Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented last chapter, that was wonderful! I'm going to try and start catching up with some replies pretty soon here, but know that I really appreciate everyone who leaves feedback of any sort. I will not be telling anybody where the story is going right now, or if/when/who will be involved with any shipping. I will say that after the convention, time is going to start moving faster. Also, my chapters have started trending a bit longer than they were at first, hope that's okay with everyone. :)

…...

"If I retire at forty-two, that wouldn't be weird, would it?" CJ's voice over the phone sounded completely exhausted, but at least she still had a thread of humor running through it. "I look like I've aged about twenty years, if that helps."

"After the eight years you've had, it absolutely wouldn't be weird," Donna confirmed loyally, tucking her feet up next to her in her squashy armchair. It was definitely the best piece of furniture in her apartment, and right next to the window so she could watch the world go by outside. "But you'd be driving yourself crazy in two months and desperate for something important to do. "You need a vacation and a week at a really excellent spa, the kind where you get daily mud baths from nubile young men in towels."

"Well, there's an image for my poor, fevered brain," CJ laughed. "What exactly are you getting up to out there in California, Donna Moss?"

"Not going to many spas, I'm afraid," Donna admitted. "But I've read about places like that, and I'm sure they must exist somewhere, so you should find one. Two weeks of sleep, a spa week, two weeks to sort out all of the life things that fall by the wayside at the White House, and you'll be ready for your next big thing," she told CJ with great confidence. "Are you getting offers yet?"

"Ugh, I don't want to talk about it," CJ groaned. "I've been making Charlie take them far away whenever they arrive. We still have six months in office, and Toby and I are holding this place together with determination and zip ties. There's no clear candidate for the general election, and the last thing anybody needs to see is me planning for the end."

"You've still got plenty of time," Donna reminded her, a little concerned by the edge in CJ's tone. It was hard to tell if it was anxiety or despair from two thousand miles away, but neither was a particularly good sign. "And you'll write your own ticket whenever you decide it's time. Most powerful woman in the world, remember?"

"Power is not nearly so glamorous up close," CJ assured her.

Donna suspected it was a good time to change the subject. "Did you go to Margaret's baby shower?"

"I actually made it for about an hour, which was surprising until I remembered that Margaret does my calendar," CJ answered wryly. "It was mostly surreal. Meeting Margaret's mother and sisters answered a lot of my questions about her, actually." She laughed, a real, reassuring sound. "Carol had to intervene to keep Margaret's mother from buttonholing me about the war with Canada, which she apparently took quite seriously. Then there was a big thing shaped like a wedding cake but made entirely from disposable diapers, and they tried to make us eat baby food on crackers. But I won the "first names of famous historical women" game," she added with considerable pride. "Also, I didn't know that Ginger crochets. Apparently a lot."

"Ginger gets very excited about babies," Donna agreed sagaciously. "When Bonnie had Cayson, Ginger crocheted an entire layette, plus a decorative bag to put it in. She lives all the way out in Silver Spring, she does it on the train."

"Huh," CJ replied, apparently trying to comprehend the idea of having that kind of time. "Well, that baby's head will never be cold. I bought her the stroller from her list. It looked very efficient. Surprisingly technological."

"Knowing Margaret, it's probably the safest, most antibacterial and hypoallergenic on the market, and may have secret protection from the Illuminati worked into it as well," Donna agreed. "I went in on the crib. Who knew baby furniture was so expensive?" She shook her head. "Just reading through that list was kind of exhausting. I can't imagine how any woman balances kids and a career, but I know they manage."

"I can barely keep my fish alive, much less a relationship, much less a child," CJ agreed. "Takes a rare breed... no pun intended." The dry humor undercut any wistfulness that might have been in either of their voices. "So, convention, San Diego, two short weeks away. You going to go watch the pie fight?"

Donna hummed noncommittally. "I thought about it, but I only know a few people in the party out here, and I'm sure their passes are tapped out. I'll probably just watch it on television."

CJ gave a heavy, affected sigh. "Donna, my dear, you need to learn to lean on your friends a little harder. You know literally every person who works in the White House, and you're worried about getting a floor pass to the DNC? All you have to do is ask."

