OOC: This one is written by Jodi.

            I glanced toward my mother momentarily, and then turned my attention back to the buildings moving by. Or rather, the buildings that weren't moving by, because were stuck in traffic on 14th street. I had told mom time and time again that today was probably not the best day to go by 14th street, but mom was probably not that inclined to listen to me at the moment. I took a deep breath and began, once again, "You know, it does kind of diminish-"

            "Oh God!" cried my mother, not your very devout Christian. This is the woman who insisted I be raised a Christian, but breaks the second commandment all the time. I probably wouldn't know what the second commandant was if my dad hadn't told me. "Are you still upset about that?"

            "I'm not upset, I'm just making a point."

            "Well, my top concern is not about whether or not the map in your textbook diminishes third world countries. You might say that I would if we lived in a third world country, but if we lived in a third world country I would be more concerned about getting food for you."

            "You mean, getting food for you, " I muttered.

            "Elizabeth Joan Lyman!" she cried. And that was that. End of conversation. If my mom just says my name in an exasperated tone, it means 'shut up' in a nice way. My mom named me after Elizabeth Cady Stanton, like a good feminist would. I'm lucky to have walked away with my dad's last name. We finally moved along passed the group of 'tourists', as my dad calls them. Mom glares at them. "God," she muttered, annoyed.

            "Well, I did say they'd be there." I reminded her. She gave me a look that said. 'Right now is not the time to make me mad.'

            We finally pulled up to my dad's Georgetown apartment. My parents have been divorced for three years, since I was eleven. My dad opened the door and cheerfully told us, "You're late-is it Total Crackpot Day again?"

            "Yep," I replied in the same cheerful manner.

            "Bye, honey. See you in a week," my mom told me in her slightly heartless manner. She's not mean; she just has always been that way, according to my dad. Only God knows why he married her, but I should be grateful, 'cause otherwise probably I wouldn't exist.

            "Bye, Mom," I chirped as she left.

            Dad turned to me. "So…what do you want for dinner?" I raised my eyebrow as if to say, 'do you really have to ask?' We have had the same dinner every other Friday night for three years: pizza. Dad grinned. "Ok, I'll order it." He went over to the phone and picked it up and dialed the number. I don't know how he found the pizza place, because its tiny, but he says he found it when he used to work at the White House. He worked for President Bartlet about fifteen years ago, before he married my mom and before I was born.

            Dad must have been put on hold, because he did what I call his 'holding dance', meaning that he starts pacing up and down the room muttering, "I'm holding. I'm in some hellish hold world of holding." It's actually kind of amusing, but I guess you have to be there. Dad turned around and called "Liz?"

            "Yeah?" I replied, going into the kitchen.

            "You going to get started on your homework?"

            I put on my pouting face, which works a lot. Not all the time, but a lot. "Do I have to?"

            "Well, Uncle Sam's coming over tomorrow and he's staying in town for the weekend, so if you want to spend time with him, you should get your homework done."

            I scowled momentarily. Obviously, now was not one of the times when my pouting face worked, but my dad also had a good argument. But, I was cheered by the fact that Uncle Sam was coming to visit. He used to work with Dad at the White House. They used to know each other before that, but they became good friends there. Now he's a corporate attorney who just made partner in a firm in New York. He's my godfather and I really like it when he comes to visit. He didn't seem very surprised when my parents divorced.

            So I headed to my room and did my homework. I came out when the pizza came, telling Dad the usual stuff, what I had done in the past week. Friday night dinner is 'my time', when he listens to me and my week, only telling me about his week when I'm done and when I actually want to know about it. I returned to my room and finished my homework before going online and talking to my friends Tammy, Elise, and Natalie. I went to bed at around 11:00.

            The next morning I woke up at around 9:30. I don't usually sleep past 10:00. I just don't have the ability. My dad was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper, and he greeted me the way he always does when I sleep past 7:00: "Good afternoon."

            I scowled at him. "When's Uncle Sam coming?"

            "Around noon. We're gonna go out to lunch with him, then he's got a meeting at two."

            "Ok."

            True to his world, Uncle Sam arrived at noon, sharp. I grinned as I raced out of my room and my godfather swept me up in a hug. "Hey, kiddo."

            "Hi," I replied with a grin. "I thought most partners stay at their firms a lot," I teased. Uncle Sam had been complaining about that while he was lobbying for partnership.

            "Yeah, but whenever partners do have to go on trips, its usually the junior partners that go."

            "Hey Sam." Dad came out and gave his friend one of those 'guy hugs' where they kind of slap each other on the back. "Glad you could fit us into your busy schedule," he joked.

            "No problem," Sam replied. "I made a reservation at Capital Grille."

            Dad whirled around. "Capital Grille?"

            Sam shrugged. "It was all I could get on such short notice. You know all the big politicians are having important lunches at all the other places"

            Dad looked angry. "You had to pick Capital Grille?"

            "I told you-"

            "I know," Dad sighed. "But still…"

            Deciding to break the silence, I piped up, "I like Capital Grille."

