A/N: I've barely finished one story, and now I'm on to another? Somebody stop me.

I've actually wanted to post this for a while, but didn't want to have it going simultaneously with Prodigal Son. You guys made it clear that that story deserved my full attention, haha. I'll be happy if you guys like this one even half as much.

I probably won't be as focused on this story as I was with Prodigal Son, as I've got some stuff in the works for Orphan Collective, Inevitable, and A Collection too. But if I receive a lot of feedback, I'll definitely prioritize accordingly.

This story is somehow both a little angsty and kind of fun. It's set in season 6. I'm enjoying writing it, and I hope you all enjoy it as well!

Rating: T? Probably?

Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine, evermore, you get it.

Reviews: Always!

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Frankly, Will Bailey was nervous about the campaign manager gig. The largest campaign he'd worked on was for California's 47th district, and though the race did attract national attention, it was mostly in the form of a shared national laugh at Will's expense. He moved up in the world a little bit when he became White House deputy Communications Director, but he wasn't exactly a key player in the administration. Mostly he felt he was on the outside looking in, or was being tagged in from the bench due to an unfortunate sprain - not due to any real talent or intellect on his part.

At least the Vice President seemed to value him. Whereas Toby expected him to always be self sacrificial, idealistic, and never looking for a word of gratitude or praise, Will's job in the VP's office allowed him to be a little more political and out for himself. Honestly, it felt good. He got into politics for the right reasons, but he was tired of being a side show.

Nonetheless, he didn't feel nearly ready to head a national campaign. It didn't help that he knew barely any of his staff, and they barely knew him. To them, he was a political machine, an interchangeable giver of unquestioned orders. He wasn't the dorky idealist he knew himself to be, or that his former colleagues in the West Wing (as much as they'd under appreciated him) knew him to be as well.

That was why he thanked God for Donna Moss.

"Hey Donna." He greets, stopping by her desk on his way to the staff meeting.

She stands up, prepared to walk in with him. "Hey Will." She says brightly. "Bastards got you down?"

This elicits a small smile. "You could say that."

"Which ones this time? The opposition, or your own staff?"

"Well..."

"Or hazelnut flavored coffee? I got a cup this morning by mistake and I've been in a bad mood since." Though she doesn't look it.

Her quirky sense of humor never fails to brighten his day. "I like hazelnut coffee."

"Monster." She says flatly.

He wishes he'd gotten to know Donna better while they were at the White House. He could've used a friend like her. But then, she was always attached to Josh at the hip, and Will has no doubt that the former deputy Chief of Staff would've had something to say about any relationship, platonic or otherwise, between her and Will.

"It's my own staff, this time."

"Oh yeah?"

"When I tried to get someone to argue with me last night about the coal call, no one took the bait. They just stared."

"You've gotta remember that they're just as scared of you as you are of them."

"Somehow, I doubt it."

He slows in the hallway, as Donna has stopped suddenly behind him. He furrows his brow as she reaches out and clutches the wall with one hand, the other coming to her stomach.

"Donna?" He says in concern, reaching out one hand toward her.

She shakes her head to ward him off. In an instant, she's turned and sprinted back to the bullpen, where she grabs the nearest trash can and bends over it, retching.

Will looks away out of respect, and a little bit out of a sympathetic wave of nausea. "Oh my god, Donna. Are you okay?"

She shakes her head again as she straightens up, dismissive. "I'm fine." She rasps from behind a tissue that covers her mouth.

"You're sure?"

She breathes heavily. "Fine."

"You sick?"

She shakes her head. "Must be food poisoning or something."

"You really hate hazelnut coffee that much?" He chances a joke.

He earns a weak smile. "C'mon. Your staff awaits."

"No, we don't have to go right now, if you need a minute-"

"You can't hide from them all day, Will. Let's go."

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The next morning, Will finds Donna in the hotel lobby. She's sitting alone at a table, picking half heartedly at a muffin. Her eyes are shadowed, her skin pale and waxy.

"Sick, after all?"

She shrugs. "Guess so. Maybe just tired."

"You look kinda sick."

"Gee, thanks." She rolls her eyes. "You don't look so great yourself."

"Being the boss is taxing."

"I'm sure."

"You're sure you're okay to go on the bus with us today?"

"Yes." She nods resolutely. "You couldn't get by without me."

He smiles a little. "There's some truth to that."

"You're the brains. I'm the people person."

"Hey, you've got some brains too."

