"When?"

"When we worked together.  Was I that terrible a boss?"

Yet another thing that never changed, she reflected ruefully.  Josh still obsessed over any criticism.

"You could be."

"And you only stayed because you had nowhere else to go?"

She relented because he was doing something she remembered too well.  He was starting to beat himself up because he suddenly realized that his occasional thoughtlessness had hurt someone he cared about.

"No.  There were plenty of other reasons."

"Such as?"

"I liked working at the White House.  I had friends there.  People I cared about.  It was the first time in my life when I woke up in the morning and was actually eager to go to work, you know?"

"So you were sticking around because of CJ and Sam?"

"Partly.  Also Toby.  And Margaret and Carol and the rest of the assistants.  For Mrs. Landingham.  Because I believed in President Bartlet.  And," she added reluctantly, "there may have been other considerations."

"Like what?"  She noticed he still did that thing where he'd take a breath and hold it while he waited for an answer he suspected he wouldn't like.

"You," she admitted.  "No, you weren't that bad.  You weren't the easiest person to work for, but you could be quite a lot of fun.  Sometimes.  We talked, and you listened to me -- Well, some of the time you listened to me -- and you took what I said seriously.  Again, some of the time."

"Some of the time," he repeated.  He'd let out the breath, she noticed, and he was beginning to smile.  Her Inner Assistant found that encouraging.

"Other times you were -- it wasn't so pleasant.  And no one has ever been able to hurt me as much as you could.  But it was fun more often than it wasn't.  It's just that now -- considering how it ended -- sometimes it's easier to focus on the bad stuff."

He squinted, the lines around the corners of his eyes becoming visible.  It was, she thought, as though he was literally trying to bring her into focus.

"Why?"

"Because I needed to move the rest of it to the back of my mind, Josh.  I had to get on with my life and forget about Seattle and I couldn't do that if I was mourning for this great relationship.  It was much better if you were just another Dr. Free Ride."

"Another Dr. Free Ride?"

"Yes, that's what you used to call my ex-boyfriend.  You know, the one I put through med school?"

"I remember Dr. Free Ride.  I just don't like -- I really hurt you that much?"

"More.  I mean, I always knew he was a bastard.  I wouldn't let myself admit it when I was with him because, really, who wants to think they've made that big a mistake?  But he was never my friend, and you were.  That was the part that hurt most, losing my friend."

"I was trying not to hurt you."

"Ignoring a person for three years?  Not getting back in touch until you want to hire her?  Right, Josh, that certainly helped me over the pain."

"I'd screwed up my life; I'd ruined my career.  I didn't have anything to offer you."

"The only thing I wanted back then was you."

"And now?" he asked, moving closer to her.

She was at a disadvantage, standing there in her nightshirt while he was still in his business suit.  It occurred to her that what she was wearing was not unlike how she'd been dressed that night in Seattle.  She wondered whether the parallel had crossed Josh's mind too.

"I'd like my friend back," she managed to say.

"Just your friend?"  She thought she heard a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"I think that would be a good place to start," she answered.  "Besides, the other thing -- it's too complicated.  We're supposed to be working together.  We're still figuring out how to do that without being boss and assistant.  We can't manage that and be lovers too.  I really don't see how we can." 

"Because my thing is that I don't think we can just ignore it.  Seattle, I mean.  We can't pretend it didn't happen.  I can't stop wondering how things would have turned out if I hadn't left."

"That kind of speculation is pointless."  And I should know, she added silently; I've spent hundreds of hours on exactly that kind of speculation.  "The circumstances were extraordinary.  It was an isolated incident."

She couldn't decipher the look he gave her, and she found that annoying.  Three years ago, she'd been the expert on reading Josh's mood.  She'd known how to interpret every gesture, all the tiny variations in gesture and tone of voice.  But half the time now, he was a complete mystery to her.

"All right.  Extraordinary circumstances.  I'll grant you that.  But I'm still having trouble ignoring it, Donna."

"Because, typically, you've decided to feel all guilty and beat yourself up over it.  And you don't have to.  This isn't Victorian England.  I wasn't seduced and abandoned.  In fact, if you'll recall, I was the one who started it."  She made a shooing motion with her hands.  "So go.  You have my official permission to clear your conscience.  Everything turned out fine.  I have a great life.  I've missed you; but other than that, I'm happy."  She gave him a simple, platonic kiss on the cheek.  It lasted, she realized, a second or two longer than necessary because she was distracted recalling how good he smelled -- masculine and slightly woodsy, like the outdoorsman he definitely wasn't.  He still used that cologne she'd made him buy when they were in the White House.

His arms went around her, and he pulled her closer to him.  "At least one of us is happy," he whispered.

She moved out of his arms because, really, it would be too easy to repeat all the old mistakes.  "See?" she said, trying to call up the old bubbly Donna.  "That's why you need me.  You need to lighten up, Josh.  Stop worrying about the past and the campaign.  Enjoy yourself.  I'm going to make sure you do."

"You are, are you?"  He was beginning to smile.

"I'll take on that project, yes.  Of course, this falls outside the normal duties a press secretary performs, so--"

"Here it comes," he said, and he was genuinely smiling.

"I'm going to need a raise."

***

Josh hung up his cell phone, turned to his colleagues, and gave a strange little whoop of excitement.  He was promptly shushed.

"She's on fire tonight, Josh," CJ said distractedly.  "Shut up."

"I just got endorsements from--"

"Josh," Donna ordered, jotting something in her small blue notebook.  "Quiet."

Josh blinked.  "No respect," he told Toby, who grunted but never took his eyes off the screen.  Josh took a couple steps closer to the TV set and squinted a bit at Governor Douglas-Radford's TV-sized image -- crisp, neat, and professional in her CJ-and-Donna-approved cobalt blue suit.  "She's smokin'?"

"Hell, yeah," CJ grinned.  "She got good crowd response for the voter rights answer.  Haskell gave a half-assed argument against 'hurtling forward into uncertainty--'"

"'Hurtling headlong into uncertainty,'" Donna corrected with a glance at her notes.  She leaned forward, turning her head a bit to hear better.

Toby grunted again.  "Abusive alliteration."

"Good," CJ grinned.  "As long as it's him sounding like an idiot."

"He's not an idiot," Josh commented.  "He's not a bad candidate, actually."  Toby glared, CJ raised an eloquent eyebrow, and Donna tossed him a strange look.  Josh threw his hands up in defense.  "I'm just saying."

"She's rebutting," Donna noted, her pen poised over her notebook.

