The room was quiet except for Josh's light snoring when the alarm went off, waking Donna. She screwed her face into a tight little ball and tried to muffle the sound with the pillow. After a few seconds she cracked one eye open and gave the appliance the death glare, before smacking it soundly, sending the clock into snooze mode. 

The room fell silent again, and she would have happily slept until the next alarm, but she couldn't. She was trapped under 175 pounds of snoring political operative, who apparently wasn't disturbed at all by loud annoying sounds. She was pinned to the mattress face-down, and he had apparently decided to use the back of her shoulder for a pillow. One of his arms was flung over her back and hung off the side of the bed. The other was probably somewhere in the vicinity of the dead fish that was now apparently located where her right arm used to be, just beyond his head.

She tried gently shifting around beneath him. Well, what little shifting she could do, but apparently his sleeping brain took this as a signal to snuggle closer and tighter to her back. The good news is, it freed up her dead-fish arm, and she slowly pulled it toward her, turning her head to look at it. Hey, she still had a hand. And one, two, three, four, five fingers. And that painful needle sensation that came when the circulation began returning to a neglected limb. Ow. Ow. Ow.

"Josh," she growled into the pillow. Mr. Snooze just nuzzled his face into her back. If it hadn't been so early in the morning she would have found that adorable. "Josh."

"Hmm?"

"Get off me."

"Mmm."

What the hell was that? An attempt to placate me? As if I wouldn't notice the grown man that's still sleeping on me?

"Joooosh," she drawled.

"Hmm?"

God, he sounded sexy when he was half asleep and all...raspy. "Get. Off. Of. Me." She reached around with her needle-fish arm and tickled his ribs, causing him to jolt off of her body and roll away from the intrusion her fingers had caused, toward the other side of the bed. He nuzzled his face into the pillow slightly, an unconscious smile crossing his face as he did, and suddenly Donna felt much less special over the nuzzling.

She rolled onto her back, trying to work the stiffness out of her muscles, and massaging her still-prickling arm. She took a deep breath and sneezed suddenly, following it up with a cough so harsh she could feel the congestion moving slightly in her chest. Great.

"Allergies my ass," Josh mumbled, almost unintelligibly, into the pillow.

"It's just a little cough," she said. "I'm not sick."

"You are," he mumbled into the pillow.

"I'm not."

"Will be," he said, lifting his head and scrubbing his face furiously with his hand. He rolled toward her again and had to readjust his position when he rolled on top of her.

"This is a much tighter fit than your bed," she said, almost apologetically.

"I don't mind it," he said, closing his eyes again as he rolled onto his side and laid an arm over her stomach, doing the nuzzling thing again, this time with the side of her face. "Keeps you closer."

She smiled, laying a hand on his forearm and closing her eyes. She was just starting to drift again when the alarm clock decided she'd had enough time.

"We have to get up," she said as she slapped the snooze button again.

"No," he said, snuggling closer to her.

She turned and kissed his forehead. "You have senior staff at 9 a.m."

"Screw that," he mumbled.

"Josh," she laughed.

"I'm serious. Call the President and tell him I'm not coming in."

"And why should I tell him you won't be there?"

"Tell him I'm spending the day in bed with you," he said, sleepy grin creeping across his face.

She dipped her head and kissed the bridge of his nose. "That'll go over really well."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing one eye with the ball of his hand and forcing himself awake. "What do I have today?"

"Senior staff at 9."

"I mean after."

"You're meeting with Congressman Skinner and some junior Republican senators Monday on Charlie's Teachers," she said. "You need to prep."

"I don't need to prep," Josh said. "Matt thinks these guys have one toe over the line toward voting for the funding anyway. All I have to do is not screw it up."

"A task for which you are uniquely suited," she lifted her hand off his forearm and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, enjoying holding him close. Enjoying him holding her close.

"What else?"

"That's it for work, but afterward you're taking me to Corcoran," she said casually.

Josh furrowed his brow without opening his eyes. "The museum?"

"Mmm hmm."

He opened his eyes again. "When was I taking you to Corcoran?"

"There's an exhibit there I wanna see," she shrugged. "And spending an afternoon in the art museum is much more conducive to the tabling than spending it here or at your place."

He groaned and let his head fall to her shoulder. "Spending the afternoon in an art museum is also conducive to allowing me to lapse into a coma."

She poked him in the ribs gently with her index finger. "You'll like it. It's an interesting exhibit."

"It can't be that interesting. It's an art museum. It's related to art."

She shifted onto her side so she was facing him, but he had snuggled up a little below her, leaving her lips level with his forehead. She touched her lips to his skin gently. "Art can be all sorts of things," she said against his forehead. "It could be an exhibit about the Mets, for all you know."

His eyes popped open. "Is it an exhibit about the Mets?"

"No, it's an exhibit about quilts," she said.

"Donnaaa—"

"I'll just ask Carol or Margaret," she said.

He paused. "Then what will I do all afternoon?"

She shrugged. "Whatever you want."

He heaved a heavy sigh, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Not a word to Toby."

She kissed his forehead. "I promise."

He reached up and tilted her chin down to him. "Good morning," he said before kissing her gently. He still had that great raspy thing going on, Donna noticed.

He pulled away but Donna grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him one more time. "Good morning yourself."

He rolled onto his back beside her. "I hate the table."

"Yeah." They stared at the ceiling momentarily before she nudged him with her knee. "Go take a shower."

"No. You go. It'll take you longer to get ready."

"That's OK. Go ahead."

They were silent for a moment. "Are you trying to trick me into letting you sleep for 15 more minutes?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Uh huh."

"Well," Donna mused, "We could always—"

"Do not make that suggestion, Donna. I am putting you back on the straight and narrow, you little nymph. Go."

She grinned before throwing the covers over his face as she put her feet on the floor. "Fine."

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

"Where are we with the Senate vote on Charlie's teachers?" Bartlet asked.

"We've got it by two votes at the last headcount, conservatively," Leo said.

Bartlet looked up from his coffee mug. "I want a bigger margin than that."

"And we're gonna get you one, sir," Josh said. "Congressman Skinner's gonna help me tag team the freshman Republican senators tomorrow. Mason and Henry are working on their opposed colleagues in the plains states, although I'm not hopeful that we'll get many of them turned around. Ed and Larry are meeting with Gutierrez and Dolen tomorrow, and I'm actually very hopeful we'll make some progress with them."

"I want to see some movement on it at least," Bartlet said. "How did this get so polarized? 52-48 is too close to falling along party lines, and I don't want this coming across as a partisan program."

"Which wouldn't be as much of a problem if it weren't such a partisan program," Toby said.

Bartlet looked almost wounded. "It's not!"

"No, of course it's not, sir, but that's how it's playing in the back rooms these guys are meeting in," Toby said. "Senate Democrats were giddy when they heard about the teacher corps. They were practically skipping through the Rotunda, bearing the message that Democrats are the education party and here's the proof, having come straight from their leader." Toby motioned to Bartlet.

