You look cute in your pyjamas

I knew she would find out. I don't know how, but I knew. Ever since Will said that he would take full responsibility. Ever since he said that he didn't want anyone to feel indebted to him. Even though they are. I suspect that boy would do a lot more if it was needed though. The way he looked at Lizzie in Wales. The was he looks when you mention her name. He is all in, and yet would rather she didn't know.

"I just don't understand," she says down the line. "I mean, I thought we'd never see them again. I thought that George would run a hundred miles in the opposite direction, and yet they turn up and they buy a house, like, an hour and a half away from here, and then they're all happy and family…you know. And now she says that it was Will? I really thought…" She trails off and sighs. "I don't know what I thought," she says eventually.

"I know you didn't think much of him, but you didn't have such low expectations, did you?"

"Yes? I don't know. I just had convinced myself of all the tragedy. I mean, I knew he had run at the first signs of trouble with someone else, and as soon as I put up any barriers, he disappeared." She pauses. "Maybe he was always going to turn up. Maybe it was always going to be all right…"

"Well, yes sweetheart. It doesn't do to linger over these doubts and…"

"But what about Will?" she butts in. "I thought it was you and Phil?"

"Look," I say, carefully, "Will came to see us just a few nights after we got back. He said that he had found them out and had talked to George, and sorted it out. He was going to buy a house for them in Huntsville, see that Lydia graduated, and that George had work, but he didn't want to take the credit."

"He lied?" she asks, with almost comedic incredulity.

I almost laugh. It is, however, not the time. "He didn't want you or any of your family to feel indebted to him. He didn't want anything in return and…"

"But we just thought we were indebted to you instead! We were worried about how you could have coped doing it what with Aksel at Yale, and all the other kids to consider."

"He thought you wouldn't accept it coming from him. You took it while you thought it came from family."

She is silent again for a moment. "I still don't get it."

"He wanted to help, and he had the resources."

"But how did he even get them to come back? Or even find them in the first place?"

"He said something about the benefits of being good friends with the White House Chief of Staff, and as for them coming back, I'd guess it had something to do with his paying debts and clearing the way."

She is silent again for a moment. "I guess it would have been hard for George to turn up having whisked Lyds away, and then reveal he had nothing to offer."

"I don't think he's a monster, you know," I say, somewhat carefully. "I think he's impetuous and that he doesn't think. That he's proud and hates to be judged, and maybe these things have made him act foolishly in the past. But you know what?"

"What?" she asks in a small voice.

"I think he loves Lydia, and will make a good go of this."

She is quiet, until she takes a deep breath. "OK," she says.

"And if not, you appear to have friends who know the CIA, so, you know…"

I can hear the smile in her voice. "Yeah," she says. "OK. Thank you."

"We'll talk soon, all right?"

"OK. Love to the rabble."

"And to yours. Love you sweetheart."

After two weeks of quick decisions, big decisions, and a whole shed load of un-dealt-with jet lag, Will had thought that he had earned a lie in. With Georgiana staying just for the next few days, he had thought that she could field all calls, answer the door, bring in the papers. He had thought that for once, just once, he could get some rest. He thought it but he was wrong.

"Will?" George calls through the door, interspersed with knocking. "Will?" More knocking. "Will?"

"You sound like that guy on Big Bang Thingy."

"Theory," she says, leaning round the door. "You sleep with some kind of clothes on, right?"

Her question is answered as Will levers himself out of bed, clad in pyjama bottoms.

"Good. There's someone here for you."

He had disappeared into the bathroom, but he reappears in the doorway, toothbrush wedged in mouth. "You couldn't tell them to come back later?" he asks, marginally avoiding spitting toothpaste at her.

"It's important."

He rolls his eyes, but disappears back inside the bathroom. "It had better be," he growls, post spitting. Running a hand over his wild bed hair, he lifts the old towelling robe from the door, pulls it around his shoulders, then heads for the stairs.

