Donna sank deeper into the fragrant bathwater, sighing as the heat seeped into her skin, relaxing her tired muscles.

After her conversation with Josh outside the Oval, she'd wanted nothing more than to drive home and crawl into bed, chalk the whole day up to bad luck. But there'd been one more stop she'd needed to make. Not to secure the vote � Josh had all but told her it would never happen � but for her own peace of mind.

She'd needed to have that one last confrontation with Ellen.

It hadn't been her proudest moment - asking Ellen to take the phone to Gracie Harden at the eleventh hour - but it had made her feel better, knowing she'd given it one last shot, knowing that she, at least, had not backed down or hidden like a frightened child.

Unlike the freshman Senator from Georgia.

Now, though, all the fear and worry and tension from the day was making itself felt, causing her shoulders to droop and her head ache, causing her head whirl with thoughts that wouldn't let her rest.

Would Josh have resigned? Was it really getting harder this time around? Did they have what it took to keep on fighting the good fight? Would they be able to rely on health and strength alone?

She didn't know.

And the bath, which she'd hoped would help put her mind at ease as well as sooth her weary body, wasn't working.

Wearily rising from the rapidly diminishing bubbles, Donna pulled out the bath stopper and shrugged on her old pink robe. She'd have to hope that the mind-numbing history of Idaho's potato industry that was sitting on her bed table would do the trick instead.

"Donna! I'm leaving now!" her roommate called from the living room, just as Donna was sitting down on the edge of her bed to towel dry her hair. "Oh! And Josh is here!"

"Masey, no! I'm not � " She stopped abruptly as Josh appeared in her bedroom doorway.

"Hey," he said sheepishly, taking in her appearance. "Is this a bad time?"

"It's not the best time," she answered, setting down the towel and trying not to look too longingly at the heap of pillows resting against her headboard. "But it's a not bad time either. You came for your phone?"

"Yeah," he replied automatically before shaking his head in confusion. "No, actually. You still have my phone?"

She stood and retrieved it from her bag. "I wanted to make one last play� It didn't work."

Pocketing the phone, he shrugged. "Doesn't matter. The resolution was dead in the water long before tonight and I knew it. I just didn't want to let the President down."

"The President or Leo?" she asked, her voice and eyes soft.

He stared at her. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Manage to say just about the same exact thing the President said � that I was doing it for Leo, not for the resolution."

Her eyes widened. "He said that?"

"He said I wanted to be the guy the guy counts on."

She nodded. "You do." When he remained silent, she asked, "So are we still employed?"

"We?"

"If you go, I go. We're a team."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Since when?"

"Since I walked into your office five years ago and you hired me."

"You hired yourself," he reminded her, a small smile forming on his face.

"Fine. Since I hired myself. Since� since everything."

His expression hardened. "They weren't all your battles."

"Some of them shouldn't have been yours, either. But they were. And they became mine, too."

He studied her for a moment, so intensely that she wondered if she'd overstepped her bounds. Finally, he spoke up. "Yeah. So� Fishhooks McCarthy?"

"Don't make fun. It's a good story."

"It is a good story," he agreed, his lips quirking into a smile again. "I'm just not sure it's really applicable."

"It is. Because we have what we need � health, strength and each other. Whatever else we need, we'll steal."

He was quiet again. "So did you know that Benjamin Harris got his mistress pregnant in the White House?"

She turned her head and gave him a look of surprise. "It was Warren G. Harding in the OEOB," she corrected. "You shouldn't try to steal my shtick."

He smiled, just like she knew he would. "Bringing the Yiddish again?"

"Don't knock it."

"I should probably get going, let you get some sleep," he said suddenly.

She nodded. "Yeah. But this was okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Always. We have some new strategy on the foreign aid resolution to work out," she told him, grinning.

"That we do. Goodnight, Donnatella."

"Goodnight, Josh."

She watched as he walked out of her room and out of the apartment, no longer as slumped as he had been, but straighter, prouder, more confident. They had health and strength and each other. They'd simply have to steal the rest.

~End~