***

"Joshua Lyman, married man. Just doesn't make sense." C.J. tested the phrase
again as she stood outside Toby's apartment and shifted her weight from foot to
foot while waiting for Toby to answer her knock. "Joshua Lyman, married man."

"Just a minute, C.J.," Toby said from inside, sounding breathless.

"The mind reels, Toby--"

The door opened, but Toby's body blocked C.J.'s view of the interior. He slipped
out, closing the door behind him.

"Josh isn't in there, running away from home, is he?" C.J. asked, tilting her
head to one side.

"C.J., seriously, there's something we need to discuss."

"Something other than Josh?" She stepped into the living room of Toby's
apartment, stopping in her tracks and staring in disbelief.

There were boxes everywhere, full of papers, full of books, full of mismatched
dishes and framed photographs. Three suitcases stood empty by the bedroom door.
C.J. poked stiffly at one of the boxes.

Toby folded his hands and looked down at the floor for a moment, then up at
C.J.'s face. "You knew I was going to leave," he said, not convincing either
himself or C.J.

"Yeah, but not tonight." She sat heavily on the sofa and buried her face in her
hands.

"I'm not going anywhere tonight. Or tomorrow. By the end of the week." He gnawed
on his lower lip, relishing the frisson of pain, before continuing. "I didn't
know how to tell you, C.J. I'm not sure I...have words."

"Does Leo know?"

Sighing, Toby nodded. "I gave him my letter today."

C.J. knew better than to ask how that meeting had turned out. "Where will you
go?" She asked, the words muffled by her palms.

"I have an old friend with a place in Sausalito."

"You're going to California?" she asked, her dry, disbelieving laugh coming out
like a cough.

"To sit. On a boat or something. Maybe the beach." He took a seat beside her and
put his hand over hers, lacing his fingers through hers and holding tightly.
"There's something I need to write, C.J. It's all locked up in my head and it
won't come out, not here, not while I'm writing the administration's obituary."

It was C.J.'s turn to sigh. "I'm the one who gets to read that obituary. And if
you don't write it, then I'm not sure it's worth reading."

"I'm leaving some things behind. Should get you through the next few weeks in
one piece. Besides," he added, leaning close enough so she could feel the warmth
of his breath, "you own that podium. You could read horoscopes from a tabloid,
and it'd sound like a pronouncement from a sage."

"I only own it for six more weeks," C.J. said. Her voice was strained. "God,
Toby, what am I going to do without you?"

He took a breath, turning his gaze to an empty box as he felt blood coursing to
his face. "You could come with me. Meet me out there once you're done."

She sat up, regarding him with curiosity and tenderness. "What, be your muse?"

"Sure. And keep tar from getting on the carpet when I come home from the beach.
That's important."

"What I'm going to do in New York is important, too. Please tell me you're
not..."

Aghast, he began rubbing his thumb and fingers together. "No. No, C.J., I'm not
asking you to give up New York just because I'm going to California."

"I took New York because I thought you were going to be there." She lowered her
head. "Well, not entirely. But it's a perk. I mean, I assumed..."

"C.J."

They'd talked about it before. They needed to maintain separate spaces, to be
together when they wanted company but to be apart when they were working -
especially when he was writing. Toby's heart was leaden as he watched C.J. dab
at her eyes with the corner of a pillow.

"You'll come back, though?"

He looked into her sad, shining eyes. "I know it's something you need to be
told, but honest to God, I have no idea. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but
when I do...when I do, it'll be with something worth reading."

C.J. sat with her lips pressed tightly together, rocking back and forth. "I
usually love your words, Toby."

"These, not so much?" he whispered, stealing glances at her as she worked to
control her emotions.

"Not so much, no." She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. "This was
already so hard. Leaving the White House. Leaving...him. And what we were trying
to accomplish."

"It's going to be better. We got the Senate back, and Sam will be there, and
he'll have good causes to fight for so you know he'll be at the top of his
game." Toby put his arms around C.J. and held her, stroking her hair. "We'll all
be at the top of our games, C.J. Soon. And I promise to watch you on television
every night, no matter what."

"Good, because I'm all about the ratings now." She laughed into his shirt,
pressing her lips against the exposed skin at his throat. "Toby?"

