"Hey!" Sam called as Donna stepped out of Toby's office the next morning. "What were you in with Oscar for?"

"Oscar?"

"The Grouch," Sam said with a lopsided smile as he hooked his thumb at the connecting window to Toby's office.

Donna stepped into the office and leaned against the desk. "I was issuing an invitation."

"An invitation to what?"

"To a grand night of spaghetti and news coverage after the vote," Donna said. "To which you are also cordially invited."

"Really? What's going on?"

"It's a thank you for the other night, and a fun thing for the group," Donna said. "We've been working a lot lately. I know you've still got the UN coming up, but I begged Toby and if you get a final draft of the B section approved today, he said you'd both show up."

"Before this day is over, I'm gonna end up taking the B section and shoving it down his throat," Sam mumbled.

"OK, that's the kind of attitude that will not get you to Josh's in time for dinner," Donna said.

"Valid point. OK, I will redo the B section another 15 times today to make Oscar happy," Sam said.

"I thank you and your stomach thanks you," Donna said. "At least it will after you taste my grandmother's recipe."

"It's good?"

"Donnatella is Italian, Sam. I was named after my full-blooded Italian great-grandmother, who gave the recipe to my grandmother, who gave it to my mother and me."

"Hell, for authentic Italian I'll rewrite the B section another 30 times," he said, turning to his keyboard. "Hey, you OK? You look a little peaked."

"I'm fine, I just didn't sleep well last night," she said.

"Shoulder giving you trouble?"

"Not that much anymore, no," Donna said honestly. "I just...yesterday was a full day, you know?"

"Yeah."

"OK. Write hard. I'll see you tonight."

"Hey, Donna?"

She turned and stepped back into his office.

"The whole thing with the 'thank you,' it's fine if you want to do it for that, but you know we didn't expect that, right? If it had been me Friday night instead of you, I would have bet the world that you guys would have been there when it was over. It's just what we do for each other."

"I know," she said, smiling sweetly. "Write away, I've gotta help Josh put the fear of God into a few Congressmen."

"Have fun."

**********************

"So you're saying he'll recover? Just like that?" Josh stopped in the Northwest Lobby as he listened Linden on the other end of the line. "But he'll be found fit to stand trial, though. OK. Bob, there's no chance this guy's gonna be given bail, is there? OK. Yeah. No, I'll tell her, I think that'll be better. Thanks for the call." He snapped the phone shut. "Damn."

He started toward the bullpen, then turned on his heel and headed for Leo's office.

Ten minutes later, Donna was on the phone when he entered the bullpen. He listened for her to hang up, then walked to his office door. "Donna."

She looked at him. He didn't just yell from his desk. This couldn't be good.

She got up and went into his office, and was even more alarmed when he waited by the door for her to enter and shut it behind her. He turned and leaned one shoulder against it, concentrating on the carpet.

"How many are we down?" she asked.

"What?"

"How many votes are we down? Who did we loose? We'll get them back, Josh. We've still got a few hours, we'll pull Sam and Toby off the UN address and set up a war room. We'll get them back. Who did we loose?"

"We didn't lose any votes," he said.

"Did something happen on the Hill?"

"No." It was literally going to pain him to tell her this. "Donna, I just heard from Linden. Bernard Packard woke up this morning."

She just looked at him, her expression not changing at all.

"He came out of the coma this morning," Josh said. "The doctors think he's gonna make it."

One beat. Two beats. Three.

"Oh." She shifted her weight from side to side, avoiding Josh's gaze. "Oh...well, you know...whatever. I mean, OK. I mean...whatever."

"Donna—"

"Don't," she said softly, pressing her hand against his torso to stop his progress into what she suspected was going to be a hug. "It's fine. Really. It's not like we were rooting for him to die, right?"

Josh didn't say anything.

"We weren't rooting for that, Josh."

"It's a little different when it's someone you...no. No, of course we weren't rooting for that."

"OK, so...what will happen to him now?" she asked.

"Well, eventually, he'll get a trial, just like Sullivan. He'll obviously be in the hospital for a while yet, but he'll be kept under guard, as he has been since he arrived. When he's well enough, he'll go to jail to await trial," Josh tried to sound confident.

