Part I

"Stop the car."

The instant he says it, my eyes start searching the landscape for what I know has to be around here somewhere...

'Lake Michigan Scenic Overlook'

I sigh, far louder than I'd intended to, but I can't help myself as these little mini sightseeing tours of his are wearing thin very quickly.

I can see my obvious displeasure is getting me nowhere as he shoots me a dirty look and reiterates his position.

"Stop the car right here, please."

Why I even bother, I have no idea...

"Congressman, we have a rally scheduled to start in sixty minutes and it's at least an hour and a half drive time left until we get there. We don't have time for stops, Sir!"

He doesn't bother looking at me. If he is listening at all it's a total mystery from where I sit.

"We are very, very, behind already so I can't see how we have time to... "

At last he turns, glaring, daring me to keep at it.

I do, of course, keep at it, still operating under the misguided impression that I have any sort of control over the actions of the man before me.

Thinking myself clever - another misguided impression - I try a softer approach I know he nor anyone who's spent more than ten minutes in my company is ever going to buy, but I give it a shot just the same.

"I enjoy a panoramic view as much as the next man Congressman, but..."

His laughter, at my expense, cuts me off before I can finish the ill conceived, last ditch effort, and it is clear to even me that I'm doomed to failure in the battle of the scenic overlook.

"Walk with me, Josh."

These little detours are difficult enough when I'm left behind to grumble my displeasure in the car but when forced to come along on the adventure, they take on a very special kind of torture.

I offer up a last plea. "Congressman..."

One word is all I can manage before he makes his insistence known with a firm glare and nod toward my car door before exiting his own.

I begrudgingly, and silently, obey his command and step out of the car.

Standing by the car, he gestures toward the concrete path ahead so that his security detail - I suppose at the very least I have to be thrilled he has begun to get use to and is actually working with them now - can lead the way.

"Come on, Josh, we need to have a talk."

Sure, the sign said scenic overlook, but as we head down the pathway into the woods, I'm convinced this route leads deeper and deeper into the mosquito ridden wilderness and nowhere else.

I'm mindful of expediting whatever this chat may be in hopes of cutting this jaunt short, getting back on the road, and making our destination in the vague ballpark of being on time.

"You said we needed to talk?"

He glances back without bothering to stop. "I can't do this without you, Josh."

His statement gives me equal measures of pride that he'd say such a thing and apprehension as to what it is he wants from me by choosing now to say it.

Just then the forest opens up and we reach a clearing on the hillside that overlooks the lake below.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is." In truth I'm too distracted to look. "It's just that we're on a pretty tight schedule..."

"Sit with me, Josh."

The wooden deck that makes up the overlook has benches built into the sides all the way around so, as he takes a seat on one, I see no other choice than to do the same.

"The rally, dinner after, with drive time to and from, what sort of time are we looking at, Josh?"

At last: the schedule, a conversation I can sink my teeth into. "About six hours?"

I'm relieved to find he has gotten the point on the time constraints we are under, and feel pleased to know we'll be done with this soon and out of here in no time.

"Round trip, with events, six hours or so. We should be back at the hotel in time to grab some sleep and be on the plane first thing in the morning, Sir."

"We'll be coming back this way? Past this spot?"

"Yes, but it will be late by then and we won't have the time to stop again, Congressman."

He stands up looking down on me with a devious smile and I have the very distinct impression he's about to do something he knows I'm not going to like.

"It"ll be late but you have my word that we will stop back here and pick you up, Josh."

Fixated on the fear that he's intending to stop again I nearly miss the crucial part of what he's saying.

"Pick me up?"

He turns to walk away, nodding his intended path to the men who take up formation to escort him, and apparently only him, out of the woods.

"That's right, Josh, I'm leaving you here."

"You can't leave me here!"

I get to my feet quickly but he continues moving away with equal vigor. "Congressman?... Sir... Matt!"

"Yes, Josh?"

"You just got done saying you couldn't do this without me and now you're leaving me on the side of the road?"

Finally he stops allowing me to close the distance between us. "I'm leaving you behind because I need you, Josh."

He puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles that devilish smile I'm quickly learning to dislike immensely.

"Your head's not in the game these days my friend." Now just seemed like a perfect opportunity to help you work it all out. So I'll leave you here to do just that."

With that he turns and starts to leave. "We'll be back for you in about six hours, Josh."

While my gut instinct is to follow him back to the car, something tells me he is serious and, if I do that, I'll actually be left there standing along the roadside to the amusement of everyone in the motorcade.

"You can't just leave me here!" I shout up the hill to the back of his head nearly out of sight. "It's like ninety degrees out here!"

"Take off your shoes and walk in the lake, Josh. That will cool you off and may help the thought process. Work it out, Josh! Just work it out!"

With that, he disappears from sight, and I'm left there alone wondering if it's possible I've left everything and put all my efforts into putting what appears to be a madman, in the highest office in the land.

I turn to look out at the water, the sound of the waves below catching my attention now that everyone has gone. While I start to contemplate a way out of this mess I've suddenly found myself in, I hear faint footsteps coming toward me on the path.

"That wasn't funny, Congressman! I actually thought you'd left me."

"Josh?"

I know the voice well and it's certainly not that of Matthew Santos.

Work it out... Yeah, I get it!