They grew quiet, watching Governor Douglas-Radford, who looked quite at ease behind the podium, nod her thanks to the moderator and say, "Instant Run-off Voting is in the immediate interest of the Democratic Party, and the nation as a whole, because it produces a majority candidate within a single election.  This is not a radical concept.  The idea behind Instant Run-off Voting is that voters rank the candidates, instead of choosing only one.  That way, if an election doesn't produce a candidate with the clear majority -- in other words, if the candidate with the most votes wins only forty-eight percent instead of fifty percent plus one -- than the second choice of each ballot is added to the pool."

"Explain it," muttered Toby, peering intently at the screen.

Douglas-Radford glanced over at her opponent with a small smile.  "For example, if Senator Haskell here were to run as a third party candidate against myself and President Baker, I would vote first for myself, rank Haskell second, and Baker third.  If the first-choice votes of all of my fellow Americans and I produced a leading candidate with only forty-nine percent of the popular vote, instead of calling a second run-off election -- and run-off elections are notorious for poor voter turnout -- the second choice of every voter in America who voted for a candidate other than the top two would then be added to the pool.  This would produce a winner with a majority of the votes.  That way, voting for a third-party candidate wouldn't take votes away from major party candidates, in the event that the election is close."

"You go, girl!" CJ cheered.  Then she turned to Toby.  "You owe me, big man; she explained it perfectly.  Drinks at The Standard on Sunset.  And no scheduling glitches, either; tomorrow night after the Warner Bros. fundraiser."

Toby didn't answer with words, but the look he gave her was probably clear enough.

Douglas-Radford paused and gave a discreet nod to the moderator's time warning.  "No matter what happens with voter reform before the upcoming election, I urge every citizen of this country to vote.  For over two hundred years, our brothers and sisters have fought and died to preserve our right to vote.  The opportunity to participate in your government should be cherished.  On election day, make sure your voice is heard.  I don't care who you vote for, just get out there and vote."

"What?" Josh exploded, staring at the screen.  He really thought he'd broken Douglas-Radford of that annoying habit of saying true but politically unwise things.  "Did she just say--"

"Yes," Toby answered tiredly.  "Someone's going to have to talk to her about--"

"About telling people to vote for other candidates?" Josh yelled, pacing in tight circles next to the TV.

"That's not what she did," Donna pointed out.

"Close enough."

"Josh, you're being ridiculous."

He turned on her.  "I'm being ridiculous?  The sound byte tonight is going to be 'I don't care who you vote for!'  I would hope that, as the press secretary, you'd take this a little more seriously!"

"Josh," CJ snapped.  "Cool it or get out."

Josh glanced over at CJ.  "Excuse me?"

"This is my suite," she reminded him.  "If you're going to start with the attitude, then you're no longer welcome here."

Hands on his hips, Josh glared at her for a few moments, then looked over at Donna.  Her mouth was drawn in a tight line, she was pale, and she was also studiously avoiding his gaze.  But it was the defeated curve of her shoulders that gave him pause.  "Look, I'm sorry that I--"

A sharp knock interrupted his apology, and he ran a hand over his face as CJ answered the door.  When he chanced a look at Donna, she was staring past him toward CJ, her mouth hanging open.

Josh whirled around, but all he could see was CJ, staring out into the hallway.  He took a couple of steps, attempting to see who was out there.

"Sam!" CJ's voice was warm but shocked.

Josh froze right where he was as Sam Seaborn sauntered into the hotel room, dressed like he just stepped out of an Armani ad and grinning at Donna and Toby.

Then he turned a stony expression Josh's way.  "Do you have a minute?"

Josh glanced over at Donna.  "Donna, I need--"

"Go," she ordered, her tone icy.  "I've got serious press secretary duties to attend to."

"Donna--"

The look on her face stopped him mid-sentence.  He nodded, then followed Sam into the hallway.

***

Sam paced the hall, unnerved now that he was face to face with Josh for the first time since their blowup at the party.  Well, really, his blowup at the party; Josh had mostly stared at him in shock.  Sam did not want to have this conversation, and it didn't help that Josh, the poster boy for entropy, was leaning against the wall, hands tucked demurely in his pockets.

Donna was right, Sam thought.  Josh looked bad.  Well, it was good to see him, definitely, but he looked older.  A little ragged around the edges, like he hadn't had a full night's sleep in far too long.  Funny how Sam hadn't noticed all of this at the party; he'd been too blinded by his anger.

"So," Josh prompted, a trace of irony in his voice.  "What brings you to sunny southern California?"

Sam's jaw clenched against the first response that came to mind.

The corner of Josh's mouth turned up in a knowing smile.  "I get the feeling you're still pretty pissed at me," he offered.

"Ya think?" Sam asked, wicked with sarcasm.

Josh held his gaze.  "You have every right--"

"Well, thank you, Josh, for acknowledging my rights.  How kind of you."

"Sam--"

"No," he snapped, still pacing in short bursts of energy.  "I think it's time you heard this.  Everyone else is apparently too thankful to the Great and Powerful Josh Lyman--"

Josh's expression hardened.  "Sam--"

"--but I've known you too long."

"You have," Josh answered, pushing away from the wall to block Sam's path.  "Which is why I'd think you, of all the people I've managed to hurt, would be able to understand why I--"

"I do understand!  Gardner, Bartlet, Hoynes, Douglas-Radford," Sam ticked the names off on his fingers.  "You can't resist a challenge.  You never could!"

"Sam--"

"No, let me speak, dammit.  You wouldn't listen to me three years ago; the least you can do is shut your goddamn mouth for five minutes now."  Sam forced himself to stop, breathing hard as he waited for Josh's response.

Josh was tense, his body practically vibrating, but he dipped his chin in agreement.  "Fair enough."

"It was the challenge," Sam repeated, calmer now that Josh was actually listening.  "It always has been.  You have this..."  He shrugged. "...this need to be the best at everything.  What other adult in America can still recite his SAT scores and his undergraduate GPA?  You didn't even want law school until you kicked ass on the LSAT, and you only took that because you thought your father wanted you to."

"Sam," Josh warned.

Sam held up a placating hand.  "I don't get it, Josh.  Why do you do the things you do?  I'm sorry," he hesitated, his voice softening.  His hand drifted to his chest, emphasizing his words.  "I am so sorry about Joanie.  You know I am.  But no one who loves you -- not your father or your mother or Donna, me, Leo, CJ -- None of us needs you to prove yourself."

Josh let his breath out in a long, unsteady stream.  "Sam, that's not--"

"Josh, there is not a single person in this world who believes you deserved to die in that fire," Sam said slowly.  "Except maybe you.  And that's why you always do this.  You're trying to prove your worth to people who already love you."

Unable to respond, Josh ducked his head.

Sam sighed.  "Yes, Josh, I'm still pissed at you for walking out, but not for the reasons you think.  You hurt a lot of people that day.  You broke Donna's heart.  But the person you hurt the most was you.  It's always been you."

