"You're asking me –"

"Well, apparently not very clearly."

"To be your Chief of Staff?"

"I think you are extremely capable, I feel that we have a report…"

"I'm… flattered, of course, but I'm not sure I have the requisite experience."

"Please, just think about it."
~~~~~

Chief of Staff. Mrs. Santos wanted her to be Chief of Staff.

Her. Donnatella Moss.

She was thrilled and more than a little giddy at the prospect.

As much as she enjoyed working with the press, Donna wanted to shape policy, not just talk about it. This position was offering her the chance to do exactly that, and not only the chance to shape it, but the chance to pursue and implement her very own agenda.

True, she wouldn't be working on as grand a scale as in the West Wing, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that she'd be working on all the things /she/ wanted -- all the things she and Josh had both wanted but had never had time to work on -- like foreign adoption policy and special education programs for kids with disabilities. Things that mattered and were important, but were constantly getting brushed aside by the crisis du jour. Things that she could now accomplish with the full support and backing of the White House.

Plus, the job would give her credence as a serious player in the Democratic party, give her the opportunity to do whatever she wanted when it came time to move on. It was tantamount to be given political carte blanche.

And as a bonus, she would still get to work with Josh. Not as his assistant, not as his subordinate, but as his equal. Two Chiefs of Staff. Mr. and Mrs. Chief of Staff.

She was still giggling at the thought when she walked into the war room.

"Hey," Josh said, bouncing up from his chair to meet her. "How did the interview with CNN go? Lou banned me from watching and I've been going nuts just–"

He trailed off when, instead of answering, she simply grinned at him.

"What?" he asked, his mouth quirking up on one side in a half-smile. "What's going on?"

"I have some news," Donna said, her own smile getting even wider.

"New York swung our way?" he guessed.

She laughed. "No. Better."

He raised an eyebrow. "Better? Donna, it's Election Day. It doesn't get any better. Unless you're telling me we've swept the industrial states, and even I'm realistic enough to know –"

"Mrs. Santos just offered me Chief of Staff."

Josh blinked stupidly at her for a moment. "She just…Wow. I was thinking maybe Deputy Press Secretary but… wow."

She smiled broadly at him. "I know."

"You'll be great," he enthused, pulling her into a big hug.

She couldn't keep the hint of uncertainty from her voice. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he said, hugging her tighter.

She relaxed into his embrace. "When she first asked, I didn't realize she actually wanted /me/ to fill the position, but --"

"Of course she wants you..." Abruptly, he pulled away from her, his eyebrows knitting together in a concerned V as he finished, "... to fill the position."

Donna frowned. "What?"

He didn't answer, but immediately grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the door.

"Josh! What on earth are you doing? The next exits will be --"

"We're going outside," he said in a rush, leading her up the emergency stairs.

"Why?"

"Because."

Which wasn't an answer at all, but given the death grip he had on her wrist, Donna didn't have much choice.

"Is this because of Mrs. Santos' offer?" she asked, wondering if he meant to selfishly try and talk her out of it so she could be on his own staff.

"Yes."

"I didn't realize you wanted me that badly as Press Secretary."

"Deputy," he corrected. "And it's not that. You'll make a great Chief of Staff. Nothing I could offer you would be half as good and we both know it." He swung the door open with a flourish and gave Donna a little push to propel her outside ahead of him.

She spun around to face him. "Then what?"

"Turn around and spit," he commanded, the look in his eyes deadly serious.

She groaned inwardly. For all the times she'd heard Toby or CJ or someone say it, she'd never once taken the superstition seriously. Besides, this was a job offer, not a declaration of victory, and as such wasn't enough to warrant such measures. She crossed her arms in front of her and shook her head. "No."

"Donna!"

"It's ridiculous, Josh."