I sit, burying my head in my hands, not having the strength to face her now that I know what this is really all about.

"Josh! Are you listening to me? They sent me down here to get you. If we don't get moving we're going to get left behind again.

I run my fingers through my hair and growl, "No," in frustration.

"We are not going to be left behind."

"What? Josh?"

I finally look up to find she is now right in front of me, hovering, with a puzzled look on her face. "I promise you THAT will not happen to us this time."

She has a shoulder bag, as well as her scheduler, tucked under her arm and I can't help wondering if there is anything in either that is going to prove useful in getting us both through the next five or six hours of impromptu wilderness training.

"How can you be so sure? I'm telling you if we don't get up there right now we WILL be left behind, Josh. Come on let's go!"

I just sit there quietly, watching her face, searching for a way to break the news gently. Naturally there is none to be had so I opt for the cold hard truth, lean back in my seat, keep my eyes on hers the whole time, and give her it to her straight.

"We can't be accidentally left behind when we have been intentionally dumped, Donna."

Not a word for a moment or two. She's just standing there with this strange, bewildered, confused look on her face.

"Dumped, Josh?"

"Yes, dumped! Dumped as in you and I intentionally left along the side of the road with a vague assurance that someone will be back to retrieve us at some point in the future. DUMPED, Donna!"

Part II

I can't think of a reason he'd lie about something like this but, the realization of what seems to have just happened is so ridiculous, I have to walk back up the path and see if they have actually gone for the sake of my own sanity.

Gone!

As promised, no one is there.

I make my way back to the overlook as quickly as possible, fighting a strange fear that somehow he will be gone now as well and I'll be left in the middle of nowhere on my own.

It's irrational and of course he is right where I left him when I return.

"I told you they were gone."

He's sitting there, on the bench, reclined, feet crossed at the ankles, elbows propped on the rails behind him, wearing dark sunglasses, face turned upward to the hot midday sun.

"Dumped, Josh?"

"Yep! Dumped! He said they'd get us on the way back."

I start to walk over to him but stop myself.

Why? Because: A) there is something appealing, to the point of being unsettling, about his unreasonably smug body language lying there stretched out in the sun.

And B) because I have no doubt that all of this is somehow his fault and I have the uncontrollable urge to kick him in the shin for getting me into this.

"He who?"

"The Congressman. You know: Democratic nominee for President. All around great guy who knows what's best for everyone in all situations and finds amusement in forcing whatever he thinks 'that' is on his unsuspecting staff. That's who!"

See, there you go; I knew this was his fault!

I figure to hell with reason A because he's not half as cute as he thinks he is anyway, and walk over to him to get the optimal position to exercise option B as soon as I find out what it is he's done that got us both exiled to a deserted beach in Western Michigan.

"Why did he do it, Josh?"

I can't see his eyes, likely closed anyway, behind the glasses and while he doesn't move as I draw near and speak, I can tell he is listening as he takes a deep breath and wrinkles up his nose at the inquiry.

"We're here because I need to work it out."

"Work it out? What's that supposed to mean?"

Like an arrogant lizard sunning itself on a rock he remains still and silent.

"Josh! What are you supposed to be working out and WHY do I have to be stuck here with you for you to do it?"

He still doesn't answer but does pull the glasses off to look up at me.

"Answer the question, Josh!"

"You really want to know what?"

No more relaxed body language as he moves to sit up.

There is a challenge I have the instinct to steer clear of in his voice as he poses the question, but I ask anyway.

"Yes, I want to know!"

I'm standing there, waiting for him to answer, but instead of speaking he rises to his feet, closes the distance between us to stand right in front of me, and kisses me before I can realize what is happening.

He takes a step back, still managing to remain very close, looks at me, eyebrows raised, brow distinctly furrowed, a slight uneasy smile on his face, and offers up the explanation I was most afraid of hearing.

"That! You... is what I'm supposed to be working out."

He's watching me closely, his lower lip drawn between his teeth, distracting to watch as all I can think of is how it felt having his lips pressed against my own just a few moments earlier, in a completely new expression I've never seen before.

"That's ridiculous!"

I know as well as anyone it's not but, even with the added twist of a first kiss thrown into the mix, denial is always the best way to go when it comes to matter of the heart, my heart, and Josh Lyman.

"Seriously? You mean to tell me we've been left here because of what he imagines is going on between the two of us?"

"Imagines?"

"Yes, Josh, imagines! I can't believe the man would..."

Before I can finish he pulls me into his arms and kisses me again.

This kiss is not like the first...

That one was nice, but this one is something altogether different that 'nice'.

It's hard to define, but I feel safe saying that with one of his arms wrapped around my waist and his other hand at the base of my neck, fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me to him, the temperature on this beach shot from eighty five degrees to at least a hundred ten just from the heat of one kiss.

After what seems like an eternity, with only a few brief breaks to catch our breath, his lips, hands and arms leave me as quickly and unexpectedly as they'd come.

He steps away, squinting hard in the sun or perhaps he only pretends the sun is in his eyes for fear of seeing anger or disappointment in my own eyes if he dared to open his further.

"Maybe it's not imagined, Donna?"

Not knowing what to say I, wrongly, opt for saying nothing at all.

He's looking anywhere but at me.

