Donna was at the end of her rope. She'd decided, several hours ago, that she must have been out of her mind when she'd agreed to this little adventure to begin with. Her fellow classmates had convinced her that she'd needed a weekend away so she had, somewhat begrudgingly, agreed to join them for four days in Cabo to round out their spring break.

She'd hugged CJ and Danny goodbye when they'd dropped her at the airport, and wheeled her luggage to the seemingly endlessly long line for check in counter, only to discover that her flight had been moved to a different terminal. "But I've been standing in line for almost forty minutes," she'd told the ticketing agent. "There was no posted sign. I'm going to be late. Can you inform them that I'm on the way?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the agent told Donna with no empathy in her voice. "You'll have to catch a shuttle and check in at the desk in Terminal 1. Next!"

Donna sighed but did as she was instructed, hopping on the next shuttle to Terminal 1. She sat somewhat anxiously on the bus, checking her watch repeatedly and wondering if she would make her flight. Nothing ever seemed to go right for her when she traveled.

So, when she noticed the smoke coming out of the hood of the vehicle as they sat in airport traffic, she could completely believe it. It was right on par for her 'vacation.' The driver pulled over when he'd seen the vehicle overheating, and now they sat on the shoulder of the road at a complete standstill. The driver assured them that the airport would do their best to send a replacement shutte in a reasonable amount of time, but it was still time that Donna didn't have.

Hopping off the bus when it reached her terminal, she was met with another line at the counter, a line in TSA and, of course, a random security pat down.

She held her arms out and sighed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face as the agent used a metal detecting wand on her. "I used to work in The White House," she muttered.

"What's that?" The agent gave her a pointed look.

"Nothing," Donna stated, as she heard the final call for her flight.

"Go ahead." The agent handed her luggage back to her and allowed Donna to enter the terminal.

Donna took off at a jog, but she only made it a few steps before twisting her ankle in the straps sandals she was sporting.

"Oh, just forget it," she said out loud to no one as she plopped down on a bench in a defeat. Maybe this wasn't meant to be, she thought. She'd had her doubts about going on spring break to begin with. Maybe she just needed to spend a relaxing weekend at home.

Ah, yes. Home. The idea was sounding better and better. She pulled out her phone and began to call CJ before noticing the time. Donna knew that CJ was in meetings all afternoon, and didn't want to bother her for this. She dialed the house, hoping she'd catch Danny, but it only rang until the machine picked up. She knew she could keep calling, but if he was in the backyard with his garden and a radio, he'd never hear it.

She clicked 4 on her speed dial and waited for Sam to pick up.

"Watkins, Perkins, Hadley and Seaborn, This is Cynthia." Sam's secretary rarely picked up his private line.

"Hi, Cynthia. This is Donna. Is Sam around?"

"Oh, hello, Miss Moss. No, I'm sorry. Sam left early today."

"He did?"

"Yes. A few hours ago. Something personal came up."

"Is everything alright?"

"Seemed to be." Cynthia wouldn't normally speak so freely, but she knew Donna well, and Sam had often indicated that she should be privy to information about his schedule. "He was in a great mood when he left. Asked me to clear the rest of his day and all of tomorrow."

"Oh. Well, alright."

"Can I take a message, Miss Moss? I'd put you through to his cell but he left it on his desk.

"No, that won't be necessary. Thank you, Cynthia." Donna flipped her phone closed and rest her head in her hands. Some vacation this was. She could call a cab, she supposed, but the thought of a cab ride of that duration made her cringe internally.

Donna stared down at her phone, trying to decide what to do. She'd missed her flight and now she was alone in the airport with a throbbing ankle, what else could go wrong today?

"Donna Moss?"

"Hmm?" She didn't even bother to look up.

"What are your thoughts on the new tell all book about Josh Lyman?"

"Haven't read it. Don't intend to." She was still trying to figure out how she was going to get home from the airport.

"And why's that?"

"Not a big fan of fiction…" she trailed off, looking up as the topic of conversation finally registered in her brain. She was a bit out of practice. Her stomach dropped when she saw Taylor Vaughn of the New York Times standing before her. "That's off the record," she quickly spit out, though she knew it was of no use. Taylor had rarely been a friend to White House staffers.

"Nothing's off the record, Miss Moss," he snarked back.

Donna had to think fast. As long as she was commenting, she might as well go for it. She rattled off a statement, speaking from the heart, and then turned to leave Taylor before he could ask for follow up.

Donna quickly decided a taxi would be worth the cost. She had to get out of there.

She loaded her suitcase into the trunk and curled up next to the window and closed her eyes, willing the ride to go by quickly.

She dozed off and on, too worried about her surroundings to really nap. Her mind drifted to a similar day a lifetime ago, navigating Indiana with Josh and Toby. She felt herself smile involuntarily at the thought. Though the day had been a complete fiasco, ending in heartbreak with the Kent State bombing, she focused on the little bits of happiness she could pull from that day- it was all she had left of him.

She thought of the way his eyes wandered over to her in times of uncertainty, the touch of his hand on the small of her back, the warm sweatshirt he'd purchased her when she was sopping wet and freezing cold. The smile that used to be reserved for only her. The unwavering desire to do something positive to change the world.

Donna felt the car slow to a stop, only then realizing that it had taken over two hours to make her way home. The sun had set over the city and the street was only lit by the soft lights shining through the draperies.

She paid the cab fare and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. Limping up the driveway to the house she spotted Sam's car, pleased to see that he'd made it over for family dinner.

She was exhausted, paying little attention to her surroundings as she pulled her keys out and let herself in, dropping her bag by the front door and heading immediately to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine.

"I'm home," she yelled out. "And God what a day it's been…" She was going to launch into a narrative about her less than ideal visit to the airport, but she stopped at the sound of commotion coming from the other room.

Donna heard the small clang of silverware being suddenly dropped in the dining room, and the unmistakable sound of a solid wood chair scooting backwards against the hardwood floor, as though someone had immediately stood up.

"Guys?" She continued, furrowing her brow to peek around the corner. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared, her eyes immediately locking with his.

"Josh."

"Donnatella."