"Well, like it or not, I'm the leader of the Republicans, too," Bartlet said with a gleam in his eye.

"Yes, sir, but they're mostly on the 'not' side of that line," Toby said.

"Anyway," Sam said, shutting his folio and standing, "Our favorite core group of guys on the right who aren't really known for being team players started spinning the teacher corps, big time."

"They took it from an education initiative to a welfare initiative," CJ said. "And then we were really off to the races."

"Yeah," Bartlet slumped a little in the chair and let out an exasperated breath. "Politicians," he groused.

The rest of them laughed softly.

"We're gonna get it done?" Bartlet looked at Josh.

"Mr. President, if I do nothing from now until next Wednesday, we're gonna get it done. It's already done. We're just gonna be using this week and a half to get it...really done."

"It is a nonpartisan program, Josh," the President said firmly.

"Yes, sir."

"It's putting kids through college, but if that's not enough of a good thing, it's gonna turn around a few years later and put teachers in classrooms. This has nothing to do with politics and everything to do with making life better for young Americans, on both sides of the program."

Josh nodded dutifully, but Leo stepped in. "I think we're all familiar with the particulars of the program, Mr. President," he said with a little smile.

Bartlet looked over at him. "A little preaching to the choir?"

"A little, yes sir."

"Alright," Bartlet said, closing his own folio and standing. "Thanks everybody. We're done. Have a good day."

They began to file out of the room. "Josh," Bartlet called. 

Josh turned and approached the President's desk.

"How's Donna doin'?" the President asked.

Josh couldn't help but smile. "Better, I think. A lot better. I mean, unbelievable when you consider it's been just over a week."

"She had a tough time there at the beginning," Bartlet prodded, trying to make sure Josh wasn't glossing over the situation.

"You're tellin' me," Josh said. "But somewhere along the line, she...I don't know, she just seemed to get a grip on the fear."

"Leo told me she's been continuing to meet with Stanley by phone."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, that'll do a lot, won't it?"

Josh nodded, an unspoken and deeply personal understanding passing between the two men.

"I brought it up," Bartlet said, "because Leo told me the ringleader's due to be arraigned tomorrow."

"Yeah," Josh said. "She's got a little anxiety about it, to be sure. Our contact at MPD feels confident that even if he gets bail it'll be sky high, but Donna just doesn't want him on the streets again, even temporarily." He grew quiet and a little thoughtful. "She can't stand the thought of him on the streets again."

"Then that makes two of us," Bartlet said.

"Three," Josh added.

Bartlet took a beat to look at him. "You've done really well this week."

"Oh," Josh waved away what he thought was a compliment to his political strategizing. "Sometimes you just gotta drop the finesse and put these guys in headlocks. It was nothing new."

"I meant with Donna," Bartlet gestured to the door of the Oval. "You've been very supportive of her when she's been dealing with all of this. Not that I would have expected any less, but...don't minimize the role you might have played in her recovery."

Josh looked at the toes of his shoes. "I owed her one."

"No, you didn't," Bartlet shook his head. "You don't owe any of us one, and you know that. You did it for her for the exact same reason she...all of us...did it for you."

Josh nodded, unsure of what to say.

Bartlet grinned and threw his hand at Josh. "Alright, get outta here."

He started for the door, relieved to have the intensity of the moment broken. "Thank you, Mr. President."

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

"Have you been listening?" Donna asked, sniffling a little as they walked toward the South Gate.

"Not remotely," he said. "People are gonna see me."

"They're just gonna think you're leaving," Donna said.

"I never go out this way," Josh whined.

"This is the closest way," she said. "It's right there." She pointed to the museum, just across the street.

"People are gonna know I'm going to see art!"

"Well, God forbid people should think you're cultured, Joshua."

A little sneer crossed his face and he leaned closer to her as they walked. "What did I say about calling me that?"

"That you like it," Donna said flatly after a little cough.

"That I like it," Josh nodded, opening the gate for her as the guard buzzed them out. "And yet you used it, right here in public."

Donna stopped and turned on her heel, causing Josh to nearly walk into her. "I did. How will you stop yourself from grabbing me right here on the street and doing things to me you've only dreamed about?" She maintained a perfect, if a little stuffy, monotone, accented with an arched eyebrow.

"How will I—" Josh cleared his throat to try to bring his voice back down to its normal range. "I really don't know."

It was Donna's turn to sneer. "Find a way." She turned and resumed her quick march toward the museum.

Josh jogged a couple steps to catch up to her. "Would you like to hear about my dreams?"

"Public place, Josh."

"Didn't stop you," he said.

"I'm much better at being covert than you are."

Josh merely huffed, knowing she was correct. "Why do you want to see this exhibit so badly? The Quilts of Butcher's Holler?"

"The Quilts of Gee's Bend!" she nearly shouted as they approached the museum. "I just think it will be interesting. They're not traditional quilts. This community, Gee's Bend, was an isolated area of Alabama, and the quilts were made for practical use, not for decorative purposes or to be art. But they're reminiscent of all sorts of more famous abstract modern art, which these women were never exposed to. I just think the parallels are interesting."

"I'm gonna take your word for that," Josh said as they entered the museum and followed the signs that pointed toward the exhibit.

"No, you are not going to take my word for that," Donna said. "You're going to learn something this afternoon."

"I'm sure you're going to learn all sorts of interesting things, Donna. I, on the other hand, am going to be preoccupied thinking about things I've only dreamed about." He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice, just enough to get a little gravelly effect. "I don't have a dream that involves a quilt per se, but I'll work on one."

"Josh!" she tried to be annoyed, but she couldn't completely suppress her smile.

"No, seriously, I'm going to try to use this as inspiration."

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

Josh guided Donna out of the exhibit with a gentle hand unconsciously placed at the small of her back.

"Well?" she said.

Josh cocked his head from side to side. "I learned things."

"Such as?"

"The quilts were sold in eastern department stores in the Civil Rights era, but they couldn't comply with the demand for identical quilts, because they didn't make them based primarily on looks. They were made to be functional with whatever material they had available," he said dutifully.

"Very nice," she said. "I am glad to see you didn't waste the whole thing dreaming up erotic quilt dreams."

"Oh, I did that, too."

"Josh," she moaned.

"Yeah, there was a lot of that involved," he said, dimples piercing his face.

She smacked him firmly in the stomach with her arm. They continued walking aimlessly for a minute, down the wide corridor almost completely devoid of people, their steps echoing softly off the walls, occasionally punctuated by a little cough or sniffle from Donna.

They wound up in an exhibit of photos taken by members of the White House News Photographers Association. They both exchanged amused smiles as they stepped to the walls to take a closer look.

A large photo at the beginning of the exhibit showed the President in the Oval with the featured photographers, many of whom were proudly holding their winning entries. The entries themselves hung on the walls. Some were taken on the Hill, in the city or even on trips the President had taken that had given the photographers time to go searching for side assignments. But most of them were set on the very familiar terrain in and around the White House.