I can't blame him, he went out on a limb and I've left him hanging there without a word.

"At least, for my part, it's not imagined."

As I stand there struggling to find the words and, more importantly, the guts to say them if they do manage to come to me, he begins, what looks like from where I stand, the process of undressing.

His necktie quickly unknotted and discarded, he starts in with the buttons on his shirt.

"Josh. What do you think you're doing?"

He steps backward toward the benches, tugging his shirttails free from his pants as he moves, and eyes me with a mischievous smile.

"What do you THINK I'm doing?"

He removes his shoes by stepping on the heel of each in turn while waiting for a reply.

"Well?"

Seeing that I can't or, more appropriately, won't respond, he sighs in defeat, bends down to pick up the discarded shoes and sets them on the bench next to him as he takes a seat.

He brings his foot up to rest on his knee, says, "It's hot out here!" and tugs the sock off, repeating the process with the other before balling them up and jamming both into one shoe.

He leans over and starts in rolling up his pant legs, making it impossible to see his face as he speaks.

"You thought I was stripping perhaps?"

He looks up briefly after finishing the first; when I don't answer he shifts his attention and gazes back down to the other leg.

"Figured if I was bold enough to kiss you once, sorry make that twice, I'd then think you'd be eager to go at it right here on this bench, in public, for all to see, maybe?"

He's still looking down, fumbling with the task of converting suit pants to lakeshore waders, and I'm grateful he can't see the embarrassment, knowing that what he just suggested is very much like what I was thinking, written all over my face.

When he does look up I'm prepared to see hurt or anger in his eyes but instead I'm greeted by a bright smile, soft laughter, and a little gentle teasing.

"Come on tell the truth. You did, didn't you?"

I shrug, and offer a small smile in return.

"It's hot out here. Really, really hot out here and all of this," he gestures to bare feet and rolled pants, "is about going down there to the lake, sticking my feet into the water and cooling off, nothing more."

"That sounds... nice."

"Lose your jacket and shoes and come with me."

I nod my agreement and set my bag on the bench next to his shoes so I can remove my jacket. No sooner do I set the bag down then we are both taken aback by the sound of a phone ringing.

"That's you," he says with unusual calm and confidence.

"Sure it's not yours?"

He picks up the bag, handing it to me. "Mine's on a charger in the car. Has to be you. "

His disgust at being left in the great outdoors without his phone is written all over his face as I search through my bag trying to locate my ringing phone.

At last I find it at the bottom, pull it out, look at the caller ID, and quickly hold it at arms length for him to see as well. "Looks like it's 'Josh' calling."

He takes it and answers, without hesitation. Even if I can only hear his side of the conversation it's clear right away who's really calling and equally clear we are likely to remain dumped for sometime to come.

I listen carefully trying to fill in the blanks the best I can.

"Yeah! Yes, I know that, Sir... Right... That's helpful I suppose..."

He's fidgeting while he speaks, shifting the phone from ear to ear and lifting one bare foot up off the deck at time.

"Not as helpful as sending someone back to get us right now! "

I'm thinking his bouncing is just a matter irritation but, as I remove my own shoes, I find his one foot hop is prompted less by his irritation and more by the fact the wood decking is very hot to stand on, making it nearly impossible to hold still.

"I am not... I give a hundred ten percent everyday... Frankly it's disturbing that you'd say... "

Half of me wants to know what the Congressman has to say but the other half that can tell he's accusing Josh of not doing his job well wants no part of the conversation.

"Yeah? Well you're wrong... The insinuation and this whole situation is pointless and unnecessary... NO!... Well, yeah, but..."

He grabs hold of the sunglasses he left hanging from a belt loop on his pants, snaps them open and slips them on, leaving me to wonder again if it's the sun, or me seeing how angry he really is, that he's protecting himself from.

"Yes, we're talking. That make you happy; what you had in mind?... No, it didn't... My head's been in nothing but the game since day one so I don't see what the hell..."

He stops moving and, while I still can't see his eyes hidden behind the glasses, I'm fairly certain the pained expression on his face is all about what he's hearing and not the fact that his feet are on fire.

"I did... I AM talking to her! Fine!... I said fine already... You are ready for the afternoon I hope?"

He seems to calm a bit, being able to shift the subject to more comfortable territory. "Both events are very important. We need Michigan in November, Sir... Even if you are running late you've got to be mindful of the time... "

He starts shifting from foot to foot again, looking up toward me and then to the face of the phone.

"Sir?... Are you still there?... Hello?"

I try to be optimistic, realizing that if what I think just happened did happen, he's likely to go off in epic Josh fashion at any second.

"Maybe you just lost the signal?"

He stares at the phone a good long while before slamming it shut and tossing it to me.

"No I didn't! But I AM going to lose my mind."

I revise my earlier thought: Josh stuck in the great outdoors without his cell phone alone isn't enough to do the trick but add in being kept out of the loop by a candidate that refuses to listen to a word he has to say, and I'm pretty sure that is more than enough to push him over the edge very soon.

Uncharacteristically, Josh seems to shrug off the call by diverting his attention to me, our situation, and the cool water just below.

"To hell with it! Let go get wet!"

Standing there in front of me barefoot, hair mussed, in dark glasses, shirt sleeves and pant legs rolled, his shirt untucked and blowing in the wind, he is something to see.