She attempted to go around him and back to the stairs, but he steadfastly blocked her path, turning her around so she was once more facing the Houston skyline. "Just do it, Donna! The election is too close to jinx with premature offers and – Go!"

Obviously, nothing else was going to placate him. With a put-upon expression, she dutifully followed his directions and turned around three times. "Can we go back downstairs now?"

He shook his head and frowned at her. "You didn't spit."

She crinkled her nose up in distaste. "You seriously expect me to spit?"

"Yes."

"Josh."

"Donna."

"Fine." Walking to the guard rail, she made a face, then spit as delicately as possible onto the gravel that covered the roof. She turned back to him with questioning eyes.

"Thank you."

"I liked it better when you were hugging me in congratulations," she pouted as she walked back over to him.

"Yeah, well, I liked it better when you were propositioning me with sex to get me to relax, but I seem to remember someone not wanting to have any more 'weird moments' after Ronna and Edie showed up at our door," Josh complained.

"This wasn't weird?"

"This was preventive. To prevent…. you know, things," Josh countered. "Like premature job offers jinxing the entire election! I don’t care how fabulous the askee will be at the job, people can't go around asking before things are certain..."

He became animated, ranting on about the maintenance of a delicate karmic balance, but Donna found herself ignoring his words in favor of warming at his offhanded compliment.

The warming rapidly turned into something else, though. Maybe it was the way he waved his muscular arms around, or maybe it was the passion in his voice. Whatever it was, he was turning her on. Any lingering reservations she might have had about encountering some more weird moments were quickly disappearing in favor of anticipating another round of stress relief.

When he paused for breath, she took her chance. "You know, we still have a few hours to kill," she told him huskily. "And since everyone's so busy watching the news coverage, we might be able to try again…"

"Campaign Manager. Communications Director," Josh continued, completely ignoring the proposition. "What doesn't that woman get about the chain of command? I'm /her/ boss. She can't just tell me what to–"

She took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her. "Focus, Josh. Banned from the media. Time to kill. Your eager and willing fiancée right in front of you."

He stilled and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Really? You want to go again, even if it means another weird moment?"

"The law of averages gives me hope that we won't be interrupted again. And the MSNBC interview isn't for another twenty minutes."

"I could do a lot in twenty minutes," he told her with a leer, his arms circling her waist and pulling her closer.

"We both could," she whispered, leaning in and kissing his jaw.

"Mmmm…"

But just as she was about to press her lips to his, Ronna poked her head out the door. "Josh? Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know… They said you were out on the roof, but they didn't tell me you were up here with Donna."

"I'm on the roof with Donna," he intoned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"Apparently I was wrong. The law of averages /is/ against me," Donna muttered, reluctantly stepping away from his embrace.

Sighing, Josh let her go, then looked over at Ronna. "You needed something?"

"Gene and Bruce from the Transition team wanted to talk to you. Something about deciding on language for the acceptance speech."

"Not again," he exclaimed. "Doesn't anyone know not to jinx…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "Never mind. When?"

"Now."

"Fine, tell them I'll be right there." Ronna nodded and headed back down the stairs, letting the door bang shut behind her. Josh turned back to Donna. "Interrupt me after two minutes."

"With a status call?"

"Or make something up," he said, walking backwards towards the door.

"Maybe news about New York swinging our way."

"You need to spit again," he ordered, pointing back at the gravel. "And no cheating just because I'm heading downstairs."

"Fine, I'll spit," she laughed.

"And keep some time free after your MSNBC interview. I have every intention on picking up where we just left off."

She just smiled and watched as he disappeared from view. Then she did a little self-conscious twirl and spit again. Maybe it was just superstitious nonsense, but it never hurt to have a little extra protection.
~~~~~

