November 2005 - January 2006

"Did you see him yet?" Donna asked, sliding into the booth opposite Sam.

They had gotten into this habit of meeting for lunch every week while Donna was at Berkeley and Sam was establishing his new law practice in San Francisco.  Donna suspected that Sam's original motive had been to reassure himself that she was getting at least one good meal a week while on a student's budget, but she'd appreciated the gesture too much to make an issue of the fact that she didn't need someone taking care of her.  Besides, with Leo and Toby on the East Coast and Josh out of their lives for good, she and Sam and CJ had clung to each other like the survivors of a natural disaster.

Hurricane Joshua, Donna thought caustically.

"No," Sam replied.  His mouth was set in his usual bitter line -- Sam hardly ever smiled any more.  "And I'm not going to."

"Maybe you should, Sam.  Maybe you need closure."

Sam held his drink tightly in one hand.  "There's never closure," he said.  "There's only Josh storming back into your life and leaving a mess for someone else to clean up when he leaves."

"He looks terrible, Sam.  He looks worse than after Rosslyn."

"Is that my fault?  Is it your fault or CJ's or Toby's?  Did we say, 'Hey, jackass, here's an idea:  Why don't you walk out on your friends and your President and, oh yes, the woman who loves you, and screw up your worthless life?'"

"He thought he was doing the right thing," Donna said.  She felt as though she'd been having the same conversation with Sam for the last three years.  Maybe the fact that she was growing tired of rehashing How Josh Screwed Us Over was evidence that she was ready to move on.

Sam, as usual, ignored her.  "This right here -- this calling us all and trying to get us to work for Susan Douglas-Radford -- this is what he does.  He waits.  He gives you just enough time to build a decent life for yourself.  Just enough time so that you've stopped thinking about what your life used to be like back in DC.  Then when you're all comfortable and things finally start going your way again, he marches back into your life.  And it all sounds great at first.  He'll go on and on about the new candidate and all the good you can do, and you'll start thinking that maybe something is missing from your life after all.  Then you think that what he's selling is exactly what you need, and you're so damn grateful to him.  And then it all goes to hell, and he bails out on you."

"You're blaming him for too much, Sam.  Josh didn't know President Bartlet had MS.  Things were pretty much going to hell before Josh had a clue."

"The rest of us stuck it out though.  We didn't go over to Hoynes."

"Josh tried to get the President re-nominated, Sam.  Right down to the very last second, he was trying to pull off a miracle.  He didn't take Hoynes' offer until after the nomination was lost."

"You think Josh was the only one who got offers, Donna?  You don't think every one of us could have jumped ship?"

"I know you could have."

"But I didn't.  No one did.  Only Josh."  Sam took another swig of his beer.  "Why should any of us trust him enough to work with him again?"

"You have to admit that Douglas-Radford would make a good candidate."

"She wouldn't stand a chance.  It's the dumbest idea he's ever had."

"No, the dumbest idea he ever had was starting a fire in the Mural Room.  Though this one's right up there."

Sam grinned at her.  "If Josh were here, he'd say that it would have worked if you'd gone out to find wood for us like he told you to."

"And I'd tell him I don't bring coffee, and I don't fetch wood."

They passed the next few minutes in silence, thinking back to the White House.

"God, it would be tempting to win it back," Sam said.

Donna hid her smile behind the glass she was drinking from.

"But not if Josh is in charge," Sam added hastily.

"CJ says Toby's going to do it."

Sam made a noise that was not quite a laugh.  "Toby?  Of course.  Susan Douglas-Radford is on the radical left.  She doesn't stand a chance, and she'll say almost anything.  She'll piss off moderates as well as conservatives.  Toby will have a field day."

"CJ's wavering, I think."

"And what about you?" Sam asked.

"I," Donna said softly, "have not been asked."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope.  No offer for me.  Just you guys."  She shrugged.  "If CJ goes, I can hold down the fort here.  It's for the best."

"Is he crazy?"

"Sam, what would I do?  I'm hardly going back to being his assistant."

"Wait.  I know what this is.  Of course.  He thinks he doesn't even need to ask; you'll just come along automatically."

"He doesn't think that."

"How do you know?"

She looked at her wineglass, at the floor, anywhere but into Sam's eyes.  "When he said goodbye to me yesterday, it felt very final.  He doesn't want me, Sam."  She was surprised at how much it hurt to say that.  "Not personally or professionally."

"Bastard," Sam muttered.

"Well, I don't want him anymore either," she said brightly.  She thought that she sounded pretty convincing.  She would have fooled everyone except for Sam, CJ and Toby.  And probably Josh.  She made a point of opening up her menu.  "So where's the waiter anyway?  I'm starving."

***

Toni Timian crossed her arms below her considerable bosom and glared at Josh.  "This isn't the Bartlet for American campaign."

Josh clenched his jaw tighter.  "I know," he managed.  His trip to California had not gone well, he was still jetlagged, and he really didn't feel like having this conversation with Toni right now.  But Toni was hardcore, a fifty-something politico who'd made her name in politics before being a female political operative was done.  Which resulted in a stubborn streak and an ability to bitchslap an opponent around like nobody's business.

Unfortunately, she never learned when enough was enough.  "Then why are you trying to recreate--"

"I'm not!" he argued.  "You want to put her in the White House, don't you?"

"Yes," Toni said, still giving him a very dubious look.  "That doesn't mean you can drag out your notes from 1998 and replace any mention of 'Bartlet' with 'Douglas-Radford.'"

"That's not what I'm doing, Toni, and you know it."  Josh glared at her from behind his desk.  "You run her office.  She needs you here.  She needs Carrie in the pressroom here.  She needs Sharise and Joaquin writing for her and minding the state's business.  What I'm doing is building her a team for the campaign."

Toni scowled.  "It shouldn't be all new people!"

"Yes," Josh insisted.  "It should!"

"Why?  We got her this far."

"Because the people of Pennsylvania need to know they're still going to have a governor during the campaign; and if the staff stays here, Governor Douglas-Radford can step up and say, 'See?  Nothing here is changing.  My campaign is separate from my duties as governor.'"

Toni twirled a finger in her hair absently, in that disconcertingly girlish way she had sometimes.  "Why not hire new people for the office, Josh?  I've been directing her campaigns since her second run for Congress."

Josh shrugged.  "And now you're the chief of staff.  You can't do both, and you know I'm better at it than you are."

Toni rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand in the air.  "You're an asshole, Josh, is what you are."

"You're probably right, but I am better at this than you are.  I got Bartlet elected.  If Hoynes hadn't jumped, I bet I could've gotten him re-elected."

Toni glanced away for a moment, her lips tightening.

Josh sighed.  "Go ahead."

"What are you talking about?"

"Say it," he commanded.