As part of an annual exhibit and professional contest, the photos were all taken the previous year. Many of them focused on the days surrounding Zoey's kidnapping and the President stepping down, his face shell-shocked, his shoulders slumped wearily. But there were happier moments as well. Donna smiled broadly at a shot she'd never seen before of Leo, the President, Toby and Josh standing out on the portico near the Oval. The light was soft and natural, and the men stood huddled in a group, obviously discussing some of the less serious matters of running the country. Leo was talking, gesturing toward Josh in his easy to recognize "Do-what-I'm-telling-you-to" gesture. Toby was in the background, listening intently, jaw set. The President, apparently amused with the conversation, had a little smile on his face, and despite the fact that Josh, who stood straight and tall as he looked at Leo, was trying to take the order seriously, you could see the hint of one dimple in the profile shot of him.

Josh walked up behind her. "That's a good one."

"Of all of you," Donna said. "Do you remember what you were laughing about?"

"I don't even remember the conversation," Josh said.

Donna leaned a little closer. "That's a great shot," she said.

Josh poked her in the back. "Don't drool all over it."

"Don't flatter yourself," she said, turning away from the photo. "For all you know I was drooling over Leo."

"Ahkay, Donna, that's just not right," he said, screwing his face up tightly.

Donna laughed, but another photo caught her attention. A shot taken from a distance with a good zoom lens, in one of the driveways, of Charlie and Zoey. There were Secret Service agents in the background, and a car with a waiting open passenger door could be seen in the corner of the shot, so presumably she was about to leave. It wasn't long after the kidnapping—the bruises on her face were still clearly visible and she wore her arm in a sling. She was looking down at something she was holding in her hands, something small and flat, a CD, maybe a small book. And the emotion in her face as she looked at it was just...overwhelming, even to the outside observer. Charlie was bent toward her slightly, not touching her at all except for the finger he was using to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

It was a deception, and Donna knew it. She knew it because she'd participated in the same kind of behavior with Josh for years. She could see the caring and concern in Charlie's eyes, could detect the barely visible way Zoey leaned into the tiny touch. She found herself wondering if she and Josh were that transparent. And if so, why they hadn't been a little more transparent to each other.

Josh stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, propping his chin on her shoulder. "Maybe next year there'll be one of you, is that what you're thinking?" he said quietly.

She turned, her face dangerously close to his. "Maybe it will be this one, that's what I'm thinking."

"There's nobody here."

"There are probably security cameras," she said pointedly.

"Hey, guess how we counter that story?" Josh said. "CJ gets asked about it and she says, 'Josh Lyman? In an art museum? Must be a case of mistaken identity.'"

Donna laughed and the sad moment released its hold on her. She nudged his nose with hers and he kissed her sweetly over her shoulder.

"Let's get outta here," he said against her lips.

She pulled back and raised her eyebrows. "I thought you were putting this thing back on the straight and narrow."

"Oh, the table is most definitely still in effect," he said. "But I'm starving. Let's get some lunch."

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

"Where to?" Josh asked as they stepped out of the museum, sliding his new gloves back on with a smile he wasn't even aware of. We can drop your car off at your place if you want to." He stood at the intersection, facing the White House. "Have you tried that new Mexican place on..."

Donna was standing a few feet away from him, looking away from the White House. She was looking south, toward E Street. He approached her and laid a hand on her elbow. "Donna?"

"It's Sunday," she said, not looking at him, continuing to stare toward the intersection less than a block away. "We have a regular lunch appointment on Sundays."

"Yeah, but we've eaten it already this...Donna. Donna, come on. I don't think that's the best—"

"I think I can do it," she said, turning to face the street full on, as if the street sign itself was the object of her fear.

Josh stepped into her line of vision. "You've done a hell of a lot already this week, Donna. Look at all the progress you've made. You're back at your place. You haven't had an episode in days. Even the nightmares seem to be bothering you less."

Donna stared at him. "And those are your reasons why I shouldn't do it?"

"I'm saying, don't you think you're pushing yourself a little hard, here? I...I don't know, it's the kind of thing I'd run by Stanley first," he said, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm not a complete emotional invalid, Josh," she said sternly.

He froze. "I don't recall saying that. I don't recall implying or even thinking that."

"I'm sorry," she said instantly. "But, I just...it would make me really happy to do it."

"And you will do it, eventually," Josh said. "I just don't know if we should...right here after...at least talk to Stanley about it."

"I will tomorrow," she nodded. "He's gonna be so surprised when I tell him I did it."

She marched toward E Street with a single-minded determination.

"Donna," Josh chased after her, sort of running sideways alongside her. "Donna, let's go to lunch."

"Okay," Donna said. "I'm going to Capitol Grille."

"Let's go somewhere else," Josh said.

"You can go somewhere else if you want to," Donna said, never looking away from the intersection ahead. "I'm going to Karim's."

He was beginning to get a little hysterical at the thought of, well, her getting a little hysterical. "Donna," he said, grabbing her by the elbows. "Let's go back to the apartment. Let's go back...and I'll tell you all about my quilt fantasy. I'll even demonstrate."

She coughed a couple times, then laid a hand on his cheek. "You're cute, you know that? I'll meet you at the apartment after lunch."

"Dammit, Donna!" he called after her.

"It's just lunch," she said, turning around to look at him as she continued to back down the sidewalk. "How hard can it be? It's just lunch."

"It's right across the street from the—"

She nodded. "I know."

"Donna, what if you—"

She shook her head, dismissing his concerns. "I won't. I've got you with me," she stopped backing up abruptly. "Don't I?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking around him as the dread steadily built inside of him. "We're just going to lunch?"

Donna nodded.

He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times. "Dammit," he whispered. "I want to go on record, here and now, saying I do NOT believe this is a good idea."

"Your objection is noted," Donna said, a little nervous bounce finding its way into her own step. "Let's go."

They reached E Street and turned right, not speaking a word to each other on the journey. It was a relatively miserable winter day, and while downtown was far from dead, the weather and the weekend had combined to make the streets much more empty than usual.

They walked a block and a half in total silence. Finally able to make out the neon "open" sign of Karim's restaurant near the end of the block, Josh nudged her toward the curb. "We ought to go ahead and cross."

She stopped at his touch, but continued to stare straight ahead, hands in her coat pockets, posture stick straight. "No," she said after a moment. "We'll cross at the light."

"Donna," he said softly, sidling up to her. "To get to the light we're gonna have to walk right past it. We should cross here."

She looked as if she was trying to bore holes in the flat façade she could barely make out from this distance and angle. "I just wanna…" she started softly. "We can cross at the light." She began walking forward again.

Josh's eyes grew wide. "Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa. No. No, Donna. I did not agree to this."

"I didn't ask for your permission," Donna said neutrally, taking slow, even steps toward the bank. "Are you coming with me or not?"

Josh stayed rooted to the spot. "Not," he said harshly. That got the response he was going for. She turned around and stared at him from about 10 paces away. He tried hard to ignore the hurt on her face in favor of doing what he thought was best for her. "Donna, this is ridiculous. You're just asking for extra pain. Come back here, let's cross the street, we'll go to lunch, like we said we were gonna do. Stop trying to torture yourself with this! Get the OK from Stanley and I'll bring you here in a damn limo, but in the meantime, I'm not gonna help you hurt yourself!"

