Josh slipped the key into the familiar lock and quietly opened the door, stepping into the warm home. He stood in the dimly lit foyer and dropped his backpack, removing his coat and scarf, dusting a bit of snow out of his hair.

He tried to tiptoe towards the staircase, deliberately stepping over the squeaky floorboard in the entryway.

"Son."

The simple utterance made him jump.

"Hey, Dad," Josh smiled at the older man, perched at the table in the corner of the kitchen, making his way over to join him.

Noah Lyman stood to greet his son, wrapping him in a strong embrace.

"It's past midnight what are you doing up?" Josh intended to quietly let himself in to his parents home and catch up with them in the morning. Rarely did he get a minute to himself these days, so when the opportunity presented itself for even just a few hours with his family, Josh took it.

"I had something on my mind," Noah hedged. He could read Josh better than anyone, even his mother.

"Oh? Care to discuss it?"

"Actually, I would. Sit down, I'll pour you a drink." Noah made quiet work of grabbing a glass for Josh, pouring him a scotch, neat.

Josh wiggled a bit under the intensity of his father's gaze.

"Anything you'd like to tell me, Joshua?"

Suddenly Josh felt like he was 8 years old again, in trouble for breaking a lamp in the living room while pretending to hit a home run for the Mets.

"Um, no?" It came out less than confident but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what his father was getting at.

Noah just raised his eyebrows a bit skeptically, watching his son closely.

"You came to visit us a few months ago, you know, before you quit your job to run a dark horse campaign."

"I thought you liked Governor Bartlet," Josh interjected, his previous train of though quickly derailed.

Noah held up a hand to silence his overly eager son. "I do. I was just surprised you left Hoynes, that's all. Surprised, but not at all displeased. But when you came for the weekend you told us you'd been on vacation somewhere in the Caribbean and to say your mother and I were shocked, well, that's an understatement. But you seemed... different."

Josh gulped.

"You're sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"

Josh furrowed his brow in thought, but eventually shook his head to indicate no, wishing his father would make his point.

Noah Lyman gently reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a letter. "This came for you in the mail today," he said hesitantly as he slid it across the table.

Josh picked up the envelope, which had already already been opened and began to reach inside of it. He'd had his mail forwarded to his parents house when he moved to New Hampshire for the campaign so it wouldn't pile up in his DC apartment.

Pulling out a folded sheet of paper, he recognized immediately the fancy blue logo embossed on the top as belonging to the hotel where he and Donna stayed in St. Thomas.

"You opened it," Josh wondered aloud, as his parents rarely paid attention to the mail received at their residence, stacking it neatly on the dresser in his childhood bedroom.

"Well, I thought it was mine." Noah sat back and crossed his arms, watching.

Josh casually flipped the envelope over and felt a gentile smile cross his lips. The letter was addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Lyman. He allowed the warmth to briefly spread through him at the thought of her before he cleared his throat and composed himself.

"It's nothing," he waived his father off. "It was a joke."

"A joke?"

"Yeah. See, Donna was buying this hat and-"

"Slow down," Noah requested. "Start at the beginning and tell me how you met this woman."

"Donnatella," Josh corrected, his eyes looking up to meet the older man's. "Her name was Donnatella."

OooooooooooO

Josh lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. He thought after brutal weeks of late nights, jumping from hotel to hotel, campaign stress and some fairly major life changes he'd actually just fall into a slumber the minute his head hit the pillow. He couldn't have been more wrong.

The conversation he'd had with his father had dragged on and on, Josh actually relenting and opening up about the reality of what happened on his trip. Around the bottom of his second glass of scotch he'd told his father he thought he loved her. Midway through the third glass he became choked up, admitting that he was realizing more and more that he'd likely never see her again.

Noah Lyman couldn't believe the depth of emotion he'd seen on his son's face. "Go get her," he'd told Josh. "Find a way. I wouldn't stop for anything if I had to find your mother."

But Josh didn't even know where to begin. He'd made about a million calls to wrong numbers in Madison, trying the hospitals, looking for a nurse named Donnatella. He tried the UW School of Nursing for alumni information. He'd even tried for information from their hotel. All were dead ends. He had a first name and a few snapshots of them, taken in passing on a disposable camera. He'd had them developed and they currently sat tucked securely into his nightstand drawer in DC.

He grinned at the thought of her- of one photo in particular. She'd been smiling wholeheartedly at the camera, her arms around him, eyes bright and happy. Josh was smiling softly at her, his face nestling closely into her as he whispered something into her ear. He'd been shocked to see himself in the photo- to see how happy and relaxed he looked, and to remember how complete she made him feel.

It was complex, this thing that had bloomed between them. He thought this would fade- that it was a passing phase, and eventually he'd forget all about that week- but it just wasn't so. He kept thinking of her- he thought about how his mother would love her immediately and his father would most certainly feel the same way. He thought about her while he questioning his commitment to Hoynes upon his return to work, and how she just wasn't sold on the Senator from Texas. He thought about her when he accepted the job with Bartlet's campaign, and how she would approve of such a good man. He thought of her at the sight of a rim drink, a blonde head of hair, a flight of stairs. He never stopped thinking about her.

He sighed out loud to the empty room.

"Where are you, Donnatella?"