Josh swiped a hand over his face, attempting to shield the tear tracks from Sam's view.  "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Sam watched him -- the sagging shoulders, the hitch in his breath -- and debated with himself.  Then he pulled Josh against him for a quick, hard hug.  "There are some other people who need to hear that," Sam said.  He held Josh at arm's length.  "Don't apologize for leaving," Sam instructed as Josh backed away.  "Apologize for not looking back."

"Yeah," Josh nodded.

Sam let the silence stand for a long moment, then adopted a lighter tone.  "So I was listening to the debate on my way over here..."

A grin teased at the corners of Josh's mouth.  "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah.  She seems genuine.  She's good on the issues."

The dimples made an appearance.  "She is."

"Bit of a faux pas there with the 'I don't care who you vote for' thing," Sam observed.  "Sounds like you need a writer."

***

CJ stood in the middle of her hotel suite and frowned at Toby and Donna in turn.  Toby was watching the post-debate coverage, waiting for the Governor to make it back upstairs.  Although Donna, as press secretary, would normally be down there in the midst of the chaos, Josh had convinced her to wait for the second debate.  Douglas-Radford's gubernatorial press secretary, Carrie Caruso, was handling this instead.

CJ glared at the door through which Josh had disappeared with Sam -- Did he really think obvious distrust was the way to help Donna build her confidence? -- and glanced over at Donna.  She'd retreated to the small table near the window after Josh left and was scribbling in her notebook, pausing every so often to think, the end of her pen dimpling her lip.

Wandering over to the table, CJ said, "She did well, don't you think?"

Donna glanced up with a wan smile.  "Yeah, she really made a positive impression.  We'll probably get a two or three point bump tomorrow.  She was particularly good on the economy and affirmative action."

CJ nodded thoughtfully.  "And gun control."  No matter how many years passed, the memories of That Night -- the deafening sound of gunshots, the panicky, nauseated feeling, the dizzying, fragmented flashing lights reflecting off the shattered glass that littered the pavement -- they never faded the way the good moments did.

"CJ?"

CJ took a steadying breath and met Donna's gaze.  "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah."  CJ waved off Donna's concern.  "Listen, I know that Josh can be--"

"I don't want to talk about that."  Donna busied herself with her notes.

"Donna--"

"Hey," said a familiar voice in a more cheerful tone than CJ'd heard from him in a long time.  "I think we should definitely sit down with the Governor and explain why 'I don't care who you vote for' isn't the best phrase to use."

CJ whirled around to find Sam Seaborn standing just inside the door wearing that Bartlet-era, turn-the-world-on-with-his-smile expression.  Josh leaned against the doorway right behind him, looking a bit shaken, actually.

"You're joining the campaign?" Donna asked.  She was standing next to CJ suddenly, and she didn't sound at all surprised.  In fact, her tone was a strange mixture of happiness and trepidation.

Sam's smile faltered the slightest bit.  "If you'll have me."

Toby rose from his chair and stood uncertainly, his eyes on Donna.  Sam and Josh watched her too; and although CJ wasn't entirely sure why Donna seemed to have the deciding vote, she turned to the woman beside her with a curious look.

Donna nodded at Sam.  "I'm glad you're here, Sam."  And that was all it took to break the spell.

CJ crossed the room and grabbed Sam into a hug.  "Welcome back, Sparky," she whispered so that only he could hear.  "I've missed you."

He tightened his arms around her, then stepped back, blinking suspiciously.  "Me too.  I'm sorry about your New Year's Eve party, CJ."

She actually laughed.  "Don't give it another thought.  I understand why, Sam.  I always have."

His brow furrowed, but before he could speak, Toby appeared at Sam's elbow.

"You," Toby told Sam, "are going to be responsible for the majority of the speechwriting."  CJ reached over and squeezed Toby's arm appreciatively.  That was the highest compliment -- and the warmest welcome -- he could give his former deputy.

Sam blinked a couple times, shocked.  "Why?"

"We're gonna change the way campaigns are run, Sam," Toby explained, his hands painting pictures in the air.  "Fifty percent voter turnout? Fifty percent of the people who've bothered to register in the first place?  That's bullshit.  Screw the pollsters and their obsession with calling the race before it starts.  Screw the DNC and the RNC and their reliance on voter trends and voter history.  I want every single kid who turned eighteen since the last elections at the polls.  I want people who've been too disgusted to vote in years to get out there and make their voices heard.  I want these people to vote for Douglas-Radford, of course; but more than anything, I want them to vote."

It took Sam a couple moments to digest Toby's words.  Then a genuine grin lit up his face.  "Wow."

CJ nodded.  "Yes.  This is it, Sam."

Sam met her gaze, still beaming, and said, "Sounds like it."  He turned his attention back to Toby.  "You're directing that aspect of things?  Tell me how we're doing this."

CJ stepped back, letting Toby explain his plans to Sam.  She glanced over toward the table near the window.

Josh was sitting with Donna, now, leaning toward her.  He held one of her hands in his and was speaking quietly.  CJ's focus shifted to Donna, who watched him, her brittle expression softening to one of acceptance and quiet pride.  CJ grinned at them, because clearly Josh was apologizing for being a big yutz earlier.

His kneecaps would live to see another day.

"Hey."  Evan wrapped an arm lightly around her waist.  "Sam's here?"

"Yeah."  CJ was surprised to hear how unsteady her voice sounded.  She turned to her husband.  "He joined the campaign."

Evan enclosed her in a hug, pulling her close against his firm chest.  "That's a good thing, right?"

Leaning back a bit, CJ gave him a look.  "Of course it is."

"Well," he grinned, "you were sounding a little waterlogged there, so--"

"Shut up."  CJ pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then turned back to the others.  Finally, she thought.  They were finally fixing what went wrong three years ago.

***

Sam had forgotten how much he enjoyed the campaign bus experience.  He'd initially been prepared to hate it.  The idea of traveling for hours on end with the same group of people crowded onto a bus seemed so outmoded and inefficient.  And yet, during the Bartlet For America campaign, he'd come to love those nights on the bus.  All these years later, boarding a remarkably similar bus on a different campaign, little moments he hadn't thought about in years came back to him.

Toby always liked to sit in the back, isolating himself from everyone else, while he made last-minute changes to his speeches.

At some point, CJ would inevitably sit down next to Toby and pester him until he took part in the conversations going on around him.

Mandy would always find something to complain about to anyone who would listen.  Even if she was reduced to complaining about the fact that she was riding on a bus.

Zoey would move from one seat to another, asking everyone detailed questions about what they were working on and what they thought her father's chances of winning were like.