"Hey what happened to you? Two minutes. 120 seconds. I was stuck in there with dull and duller counting beads on my imaginary abacus… Ohio? Texas? We won? We lost? We need a good lawyer? What?"
~~~~~

Josh stared through the window at Mallory, sitting beside Leo's bedside, her hand wrapped around his, her eyes focused on his still face. Her lips were moving and Josh supposed she was talking to her father, but he couldn't tell for sure. Still… that was one of the things they told you you were supposed to do, wasn't it? Talk to the patient, just in case they could hear your voice? It was one of the few things he remembered the doctors telling him when Donna had been in Germany.

Not that remembering that little gem of wisdom helped him much at the moment. They were restricting visitors to the ICU and Josh had only been able to see Leo briefly when they'd first transferred him in from the Emergency Room. Long enough to assure Josh that he was going to be ok, but not nearly long enough to alleviate any of Josh's guilt or worry.

What had he been thinking, encouraging Leo -- an aging alcoholic with a history of heart problems -- to join the ticket? Josh knew better. But he hadn't been thinking about that when Leo's name had been suggested. He'd been thinking about their chances in the election, about their need to have a really strong Democratic player on the ticket, about politics, about winning. Just like he always did.

And a tiny part of him had selfishly wanted to work with his friend and mentor again. Had wanted Leo to be proud of what he was doing, had wanted him to see his accomplishments up close and personal.

But not a single thought had been spared for how working on a national campaign would affect Leo. And now the guilt was eating Josh up inside.

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass window and took a deep breath, trying to calm his thoughts. It didn't much help, so he took another deep breath, and another, until with a frustrated puff, he gave up and simply leaned against the glass, letting all the worry and pain coalesce into a tight ball in his chest.

Donna found him still leaning up against the window a little while later. "Hey," she said quietly. "How is he?"

"Stable. They're only letting one person in at a time, so Mallory…" He stopped and lifted his head to look at her. "He's stable." He could hear the weariness in his own voice as he forced himself to ask, "The election?"

"They've called Ohio, Kansas and Louisiana," she informed him softly. "The results for Nebraska, North Dakota and South Dakota should be coming in soon."

"Texas?"

She shook her head. "Nothing yet."

He glanced down the hall, torn between his need to stay until he was sure that Leo was going to be all right and his duty to the campaign. "We should go back, find out about Texas, see if we can't rally some last minute –"

"Lou and Bram are handling things," she interrupted, rubbing her hand along his arm. "We can stay as long as we're needed."

He sighed and nodded. Not that he thought for a minute that they were actually needed here, but he appreciated what Donna was trying to do. "You talked to CJ?"

Donna nodded. "She'll inform the President."

"He's going to take it hard. She should talk to Mrs. Bartlet first."

"CJ knows. She'll take care of it." Donna offered him a small supportive smile. "How are /you/ doing?"

"Me?" he snarled, turning to face her fully as his anger at himself came rushing back. "I'm not the one lying on a hospital bed, too weak to turn my head or hold my daughter's hand, never mind get up and help run the country and… God!" He spun around, taking two angry steps away from her before twisting back in her direction. "What the hell was I thinking? Vice President? He resigned as Chief of Staff because of a major heart attack. Did I really think traveling non-stop around the country, visiting eight states in one day, would be good for him? That he was up to that kind of schedule? That another eight years full of fourteen-hour days in service to his country was the best thing for him?"

"It's not your fault, Josh."

He leaned in aggressively. "Then who the hell's fault is it?"

"It isn't anyone's," she answered, not backing away from his glare. "He chose to do this, /wanted/ to do it. No one ever talked Leo into doing anything he didn't already want to do."

The fire went out of Josh at her words, and he slumped against the window. She was right. Even if he /had/ spared a thought for Leo's health, nothing would have stopped Leo once he'd made the decision. Nothing. It was one of the things that Josh admired most about him.

But maybe it wasn't a trait worthy of so much admiration. Leo's commitment had consumed him, had lost him his family, had nearly lost him his very life. Was that really something to admire? Was it really something Josh wanted to emulate? If he was honest with himself, the answer was no.

He turned towards Donna. "Is this all there is? Campaigning and fighting the good fight and then campaigning again? Do /we/ ever get to have a life?"

"Yes," Donna answered. "Every time our guy wins, every time you pass a bill that will help thousands, every time you meet a kid that you've inspired to serve –"

"It's not enough," he told her sharply. "I've been standing here -- watching Leo, watching Mallory, thinking about the affects his choices had on her and Jenny -- and I've realized –" He stopped and took a deep breath. "I don't want this – I don't want politics to be everything that I am."

"It's not."

"Maybe at one time it wasn't, but lately... I've let the game become my whole life. Hell, I almost lost you because of it." He reached out and laced his fingers with hers. "You mean more to me than that. I don't want to leave you a widow to my ambition. I don't want to orphan our kids to civic duty. I don’t want you sitting by my hospital bed wondering why you weren't enough for me."

A corner of her mouth turned up. "Kids?"

"Hypothetical kids," he corrected sheepishly as he returned his gaze to Leo and Mallory. Now wasn't the time to talk about any kids they would or wouldn't have, but he couldn't help it. Watching Leo and Mallory reminded him that it wasn't just about him anymore. It was about him /and/ Donna -- and any family they chose to have. And about how much he wanted to be there with them, and for them, not isolated in a White House office all by himself.

"Kids would be nice," she said, tugging at his hand to regain his full attention.

He pulled his eyes away from the viewing window and looked back at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Donna said. "But this isn't about kids, is it? Or even about me."

"No," he admitted quietly. "It's not. It's…" He blew out a nervous breath. "I want a life, Donna. A real life, that's about more than politics. And I know what I'm like. I can't do both."

"You could."

"I could /try/," he countered. "But in the end, we both know it wouldn't work."

She looked at him with worried eyes, and suddenly it was completely clear to him what he needed to do. He just needed to courage to actually do it. And saying it aloud was probably the first step. "I'm not taking the Chief of Staff position," he told her.

Her eyes popped wide. "What?"

"I'm not going to take the job," he repeated, his voice steely with determination.

"You aren’t… you can't be serious, Josh! After everything you did to get Santos this far? After all your hard work?"

Despite her disbelief, he remained resolute. This is what he wanted to do, needed to do. He squeezed her fingers and smiled crookedly at her. "Yeah. Even after all that."

She studied him for a moment, absorbing his news, her initial shock quickly changing from concern to acceptance. Cocking her head at him, she asked, "If you aren't going to accept the Chief of Staff position, then what will you do?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Consultant, activist, professional baseball player?" Her look of concern returned and he grimaced slightly. "Ok, so my ideas need some work."

"Just a little," she agreed, a small smile briefly appearing on her face "You're really sure about this?"

He nodded again. "There are half a dozen other people that could do the job just as well – possibly even better – than me. Goodwin, CJ… hell, I bet I could even convince Sam to come back from California and work with Santos."

"They're not you, Josh."

"No," he agreed. "But I can't be that guy. Not anymore. Not if I want to have a chance at a real life." He paused, offering her a small smile and tightening his hold on her hand. "I want that life, Donna."
~~~~~

