Author's Note: I'm not even going to say how I came up with this, because quite frankly, it's kind of embarrassing and weird and just... yes. And I know it might be odd to see Josh and Donna engaged already (especially because it's a bit non-canon), but I couldn't help it. They've been in love for years and I just... I didn't think they should wait, haha. Enjoy! Reviews are Josh in his Tuesday suit.

Disclaimer: I wish I was Aaron Sorkin, but sadly I am not. Tears fall every day.

Every now and then, there are moments. Small, but nonetheless moving moments; ones that otherwise make time stop for just a few seconds, reminding them both just how lucky, unbelievably lucky, they are.

One of them happens on a Tuesday evening, both of them sitting in their apartment working on their own agendas. It had been a year since President Santos had been sworn into office, six months since they've moved in together, and three since Josh proposed and Donna said yes. Every thing had seemed to fall into place.

Josh is sitting on the couch, on the phone with Sam discussing strategies to secure some key votes for a bill that had a vote coming up next week. It was a particularly difficult task, as they had been working on this bill for a few weeks now and already had blocked countless additions and attachments from various congressmen. It seemed to be a vicious game of pushing and shoving, pulling and blocking, and to be frank, it often put Josh in a mood before returning home during the evenings.

There was one night he came home the previous week, a bit more on edge than usual; he began pulling out drawers in their kitchen with so much force that one actually flew out of its slot, sending Josh torpedoing back into the counter. In the process he managed to knock Donna's cell phone in the sink, landing in a cup full of water. With a quick glare from Donna, he apologized profusely, going to the phone store himself to get her a new one. However, when he came home later that night sporting her new phone, she was less than pleased when he told her that they had changed her number.

"Just send out a mass email," he had said. "Do it all in one shot; that way you won't have to call everyone individually."

Sure, Josh, she had thought. He made it sound so easy. She had already missed three important calls, a meeting due to a time change she wasn't able to be informed of, and it seemed Josh himself had trouble memorizing the new number. He had recently resorted to actually walking to the East Wing sometimes, just because he wasn't in his office or didn't have his cell phone with her new number at the ready when he realized he needed to speak to her.

She sometimes questioned why she was so in love with him.

Donna sighs as she looks down at her notes, sitting at the kitchen island. She had been working to perfect the First Lady's agenda for the next few weeks, outlining key issues and specific movements that were to be highlighted; post it notes and paper clipped pages of information littering the island. Other items included important meetings and conference calls for the next day – also a list of things that needed attention for the next hour – her work load seemingly endless. But I wouldn't have it any other way, Donna thinks wistfully.

It isn't easy being a chief of staff for anything; these two individuals being prime examples.

It is about ten after nine when her cell phone rings, startling her. She weeds through papers for a few seconds before she finally finds it, pushing the green key quickly. "Hello?"

There is silence on the other line, though Donna thinks she heard a quick in-take of breath. She tries again. "Hello?"

"Um – I'm sorry, who is this?"

Donna's brow crinkles. "Donna Moss," she says. "Who is this?"

"My name is Cara, but – I'm sorry, I just – did I call the right number?"

"Who are you looking for?" Donna asks, now intrigued. She hadn't gotten many wrong number calls – in fact, she had none.

There is a pause on the other line. "Well, you see – can you actually just tell me what number this is? I must have dialed wrong or something."

Donna recites her new cell phone number, certain that this woman wasn't calling for her. She didn't know anyone named Cara, nor had she been expecting any calls from one. She hadn't heard that name in politics at all, now that she thinks about it.

"Oh," Cara breathes into the phone. "I guess they… I guess they changed it," she mumbles, and though she doesn't know why, Donna's now pressing the phone deeper into her ear to hear well. Who was this woman?

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you… is this number new for you?" asks Cara.

Donna bites her lip, now nervous for some reason. "Yes… I just got it a few days ago, actually. Was this someone else's number?"

Again, there is a brief pause. "Yes," Cara answers, her voice quiet and soft. "An old friend of mine. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Donna had always been a compassionate woman, and the way this Cara woman's voice sounded – so quiet and just sad– had Donna itching not to let her hang up. "You didn't," Donna says quickly. "It's really – don't worry about it. My fiancé had tossed my phone in water the other day and I had to get a new one… and then somehow he came home with a new number for me," she explains with a slight laugh, hoping to insert a little humor in their short conversation.

"That was nice of him," Cara replies, and Donna can't tell if she is just being polite or genuinely means it. Donna wonders what the hell she's doing.