Josh and Donna always sat together, on the left-hand side of the bus, near the front.  Unless Zoey or Mandy thought of a reason to interrupt their conversation, Josh and Donna seemed oblivious to the presence of anyone else during those journeys.

Sam no longer remembered which of that endless string of campaign trips it had happened on, but he still remembered the night he first realized that Josh and Donna had what he'd called subtext.  That night, he remembered, he'd been pissed because Mandy had decided to sit next to him and regale him with tales of how their media strategy sucked because Josh and Leo had refused to take her advice.  But even as she was haranguing, Mandy's attention had seemed divided.  Her eyes kept wandering to the front of the bus -- to Josh and Donna.

Sam vividly recalled the sight that had inflamed Mandy -- Josh and Donna huddled together, their foreheads practically touching as they carried on an intense, whispered conversation.  There had been a moment when Josh had thrown his head back and laughed at something Donna said.  And Donna had glowed, as though amusing Josh Lyman was the noblest calling a woman could have.  But it had been later, when Donna fell asleep with her head resting against Josh's shoulder, that Sam had had a profound sense of what he himself was missing.  He'd watched, strangely fascinated, as Josh slowly stretched out his arm and gently pulled Donna's sleeping body closer.  At that moment, Sam had been overcome by a wave of longing.  He doubted he'd ever have the kind of intimacy Josh and Donna had fallen into so effortlessly.

All these years later, he still didn't think he'd ever have that.  He'd spent years being angry at Josh for throwing away something as rare as Sam had first glimpsed that night.  Which, he knew, begged the question of why he was so set against Donna's getting involved with Josh again.

He looked around, noting how quickly they seemed to fall back into the old patterns.  Toby had already claimed the back row of seats for himself, scattering books and papers on the adjoining seat -- Toby's method of erecting barriers between himself and the others when he was working.  Not that this technique would do him much good, Sam noted with a smile.  CJ had taken her favorite seat, right in the middle of the bus, so she could keep an eye on them all.  Evan occupied the window seat next to his wife now, but anyone who knew CJ understood that it would just be a matter of minutes until she was moving through the bus, keeping all of them -- especially Toby -- conversing.

He watched Donna get on the bus, looking around hesitantly.  As though she was coming to some sort of crucial decision, she nodded to herself and took her usual seat.

Josh hadn't arrived yet.

Sam left the seat he'd taken across from CJ and Evan and sat next to Donna.

She'd been staring out the window and turned to look at him when he sat down.  For just a moment, her face lit up and he recalled the younger Donna -- the one from the Bartlet For America campaign and the White House, the woman he'd thought of as one of the few fundamentally happy people he'd ever known.  He'd always thought Donna and her high spirits were so good for Josh.  Josh, with his tendency to find the cloud behind every silver lining, needed someone like that, someone whose personality was rooted in a sense of idealism and a certain naiveté.

He'd never taken into account how Josh's arrogance and ambition and his damn morose spells might destroy a person like Donna.

He watched Donna do that thing he'd seen way too often since Josh had swept back into their lives -- that moment when she tried to disguise her disappointment when the person sitting next to her wasn't Josh Lyman.

He pretended not to notice and launched into his apology.  "So I guess I was pretty much an ass the last time we talked."

"Pretty much," Donna agreed.

"I was out of line, and I'm sorry, Donna.  Really."

She put her hand on his arm and smiled.  Her smiles didn't reach her eyes the way they had back when Josh was the center of her universe.  "For what it's worth, Sam, I said some things I regret too."

"Yeah, he doesn't bring out the best in either of us, does he?"

"No.  Too much history there, I suppose."

"The thing is," Sam started, "as much as I try to hate him, I can never quite manage it."

"It's entirely too easy to not hate him." S he smiled for a second as though she knew something Sam hadn't figured out, and he wondered if she'd ended up in bed with Josh again already.

He told himself that was absolutely none of his business.

"I mean," he started again, "I told myself I wouldn't join the campaign, not even if he begged, but here I am."

"And he didn't even have to beg," Donna noted.

"Hell, he didn't even have to ask.  How does he do that?  Why do we keep buying into it?"

"Because he's Josh," she answered.  "Because of all those things you said in San Francisco, Sam.  I swear he's like this force of nature sometimes.  You think you're happy; you think you're fine without him.  Then he sweeps back in, and you're questioning everything you thought you'd worked out about yourself.  And you have to go with him and see where this thing will lead."

"Me, I'm afraid of where it's leading," he admitted.

Donna looked as though she wanted to say something else, but that was when she caught sight of Josh walking toward them uncertainly, as though he didn't know what he should do next.  It was the uncertainty that made Sam give in, because it was so unlike Josh.

Sam stood up and moved aside.  "I think this is where you want to be," he told Josh.

"You don't mind?" Josh asked.

Sam found that he couldn't keep a certain amount of bitterness out of his voice, especially not with Josh standing so close.  "No, I don't mind," he replied.  "I know my place here."

Sam moved back to his original seat.  CJ leaned over and patted his hand for a second.  Really, he told himself, there was nothing to be afraid of -- Toby, CJ, Donna, Josh -- these were the people he loved most in the world.  They were his family, and he finally had them back.  After a moment, Sam took his eyes off Josh's awkward attempts to reestablish his bond with Donna and concentrated instead on enjoying the camaraderie he'd missed so much these last three years.

***

Toby shifted in his seat, trying his best to ignore the inane conversation going on around him.  It didn't really work, considering Sam, Donna, CJ and Josh chose to have the damn discussion from their seats all around him, and the bus was too damn small.  They had the entire rest of the bus to have their inane debate or turn cartwheels or do whatever spun their windvanes, but instead they chose to cluster around Toby in the last several rows.

Damn bus.  Toby closed his eyes tighter and willed them all to go away.

Kneeling backwards in the seat in front of Toby, Sam suggested, "We Will Rock You?"

With a heavy sigh, Toby opened his eyes and glared.  "Yeah, Sam, 'cause that wouldn't have the editorial cartoonists giddy with glee."

Sam gave him an offended look.  "Well, then, Toby, what do you suggest?"

"I have many suggestions," Toby answered, turning a bit to the side and closing his eyes again.  "I just choose not to make them right now."

"What's that mean?" CJ demanded, leaning across the aisle to poke him in the arm.  Toby turned to her and glowered.  She grinned back.

"Who cares?"  This from Josh, who was pacing up and down the small aisle like an addict in need of a fix.  He stopped a couple feet in front of them and turned back. "I think we should go old school.  Something from the late sixties, something that's got caché with the hippies and the 18-25s."

"Yeah," CJ scoffed.  "'Cause I'm sure the Republicans wouldn't jump all over us using Bob Dylan."

Toby stifled an appreciative snort of laughter, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Not Dylan."  Josh answered, ignoring her sarcasm completely.  "Maybe Pete Seeger.  Joan Baez."