She was grateful for the slight wind that was blowing in her face, since it helped her fight the tears in her eyes. She stood there, sizing him up for a moment, trying to see if there was some sort of noble motive behind his harsh words, as was sometimes the case with him. But he'd thrown his walls up full force, effectively blocking her analysis. He held her gaze, chest rising and falling a little more than usual after the outburst, little white puffs filling the air with every sharp exhale. She, on the other hand, held her own breath, willing herself to keep it together in front of him.

Finally, she managed to force a few words past her lips. "I'll see you later."

She turned and started walking down the sidewalk as quickly as her legs would move. Josh stood dumbfounded after the whole thing had blown up in his face. He'd needed her to relent. He'd needed to get her off the track she was headed down at any cost, and not only had he failed to do that, but he'd hurt her as an added bonus. The moment replayed in his mind and he realized where he'd pushed too far, heedless of the warning signs that he was about to do so. And now she was headed straight for the bank, alone, and already upset. With a muttered curse, he ran after her at a full sprint.

He caught up to her in only a few seconds. She'd been walking with arms folded over her stomach and her head down. He approached her at a dead run and wrapped his arms around her from behind, squeezing her tightly.

"I'm sorry," he said lowly into her ear. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Donna."

She remained still for a moment, eyes closed, allowing him rock her back and forth gently. Finally she reached a hand up and laid it one on of his arms near the wrist.

He tilted his face flush with her ear. "I'm so sorry."

"Okay," she whispered.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Okay," she said again. She opened her eyes and looked at the pedestrian traffic in front of her. She saw a few people she didn't recognize cast fleeting glances their way. She broke from his arms and pushed him into a narrow alley between an office and a storefront.

She pushed him back against the brick wall of one building under a fire escape, and stepped away, pacing to the other side of the narrow space as she ran her gloved fingers across her cheeks to clear them of any tears that might have fallen. He hated himself in that moment for having caused her pain, but he stayed still and quiet where she'd put him. He understood that this moment belonged entirely to her.

She folded her arms across her stomach and leaned back against the wall opposite Josh, sniffling a little. He wasn't sure whether it was because of him or from whatever she was coming down with. He waited, however impatiently, for her to voice her thoughts.

She looked at him for a while, at the stark contrast in his demeanor from a few minutes ago. He looked meek, shy, guilty. Like the neighborhood kid who shows up on your doorstep to tell you he just hit a baseball through your window. He's hoping you won't punish him for it, but he also knows that if you do, he's got it coming.

"Why did you do that?" she said in slow, measured tones.

He just stared at her. She wasn't sure if he was trying to formulate a response or if he somehow thought the question was rhetorical.

"Speak, Josh."

He inhaled. "I was trying to stop you from going down there."

Donna pressed her shoulder blades a little deeper into the brick, feeling the cold crawl along her spine. "Because you don't think I'm ready to face it."

Josh dropped his gaze to the ground and nodded.

"And you think you're the best judge of that?"

He shook his head, eyes still downcast. "I said…Stanley."

That brought her up short. It was true, after all.

"Did you mean the things you said?" she asked defiantly.

"What part of it?"

"Do you even remember what you said, Josh?" Donna asked sadly.

"That you were asking for extra heartache," he said. "That I was not gonna help you hurt yourself." He took a deep breath. "I shouldn't have shouted it, granted. But Donna…I did mean it."

Well, that took guts. "Do you think I'm trying to torture myself, Josh?"

"I don't know, Donna."

"Why didn't you want me going?" she asked.

"I told you," he said.

"Why, Josh?"

"Because if you get down there, and you have a…you said back at the museum that you weren't worried because I was with you. And I appreciate that you trust me with that, Donna, but you never really asked if…I'm worried Donna," he pressed the fingertips of one hand into his chest.

"About?"

"What do you think?" he said. "I'm worried that I won't know what to do if things get out of hand for you. Or that I'll do the wrong thing and accidentally make it worse. Much like just then." He motioned back out at the street.

"You'd know what to do," she said, pushing away from the wall and taking a couple steps toward him. "You've known what to do so far. A few minutes ago not withstanding."

"Not so much," Josh said. "I've been sorta winging it."

"Winging it?"

"I was kinda hoping you hadn't noticed," he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "Donna, look, when I was going through everything that Christmas, you…you just knew what to do. You knew when to go to somebody else for help with it, you knew what to do that night after I got done with Stanley. You just…you knew. I don't have that same instinct. I don't just know what to do. I appreciate that you trust me to do the right thing for you, but the point is that I don't trust myself to know what that is."

Donna closed her eyes, shaking her head a little, the hint of a smile playing across her lips. "You really do think you're the only person in the world who's ever the least bit unsure, don't you?"

"I…"

"Josh," she said, taking a few more steps toward him. "I don't wanna alarm you, but that Christmas, I was pretty much winging it myself."

His brow furrowed a little. "You're saying you were…"

"Believe it or not, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't let this get around, but I am not a human encyclopedia of all knowledge," she said.

"You mean that was…"

"I'm saying we're all muddling through the best way we know how, and I'm saying it wouldn't kill you to give yourself a little credit."

He slumped against the wall. "And what kind of credit does that little display out there get me?" he asked ruefully.

Donna ground the toe of her shoe into the pavement. "You'll make it up to me."

He nodded, and the last of his resolve to stay put was gone. He pushed away from the wall and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Donna," he whispered into her hair.

She wrapped her arms around his ribs, rubbing his back a little in a comforting gesture. "Okay."

"I'll make it up to you."

"That ought to be fun."

He laughed softly and buried his face in her shoulder.

"Okay," she said, pulling him away from her. "Let's get this show on the road."

He pulled back and nodded. "You still wanna…" he motioned down the street.

She nodded. "Yes, Josh."

"Ahkay," he said. "I'm gonna come, if that's…"

She nodded again. "That's fine. Actually…it would mean a lot to me."

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

The bank loomed ahead of her as she approached. The sight of it made her heart jump into her throat, but she forced herself to take a step, then another, until she was walking on autopilot. She kept her eyes trained on the front of the building, like she expected it to suddenly lash out at her, as if the brick and mortar itself had somehow retained some of the ugly impulses from what happened that night.

She stopped one door down from the bank, sizing it up, arms folded defensively over her chest. She shivered, then turned, realizing she wasn't sure where Josh was.

He stood less than a foot away, half a step behind her, a look of determination fixed firmly on his face. He met her eyes. "I'll be right beside you. Go as far as you want." She nodded and turned back toward the building. "Donna, take it slow, OK?" he said softly near her ear. She answered him with another nod. She inhaled and was surprised at how ragged the breath was. There was a dull ringing that had settled deep in her ears. She forced herself to start forward again.