"Josh--"

"You're thinking 'yeah, but he couldn't get Hoynes elected.'"  Josh talked right over her.  "You're right.  I couldn't.  I had three months, Toni.  Three fucking months, and you're right, I couldn't do it.  But I've got almost a year; and if I can pull together some surefire people, I can do this.  You know I can."

Toni just watched him, her lips still pressed together.

"Toni," Josh sighed, "I'm not after your damn job."

"I know that," Toni snapped.  "I'm not feeling threatened, if that's what you think.  I just need to make sure you're not inviting these people on as some kind of penance for jumping ship when--"

"I didn't jump ship," Josh interrupted, practically growling.

"Josh--"

"This isn't penance.  It's not me trying to buy their friendship back," Josh insisted, standing to face her.  "I swear, Toni, it's not."

She scanned his face, then nodded.  "It can't be the same as before."

Josh looked away, swallowing hard.  "I know that."

"No, Josh, I meant--"

"Josh?"  Pedro, Josh's assistant, knocked quickly and opened the door.

"Yeah?" Josh asked.

"There's someone here to see you."  Pedro looked unimpressed, as always.

Josh glanced at Toni, then raised his eyebrows. " Who is it?"

"Toby Ziegler."

***

CJ stared down at her copy of Mother Jones, but her concentration was elsewhere.  Of course, Evan's music didn't help -- he was locked in the study writing, and he always had music on to, in his words, find the Writing Place.  Even after three years with him, CJ had no idea what the hell he was talking about.  She understood the compulsion, though: the impulse to seek seclusion.  She was never a writer, but she'd worked closely enough with writers -- Toby and Sam, especially -- to grow accustomed to their bizarre rituals.

She'd bought Evan a small, ebony statue of a Greek muse for Christmas, which he'd loved.  It sat on the mantle even now, staring down at her.  How could she leave all of this?  How could she consider a long-distance marriage, even for a specific length of time?  She wasn't sure she had the strength.

Decisively, CJ tossed aside the magazine, uncurled herself from the dark grey armchair, and grabbed the phone.  She dialed the number, still familiar after all these years.

"Bartlet Residence."

"Zoey?" CJ asked, grinning.

"CJ?  How are you?"

"I'm good," CJ answered.  "I'm very good, actually.  How are classes?"

Zoey groaned good-naturedly.  "I thought undergrad was hard.  Grad school is all reading."

"I remember," CJ answered.  "I never needed glasses before my years in grad school.  I'm thinking that's not a coincidence."

"Great," Zoey returned, laughing.  "Hey, did you want to talk to my mom?"

"Yes.  Is she around?"

"She's asleep," Zoey said, her tone apologetic.  "Liz had a bad night, and--"

"That's no problem," CJ interrupted.  "Really.  I was just calling to--"

"Talk about the Josh thing?" Zoey asked.

Startled, CJ laughed.  "The Josh thing?"

"Yeah. Douglas-Radford.  Josh trying to make amends by getting you all back together again -- the Josh thing."  Before CJ could answer, Zoey covered the mouthpiece and spoke to someone on the other end.

Then a distinctly familiar jovial voice boomed on down the line, "CJ Cregg, as I live and breathe!"

"Mr. President."  CJ found herself grinning at the empty fireplace.  "You're sounding quite..."  She stumbled over the word "happy," because, really, the man's eldest daughter was fighting a recurrence of breast cancer.  How happy could he possibly be?

"I'm doing very well, CJ.  Liz is improving steadily.  She finished chemo last week, and she's starting to get her appetite back."

"That's wonderful, sir."

"Jed," he corrected her.

"Nice try," CJ answered, just as she had every time he'd tried to convince her to use his given name.  "But it's not gonna happen."

He gave an exaggerated sigh.  "I thought one benefit of moving out of that big white house would be that my friends would be able to call me by my name again."

"I never called you by your name, sir," CJ pointed out.  "You were 'Governor' on the campaign."

"Ah, yes," Bartlet answered.  "The campaign.  CJ, I think you should go for it if you want to.  Please don't hold back out of some misguided sense of loyalty to me."

It took her a minute to come up with a response.  "Sir, that's not--"

"I was never mad at Josh," he interrupted, his tone quiet.  "Never.  I understood his position.  Hell, I half-admired him for having the chutzpah to stand up to Leo.  But I was never angry, even when you all were angry on my behalf."

"He abandoned all of us, sir," CJ reminded him.

"Claudia Jean," Bartlet answered, "you know that's not true.  Maybe it was a mistake on his part, maybe he did the best thing he could do.  Either way, it's done.  It's over, and he's still punishing himself for his imagined transgressions.  If he's found it in himself to come to you, maybe you owe it to yourself -- maybe you owe it to him -- to at least consider his offer without letting the past overshadow the present."

CJ grinned.  "Did anyone ever tell you you're kind of a smart guy?"

"Maybe once or twice," he shot back, and she could tell from his voice that he was smiling.

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"You know what I would like in lieu of a thank you?" he asked mischievously.

"Oh, no," CJ groaned.  "Sir--"

"Do you not trust me, CJ?" he asked in mock outrage.  "The woman whose more-than-capable hands I placed my public image in for more than four years won't even--"

"Oh, for the love of God, sir!" she interrupted.  "What is it?"

Bartlet laughed.  "I have a feeling it's only going to be a matter of time before you're calling me 'Jed,' CJ.  You've already got the utter disrespect thing going."

"Sir--"

"Just promise me," he said finally, "that when you and Governor Douglas-Radford are spending time in New Hampshire in the next month that you'll stay with Abbey and me.  We'd love to have you."

CJ smiled softly.  "I promise.  Thank you, sir."

***

Toby sat in the small reception area, wondering for approximately the 498th time since he started the drive from New York to Pennsylvania why he'd come.  The last time he'd spoken to Josh Lyman was in a hotel hallway in Seattle, just before Josh walked away from the Bartlet Administration without a backward glance.  Toby, probably more than any of the rest of the senior staff, almost understood Josh's decision.  It was desperate, of course, and ultimately futile, but keeping Baker out of the White House was actually not a deplorable goal.  Plus, Toby knew that if anybody could've pulled off a win for John Hoynes, it would've been Josh.

Not that he would ever consider telling Josh that; the man's ego was already preposterous, as evidenced by his latest harebrained scheme.

"Toby?"

Toby stood, a little bit shocked at how haggard Josh looked.  The rumpled clothes and fiercely independent hair Toby was used to, but the dark circles under his eyes and the small lines around his mouth?  Those were new.  And they made Josh look older than his forty-three years.

"Josh?"  Toby grimaced at the note of surprise in his tone and hoped Josh didn't catch it.

But Josh was a damn good politician, trained to read inflection, and his mouth tightened a bit before he forced a smile and invited Toby in.  "So," Josh said, retreating behind his desk, "what brings you here?"

"You," Toby declared, dropping into a guest chair, "are an idiot."