"And maybe for Sam, too?" Donna wheedled hopefully.

It made CJ laugh. "Only if you make him promise to get his ass out here sometime soon. You'd think he were taking a wagon train instead of a flight from LAX to National. What about for the girlfriend, Kelsey?"

"Kinley." Donna thought for a minute. "Yeah, that would be good. She isn't really into politics, but if a national convention doesn't do the job, nothing will. I've never been so excited about an election in my whole life as I was in Boston on the first campaign. And she's going to have to get used to it."

"Sam's still feeling ambitious, hmm?" CJ mused. "Good. And I imagine you're laying groundwork already?" Donna hmmed affirmatively. "Good for you. Somebody's gotta keep running this place when the rest of us have run screaming from politics."

"Don't speak too soon, CJ, you could always run for Congress," Donna suggested, only half-teasing. "You'd be great at it. And you're very tall, which is statistically a benefit to candidates."

"Bite your tongue!" CJ retorted firmly. "God, if I ever decide to run for public office, that's the day you call the nice men with the white coats. It's a game for megalomaniacs and masochists, and every so often a good person falls in by accident."

"If you're sure," Donna replied with good-humored dubiousness. "Do you really think it's going to be a pie fight?"

"Not really," CJ admitted. "There's a lot going on behind the scenes in the campaigns right now. I'm sure there are deals in play, but Josh is doing his angry and brooding thing and hasn't called since we issued the statement on Russell not actually hating Mexicans. So I'm not exactly in the loop right now, but I imagine the whole thing is riding on whether or not Matt Santos wants to be vice-president."

"I can't imagine either of them would say no to him at this point," Donna mused. "He's a lot of voltage at the bottom of the ticket, but he's bringing the votes."

"It's not a matter of wanting to say no," CJ explained. "But he and Hoynes are both from Texas. Electoral college rules require each elector to cast two ballots, one for president and one for vice president, but they are prohibited from casting both their votes for residents of their own states."

"So if the ticket is Hoynes/Santos, they wouldn't be able to carry Texas," Donna realized.

"Which means 34 electoral votes they can't possibly spare in a race against Vinick," CJ confirmed.

"Did you have to look all that up or did you just know that?"

"I asked Margaret."

"Of course." Donna laughed. "So if Santos wants a shot at being vice-president, he'll throw in with Russell, but if he wants the Democrats to have a chance in hell of winning, he'll throw to Hoynes and not ask for the vice-presidency. Cabinet post, maybe?"

"Maybe," CJ agreed. "Either way, so long as he bows out gracefully and soon, he's the crown prince in four years. Imagine what he'd do with the party behind him from the start."

"Yeah," Donna mused. "He called me the other night."

"Who, Matt Santos?" CJ asked, surprised.

"Oh, no. Josh did. After the New Jersey primary, he called me late that night. He was really drunk."

"Ah." The wealth of understanding in CJ's voice suggested to Donna that she might be giving away more than she realized. "Are you okay? What did he say?"

Donna shifted restlessly, tried to find the right words to explain. "It was... pretty much the conversation I've been expecting we'd have since I left, except that he was so drunk it didn't make sense for me to say anything back. He's furious with himself because he couldn't take Santos all the way, so he piled some of it on me for leaving him so he couldn't do his best work. But I'm okay. It was a backhanded compliment, I guess, him claiming that he couldn't do his job right without me." She laughed, but there was very little humor in it.

"That boy should never be allowed to drink anything harder than root beer," CJ muttered. "He's right that he did his best work with you, but that doesn't mean you were obligated to sacrifice your life for him. Campaigns make him crazy, you know that. He probably hasn't slept in weeks, and he isn't talking to any of us. He'll come around."

"Eventually, hopefully." Donna sighed and let it go. "If you see him soon, harass him about his cardiologist, okay? He was due for a follow-up in April and I'm a hundred percent sure he didn't go. He looks like a ghost on television. I'm about ready to call his mother." She swore she could hear CJ's eyebrow going up from twenty-five hundred miles away. "I know!" she admitted, "but this isn't about being his assistant or micromanaging his schedule. He could die."

