Author's Note: Hey everybody! This one's coming out a little later than usual, thanks to a middle-of-the-day birthday party at the bowling alley. Even when you're not throwing the party, that many small children can be pretty exhausting. A couple more notes at the end of this one, hope you enjoy the story!

…...

Donna stayed late at work that night, though late was a very relative term in the Russell White House. Back in her Bartlet Administration days, she'd have had to beg, bribe or fight Josh to be allowed to take off at 7:30, but tonight she was the last senior staffer out the door. She dawdled for a few minutes amongst the last remnants of the press corps still writing their stories, shooting the breeze and carefully maintaining the rapport that CJ had always seemed to cultivate so effortlessly. Donna didn't have a helpful Danny Concannon in the room to reliably pass along insider info, so she had to rely on a much looser network of friendly antagonists. Fruit baskets and cookie plates, she'd discovered, worked pretty well in the press room as well, though they could only go to the corps en masse lest she be accused of bribery.

Nobody had anything earth-shattering to pass along, so she drove home by way of the grocery store, picking up a stack of healthy frozen dinners, a pint of raspberry chocolate swirl ice cream, a pound of coffee, and a loaf of bread. That was the extent of her kitchen usage these days, despite what she told her mother regularly on the phone. A night in sweats and fuzzy slippers, with a bowl of ice cream and the television firmly on a non-news channel seemed like a little slice of heaven. Of course she should've known that things weren't going to end up like that.

Press Secretaries didn't pull down salaries that were particularly impressive for the private sector, but President Russell believed in rewarding loyalty where he could. All his senior staffers made the maximum White House salary, which was much, much more than she'd made in her previous jobs. The boost had allowed her to move into a small but adorable two-bedroom place in Adams-Morgan, in a building with a doorman to keep out any especially pesky reporters. She was quite surprised, therefore, to arrive on her floor and find Josh sitting next to her doorway, legs extended to block most of the hallway, pecking industriously at his Blackberry with one index finger.

He looked up when he heard her coming. "They said you guys were keeping banker's hours in this administration. I thought you'd be here hours ago. Where've you been?"

Donna sighed. The absolute last thing she wanted to deal with tonight was probably something in the natural disaster or national tragedy category, but Josh Lyman was still way up close to the top of the list. "Working," she told him shortly, "and shopping. You shouldn't be here."

Josh climbed to his feet, trying out his master-politician grin on her. "Your doorman let me up. It's a company town, Donna, everybody knows the movers and shakers."

"And you passed him a ten and promised not to be an ax murderer," Donna surmised flatly. He looked slightly embarrassed. "But that's not what I meant." The two bags of groceries pulled at her arm, but she didn't set them down, hoping she could send him on his way and go inside.

"Look, I came to apologize," he began quickly, as though trying to get all the words said before she tossed him out on his ear. "Believe it or not, I had a plan going into last night, and I screwed the whole thing up, and spent the rest of the night kicking myself about it." His face was earnest now, and seemed honestly apologetic, and that was much harder to resist than the cocky grin.

She studied him for a moment, till he was shifting from foot to foot. "What, exactly, did you want to apologize for?" she asked cautiously.

"Pretty much everything," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But mostly for anything I said that might have given you the impression that I don't admire everything you've accomplished, or that I think you're not capable of handling your own life, and probably my life and everybody else's lives as well if you wanted to. I meant to congratulate you right away on everything you did last year and everything you're doing now, but I sort of got derailed from the beginning."

Donna had to admit that was a strong opening, as apologies went, and a lot more than she'd honestly expected. There was sweetness and intuition buried in amongst all the cockiness and swagger, and sometimes she forgot to give him credit for that. But it still wasn't enough. "What derailed you?" If they were going to have another Russell-flavored throwdown, better to have it now.

To her surprise, he looked even more uncomfortable. "This isn't exactly a conversation I anticipated having in your hallway. Could we talk somewhere a little more private?" He glanced towards her door.

She pursed her lips and considered. "There's a little wine bar down the street, we can get a booth and talk. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."

"But I thought-"

"I'm not letting you in my house right now," she told him flatly. It felt sort of good to be the one doing the interrupting for once. "If this turns south again, I'm not going to be anywhere that I can't just walk away."