This time, Josh's smile was genuine.  "Oh, how I've missed the positive, uplifting words of Toby Ziegler," he said.  "How's NYU?"

"College kids today are shockingly unable to write.  Or speak effectively.  And the utter lack of comprehension when it comes to basic rules of punctuation is appalling.  But," Toby said, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "that's not why I'm here."

"But I'd so enjoy a treatise on Generation Y.  I don't understand kids today."

Toby smirked.  "Well, calling them Generation Y would probably be your first mistake."

Josh grinned.  "They don't like that so much, eh?"

"Not even a little bit," Toby said.  He glanced around Josh's office for a moment, coveting all the space.  Sometimes when he was locked in his cramped office at NYU, he missed that large, airy office in the West Wing so much that he had to go take a walk around the campus or he'd call Ann Stark's direct line and hurl some invective.  "This is a complete waste of time."

Josh's grin faded.  "Hey, you came here--"

"Not this," Toby answered irritably, indicating the space between them.  "Running for president."

Josh's lips quirked upwards.  "Well, I'm not running, Toby."

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Toby asked, shifting a bit in his chair.

"Yeah," Josh answered slowly, "I've been told that."

Slightly uncomfortable with the undercurrents of the conversation, Toby went on the offensive.  "Douglas-Radford is entirely too liberal to win this.  She's a woman, which already loses you a significant chunk of rural voters.  She's got a degree in journalism, which the Republicans will use to portray her as a cynical, truth-twisting, yellow-bellied liberal.  Not to mention the fact that she was arrested in 1969 for protesting Vietnam."

Josh actually looked amused.  "These are all facts with which I'm familiar."

"Josh, she was arrested," Toby repeated.

"She was arrested.  She was not charged, indicted, tried or found guilty.  The police arrested something like three hundred people that day.  Besides which, she's answered that question on countless occasions over the years, each time with eloquence and credibility."

"If she wins, she'll be the Commander in Chief.  She was arrested for protesting a military action--"

"It was almost forty years ago, Toby, besides which, the majority of voters in their twenties agree that Vietnam was a mistake.  They're not going to hold that against her."

"Fine," Toby shrugged, "but the Baby Boomers aren't going to vote for her!"

"The aging hippies will," Josh grinned.

Toby rolled his eyes.  "So you'll win Vermont and its three electoral votes."

Josh nodded.  "Yeah, and possibly California."

Toby leaned forward in his chair, weighing his next words.  "If you're not going to carry the Boomers, you're going to have to find new voters if you want to make it past the primaries."

"Yeah."

"Young voters," Toby continued.  "She's great on the environment, great on fiscal responsibility, great on equal rights issues, and she's a damn good speaker."

The edge of Josh's mouth twitched upwards.  "You've seen her speak?"

Toby blinked.  "She did a thing at CUNY.  Plus I followed her gubernatorial campaign."

"Ah."

"Yes," Toby answered.  "If you could get the kids to see her, if you could get her on MTV and at colleges and on Jay Leno, you could get the support of the 18-25 set.  But then you still have the issue of, will they vote in the primary?"

Josh nodded slowly, a small smile on his face.  "I know.  She'll carry the left wing of the Democratic Party, the wing that's been so disillusioned with centrist, moderate politics.  But she won't get the moderates."

"Right, but the 18-25 year olds aren't moderates," Toby pointed out.  "You can't be moderate and be twenty-one; it's physically impossible.  The amount of passion in these kids can be tapped.  They don't vote, but it's not because they don't care.  They care too much, and they feel the government doesn't listen to them, doesn't respond to their needs."

Josh raised his eyebrows.  "You sound like you've thought a lot about this."

"No," Toby grimaced, "but I teach Political Science.  I've been subjected to poorly-worded, run-on sentences in the midst of repetitive, disorganized paragraphs for three years, and they all say the same thing:  Why should I care about the government, if the government doesn't care about me?"

Toby absently noted that Josh looked much less weary with the dimples out in full force.

"Okay, so how do we get Douglas-Radford to convince the kids she cares about them?" Josh asked, grinning.

Toby hesitated, holding Josh's gaze.  "You want to win this thing, Josh?"

"Of course."

"I'm asking, is she worthy of the office?" Toby queried, his voice low.

"Yes, Toby," Josh answered confidently.  "She is.  She's the Real Thing."

"Okay," Toby nodded.  "Okay."  He sat back in his chair, folded his hands on his lap, and said, "The first thing we need to do is stage her announcement on a college campus.  She's a Penn State alumnus, right?"

Grinning widely, Josh answered, "Yes."

"Excellent."  Toby flashed a small smile.  "Let's do this."

***

Leo McGarry paused in the doorway of the small office.  Of all the rooms in the Bartlets' rambling Manchester house, he would never understand why Bartlet chose this small, oddly-shaped room for his home office.

Jed Bartlet sat not at the old wooden desk but wedged into an uncomfortable looking armchair near the window, reading a musty old book.  Since leaving office, he'd done his best to catch up on all the reading he'd missed during his presidency.  He was making damn good headway, too, considering all the time he and Abbey had spent in hospital waiting rooms during Lizzie's treatment.

Leo considered coming back later, but Bartlet chose that moment to glance up.  "Leo," he grinned.  "You're here."

"Well, you rang, sir," Leo answered with a smirk.

"Jed," he corrected.  "For the love of God, I'm not the president anymore."

"True," Leo nodded.  "You're a grumpy old man."

Bartlet raised his eyebrows.  "You're three years my senior there, skippy."

"Jed," Leo said, emphasizing his use of his old friend's given name, "is there a reason for your summons?"

"Summons," Bartlet repeated, tossing his book on the small table and releasing a small puff of dust.  Bartlet sneezed, rolled his eyes, and pulled himself out of the chair.  "It was an invitation to dinner, Leo.  Dinner which will be cooked by me, because I know how much you enjoy my cooking skills."

"Right," Leo answered.  "As long as you don't set anything on fire this time."

"It wasn't on fire," Bartlet argued.  "It was, you know, slightly charred."

"From the flames," Leo retorted, grinning.

Bartlet grunted and led his old friend down the hall, floorboards creaking in their wake.  They emerged into the kitchen to find Annie searching the refrigerator for something to drink.  "Hey, Grampa," she greeted without turning around.

"Hey, pumpkin," Leo said.

"Uncle Leo," Annie grinned, abandoning her search to give Leo a hug.  "He coerced you into coming over for dinner?"

"Yeah," Leo answered.  "What are we having?  Wolfgang over here hasn't bothered to tell me."

Annie laughed.  "It's a cookout."

Leo turned an incredulous gaze to Bartlet, who had that insufferably smug grin in place.  "You're kidding."

"Nope," Bartlet answered airily, pulling hamburger meat out of the refrigerator.

"It's January," Leo argued, knowing already it was futile, but feeling the need to lodge a protest anyway.  "It's winter."