As she drew within a few feet of the building, her steps became irregular as her confidence wavered further. She stared at the ATM for a minute, cursing it silently for being the unwitting accomplice that had gotten her into this. She stepped down a little further, walking along the front of the building, until she reached the windows. She reached her gloved hand out and let her fingertips glide lightly along the glass as she walked. Eventually, she took a deep breath and leaned close, shielding her eyes from what little daylight was out on such a gloomy day.

The lobby was empty, of course. The bank was closed on Sundays. But it looked almost exactly as it had when she walked into it. She felt bile trying to rise in her throat momentarily, but she swallowed hard, forcing it to subside.

She felt her nerves begin to calm a little when Josh's hand came to her back as he leaned close to peer through the window beside her. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to breathe normally. She opened them again and took a second look.

The room wasn't exactly the same, she realized upon further investigation. The front of the teller counter looked different. A little…cleaner, and she could have sworn the countertop was beige before, not the gray she saw now. The walls seemed a little brighter, too. In the hours she'd spent huddled against the wall on the floor, she'd memorized every detail of the room. Little things were different. Why would they redecorate after the robbery? The answer seemed just out of her reach, just past where she could make her addled brain focus.

She moved a little further down, trying to see the far wall, where she'd been for most of the evening. She moved closer to the door and further from Josh as she did, but she was so into the moment that she was oblivious of anything but the lobby.

She gasped and jumped back when the door opened inches from her face. Josh stepped up behind her, putting one hand on her back, and the other just below her elbow to steady her. A security guard in his early 40s poked his head out the front entrance, hand poised subtly on his weapon. "Can I help you folks with something?"

"No," Josh said, answering for Donna, who stared, a little wide-eyed at the guard. "No, we didn't need anything. We were just…" he looked back at the windows, realizing it really wasn't simple to explain what they were doing. "We were just looking."

"There's really nothing to see here, sir," the guard said, a slight edge to his voice.

Josh realized he thought they were gawking. "No, I didn't…that wasn't what I…" he looked down at Donna, who still hadn't offered to answer. "What I meant was that we—"

"Bobby," a bespectacled man in a shirt and tie came up behind him, eyes fixed on Donna. "Bobby, it's OK. I'll take it from here."

The guard gave them a quick nod and stepped back into the lobby, pacing slowly, remaining within easy earshot of the door. The other man caught the door and stood over the threshold, looking closely at his two visitors. Finally, a gentle smile spread across his face. "It's Donna, isn't it?"

Donna nodded.

He extended his hand. "I don't think we were ever properly introduced. I'm Steve Williams. I'm the manager of this branch."

Donna shook his hand wordlessly, but seemed steady enough. The two men looked at each other. "Josh Lyman," he said, extending his hand.

"Nice to meet you," Mr. Williams said.

"They making you work away the weekend?"

Williams shrugged. "I just had some things to take care of before we opened for business again tomorrow." He looked back down at Donna, who'd taken to peering past him into the lobby. "Did you, um…did you want to maybe come in for a minute?"

Donna looked up at him and shook her head on reflex. "No, I…no, that's OK. We were just…" she trailed off again, looking past him into the empty room. "OK."

Josh bit back the admonition that nearly leapt from his throat. Instead, he reached down and clasped her hand as Mr. Williams stood back and held the door open and they stepped inside.

When he closed the door behind them and turned the key, Donna thought for a moment she would be physically ill. She closed her eyes and squeezed Josh's hand as tight as she could and when he squeezed back, it seemed to give her an additional dose of courage. She opened them again and took in the lobby.

She let go of Josh's hand and took a few steps into the room, toward the far wall. "It smells like paint," she said after a minute.

Mr. Williams nodded. "They've been doing some work this week. New coat of paint, new counter. You can see yourself in the floor."

Donna looked down and saw that it wasn't far from a literal truth. "Why would they—" The last pieces of the puzzle finally fell in place. "Oh. Bullet holes. Th-they must have been everywhere."

Mr. Williams nodded.

Donna looked at him for a moment, then turned and continued to slowly wander across the lobby.

Josh watched her carefully as she did, but stayed where she'd left him. "You were closed all week?" he asked Williams in a hushed tone. 

He nodded. "That wasn't the plan originally, but the police were digging bullets out of every imaginable surface for days. Then it all had to be fixed. Patch the holes in the walls and repaint, replace the teller counter."

Josh looked down. "The floor?"

Williams shook his head. "It's marble tile in here, and foundation beneath that," he said in a near whisper. "There was…there was some clean-up work, you know? Especially since everything had to stay as it was that night while the police were still documenting and investigating everything."

Josh blinked back the wave of nausea that threatened to embarrass him. He turned to Williams. "How're you doing?"

Williams, who was still watching Donna as she progressed across the lobby, cast a sidelong glance at him. "I'm fine," he said with a rueful smile. "I've spent my whole career working in banks. I'd long ago accepted the possibility, however remote, of something like this…"

Josh nodded, eyes flicking back toward Donna momentarily, who was absolutely engrossed in the details of the room.

"I mean, it wasn't the easiest weekend I've ever…you know."

"Yeah," Josh said.

"And I certainly hadn't ever accepted the possibility of losing an employee," he said softly.

"I'm sorry about that," Josh said. "I hear he was really something."

Mr. Williams nodded. "That he was. If he were here right now, he'd be blaming himself. She doing OK?"

Josh looked back at Donna, who'd taken up residence staring at the far wall from about 15 feet away.

"She's battling. And winning most of the time, I think. She's sure as hell kicking my ass."

Williams laughed softly. "I believe you. You know she got between the guy and one of my tellers at one point?" Josh nodded, and Williams shook his head. "I thought I'd seen everything when they herded me out of my office at gunpoint, but she turned around and showed me I was wrong. I'll be back in just a minute."

Williams clapped him on the shoulder and started for the back of the bank. Josh took a deep breath and crossed the lobby slowly. He tried to make a little noise as he came up behind Donna, who seemed sort of lost in thought as she stared at the floor.

"You OK?" he said.

She nodded.

Josh looked at the wall. "This is where you were?"

She nodded again. "Fred," she pointed at a spot on the floor. "Me, Patti. Mr. Williams was at the end. I don't remember what order everybody else was in." She turned her head and looked out the windows, seeing the blinds slide closed again in her mind's eye. She continued turning, taking the whole room in, the urge to speak building inside of her steadily. She wanted him to understand, wanted him to know what had happened here. To know on a deeper level than he seemed to now. "Bernard and the others set up camp here," she said, walking over toward the teller counter. "Because it was near a…" she stood on her tiptoes and looked over the teller counter, picking up the handset and holding it up so Josh could see. He nodded. She put it back on the counter and gestured to the windows. "The blinds were closed. You can see how Karim would be able to see it from his front counter." Josh turned and looked at the restaurant.