            Uncle Sam looked at Dad. "See, if you can take Liz there, then you've got to be over it."

            But Dad was too busy looking at me. "When did I take you to Capital Grille?" he asked.

            "You didn't. Mom took me."

            "Oh."

            "Isn't that kind of insensitive of Amy?" Sam asked. Amy is my mom's name.

            I spoke up again, this time with a question. "Why would it be insensitive?"

            "No reason," my dad replied quickly. "It's a great place. Let's go to Capital Grille."

            So there we were, in Capital Grille, twenty minutes later. Dad looked slightly uncomfortable, but he was trying to be very conversational. I wondered if Uncle Sam noticed.

            "So you know Amy and Liz got stuck in traffic yesterday because of the protesters."

            Sam grinned. "You mean the tourists."

            "Why do you call them tourists, anyway?" I asked.

            "One of our co-workers called them that." Sam told me. "He said people knew how to protest when he was a kid. Of course, they were protesting the Vietnam War, but…"

            "That's where I get 'Total Crackpot Day' from," Dad told me. "Our boss made us meet with a bunch of organizations that we considered 'crackpots' once a year. One year Toby had to meet with the protesters. One of the other organizations that year was the National Cartographers for Social Equality."

            "She knows about the NCSE?" Sam asked.

            "I've been ranting to Mom about it ever since Aunt CJ told me about it." Aunt CJ is the only other member of the Bartlet White House staff I've met, except for Mr. McGarry, who always says to call him 'Leo' but I never do; I haven't met him enough times to call him by his first name.

            Uncle Sam chuckled.

            "And Toby was the guy who called them tourists?" I asked.

            "Yep, and he had to have a meeting with them. Isn't that where you got hit with the banana?" Uncle Sam asked Dad, who grinned. I was having fun. My dad doesn't talk about his days in the White House very much, especially not any of the details of when he got shot. I don't think it was as traumatic for him as it could have been, considering he kept working there for about six more years. The way he talks, he met the President about once a year, which is kind of unrealistic when you're talking about the White House deputy chief of staff. I think he's trying to forget those years, but I really don't know why.

            "Have you talked to Toby recently?" Dad's voice snapped my back to reality.

            Uncle Sam replied. "Yeah, I was down there last week."

            "Really?"

            "Yup." Uncle Sam answered. He turned to me, "He lives in California. His daughter, Cady, is about your age. His wife died some years ago." I just nodded. "So how's school going, anyway?" Uncle Sam asked. Darn, there went the interesting old stories.

            "It's ok," I replied. "I'm supposed to go to an adult's office on Monday and do a report on what goes on there." I shot my dad a pointed look.

            He looked apologetic. "I know, I'm working on it." He answered Uncle Sam's questioning look with "I have an all-day private meeting with Matt Skinner, and Amy's in Ohio."

            "Why don't you ask Donna? You two used to be so close." Uncle Sam suggested.

            Dad looked at Uncle Sam sharply. I blinked. My dad close with a woman? That was very unlike him. He hasn't dated at all since my parents divorced. My mom's dated some, but it's hard to imagine Dad close with a woman.

Uncle Sam shrugged. "Well, she probably hasn't seen Liz since she was a baby." Dad continued to glare at him. "Or, I could call and ask her for you." Whoa, Uncle Sam offering to call her for Dad. Wow. What was going on here?

Dad looked at me. I gave him my most hopeful look. He sighed and looked at Uncle Sam. "Would you? That'd be great. She works for Bill Gorman, right?"

Uncle Sam shook his head. "She quit eight years ago. Now she works as a financial officer for Kilbert and Company. Haven't you talked to her at all?" The glare Dad gave Uncle Sam said 'no.'

Dad turned to me. "Ok, that should be fun, right? I don't know where else you could go."

"Who's Donna?" I asked.

Dad sighed. "Someone who used to work with us in the White House."

"Really?" I asked with a grin. Now that should be fun.

"Yeah, she was my assistant."

Dad seemed more aggravated at the memory, but I was oblivious. "So does she know any amusing stories about you that I could tease you about?"

"No," Dad replied sharply. He got up. "I'm gonna go to the restroom."

I turned to Uncle Sam once he was gone. "So what's the deal with this Donna?" I asked.

Uncle Sam replied, "they were really good friends and everyone could tell that there was something else going on, but the two of them were totally oblivious. I swear, he ended up with your mom only because things ended badly between him and Donna."

I blinked. Wow. "So, was it his fault?"

"A little." I gave him a look and he relented. "Yeah. It was one of the stupidest mistakes I've ever seen him make, and he's made quite a few of them over the years."

I sighed. "Did they ever actually go out?"