"Yeah, okay."

What else can I do in the face of his uniquely rumpled charm?

My shoes and stockings already managed and, luckily wearing a skirt short enough to avoid getting wet, I slip off my jacket, relieved to be much cooler now that I'm left wearing only a lightweight sleeveless v neck shell, lay the jacket gently over our shoes and things on the bench, and follow his lead.

Halfway down the stairs leading to the beach he stops and begins to slip out of his shirt. "You should leave that on, Josh. It'll keep you from getting sunburned."

Ignoring me, as usual, he pulls the shirt off, backtracks a little, positioning himself next to me on the same narrow step, holding the shirt open for me to slip into.

"I won't burn, but you will. Put it on."

Not altogether comfortable with the closeness in light of all that's happened, I slip into the shirt quickly, expecting that he'll retreat if I comply.

Which of course he doesn't do.

"Okay, now turn around."

"What for? Why?"

He grabs one open shirttail, tugging, urging me to pivot whether I like it or not.

"Don't argue. Have some faith, turn around and face me."

As I turn, he captures the other shirttail and brings them both upward, knotting the ends carefully around my waist.

He straightens the shirt collar around my neck, out of habit more than anything else, smiles and offers an impatient plea glancing at the water below.

"Now, let's go already."

Part III

Josh wraps a hand around my wrist, encouraging me to walk with him down the stairs. The feel of his fingers curled over my wrist is reminiscent of years of walk and talk through the halls of the White House.

I follow him to the shoreline of the lake. The sand is hot beneath my toes and I wiggle them impatiently.

"You're not really going to go swimming are you, Josh?" I ask skeptically, as his foot hovers over the water.

He looks back at me and shrugs. "Sure, why not?"

"Because you're not really the swimming type of man. You're not the outdoors type of man, no matter what you say," I scoff, somewhat cruelly. I don't mean to be nasty... I just feel all off balance, what with the kiss - two kisses - and the fact I have to spend the entire afternoon alone with him.

"I'm not going to swim, Donna. Just wade a bit to cool down." Josh's hand twists from its grip around my wrist and he slides his fingers through mine. He drops his foot into the water with a resounding splash. "Come on, the water's fine."

"Okay," I give in, and allow Josh to pull me into the water. He's right; the water is cool as it laps around my ankles, relieving the burn from the hot sand. His fingers tighten through mine, almost as though afraid I'll make a run for it.

He pulls me deeper; the water rises to soak into the rolled up cuffs of his pants, and he turns to face me.

"What's happening Donna? With us?"

I blink at him, confused. "What?"

"Why couldn't we get it together?"

"I don't know what you mean, Josh." I say quickly, squinting in the sunlight. He stares at me, his brow wrinkled, but I can't see his eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses.

"Yeah, you do. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

I wrench my hand from his and glare at him. "In your opinion."

"Everyone shares my opinion. Some people just accept it sooner than others."

"Oh my God, you really think now is the time you want to bring the ego out to play, Josh?" I hiss, and turn away to head back to the shore.

"Don't walk away from me again, Donna," he roars, and grabs for my hand. I struggle from his grasp and push him away, a little harder than I intended because, with an unmanly squeal, he loses his balance.

The water splashes high as he falls backwards, his glasses sliding off as he goes under but, almost immediately, he resurfaces and grabs me around the knees with his arms.

"You're going to pay for that," he yells, and I shriek as his clumsy tackle pulls me down into the cold water. It's shallow enough and, even with my butt on the bottom of the lake, my head and shoulders aren't covered by water.

He holds me down, half sitting on me, and I glare at him. "JOSH!"

"Yes?" Water is dripping off hair plastered flat against his head, sliding down his nose, dribbling over his... lips.

"You've ruined my skirt, Josh!" I pinch his waist under the water and he jumps, moving enough so I can slide out from under him. I struggle to my feet and look down at my clothes. "Damn it, I have to get this dry cleaned."

"I know of a place that won't charge extra for 'lake damage'," Josh says idly, as he sits in the water, staring up at me.

"Oh, haha, Josh." I squeeze out the excess water from my hair and glare at him again. "You think this is funny?"

"No, actually, I don't think this is funny at all," he shakes his head. "In fact, I think this is about as unfunny a thing ever in our entire working relationship, and that's saying something." He grabs his sunglasses before they float away and twirls them through his fingers then replaces them over his eyes.

"Don't hide from me, Josh," I accuse. "You're just so damn good at that. I won't have a pair of sunglasses stop me from yelling at you."

"You think glasses will stop you from doing that?" he spits back as he slides them up to rest on top of his head. "What about you hiding, Donna? Maybe you don't have a pair of glasses but you're standing there, glaring at me... and look at your arms!"

I flick my eyes down to my arms, folded firmly across my chest. He's right, it looks as though I'm in defensive posture but the thing is... I start laughing, softly at first, then louder, and sink to my knees.

"What's so funny?" Josh asks curiously, all traces of anger gone from his voice as I sit on the bottom of the lake again, and curl my legs underneath me.

"Oh, Joshua, Josh, Josh," I sigh, and give him a smile. "I wasn't crossing my arms in anger. My blouse is silk, when it gets wet it gets... transparent." His eyes flick down, and I tug his dress shirt, which I'm still wearing, closed and cross my arms over my chest again. "Quit it."