"Unless he gets bail," she said.

"He won't," Josh put his hand over hers, which had stopped pushing against him and had begun nervously playing with the material of his tie. "There's no way, with the charges he's facing, he makes bail. Linden agrees."

"It's not unheard of for murder suspects to get bail, Josh, and anyway, I don't think he'd actually even be charged with murder. The ballistics report says that the bullet that killed Fred came from the strong...what was his name..."

"Palmer," Josh supplied. This really was throwing her for a loop. Donna didn't forget things like names.

"That the bullet that killed Fred came from Palmer's gun. I don't see how you can charge Bernard with that," Donna said. "He didn't actually kill anybody."

"Not for lack of trying," Josh said bitterly, squeezing her hand without thinking about it.

"Yes, for lack of trying!" Donna said. "He made it very clear the whole time, he didn't want anybody to get hurt. I'm not sure how you make a murder charge stick when not only didn't the guy pull the trigger, but he didn't even have intentions of hurting anyone in the first place!"

"He didn't have any intentions of—Donna, the bastard committed armed robbery! He took eight people hostage and scared the hell out of them for five hours, stopping only when the S.W.A.T. team came in and ended it! He threatened you directly and personally, two people were shot, one fatally, and to say he doesn't deserve to have the book thrown at him is just...don't act like he was some guy who accidentally hit somebody with his car!"

"I'm not," she said. Josh could hear the tears in her voice. "But what I'm saying is, there may not be grounds for denying him bail."

Josh bowed his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He removed her hand from his tie and took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her on the temple. "He won't get bail, Donna."

She hooked her fingers through two of his belt loops. "And if he does?"

"He won't. If there ends up being a thing, we'll think of something. I'll talk to somebody. But he won't," Josh said.

"Excuse me."

Josh looked up and Donna turned to see CJ standing in the side doorway. "Leo just told me."

Neither one of them said anything in response.

"Are you OK?" she looked at Donna softly.

"Sure," Donna said. "We were just...talking about the possibility of him making bail."

"No way," CJ said vehemently.

"See?" Josh nudged her in the back.

"You know, you guys should keep talking about how there's no chance of it happening, because it's not like that will tempt fate or anything," Donna said as she ran a hand over her eyes.

"You worry too much," CJ said.

"Yeah," Donna put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. "I'm gonna go back to work." She opened the door behind Josh and went back to her desk.

CJ's expression hardened a little when Donna left.

"What?" Josh asked.

"She's not handling things very well, is she?"

"She...I don't know. She does OK for a while, but...it seems like every time she starts to get up off the dirt something else comes along to knock her back down again," Josh said. He lowered his voice to a virtual whisper and stepped closer to CJ. "Last night...she dreamed that the guy showed up at the apartment and killed me. It was several minutes before I could shake her out of it. And that was before he woke up."

"When you say 'the apartment,' do you means yours or hers?"

"CJ—"

"I want what's best for her, Josh, I do," CJ said. "But how much longer do you think she's gonna be staying? You talk about how she keeps getting slapped down. If it gets out that she's moved in with you, the press, and by extension, public reaction will knock her on her ass."

"First of all, she has not 'moved in' with me," Josh said in a near growl. "Secondly, she is working on getting back to her place, but even her therapist doesn't think she's ready yet. She is taking steps, which she is free to tell you about if she wants, but I don't see that it's any of your business. The press want to throw a hissy fit? Let them. I'll walk in the room and tell them right now. I haven't done anything for her I wouldn't have done for you. That I haven't done for you, CJ, or have you forgotten that I slept on your couch the night Simon was killed? I don't recall there being a single discussion about image then."

CJ blinked and took a half a step back. Josh turned and paced the room.

"And I just told you that your friend is having nightmares so intense, she has trouble separating them from reality when she wakes up. I am not crazy about the fact that of that whole story, you chose to concentrate on whether she had said nightmare at my apartment or her own."

CJ had regained the power of speech.