"First I 'look sick' and now I've got 'some' brains? Gosh, Will Bailey, you sure know how to win a girl's heart."

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A week later, Donna's illness doesn't seem to have cleared up. She looks more pale and tired by the day, and she's ducked out of more than a few meetings to run to the bathroom. The long days certainly haven't helped any, nor has the fact that her nausea has kept her from drinking coffee.

Will starts to worry.

"Donna." He starts, looking over at her. She's in the seat next to his on the bus, wrapped in a blanket. "I'm worried about you."

"Why?"

"You're still sick."

She sighs. "I'm fine, Will."

"You could have a parasite or something."

She chuckles. "I don't have a parasite."

"You should get yourself checked out. You don't have a lot of excess weight to lose."

She raises her eyebrows at him.

"Sorry."

"That's okay." She reaches out to pat his arm. "You're sweet, Will. But honestly? I don't know that it's a virus. I think it might be nerves."

"Nerves?" He repeats, surprised.

"Yeah. This is a big change, you know. New job, new places, new people... Mostly." She gives him a smile. "It's a lot, you know? I'm still adjusting."

"Nerves? That's all this is?" He asks dubiously.

She doesn't look at him. "Yeah."

Will watches her as she eventually closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep. As much as he's loathe to admit it, he's developing a certain soft spot for his coworker. He may be having a hard time with his new job, but here is Donna Moss, throwing up every day over a similar change. It's almost on brand for her, caring so much that she makes herself sick.

It's kind of sweet. She makes him feel a certain youthfulness and idealism, that he hadn't felt since the Horton Wilde campaign. And he likes it.

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A week later, the nerves have cleared. Donna's strength has returned, bit by bit, and her usual glow graces her skin once more. Will is happy to see it.

His joy doesn't last too long. He walks outside into the parking lot for some air after a particularly heated meeting (at least the staff is arguing with him!), and finds Donna leaning against the brick wall, hugging her arms to herself to ward off the cold and crying profusely.

"Donna." He says, stunned.

She look at him blearily, and hastily wipes her face on a sleeve. "Will."

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Her composure doesn't last long. She hiccups, and soon thereafter a sob escapes. "Oh, Will, it's... It's nothing, don't worry about me. Please."

"I am worried." He says earnestly. "C'mon, talk to me? Was it something that happened today? Did I do anything?"

"No, no." She says quickly. He hadn't been able to recall anything, but his stomach eases, nonetheless. "It's nothing like that. It's..." She sniffs. "Personal."

"Oh." That stops him short. "Well, I don't know that I'll be of much help, but-"

"Oh, Will." She gives him a wan smile through a layer of tears and probably a little snot. Her hair is stuck to her cheeks, and he wouldn't be surprised if it froze there in another few minutes. She's beautiful and strong in most moments, which is what makes this vulnerable one all the more affecting. He wants to take care of her. "I'll be fine. Please."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"I... I don't know." She drops her chin to her chest. Her red rimmed eyes fall shut, and she takes a steadying breath. "It's just... So much is changing at once, you know?"

"Sure." He says. But he doesn't know. The change had been fairly welcome for him. Evidently, she hadn't wanted this escape as much as he had. Maybe he'd misjudged the situation. "You miss the West Wing."

She looks up, surprised. Maybe he'd been too insightful. "I... Yes. No. I don't know."

"You miss your friends."

"Yes."

"You miss Josh." He guesses, and saying it prods at something in his ribcage. He was stupid to think they'd been building some sort of connection. Obviously, she was still hung up on the one she had with her last boss. Her last will they/won't they, are they/aren't they, strangely close, somewhere between coworkers, friends, and something else, partner in crime.

"No." She denies adamantly. "No, I do not."

"Oh. Okay." He hopes he doesn't sound as relieved as he feels.

"It's not that. It's anything but that."

"You don't have to explain anything to me."

She turns to him with those wide, teary blue eyes, and he's such a sucker. "Oh, Will. You're so great."

Hesitantly, as if he's afraid she'll jerk back, he reaches out a hand to push the wet hair out of her face. "It's nothing. I just want you to know I'm here for you."

"It means a lot."

"Hey, it's us against them, right? The staff, the opposition, hazelnut coffee. Don't let the bastards get you down."

She smiles a little. "Right."

She pulls him into a hug, and he pretends not to suffice when she shudders with a few more sobs.

As much as he may seem like a cog in the political machine these days, the thing that appeals to Will most about Donna Moss is her raw humanity.