"Joan Baez," CJ pointed out, "very often sang Dylan songs.  Besides which, they were lovers.  I don't see how picking Joan Baez instead of Bob Dylan would--"

"I've got it!" Donna interrupted, sitting up so she could see over the high seatback.  She was still sitting about halfway up the bus, across from Evan, who was quietly clattering away at his keyboard.

CJ stared at Donna expectantly, then made an impatient motion with her hand.  "What?"

Donna positively grinned.  "I Am Woman."

Twisted halfway around in his seat, Sam ducked his head to hide his smile.  Evan snickered, CJ laughed outright, and Josh threw his hands up in the air.  Toby merely stared at Donna, nonplussed.

"I Am Woman?" Josh repeated.  "You want to use some cheesy 1970s Helen Reddy tune?"

"A new arrangement," Donna sniffed, standing somewhat unsteadily as the bus leaned its way around a curve in the road.  "I'm thinking k.d. lang."

"Oh, good," Josh replied.  "'Cause we really need to win the lesbian country music fan vote."

"To be fair," CJ interjected, "I'm pretty sure no one's ever courted the lesbian country music fan vote.  There could be unexplored potential there."  CJ and Donna exchanged grins as Josh turned away in mock disgust and resumed his pacing.

Sam leaned on the back of his seat, staring down at Toby.  "Isn't there a song called Love Me Because I'm Liberal?"

Toby gave him a pained look.  "Love Me, I'm a Liberal."

"Even better!"  Sam glanced over at Josh with an idiotic grin in place.  "What about that one?"

"I'm guessing," Toby said, "since you couldn't even recall the title correctly, that you don't remember the lyrics?"

"Well..." Sam shrugged.  "Isn't about how the singer's a liberal and therefore people should love him?"

With a long-suffering sigh, Toby answered, "The song is about hypocrites, Sam.  'I love Harry and Sidney and Sammy, I hope every colored boy becomes a star, but don't talk about revolution, that's going a little bit too far.'"

From his seat half a bus-length away, Evan burst out laughing.  "I think Baker should use that one."

CJ beamed at her husband. Josh snickered and leaned his hip against the seatback just in front of her, while Sam grinned widely down at Toby.

Toby merely stared at Sam.  "Be that as it may, I really don't think hypocrisy's the message we want out there."

"Oh." Sam sat back, deflated.  "Well, okay then."

"Does this have to be decided tonight?" Toby demanded.

"Yes," Donna answered promptly, moving a few rows down to join the group.  "Considering that we're halfway to New Hampshire and we're going to need something to play over the loudspeaker when the Governor comes out to speak--"

"Fine," Toby said, rubbing the side of his head with his hand.  "Can we hurry this along?"

Josh stopped halfway up the length of the bus and turned back.  "Who wrote that?"

Sam frowned.  "'Can we hurry this along?' I don't think--"

"No." Josh rolled his eyes.  "Love Me, I'm a Liberal."

CJ snapped her fingers.  "It was... that guy -- what's his name?  He killed himself in the late sixties, didn't he?"

"Phil Ochs," Toby supplied in an incredibly condescending tone.  "Second in popularity only to Dylan.  Until Dylan plugged in at Newport, anyway.  And Ochs killed himself in 1976, CJ."

CJ laughed at him.  "Thank you, Abbie Hoffman."

Josh shook his head, his eyes narrowing.  "No, wait.  Wasn't there...  There was another song."

"By Phil Ochs?" Sam asked.

"Yeah."

Toby blinked.  "Josh?"

"What?"

"Phil Ochs was an incredibly prolific songwriter," Toby said.  "There were many other songs."

"Were they all political?" Donna nudged Sam and settled on the armrest of his seat when he shifted over to give her room.

Toby shrugged.  "Pretty much.  Draft Dodger Rag is one of those songs that gets stuck in your head for days.  There was another one, a satirical song about Birmingham and desegregation.  Something like Birmingham Jam?"  He stared out the window into the darkness, one hand rubbing his beard as he tried to recall the details.

"There was one about power," Josh offered.

CJ shot him a look.  "You wouldn't have been a very good student activist there, Josh."

"Hey," he protested with that familiar smirk.  "I would've been fine, as long as they let me be in charge."

CJ smiled and shook her head.  "What a surprise that Josh Lyman remembers the one folk song with the word 'power' in the title."

Toby jerked his head around.  "The Power and the Glory."

"Yes," Josh nodded enthusiastically.  "Wasn't that about America?  Preserving our freedoms or..."  He shrugged.  "...something?"

"'Only as rich as the poorest of her poor, only as...as..." Toby groaned.  "Hang on," he held a hand up for silence, eyes tightly shut as he hummed a little under his breath.

CJ and Donna exchanged incredulous looks, while Sam merely stared at his former boss, mouth ajar.  Josh leaned closer, concentrating, trying to remember--

Loud acoustic guitar rang out from the middle of the bus.

Startled, all five of them turned to face Evan, who was holding his laptop aloft and grinning at them.  "I downloaded the file while you were humming.  Is this the song?"

They stood in a loose semi-circle, swaying a bit with the motion of the bus, and listened to the song in silence.  Then they exchanged small, satisfied smiles.

"Yes," Josh said.  "That's the one."

***

"Vote, baby, vote," Sam crooned, his eyes closed in concentration.  "Are you registered?"

Josh threw back his head and laughed.  God, it felt good just joking around with them again.  He and Sam had managed some strange sort of truce, Donna wasn't ready to kill him anymore, and CJ, Toby, and Evan could be a damn lot of fun.  All in all, the long trip from Pennsylvania to New Hampshire seemed like it might actually be kind of enjoyable.  He had yet to be locked in the bathroom, so it would have to be better than that one Oklahoma leg of the Bartlet for America bus tour at any rate.

CJ shook her head, but it took her a moment to catch her breath.  "Sam, that's terrible!"

With an offended look, Sam said, "It's quite a catchy little song."

"It's really not," Josh weighed in.  He'd settled onto the arm of the seat directly in front of CJ.  Which, coincidentally, placed him only inches away from Donna, who was still perched on the arm of Sam's seat just across the aisle.

Nose in the air, Sam sniffed, "Well, when Deee-lite sings it, it is."

"Deee-lite?" CJ laughed even harder, leaning against Evan who'd joined their band of merry political operatives at the back of the bus.  "You're singing songs from some mid-nineties one hit wonder?"

Sam's lips quirked upwards.  "Well, if the song fits..."

"Stop, I beg of you," Toby grumbled.

Josh narrowed his eyes and stared at Donna.  "How did we get from folk songs to club hits anyway?"

Toby gave him an eloquent look.  "Listened to a lot of protest music at Harvard in the eighties, did they?"