"I'll mention it," CJ promised. "But you know it's Sam you need to recruit for this project. And in any case, I was supposed to be in a meeting three minutes ago and I'm getting evil glares, so I'm going to let you go back to bed, or whatever you were doing at six am on the West Coast. I'll have Margaret call you about those passes."

"Thanks CJ, I really appreciate it. Talk to you later." Donna ended the call and stretched in her seat, watching as the sun crept over the buildings across the way. She was definitely going to have to do some shopping before the convention to start building up her Professional Political Operative With An Actual Important Job wardrobe. She'd save buying the very silly hat for the convention itself, just to fit in.

…...

"Hoynes! I can't believe it's going to be Hoynes." Sam shook his head and finished his beer before stretching out on the couch. "I can't believe I'm going to have to vote for Hoynes."

"Did you really think it was going to be Russell?" Donna asked, picking the bits of egg out of her fried rice with chopsticks and eating them. She'd curled up in the recliner, the better to keep her own beer close to hand. "Would you have been happier to vote Bingo Bob?"

"God no," Sam said vehemently. He gestured at the screen, which showed a repeat of a solemn-faced Matt Santos, standing in front of a crowd of supporters to announce that he was suspending his campaign and would be endorsing John Hoynes for president. "I wanted to vote for him! Hell, I was half-expecting Josh to show up and ask me to work on his campaign, and I would've had a hard time saying no. The idea of voting for one of those two vice-presidential hacks instead turns my stomach. Both of them should be bowing out instead."

"It's just four years," Donna consoled halfheartedly. "Vinick can't take the country apart too much in four years, and he's so old that maybe he won't even stand for re-election." She abandoned her quest for eggs and began picking out bits of water chestnut. "I kind of thought Josh would ask you to join the campaign too," she admitted. "Maybe Santos just wanted to keep writing his own speeches."

"Apparently he ruined my life when he brought me on board Bartlet for America," Sam told her dryly, sitting up on his elbows to look at her. "Everything bad that happened during the first term was his fault, and he couldn't do anything to fix it. He called me the night of the New Jersey primary," he explained at Donna's questioning look. "He was all but incoherent, but that was the gist of it. I think he felt like if he were going to tilt at windmills, he'd do it on his own."

"He racked up quite a phone bill that night," Donna murmured. "But that sounds like Josh-logic. I hear Russell's going to be suspending his campaign as well, so we'll have nothing but party unity going into the convention. Has Kinley decided if she wants to come with?"

Sam looked, if possible, even more depressed. "I'm still trying to talk her into it. I don't understand how anybody would turn down the chance to go to their own party's national convention! It's the great egalitarian political show, a chance for Americans from all walks of life to truly participate in the political process! Delegates step out of their own lives for a chance to represent something larger than themselves, to represent the greatest ideals of Democracy! Even when the candidates are lackluster, the idea itself is incredibly inspiring! How can she not see that?"

"Not everyone is into politics," Donna reminded him gently. "And the national convention can be a little overwhelming. Maybe she just needs to think about it for a little while. Although if she doesn't want to come," she added, "I have several friends in my classes who would trade important teeth or future children for the chance at a floor pass to the convention. It won't go to waste."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to hold a lien on the children of a future leader of the Democratic party," Sam mused, though the thought obviously didn't cheer him much.

"Just so long as you don't have to change diapers. Here." Donna scooped a cookie out of the takeout bag and lobbed it at him, bouncing it off his head. "Misfortune cookie."

Sam glared balefully at her, then unwrapped and cracked open the cookie. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." He looked again at the television screen. "Yeah, misfortune cookie. What'd you get?"

Donna snickered and opened her own cookie. "The smart thing to do is to start trusting your intuition. I do have excellent intuition," she decided. "Also, the Chinese word for rainy is 'xia yu.'"

"Good to know," Sam decided.

…...

Credits: Special thanks to my political historian husband for explaining why the President and Vice-President probably can't come from the same state even if it's technically legal. Thanks also to .uk for providing an endless well of pithy sayings.