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A few days later, things have been going well for Will, and he thinks for Donna as well. Admittedly, they struggled a little with an upsurge from the Santos campaign, and again with a swing from Hoynes, but they're recovering. And on a personal basis, it's been smooth sailing.

Donna's parking lot meltdown seems to have brought them closer, for which Will is grateful. He's not sure he wants things to go any further, because he knows that he wouldn't be able to do this without her. Whereas she was once just a friendly face, Will has started to be unable to imagine the campaign without her. He's not sure he'd have the will to get up every morning.

When he finally extends an ambiguous offer to her, it's because he can't help himself. They're winding down in yet another hotel lobby, and Will can't possibly imagine spending the night with anyone else. He's tired, and lonely, and she is as beautiful as always, stirring his fatigue and loneliness into something more potent and meaningful.

"Can I buy you a drink?" It's stupid and cliché, but it's all he's got.

Donna looks at him with a surprised smile. "What?"

"A drink. You, me." He's a speechwriter, for god's sake. He should be able to do better than this.

"Oh." She tucks her hair behind her ear, and looks down at her lap. "I don't..."

"I mean, you're not going to leave me with these people, are you?" He can feel it start to slip through his fingers. He's gotta backtrack. Make the offer more friendly, more about their mutual loathing for their dull coworkers than their mutual affection for each other.

"They're your staff, Will." She's stalling.

"Still."

"I think you'll be okay."

"I don't know."

"Anyway, I, um, can't."

"You can't?"

"I can't have a drink with you." She says apologetically. For some reason, she looks a little shifty. A little uncomfortable. Maybe she'd cottoned on to his true intent. "I would love to, but I'm exhausted, and I could really use the extra sleep, and..."

"It's only eight."

"Yeah, and who knows when this kind of opportunity will arise again?" She attempts a grin.

Exactly, he thinks sadly. "Well, okay. I guess I understand. Have a good night."

"Thanks, Will." She reaches out and squeezes his hand before leaving.

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"Fancy digs." Elsie comments as she slows inside Will's office, looking around. It's her first time visiting the Russell campaign.

"Thanks."

"I notice you poached Donna Moss, from the White House." She'd seen her in the bullpen. "How'd you manage that one?" She takes a seat comfortably in Will's desk chair.

"What do you mean?" He says quickly.

"Well, last I checked, she and Josh Lyman were pretty inseparable. Why isn't she over there on the great Quixotic Santos campaign?"

"Because she doesn't want to be." Will says defensively. "She asked me for a job, okay? She wants to work here."

"Okay, big brother." Elsie says bemusedly. "Somebody's a little touchy."

"I'm not..." Will trails off in a sigh. "Actually, maybe you could help me with something."

"What?"

"With Donna."

Elsie merely raises her eyebrows.

"It's not like that. I'm worried about her."

"Why?"

"Well, a few weeks ago, she got really sick. She was throwing up almost every morning. And she told me it was nerves, you know, from the new job. Which is weird, right? And then after that, when I thought she was better, I found her crying in the parking lot. And then, just last week, I offered to buy her a drink, you know, hoping to get her to destress a little, and she went to bed instead. She's actually been sleeping a lot, you know."

Elsie gives him an inscrutable look.

"I don't know, maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I think maybe she's depressed. It's hard to tell, because she's a naturally cheerful person, but, I don't know." He finishes lamely. He feels himself heating up under Elsie's stare. He's just revealed how invested he is in this employee - she can probably see right through him. "I don't know. What do you think?"

His sister folds her arms. "Well, geez, Will, next you'll tell me she turned down a plate of soft cheese and sushi."

Will isn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "I... What?"

"Throwing up, crying randomly? Not drinking and sleeping a lot? Will, it sounds like she's pregnant."

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Will finds her at her desk, blowing on a mug of hot tea. Last week, he wouldn't have noticed, but now he's on edge. "Since when do you drink tea?"

She looks up at him, a little confused. "Since too much caffeine can give you a heart attack?"

"You've had a lot today?"

She looks away from him. "Well... Yeah."

His stomach drops at the look in her eyes. He takes a chair from one of the vacant desks and plops it across from hers. "Donna, listen... I need to ask you something."

"What?" Her eyes are wide and concerned, as if she knows what's coming.

"This is going to sound weird, and overly personal, and forgive me if I'm stepping over the line, but..."

"What?" She urges, her voice gaining anxiety.

