Running Into the Past

Summary: Everything changes when Josh runs into Donna four years later.

Author's Notes: This is an AU fic in which Donna never came back after leaving the first campaign to give FreeRide another chance. The fic starts just before the beginning of the fourth season and is 16 chapters long, followed by a companion piece that is 21 chapters long (Aren't companion pieces supposed to be shorter?).

Oh yeah, and I'm leaving this in bold type, which I know is harder on the eyes, but it'll help determine past from present.

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He knew as he scraped the remnants of what was once his bar of Dial off the ledge of the bathtub, trying to get enough to be able to work it into a lather to wash himself with that it was going to be a bad day. If that hadn't been enough, the spilled coffee and broken coffee mug would've clued him in. Or the fact that he had to wear black socks with his tan suit because all of his brown dress socks were dirty. Or when he walked outside to see that it was raining and remembered he'd left his umbrella at the office the night before. Or when he'd gotten into his car to see his fuel light on. Yeah, it was definitely going to be a bad day.

He pulled into the Shell station and pulled his credit card out of his wallet, taking two tries to get the 'pay at the pump' to read it, then began pumping unleaded fuel into his Audi. He had a headache; he'd need to get some Bayer from April when he got to the office.

The pump clicked off and he pulled it out of his tank, spilling a small amount of gas on his shoes, gritting his teeth and swearing under his breath. He put the pump back into its slot and the machine blinked 'CASHIER HAS RECEIPT,' making him want to scream as he walked through the rain into the smoke-filled building to get the receipt that should've printed at the pump.

His cell phone rang and he looked at the caller id. He hit talk and without a hello, growled out, "I'm on my way."

"We're meeting with Bruno in twenty minutes. We want to get together without him first."

"It's not us versus them, Toby." The bell on the door rang and he looked over as a woman walked in. He couldn't see her face under the umbrella she was holding, just her shoulder length blonde hair. A trench coat hung from her tall slender frame and she stomped her feet on the small rug a few times.

"It is us versus them. On this, it is."

He sighed in agreement. It did feel like it was the staff versus the campaign staff. The problem was that the campaign staff seemed to be winning a lot lately. "I'll be there in ten minutes." He hung up the phone and let the man who'd been in front of him buying lottery tickets and Camel Lights get around him to leave. The cashier looked up at him expectantly. "Pump...:" he looked out at his car again. "Seven. My receipt didn't print out."

The cashier refused to be rushed, leaning on one hand as he began punching things into the cash register with his other. After several seconds, Josh's receipt printed out and the guy handed it to him as he looked to the next customer equally uninterested. "Thanks," Josh said sarcastically before turning around to leave and stopping dead in his tracks.

A million thoughts raced through his brain in the span of less than a second. Her hair was shorter. Didn't she live in Wisconsin? She was wearing the same perfume. She wasn't dripping wet like he was. Her eyes were even bluer than he remembered. She'd lost that wide-eyed innocence look. He was going to be late. April wasn't half the assistant she'd been for the six weeks she'd worked for him. He had to remember to pick up soap on the way home. He should say hello. God she looked good. She left him.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, tilting her head and smiling at him. He found it hard to breathe. "Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Donna Moss, who are you?"

"I'm Josh Lyman."

"Ahh..."

"Yes."

His eyes widened. "Uhh...hi."

"Donna. Donna Moss." He couldn't make his mouth move, and after a few seconds, she continued. "I… volunteered for the Bartlet for America campaign for a while. I was…" she trailed off and he realized she didn't know he remembered her, and just like that, he was glad.

He stuck out his hand and gave her a plastic smile, acting as impersonal as possible. "Well, Donna. We appreciate the hard work you did for the President's campaign."

She shook his hand with wide eyes and he was happy, almost giddy, that he'd hit a nerve. That she didn't know he remembered her. That she didn't know he could tell her right now the coffee in her other hand had one cream and a half a packet of sweet and low. "It was…" she stammered and paused, trying to regain her composure. He remembered that about her too. "It was an honor," she said, standing straighter and smiling stiffly back at him.

