Spoilers: Everything is fair game up through "Disaster Relief." It's canon up to that point, with one major exception: Sam's still around! There's no special background you need on that, just that he's still Deputy Communications Director and still his adorable self. Hey, I miss him, so I took a little artistic license. Heavy spoilers in the beginning of the story for Season 5.

Disclaimer: Lucky people who don't know me own the West Wing and all its characters/concepts. Your old friends you recognize herein aren't mine. A few new friends you'll meet along the way are. It's all just for fun, much like when Margaret practices the President's signature.

Author's Notes: This story is complete and has been posted over on the JDFF Yahoo! Boards, so if it seems familiar, that's why. I'm going to publish a few chapters here and there as I get the chance, but I plan to update regularly. This is my first time to post on the boards, so bear with me as I learn the rules.

Chapter 1

Donna made her way down Pennsylvania Avenue at a brisk pace, a most uncharacteristic scowl marring her features. It had been, some would say, a textbook "one of those days." And it wasn't nearly over.

In the late afternoon sun, she made her way to what she was sure would, sadly, prove to be the highlight of her day. Dinner. Well, lunch, actually, if you didn't count the wilted salad and day-old muffin she and Josh had shared while they worked straight through in his office. Even with the two of them sharing it, the meal had been so unenjoyable, most of it had gone uneaten.

So, what did you call a meal that was a combination of lunch and dinner? Linner? No, it needed to follow the same grammatical guidelines as "brunch." So that would make it...dunch?

OK. Her mental state was worse than she thought. She was going to need more coffee. Long as this day was going to be, there would be no harm in making it a few minutes longer and stopping for a Frappucino on the way back.

Make that two Frappucinos, she amended. Unless, of course, she wanted to share hers with Josh. Oh, he could complain all he wanted to about how sissy it was. That it wasn't real coffee unless it was strong, hot and black. But the truth was he loved Frappucinos, if only because he could drink cold coffee faster. Faster caffeine intake meant faster, better work. Faster work was a good thing.

It had been like this for a month now. Normal workdays in the West Wing were cruel and unusual compared to most of the corporate world, but the workload this month was literally beyond belief. Josh was in Round 12 of what was proving to be a very long fight with the Blue Dog Congressmen on the Hill, and he was about to resort to threatening them with bodily harm if they didn't step back to the President's side and tow the party line on the next phase of the teaching incentives program.

And Donna cursed herself for it because her current misery was all her own doing. Damned "What A Shame" file. She smiled to herself ruefully. Donna Moss, ladies and gentlemen. The only woman who cares so much about her boss that she'll create more work for him AND herself just to momentarily get him to lose that kicked-puppy look that makes her want to cry. Let's give her a big hand!

Yeah. Better make it two double-shot Frappucinos.

Still, she had to admit, it was worth it. It had been a couple months since they'd gone through the "What a Shame" file. Josh had at first tried to wave her off, insisting half-heartedly that he was fine and had plenty to do. But Donna had insisted they spend five minutes going through the file, just because they hadn't in a while, and after giving him her own kicked-puppy face, he'd agreed. She'd flipped through the various pieces of paper randomly. Most were serious ideas, but some were joke Post-Its they'd left each other when they'd gotten punchy that she'd dropped in the file for a laugh later.

"Here's one I think has true merit... 'Amend the Constitution to make it a felony to register Republican.' That's a special kind of genius, you know. You're very smart, Josh, I've always said that about you."

He'd snapped back from the faraway look he'd gotten on his face. "Sure, you say that now. Where were you when I was actively seeking support for the RSA?"

"The RSA?"

"The 'Republicans Suck Amendment'!"

"Ah, sorry."

"They really do, you know. Actually, I think it's more people in general. Or maybe just people who know me. Especially disloyal Congressman who change parties because they don't get all the toys they want when they demand them. Like a spoiled child at Christmastime. Only your children can't officially turn on you, I guess. I'll bet Carrick was a rotten little brat in his day."