"Sorry," he mutters, amusement creeping into his voice. "I shouldn't have assumed." He pushes his arms behind him, through the water, and leans back to stare up at the cloudless sky. "That's our problem though, isn't it?"

"That we assume too much, yes," I sigh again, and drop my hands from my chest again. We're both adults here and I don't really care what he's sees anymore. I'm sick of playing games with him.

Josh sighs, an echo of mine. "There's so much that's right about us, Donna. You understand me in ways that no one else has ever - could ever - understand me."

"Maybe there's something right about us, Josh, but there's so much that's wrong about us. Not the least of which, we were friends too long. Maybe there was a chance for something after..." I stare down into the water. "After I came back from Germany but then..." I don't know how to say it without hurting his feelings.

"I ignored you," he says softly and I nod. "I didn't mean to. I wanted... to give you space. I didn't want to push; I didn't want to force you in anything." He looks down into the water as well and takes a deep breath. "And then somehow-"

"We ended back up in the boss assistant relationship again," I finish his sentence. Something I used to do daily but, now I think about it, haven't done for months. More than a year actually. It saddens me, and I look over at him.

"And then you left me," he adds. I knew it; I knew he wouldn't be able to resist making himself out to be the wronged person.

"Well, guess what, Josh," I throw back at him. "That's the way life goes sometimes. You lose what you never had because you're too stupid to ask it to stay forever." I flick my hand in the water and it splashes over his face. "But when it all comes down to basics, it wasn't personal."

"You broke my heart, Donna, and now you sit there and tell me it wasn't personal?" he splashes me back and I wipe the water from my eyes before responding.

"It wasn't about you and me, Josh. I mean, you and me and... whatever we could have had that WAS personal. Me leaving you was about work, and nothing more."

"But Donna, work and, um, not work was the same thing to me," Josh replies.

"Not to ME!" I exclaim. "And you never saw that, did you? You just got all bristly and emotional, and retreated into yourself. Blamed me for it, but you know what?"

"What?"

"It still wasn't personal, Josh. Tell me something: why are you having me work on the Santos campaign?"

"Because you're invaluable," he answers quickly, and gives me a little smile. "I know you'll do a good job, regardless of whatever you think of me."

"Guess you can separate the professional from the personal after all," I murmur, and give him a smile in return.

"The Congressman doesn't think so," Josh says ruefully. "Why else would he dump us here?"

"Maybe he likes playing matchmaker," I grin, and flick a little bit more water at him. Josh flicks some back and, unable to leave it at that, I thrust both hands into the water, drenching him again.

"HEY!" he yells, kicking his feet in retaliation so the waves bounce up over us. I laugh, and kick my own feet, making waves to crash against his. The water boils around us, and, for one brief moment, I feel nothing but pure joy.

It's like I'm a child again and there's no anger, no hate, and no loneliness inside me. It's just Josh and I, and we're playing together as though we've never been apart. I miss the familiarity of us. I miss... I stop splashing around and drop my head into my hands.

"Donna?"

I look up at him and smile sadly, the frivolity of not thirty seconds ago vanishing. "We're just drifting aren't we? We have to sink or swim, Josh, we can't just sit in a lake, in Michigan, splashing water at each other and pretending everything's okay."

"That's a bad metaphor. You want to either drown or...?"

"Would drowning be so bad?" I ask. "Would swimming? I think maybe choices have to be made. And stuck by." I push back my wet hair and sigh, very tiredly. "Working things out leaves a lot to be deSired for."

"So we're working things out now?" Josh asks, nervously. "I mean, we're actually going to decide what our relationship should be, one way or the other?"

"Yes," I whisper, swirling my hands over the top of the water. It ripples against my touch, moving aside with the push of my fingers.

"So?"

I stay silent, watching my fingers just beneath the surface.

"Donna, it's just you and me here." He spreads his arms and twists around in the water. "No one else for miles. Talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling!"

"What am I FEELING?" I yell, furious that he could ask such a question, and upset that he has to ask when he used to know. Or at least, used to know how to comfort me when I was feeling...

"Yes, Donna, tell me what you're feeling right now. Not what you think, but what you feel," he reaches over, his fingers hovering over my chest, "in your heart."

I stare down at his hand, which drops back into the water with a splash.

"Please," he says softly.

I swirl the water a little more and sigh. "Nothing, Josh. I feel nothing."

"Don't lie to me; your face is like an open book, Donna."

"If you can read me so well, you tell me what I'm feeling," I shrug, and look over at him. He's staring at me, his brow furrowed, eyes down turned. I feel tightness in my chest as he drops his head and rubs his eyes.

"Josh?"

His head bounces up and he reaches over, his hand settling on my cheek as he pulls me towards him. "I've kissed you twice, and you never said anything, Donna. So, I'm going to try again."

"Josh, don't you think you're crossing the line here?"

"The boss assistant line?" he smirks and I nod. "I'm not your boss Donna, not technically anyway, so we can call it bending the line."

"Bending the-"

He cuts me off with the promised kiss.

His hand strokes my cheek, the other one sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck as he pulls me closer. His mouth is hot and urgent against mine and, with the warmth streaking all the way down to my toes, I lose the ability to stay upright and I fall against him.