"Maybe…" she finds herself trailing off, wondering if she should say what she had planned in her head. After a few seconds of silence, she bites the bullet. "Maybe I could contact the company and see if I could get the person's new number for you? I'm sure they might be able to tell me something -"

Cara's voice cuts through the phone quickly. "No," she quips. "No, it's okay. They won't be able to find it. Thank you for your concern."

"Are you sure? You could just tell me the name, actually, because I work at the White House and I'm sure I'd be able –"

"Really," Cara interrupts, her voice cool and chilly now. "It's not – "

"It wouldn't be hard," Donna continues, oblivious to Cara's tone. "I'm sure there would be something –"

"He's dead, Miss – Moss, was it? The person I'm calling for is dead. You won't be able to find his new number," Cara snaps, immediately making Donna stop.

Donna blinks. "I'm sorry?"

Cara sniffs loudly, sounding as if she had been crying. Donna feels slightly like an idiot, now for reasons more than one. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "The person I'm calling is recently dead, but up until a few days ago I'd call his cell phone and it would play his voicemail message and…" she trails off, sniffles loud and now taking over the receiver.

Oh, God, Donna thinks, closing her eyes. She'd been so stupid – who was she, anyway, to offer her powers at the White House to a random stranger? What the hell had she been thinking? Now she landed a poor woman confessing how her friend was dead to someone she didn't even know personally, and what was worse, Donna had taken his old number. She finds herself thinking that maybe if she'd gone to the store instead of Josh, they wouldn't have changed it. Maybe she would've developed a sixth sense and asked for a different number, or not taken one at all. Donna swears she would have.

"Cara, I… I'm so sorry, I – I didn't mean –"

Cara doesn't miss a beat. "There's absolutely no way you could've known. And it's not your fault at all; they were going to give his number to someone eventually. I was a fool to think otherwise."

"No," Donna disagrees. "You're not. I… I understand. I couldn't even – imagine –"

"Well, again, I'm sorry to have bothered you," Cara interrupts again, her voice a bit stronger now. "I promise I won't call again."

Donna feels a pang of sympathy for Cara. "Listen, if you ever… I don't know, want to talk – my name is Donna Moss, by the way – I mean, I know we don't know each other but sometimes that's better –"

"You're sweet, Donna Moss," says Cara, but again, Donna can't tell if she actually means it. "But I'll be okay. It's just small, momentary moments of weakness, that's all. I won't be calling again. Have a good night."

And then there's dial tone.

Donna lets the phone drop from hear ear, staring at it as she puts it back on the counter.

"Who was that?" Josh asks from the couch, tossing his own paperwork on the table and stretching. He gets up and walks over to where she's sitting, standing behind her and placing his head on her shoulder.

Donna spins around on her stool so that she's facing him. "It was a woman. Her name was Cara, and she called my phone because the new number I have was someone else's."

Josh raises his eyebrows. "And so you just decided to have a five minute conversation with her?"

"She sounded so upset and sad and I just – the person she was trying to call is dead, Josh."

"She was trying to call a dead person?"

"No. She called his number because she wanted to hear his voice on the answering machine. She called because the only shred of him left that's actually tangible is that small, insignificant automated voicemail message he recorded and for a few seconds, she wanted to remember him," Donna explains, her heart tugging.

Josh's face softens and he reaches out to pull her into an embrace. "Donna."

"I know," she mumbles into his shirt, wrapping her arms around his back and squeezing tightly. "It just – you don't think about these things until they're staring you in the face, and I couldn't help but think if I were ever in that situation, I would've done the same –"

"Donna," he says again, this time firmly. He pulls away and sets his hands on her shoulders, looking directly at her. "You won't ever be put in that situation, okay? And neither will I. We're both here, and you better believe I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

Donna lets out a breath before nodding. She then gives him a brief smile, reaching out her arms again and pulling him in for another hug. This time she holds on even tighter, her grip never slacking. He sighs into her hair as he closes his eyes, and as in-tune as they've been for years, they're both certain they're thinking and feeling the same thing.

It's here that Donna decides that their photo should be in the dictionary next to the word 'lucky.' Because after ten years, all filled with tragedy and hardships and life altering moments, lucky is everything that defines them. Lucky that she finally took the plunge and left Wisconsin, lucky that Josh believed in her enough to make her his assistant, lucky enough that Josh survived Rosslyn and Donna Gaza, lucky that she had enough courage to leave the White House and made Josh elect quite possibly one of the country's best presidents. They were lucky that they found everything that they had in each other, from long nights in the office to their playful banter on a day to day basis; through controlling ex-girlfriends with hidden political agendas, to coward military leaders and Republican lawyers.

Donna swears she's never going to be ungrateful, or forget. There's too much already lost for that.

Lucky, lucky, lucky.