"Oh, pish," Bartlet waved a dismissive hand in the air.  "It's almost forty out today, and we'll be standing right by an open flame.  It's not the Arctic circle, Leo."

"Close enough," Leo muttered.

"Oh, come on, Leo.  It'll be fun."

Leo looked incredibly unamused.  "How is tending a grill a two-person job, anyway?"

"You're getting very contrary in your old age."

"Oh, I give up."  Leo threw his hands in the air.  "Let's go."

"Great," Bartlet grinned.  "Do you know how to light a grill?"

***

"Not MTV."

"Toby--"

"Not MTV," Toby repeated, his tone frustrated.  "I've been telling you this for a week.  She'll do MTV later; but right now, she can't afford it."

Josh tossed his hands up in the air, pacing the small conference room like a caged cheetah.  "Toby, we need the 18-25s.  We need them to vote in the primaries; what good is her going on MTV in the summer going to do us?"

Toby's mouth tightened.  "Putting her on MTV right now just to be on MTV will hurt her.  She's already the wacko-left winger; do you also want her to be pandering to the radical college-aged set?"

With an annoyed sigh, Josh pointed out, "I seriously doubt college radicals are spending quality time watching Carson Daly."

"Carson Daly was fired in 2003."

Josh smirked.  "You watch MTV?"

"I keep informed about sources of potential voters, yes," Toby answered primly.  "Not to mention the fact that I have been teaching undergrads for three years.  And you know I'm right.  Haskell will use it to portray himself as a moderate Democrat."

"Who needs another moderate Democrat?" Josh exploded.  "I am sick to death of moderate Democrats!  They're just Republicans with less righteous indignation!"

"Yes," Toby said, "but to get back to my point, MTV is doing Rock the Vote; we'll get her on that.  We'll get her in a Q&A session with 18-25s.  But what we won't do is put her on that vapid countdown show just to put her on MTV!  It'll look desperate."

Josh halted in front of the window, staring blankly down at Washington Square.  The New Hampshire primary was only three weeks away, and they desperately needed some exposure for Governor Douglas-Radford.  But Toby had a damn good point; never let 'em see your desperation.  "I guess," he answered finally, still not turning around.

"We'll get her on the late shows," Toby said, and Josh could hear his pen scratching across the ever-present legal pad as he took notes.  "They've got younger demos than the morning shows.  And then we'll court Rock the Vote."

"Sounds like a good plan, boys.  I approve."

Josh whirled around to see CJ Cregg leaning casually against the doorframe, smiling.  Toby lurched out of his seat and took two quick steps toward her, then stopped awkwardly.  "CJ."

CJ grinned at him.  "Come here, you big lug," she said, then pulled Toby into a hug.  When she released him, Toby ran a hand over his head and retreated to his seat.  CJ turned her attention to Josh.  "You too," she directed, making a "come here" gesture with her hand.

Josh was surprised at the sudden rush of relief.  CJ obviously forgave him for his choice or she wouldn't be here, offering her friendship along with her services.  Josh grabbed her tightly, feeling her hands gently pat his back.  "I missed you, CJ," he whispered to her.  Aloud, he said, "I knew you couldn't resist the challenge."

CJ laughed and pulled away from him, holding him at an arm's length.  "You're an idiot, Joshua, but you do have a knack for finding the best candidates."  She glanced over her shoulder.  "Evan, get in here."

Josh raised his eyebrows.  "Evan's here?"

CJ let go of Josh and tugged her husband into the office.  "You get me, you get this one tagging along, hovering in corners and typing away on his laptop."

With a pointed look at Toby, Josh said, "Well, then he should fit right in."  Josh shook Evan's hand.  "Good to see you again, and welcome aboard.  Are you going to write a novel about a political campaign?"

Evan rolled his eyes.  "Yes, I plan to chronicle the adventures of the dashing Jesse Loman."

Toby actually laughed out loud as he rose once more from his seat.  "Evan," he acknowledged, offering his hand.  The two men exchanged friendly expressions over manly handshakes.

"I suppose," Evan said, with a mischievous grin, "you would object to being relegated to Tony Ziegfried, the trusty sidekick."

CJ snickered, Josh smirked, and Toby gave an impressive glower.  "That would be an accurate assessment," he said.

Evan nodded sagely.  "I'll take that under advisement.  How're the undergrads treating you?"

Toby groaned.  "I couldn't begin to describe it.  Didn't you recently teach a writing course?"

"Yes," Evan nodded.  "At Berkeley.  Are your students unable to properly place a comma, or is that a West Coast thing?"

Toby nodded vigorously.  "My students are woefully uneducated too," he began.

Amused, Josh watched the two men commiserate until CJ caught his eyes and motioned him closer.  He took two steps and gave her a questioning look.  "Yes?"

"Let's leave them to their horror stories of punctuation misapplication," she said.  "'Cause I'd really like a word with you."

Josh's eyes widened as her undertone of anger registered.  "Sure," he answered finally.  "We can talk in my office."

***

Jed Bartlet kept his eyes on the flames, tending the hamburgers, while Leo stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together and gave off very strong "I want to be inside" vibes.  Bartlet suppressed a grin.  "You want to hand me the rolls?"

Leo shot him a look but handed over the buns without comment.

"Thanks."

The two men went back to doing manly things -- pretending not to be cold outdoors in the winter without coats, and tending meat cooking over an open flame.  Neither was very good at either activity.  In fact, Bartlet was seriously regretting his sudden longing for red meat and the opportunity to indulge provided by Abbey's absence this afternoon.

"You know," Leo said after a moment.  "I got the impression over the phone that you wanted to speak to me about something."

Bartlet shot Leo a look, then busied himself flipping a burger.  "Yes. I did."

Leo gave a long-suffering sigh.  "Were you planning to broach the subject any time soon, or should I call Margaret and have her go to my place, pack some bags, and--"

"I talked to CJ."

Leo shrugged.  "So did I."

Bartlet gave his old friend a sidelong look.  "She joined the campaign, you know."

"Yes," Leo nodded.  "So did Toby."

"You're okay with that?"

Leo rolled his eyes.  "Is that what this is about?  I'm not in charge of CJ or Toby or even Josh.  They've got their own lives to run, Jed."

"I know.  I was just -- The reason I'm asking is that the New Hampshire primary's coming up in a few weeks."

The corner of Leo's mouth quirked.  "Having worked in politics my entire adult life, I am actually aware of that."

"Smartass," Bartlet commented, easing the toasted buns off of the grill and onto the waiting plate.  "My point is that when I talked to CJ, I told her I wanted her and Evan to stay here while they're in New Hampshire."

"Okay," Leo answered.

Bartlet glanced at his friend.  "I'm thinking of extending the invitation to some other campaign workers."

Leo sighed and faced Bartlet.  "Look, Jed, I have no problems with you inviting Josh here.  Have a party for the kid, for all I care."