He nodded then and walked past her and out the door, the bell ringing as he passed underneath it. He shielded himself as much as possible as he ran for his car, telling himself over and over not to look back. Once he was inside, he sat for a minute looking at his shaking hands on the steering wheel before he pulled his keys out of his pocket and started the car. He took a deep breath and pulled away from the pump and towards the road. She was back in the rain then, the umbrella back up, and he watched through the rearview mirror as she crossed the pumps to a Honda Civic. He couldn't see her face, but he hoped he'd destroyed her, just a little, and even as that thought occurred to him, he felt sick to his stomach for having it and threw his car into park, opening his door. Just as he heard the door ajar ding, he pulled himself back to reality and shut the door again, then left the parking lot and headed into work.

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"They're waiting for you in Toby's office," April said as he passed her desk and headed into his office.

"I know. I need some Bayer," he said, not looking at her.

She followed into his office several seconds behind. "Leo needs a minute after your meeting with Bruno but before senior staff, and Hamilton's assistant called to confirm your two o'clock."

He peeled his sopping wet coat off and hung it on the rack in the corner before sitting at his desk. "Where are the things I need for my meeting with Bruno?"

"Things?"

He sighed. "The files on tobacco and soft money ads. Did Jason give them to you?"

She shook her head. "I'll get them from him," she said, handing him a bottle of Aleve.

He looked at them and back at her. "Bayer."

"I don't have any."

"Well get some," he said louder than he meant to.

"It's not my job to keep Bayer around for you. I have Aleve. Take it or leave it."

"I don't like…Jason!" he shouted.

"It's the same thing."

"It's not the same thing. Jason!"

"What?" Jason asked, poking his head in the door.

"Where are the folders I need for my meeting with Bruno?"

"Here," he said, handing them to him.

"Thank you. Do you have Bayer?"

"I have Tylenol," he said.

Josh ran his hands through his hair. "Which I don't like."

"It's just Tylenol, Josh."

"Bayer is better for my…you know what? I'm the boss here. You're the assistants. One of you find me some Bayer," he said, walking out of his office and heading towards the communications bullpen.

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"It's illegal."

"It's not illegal."

"The intent of the law…"

"They should've written it better."

"Bruno."

"Sam, it's not illegal."

"We're not supposed to be using soft money."

"They are."

"We're better than them."

"Yes. Let's use soft money to point that out to the voters."

"Bruno."

They continued arguing, but he barely heard a word of it. His mind continually played over the morning; more to the point, the twenty or so seconds he'd spent with Donna Moss that morning.

What the hell was she doing here? She left him and went back to Wisconsin. And for the last four years, he'd stayed out of her state, why hadn't she stayed the hell out of his?

And to smile at him; that innocent 'how've you been' smile. That 'we're old friends; it's great to see you again smile.' How dare she act as though she hadn't left him high and dry in the middle of a campaign? As if there wasn't work to do and things to arrange and arguments to have.

Josh –

I'm so sorry to do this like this. I'm a coward, I know.

He came here, Josh. He drove here to get me, to ask for another chance. I ignored his calls so he came here and I know you think he's scum, but we were together for years, Josh. Three years. I owe it to both of us to give this another chance.

The carry-on bag by the door has everything you need for the Iowa trip tomorrow, as well as two clean shirts and that neck pillow you kept trying to steal from me. Your schedule for the trip is under this letter; I've confirmed every meeting. Do good.

Thank you for watching over me. For the dinners we worked through so the campaign would pay and for making sure I made every trip so I'd have a place to sleep. Thank you for teaching me and fighting with me and letting me fight back. And thank you for the chance, Josh. I'm more grateful for it than you'll ever know, but I have to do this.

You have my cell number, please call me if you guys come near Madison and we'll have lunch. I'll buy. And eat the occasional salad.

I know you guys are gonna do great, Josh. I just know it.

Donna

How dare her skip out in the middle of the night leaving nothing but a note and two clean shirts and then run into him five blocks from his townhouse four years later and smile at him that same way she did to get herself a job. He wouldn't fall for it again. Didn't. He didn't fall for it again.

He'd had a ton of assistants. Five since she'd left alone. Not to mention the ones who came before her. How was he expected to remember every volunteer who'd come in and out of that office? She was only there for six weeks. Six weeks and three days. He couldn't be expected to remember her, and he was glad she knew that now. It was spiteful and mean and revengeful and he was glad. Glad it stung; glad her eyes lost a little of that sparkle. She deserved it. She left him and he'd gone on without her. He didn't have time to look back now. He had a President to get reelected and a country to run. One assistant that lasted only six weeks and three days was the last thing he had time to think about.

He couldn't get his mind off her.