AUTHOR'S NOTE: The power… the power… the things an author can make the characters do. Ok, now that that little egotistical trip is over, let's get back to the story.

PHOTOGRAPHS (11)

The sounds of Yo-Yo Ma's cello hung in the air like incense as Josh sat in his office chair, his feet on his desk, beer in his hand. Two years ago, he would have been unable to stay in the same room with the haunting melodies, but time had healed part of that wound and he had learned to appreciate the beauty in the mellow tones that came from his CD-player.

Looking up, he saw C.J. standing in his doorway.

"Yo-Yo Ma rules," he joked, giving her a weak smile.

"I'm surprised you listen to this," she remarked, waving at the source of the music with her wineglass, "after, you know…"

"Donna bought it for me last year. She said it was time for me to face my demons," he replied, looking down into his beer bottle as if he would find the answer to all of his questions there if he searched hard enough.

C.J. sat down across from him, "They're asking about you upstairs. They all wonder where you are."

The President and First Lady were having an informal dinner to welcome Leo back to the White House in his new role as Senior Advisor to the President. All senior staff and their assistants were in attendance.

Josh looked up at her, "Remember the time you found me down here…"

"Listening to Ave Maria? Yeah, I remember…"

"I gave the card back that night," he told her, "I couldn't keep it."

"I know."

He thought for a moment, "When I realized what it meant, it occurred to me that I never thought we would ever be apart, all of us."

"What do you mean?" C.J. sat back in her chair and sipped from her wine glass.

"It never occurred to me that we all wouldn't always be together. And you know what's funny? I still find it hard to believe that we all are going to go our separate ways – hell, some of us have already," Josh said softly, "I never really thought that this would end."

"Really?" she replied incredulously, "You never considered the possibility? Not with the MS thing? Or the re-election campaign?"

"No. Never. I was always too into the fight to consider what I would do if there wasn't a fight anymore. Well, until recently."

C.J. studied him, noting the wear of the years he had been fighting for the President, the sadness in his eyes that had replaced some of the fire of his youth.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning," Josh asked, "like Joe Smith? White picket fence, Volvo, 2.5 kids, with the simple life? Where just paying the bills and figuring out what football game to watch on Sunday were your biggest problems?"

"No, actually, I haven't," C.J. said.

"I have," he responded, looking past her to a spot on the wall, "Lately, I've been wondering why we stayed in the fight. Why we didn't give up? Hell, we've been given enough reasons."

She thought for a moment and then waved her hands as if to point out the obvious.

"We're here because we live for the fight, Josh. You live for the fight. It's what you do. It's who you are. If you wanted to give up, you would have done so after you were shot. No one would have blamed you. Or after the President told us about the MS. Or after the shit with Carrick. But you didn't. You didn't because you believe in the fight. We all do."

"You know what they asked me tonight? The President and Leo?" Josh asked, and not waiting for her response, he continued, "They asked me to go find a candidate for President."

"I know."

He looked up quickly and nodded, "Of course. They must have talked to you first to make sure it was ok with you."

C.J. laughed, "Yeah… they had to make sure I wouldn't implode if my Deputy suddenly decided to resign."

Josh quietly sat for a moment. "Why me, C.J.?"

Stretching her legs out in front of her, C.J. looked at the glass in her hands trying to formulate an answer that would make sense of the feeling she had in her heart, "Because you know the real thing when you see it, Josh. Russell isn't it. He's not the one to carry on our legacy. He's a moron with nice hair and the country doesn't want him any more than we did in the first place. I know that, you know that, Leo knows that, and the President knows that. They trust you to find the right guy and make him win."

Josh thought back to Jed Bartlet's words from earlier in the evening.

"Leo and I are old men, Josh. Our time has come and gone and we are reaching the end of our tenure in the national spotlight. You, you are just beginning. You are a king-maker. I don't doubt that if you had stayed with Hoynes all those years ago, you and I wouldn't be standing here now having this conversation. It's time for you to do it again. It's time for you to go find the real thing and bring him here."

Josh looked from the President to Leo and back again. These two men were the closest thing he had to a father and they were standing here asking him to risk everything for honor and righteousness.

"Mr. President, Leo… I'm not sure…," he started.

"Josh," Leo interrupted, looking so much older than he had those years ago when they talked by the reflecting pool about a Governor named Bartlet and a trip to New Hampshire.

"Leo," Josh pleaded, "Russell is the party nominee. He has it in the bag."

"Josh, go find our guy," Leo quietly stated, looking Josh in the eye, "It's what sons do for old friends of their fathers."

"I could just wait for the President to leave office and then go work as a consultant for someone," he said, running his free hand through his hair, "I mean, isn't that what people like us do?"

"Didn't you listen to a word I just said?" she asked him in an exasperated tone, "That's not what we do!"

"C.J…."

C.J. studied him closely, "You know who you want to run."

He set his beer bottle down on the desk and got up to go grab another from the fridge.

"He won't do it."

"You haven't asked him yet."

"C.J., he doesn't even want to run for re-election to Congress! Besides, I'll be back working for an underdog… what are the odds of getting him elected to the Presidency with no money and basically no public awareness?"

She looked at him with confidence and said quietly, "It's how we got to be right here, Joshua. An unknown Governor from New Hampshire who had no money and no national recognition. The President didn't want to run when Leo approached him… remember?"

Josh looked conflicted and C.J. knew that whatever argument he was having in his head, it could only be won and fought within himself. No matter what she said to try and convince him that Leo and the President had known exactly what they were doing in asking him to find the future of their party, he would have to find his own answers.

C.J. stood up and cocked her head listening to the music for a moment and then let her eyes wander around the room. Glancing at the photograph of Josh and Donna from the Inaugural, she said, "She's upstairs, you know. The First Lady invited her."

"I know," he responded, looking at the beer in his hands.

"If you get Santos to run…" C.J. started, letting the rest of the thought drift away.

"I know," Josh responded, "She works for Russell. Just when I thought things were going to change…"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Whoever signed me up for a trip on the ship of irony booked me one hell of a passage, didn't they?"

"Yeah," C.J. said quietly. "When are you going to tell her?"

Josh thought for a moment, "When I know my answer. I just hope she'll forgive me."

They both stood for a moment, listening to the cello music wrap itself softly around them like a soothing fog.

"Josh, we were never all going to stay together."

He looked up at her quickly, the pain in his eyes evident as he acknowledged what he had never had the courage to say out loud.

"You know that, right," C.J. said, looking down at him with sympathy, knowing how desperately Josh Lyman hated to lose the people around him, "We were never all going to stay together, no matter what happened."

He looked down at his hands and mumbled, "Yeah."

Stopping herself from reaching over and touching him, C.J. took a step toward the door and said, "Come on upstairs. They're asking for you."

"In a minute," he replied, turning his chair so he could look out the window.

After a moment, he heard the door close behind him and he closed his eyes, remembering the Ave Maria and the ones who had already left him behind.

(To be continued.)