Bartlet studied Leo's face, the tight line of his mouth, the slight furrow in his brow.  "You do care, Leo, which is why I wanted to discuss it with you first."

"It's fine," Leo answered, his tone dismissive.

Bartlet turned back to the fire and grinned.  "Then I can count on your attendance at the little soiree I'm planning?"

"Jed--"

"Lizzie is regaining her strength, and she was always fond of Josh," Bartlet pointed out.  "We're having a party for Liz.  It happens to coincide with the timeframe of Douglas-Radford's trip to New Hampshire."

Leo glowered at him.  "Funny how that worked out."

"Isn't it?"  Bartlet scooped the last of the burgers off of the grill and onto the serving plate.

"You're not going to let this go until I agree, are you?" Leo asked.

"Not likely."

"Fine," Leo said.  "Give me the damn rolls and let's get the hell inside."

***

CJ glanced around as she followed Josh down the hall.  The headquarters for the Douglas-Radford campaign were nice -- unassuming but still somehow elegant.  She supposed it had something to do with the age of the building, its sense of history.  Growing up in California, she'd been absolutely awed the first time she saw the living history on the East Coast.

Josh's small office was functional and somewhat disorganized -- which didn't surprise her at all -- and looked out over Washington Square.  Beautiful view, but knowing Josh, he didn't even notice it.  Idiot.

"So what's on your mind?" Josh asked nervously.  He settled behind his desk, and it didn't escape CJ's attention that he was using it as a makeshift barrier.

"What did you do to Donna?" she demanded, ignoring the seat he offered.

Josh's eyes got very wide.  "What?" he squeaked.

If CJ weren't so irritated with him, she might have found his impression of a mezzo-soprano amusing.  As things stood, she merely rolled her eyes.  "You heard me."

"What did I do to her?" he repeated.  "I assume you mean recently?"

CJ glared at him some more.  "I'm well aware of what you did to her three years ago, Josh.  In fact, I believe I owe your kneecaps quite a thrashing."

"CJ--"

"Josh, you broke her heart!"

He winced, unable to meet her gaze.  And then CJ took a good look at the pain in his eyes and dropped into the guest chair.  "You're in love with her."

Jerking his head up, Josh stared at her.  "What?"

"Well," CJ shrugged, "I knew you were then.  I didn't realize you still loved her, though.  So why isn't Donna here?"

"I don't understand what you--"

"Why didn't you offer her a position?" CJ pressed.  "She's incredibly smart, and this campaign would do well to have her on board."

"I know that.  In fact, I wanted to talk to you about this very subject.  Do you think--"

"Hold on."  CJ held up an imperious hand.  "First thing's first.  What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything to her!"  Josh shifted nervously in his seat.

CJ watched him for a long moment, noting the fidgeting and the inability to meet her eyes.  "There was no touching, no kissing of any kind?"

Josh set his mouth in a determined line but didn't speak.

"There was?" CJ yelled.  "Josh, how could you--"

"I stopped it, CJ," he interrupted hotly.  "We were kissing, and I stopped it, okay?  So just leave it alone.  I'm not going to hurt her again."

Well, that settles it, CJ thought, Josh is clearly too stupid to be let out into polite society unchaperoned.  "Did you explain why you stopped kissing her?  And when was this, by the way?" CJ demanded.

He tapped his fingers on the desktop.  "In San Francisco."

"Which explains her mood as of late," CJ muttered.  "Did you explain yourself?"

"No."  Josh seemed to find his desktop quite absorbing.

CJ rubbed her temple to ward off the headache looming on the horizon.  "May I ask why not?" she queried with biting sarcasm.

"No."

CJ's eyes widened.  "Excuse me?"

"CJ, I'm sorry, but I really can't talk about this.  Donnatella Moss deserves to be happy, and I'm not going to get in the way of that ever again."

CJ pondered whether or not the jail time would be worth it if she tossed Josh out that window.  Was Pennsylvania a capital punishment state?  "Joshua, did it ever occur to you that perhaps she's unhappy because she's not with you?"

He actually looked stunned.  In fact, CJ was concerned that he didn't seem to be breathing.  "Josh?"

"You're wrong," he managed after a long moment.  "She can't possibly still--"

"She does," CJ interrupted.  "She won't discuss it directly, but trust me when I tell you she still has very strong feelings for you.  I can't imagine why."

"CJ--"

"I'm serious.  You walked out on her."  CJ felt like an incredible bully when he flinched, but she kept talking.  "I'm not mad at you, Josh.  I understand why you felt you should leave.  The President's not mad.  Toby's here, so obviously he's not mad either.  We were hurt at the time, of course, but you had no obligations to us personally."  CJ gave him a wry grin.  "Well, okay, I would've liked to have kept in touch with my favorite Harvard fascist, but the situation was awkward to say the least.  All of this is by way of saying, I can accept you losing touch with all of us except Donna."

"CJ, please," Josh said quietly.  He ducked his head, still nervously tracing figures on the desktop.  "I know this already.  Why do you think I stopped all the kissing?"

"Then?" CJ asked.  "Or now?"  When he looked up at her, CJ's breath caught in her throat.  There were actually tears in his eyes.

He blinked rapidly, and they were gone.  "I stopped it then because I had to go, and she had to stay.  I stopped it now because I don't deserve her."

CJ held his gaze for a moment.  "You're probably right about that," she acquiesced.  "But for some unfathomable reason, she seems to want you anyway."

Josh shook his head.  "You're wrong.  Listen, CJ, I really do need to talk to you about Donna joining the campaign."

CJ figured she'd pushed enough for one day.  She'd Tae Kwan Do his ass another time, especially if Donna did join them.  "Okay," CJ said.  "What did you have in mind?"

***

"Explain to me again why it is I have to be here." Sam was being petulant, Donna decided.  He'd been perfecting his scowl since they'd received invitations, and she had long since regretted talking him into accompanying her.

"Voter reform.  A cause you have been championing for the entire seven years I've known you."

"A thinly veiled excuse for Susan Douglas-Radford to act like a presidential candidate before she officially enters the race."

"CJ's worked hard on putting this fundraiser together quickly, Sam.  And the money goes to The Center for Voting and Democracy, not into Douglas-Radford's campaign.  Try to play nice."

Sam took a sip of champagne and glared at Donna.  "I'm always nice.  I'm good old Sam, the nice guy you call when you're afraid to face the man who--"

"Don't go there, Sam.  Just for once, let's try to have a conversation that does not revolve around Josh."

"When he's in the room somewhere?  Yeah, that'll work."

"It's a big crowd; we won't necessarily run into him.  We'll find CJ and Toby; we'll say hello; we'll make a quick exit."

"Not quick enough."