Donna took a few steps into the middle of the lobby, caught up in walking herself through the chronology of the night. "I must have been about here when they came through the front door," she said with a clinical detachment. "But then, the next thing I knew, I was here, I think. Or maybe it was this side." She stepped close to the large supports on either side of the door. "And then…Fred was here. Afterward." She walked over to the corner near the windows by the far wall. She took a beat, staring at the spot on the now shiny floor, seeing Fred's face as she'd seen it that night, seeing Josh's face as she'd seen it in her nightmares. She shook her head vigorously, causing the images to scatter. "And then we went out the back door over—"

She stopped short when she laid eyes on Josh again. He stood still, looking away from her, eyes squeezed tightly shut, head bowed, lips resting on his clenched fist. 

"Josh?" No response. She stepped closer to him, putting her hands on either side of his bent elbow. "Josh, come on. I didn't mean to—"

He moved suddenly, inhaling deeply, rubbing his nose with his hand. When he opened his eyes they were bright with tears he refused to shed. "Didn't mean to what?" he said, forcing a ghost of a grin.

She picked up on the almost imperceptible quiver in his voice. "Josh." She cocked her head at him.

"Didn't mean to what, Donna?" he put a hand on his hip and blinked, opening his eyes a little wider.

She stared him down, refusing to let him pretend that whatever she'd just seen hadn't happened. He kept it up for a few seconds before his facial expression broke and he reached out, pulling her into a deep hug. She wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around his back. She could feel his breathing become a little labored, as if he was fighting the tears she'd seen earlier. She ran a hand up and down his spine and he buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

"Didn't mean to upset you, is what I was going to say."

"You didn't," he said into her coat collar.

She hesitated for a second. "This isn't you upset?"

"You didn't upset me, Donna."

"I forget sometimes that for people who weren't there, the details can be a little overwhelming," she said apologetically.

"And I forget sometimes the details you have to live with," he said. He lifted his head, planting a tender kiss on her temple and hugging her head to his shoulder. "No more bank robberies for you, OK? In fact, no more incidents involving a SWAT team. Makes me nuts."

Her laugh was muffled by his coat. "I dan whiff whiddat."

He took her head by the ears and tilted it back. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said I can live with that," she smiled.

"Good," he smiled back. "`Cause you're gonna have to." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Hey, look at you, handling the major milestone like it's no big deal."

"Perhaps you missed the complete flake-out from a few minutes ago," she said sarcastically.

"Yeah, but you didn't cry like a little girl, unlike some people," he said.

"You did not cry like a little girl."

"A little bit, I think," he said. "Like a whiny little schoolgirl."

"I won't argue with the whiny part," she said.

"Come here," he whispered. She tilted forward and closed the inch or two that separated their lips and he kissed her gently. "You amaze me."

She leaned back and took another look around the room. "You know, I gotta admit. To be standing here right now, and feeling as...as OK as this...I'm pretty amazed myself."

"You have a very healthy sense of self-love, Donna. I like that about you."

Mr. Williams softly cleared his throat, bringing them both crashing back to the reality of where they were. "I thought you might like to see this," he said, holding a large piece of paper out to Donna.

She took it, studying the image closely. "What is this?" she asked softly.

"It's the proof for a plaque that's being made," Mr. Williams said. "Only it will have a laser engraved picture here," he pointed to a blank spot on the drawing. "The wording isn't finalized yet, but it will be on black granite, it will actually be a little larger than the drawing. It's a memorial for him."

"For here?" Donna looked up.

Mr. Williams nodded. "I figured it was the very least we could do and corporate agreed. I don't know, something just didn't seem right about..." he gestured at the room with his hand, "...carrying on like it never happened."

Donna nodded, running her hand over the paper.

"We'll do a ceremony of some sort in a few weeks," Mr. Williams said. "You're more than welcome to come back if..."

"I'll think about it," Donna said, and handed the paper back to him.

"Okay," he said. He unlocked the door for them. "Take care."

She took one last, long look at the lobby. "You, too."

Josh shook Mr. Williams' hand before ushering Donna out the door. "Thanks."

"Sure," he said. They stepped back outside and Mr. Williams shut the door and turned the key, pulling the door a few more times than necessary to check that it was secure.

Donna still stared through the glass. "Let's get outta here, Josh."

He turned to guide her back down the street. "Let's go."

"Oh..." she halted suddenly. "We forgot about lunch."

Josh squished his face up. "I'm not hungry."

"Me either, anymore."

A beat of silence passed between them. "You want to go anyway," Josh guessed.

"Uh huh."

"To prove a point?"

"To beat him," she said, an unfamiliar edge to her voice.

Josh exhaled slowly. All of a sudden he was exhausted. "Ahkay. Let's go."

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

"Food up!" Karim called as he placed two just-prepared plates on the counter. One of the waitresses retrieved them and headed to a table.

He turned when the bell over the door rang to greet his newest customers, but stopped cold in his tracks when he saw Josh and Donna. He stared at them for a moment, an amused smile playing across his face, before he stepped around the counter, wiping his hand on the towel he kept threaded through his belt.

He came toe to toe with Donna, who stood wordlessly, hands clasped in front of her. "Well..." he said finally. "Is it Sunday already?"

"That's what I'm told," Donna said slowly.

He rewarded her with his memorable smile and leaned forward, kissing her on both cheeks. "Welcome to Capitol Grille, Donnatella."

"Karim, I've been here, you know, a couple hundred times."

"I'm friendly," Karim deadpanned.

Donna couldn't help but laugh at that. "Fine."

"Josh," Karim said, extending his hand. "The Post informs me we're one step closer to a new teacher corps."

"To the funding for a new teacher corps," Josh said, the usual lilt gone from his voice after their earlier experience. "We've still gotta push it through the Senate."

"Have you done your headcount?" he asked, having long ago studied up on the procedure for pushing measures through Congress.

Josh nodded. "It'll sail. I'll be spending next week trying to widen the margin."

"It ought to be very wide," Karim said seriously. "There's nothing political about making college affordable and putting teachers in classrooms."

"You know, one of these days I'm gonna put you and the President in a room together and see who lasts longer," Josh said.

Karim smiled. "Have a seat anywhere you like. I'll send Lynne over to take your order." He watched them as they went, frowning a little as they passed over an empty booth near the front windows, where they usually sat, to head toward the back of the dining room. He looked out at the bank across the street, something he'd gotten in the habit of doing often in the last week. He shook his head sadly, then headed back to his griddle as another group of customers came in.

They settled into a booth on a side arm of the dining room that wrapped around the kitchen. They weren't among the seats with the better views, but that also meant the bank wasn't readily visible, which suited both Josh and Donna just fine. They dropped into the seats like weary travelers, and Donna's feet went almost immediately into the seat beside Josh.

He laid a hand on her shin. "You OK?"

She nodded, coughing into her hand. "That was excruciating."

"No kidding." He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

She nudged him with her feet. "Hey." He cracked his eyes open. "Thank you for that. For...for letting me do it. And for coming along."

He let his eyes slide closed again, but turned the corners of his mouth up and rubbed her shin a little. "Well, it turns out you were right. You were just fine."

Lynne appeared at that moment to take their order. Neither one of them had developed much of an appetite, but feeling like they should order something, they split a Capitol Sub platter and two cups of coffee.