He loses his balance and we go under the water, his mouth still pressed firmly against mine, but I don't have enough oxygen to stay there for long and I tug him back upwards out of the water, take a deep breath, and kiss him again.

And again.

I pull away for more air, and bite my lip. "So..." I begin.

"So," he nods, then reaches forward to kiss me again.

And again.

After a few minutes we break apart and smile shyly at each other. I brush a stray curl from his forehead, tucking it up behind the arm of his glasses, which have managed to stay on his head.

"I think we need to talk now. Properly," he whispers. "About us."

"I miss you," I say quickly. "That's what I feel. I'm lonely without you."

"I miss you too," he replies and smiles softly, leaning his forehead against mine. "So we're going to work this out?" he asks, after a minute of silence, and I nod.

"Yes."

And with that, we work things out. We sit in the lake, the sun beating down on our heads, and talk. Every few minutes we duck under the water to cool down but, for the most part, we talk. Words are thrown back and forth. Accusations are made, and resolved. Questions are asked, and answered.

Finally, when the accusations, questions, and words fade into silence, he reaches for me again, pressing his mouth to mine.

After awhile we stop kissing, because the wind has picked up, and the water is growing choppy of its own accord. I don't look at him as we struggle, waterlogged, out of the lake and up onto the shore.

His shirt, still knotted around my waist, is heavy on my shoulders, and I pull it off to wring the excess water out.

"Uh, Donna?"

I look up at Josh, who's staring blankly at me. "Yes?"

"You're right about your blouse," he says softly, and turns around, rocking on his heels in the sand.

"Don't be silly, Josh," I smile, and grab his hand as we walk back up the stairs to the wooden deck and our things. "Look if you want, I'm not going to slap you."

"I don't want to look," he mutters. "Can you just put my shirt back on?"

"Josh, you're wearing an undershirt. A very wet, very transparent, undershirt. If you're not embarrassed about me seeing your underwear, why should I be embarrassed by you seeing me in mine?"

"Because you've seen me in my underwear, Donna. Many times."

We reach the top of the stairs, and I hang his shirt over the bench to dry out in the sun. "So we should remedy that, you think?" Before he can answer I pull my blouse over my head, shake it out, and drape it over the railing.

I turn around and grin at him, "Because you're going to see me naked soon enough and you might as well get used to it."

Josh smiles widely and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me down to sit on the decking. "I just have to convince myself that I'm allowed to see you naked now. It may take a few minutes."

"You think this is what the Congressman wants?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"I have no idea what he wants. He told me to work it out. To me, working it out means you and I get to the place we should have been at years ago but, because we're both stupid, never managed to get there."

"Until now," I murmur.

"Until now," Josh agrees. "And we're definitely in that place?" He smiles at me, hopefully, and his fingers stroke my neck.

"Uh... yes, I think we are." I lean into his touch, and sigh softly. This sigh is one of contentment though, and I can tell it pleases him because his mouth replaces his fingers on my throat.

I sigh again and Josh's lips leave my neck to ask, "What are you thinking about?"

"A girl has to have her secrets," I tease.

"I think it's best we stop thinking now," he mutters, sliding his hands into my hair and gently dragging me down to lie next to him. "And stop talking as well."

"What do you suggest we do?" I whisper, my mouth mere inches away from his.

"I can think of a few things."

Part IV

So we don't talk anymore because there's really nothing more to be said. We've worked all the kinks out. Things are back to normal... actually, better than normal because I'm kissing Donna and she's kissing me and I'm happier than I've probably ever been in my life.

We don't talk because what's the point in talking now? Instead, we spend some time making out. More than 'some time' actually; after she pushes me away to get some air, I notice the sun has dipped low in the sky, our clothes - at least the ones we're wearing - are completely dry, and my stomach is rumbling like a bear.

Speaking of which... I hope there are no wild animals around. I wouldn't know how to handle even the smallest squirrel and I don't want Donna knowing how useless I am in the great outdoors.

Oh... whatever, she knows everything about me; there's no doubt she'd lie there, laughing insanely, while I made a fool of myself trying to chase the little rat away. Although squirrel shishkabob sounds appealing.

As if reading my thoughts - or at least hearing my stomach - Donna murmurs, "I'm hungry... you have any food?"

"Why yes, I did happen to have a fully loaded picnic basket... but I ate it before you got here," I tease.

"Shut up," she mutters, and nuzzles against my neck. "I'm going to faint if I don't eat soon."

"Give me your phone and I'll order Chinese."

"Funny," she smirks. "I'm going to have to teach you to cook, you know. I refuse to eat take out every night." Her fingers scratch lightly on my naked chest and I shiver involuntarily.

"We're not going to have time for culinary lessons, Donna," I rebuff softly, and tangle my fingers in her hair. "Not on the road."

Her fingers wander slowly around my ribs as mine slide from her hair to stroke her lower back. I've always had a particular fondness for the soft curve of her spine and, now it's officially mine for the taking, I'm going to play with it as much as I can.

She presses herself closer and says, "I mean after the campaign. When he's President there'll be some nights you're at home and you need to eat something that's good for you."

I kiss her forehead; despite lying in the shade for most of the afternoon, the sun has turned her skin a soft pink. "Then you do the cooking."

