It was almost midnight Thursday when Sam barged into Josh's office.

Josh looked up from his pile of papers. "What?" he snapped.

"You're not staying here all night, are you?" Sam sat down across from him.

"Maybe." Josh said. "Those negotiations were hell. Even if they hadn't started half an hour late they'd probably been hell."

"How mad is Leo?"

"About to skin me." He said. He opened a can of Red Bull. "He said he wants a full proposition paper on the President's desk first thing Saturday morning. Then he and the President have been in the sit room since."

Sam whistled. "Think ya can get it done?"

"I have to!" He said.

"Need any help?"

Josh took a swig of his Red Bull and turned another page in what he was reading. "I'm good. Someone should get some sleep around here."

Sam stood up. "Call me if you need anything, buddy."

"Got it." Josh said. After he'd gotten chewed out by Leo, then chewed out Jason, Josh had made a plan. He had a little more than 24 hours to save the future of American education and he had a plan. He was almost done organizing the data. Then he'd finish typing up his notes and have a draft of the memo by the next morning. Sleep didn't seem in his future, except maybe a nap before senior staff.

Having a proposition didn't mean he'd have the votes. He didn't exactly have a lot of friends right now, so he'd need to buy some senators a drink. Shmooze some more lobbyists. Where the hell did Donna keep everyone's phone numbers?

Friday was a blur. Shake some hands. Talk less, smile more. Furious typing. A swig of coffee. Misplace his notes, or his phone, or his jacket.

He'd turned his pitch into a fill-in-the-blank: I need your vote for the future of American education because we don't want to grow up in a world of stupid people. Because these kids deserve better. Because I can't imagine not being read to. Because you've always been in our corner and the party can't lose you now. Because this is what's going to go in the history books. Because this might be the time I actually lose my job.

He'd gotten phone numbers from Carol. "You know," she'd said. "CJ says please and thank you."

"Yeah." Josh said as he rushed off. His eyebrows were furrowed together tightly.

When he sat back down at his desk, he scrunched his eyes closed, then opened them with a deep breath. A brief wave of energy. Keeping the headache at bay.

.

The sun was setting Friday night, and Josh's deadline was closing in. He was almost sure he had the support. He needed to polish statements from Senators, then work on the language of the memo. He had four pages. He needed about forty.

He raced through the bullpen with yet another cup of coffee on the way back to his office. He loosened his tie and massaged the back of his neck. Another all nighter and this would be over.

A blonde ponytail and navy sweatshirt caught his peripheral vision as he rushed by.

"Hey Donna, can you double check my numbers for the Midwest centers? And get Nick Morris on the phone, if he's still there. I need to make sure he's still on my team with this."

He froze at the door to his office. "Dooonna!" He shouted.

She stood up from her desk and came up behind him. "Took you long enough to notice." She said.

He ran his hand through his hair. "What the hell are you doing here? You're sick."

"Carol said you were in a jam, and being a bitch about it." She said. She still sounded pretty stuffed up. "I'm here to help."

He shook his head. "You-"

"I'm feeling a little better." She said. "Promise. You're the one who looks like hell. How long has it been since you've been home? Do you still have a clean shirt in your office? Oh, and Nick Morris called right as I got here, about ten minutes ago. We've got him."

The tightness in Josh's shoulders melted and his face spread into a slow, uncertain smile that turned into delirious laughter. "Alright!" he said. "Donna, let's save kindergarten!"

It took Donna the better part of an hour to undo what Josh had tried to do for himself. She sat on the floor of his office, sorting his mess of notes and readings, while he squinted at his laptop, typing rapidly and occasionally swearing. "How can you stand to be this unorganized?" She kept saying. "God, this is worse than a 15-year-old's bedroom. We have a filing system for a reason."

"You have a filing system." he said. "I have you." He cleared his throat for the hundredth time.

"Cut that out." She said. She put down another binder.

"What?" he said absently.

"You keep clearing your throat." She said. "That's a nervous tic I didn't know you had."

"It's kinda scratchy." He said. He clicked around, then groaned. "Dammit apparently I've been using the word disparity wrong my entire life. I'm gonna have to re-write half of this thing. The President is gonna think I'm an idiot. I wrote like hell in law school and I can't even use a-a-a middle school vocabulary word?"

"You don't think you're getting what I had, do you?" She stood up and stretched, stiff from sitting on the floor. His eyes were rimmed in dark circles and his shirt was wrinkled.

"I dunno, Donna." he snapped. "I'm more worried about keeping any sense of credibility in this administration at this point."

She huffed. "This isn't the first time Leo's threatened to fire you, drama queen."

He finally looked up from his computer. "You want to help me or not?"

Donna's mouth fell open. "I'm sorry, who came in sick to save your tail? On a Friday night?" She threw her hands up. "I need a break. I'm going to get us something to eat."

"Fine." Josh said. He sighed loudly and laid his head down on his desk for just a second. The cold edge pressing into his eyebrows wasn't helping the headache he'd been trying to ignore. Every intelligent thought he'd ever had had been replaced by pencil shavings or a pile of discount yarn.

He sat up and blinked at his screen again. This was almost as bad as studying for the Bar after a weekend at the bars. Not that he knew anyone who'd done that.

Donna wouldn't talk to him when she returned twenty minutes later. She tossed a bottle of water, a sandwich, and a tiny pack of DayQuil onto his desk, then resumed her work on the floor.

"Oh, you look like death on a biscuit." Margaret said when Josh trudged into Leo's office shortly after midnight.

"Is he in?" Josh said. His eyes were red and his shoulders sagged. He chewed at his bottom lip. Donna called that his most annoying anxious habit.

Margaret nodded. "He and the President just got back from the sit room." She stood up and gathered her coat and purse. "Some of us are going to go home for something called a weekend."

"Thanks." He sniffled, then pushed Leo's door open.

Leo put his paper down, took off his glasses, and raised his eyebrows at Josh. "Yes?"

Josh handed him a memo. His words almost tripped over each other as they tumbled out of his dry mouth like an avalanche. "This is the future of American Education, Leo. This is all of the information I have on the effectiveness of Head Start and literacy rates in impoverished children. We've got a plan, and we've got the votes. It's all there. It's condensed and proofread and ready for the President."

He felt like Jello as Leo skimmed the first page, nodding. "Do one more thing for me, Josh?"

His heart stopped. He wasn't sure he could even write his name at this point. "Anything." He said.

"Go home." Leo put the memo down. "Take a shower, eat some real food. Get some sleep and don't you dare come back in until at least noon tomorrow. You look terrible."

Josh let out a huge breath. "Thanks Leo."

"You walk a thin line around here, kid. But you're bright as hell." Leo leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. "Good night."

xxx

That's it folks! Sorry it took a while...I just moved and am getting ready to start a new job. (And I've been working on Newsies fanfic, so if you like sadness or Irish folklore or hot tap dancing orphans go check that out). Hope you enjoyed this Josh/Donna little slice of life. :) Reviews make me smile!