Donna leaned her elbow against the back of the seat, propped her chin in her hand, and gave Toby an amused look.

"No." Josh grinned.  "Huey Lewis was pretty popular though."

Donna made a disgusted face.  "And you didn't find that fact disturbing enough to protest?"

"I pretty much just locked myself up in my room and listened to Queen."

"Hey," Sam perked up.  "I loved Queen."

CJ and Donna exchanged small, amused smiles, but didn't comment.  Donna's cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her pocket.

Evan, still busy at work on his laptop, looked up.  "It's probably all for the best you didn't choose Love Me, I'm a Liberal.  Listen to this: I've grown older and wiser, and that's why I'm turning you in, so love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal."

Toby actually grinned.  "Yeah, I think we could write off the aging hippie vote after that."

The group laughed; and Donna, cell phone pressed to her ear, jumped up and waved an arm around.  They immediately quieted, watching her with varying degrees of interest.

"We have no comment on that at this time," Donna said.

Josh raised his eyebrows, tossing a worried glance at CJ, who merely shrugged.

"No, sir.  The Governor has no comment.  The makeup of the campaign staff--"  She stopped, her expression darkening as she listened to the caller.  "I'm not going to comment on the record.  You can ask me seventeen different ways, but my answer will be the same: no comment."

Toby shifted in his seat, his attention utterly focused on Donna.

Face flushed with anger, Donna nonetheless managed to keep her voice calm.  "Once again, the Governor has no--"  She rolled her eyes.  "Well, I'll look forward to reading your article then."

"Who the hell was that?" Josh demanded, his entire body taut as a wire.

"Roger Patterson from the Charleston Citizen," Donna answered.

"Oh, God," CJ said.  "Already?  They're already on us?"

"What'd he want a comment on?" Toby asked quietly.

Donna crossed her arms.  "Well, he phrased it a few different ways, but the basic idea was 'Is Governor Douglas-Radford purposefully assembling the team of obfuscators involved in the massive coverup by former President Bartlet in order to hide her criminal past?'"

Sam stiffened.  "Criminal past?"

Toby answered, but he didn't break Josh's gaze.  "The Governor was arrested in 1969 during a protest against the war.  No charges were filed, and she was one of several hundred protestors to be arrested.  It's legit, Sam."

Josh blew out a frustrated breath.  "It's legit, but it's gonna be a thing," he acknowledged.

"It's the Charleston Citizen," CJ pointed out.  "Who cares what they write?  Does anyone take that paper seriously?  I mean, they endorsed Jesse Helms until he dropped dead, no matter how batty he got toward the end."

"Depends on how seriously the Baker folks are taking us," Josh answered, his expression faraway as he considered the situation.  It could be front page news, or it could die in the right-wing rag for which Roger Patterson worked.  Hard to say what the press would care about on any given day.  "CJ, what--"  He stopped, glanced down, and then started over, locking eyes with Donna.  "Do you think the wires will pick it up?"

Donna shrugged.  "Probably.  It's a story, but whether it goes any further really depends on how she does in New Hampshire."

CJ nodded her approval.  "Right.  Kind of a catch-22."

Evan gave them all a strange look.  "What the hell are you lunatics talking about?"

"If she does well in New Hampshire, then the Republican hate machine will kick into high gear," Donna explained.  "They'll go digging, and the right-wing rags are the first place they'll look.  This'll hit the papers and the news.  But if she does poorly..."  Donna trailed off with a shrug.

"No one will care?" Evan surmised.  He fixed his wife with a look.  "And you wonder why I find politics ridiculous.  Either it's a story or it's not; it shouldn't matter how well she's doing in the primaries!"

"The Republicans don't want to go negative unless they have to," Toby said.

Sam grimaced.  "If they're perceived as attacking a candidate who's not doing well, the negative ads end up hurting them more than their target."

Evan shook his head.  "I have no patience for this bullshit."

Josh grinned.  "Me, neither.  That's why I hire such fabulous communications people."

CJ rolled her eyes, and Donna reached over and poked Josh in the ribs.  The yelp he let out was incredibly high-pitched.

Toby cleared his throat.  "What's the strategy?"

"No comment," Donna answered.  "We're not going to acknowledge a smear campaign in a backwards-thinking 'news'paper.  If it gets picked up, we issue a simple statement with the facts and refer them to the Governor's many remarks on the subject from her previous campaigns."

"And if that's considered evasive?"

"Then we have the speechwriters give us a brand new statement re-emphasizing the facts of the case," Donna answered promptly.

Toby nodded.  "Good."

Josh leaned over and lowered his voice so that only Donna could hear.  "Good job."

She shot him a strange look, then smiled, ducking her head.

Evan sighed.  "So I have a question."

CJ turned a little in her seat.  "Yes?"

"Are they going to try to dig up dirt on you?"

"On me personally?"

With an impatient look, Evan indicated the entire group with a wave of his hand.  "On all of you.  Like they did during the Healthgate hearings."

"Can we please not call them the Healthgate hearings?" Josh interjected.

Evan didn't take his eyes off of CJ.  "Whatever.  I just want to know if they'll concentrate their vituperation on Douglas-Radford, or if we're all going to be targets."

CJ glanced over at Donna, then Toby.  With a sigh, she nodded.  "Yes."

"We are?" Evan pressed.

"Yes," CJ said, taking hold of his hand.  "We'll all be put under a microscope, Evan.  You will too, most likely."

Evan nodded slowly.  "This is going to get ugly, isn't it?"

With a quick glance at Donna, Josh nodded.  "Yes, Evan.  It probably will."

***

Josh was almost positive the small, borderline scary bar in the tiny and decidedly frightening town of Quinnebaug, Connecticut had never before seen the likes of them.  Quinnebaug was, from all appearances, a working class town.  Politicos in Armani and Brooks Brothers were a curiosity; drunken pols were downright bizarre.  But Ginny, the bartender, kept the drinks coming, which was all that mattered in the end.

Wedged into the corner of the too small table, Josh was both quiet and the only sober person there.  He was still nursing his first beer, although he didn't think anyone really noticed.  Except possibly Donna, who had slowed down after three whiskey sours.  CJ and Evan had shared a bottle of wine before moving on to martinis, Sam had downed four beers, and Toby was several drinks ahead of them all, as usual.  In short, Douglas-Radford had kicked some ass at the speech in Worcester, the former Bartlet staffers seemed to be losing their awkwardness, and they were all feeling quite giddy.

Except Josh, who still felt too much of an outsider to really let himself enjoy the evening.  He was laughing, though, along with everyone else at Toby and Evan, who were telling stories in their own, unique ways (Toby at his most droll, and Evan with an evil skill for mimicry) in an apparent game of one-upmanship.

