He had another fight with Amy. They don't banter. They bicker. Sometimes it turned her on, but it did nothing for him.

She always went too far. She didn't mind drawing blood. It was politics first, and damn the rest.

He'd had enough. He had slammed back his scotch. He had thrown money down on the bar.

She'd looked disgruntled. Pointed to her still-full drink and said she wasn't ready to go.

He'd told her it was over. But had it really ever begun?

He had planned to walk home.

At first, he had been surprised to find himself outside of Donna's apartment.

A quick self-evaluation told him he wasn't drunk. When someone left, he had grabbed the door. And he had realized that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

She had answered the knocking. Opened the door with a surprised look. She was wearing pajamas. Her eyes bloodshot. Rimmed in red. A tissue in her hand.

She had been crying.

She's not fine.

But she steps back and let's him in the room.

As he takes off his coat and throws it over a chair, he spots the diary on the coffee table, a pen marking the place where she'd been writing.

"That damn diary! Why didn't you burn it after the trouble it caused?"

She flinches a little, but then straightens her spine and volleys back.

"It wasn't the diary that caused the trouble! It was me. . . It was you. . . It was Cliff."

"And it was Amy." He adds softly.

"As much as I would love to blame Amy, how is this her fault?"

"She's not you."

Her eyes fill up again. But there is hope shining in them.

And then he can't hold back any longer. He takes her arms and crushes her to him. His lips crashing down on hers in desperation. This is all he wants.

No one else will ever do.

She melts against him and returns his passion.

For a moment.

But then she pushes him away.

"Stop. I can't do this again. I can't fall back into bed with you and pretend that casual sex is enough."

"I don't want casual sex."

"You don't?"

"I want your soul. I want every bit of you. I want every gomer in this city to know that you're taken. I want every politician who thinks that they can use you or hurt you to know they'd have to get through me first."

He feels the weight of his secret fall off him. He's made his declaration. He's all in.

She looks scared.

When he finally realizes that, he reels back. The knowledge of her fright hits him like a physical blow.

"If I give you my soul, how will I survive when you walk away?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"If I give you every bit of me, what will I get in return?"

"All that I am. All that I have."

He hesitates for just a moment, but his eyes are shining. "Including my last name, eventually, if you'll take it."

She's physically shaking.

But she doesn't back away and he pulls her back into his arms. He holds her tight, and whispers into her ear.

"God. I love you. Don't you know that? I'd marry you tomorrow if it meant never losing you again."

This time she does push him away. But her eyes are sparkling. She slaps him soundly on his bicep.

"Was that meant to be a proposal? God. I'm going to do you a solid favor and let you re-do that. NOT tomorrow. Sometime in the future. We don't need to rush this. But it can't be like before."

He grins, and sweeps her up into his arms. He carries her back toward her bedroom.

"I'll take an ad out in Roll Call."

He dumps her on to the bed. He toes off his shoes. And pulls his sweater over his head.

"I didn't mean that we have to announce anything. I just mean, it has to mean something."

"It means everything. It always has."

"Really?"

"Really."

"By the way, I love you too."