"First of all, I don't work directly for you, which makes a hell of a difference when it comes to image," she said, the hurt evident in her voice. "Secondly, I am capable of concentrating on more than one thing at once, so believe it or not, I was actually worrying about her and worrying about what headaches you're about to cause for the administration at the same time. Third," she held up a hand, cutting off his rebuttal. "You should know that your voices were carrying a minute ago. Reporters are through this area all the time, and your voices were carrying. You don't want to read in The Post tomorrow that you said you'd pull strings to keep the guy in jail."

"I never said that!"

"If there's a thing, I'll talk to somebody," CJ quoted. "I know you wouldn't abuse your power, but how do you think a reporter is supposed to interpret that comment? And they hear with ears that are just as good as mine."

"Well...that's a good point," Josh conceded. "I will take that under consideration."

"You might also take under consideration that I am not heartless," CJ said.

"Leo told you about this...are you going to brief on it?"

"No, he just wanted me to know in case I got questions on it."

There was a beat during which both of them wished they'd never had the conversation. "About Donna's thing tonight, are you coming?" Josh asked.

"Do you want me there?"

"What he hell kind of— of course, I want you there, CJ."

"Then I will be there," CJ said. "I have to brief."

"Yeah."

****************

"What's the count?" Josh burst through the door, struggling with his backpack and two armfuls from the corner store.

"124-89," Donna said from behind the stove.

"Dammit, that's three more `Nay' votes since I left the office," Josh dropped everything in the entryway and came to stand in front of the television. "Who was it? Morrison?"

"Jones and McLean," Donna finished.

"Ah, the backwoods triumvirate," Josh snarled. "`Teachers? We don't need more teachers!'" he drawled in a country accent. "`Kids need less book learnin' and more common sense. Like Davey Crockett. Davey never needed no formal education.'"

"We've got it Josh, we've got it by 12 votes at the last headcount," Donna said. "There's no point in mocking on top of winning."

Josh leaned back and looked into the kitchen. "Do you want this to be fun for me or not?"

"Did you get the garlic bread?"

Josh's eyes went wide. "I...got beer."

"And?"

"Beer."

"And the garlic bread?"

"Not so much," Josh said, shoving his hands in his pockets and coming in the kitchen. "I forgot. I kind of had a one-track mind in there. I'm trying to reassert my manhood in front of Toby. Bread wasn't in the beer cave, so you really never had a chance."

"I know," Donna said. "Which is why I called and asked Sam to stop. He and Toby will be here a few minutes late as a result."

"Toby's riding with Sam?" Josh called as he went into the bedroom to change.

"Yeah, Toby's now in a snit over the D section of the President's address," Donna called.

"And you asked Sam to stop and get garlic bread even though Toby would be with him?"

"Yeah."

"Because Sam's dignity as a man..."

"Really doesn't matter that much to me," Donna finished.

"Ah. OK," He came up behind her. "Where did you get that pot?"

She turned around and gave him a look. "Your cabinet."

"I had that huge pot in my cabinet?"

"Yes."

"Why would I ever buy a pot like that? I never cook."

"It probably came as part of a set, Josh, and I'm a little concerned that you don't recognize things you own," Donna said as she checked the flame beneath the pasta pot. She turned it up a little to bring the water to a higher boil.

"This is quite an operation," he said as he poked at the sauce simmering in the large saucepan with a long-handled spoon. "I had no idea you were so...domestic."

"I'm not domestic," she said, elbowing him in the stomach lightly. "This is tradition."

"Well, God bless tradition," Josh said as he reached into the salad bowl for a crouton. A slap to the back of his hand stopped him short. "Don't eat all the croutons out of the salad," she said without even looking at him.

"I'm hungry!" he whined.

"Then you may make a bowl of salad, but don't eat all the croutons out of it and leave the rest of us without any," she said.

"The croutons are the only part I want," he pouted.

"Well, life's hard sometimes, isn't it, Josh?"

"It is when I've got the Spaghetti Nazi in my kitchen."

"You'd better put the beer up before it gets warm."

"'Kay," Josh backed away and headed back toward the entryway. "I got one six pack of that girly Smirnoff stuff you and CJ like, but if you tell Toby I got it, I'll call you a liar to your face."

Donna laughed. "Your secret's safe."