"He still is a rotten little brat." They'd shared a smile. "Anyway, that's your five minutes. Get back to..." she'd gestured at his desk and turned to walk out the door.

"Hang on," he'd said, his hand extended for the folder.

"What?"

"Let me see that."

"Josh, we are not going to put time in on the 'Republicans Suck Amendment'!"

"Would you give it to me, please?"

She'd handed the file over hesitantly, and he'd sifted through the sheets as if he already knew what he was looking for. He pulled out one near the top of the stack and read aloud. "A 21st century teacher corps."

"Yeah."

"You know, because of all the baby boomers, I mean they're getting up there, and they're gonna want to...you know...retire."

He was repeating Donna's original statement back to her and trailing off while doing it. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head. She just waited.

"You know, I think Charlie's Teachers might just be ready for Phase Two."

And so it began. The teaching incentives pilot program that Toby, Sam and the President had bounced around a couple years ago during a late-night flight on Air Force One, the same program that Charlie had inadvertently inspired with his scribbling, "Send them to college," thus causing the staff to nickname them "Charlie's Teachers," was about to get a booster shot, Lyman-style.

Josh and Donna had set about getting funding to extend the program. Originally designed to include 100 participants, whose tuition the government paid in exchange for a commitment to teach in an inner-city school after graduation, Josh started working to extend the program to 5,000 enteringfreshmen. It was a big leap, but Josh never did anything small.

After weeks in Leo-imposed exile, Josh was again a man on a mission. He had the glint back in his eyes, he had the purpose back in his stride, and he was hanging his head less and less every day around Leo.

Angela Blake had long since made her discreet exit, and Josh's workload was back to its normal superhuman level. But he still wouldn't let the teachers go, which was what made for the super-long days. And now, as Josh fought down to the wire for the House to approve the funding for Phase Two, Donna had to admit it had most definitely been worth it. He was back, and she'd helped.

If only she could have helped herself a little more. While she'd been slaving away at the White House, life had been going on without her. It always did, but some times it got to her worse than others. This week, she'd fielded calls from her sister, her high-school best friend and her college roommate. Everyone was getting engaged or having a baby or getting promoted, except her. She was getting dinner. For her boss. For herself, yes, but also for her boss. Linner? Could it honestly be dunch? God, she needed help. The luster of working at the White House had worn off years ago for her friends and family. Somehow, over time, it had become less impressive, and she had gone from "working at the White House" to "working for Josh" when they brought it up. Like it was some sort of insult. Add it all together, and it had been a bad week. And it still wasn't nearly over.

She checked her watch as she ducked into Capitol Grille and took her place in line. 4:45. Josh would still be in his meeting on the Hill. He'd seemed outwardly grumpy all day, but those who knew him well knew it was just determination. It was how he got himself psyched up. It was how he prepared to do battle. And with every battle he won, he won back a little of Leo's confidence. And that was really what he was after, even if he wouldn't admit it. Leo. What the hell had been Leo's problem lately, anyway?

So, as a little reward for their hard work, and since lunch had been a bust, they weren't going to eat from the mess tonight. Capitol Grille was the kind of sandwich shop that quickly became local legend. Josh had first taken her there not long after they'd won the White House, and introduced her to the place's signature sandwich — the Capitol Sub, a quite addictive variation on a Philly cheesesteak sandwich that substituted chicken for the beef and added sliced jalapeño peppers. It was the jalapeños that made it a work of art. Donna had fast become a regular, just as Josh predicted she would.

"Donnatella," came the heavily accented call from the owner and head cook, Karim. Donna looked over the counter from her place in line and forced a smile, despite her gloomy mood.

"Don't tell me Josh let you out of work this early," he said jovially, tapping his watch.

Donna had come to love Karim over the years. She played their usual game. "That slave driver? No way. I had to sneak out while he was in a meeting on the Hill, and I'm going back."