He ran a hand through his already-tousled hair, looking as confused and wrong-footed as if she'd just told him she was voting Republican now. "Yeah, okay," he finally agreed, surprising her. "That's fair. Um, here." He reached down to the floor behind him, picking up a slightly wilted bunch of mixed spring flowers. "These are for you. Part of the apology thing, but you probably need to get them in water pretty soon."

Donna juggled her bags and took the flowers, allowing herself one good sniff. Flowers were always prettier in the middle of winter. "Thank you," she told him. "They're beautiful."

"Um, fifteen minutes then?" he asked, jerking his head towards the elevator. She nodded in reply. "Okay, see you there." Donna watched him walk away before letting herself into her apartment, all thoughts of a quiet evening gone.

Fifteen minutes was not a lot of time to prepare for anything, but Donna was nothing if not efficient. She trimmed the flowers and put them in a vase, put away her groceries and freshened her makeup, all while checking her phone messages and eating a bread-and-butter sandwich that would keep the wine from knocking her on her ass too quickly. She debated a quick strategy call to CJ, but that would probably take too long, especially with CJ likely snarled in LA rush-hour traffic. Shrugging out of her suit jacket left her clad in a strappy maroon top and black skirt, not really too bad for a night out in Adams-Morgan, especially when she tossed on a long silver necklace and slightly showier earrings. Why was she even dressing up for this, she wondered even as she did it. It was all about power, really. If she felt strong, she could be strong.

The wine bar was less than five minutes away, so even on foot she was there on time, glancing around for Josh. He'd secured a coveted corner booth, she wasn't about to ask how, that would supply all the privacy they needed as long as both of them remembered not to start yelling. Which, well, maybe a fifty-fifty shot. She slid into the single curved booth opposite him, keeping most of the table between them. "I ordered us some wine and appetizers," he told her. "I'm starving. You can get whatever else you want when she comes back."

"That's fine," she replied politely, unfolding her napkin and setting it on her lap. "I think we were in the middle of something."

"You wanted to know why things derailed last night." Josh rubbed his hands over his face in obvious discomfort. Now would be the time she'd usually expect him to start deflecting, making jokes, turning the conversation to a different and more favorable track. Instead, he plowed forward. "I saw you across the restaurant, and I couldn't believe how different you were," he admitted. "I mean, I've seen you on television, god knows, but in person it's like a punch in the gut. Sometimes I think of you and I remember how you were when I hired you back on the Bartlet campaign, and how you used to follow me around and absorb everything I had to say. You've changed so much since then, and seeing you... it just about knocked me over." The wine arrived, and he let the waiter pour it before taking a gulp like it was water.

Donna left hers untouched, lacing her fingers together tightly in her lap. "You can't get used to the idea that I'm not your assistant anymore," she summarized coolly. "You don't know how to cope in a relationship where I'm not your subordinate."

"No!" he exclaimed in frustration, smacking his hand lightly against the table. "That's- that's the exact opposite of what I'm trying to say!" She watched as he regrouped and tried again. "Right from the moment I hired you, I knew there was... something, between us. A spark." He looked at her like he was afraid she was going to deny it. She said nothing. "I don't think I've ever been as instantly connected with anybody. But you were my assistant, and you were incredibly young, and incredibly vulnerable, so it was easy- well, not easy," he amended, "but possible to ignore all of that and treat you like a coworker and a friend. And things changed, and you changed, but I kept holding onto that image of you because I needed it to keep me from doing anything I couldn't take back that might cost me you or cost us our jobs. You did outgrow me," he admitted quietly. "I just wouldn't let myself see it."

"So when you saw me last night?" she prompted softly, not quite ready to hope, not at all sure how she ought to feel.

"When I saw you last night, that old image was blown away," he told her, his voice equally quiet. "You've come into your own, Donna, and suddenly you were standing there, my equal at the very least, and it changed everything." Josh scrubbed at his hair again, ruefully. "And you know how well I cope with sudden change."

Donna laughed softly and let her fingers uncurl. "Not so well," she allowed. "You sometimes need to throw a little tantrum."

