A/N: What is up with me this week? I'm just churning out content ;) Let's hope I can keep it up.

Thank you so much to all of you who have kept up with this story. I've greatly enjoyed your feedback and support. I love you guys! I hope you enjoy this last piece.

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Four years later

One moment, the children are coloring peacefully; Noah on an assignment for school, and Elise on scrap paper that is probably a classified briefing memo. But at least they're quiet. That is until Noah spills a large tube of glitter glue over the table and onto his sister's drawing, and all hell breaks loose. She begins to scream, and cry, and Noah begins to yell, and paper is ripped, and glue is further dispersed, and hitting and biting (Elise's favorite bad habit) soon follow. At least one of them has yelled "Moooooommmmm!" several times, but for the life of her, Donna can't move.

She stands in the kitchen, staring out over the counter, the walls rapidly closing in.

The thing is, she's not so good at this anymore. The moments when things go from tranquil to chaotic in a split second. Whereas she was once able to turn on a dime, to tackle and diffuse situations with ease and in stride, she now finds herself constantly floundering. She is always two steps behind.

Josh appears from somewhere and lifts one of them off the other, subjected to a fair bit of screaming and hitting himself. Before she knows what she's doing, she leaves the kitchen, turning into the first door on the hall. She closes the bathroom door behind her and sinks onto the cold tile floor, breathing ragged.

She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her forehead against them, hoping that by condensing herself as much as possible, she will be able to contain this.

Lately, she feels unable to contain anything.

Maybe ten minutes later, the screaming has ceased, and the turmoil inside of her begins to die down too. Before she's calmed down, though, Josh lets himself in, closes the door behind him, and sinks onto the floor beside her without hesitation.

"Hey." He greets casually.

She doesn't respond.

He places a hand on her shoulder, and begins to gently rub her back. "I know, kids, right? They're monsters."

She doesn't say anything, but her breathing begins to even out.

"But, still, Donna, c'mon. You're being a little hysterical, don't you think? But then, I was warned. Blondes are hysterical. You know who told me that? Your Uncle Henry, at our wedding reception. He said that blondes just love drama. They're constantly in hysterics. What a wise man. Should've listened to him."

"You're not going to get me to laugh." She chokes out.

"I'll settle for a smile."

That, she can manage. The corner of her mouth quirks up, barely visible.

"It's okay. Just breathe. Might be easier if you weren't so balled up, but you can work on that when you're ready. Just breathe for now."

It is so unlike the personality he usually projects, this calm and soothing side of him. Few are lucky enough to have seen it, but she is semi-familiar with it. She has seen it when he is reassuring Noah after a scraped knee, or soothing a crying baby. She has even seen it used for her sake, when she was lying in a hospital bed, and later on an operating table, earlier that year.

She breathes, in and out. In and out. "I'm sorry." She mutters.

"Don't be."

"But I-"

"Donna. It's okay." He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her toward him. She readily collapses against him, burying her head in his chest.

"I'm a terrible mother." She says, voice muffled.

"No you're not."

"I am." She refutes miserably.

"You really aren't. You're having a rough time of it right now, but hey, that's what I'm here for."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? If I can put a hole through our window while our infant son is sleeping and still be an okay father, you've really got nothing to apologize for."

"Josh-"

"That's not me feeling guilty, by the way. That's just a reminder that we all fuck up." He smiles softly. "In fact, a very wise person once told me that parents are just people doing the best they can."

She half-smiles again. "Was it Gandhi?"

"Yeah. It was Gandhi."

"Okay."

"Donna, you're the greatest mother I know. Hands down."

"I'm going to tell Ruth you said that."

"So be it." He runs his hand over her arm. "Seriously. You've gone above and beyond the call for six years. I think I can allow you this one. In fact, I think you're entitled to several hundred more of these before I can start to complain."

She sighs. "I hate this."

"I know you do."

"I feel... Helpless."

"It really sucks, doesn't it?"

She nods. She breathes deeply for a few more minutes, allowing the worst of the storm to pass. "How are you so calm about all of this?" She asks, finally.

He shrugs. "To use Leo's words, 'I've been down here before. And I know the way out.'"

"Still."