"You've done a remarkable thing."
~~~~~

They'd won. After months of grueling work, they'd finally done it – Matthew Vincente Santos was going to be the 43rd President of the United States. And she was going to be the First Lady's Chief of Staff. Donna was so excited that she practically skipped down the hallway as she went in search of Josh.

They'd been together when the win had first been announced, his arms tight around her and his warm breath stirring her hair as those around them cheered and shouted in victory. But it hadn't been the time or the place for such an intimate embrace, and she'd reluctantly parted from him, only to be promptly swept away by Annabeth and then Edie. The next several minutes had been lost in a blur of congratulatory hugs and somehow, amidst all the chaos, she'd lost track of him.

So when Bram grabbed her by the arm and announced that they needed to head downstairs to the ballroom, Donna had demurred, saying she needed to find Josh first. Her first guess as to his whereabouts had been the President-Elect's suite, but it had been eerily bare when she'd checked. Probably because he and his wife were both preparing for the victory speech.

Maybe Josh was helping with that. But when she looked into the conference room, his disheveled form was nowhere to be seen. Not that she was worried – he couldn't have gone very far. It was his night – he was bound to be around there somewhere.

She headed down the hall, peeking into rooms as she went, hoping to get a glimpse of him amongst the stragglers, but most of the rooms were abandoned and she didn't see him anywhere.

Until she finally got to the war room and found him standing by himself in the middle of it, his face in profile to her, as he stared into space with a look of awe and shock.

Of course he'd be here, she thought, her smile softening as she paused by the door to watch him. This election, this win, was the culmination of his political dreams. And the war room -- with it's half empty champagne bottles, it's scraps of confetti, and it's hastily filled-in whiteboards – was the physical representation of all that had led to it.

Tomorrow there'd be more physical proof . They would move the DC offices into space more fitting for the President Elect and start planning for the first hundred days. But for now, all there was was this room. This room and the two of them.

Pushing away from the doorjamb, she headed into the room.

"You did it," she said softly, coming up behind him to give him a hug. It was a testament to how well-tuned they were to one other that his only reaction was to turn and wrap his arms around her.

"/We/ did it," he corrected, burying his face in her hair.

She smiled against his shoulder. Of course he wouldn't take credit for it all. That wasn't his style. "/We/ did it," she agreed.

His hold on her tightened and she marveled again at how much they'd been through the past year, both personally and professionally. And through it all, they'd endured, coming back stronger and more committed after each misstep.

"My last campaign," she heard him murmur. "As of tomorrow morning -- /this/ morning -- I'm officially unemployed."

"It's not too late to change your mind," she reminded him, giving him an out if he wanted it.

"Nah." Pulling back from their embrace, he offered her a crooked smile. "I kind of like the idea of not knowing what I'm doing tomorrow morning."

And she could tell that he did, too. It was in the look on his face, the set of his shoulders -- he was, if not completely comfortable with the idea, at least content with his active decision not to pursue the Chief of Staff position. Satisfied. Sure.

"Besides," he continued, "You've got enough to do for both of us."

"I do, don't I?" she said, smiling broadly at him

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and returned her smile, pride at her accomplishments shining in his eyes. "Yes, you do, Ms. Chief-of-Staff."

"I like that title."

"Me too. It suits you."

She hugged him again, basking in the feel of his strong arms around her, until she heard Santos' introduction to the stage coming from the bank of television monitors on the wall.

"The President Elect was getting ready to give his speech," she said, as she stepped out of Josh's embrace. "That's why I came to get you – I thought maybe you'd want to be there."

"Yeah, I would. I just have one more thing..." Walking over to the white board, he picked up a blue marker, filled in the outline of Nevada and scribbled down the last of the electoral numbers. "Thanks, Boss," he murmured, smiling slightly at the bold, blue 272 he'd written. He turned back to Donna. "You ready for this?"

"I'm ready," she replied, a slow smile spreading across her face as she turned towards the door.

Her smile widened when she felt his warm hand settle low against her back and she reached behind her to link their fingers together and bring him to her side. Whatever their future held, from now on they were facing it together, as equals, partners in every way.
~~~~~

*END*