"You know, Sam," Donna sighed, "I am really sick of your attitude.  If I can let this go--"

Sam snorted.  "Yeah, you've let it go.  I'm particularly impressed by the healthy post-Josh relationships you've entered into.  You should write one of those self-help books -- How to Get Over a One-Night Stand with Your Boss in Ten Easy Steps.  Go on Oprah, make a fortune.  You've certainly been the vision of mental health since the last time he was out here.  What happened?  He screw you once more for old times' sake and leave again?"

Donna glared at him, her expression somewhere between shock and outrage.  "Sam, go away.  Now."

The minute the words left his mouth, Sam was stunned by the invective he'd hurled at Donna.  "God, I'm sorry.  You know I didn't mean--"

"Go away."

Sam took one look at her face, muttered more words of apology and left.  Donna found a conveniently empty table and sat down to compose herself.

The support system she'd carefully constructed for herself over the past three years seemed to be crumbling.  CJ and Evan were gone for the duration of the campaign, and Sam's increasing bitterness was driving a wedge between them.  She had other friends -- friends from work and grad school, friends who didn't know about Josh.  Maybe she should--

"Donna."

She brushed away the tears she'd been fighting back because, of all the people she knew, this was the one who'd be most uncomfortable with an emotional scene.  Still, a little of the old effervescent Donna resurfaced long enough for her to jump up and throw her arms around him.

"Toby!"

Being Toby, he untangled himself from her with record speed.  "I saw Ginger around here somewhere if you want to--" he began.

"I see Ginger a couple of times a month," she replied.  "You, on the other hand, I haven't seen since CJ's wedding."  She sat back down.  "And you can tell me about the campaign."

Toby took a seat across from Donna and began telling her about the difficulties of running a campaign for a dark horse, as-yet-undeclared, female candidate.  And, since he was Toby, he managed to weave it all into a spellbinding narrative that made Donna long to join them.  She was so mesmerized by Toby's story that she barely noticed when Sam walked up behind them.  When he put a hand on her shoulder, she jerked away, thinking for a moment that he was someone else.  She turned around to look at him; and if Sam noticed how her face fell when she saw that it wasn't Josh, he didn't say anything about it.

"I was an asshole back there, Donna, and I'm really sorry," he said.

"You were an asshole?" Toby asked.  "Hard to believe."

"Yeah," Sam said.  He smiled because Toby's sarcasm always had that effect on him.  "I know that usually is your job, Toby, but you weren't around."

"I have no idea what you mean there.  As usual.  I am universally recognized for my upbeat persona."

Donna smiled her forgiveness at Sam ("Just don't ever let it happen again," she told him.) as he took the seat on her left.  CJ joined them five minutes later, taking the chair next to Toby.  They very quickly fell back into old patterns, the conversation careening between memories of the White House and news about the Douglas-Radford campaign, their language peppered with an amount of Bartletspeak that would have made Evan cringe.

***

Watching them from the shadows, Josh pondered how he could simultaneously feel so elated at the sight of them together and so melancholy at how complete the picture seemed without him.  He'd been pragmatic three years before -- duty before friendship and all that -- but the emotional toll his decision had taken on him was undeniable.  He'd done a pretty damn good job of ignoring it when he was isolated from his old colleagues.  Now, though, watching Donna, Toby, CJ and Sam laugh and enjoy each other was like his own personal version of purgatory.

No matter that he was already attempting to make up for his transgressions.

From the way she was smiling at Toby, Josh could tell that Donna missed the grumpy bastard.  Toby, plus CJ and Evan -- that might be enough to convince her to come back to him.  To join the campaign, he meant.  Of course, Donna and Sam were pretty tight these days, so Sam's absence -- not to mention Josh's presence -- could sway her the wrong way.  Josh sighed and tried to stop second guessing himself.

And then Sam glanced his way, locked eyes with him, and scowled.

"Well," Josh muttered, "I guess that's my cue."  He held Sam's gaze the entire long trek to the table, unable to concede the admittedly stupid battle of wills.

Before he reached the table, CJ, Toby and Donna had all noticed Sam's sudden glower, followed his gaze, and greeted Josh's arrival with varying degrees of smiles.

"Josh," CJ said.  "Have a seat."

Josh didn't even glance her way, still watching Sam for his reaction.  "Thanks, CJ.  You mind if I join you?" he asked Sam.

After a tense moment, Sam shrugged.  "Whatever."

Josh exhaled slowly and slid into an empty seat, nodding to Toby and CJ before turning to Donna.  "Hey."

Donna flashed him a small smile that was just the tiniest bit wobbly.  "Josh," she said.

Toby cleared his throat.  "Josh, explain to CJ that courting the 18-25s doesn't mean we're ignoring the aging hippie bloc."

CJ rolled her eyes.  "Oh, please, Toby.  That's not what I'm saying.  My point is, if we're pushing voter turnout across the board, we can't look like we're out to divide and conquer."

"The fact that some older voters dislike MTV doesn't mean we should skip Rock the Vote," Toby argued.  "How else do you propose we get the attention of the college-aged voters?"

"Actually," Sam interjected, a contemplative look on his face, "you might do better on college campuses than on MTV.  Doesn't MTV skew younger now?  It'd be nice to have the support of the fourteen-year-old set, but considering they can't vote..."  He trailed off, embarrassed at the looks Toby, CJ and Donna were giving him.  Josh kept his expression intentionally neutral.

"Good point," Donna told Sam gently.

"We're doing Rock the Vote," Toby said stubbornly.  "But we should plan more campus stops."

Sam hid a smile by taking a swig of his beer.

"So, Josh." Donna turned to him.  "How's the campaign going?"

"Good," he answered.  "Money-wise, we're doing about as well as can be expected.  And the press coverage has been pretty intense."

"There's also the novelty factor," CJ added with a grimace.  "The Woman Candidate."

Donna rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise.  "Typical."

"No, that's good," Josh told her, excitement creeping into his voice.  "Well, it's annoying on a personal level, but politically speaking, it's free exposure and a ready-made platform."

"A ready-made platform of women's issues," Toby noted.  "Which is troublesome, especially if we want to sway liberal Republican women.  And, you know, men."

"Yeah," Josh shrugged.  "But right now my concern is exposure.  People need to know who she is; we'll fix the pre-conceptions later."

CJ rolled her eyes.  "Can I state again that I think that's a bad idea?  We don't want her positioned as the Raging Feminista."

"I know," Josh answered.  "My point is that she doesn't have to fight with Haskell and Mooney and Shenkman for a unique stance in the field of Democratic candidates.  Right now, she's different by virtue of the fact that she's the girl."

Donna shot him a look. "The girl?"

"You know what I mean."

Donna leaned forward a bit.  "So you're saying you're letting this media-created image of The Woman Candidate stand?" she demanded.  "You don't think that's going to be problematic once the primaries start?"

"It will be," CJ answered before Josh had the chance.  "We're going to have to get her stance on all the issues out there, not just issues affecting women.  That's how we get the liberal Republican women and the independent women on board."