Karim nodded understandingly, his usual smile still firmly in place. "Where have you two been hiding?" he said, beckoning her out of line and to the counter. "I haven't seen you in two Sundays."

Donna smiled genuinely now. The Sunday lunches at Capitol Grille had started after Rosslyn, when Josh had healed enough that he was being allowed out of the townhouse for a couple hours at a time, but when Donna still wasn't letting him anywhere near the White House. Capitol Grille had been the closest she'd let him to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

He'd healed and gone back to work, but they still continued the ritual, with very few lapses. The longest had been when he'd been dating Amy and she'd declared Sundays to be "her day with her man." After that had gone bust and Donna had pretended to forgive him, they'd turned back up at Capitol Street Grille one Sunday, and Josh had received a talking-to from Karim. He looked forward to their visits as much as Josh and Donna did. Josh promised no more major lapses for the duration of the administration. It was a promise he had little power to keep, they all knew, but his intent was good. His intent was always good.

"Josh is on a mission," she said, not needing to explain.

"Blue Ribbon Commission again?" Karim asked. A naturalized citizen of Lebanese birth, Karim had a keen interest in government, and always had a new issue to quiz Josh on. He, for one, actually seemed to enjoy hearing Josh prattle on about what he was working on. That was the second reason Josh had become a regular years ago. He liked the food, but he also liked Karim. Then again, Josh liked everybody. Even Amy. Up until recently, that is. Amy had finally stepped in it — again.

"Huh-uh, 21st century teacher corps. Or the start of one anyway," Donna responded.

"Good for you!" Karim responded, his accent still thick, even after many years in the US. "You know, with the baby boomers getting ready to retire we're going to lose —"

"Yeah," Donna said. She had to hear it from Josh, she wasn't going to listen to it from Josh's biggest fan. Not today.

"Well, you'd better bring that boy down for lunch on Sunday," Karim chided. "I want details."

"I'll tell him."

"Okay. You have a call-in?"

Donna had started to dig in her purse and looked up, suddenly sheepish. "Actually I forgot. Maybe it was delirium from hunger..."

Karim frowned. "Didn't you have lunch?"

Okay, time to make a call on that issue once and for all. "Not really, no." What? That's not waffling. That's a firm statement that the jury's still out on whether this is lunch or dinner or...God, she needed sleep.

"Do you want me to lecture you like a mother hen?"

"Not really, no," she repeated, pulling her credit card out and smiling in spite of herself.

"Then don't skip lunch again," he quipped.

"Or don't tell you, at least."

"I would know anyway."

"How?"

"I have my ways," he said, painting a mysterious look on his face that came off as 100 percent comic. His face dissolved into a frown again as he saw the credit card Donna was absent-mindedly tapping against the back of her hand.

She looked down. "What?"

"Modem's been on the blink all morning," he said. "They say they're working on it, but we gave up on running credit cards around lunchtime."

She flipped her wallet open. "I don't have any cash, as usual."

"You'll get me Sunday," he said. "Guarantees me you'll come back."

"No," she said.

"Donnatella, it's not as if don't know where to find you," he said with that mega-watt smile.

"Not gonna do it, Karim," she said. "It'll mess up your receipts and you know Sheila will punish you."

"Sheila's my wife. She won't punish me."

"Sheila's your accountant. She'll punish you at home and at work," she warned.

"You're right, of course," he said. "Never mix the professional with the personal, Donna. It leaves you without a place of refuge."

"Like I would know," she muttered to herself.

"What?"

"Nothing." She forced another smile. "I'm just gonna run to the machine." She motioned to the bank in view out the deli's front windows with the walk-up ATM.

"The usual?" he asked as she turned to leave.

"Yeah, for both of us."

"We've got red velvet cake today!" he called as she opened the door.

"No!" she called back. "I'm watching my sweets."

"What about Josh?"