Uncle Sam looked at me. "Not in the sense you're thinking of." I must have looked pretty puzzled. "She pushed him towards other women. He sabotaged all her dates. She was worried sick when he was shot." I shuddered, like I always do when someone mentions it. It's hard to imagine your father being shot. I mean, I've seen his scars and everything, but still. Uncle Sam went on, "He went into meltdown when she temporarily stopped working for him to go back to her boyfriend. She practically nursed him back to health and she was there for him when he was diagnosed…never mind. They had the closest relationship any of us had with our assistants. We all had bets on when the two of them were going to act on their feelings. Then, something happened. I'm not sure what, but it was pretty big. Happened near the end of the second term. I think an event that happened here contributed to it. Probably why Josh wasn't all that enthusiastic about going here."

Wow. This was a lot to digest. Dad returned from the restroom and we said good-bye to Uncle Sam and went home. I was quiet most of the drive. I had a lot to think about.

On Monday morning Dad was driving me to Donna's office. He was visibly nervous.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied and gave me an all too cheerful look, even for him.

I leaned back in my seat. I had a feeling this was going to be a long day. My dad was usually overconfident and sometimes arrogant, not under-confident and nervous.

We pulled up to the building and went inside. Dad stopped at the reception desk. "I'm looking for Donna Moss' office."

"Are you Mr. Lyman?" she asked very nicely.

"Yes."

"Ok. Go right down to the end of that hall to the right. It's right there. She's expecting you."

So we went down the hall to the right. There was an office door with 'Donnatella Moss' written on the outside. The door was open and Josh knocked quietly on the frame. "Donna?" he asked softly.

A blond women typing at the computer looked up. "Joshua," she said simply.

"Hi," Dad said.

"Hi."

I cleared my throat. Dad looked at me, remembered what he was here for, and quickly ushered me into office. "This is Liz."

Donna stood up and smiled for the first time. "Hi, Liz. I'm Donna Moss."

She offered her hand, and I shook it. "Liz Lyman." Donna cocked her head slightly when I said 'Lyman.'

Then Donna turned back to Dad. "Sam called me."

Dad looked even more uncomfortable. "Yeah, I was pretty busy." Ok, now that was an outright lie. He continued, "I've got a doctor's appointment, so is it ok if a pick her up at around 4:30?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Ok," Dad replied softly. He had been speaking very softly, almost gently, which was also very unlike him. He turned to me. "Ok, be good and don't bug Donna too much, ok?"

I nodded. "Ok."

He nodded to Donna, "Bye," and then fled.

Donna turned to me. "Just wondering, are you more like your mom or your dad."

I paused. "Well, my mom says I'm more like my dad."

Donna grinned. "This is gonna be fun." I grinned too.

A few hours later, there was nothing to do, so Donna and I were doing some girl bonding. "So, why did your parents name you Elizabeth?"

"My mom named me after Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and my dad liked Liz, so he went along with it."

Donna smiled. "What's your middle name?"

"Joan."

Donna looked surprised. "After Josh's sister?"

"Yeah, Joanie. She died-"

"In a fire when he was five," Donna finished.

I nodded, surprised that she knew the story. Dad doesn't like to talk about it much.

"So where in DC do you guys live?"

"Dad lives in Georgetown, Mom lives in Bethesda. I go back and forth each week."

Donna looked at me in genuine surprise. "They're divorced?"

I was surprised she didn't know. "Yeah. They have been for three years." I couldn't read the expression on her face. The silence that followed was uncomfortable. "Uncle Sam said you were Dad's assistant."

She grinned. "Yeah, I was. It was kind of a weird relationship." She quickly changed the subject. "You know Sam?"

"Yeah, he's my godfather. We had lunch with him on Friday."

"Have you met anyone else Josh used work with?"

"I've met Aunt CJ and Mr. McGarry."

Donna smiled. "I bet he's not to wild about you calling him that." I looked at her in surprise. "Oh yeah, he made everyone call him Leo, right down to the lowest junior staffer." She paused, and then went on, "so you never met the president- I mean, Jed?"

I shook my head, and Donna correctly interpreted the look on my face. "He hated it when we called him 'Mr. President' after he left office. He started getting his grandkids to call him 'Grandpa President' to get us to stop."

I laughed. "That's the kind of thing my dad would do." Donna nodded in agreement.

Right before my dad was due to pick me up, Donna wrote something on a piece of paper and gave it to me. "Here's my email address, in case your dad won't go into details on a story, or you want any more embarrassing stories about him." I grinned my thanks. The phone rang and Donna answered it, and put it down a minute later, telling me my dad was here. We went to the reception desk to meet him.

He smiled at me, then got back into his nervous mode when he turned to Donna. "How was she?"

Donna grinned at me. "Oh, she's just like you in the office."

Dad blinked, then turned back to me. "What do you say?"

"Thanks, Donna," I told her with a smile.

"You're welcome," She replied. "And remember what I said."

"I will," I answered.

In the car on the way home I decided two things. The first was that I liked Donna Moss. She was nice, funny, efficient, smart, and I could see why she and Dad got along pretty well, at least before. The second was something I was going to do. It was going to take a lot of planning, a lot of work, a lot of help, and a lot of luck. Maybe I could get Uncle Sam or Aunt CJ in on it. The second thing I decided was that I was going to get Dad and Donna back together.