Don't own them. Please don't sue me.

"Leo McGarry!"

"Governor." Leo shook his hand. Sweaty hand, with a weak grip and a hangnail. It took Leo fifteen seconds to process this man and what we wanted and another five to realize that it didn't matter anymore. There were no favors Leo could grant and no meetings he could set up. The governor's nine electoral votes weren't part of any larger equation, at least not one that Leo was privy to.

He stuck his hand in his pocket.

C.J. and Toby were in a corner looking cagey. Leo knew that the full nine innings had been rough. Josh and Donna had left during the seven inning stretch; sometimes it seemed as if Sam left before the game even got started. C.J., he knew, was leaving politics permanently. Deciding what to do with the rest of her life, after she planned the wedding. Done with the game, sick of the hangnails. He remembered sitting across from her in his old office a few days before. She was sprinkling food in Gail 13's bowl and she told him, in no uncertain terms...

"I'd rather die then do this another twenty years."

C.J. would walk off gracefully. Toby would fight tooth and nail, forgetting that he wasn't a young man anymore. Forgetting that he had won the election, won it twice, and he had nothing left to prove. He wasn't outside throwing rocks at the window. Leo felt a twinge of regret; he knew Toby Ziegler thrived on breaking windows and pissing in the wind. He had turned Toby into an inside man. Maybe Toby would have loved life more on the outside.

He couldn't feel responsible for all the sadness in the Bartlet administration. Not for Toby's bitter musings, C.J.'s quiet anger or Josh's bloody roller coaster. Of course he did feel responsible. His poor heart could testify to it. But he couldn't anymore. What was done was done and if Jed Bartlet didn't stay up nights worrying about Toby's sadness, C.J.'s pain or Josh's meloncholy, neither would Leo.

He didn't know whether Jed Barlet thought about those things or not. Probably absorbed with his own sadness, pain and meloncholy.

On this night, Leo was in his own sadness and he knew why.

Wanted the best for them. Everything for them. The picket fence, the luxury car, four bowls of Cheerios in the morning and a sweet kiss at the end of the night. Nothing had changed, Leo told himself. When Josh showed up in his hotel room that morning, he told himself that nothing had really changed. The first inning had been a loss, but there were nine, ten, twenty-five more times at bat...

"She miscarried two days ago."

"Oh, God," Leo dropped his spoon. "I'm so goddamn sorry, kid."

He cursed himself for saying "kid."

"It's okay," Josh poked at the carpet with his shoe. "We both... we got ourselves checked out and everything is fine for the next time."

"Donna's young; you've still got plenty of time."

Josh nodded tightly. Leo motioned to the chair across from him.

"There was nothing wrong this time, I mean, it just happened. They didn't warn us. They didn't say there were any potential complications."

"Sometimes they can't tell... sometimes it just happens that way."

"It shouldn't..." Josh ran a hand over his face. "There was so much stress at the end of the campaign and that can't have been good..."

Leo snapped his head up. "Don't go there, Josh. I know you. You feel guilty if Peter in the copy room gets a skinned knee. You feel guilty if its raining when the weatherman said it should be sunny. But guilt over this will destroy you. So don't."

Josh's voice was barely above a whisper. "How can I not... I should have made her quit."

"She wouldn't have let you." Leo softened his voice.

Josh didn't seem to listen. Leo knew Josh had to let it out, had to give his demons voice and it killed him inside to watch his son hurting, yet again.

"I could've..." Josh's voice was breaking slightly. "I could've afforded to keep her with me and she wouldn't have had to work. I could have begged her to go to bed at a decent hour and eat balanced meals and drink nine glasses of milk..."

"Nine glasses of milk?"

"Isn't that what babies need?" Josh asked in a small voice, but with a grain of humor in his eyes.

"I know they need milk, I don't know about a set number of glasses or anything..." Leo trailed off and leaned over to squeeze Josh's shoulder. "It'll be okay, Josh."

"I really wanted this."

"And you're going to have it," Leo said with determination. He'd be damned if God let it turn out any other way. "Josh, you are going to have kids and I would image they'll probably be the most spoiled little brats in Washington, next to Mallory."

Josh laughed. Not a deep laugh or a backslapping roar, but a simple chuckle. "Yeah... I know, Leo. I know there's really nothing I could have done."

Leo grunted and put his spoon back in his oatmeal. A little cold now, but the raisons made it palatable. Tonight, he decided, he would take Josh and Donna out for a meal at his favorite Bistro, if they felt up to it. "I should have asked this to begin with... how is Donna? Is she okay?"

"She's doing okay. Health wise, she's recovering. Yesterday, she stayed in bed..." Josh stopped suddenly and looked past Leo to the window.

"She'll be fine, Josh. It'll take time, but she'll be fine."

Josh's eyes were still trained on the window. He sniffled a bit, then moved his face back to Leo's. "It happened while we were asleep. I didn't know you could sleep though something like that."

"You can." Leo put his spoon down again.

"She yelled my name and I woke up and there was all this..."

"Jesus," Leo opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out.

"Anyway," Josh recovered himself and sat up. "After the initial shock, we knew what was going on. Took her to the hospital, they cleaned everything up..."

"Maybe you should call Stanley."