Nodding, Donna asked, "So how are you going to do that?  Reposition her, I mean."

CJ glanced over at Josh, who nodded.

"Donna," Josh said, "I actually wanted to talk to you about this."

"I knew it," muttered Sam.

Josh ignored him and concentrated on Donna.  "We need a press secretary for the campaign, someone who's got experience handling arrogant and abrasive people," he said with a self-deprecating grin, "because the reporters who cover her at first are going to be young and hungry.  I've talked to CJ and watched some tapes of your Feminist Majority press conferences, and I really think--"

"Josh, what the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded, his voice just a little too loud for polite conversation.

"Sam," Donna admonished, but she kept her attention locked on Josh.  "You're not serious."

Josh suppressed an ill-timed smirk.  "I really am."

"This is too much." Sam rose, his tone following suit.  "You are a megalomaniacal asshole, Josh."

"Sam."  Donna's tone was sharp, but it did no good.

"No, Donna, I'm sorry, but this is really too much."  Sam ranted, drawing stares from nearby partygoers.  Josh knew he should try to stop this, he knew that this was bad for the party and bad for Douglas-Radford, but the part of him that couldn't forgive himself for walking out on them paralyzed him.  He just watched, mesmerized, as Sam kept going, his blue eyes flashing with anger.  "You fucked her over, Josh.  You fucked us all over, but what you did to her was inexcusable, and I--"

"Sam," Donna grabbed his arm, trying to avert the imminent explosion.  "This is not the place, and this is not your fight."

Josh, CJ and Toby watched the exchange in silence, none of them daring to breathe.

Sam stared down at her for a long moment, breathing hard.  "I'm leaving," he said finally.  "You coming?"

"I'll find my own way home," Donna answered coolly.  "Thanks."

"Fine."  Sam turned his glare in Josh's direction.  "And fuck you."

Toby blew out a breath and watched Sam stalk off.  "Well, that was predictable."

Josh stayed silent and tried to stop his hands from shaking.  "I should go," he decided, figuring he'd done enough damage for one night.

"Josh," Donna protested.  "You can't just leave.  You just--"  She broke off and turned to CJ.  "Did he really offer me--"

"A job as press secretary?" CJ grinned.  "Yes."

"Okay," Donna answered automatically, looking back over at Josh, who was tensed to flee.  "That's definitely not something I'm going to decide tonight."

Josh relaxed a bit; at least she wasn't dismissing the idea outright.  "Take all the time you need," he said.  "But I need an answer by Sunday."

***

Well, Toby thought, glancing around the small, dark bar as he entered, this would explain some things.

He located Sam in a corner booth, tuxedo rumpled and bow tie undone, his head leaning back against the wall.  There was a glass of beer in front of him, nearly finished.  Toby stopped at the bar, ordered a refill for Sam and a scotch for himself, then headed over to the table where his former deputy sat.

Sam looked bitter, Toby noted, watching him for a moment.  Yelling at Josh had brought all of Sam's latent anger to the surface, and now he didn't know what to do with it.  Toby cursed himself for following Sam -- he was really not the best person for this -- then placed the beer glass loudly on the table.

"Sam," he said.

Sam opened his eyes tiredly.  "Why am I not surprised he sent an emissary?"

"Nobody sent me," Toby shot back.  "I'm not Josh Lyman's errand boy."  He slid into the booth across from Sam and glanced around.  The bar was dark, relatively quiet and well-appointed.  "Nice place."

The dim light flashed off Sam's teeth as he smiled.  "It's a gay bar, Toby."

"I noticed that," Toby answered evenly.  "The pink triangle on the door was a dead giveaway."

Sam watched him carefully.  "It doesn't bother you to be here?"

"Do I look like a bigot to you?" Toby countered.

Sam shrugged.  "No, but there's a difference between supporting gay rights and sitting in an actual gay bar."

"This isn't the first gay bar I've been to in my life, Sam."

"Do tell."  Sam took a swig of his beer.

"My brother's gay," Toby said by way of explanation.

"Really?" Sam's eyebrows rose.  "The astronaut?"

Toby snorted.  "Scientists can't be gay?"

"No, no," Sam answered.  "I just... didn't realize that."

Toby nodded sagely.  "Right.  Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"Not particularly.  Is there something you'd like to ask?"

"No."  Toby blinked slowly.

"Okay, then," Sam said.  "All I'm going to say right now is that this is San Francisco, there's nothing but gay bars, and my townhouse is three doors down, though I'm sure Donna mentioned that -- It was Donna who told you where to find me, right?"

"Yes," Toby answered.  "I think you need to take a good, hard look at what your attitude is doing to Donna."

"What?" Sam sputtered, his eyes widening.  His beer hovered, forgotten, halfway to his mouth.

"You're the one who's still angry, Sam.  Maybe you should ask yourself why," he said quietly.  "Maybe you should think about why Josh did what he did, and make some allowances for the fact that he's human."

Sam slammed his glass down and gaped at him.  "Toby--"

Toby shifted, uncomfortable in his assumed role as de facto psychologist.  "Donna can make her own decisions.  CJ and I did.  I'm sure you realize that there's a job for you on the campaign if you want it."

"I don't," Sam answered hotly.  "I won't work with Josh."

Toby nodded and finished up his drink.  "Fine.  That's your decision."  He let his words hang in the air for a moment.  "Let Donna make hers."

***

He wanted her.

No, Donna corrected herself, Josh did not want her.  He wanted to hire her as press secretary for the campaign.  Nothing personal.

Hell, she told herself as she paid the cab driver and opened the door to her townhouse, this was all probably CJ's idea.  They needed a press secretary, and CJ had suggested Donna because she was someone they all trusted.  CJ had undoubtedly worked extra hard at convincing Josh that this was a good idea.

And with good reason.

Leaving aside the question of whether she was ready to serve as press secretary for a presidential campaign, there was the complication her history with Josh caused.  Suppose they could ignore their past sexual relationship.  After all, that had only been one night.  They were adults; surely they could overlook that.  Still, they'd spent four years as boss and assistant.  The way they related to each other, their whole dynamic, was based on her having been his assistant.  As a press secretary, she'd need to be on an even footing with Josh.  Could he accept that?  Could she get over this compulsion she had to take care of him?

She needed to make a list.  Set down all the pros and cons of taking this job.  Reach a rational conclusion, not one based on her pathetic inability to get over Josh.

She was in the middle of her list -- and getting very depressed over how much longer the "con" side was -- when the doorbell rang.

She mentally added another pro -- Josh arriving on her doorstep in the middle of the night.  Her face fell when she opened the door to an extremely drunken Sam.

He might have been drunk, but he was still observant.  "Expecting someone else?"

"Sam," she said, "it's late and I'm much too tired for more of this."  But she motioned for him to come in anyway.

"I'm sorry," Sam began.  "Really.  But I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about."

"There is.  There always has been and there always will be where he's concerned."