Tears streaming down cheeks flushed with amusement, CJ held up a hand.  "Wait!  Evan, tell them about Gloria and--"  She broke off, unable to continue, and dropped her head onto her arms.

Evan rolled his eyes at Donna.  "Gloria and?" he prompted, then leaned closer to his wife to hear her response.  "The Drano?"

Donna's eyes widened comically.  "You poisoned your cat?"

"No!" CJ yelped, jerking upright.  "No, the drain -- You know the sink in the guest bathroom?"  Donna nodded.  "It has this annoying tendency to--"

"CJ used Drano on the sink," Evan summarized, laughing.

"I can tell the story," CJ insisted.  "I used Drano on the... the thing."

"The drain," Evan supplied, grinning.

CJ elbowed him drunkenly.  "The drain.  And the cat--"

"You know," Sam interjected soberly, "Drano is really bad for the environment."

Toby groaned into his scotch, Donna snickered, and CJ frowned.  "Well, then what do you use?"

Sam brightened.  "A combination of vinegar and baking soda."

Donna nearly choked on a sip of her drink, and Josh's attention caught on her throat, then drifted to the soft curve of her lips as she smiled at Sam.

"That's disgusting!"  CJ wrinkled up her nose.

"Not really," Sam insisted eagerly.  "What you do is--"

"Sam," Toby sighed.  "Can we please?"

"I was trying to be helpful," Sam pointed out with a hurt look.

"You were," Donna consoled.  "I never knew you could use--"

"CJ," Toby all but roared.  "Tell us about the damn cat."

CJ glared at him and shook her head.  "You know, the story's not even going to be funny now that--"

"The cat jumped in the sink," Evan said, "and CJ goes running in there, shrieking like a--"

CJ raised an eyebrow.  "Shrieking?"

Evan smirked at her and continued, "Shrieking in the dulcet tones of an angel, and--"

CJ groaned and turned to Toby.  "We had to give the cat an impromptu bath."

Toby, Sam, Donna, and Josh stared at CJ, who sighed.  "It really was quite funny."

Toby rolled his eyes, Donna and Josh traded amused looks, and Sam snickered.

"Great story, CJ," Josh smirked.

"Oh, shut up," she countered.  "Like your thing about the foot long sub was a knee-slapper."

Donna downed the rest of her drink and slammed the glass down on the table.  "I have one!"

Josh grinned.  "Do tell."

"Picture this," she began, suppressing a smile, "it's been a long, impossible day with the Walking Ego over here--"

"Hey!" Josh protested cheerfully.

"--And I decide I deserve a bubblebath."

Josh stilled immediately, his attention captured by the images he had fought so long to banish from his consciousness.  He missed the beginning of the story, as Donna told it, pausing every so often to laugh.

"So the stupid cat gets a little too close to the candle, only his fur's so long that he doesn't even notice that he's on fire--"

"Oh, no," CJ moaned, her shoulders shaking.

"Yes," Donna answered, her eyes bright with amusement.  "Of course Bootsies takes off--"

"Wait." Toby held up a hand.  "You named your cat Bootsies?"

"My old roommate did," Donna shrugged.

Laughing, Josh shook his head.  "Hang on. Donna, you're telling it wrong:  Your old roommate...?" he prompted.

Donna rolled her eyes.  "Candi."

Toby blinked.  "Her name was Candi?"

"Well, I assume it still is Candi, Toby," Donna frowned, "She's not, like, dead or anything--"

"You know what?" Toby said.  "Forget I asked."

"Anyway," Donna continued with a mild glare in Toby's direction, "Bootsies takes off, terrified.  So I end up chasing the cat around the apartment, stark naked and dripping bubbles everywhere," Donna finished, collapsing back in her seat.

Toby snickered into his beer, Sam and Evan laughed outright, and CJ still had her head buried in her arms.  Josh, though, was struck utterly dumb by the vivid memories.  And sitting across the table from Donna in a bar in East Nowhere, Connecticut, enjoying her company in a way he hadn't in three years, it brought Josh's yearning back with interest.

Donna, with her impeccable timing, caught his gaze, her smile fading as she scanned his face.  "Josh?" she asked quietly.

He felt the attention of the entire table on him -- Evan's curious arched eyebrow, CJ's mouth frowning slightly in warning, Toby with a knowing look, and Sam glowering in a Tobylike manner -- and forced himself to smile.  "It's nothing."  His tone was wholly unconvincing, but he glanced away from her and tried for cheerful.  "Who wants another round?"

*** 

Donna felt like skipping.  She hadn't felt like skipping for -- well, for years.  But she was tipsy and all the people she loved were back where they belonged, working together, and Josh was smiling.  This combination of events called for skipping.  So she skipped her way out of the bar.

"You look about fourteen years old there, Donnatella," Josh said.

She decided to let him off with a warning this time.  "Ix-nay on the Onnatella-day," she told him.  She leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear, "Sam gets upset."

Josh was clearly puzzled by her comments.  She wondered whether she'd whispered so low that he couldn't understand her or whether he hadn't figured out about Sam yet.

For half a second, she considered telling him but then decided it was none of her business.

Josh put an arm around her.  "You always were a cute drunk," he said.

"You weren't," she replied as they headed toward the hotel, Sam and Toby trailing behind them.  "And I never get drunk.  Just tipsy."

"Right," Josh agreed.  It was his "let's humor my ditzy assistant" voice.  She thought she should remind him that she was neither ditzy nor his assistant, but it was too much effort.

Besides, something was wrong with her eyesight.  She was clearly hallucinating.  She was seeing reporters.

Usually, when she was tipsy, she hallucinated naked Joshes, so this threw her for a moment.

"Is it true that Josiah Bartlet intends to formally endorse Governor Douglas-Radford during a party on Sunday?" a reporter asked.  The reporter had a name, and she knew it.  She'd made a point of memorizing all the names of the reporters on the press bus -- sadly, there weren't that many -- but none of the names were matching up to the faces.

"What?" Josh asked.  "What party?"

"The party," Sam repeated, using his "for god's sake, pretend you're not surprised" voice.  She doubted it fooled the reporters any more than it fooled her.

"Does the party represent a formal endorsement from the former President of the United States or not?" another reporter asked.

Damn.  She had an answer to this one.  A simple, elegant answer.  And her mind was working too slowly.  Damn those uncooperative higher brain functions.

"This is the first--" Josh started before Toby's quiet voice said his name.  Josh glanced at Toby, then at Donna.  He nodded and fell silent, but she knew him too well.  She understood the body language.  He was poised to rush to her defense the moment he thought she was in over her head.  And clearly he thought she was treading water already.