"Ah…you might want to wear a little…um…"

He raises an eyebrow. "It's before seven. Anyone calling this early is lucky to even see me awake, let alone standing up." He turns down the stairs saying "tell them I'll be there in a sec. I need coffee right now."

"But…" George gives up and follows him down, disappearing into the front room.

The kitchen tiles are cold under his feet, and Will resorts to waiting for the coffee to make itself, sitting on the cabinet, rubbing his eyes. Finally, it drips enough in for a mugful, and he pours it out, picks it up and pads across the icy floor to the front room.

"Will Darcy," says a low voice from the corner of the couch. "I hadn't realised that it's casual dress day."

Only just managing not to drop his full, steaming mug of coffee, Will swallows the rising feeling of embarrassment and horror, and holds out a hand in greeting to the man he used to dream of meeting. "Mr Fox," he says. "I hadn't realised it was you."

Matt Fox laughs and shakes the proffered hand. "Otherwise you might have put some more clothes on, right?"

Will stops himself from groaning, sits down opposite Matt and takes a scalding sip of coffee. "Yes sir," he says. "Would you like anything to drink or eat or…"

"Son, I've clearly disturbed your sister from her practice of some kind and woken you up. I'm absolutely fine."

Will holds up his mug. "There's clearly already coffee on. It's no trouble."

He smiles. "Coffee, straight up, would be great."

"I'm on it," says George, quietly, and she slips out of the room..

Will smiles a little, ruefully, tugging his robe closed. "I'm sorry I wasn't really prepared to…uh…"

"It's quite all right," he says, grinning. "Why should you keep such unsociable hours if you're not working? You're not working," he adds, "are you?"

"Uh, no sir. I took a few weeks off after the convention to get things sorted out."

He smiles again. "Well, you've been mighty hard to find. Especially," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "since you have been eluding all calls and emails."

Will grimaces a little. "I was getting somewhat inundated for a few weeks, so I've only been replying to what is absolutely necessary."

"You didn't think that your party's presidential campaign was absolutely necessary?"

Will says nothing for a second, and is saved by the re-emergence of George with coffee and a plate of Danishes. 'Thank you' he mouths to her, and she winks, carefully so that Matt won't see, yet not very helpfully and certainly a little lasciviously, before disappearing from the room.

Choosing to ignore the silence of moments before, Matt continues, saying, "I had heard you were back in the country these past few weeks."

He shifts and rolls his mug between his palms, before finally saying, "I had some personal business to deal with. Just things that needed doing, but it's pretty much sorted now…"

"Good. So are you ready to get back to work?"

"On the campaign?"

Matt grins and leans forward. "We've got a lot to do, and not a lot of time, and we need you."

Will starts. "For what?"

"To replace me."

I had foolishly thought that there would be no one looking more haggard and sleep deprived than me. Except maybe Donna. After all, I may be working late, then waking to two AM screams for feeds, but she is looking after the girls all day, all evening, then wakes when I get in late, then gets up to feed. So maybe she has the right to look worse, although I'm not convinced. However, Will Darcy, who has, let's face it, been on holiday for several weeks, has no right to look that bad. None whatsoever.

"Did you get run over by a truck?"

"Josh!" Donna whacks my arm. It used to be playful, scolding taps. Well, right at the beginning. From about two months into meeting me she stopped worrying too much. Now, she could take out Iron Man.

"OW!...Well he looks like he did…"

"Come in, Will," she says, and drags him through from the hall to the kitchen. "Have a seat." She manhandles him to the kitchen table and onto the bench. "Coffee?" she asks, and doesn't wait for a reply before switching the machine back on.

"Seriously, Donna…I'm not that bad," he says. "How are you doing, new baby and all?"

She turns round and leans against the counter top. "Oh we're all right," she says, somewhat underplaying our distinct lack of sleep. "It would be easier if Claudie had reacted better."

He smiles. "Not enjoying being a big sister?"