"Excuse me?" Her fingers dig into my ribs and I jump. Wrong thing to say.

"I don't mean that," I say quickly. "I only mean-"

Her nails are still pressing into my skin, warning me to tread carefully, as she looks up at me. "Yeees?"

"Donnnna," I whine, figuring that changing tactics will get me out of hot water. "I don't wanna learn to cook. It's easier to get take out."

"But it's not healthy for a man your age," she whispers and, before I can argue, she tips her head up and kisses me, and I lose all capacity for logical thought.

Why did I wait so long to kiss this woman? Everything she does makes me weak with deSire. The smell of her skin, the touch of her hands, the tickle of her tongue.

"Ummmm," I moan as she slides her body closer so she's half lying across my chest. Her leg curls over mine, ankle rubbing up my bare shin. God, she feels so good.

I lean into her, eager to spend another few hours making out but Donna breaks the kiss and rests her head under my chin, then says, "Josh, you're going to learn to cook."

"Okay, sure, whatever," I stammer, breathless and still a little foggy from the softness of her mouth.

"Good boy."

Uh... wow. How does she manage to do that? It's going to be hard to be the man in this relationship when one little kiss turns me to mush and gets her whatever she wants.

"So I'm going to learn to cook but that really doesn't help us now," I whine. If her kisses can send me to mush, maybe my whines can-

"Come to think of it... I have some water, will that shut you up?" Donna asks, sitting up and leaning up over my head to rummage through her bag. I stare upwards at her breasts hovering just above my face, my eyes wide as she stretches.

"Water would be good," I mutter weakly, my mouth dry and not just because I haven't eaten or drunk anything in more than seven hours.

"Here then," Donna slides her body back down onto mine, and unscrews the lid of the bottle, taking a swig before offering it to me.

"Thanks." I take the bottle with my free hand, the other already slipping down to rest on her naked back. I drain half the water then hand it back to her. She finishes it off and drops the bottle onto the deck.

The water seems to have taken the edge of my hunger and we lie in the shade, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. I'm not so much a fan of nature, as everyone knows, but lying here with Donna snuggled up against me, my hand stroking her back and her fingers playing with... hold on...

Okay, her fingers are toying with the belt loops of my pants, sliding over the waistband, and I try not to think about anything other than the picturesque sunset. Isn't it nice. Red. Um... golden?

No, not working. I cover her wandering hand with mine, and link my fingers through hers. "Stop that."

"Mmm," she hums lazily. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" I hiss, holding her hand away from my pants.

She presses her face into my shoulder and starts laughing softly. "Josh, I'm sure you can wait a little bit longer.

"Keep moving your hand down there and you'll see just how long I can't wait," I growl, and roll her over. She shrieks with laughter but, as I cover her mouth with mine, the laughter dissolves into soft whimpers.

She so soft and warm and I'm thinking maybe... right here and now... wouldn't be such a bad idea, and my fingers are venturing closer to territories unknown and she's curling her legs around mine and-

"JOSH?"

"What?" I mutter, blearily, still lost in the warmth of Donna's arms.

"I didn't say anything," she whispers, eyes wide with confusion.

"Josh, you still here?"

"Oh God!" I hiss. "The Congressman."

Donna pushes me off and I grab my shirt from the decking and hastily button it while she smoothes down her skirt. I reach a hand out and help her to her feet.

"Oh God!" I repeat, more panicked this time. "Donna put your clothes on."

Donna looks down at her half naked body, and back up at me. "You don't think he'd mind seeing me in just a bra and skirt?" she raises her eyebrows, then drops them and rolls her eyes. "Josh, would you relax?"

I pull her shirt from the railing and throw it at her head. "Just put it on."

She complies as "JOSH!" filters out again from the trees.

"How's this then?" Donna asks, as she straightens her skirt again and reaches to pull her jacket on. She leaves it unbuttoned as she drags her fingers through her hair in an attempt to loosen the knots.

"Stockings?"

"Josh, the Congressman is the one who dumped us here in nearly a hundred degree weather. You think he's really going to mind if my stockings are missing?"

Well I figured he'd dumped us here in some lame attempt at matchmaking - something I'm going to have to both yell and congratulate him on at a later date - but I don't know if he actually wanted us to actually DO anything.

"No, but you look..." I wave my hands at her. "Rumpled. Like you've been doing... things."

"We have been doing things, Josh. Wet things, dry things. Kissing things," she grins. "Are you complaining that I look bad because of the kissing?"

"Noooo, Donna you look..." I clench my fists to avoid reaching for her and doing something that would definitely get us both fired. "...really, really good. But-"

"But?"

"Donna, I don't want the future President of the United States to think you and I had sex here."

"But I suppose it doesn't matter that he knows we kissed?" Donna gives me another eye roll, and shakes her head again. "You're insane."

I roll down the cuffs of my pants and shove my feet into my socks and shoes. "No, Donna, I just don't want him to imagine you and me having sex, okay?"

"It's a good thing he's coming now and not in five minutes. There'd have been no need to imagine anything then."

"Donna!" I hiss. "Shhhh!"

"Okaaay," she drawls as another shout echoes through the trees.

"JOSHUA!"

"Down here, Congressman," I yell back. "Right where you abandoned us." I turn to face Donna who's laughing as she gathers our things. "What's so funny?"