"I don't feel fine," Donna said after Lynne had left the table. "I don't know whether I feel more tired or more crazy."

"You're more tired," Josh answered for her. "And do you know why? Because you didn't listen to me about the little scarf thing and now you're sick."

"Lay off, Josh."

"You hate it when I'm right."

"Fortunately, it doesn't happen that often."

Two cups of coffee were set in front of them, followed by the scratching of a chair as it was pulled up to the table backward. "So," Karim said as he straddled the chair at the end of the booth. "I just told Lynne she was losing her touch."

Josh squinted at him. "Why?"

"She came back and told me this table only ordered one meal. Which didn't make any sense to me, since I knew fully well there were two of you," Karim said.

"We really weren't that hungry," Donna said.

Karim propped his elbow on the back of the chair and dropped his chin into his hand. "You take a back booth, which I can understand," he cut her off before she had time to protest. "And the two of you walked in here looking like rejects from 'Night of the Living Dead.'"

Josh met Donna's eyes for a moment, silently seeking her permission to share the story. "We, uh, we just came from the bank."

Karim nodded thoughtfully. "And it wasn't the kind of experience that fills you with boundless energy and everlasting mirth."

Donna chortled loudly. "It was not."

Karim noticed Donna's feet beside Josh close to the wall, noticed the hand that unconsciously rubbed back and forth along her leg. "And you didn't come here because you were feeling quite social…" he prodded.

Donna rolled her head to the side to look at him, oblivious of the physical display that he had seen. "I'm taking my life back," she said dryly. "You can see how exciting and rejuvenating I find it to be."

"Maybe you need a new life," he said pointedly.

"Maybe you're my mother in disguise."

It was Josh's turn to chortle.

"I take it that wasn't a compliment?" Karim looked at him.

"Far from it," Josh said. "Seriously, we're...she's fine. She's OK. We're just not the hungriest we've ever been."

Karim pretended to consider this for a moment, then stood, putting the chair back in its place. "I will allow this aberration for one time only," he held up a finger to demonstrate. "And the next time you come in here, if you look like you've lost weight," he swung the finger down to point at Donna, "I will personally shove burgers down your throat until I'm satisfied that you've gained it all back."

Donna mock saluted. "Understood."

"Your meal will be out shortly," he said pleasantly, heading back toward the front of the store.

Josh pinched the leg of her corduroy pants playfully. "Everybody's got a piece of advice for you these days, don't they? Myself included."

"Karim's a mother hen," she said, leaning forward and turning the salt shaker on its side, as was her custom. "And everybody means well. It just gets a little old after a while."

"Yeah," Josh said.

Donna leaned forward. "Hey, tell me something honestly. Do I really look that bad?"

Josh smiled. "You don't look half as bad as I feel. And don't think it's all the time or anything, but between the bank just now and this thing you've caught, you look a little peaked."

Donna nodded, turning her attention back to the salt grains on the table. Josh clapped her on the knee and pulled himself up straight in the booth. "I'm gonna go see what desserts they have. That might make Karim happy for the moment."

"Don't say anything to him," she warned. "It's his way of showing he cares."

"I'm not," he said, walking backward down the aisle. "I'm browsing for baked goods, I'm not gonna do anything."

Karim dropped three Styrofoam boxes on the counter as Josh approached. "Sarah, take-out order's up!"

He turned back to his work just in time to see Josh swing his leg over a barstool on the side of the counter near the grill. "I'm supposed to be looking at desserts."

"Make her eat a piece of the red velvet," Karim said. "We've got some left over since Valentine's Day, and she likes it."

Josh propped his chin in his hand. "I'll see what I can do."

Karim was silent for a moment as he sautéed some vegetables for Josh and Donna's sandwich. "What I didn't mention before was that she already looks like she's lost weight," he said finally.

"She's eating, Karim, at least for the most part," Josh pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. "This is the exception, not the rule."

Karim scraped the chicken over to the vegetables on the griddle and tossed them together. "The two of you look terrible."

Josh jerked his eyes open. "Remind me again why I come here." 

"Because you find my blunt conversational style to be charming," Karim said confidently.

"Is that why?" Josh scrubbed his face with his hands, then turned his head and stared at the bank across the street. "I think she was more ready for that than I was."

Karim flipped the food expertly on the griddle, then dropped two slices of cheese on the meat and vegetables, watching as it melted.

"I told her I wasn't gonna go with her. I refused," Josh continued. "I was gonna do anything to keep her from going there. I was sure she couldn't handle it. And she stood there, in the middle of that room where it all happened, and she just…dealt with it. I came closer to flying apart than she did. As close as she came in that room to…Where do you suppose a person finds that kind of strength?"

Karim scooped the meat and vegetables into a bun and began making up a plate, pulling an order of onion rings out of the deep fryer. "You get it from all sorts of places," he said. "I think you really have it all along, but it stays buried until you need it. It stays buried until you're shot in the chest and you've gotta find a way to get yourself back to your normal life when at the moment, you can barely stay awake for an hour at a time." Josh raised his eyebrows in interest. "It stays buried until you decide that you don't want to run your father's shop for the rest of your life, and you leave and come to a country where you barely speak the language and don't know a soul because you want to be able to live your own life instead of your father's." He tapped himself lightly in the chest. "When you need strength, you find a way to get it. And if you have people who care about you, they'll oftentimes lend you theirs."

He arranged the sub on the plate expertly and turned to Josh. "Just don't lend her so much that you don't have enough left for yourself."

Josh balked. "What are you—"

"You're smitten," Karim said, smiling brightly.

"Smitten?" Josh echoed.

"With her," Karim nodded toward the back of the restaurant. "You are absolutely smitten. That's why you look like that."

Josh froze. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"I'm talking about, you've adored her for years, but you've never allowed yourself to think about it. There would be…issues, after all. But this madness," he gestured out the windows to the bank, "has caused you to go from adoring her to being smitten with her. I've seen this before, Josh. When Sheila's mother found out she was dating me, she was…unhappy, to say the least. It made Sheila miserable, being put between a rock and a hard place like that. But I was absolutely sick, my stomach was in knots, I didn't sleep. And I couldn't figure out why. I knew she loved me. I knew she wasn't going to leave me."

He leaned his elbows on the counter. "And the answer, of course, was that seeing her in pain caused me pain. I looked about like you do right now."

"Karim, I'm not-—"

"I've also seen it on her face," Karim nodded toward the back of the restaurant. "When she'd come in here while you were recuperating to pick up an order. The tiredness that was always in her eyes, the weariness in her voice. Whether she laughed or broke into tears when I asked about you depended entirely on how you were doing when she left you that morning to go to work for a few hours."

Josh stared at him, dumbstruck.

Karim picked the plate up off the counter and held it out to Josh. "Get your rest, see that she gets hers, and give some serious thought to taking your head out of your ass one of these days, huh?"

Josh swallowed hard. "Ahkay." He reached forward and took the plate. "Oh, by the way, she's coming down with a cold or something."

Karim's eyes opened wide. "I'll be by your table before you leave."