For an instant, the years faded away and she was the college dropout who could be hurt for weeks by an offhand comment about her lack of self-worth.  Then she reminded herself that she'd stopped being that person a long time ago, and she turned her attention back to the reporters.  Her higher brain functions switched back on, and she remembered her answer.

"President Bartlet is giving a small private party to celebrate his daughter Elizabeth's recovery from breast cancer.  Because several members of the Governor's campaign staff are fortunate enough to be friends of Liz Bartlet and because we happen to be in the area, President and Dr. Bartlet have been gracious enough to invite us and to extend an invitation to Governor Douglas-Radford and her husband as well.  It's strictly a private function."

Half a dozen reporters started screaming more questions.  Donna was fairly certain she heard the word "Healthgate" in two of them, but she managed not to blink.  "If you have any further questions, you'll have to ask President Bartlet's spokesperson," she said.  Then she moved past the reporters toward the elevator, Toby and Sam following along her.  The elevator doors had safely closed behind them before she realized that she was still clinging to Josh's arm.

"Shit," she muttered, letting go of Josh and collapsing against the elevator wall.

"You did fine," Sam assured her.

"There's a party?" Josh asked.  "Why did no one bother to tell me this?"

The elevator doors opened just as Sam and Toby were exchanging looks.  "Josh," she said, "could we maybe discuss this in private?"

"But Sam and Toby--"

"We need to--" Sam stopped, fumbling for something to say.

"Work on the thing?" Toby suggested.

"What thing?" Sam asked.  "Is there a thing?"

Toby gave a long-suffering sigh.  "There's always a thing."  He turned to Josh and Donna.  "Don't worry about this," he told her.  "You got caught off guard for a second.  It happens.  Ask CJ."

She watched Sam and Toby walk off together and pointed Josh in the direction of her room.

"So you guys were invited to a party at the Manchester house?" Josh asked once she'd closed the door.  Ordinarily, she'd have been concerned by the wounded tone in his voice, but her mind was on other things tonight.

"You were invited too, Josh.  That's not the point.  The point is your stepping in when--"

"I was invited?  You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure.  But what concerns me is--"

"Will -- Who all will be there?"

"Oh, for the love of God," she said, sitting down on the bed with a sigh.  "Yes, Josh, Leo will be there.  Can we talk--"

Josh leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.  "I can't do it.  I can't go."

She hated when he did this to her -- when he switched gears and moved things back to personal matters that made her want to hold him and promise that things would be all right.  She took a breath and refused to be distracted.

"You'll go because it will look extraordinarily bad if you don't.  Just like my drunken performance back there made us look unprofessional."

He opened his eyes again, looking at her with all the concern she'd refused to let herself feel for him.  "You were great back there," he told her.

"No, Josh, I wasn't."

"You said exactly the right thing."

"Eventually I said pretty much the right thing.  But I took too long, I stumbled over things, my reply was too wordy, and let's not forget my drunken entrance on the arms of my former lov -- boss."

"Your former love boss?"  The old smirk was back in place.  She did not find it charming, under the circumstances.

"Don't start," she warned.  "I screwed up, and we have to save this."

"We really don't," he said.  He knelt by the bed, putting his hands on her arms.  "You did great."

"Again, I point out that it was a disaster."

"Hey, I know a PR disaster when I see one, and this wasn't it.  You're talking to the architect of the secret plan to fight inflation, remember?"

"I did a dozen things wrong.  CJ would never have--"

"You did fine."

"Stop saying that," she said, her voice getting louder.  "If I were anyone else, you'd be yelling at me right now."

He stood up, moving away from her and settling back against the wall again.  "What the hell do you want from me, Donna?  First you're complaining that I never used to compliment you.  Now when I do, you blow up in my face."

"What I want is for you to be honest with me.  Yes, compliment me if I do something well, but admit it when I screw up.  Treat me like the press secretary, not like you feel guilty because we screwed up our friendship in Seattle."

He flinched, the way he always did whenever she mentioned Seattle, and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Okay, then," he said finally.  "Honestly.  It wasn't a major screw up, but you could have handled it better.  The press will try to ambush you sometimes, and you need to be prepared for that.  You can't let yourself be taken by surprise again."

"I know.  It won't happen again."

"You should maybe talk to CJ about how she handled that kind of thing."

"I will."

"For what it's worth, I did think you recovered quickly."

"Thanks."

"No problem.  Can I go now?"

She waved him out of the room.  "Go."

He paused at the door.  "You're sure I was included in that invitation?"

"Yes, I'm sure.  And, Josh, I think Leo's as worried about seeing you as you are about seeing him."

He gave a short, bitter laugh.  "You know that thing about not treating you different from anyone else because of Seattle?  That goes both ways, Donna.  There's no point in lying to me.  I know exactly how Leo feels."

***

Josh only made it a short distance down the hotel hallway before he had to stop and lean against the wall.  He turned, pressing his back against the plaster, and shut his eyes, concentrating on aligning each vertebrae the way he'd been taught.  Six years of this, and he still couldn't explain why flattening his back against a wall worked, but it did.

If pressed, Josh would admit to a sneaking suspicion that it was because he associated this particular mode of stress relief with the halcyon days of chaos and tension in the White House.  Even during the most stressful days, Josh had been able to carve out small pockets of time for himself.  Three years later, it still reminded him of his old office, his old assistant, and his old life.

Only it wasn't working there in some crappy Quality Inn in Connecticut.  Because it was reminding him of a hotel hallway in Seattle, of another time he'd left a painful confrontation and had to stop partway to his destination.

How the hell was he supposed to go to a party at the Bartlets' Manchester home?  How was he supposed to face Abbey Bartlet?  Jed Bartlet?

Leo McGarry?

Josh really didn't think it was possible.

It had been three months since he resurfaced in the lives of Donna, CJ, Sam and Toby; and they were just now learning how to interact without inadvertently stomping on each other's buttons.  Josh and Donna were still floundering, trying to figure out how to relate to each other in this new phase of their relationship; and he was sure that Sam was still angry, though he couldn't figure out why.

With Jed Bartlet -- with Leo McGarry -- he would only have one evening.  One evening of being surrounded by people he'd deserted three years ago.

People he'd disappointed three years ago.

Josh had never taken that well; even as a child, his parents could yell and scream at him to little effect.  But when they gave him that face and that tone of voice and said they were disappointed in him...  That was the worst feeling in the world, and Josh had been living with it for three years.

Jed Bartlet had used that tone of voice in Seattle.  Leo McGarry, even as he yelled, had given Josh that face.

Josh hated himself for disappointing Leo, and he couldn't imagine seeing either Leo or Jed Bartlet ever again.

Sunday, Josh thought as he pushed himself upright and trudged down the hall on trembling legs, was going to be the longest night of his life.

THE END

07.21.01