When Sam lectured him and demanded he take a vacation, at first he knew he had to do it because he needed Sam to be his deputy, and, judging by his ultimatum, that was the only way to get him to sign on. Then, by the time he was talking to the president-elect, he knew he had to do it for himself. Just the thought of getting away from all this for a little while had calmed him down. Sam was right – he wasn't at his best. He was exhausted, he was starving (when was the last time he ate real food?) his mind was constantly spinning, he was easily irritated, monomaniacal apparently, he was stressed to the point he was lashing out at Otto and he'd become one of those guys who can't be without their cell phone for ten minutes. Before he was even out of the building, though, he knew he also had to do it for Donna. He was stretching himself so thin that he couldn't even carve out a space in four weeks (three weeks, six days) to figure out what was going on with them? When he'd been waiting for something to go on with them for nine years?

If he let her slip away now, that would be it. Her unwavering dedication to the four-week timeline was clear (three weeks, six days, she'd shot back at him when he tried to tell her four weeks wasn't enough time to figure this out in the midst of everything going on). He knew she was serious, and he didn't think she was going to be too forgiving or willing to give second chances if he missed the four-week window.

There was another time she kept asking him for a small chunk of his time for a meeting and when he didn't make it a priority, she left. He had to have learned something here.

In the back of his mind, he remembers Leo and the toll this job had taken on him – his health, his marriage. He'd tried to tell Sam that people can do this and have marriages. Sam had scoffed at him, because this job can take over your life. If he has a prayer of making anything with Donna work, he has to figure out some kind of balance.

When he approaches Donna later, she's weary and he knows this is because of how he's been acting lately. She's not sure what to expect from him, plus after he'd tried to tell her he didn't have the time to think about them earlier today, she was probably worried what excuse he had lined up for her next.

"Hey," he says gently, letting his tone speak to his current state of mind. "I yelled at Otto," he begins. Things had happened so fast today, he hadn't had a chance to think about what he was going to say to her, no time to practice a speech. He'd rushed around, still buzzing from the Red Bull, trying to figure out how to manage getting this vacation scheduled.

She quirks an eyebrow, and then frowns, because she has no idea what this means. "Why?"

"For no reason, really," he says with a sigh. He knows he's not making any sense, and he really doesn't want to replay the conversation with Otto because he feels that embarrassed about how he acted. He should say something to Otto before he leaves, clear the air. "Sam said I'm nowhere near my best right now. He doesn't want to work with me if I'm like this. I don't blame him, really."

Donna's recent conversation with the president-elect replays in her mind, the worry he had about Josh's recent behavior. Josh starts digging around in his pocket and she's really not sure what to expect him to come up with – these days, it could be anything.

He's handing her a piece of paper and when she unfolds it, she realizes it's airline tickets. He's going out of town? He's got someone else to go convince to join his staff? For a moment, she's irritated. He'd told her in four weeks he can't get a handle on what's going on with them, but suddenly he has time for –

"Come with me," he says, so softly, his eyes shining with excitement like he's finally figured out the answer to everything. He takes her hands and adds, "Please." She's so taken aback she doesn't know what to say. She's honestly more surprised by this gesture than his flirtatious tone in Houston as they drank their glasses of scotch. "I really want you to come with me. We can talk – about us – no interruptions, we can just figure this out. Spend time together. No work, nothing."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Josh Lyman?" she jokes, trying to process everything he's throwing at her. She can't believe he's asking her on a vacation in the middle of transition and that he's not running away from the talk. She feels a sense of hope. He doesn't even respond to her quip, he just stands there looking at her nervously, expectantly. "Okay. Yes," she tells him. Really, what the hell else would she say?

"You won't regret this," he assures her, a huge grin spilling across his face. "You and me, a week in the sun, on the beach, at the pool. Time together to talk. And not

talk."

She smirks and feels a little thrill at his words, then she glances at the tickets and yelps, "Tonight?!"

As the plane takes off, Josh stares out the window, thoughtfully. This is the first time in who knows how long that he doesn't have his Blackberry in his hand (except for, of course, when Otto was charging it earlier today). He's left everything at the office – laptop, Blackberry, paperwork. He doesn't really even know what to do with his hands without checking his phone every few minutes. He momentarily wonders what's going on at the office. He watches Washington DC get smaller and smaller as they ascend into the air.

Everyone was right. The universe had been coming at him repeatedly to nudge him in the right direction. Amy told him it was time and gave him a name of someone to call, so he wouldn't spend his life old and alone. Donna had called him monomaniacal, and not in a complimentary way. Sam kept praising his life in California and how he actually got to have a life, one which Lou had told Josh pointedly that he didn't have. Donna had been forcing him to figure them out, to have the talk with her (or, not, and just let it go), and wasn't about to let him off the hook and extend his four-week deadline. Without the vacation he might have put the job in front of her and let it all slip away.

So here they were on a flight to Hawaii, just six hours later. He still can't believe the whirlwind that was this day. When he woke up this morning, there's no way he would have believed it if someone had told him he'd be going on vacation for a week that night.

She's flipping through pages of the in-flight magazine, humming to herself softly. He watches her for a moment. She looks good. She doesn't look stressed. A few moments ago she'd been mentally running through what she'd packed in her suitcase and what she may have forgotten, but he seemed to get her to relax when he told her they wouldn't be needing too many clothes anyway. She's happy about her new job offer and she seems to be happy at what this gesture of the vacation means for them. He glances back out the window and notices that he can't see DC anymore.

He turns to her and traces a soft pattern on her leg. "Should we talk?" he asks. He hadn't been planning on saying that right now, but suddenly he wants to say everything.