Josh smiled conspiratorially and headed back to the booth.

"He's making me carry my own food now," he said as he settled back into the seat. Donna looked up from the table, tears swimming in her eyes. Josh's heart hit the floor. "What?"

She shook her head frustratedly. "I just got to thinking about how much has changed since the last time we were here," she swatted at her cheeks angrily. "And all because of…" She breathed out, almost shaking with a barely contained fury. "You know, I can remember a time, long, long ago, when I could actually get through a day without crying."

"Donna—"

"I want him to pay, Josh," she said, her voice took on a low, edgy quality, barely sounding like herself. "I want them to pay for what they did."

"He'll pay for it, Donna."

"I mean, when you look at all the things from that night…that lobby… you'd never know anything happened there, would you?" she mused, then let out a short bark of a laugh. "Too bad they can't do the same thing with the people." Her left thumb went under the sleeve of her sweater and ran along her right wrist.

Josh nodded, a little alarmed by this sudden burst of anger. "Yeah."

"I just…I don't support the death penalty, you know that. But he ought to—" She stopped herself and took a deep breath, and when she spoke again she sounded a little more under control. "He's got to pay for what he's done."

"Hey, what I have been telling you all this time?"

She looked up. "That he will."

Josh nodded. "And have I ever lied to you?"

"Yes."

"About stuff like this?"

"No."

"Alright then." He pushed the plate toward her. "Eat. Then I'm taking you home and putting you to bed. This cold's making you cranky."

She fought a smile. "I'm not sick."

"Fine then, you need a nap like a two-year-old who gets unruly for no good reason. Eat."

Donna reached for the plate and stuffed an onion ring in her mouth, but kept a defiant look on her face.

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

They only picked at their meal, each encouraging the other to force as much as they could down to avoid the wrath of Karim. Once they thought they'd made enough of a dent to satisfy him, they let each other off the hook. They'd barely leaned back in their seats when Lynne came by, setting a piece of red velvet cake on the table between them. Donna looked up. "We didn't—"

"Just eat it," Lynne said sympathetically. "You know nothing else will get him off your back." She dropped a fork in front of each of them, warmed up their coffees and left with an apologetic smile.

Between the two of them, they'd finished the cake, finding it sat better on their somewhat queasy stomachs. Donna took the last bite just as Karim came out the back door from the kitchen. "Are you happy?" she mumbled with her mouth full.

"Almost," Karim said, as he set a white paper bag on the table in front of Donna. "Reheat it on the stovetop slowly, stirring occasionally. It should keep for a couple of days, and there's plenty, so you should have a couple bowls a day for a couple of days."

Donna opened the bag and peeked in. "Your chicken soup!" she drawled.

"You're all stuffy," Karim said. "Vitamin C, plenty of rest and Karim's chicken soup."

"Gotcha," Donna said. "Come here."

She stood on her knees in the booth and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you."

Karim hugged her back momentarily, before pushing her away. "You're getting your germs all over me," he groused.

Donna smiled. "We're outta here."

"See you next Sunday," he called as she headed toward the front of the restaurant. Josh took a moment to exchange looks with Karim as he shrugged into his coat. "Head out of your ass," Karim said quietly.

If only he knew. "I'm trying," Josh said.

Karim clapped him on the shoulder and headed back into the kitchen.

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

They'd walked back to the White House, crossing further down the block this time, Donna's cough increasing steadily along the way. She'd insisted they take both their cars out of staff parking, and Josh parked a couple blocks away and walked to her place, catching up to her on the stairs.

He took the soup out of her hands. "Go change, if that's what you're gonna do, and lie down, Grumpy. I'll bring you some cold medicine in a minute."

She pouted momentarily, but dropped her coat on the chair and went to the bedroom wordlessly.

He came in with a couple of Nyquil caplets a few minutes later and she took them after reasserting, once again, that she was not sick. She'd stayed in her clothes, but kicked her shoes off and snuggled down under her favorite throw.

"Are you gonna stay again tonight?"

"If you want me to," he said, trying to act as if he didn't care either way.

She nodded. "If you want to."

He grinned. "Ahkay." He stood at the foot of the bed. "You need anything?"

She pointed to the chair. "I want Jack." She sounded like a kid with the stuffiness that was settling in her head. Josh tossed her the donkey and headed for the door. "Wait a minute, where are you going?"

"I was just gonna check my e-mail, do a little work," Josh jutted his thumb toward the living room.

"Josh," she whined. "I wanted you, too."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Donna, that is not conducive to the tabling. And anyway, you're gonna be out cold in 10 minutes with that Nyquil."

"I'm not you," she pouted. "And I never would have agreed to this if I had thought I'd be all alone."

He smiled. "You've got Jack."

"Jack doesn't kiss me like you do."

He swiped a hand across his eyes. "Donnaaaaa..."

"We've been very good today, Josh," she said, an impish look crossing her face.

"We have," he agreed.

"And I just want you to stay until I fall asleep. So I don't get bored. You can go check your e-mail after that if you want to."

His resolve was wearing dangerously thin. "We said we were going to keep things on the straight and narrow."

She propped herself up on her elbows. "There's always Rule Number One."

He launched himself toward the bed, crawling up her toward the pillow. She laughed in delight until she saw he was about to break one of her own cardinal rules. "Shoes!" she admonished.

He toed them off and dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her hungrily. "You have...a ridiculous...aversion...to shoes...on the bed," he said between kisses.

"It's not ridiculous," she breathed, snaking her fingers into his hair and causing him to moan. "I'm germ conscious."

"You don't think the germs can crawl from your shoes to your socks to your legs?" he said, kissing his way across her cheek to her ear. "Or for that matter, from the soles of your shoes, to the carpet and then anywhere they want?" Donna froze. Oh, hell.

"I was kidding," he said. "I was kidding, they can't do that."

"How do you know they can't do that?"

"They're too small," he said, planting a kiss behind her ear. "They'd die before they get there."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you don't want them to be, Donna," he said patronizingly. "Your house is 100 percent germ-free. I'm sure of it."

She pulled his earlobe between her teeth as a reward. "Your...your ah..." he had to fight to concentrate when she did that thing to his neck. "Your body, however, is another story right now, thanks to the cold."

"Doesn't seem to bother you," she mumbled against his skin.

"No," he ground out between clenched teeth. "No, I don't have a germ phobia."

"Lucky for me," she said, letting her head drop back to the pillow and kissing his throat.

"Mmm hmm," Josh changed positions and started kissing his way down her neck again, slowly. She whimpered in pleasure for a few minutes, then trailed off. "I know," Josh thought he sensed a hesitance from her. "Table. I'm not going any lower than the neck, I promise." When he still didn't get a response from her, he stopped kissing her and looked up. "Donna?"

She was dozing lightly, a gentle smile gracing her face. Josh couldn't help but laugh. "Well, this is a first for me, Donna," he whispered. "I'll try not to take it personally." He leaned forward, placed a light kiss on her forehead, brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and gently rolled off the bed, leaving Donna to her nap.