"If I have to suffer then so does he," she smiled and stepped into the street.

Karim laughed and turned to the grill, determined to have Donna's order ready to go by the time she got back.

She jogged over to the walk-up ATM and inserted her card, squinting at the afternoon sun that was shining directly on the front of the building and causing a wicked glare from the screen. She could barely make out the words on the screen, but she practically had the screen layout memorized anyway.

Which was why she looked at it in confusion when it made an unusual beeping noise at her and stopped responding to any input. She shielded the screen with her hands and leaned close to read it.

"'Card deemed invalid and retained by ATM. Please call customer service at ...' Son of a —"

She jabbed the "cancel" button several more times with her finger threateningly, then swore under her breath. So it now qualified as an extremely bad week. She checked her watch. Three minutes before 5. Well, unfortunately for some poor unsuspecting teller, their day was about to get worse just when they thought they were in the home stretch. This robot was going to give her card back if she had to pry it open with a crow bar. She turned and marched into the bank, oblivious to the consequences that quick decision would have, and unaware of just how bad the day was about to get...for a lot of people.

Because it was so near the close of business, there were only two customers in the lobby when she entered. One was just finishing up with the only open teller. The other was studiously filling out a deposit slip near the door.

The security guard, who'd been pacing slowly around the lobby, held the door for her when she entered and smiled. She forced a friendly "thank you" and smiled back. After all, she reminded herself, it wasn't his fault. It was just that the fates were conspiring against her this week.

She approached the counter and the teller asked for the hundredth time that day, "How may I help you?" Her will to be overly friendly had long since waned.

"Well, I was using the ATM outside," Donna gestured over her shoulder toward the door. "And it ate my card."

"I'm sorry. Did you enter the wrong PIN number?" The woman said absent-mindedly as she pulled out a form and started going through the checklist.

"No," Donna said. "Everything was fine, right up until the moment when it ate my card."

"Did you try to overdraw on your account?"

"Did I try to...what kind of question—" Donna started.

"They're just the questions on the form, ma'am. I have to ask them," the woman said in monotone.

"Okay. Look, I understand that there is procedure, and you've got to do this by a certain...thing and everything but I am going to be able to get it back today, right? I mean it's a machine error and I really can't be without my card all weekend."

"If we can get all our questions answered, we should be able to get it back for you," the teller said, a bit of understanding creeping into her voice. "When was the last time you were able to use it successfully?"

Donna was busy trying to remember, trying to race the clock, trying to do a million things at once, so she didn't hear the older security guard politely having a conversation with two men entering the lobby.

"I'm sorry gentlemen, the bank has closed for the day and we're only helping customers already in line," the older security guard said kindly. "If you'd like to use the automated teller or come back in the morning after 8 a.m. —"

He'd lifted his arm to gesture toward the walk-up ATM, and the customer who'd been working on his deposit slip at the nearby counter took the opportunity to grab the gun from the guard's holster in a motion so swift it caught the older man completely by surprise.

The two men at the front entrance were anything but surprised, however, pulling large guns of their own out of their jackets. "Get in there," the taller one growled. The security guard's face went blank, and he slowly stepped back into the lobby.

It was the jingling of the keys as they turned in the front door that caught the teller's attention. She and Donna were still going through the form, so they couldn't start shutdown procedures for the night. "Fred, I've still got a cus— " she looked up from the counter and her face went white.

Donna turned without thinking to see what had gotten the teller's attention, and her heart dropped into her stomach.

The security guard was walking slowly into the lobby, face drawn, hands up by his shoulders. The man from the deposit counter and the taller man from the front door were behind him. One had the guard's own gun trained on him. The other swung his on the lobby at large.

Oh God, Donna thought. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

"Okay everybody, there's no need to panic," the taller one said as the third man locked the door with the guard's keys. "This is going to be over really quickly and no one is going to get hurt at all, because everyone's going to cooperate."