"It's not exactly my best feature." He set aside his wineglass and leaned across the table. "Donna, even if you've outgrown me and we're never going to be anything more than friends, it's killing me to think you don't know how proud I am or how much I admire everything you've done."

She picked up her glass and took several small sips, trying to clear a sudden thickness from her throat. "I... wow," she managed with a little smile. "That's a lot to take in all at once."

"You want a mushroom?" he offered, pushing the plate of appetizers they'd been ignoring in her direction."

That drew another laugh from her because there was the Josh she knew, awkward even in his earnestness, maybe especially then, but still very hard to resist. She took a fried mushroom, mostly to buy herself a couple more seconds to organize her thoughts. It was crunchy and salty, and hot enough to nearly burn her mouth. "You're right about the spark," she finally told him, choosing her words as carefully as she could. "I felt it too, right away. I just didn't think you did, and you're right that it would've been the worst possible time. I still treasure the years we worked together, even with the way they ended. You taught me more than I could've learned anywhere else, and just being around you made all the long days and nights worth it. Part of the reason I left was because I wanted more from you, and I didn't think I was ever going to be able to have that."

His eyes widened at that revelation. "I never knew... we wasted a lot of time."

"I don't know," she admitted with a shrug. "I'm not entirely proud of the way I left; I could've served out my notice even if I couldn't talk to you about it, and I wish we'd been able to say goodbye properly, but I really did need to go. I've learned a lot about myself the past two years, things I couldn't have learned from you or with you."

She saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, though he was a politician too and automatically concealed it. "And what about now?"

"I'm not sure," she told him simply, honestly. "It means a lot to me to hear that you're proud of what I've done, but I'm still not going to quit and work with you. I love my job."

"I know." He ran a hand over his face. "Honest to god, I was spitballing there. The idea of being with you but not working with you, it's hard to even imagine."

Donna smiled a little. "Lots of people do it," she pointed out. "Most people."

"Yeah, but since when are we most people?" he asked with a half-smirk. He was quiet for a second, studying his wineglass. "Do you think I should go to work for Russell?" It still wasn't "President Russell," but he sounded amazingly sincere.

She arched a brow. "What would you do if I said yes?"

"Probably invest in a gag of some sort for myself," he admitted, "and then get myself up to the White House."

Donna pursed her lips and watched him watching her. "I don't think you should," she finally said. "You wouldn't be happy there, and you don't do your best work when you're not doing it for something you believe in. It would be great to work with you again, and I'm sure you'd get the job done, but that's not enough." He was nodding already when she dropped the bomb on him with a smile. "Besides, President Russell is talking about letting me go up to the Hill and bring order to chaos, he probably wouldn't need me to do that if you were there."

Josh grinned. "If he sends you to the Hill, it'll be the smartest thing he's done since taking office. You'll whip them into shape in no time."

She grinned back, warmed by the praise and not afraid of the feeling this time. "I had a good teacher."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," he teased.

She reached out and smacked his arm lightly. "You know it was you."

"I am a master politician," he agreed modestly. She just smiled at him over the edge of her wineglass. "So what does this mean?" he ventured. "If we aren't working together, but we're in the same town, and we have this spark thing?"

Donna shrugged, running her finger along the rim of her glass. "I guess it means we have a chance to start over," she offered. "It's been two years, maybe that's long enough to let go of any of the old bad stuff and do it right."

Josh nodded thoughtfully. "So I guess that makes this our first date."

"This is a pre-date," she corrected him archly. "Camping out in my hallway to ambush me for drinks dosn't count as asking me out."

"Maybe, but it worked," he pointed out, grinning.

"Next time I want a phone call at least twenty-four hours in advance, and dinner reservations," she decreed, unable to stop the smile pulling at the corners of her own mouth.

"You drive a hard bargain. Can I at least walk you home tonight?" Josh tossed some money down on the table and stood, offering her his arm."

"That sounds nice." She slid out of the booth and put on her coat, then took his arm. Even through the thick fabric he felt warm against her body. They walked out together.

…...

Author's Other Note: And that marks the end of this story for now, though it's not impossible I'll pick it up again later. Given that it was originally a 900-word short fic with no plans for sequels, anything could happen. But I have other multi-chapter projects on my mind, which means winding down a few of my current WIPs before I start anything new. :)