"Not enjoying would be the understatement of the century."

Donna glances across at me and rolls her eyes. "It's not like she's drawing battle lines. She's just not very sure about Harriet yet."

Will nods slowly. "Yeah, I remember Sam reacting like that with Lucy and Bella. It should pass. Until then, however," he says, "I thought this might help." He pulls out from his jacket pocket a soft, knitted bunny, a smaller version, I'm sure, of one he gave Claudie when she was born.

"Oh, Will" says Donna, and takes the bunny from him. "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugs. "It's not much."

Donna starts at the sound of the baby monitor, and heads off up the stairs, bunny in hand. I pour Will his coffee and say, "so, what did you want?"

Will leans back against the wall and rubs a hand across his neck. "Matt Fox visited me this morning."

"Are you going to take the job?"

He frowns. "You knew?"

I attempt to not look too smug. "I recommended you."

"Josh…"

"And then allegedly Sam jumped in there and pretty much did a Samba in your honour."

Will looks at me steadily, and yet a little nonplussed. "A Samba?"

"Yep, and then Jane…Bennet, is it, also weighed in. She was on the Bingley campaign, right?"

"Yes," he says, wearily.

"Oh, and then Bingley said that if you were in charge he would definitely come on board."

"Charles?"

"Sam is leading the campaign for him to be Director of Communications."

Will blinks heavily, takes a sip of coffee and rubs his neck again. Eventually he says, "is this really happening? Matt Fox, my idol of political campaigning, is stepping down, so that I can replace him?"

I shrug. "He's brilliant, and that's why he knows when there is someone better. You're taking on the youngest Republican candidate in years, with another Jed Bartlett. Zimmerman may be the greatest political thinker and speaker that we've seen in a long time, but if Jane Braun is half the campaigner that I think she is, she'll skew everything to show how young and vigorous O'Connell is. Zimmerman needs to be the wise, experienced, mature, brilliant centre that he is to a vibrant and youthful campaign. I mean, Sam's already carrying a lot of that as his running mate, but it won't hurt to have the chief of staff as a thirty-something brilliant political mind."

Will's gaze has become sceptical. "And how young and vigorous do I look right now, you know, having been hit by a truck?" He leans back against the wall, his head thumping against Claudie's newest drawing of the White House. "Hell," he mutters and reaches up to rub his head.

"You're plenty young and vigorous," I say. "Stop getting your pants in a bunch, and just tell him you'll do it."

"You think?" he asks, slumped against the wall.

At that, Donna comes back in with Harriet curled up and snoozing in her arms, and Claudie, clad in her footsie pyjamas, clutching the bunny and smiling shyly.

"Claudie got woken up by Harriet, so I gave her your present Will. What do you say, sweetheart?"

Claudie scuffs her way to standing next to Will. "Thank you," she says, and squishes the bunny's face onto his leg, before skipping out to the hall.

"I think that was the bunny kissing you," I say, as Donna calls to Claudie to now get back into bed. She turns, and Harriet squirms, unsettled.

"Here," says Donna. "You have a go," and she passes Harriet into Will's arms.

For a few seconds she flails and squirms, but old practiced uncle that he is, he readjusts his hold, and settles back. Slowly, she stills, and curls up her fingers with handfuls of shirt beneath them.

"There," says Donna. "Now I can get on with dinner. You're staying, right?" she asks Will, and he smiles.

"Uh…OK," he says, "please", and looks back down at Harriet's sleeping face.

"See," I say, trying not so sound too triumphantly smug. "He's plenty youthful."

Don't get too excited. This does not mean we're going back to post-a-day. I am, however, out all day tomorrow. Therefore, it's a day early. That, and the chapter after the next is one of my favourites ( I know- lame, but true) and I was kind of jazzed at the prospect of getting it posted sooner. So. A bit of Will (and not a moment too soon) and some babies.

Thank you all, yet again. Be excellent to each other.