She looks surprised and lets go of the magazine, the pages falling closed. "Now?"

He shrugs. It seems a good a time as any to him. On the airplane, work literally disappearing behind him, he knows what he wants to focus on. In Hawaii he wants to focus on Donna (and maybe, getting some sleep. And eating some real food). He doesn't want this conversation lingering between them, making things uncertain. "Well, sure. I only have three weeks and six days left. It's about to be knocked down to five."

She chuckles softly. "You know, we're changing time zones. You get to earn a few hours back."

"I don't need them," he says, surprising himself.

"You want to talk on the plane? You can't hide on here."

"I don't want to hide," he tells her simply.

The fact he had decided to take this vacation, and then wanted her to come with him, had been a good sign. But she was still a little bit nervous about the words. "Okay."

"Look, I…" he runs his hand through his hair as he tries to figure out how to say this in the simplest way possible without saying the wrong thing once again, the way he kept doing since Election Day. "The White House can't be my life anymore."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Josh, you do know you're about to be Chief of Staff?"

"Yeah. I know. But the job can't be everything anymore," he says. "Everyone keeps talking about a life. And you… I don't even have to question that. I want to do this with you."

She grins, surprised at how easily the words come from his mouth, how sure and confident he is.

"You want to have a life?" she repeats.

"Yes."

"And you want our relationship to be a part of said life?"

"Probably the majority of it, but yeah," he confirms. "I mean I'm not looking to also take up a bunch of hobbies or racquetball or anything."

"Okay."

There's silence, and he feels like he should say more, but he doesn't want to make it overly complicated. He doesn't know if her okay means okay, she wants this too or okay, she understands his point. "If, you know… you want to," he adds, suddenly insecure.

She smiles at him softly and rubs his forearm. "Josh. Do you think I'd be on this airplane if I didn't want to?"

"It's not going to be perfect, Donna," he tells her, truthfully. "The job… it… will come first sometimes."

"I know that," she assures him. This truly hadn't even been a worry in her mind. She knows what it's bound to be like. There's no way she's worked in the White House for seven years, watched how things worked, without understanding that anyone in the White House, let alone the Chief of Staff to the President, lives a normal life with normal working hours.

"But it's not going to come first all the time," he clarifies. "I know it sounds crazy for me to tell you that, because you know how much I put into this job. I can't promise you that there won't be nights I work late and I can guarantee you that I'll cancel plans on you at the last minute sometimes, probably the last second, because I have to work instead. Even though I know you understand I'm sure you'll still be mad about it sometimes. We'll probably argue when the First Lady and the President don't agree on their agenda, I'll forget more than one thing I should remember, I don't know when we'll ever get a vacation again, and it is possible the Blackberry will come to bed at some point. Oh, and we're going to have a secret service agent following our every move come January."

"I'm not worried about all that," she insists. "I get all that." What she had been worried about was what this was to him, what this meant to him and the fact that he'd just referenced their being together throughout his tenure as chief of staff seemed to answer her questions. "Besides, I'm more worried about you running your health into the ground by trying to survive on a cocktail of Starbucks, Red Bull, and antacids and less than three hours of sleep a night. That, you can't do to me. No excuses."

He understands, he really does, because he'd just been thinking about Leo and his health and the toll this job had taken on him. Josh knows Leo had health problems before the job, but he also hadn't seen Leo try to survive solely on caffeine and no sleep before he even took the position so he nods as he looks out the window momentarily. "Yeah. I know."

"I know you can't control it all, but you've got to eat better – or, eat, period - and slow down a little bit. Delegate. You've got Sam there for a reason. Get some sleep when you have the opportunity instead of working more just for sport. And," she lowers her voice, thankful that the aisle seat next to them is empty despite the pretty full flight. "You should probably have a very healthy sex life."

He chuckles at her words, taken aback from her lecture to her flirtatiousness. He wonders if this is actually real life, doing this with Donna? He continues tracing patterns on her leg and gently picks at her skirt. "Oh, yeah? Think you know someone who can help with that?"

"Maybe I do." There's a beat and she adds, "You know, I heard Sarah's available if you want to give her a call."

He groans, throwing his head back against the headrest, "Donna."

She smirks and adds, "Just some incentive to come home sometimes."

"Incentive or bribe?"

She bites her lip and grins at him, throwing him a wink. "Whatever works." She leans in to kiss him softly, her lips lingering. She sighs and returns to her seat, feeling lighter after the conversation. "I took the job," she adds, out of nowhere. In her rush to pack her bags and prepare for a week-long trip in the space hours, she'd managed to find the time to call Mrs. Santos and accept her offer.

He reaches out and takes her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "Good for you."

"I'm still not sure I really have the qualifications, but…"

"You're gonna be amazing," he tells her softly, sincerely. "When you quit," he knows he needs to say this, too. "I wasn't – I didn't get it, that you wanted more, like you wanted to do something like this. In case you haven't noticed I've had trouble separating work from the rest of my life and when you quit I didn't see you leaving a job. I saw you leaving my life."

"You also didn't want me on the campaign…" she notes.

"That was me being monomaniacal and focused anything that could even potentially set the campaign back. No matter how much I missed you. That's what this is about," he gestures around the airplane. "Less tunnel vision. I'm sorry. About all that."

"I'm sorry I quit like that."

He waves her off and leans over to kiss her. "You deserve this job and I swear to God, Donnatella Moss, I'm completely serious when I say this: I hope you blow me off for work sometimes too, just because you want, to work because you deserve to really soak up this opportunity."

She doesn't know why this comment makes her grin so much, but it really does and she laughs. "I think that's the sexiest thing you've ever said to me."

"Just wait until we get to Hawaii."