He finally looks at her. "Are you... Pregnant, possibly?"

She doesn't need to answer. Her face says it all.

"It's none of my business, I-"

"Will, listen. I am pregnant, okay? It was only a matter of time before someone figured it out." She shakes her head. "It's okay. You have a right to know. You're my employer."

Right. That's the capacity he should be taking this news in. "I just wish you'd told me, so I... So the campaign could be a bit more understanding."

"No, you've been great! And, I only found out a couple weeks ago."

Something clicks. "The parking lot..."

"That was the day I found out." She confirms.

He remembers how lost and scared she looked. "So I guess... Congratulations aren't in order?"

She smiles a little. "No, it's okay. I've come to terms with it. I'm even a little bit excited. When I'm not, you know, terrified."

"Right." He has no idea what to say. Hell, he has no idea what he should be feeling, but he's sure this isn't it.

"I haven't told anyone. Hell, I haven't even told the father." She blurts, but then immediately looks embarrassed.

"You haven't?"

A blush tinges her cheeks. "No. Not yet. I'm waiting until three months, you know, that's when they say you should tell people..."

Yeah, but that's most people. Not the father. "So you're not still... Involved, with him?"

"No." She says softly. "I'm not."

"Oh."

She scrutinizes his expression. "It's okay to want to know."

"What?" He plays dumb.

"It's okay to want to know who the father is."

He looks down guiltily. He'd definitely been wondering. "Do I know him?"

She shrugs. "Yeah."

"How?"

"DC is a big city... But really, it's a small town."

He was a DC insider, then. "You don't have to tell me."

"I wasn't going to." She says simply.

He shifts uncomfortably. "Listen, if there's anything you need..."

She smiles at his display of thoughtfulness. "Nothing, Will. But thank you."

"Of course." He doesn't look at her. He feels a little nauseous, himself, and kind of wants to go sit in his office with the lights off. Preferably without Elsie gloating.

"Oh, there is one thing!" She says as he stands up to leave.

"Yeah?"

"I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, in DC. I'll be there anyway to work on the Senate vote, that's why I scheduled it. But since you know, I'll ask: it's okay if I take a couple hours off for that, right?"

He breathes a sigh of relief. She hadn't asked him to accompany her to Lamaze class, or anything absurd like he'd imagined. "Of course."

"Thanks, Will." She says brightly. She appears relieved to have the secret finally off her chest.

Will is anything but relieved.

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When Donna enters the Santos campaign headquarters, she's surprised to find that their climb in the polls hadn't yet translated to a nicer office. The place still has commercial signs stuffed against wall, and a few buckets are scattered across the floor, catching drips from the morning rain.

She spies Josh across the room, talking to a handful of staffers in his usual harried manner. There's something different about him, though. She's noticed it over the past few months.

He looks tired, and thinner. He lacks most of his usual humor, and even the characteristic boyishness. If she didn't know him better, she probably wouldn't notice how lost he is.

She's sure his staffers see him as infallible, a political machine powered by red bull and white board markers. But she knows him better than that. He's floundering. Though he was in charge of a staff of hundreds for more than six years, this is a different beast entirely. He isn't surrounded by his friends, his allies. He doesn't have Leo or the President to fall back on.

It's all him. He's always felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, and now moreso than ever. She's sure he's slowly being crushed.

And, she realizes with a stab of guilt, he doesn't have her anymore. To shoulder some of the burden. To talk him down when he gets too obsessive, to remind him to take a breath or eat something. To make sure he's sleeping.

She's been worried about him.

He sees her across the room, and for a moment, she catches a glimpse of the old Josh. He looks at her the same way he might've last year, when she walked into the bullpen. A slightly raised eyebrow, half a smirk. As if just the mere fact of them looking at each other is some sort of inside joke.

He approaches her, his expression becoming more wary as he does so. He's surprised. Floored, actually. She can't help but take a little pleasure in having totally floored Josh Lyman.

"Hey." He greets. "What are you doing here?" It's not harsh, just curious. A little reserved, maybe. He's holding out judgment.

She steadies herself. She's been anticipating this moments for weeks. Now that it's arrived, she isn't sure how to feel. Somehow, 'glad to see him' is at the top of the list.

She takes a deep breath. "I need to talk to you about something."

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Aggh what's going to happen? I had to leave you with a cliffhanger because I'm awful ;)

Also, poor Will, am I right?

Please let me know what you think, and if you're interested in me continuing this! Thanks for reading!