"Sam--"

"He doesn't even know he's doing it; that's what I'd forgotten; that's what makes it so bad.  He doesn't even realize how he's destroying us all."

"You know, you just give him way too much power."

"Yeah, but he gets off on that, the power.  That's what he lives for.  It seems okay at first because it's all tied up with stuff like gun control and voter reform, and you think it's funny.  You think it's just Josh being Josh with the sunglasses and the attitude, and you wish you could be like that too.  And you forget that he's using you and he's taking advantage of this way he has of making people care about him.  And by the time you remember what a bastard he can be, he's gone again and you're the one who has to pick up all the pieces and take care of the people he hurt."  Sam sat down suddenly, as though saying all that had taken too much effort, and rested his head in his hands.  Donna took a seat next to Sam and put an arm around him.

"What you're forgetting," she said, "is how much fun it is while it lasts.  And how much it hurts him when things go wrong.  Yes, he likes power.  Yes, he can be thoughtless.  But he tries.  I've never known anyone, not even President Bartlet, who tries to do the right thing more than Josh does.  Or who blames himself more when things go wrong."

"You're prejudiced."

"Maybe a little."

"You're going too, aren't you?" Sam asked.  "He's taken CJ and Evan away, he's got Toby, and now you're leaving too."

"I haven't decided."

"You have.  You're trying to justify it, you're trying to come up with a reason other than 'I love Josh.'  But you'll go anywhere he tells you, and we both know it."

"It's an incredible opportunity.  Professionally."

"You're not ready for it.  I'm sorry, Donna, but you can't handle this.  In a couple of years, sure.  But you don't have the experience yet."

"Well, thank you for that vote of confidence, Sam."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"Josh thinks I can handle it."

"Josh figures he and CJ can bail you out.  Just like he figured Margaret and Mrs. Landingham could bail you out seven years ago."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Donna.  Figure it out.  You walk in off the street and end up as the personal assistant to one of the senior staff?  Why the hell do you think he hired you?"

"Because I asked for the job."

Sam laughed.  "Right.  You think nobody'd thought to ask for that assignment before?  And he always said he didn't need an assistant.  But then a pretty blonde walks in the door and--"

"That is not why I got the job."

"Sure, it isn't," Sam replied with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"Sam, you're crossing a line.  If you value our friendship, you won't say another word."

"We all thought it.  Toby, CJ -- Leo gave him hell about it."

"Josh was with Mandy then, remember?"

"Yeah, that was a stable relationship; that would have made a difference."

"We weren't lovers.  We spent four years not being lovers."

"So he miscalculated." Sam shrugged.  "Turned out you weren't as easy as he thought you'd be.  But this time around he's figured out how to get you into his bed.  He just does that whole desperate, 'my world is falling apart' thing.  Worked in Seattle."

"It was nice knowing you, Sam.  You can find your own way to the door."

Sam looked stricken.  "Donna, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to imply--"

"You went beyond implying.  Goodbye."

"I didn't mean--"

"You know, Sam, maybe you should start asking yourself why you're the one who's having such a hard time with this.  CJ and Toby have moved on.  And maybe I'm not over Josh, but I've made it past the stage of blaming him for everything that's wrong in my life.  You're the only one who's giving Josh this kind of power.  Maybe you need to think about why that is."

"I don't--"

"Yes, you do.  I'm tired of it.  Josh is just a man.  He did what he thought was right.  We didn't agree with it.  Yes, he broke my heart.  And, yes, I still love him.  I probably always will in some ways.  But you're the only person who thinks Josh has some sort of mystical power over the rest of us.  And maybe that says more about you than it does about Josh."

They stared at each other for a moment until Sam realized that nothing he could say would change Donna's mind.  "I'll miss you," he finally told her.

"I haven't decided to go."

"You decided the minute you saw him again."  Sam kissed her cheek.  "Just take care of yourself.  Hell, take care of him."

***

Years of late night calls had conditioned him to answer the phone before he had completely awakened.  This call was confusing, however, since the voice on the phone was remarkably similar to the voice that had just been crying out his name in a particularly vivid (and erotic) dream.

"Donnatella," he murmured automatically before he came fully awake and remembered that he didn't call her that now.

"Why did you hire me?" she asked.

"What?"

"In New Hampshire."  She sounded irritated.  Also impatient.  He propped himself up against the pillows and grinned.  He'd missed the way she expected him to come into a conversation knowing exactly whatever strange little thought she was currently obsessed with.

"Why did I hire you in New Hampshire?"

"Yes."

"As my assistant?"

"Yes."  She was increasingly irritated.  He smiled because he'd forgotten just how much fun teasing Donnatella Moss could be.

"This is important at--"  He looked at the clock on the nightstand.  "--3 a.m. seven years later because...?"

"It has been suggested that the only reason you hired me was that you wanted to sleep with me."

"Damn special prosecutor," Josh muttered.

"Not that.  Sam suggested it.  Tonight."

"Sam?  Why would Sam--"

"He said Leo yelled at you about it."

"I wouldn't call it yelling exactly.  More like an animated discussion."

"So your hiring me had nothing to do with--"

"Sadly, it never even occurred to me."  He winced as soon as the "sadly" was out of his mouth.  Way to give away your feelings there, Lyman, he thought.

"Then why did you hire me?"

"Because -- because -- I honestly don't know why.  It just seemed like the right thing to do."

"That's not a very good reason, Joshua."

So he was "Joshua" again, he noted.  Which meant that she liked his reason, no matter how weak she said it was.

"Yeah," he said, "but I was right."

"No, I was right.  I was the one who told you that you should hire me."

We're doing this again, are we? he thought.  I've missed this.

"Maybe we were both right," he suggested.

"I certainly don't think either one of us was wrong," she conceded.

"No, we weren't.  We were very right back then."

For a minute, Donna didn't say anything and Josh worried that maybe she was looking for a way to tell him she wouldn't join the campaign.

"Do you really think I can handle the press secretary job?"

"I wouldn't have offered it to you if I didn't think you could do the job."

"Sam says it's just an excuse to -- well, never mind what Sam says because we both know that's not true -- but Sam says I don't have enough experience."

"You have enough experience," he said, wondering what Sam had said that he and Donna both knew wasn't true.  "What's more, you're good at this, Donna.  You're really good, and you'd do a fabulous job."

"And you're not offering this to me because -- because we're friends?"

Oh, is that what we are now? Josh wondered.  He also wondered why that made him so depressed.  Friendship was more than he'd had from her in three years, after all.

"No," he said, "I'm offering it to you because you're the best person for the job.  So have you decided or not?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you've decided or yes, you're taking the job?"

"Yes, I've decided.  And, yes, I'm taking the job."

He had smiled more in the last ten minutes than he'd smiled in the last three years.  "Well, then I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Guess so.  Good night, Joshua."

"Good night, Donnatella."

THE END

07.09.01