"And I got—" he stuck his head around the corner as he heard another 'nay' vote on C-Span. "Pruitt?!? You'd better answer your phone tomorrow, Bill, because it's gonna be me, making an appointment to bash your head in!"

"Josh."

"He was a 'probably yea.'"

"He was an undecided."

"He told me he was leaning toward voting for it," Josh said.

"He was still an undecided," Donna said. "He's facing a tough primary challenge, he can't be seen as siding with the Democrats on any major issue right now. He wasn't in the 'yea' headcount, so we're still good."

Josh glared at the screen for another second, then turned back to the fridge. "Yeah, alright. I got some of that—"

A loud yelp from Donna sent him spinning. She'd stopped stirring the sauce momentarily to adjust the flame under the pasta pot. But it was the sauce that had been simmering too high, and a healthy amount of the bubbling mixture had sputtered from the pan and caught her left hand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy," Josh was behind her in a second, turning her toward the sink and starting the cold water while simultaneously cutting off the burner under the sauce.

Donna hissed and whimpered a little as Josh ran her hand and forearm under the water. The sauce had spattered on the back of her hand and up onto her forearm, including the bandage around her wrist. She'd pushed her sweater sleeves up while cooking, as the apartment had gotten warmer.

"It's scalded, but I don't think it's too bad," Josh said, pulling her arm out from under the water to examine it more closely. "We'll need to change this, though." He undid the single piece of tape on the bandage and unwound it quickly, before Donna had the chance to react.

He stopped cold at the sight of the angry red cut that extended across the top and sides of her left wrist in a straight line. It was deep and even all the way across, and even though it had begun to heal, he could still see the faint blue tinge around the edge of cut, where it had bruised. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Donna, what..." he looked at her for a second, and when she didn't offer an explanation, her gently picked up her right wrist and unwound that bandage. An identical cut appeared on that side, only this one ran across the underside of her wrist. There was no denying what had caused them.

"H-he tied your wrists?" he whispered.

"They don't hurt," she responded softly.

Something that had been strained to the limit since Friday night snapped inside of him, and he felt a tear slide down his cheek. "He tied your wrists?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "You knew that, it was in my statement."

Josh shook his head. "I didn't know that. I must have...I stepped out for a few minutes. I guess I missed..."

"Oh," Donna said softly, her eyes getting wide. "They needed a delay when they were leaving, to keep us from calling the police too soon..."

"Don't dare make excuses for him," Josh whispered as he stared at her hands, tears balancing precariously on his lower eyelids. "It would have to be pretty tight...what the hell did he use, bailing wire?"

"Cable ties," she said softly.

"God," he whispered, turning her arm over and continuing to examine the damage. "Cable ties?" He looked at her face and Donna was stunned by his display of emotion. "That tight?"

"He was pretty pissed at me at the time," Donna said simply.

Josh cocked his head at her. "Why?"

"The thing with Patti."

The sob overcame him before he realized it was there, and Donna's own tears started at that. He let go of her wrists and held her tight against him.

"Why did you do that?" he said, voice choked with tears, as he brought his hand up to the back of her head. "He could have killed you, Donna, you shouldn't have given him an extra reason."

"I thought he was gonna kill her if it kept up," Donna whispered by his ear, her tears soaking into the shoulder of his shirt. "It just came out."

"You have to be careful. You've got to be careful, Donna," he beseeched her. "I've gotta know that you're not gonna do something to get yourself...God, it was hours of sitting there, imagining the worst. And without a damn thing I could do about it."

She turned her face further against the side of his as a new wave of emotion swept over her. "I know the feeling."

Josh breathed out heavily. "I'm sorry. If it was anything like that, if it was even half as bad as what I went through Friday night, I'm so sorry I put you through it."

"You are forgiven," she whispered tearfully. "As long as you keep the promise you made last night."

He kissed her cheek. "I promise, Don," he whispered. "Just remember, you've got to keep up your end of the bargain." He planted another light kiss on the side of her face.

"I promise," she said softly, planting a little kiss on his jaw under his ear. They pulled back only slightly. She had intended to wipe a tear track from his cheek, but for some reason, ended up kissing him there instead. He dropped a tender kiss in the corner of her cheek and her nose. She kissed the top of his nose, pink from the tears he'd shed. He kissed the little indention between her chin and lower lip.

