When Donna didn't come back to the conference room, Josh went looking for her. Watching Mary Marsh attack Donna, while he'd been helpless, had not been an easy task, but he knew it was probably easier than what Donna was going through on the phone.

He'd only met Donna's Mom once, but he'd recognized her type right away. The woman was a special kind of self righteous and had lived with enough of a Rockwell-esq facade that she could pass off her life as close to perfect to those who didn't know any better. Ever since meeting her, he'd been even more amazed at the person Donna had become, and even more glad that he'd given her the opportunity to join the Bartlet campaign all those years ago.

Watching Amy defend Donna had been oddly satisfying. He admired Amy. She scared the hell out of him most of the time, but he admired her. She really was a political powerhouse. But admiration wasn't the same thing as love. And everything between he and Amy was a competition. They never would have worked long term.

As he rounds the corner, he sees Donna, eyes closed, back against the wall.

His heart does a little flip in his chest. All he wants to do is gather her up in his arms and assure her that everything is going to be okay. It's a feeling that he's completely familiar with. Over the years there have been many moments like this. From the moment he met her, he's wanted to nurture her, to give her a part of himself that he's never wanted to give anyone else. For a while, at least, he thought that maybe someday he'd be able to. But now, he doesn't know.

It had become obvious to him that she didn't need him to mentor her anymore. But he wondered if he had anything else to offer. And if he did, would she want it?

"Hey," he announced himself quietly, not wanting to startle her.

She opened her eyes and the hurt in them almost took his breath away. It raised something in him that wanted to lash out. Damn Republicans. Damn Mary Marsh. Damn Dr. Freeride. And Damn Josh Lyman, he thought with a depreciating dose of reality. He hadn't given her what she needed and he hated himself for it.

"That was my Mom. She sends her love." Donna responded with bitter sarcasm.

Josh's mouth quirks up a little, appreciating that she wants to try to deal with this whole mess with humor. This whole time he's wanted to do battle for her, to rescue her. But he's starting to realize she doesn't need to be saved. So he responds in the same tone.

"Well, I am one of her all time favorite people."

"I think you just moved up on the list." Donna's voice hitches a little. And at that Josh can't resist the urge anymore.

He opens his arms, "C'mere."

Donna's eyes are filling with tears as she walks into his embrace, but she sniffles hard, refusing to let them fall. He holds her tightly, not wanting the moment to end, but not wanting to see her fall completely apart either. He's so bad at this. He just doesn't know what to do. So he just stands there, holding on. For as long as she needs.

A few minutes go by, then he feels her take a deep breath and step back. Her face is calm. She didn't let go of her emotions. He gets it. He really does. But it makes him a bit sad, because he knows what holding everything in does to a person. So he decides to push a little, to see if she'll open up to him. He leads her over to some chairs and they sit down. Then he clears his throat a little.

"Donna? Why didn't you ever tell me? We've worked on legislation a ton of times. Did you think I'd judge you?"

"Do you remember pulling up to the hotel in Manchester? You told me that RU486 was being announced, and I said 'Hallelujah!' Do you remember what you said?"

"Not really."

"You said 'somehow you think this means more sex for you'. . . . . You, a pro-choice guy, and generally a decent ally for women, you thought my enthusiasm was only about my pleasure- my irresponsibility. An opportunity to have more sex without worrying about consequences. Never mind that RU486 is actually an advancement in medical care."

She gives him an even stare. She doesn't look angry. Just resigned.

"That's why women don't tell men. Even the best of you judge us in ways you don't judge each other. That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want to ever have to explain myself to anybody about this. It was my choice. It was my right to make it and my right to keep it quiet."

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry." He really is. He never realized that he was making a judgment. Once again, Donna has taught him something. This is why he needs her. She makes him a better person.

"But you know what gets me the most?" As she asks him, he can hear the lingering sadness in her voice.

"No?"

"The suggestion that what I did proves that I'll never be a good mother. That I'm too selfish. That's the one that gets me. Because what if it's true?"

"It's not!" He answers vehemently, hoping that she doesn't think that he thinks that. Then repeats himself a little more softly. "It's not. You'd be a fantastic Mom. Someday I hope you get that chance."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, I do." He knows it's true, because there's no one else he's ever wanted to have a kid with. For a second, he wants to tell her that he'd like to raise a child with her. To be a family. But it seems so wildly inappropriate in the moment that he bites his tongue. Just like he has many times before.

She gives him a bright smile, then stands up. "So, boss, what's next?" She asks, ready to move on. But for once in his life, Josh doesn't want to put politics first.

"Can I just be your friend, at least for a little longer?" He asks with a vulnerability he hasn't shown her in years. "It's Sunday afternoon. How about lunch?"

He's rewarded with another smile. The kind that he hasn't seen in quite some time. And when she answers, her tone is soft and teasing.

"You do owe me a salad."

"Yes, I do, Gracie."

The nickname warms her heart. While she's never figured out where they come from, they've always made her feel just a little special.

As Donna grabs her purse, Josh pokes his head back into the war room. "I'm going to lunch. No calls for an hour unless something is literally on fire."

They slide into Josh's car with an old familiarity. A comfortableness settles over them. But as they pull up to a red light, Josh takes the plunge and decides to ask the question that's really been bugging him for the last 24 hours.

"Why did you lie to me about the car accident and him stopping for a beer?"

"Well, only the part about the car accident was a lie."

"WHAT?"

"He dropped me off at the clinic for the appointment, and then he left. When the procedure was over, he wasn't in the waiting room. So I called him to pick me up, and on the way, he stopped to have a beer with some friends."

Josh is speechless. He'd thought the story was insane the first time he heard it. Now he's seeing red.

But Donna's gentle voice pulls him out of his anger. "The important part of the story was that I was trying to tell you that I chose you. I chose this. Life gave me two choices. I could have married Dr. Freeride. And maybe we would have been fine. Maybe it would have been a nice life. But it would have been settling for something I didn't want. I chose the path that I wanted to be on. And I've never regretted it."

Josh is relieved to hear her say the words. For the last 6 months, he's wondered if she regretted coming to work for him in the first place, and the last 24 hours hasn't really helped. He isn't sure what to say, but he wants her to know that he's glad she chose him.

"I still wouldn't stop for a beer."

"I know. And I still wouldn't stop for red lights. You know that right? - This whole time, even while working for Russell, if something had happened to you, I'd have been there for you, nothing could have stopped me."

"I know I haven't been a great boss. And I know that I haven't always shown it, but I wouldn't stop for red lights either."

"You already proved that."

"How?"

"You were in Germany when I woke up. I didn't understand it at the time, but eventually I did the math. For you to be there that quickly, you must have left the US right after you heard about the bombing."

"Yeah. Less than a hour. I went straight from the West Wing to the airport and booked a direct flight."

"I don't think I ever said thank you."

"There were a lot of things neither of us said after that."

"Maybe it's about time we did."

"Yeah. I'd like that."