She grins, and hands me my jacket. "You are. But now I'm thinking I'm the insane one to have said yes to you."

"You can't back out now," I say quickly, taking the jacket from her outstretched fingers. I slide my arms into the sleeves and button it up. She hooks her bag over her shoulder and reaches out to grab my hand.

"I never break my word, Josh," she whispers, and leans in to give me a kiss. "You're stuck with me forever."

"And you with me," I reply, and kiss her back. Softly, at first, then harder. She moans and I almost forget that my boss is about to-

"Joshua Lyman!" The Congressman, emerging from the trees with his entourage of agents, shouts reprovingly.

Reluctantly, I remove my lips from Donna, and smile in embarrassment. "Uh, sorry, Sir. Hi, guys," I hold up a hand to the agents in greeting. They nod at me, and take up flanking positions around the decking.

Santos strides over to us, frowning thoughtfully. "Kissing the staff? Josh, I'm ashamed at you."

I smile again, a little worried this time. "Come on, Sir, that's what you wanted us to do."

Donna snuggles closer to me and my heart starts to beat faster. She's still warm and soft and... perhaps I need to stop thinking about that while the Congressman is staring bemusedly at me.

"Uh..." Santos pauses and then points at us. "I send you two down here to sort out the coldness between you and you end up..." He starts laughing, "You two... I didn't actually mean you should literally kiss and make up."

"Well it was more like kiss and make out, Sir," Donna says softly. I squeeze her hand in warning and she tries to hide her own embarrassed smile. "Sorry, Sir."

Santos rolls his eyes at both of us. "Donna, he didn't talk you into anything, did he?" When she shakes her head, he looks at me and asks, with amusement in his voice, "Josh, what have you two done?"

Donna smiles as I turn my head between them... did I miss something here? "You told me to work it out!" I grumble, annoyed that they both seem to be finding it so funny. "You dumped us both in the middle of nowhere so we'd work stuff out."

"And we did," Donna adds. "It may have been a little inappropriate to attempt matchmaking but it seems to have worked, Sir." She smiles again, "Thanks."

"Matchmaking?" Santos tips his head to the side. "I didn't..."

"Why else would you dump us here other than to get us to admit our feelings? Which, as is patently obvious, we did," I ask, confused.

"The friendship, Josh! I wanted you to be friends again because your head wasn't in the game. I needed you fully focused, and I needed Donna fully focused too." The Congressman cocks an eyebrow and continues to grin widely. "I wanted you on speaking terms but only you would think 'working it out' meant 'making out', as Donna so succinctly put it."

"There wasn't much, uh... making out, Sir. We had a swim and talked about things, and yes, there was some kissing and stuff, but um..." I trail off as Santos' eyes widen.

"Josh, I'm gonna stop you right there," he holds up his hand with another smile. "There's such a thing as too much information, even in politics, and you're just about hitting the threshold."

"Well, Sir, I..."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you were an overachiever, Josh?" He shakes his head, smirking. "Next you'll be saying you got down on one knee and proposed."

"Uh..." I begin, not quite sure if he'll like the answer. This time Donna squeezes my hand, reassuringly, and speaks for me. 

"He's too old to get down on one knee and, if he did, he might have drowned," she grins and, when I open my mouth to complain, she continues, "and we figured it'd save some money if we were to share the same hotel room while on the road. And of course, now we're actually talking, it might be a lot easier to get you elected President."

"So it's for the good of the campaign?" Santos grins. "That sounds like one of your game plans, Josh."

"No, Sir, it isn't a game plan. I didn't go down on one knee because, as she said, I might have drowned, but I did ask her. And the only reason I asked her is because I'm in love with her," I say quickly. "And she's in love with me, and we want to spend the rest of our lives together." Donna looks over at me and smiles softly, nodding.

"Josh, as I've said before, I really don't care what you do in your personal life as long as the campaign doesn't suffer because of it." He smiles. "That being said... congratulations."

"Glad you approve," I say, tightening my grip on Donna's hand. "Because we're getting married as soon as possible. And we'll get it out of the way so we can concentrate on the campaign."

"Isn't he wonderful," Donna simpers sarcastically as she elbows me. "What Josh is trying to say, in his uniquely inept way, is that our relationship won't interfere with our work, Sir."

"Yes, Sir. That's exactly what I mean," I mutter, glad that Donna hasn't felt the need to slap me which would cause everyone assembled to lose all respect for me as a man.

No one needs to know who's really going to be wearing the pants in our marriage.

I attempt to redeem myself, at least in Donna's eyes. "Uh... by any chance, you're not a Justice of the Peace are you, Sir?"

"No, but I know a few people back in DC," Santos grins again. "And I really think you and I definitely need to work out some sort of signal now, Josh."

"Signal, Sir?"

"To avoid the accidental walking in on each other?"

Oh God, I knew it! He's thinking about Donna and me having sex.

"Sir!"

Santos starts laughing and tips his head towards the path leading back to the road. "Come on, I saved you a bag of food from the luncheon. I'm sure you guys are hungry."

"Starving, Sir," I admit, giving Donna's hand another squeeze.

"Me too," she adds, giving me a smile that, paired with an eyebrow waggle as we follow the Congressman back to civilization, leads me to believe she's just not talking about food.