"Mmm?" He was afraid, not for the first time, that she'd decide her future would
be less complicated without him. He was afraid that this newest hurt would be
too much. That his last memory of her would be the defeated slump of her
shoulders and the pain in her eyes.

But instead he found himself on the receiving end of a sensuous smile and the
feel of her fingers stroking along the edge of his beard.

"You didn't dismantle the bed or anything, did you?"

***
The next morning
***

Josh stared out the window of his office, trying not to hear the opening and
shutting of desk drawers, trying not to see a blonde head or smell green tea
perfume. The relaxation he'd felt after wedding-night sex, the euphoria of
knowing that Amy and he were truly bound together, the happiness at the thought
of someone to love him despite his innumerable faults, all were dissipating in
the wake of Donna packing up her personal effects.

There had been an early-morning call from the First Lady, who had started off
with congratulations for Amy and worked her way up to calling Josh a jackass for
his mishandling of the situation. "She fed you three times a day, changed your
bandages, took you to the doctor, cleaned your apartment, and managed your meds,
all while doing your job for you. Think you might have found a better way to
tell her?"

"Yes, ma'am," Josh had said glumly, and those were among the only words he'd
spoken all day. Bonnie was to take Donna's place for the duration, as Toby was
about to leave, and Donna was packing up to go to her new job with Matt Skinner.

Matt was standing next to Donna's desk, handing her newspaper for wrapping up
picture frames and coffee mugs. "Will and Grace," Josh muttered, leaning his
chin on his hand. He squinted at the sunlight - the champagne headache was
returning full-force - and began to fumble with the blinds. He pulled a cord and
the blinds opened wide enough to assault him with the full force of November
sunlight. He scrambled for the other control, what he called "the clear stick
thing," but succeeded only in making the entire rack go clattering down to the
floor.

"Shit!" he yelped. "Don--"

He wouldn't be able to call for her ever again. She'd be keeping Matt's office
running smoothly, keeping him in line. Not that Matt would need much help in
that department. But still.

Bonnie rushed into the office and cast an appraising glance around the room.
"I'll call someone from Maintenance and get those put back up. You okay?"

No, I'm not okay. I'm supposed to be on my honeymoon, soaking up sun and getting
laid three times a day, but instead I'm being assaulted by mini-blinds while
having to listen to my assistant get ready to leave me.

He didn't say that, but Bonnie probably saw it in his eyes. She backed out the
door without another word, leaving Josh in the perfect position to watch Donna
seal the last of the boxes. Her head was down as she wrote something on top of
it and he couldn't make out what she was saying, but Matt pointed toward Josh's
office and, after a moment's hesitation, Donna nodded.

Look busy, Josh told himself. Look like you aren't jumping up and down because
you have a broken toe. Find something to read. He grabbed a folder and opened it
just as he sensed Donna's presence in the doorway.

"Bonnie's coming back in fifteen minutes, and she'll take care of you until you
get a temp," she said, and in all the years he'd known her he'd never heard such
tightness in her voice.

"Yeah," he said, not daring to look up. After a pause, he added, "Thanks."

He heard the hitch in her breath, and it put a lump in his throat the size of a
fist. Donna coughed, then tried again. "I'd, uh, better go now."

"Yeah," he said again. "See ya."

So it was all coming to this. See ya. Nine years later, Donna's footsteps were
heading away from him for the last time. See ya.

He could hear Sam in his head, calling him a putz.

Tossing the folder on a chair, he took off at a dead run, spinning Bonnie around
as he collided with her. He skidded past Charlie and the President without a
greeting, nearly falling when he hit the marble floor of the lobby. Too
breathless to speak, he raced up to Donna and turned her around, looking into
her eyes, pleading for understanding, begging her forgiveness.

She dropped her boxes and threw her arms around his neck. He held her tightly,
looking over her shoulder as Matt gave him a grim smile and an approving nod.

Josh and Donna had exchanged a million words during their time together. Now
they were silent, letting touch and tears speak for them. Josh got down on one
knee to pick up Donna's boxes. I'm so sorry. She helped him to his feet and let
her fingers brush his as she took the boxes back from him. It's okay. I
understand.

Then there was a flash of sunlight as two guards opened the doors, and Donna was
gone.

***
Part 5