When their lips finally touched, it was a kiss that was emotional and sweet, chaste and loving, filled with gratitude and relief. There was no lust or greed or uncertainty. It almost felt like an extension of the friendship they'd always shared. Their tears mixed and mingled on their cheeks and Josh unconsciously brought a hand up to the side of her face and brushed at her tears with his thumb.

The door buzzer broke the trance and started their brains working again. They didn't jerk apart like teenagers caught necking, but Josh ended the kiss and pulled back slowly. Donna couldn't mistake the look of shame on his face.

"I probably shouldn't have done that," he whispered, eyes downcast, hand still at the side of her face.

She wanted to respond, but she didn't have the words. She wasn't sorry. Not if he wasn't. But he looked like he'd die from guilt.

The buzzer rang again, being repeatedly pressed this time.

"Dammit, Toby," Josh said. Neither made a move to step away from each other. His eyes still downcast, he picked up her left hand. "Your hand's OK?"

"Yeah," she managed finally. "It's fine."

"Okay," he drew his fingers across her cheeks to wipe away the tears. "I'm gonna let them in, if you wanna go put some more of that stuff on your wrists."

Donna took the dishtowel that had been thrown over her shoulder and swiped gently at his cheeks. "'Kay." He took the dishtowel from her shyly, meeting her eyes only momentarily. He kissed the back of her hand where it had been burned. "Go," he whispered.

She maintained physical contact with him for as long as possible, but finally let her fingertips slip from his and went into the bathroom as the buzzer rang again. "Kill him for me, would you?" she said as she closed the door.

"Happy to," he muttered as he crossed the living area and hit the intercom. "WHAT?!?"

"I'm beginning to feel a little unwelcome," Toby's voice floated through the speaker. Josh cut the connection, buzzed them in, and opened the front door. He swiped at his face one last time, hoping there was no visible evidence he'd broken down.

He heard CJ's voice coming up the steps with them and figured they'd bumped into each other along the way.

"How long do you think it takes to stop off and pick up a loaf of garlic bread?" Toby asked him as he appeared in the doorway. "If you're Sam, you've got to go to Dean & Deluca, chat up the girl behind the bread counter for 10 minutes, wander through the cooking utensils, get snagged by the wine guy, start up a conversation with him on what wines go best with Italian, get a bottle of that, have an in-depth conversation with the lady at the checkout about bringing a dessert, only to nix the idea when I threaten you with bodily harm.  So, the answer is, a pretty damn long time."

Josh came back with the last couple of beers that he hadn't put away yet from the kitchen. "Pruitt was a 'nay.'"

"Of course he was, he's facing a hell of a challenge in the primary," Toby said, accepting the proffered bottle. "You'll have a little fun with him tomorrow, though."

"Oh yeah," Josh responded, taking a long swig of his own beer. 

"Hey!" Sam tore himself away from his conversation with CJ about the pros and cons of tiramisu when Donna stepped back into the living area. "We brought wine!"

"I can see that," Donna smiled. "Along with half of Dean & Deluca."

"No, just the bread and the wine. I was going to get dessert, but tiramisu doesn't travel well," he said.

"Girly man," Toby accused.

Sam gave Donna a look behind Toby's back and stepped into the kitchen to find a corkscrew.

"You OK?" CJ asked quietly, noticing Donna's eyes were red rimmed.

"I'm good," she said. Seeing CJ's questioning look, she added. "I had the sauce up too high. It spattered and I scalded my hand."

"Ouch," CJ scrunched her face up.

"It's just a little red," Donna said, holding it up for her to see. "As a matter of fact, I'd better turn it back on."

"I've got it," CJ said. "You pour the wine." She disappeared into the kitchen.

Donna leaned up against the wall, her eyes glued to Josh, who was pretending to listen to Toby go on about the Republican primary in the North Carolina 10th. His eyes were cast back toward her, but Toby had one eye on the television and didn't notice. She maintained eye contact with Josh, unable to read his expression.

Great job, Josh. Just great. You made it less than 72 hours before you blew it. She's not ready for this, he thought as he looked at her. And you probably just screwed up the best thing in your life.