"We did last night." Josh rubbed his hands together. "Anyway, my mom and her parents and you and Stanley are right. We have a zillion more chances. I just think about what Toby and Andi went though.. I would have hoped..."

"And they never gave up trying and now they have Huck and Molly."

"Yeah," Josh gave a small smile. "For the first time, I think I realize how difficult it must have been for them."

"Sometimes you strike out the first at bat and hit a home run the second time." Leo grinned sheepishly. "That was incredibly cheesy, I'm sorry."

"I always like a good cheesy baseball metaphor early in the morning," Josh quipped. He almost seemed like himself. Almost. The lines under his eyes, the slight shudder in his shoulders... Leo could deal with the malcontent Toby and the bittersweet C.J. but a shaking Josh with eyes of blood clots, bullets and babies was hard on the stomach before the full bowl of oatmeal. All of his children pulled on his heartstrings; they all just plucked different cords.

Leo had them both over for dinner, catered in. They were quiet, unnaturally so. The three of them watched a movie after, Leo couldn't remember the plot or title for the life of him. Donna had fallen asleep during it, her head in Josh's lap. Josh watched her, not the movie, lovingly stroking her hair.

The event four nights later was quiet, everyone talking in hushed tones to people they already knew. Toby and C.J. had begun to socialize a bit. Both of them shot looks at Will Bailey, who was trying to blend in with the wallpaper. Annabeth was blissfully happy, ignorant of all the melodrama and pain and Kate Harper, per usual, was lost in her own world.

Charlie was shaking Josh's hand.

Leo had told them not to come. Well, he couldn't exactly order them not to come, not anymore. But he had tried to muster up some of his old Chief of Staff persona. Obviously, they hadn't listened.

He couldn't schmooze, kiss ass and then kick it, with Josh and Donna in the room. He was too attuned to their pain. He had to watch them as they quietly steered themselves towards a wall, far away from Will Bailey's. He kept his eyes trained on them as Josh procured them two glasses of water and Donna swallowed a few pills.

His replacement walked over to him. "This feels like a funeral."

Leo's head snapped up. C.J. must be blissfully ignorant. She wouldn't have said that... if she had known. "Well, a gathering of Bartlet supporters at this point..."

"I'm sorry." C.J. shook her head slightly. "I'm sounding far too morbid recently."

"The end of an era brings thoughts of... ends, I guess."

"I guess." C.J. sipped her wine. "But it never really ends, does it?"

Leo smiled. "No, not really."

C.J. followed Leo's eyes. "They don't seem like themselves tonight, Josh and Donna. I talked to them for a second... Leo, it seemed like they had been crying."

Thirty and change years in politics and the lie rolled of Leo's tongue with barely a thought. "They're just tired from a long campaign. A brutal campaign."

"I would think they would be in euphoria, though, with the wedding and everything."

"Generally, I think they are... you know, everyone's emotions are running high tonight."

Toby had made his way over to the couple in question, who were leaning against the wall and gripping each other's hands. Toby said something to elicit a small smile out of Donna and a quiet chuckle out of Josh. But it seemed that the sadness was too much even for Toby; he clasped Josh's shoulder, kissed Donna on the cheek and made his way to other guests.

Leo excused himself to C.J. and made his way over.

"I told you you didn't have to come tonight."

It was Donna, not Josh, who answered him. "But this is important, Leo. Besides, its nice to get out of the house." She said that, but her eyes confirmed that it was anything but nice.

Josh glanced at Leo. "We're not going to stay long."

Leo couldn't think of a thing to say to them. He had already gone through the "I'm so sorry" and this wasn't the proper place to discuss recent events.

"I just don't want the two of you feeling obligated to be here. You don't have to put up a brave front..."

Josh interrupted him. "I don't think we're putting on much of a show, Leo. Besides, being here takes our minds off..." He squeezed his fiancee's hand. She smiled warmly, obviously grateful for his support.

Donna looked to Leo. He could see a certain hardness in her eyes that he had seen before... after Gaza, after the kidnapping. The toughest of his children to figure out, the most distant and perhaps the most complex; the one thing Leo knew about Donna was that the "Bambi-esque" fragile china doll image was bullshit. He regretted now that, as Josh's assistant, Donna had been too far away for Leo to try and figure out what was beneath that mask. Donna would be married in matter of weeks and Leo knew that Donna Lyman would wear a different mask than Donna Moss. It would take that much longer to figure her out.

"It's good to be out, really." Donna closed her eyes and leaned further back into the wall.

Leo watched Josh watch Donna. He made to leave them be, because that's what he knew they needed. Not some hovering father figure, but each other. "Just let me know if the two of you need anything."

Donna's eyes snapped open and she smiled again. The greenish blue was still rimmed with red, but she seemed better. Fragile china, Leo's ass. They both would be fine. "Thanks, Leo."

As he turned away and left, he saw Josh press a kiss to Donna's lips. He heard Josh whisper, "How much longer should we stay?"

"A few minutes, I guess."

"Leo McGarry!"

Leo spun to see a Senator approaching him, a sweaty twinkle in his eye. Like a bloodhound. Leo racked his brain for the title of the bill and when he realized that there weren't to be anymore bills, he felt both relieved and old. An old clump of oatmeal.

By the time he turned around again, Josh and Donna were gone.