"I don't know. I guess it's different. We were in uncharted territory then. We were still struggling to deal with the fact that we were parents when Roslyn happened. And I don't blame you for freaking out, it must've been terrifying. All of it. And I didn't make it easy."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, well."

"And I'm not exactly making it easy now."

He shrugs again. "Well, it's not your fault either. And at least we've got the rest of our lives sorted out this time, you know? Most of it, anyway. That helps."

"Right."

"That's not to say I'm not worried. 'Cause I am."

"I know." She says softly. It had been hard on him in the same way that it had been hard on her. He hated to be away from her. He grew anxious when she didn't answer her phone, or she wasn't in her office. He woke sometimes in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, having relived the worst night of his entire life - Roslyn used to hold claim to that title, but had been usurped by the night he hadn't known if his wife would live or die.

"Really worried. Crazy, neurotic, you-levels of worry."

"Right."

"But you kept it together for me. So, here I am."

"I didn't keep it all together. I left."

"Why is everything a competition with you? We can't keep score here, Donnatella, because it won't come out in my favor. I'm not leaving, okay? Try as you might, you're not getting rid of me."

She smiles, swallowing guilt. "I'm glad."

"Good." He starts to play with her hair. "It's going to be okay, alright? It'll be fine."

"Well, if you say so."

"I do." He starts his next sentence carefully. "I think you should see someone."

Her brow furrows. "That's not a very nice thing to say to your wife."

"Donna..."

She sighs. "Maybe you're right."

He relaxes at her agreement, and tries another attempt at humor. "I've always thought you were crazy. Now I've finally got my chance to ship you off to a shrink."

"Blondes and their hysteria, right?"

"Right." Half-serious, he offers, "And we could go away, if you wanted. Finally do Europe."

She chuckles dryly. "No, thanks."

"Okay. Well, standing offer. We could ship the kids off, just say the word." He jokes.

"Someday our children would have to reconcile the fact that every time either one of us is having a mental breakdown, we 'ship them off'."

"Mm. Someday Noah's going to learn how to subtract nine months from his birthday, and he'll have to reconcile the fact that we had a shotgun wedding."

She grins. "And someday they'll both be able to do that, and they'll figure out that we get reckless on election nights."

"Hey, Elise probably wasn't conceived on election night."

"You're right. Being conceived on Halloween is a much more romantic story."

"That was your fault!"

"My fault?"

"Yeah. The costume. I couldn't help myself."

She snorts. "Oh yeah. That's my fault."

"Yeah." They settle into a lull, thinking about all of the decisions that have led them to today. All of the moments that have made them. "But, we did okay, you know." He says seriously.

"Right." She doesn't feel like she's doing so okay right now. Brusquely, she sits up, ready to move on. "So, the kids are okay?"

He doesn't totally buy into her distraction. He takes her hand tenderly. "Yeah, they're okay. In holding, presently."

"In timeout?"

"Yeah. I think Elise was ready to fall asleep though, so I don't know how much she's 'thinking about what she did'."

She looks at him closely for the first time. "You've got glitter glue on your shirt."

"Oh, yeah. Cleaned the table, though."

"And in your hair! God, Josh."

He smiles sheepishly. "I was thinking that my look could use a little pizazz."

She bites her lip, and blinks rapidly to fight back welling tears of profound gratitude. She reaches out a hand to touch the side of his face. "I don't deserve you."

"That's my line." He bats back easily, but his gaze warms. He grabs her outstretched hand and presses her knuckles to his lips.

A single tear spills over. "I love you." She says softly.

"I know. I love you too." His eyes move hesitantly to the door. "It's quiet out there." He says suspiciously.

"Too quiet." She agrees.

"I should probably go check that Noah didn't find the safety scissors, and, you know, give Elise an impromptu haircut." He'd done it to the neighbor's dog, once.

"Probably."

He stands and helps her up with him. He hesitates with his hands in hers, staring into her watery eyes. "It gets better." He feels the need to reassure her.

"Thanks." She purses her lips. "When did you get so good at handling crazy, by the way?"

He could make a joke about how she's always been crazy, and today is just a new level. But he doesn't. "Learned from the best." He murmurs, and leans in to kiss her forehead.

She had held the pieces together for him. And now, he is determined to do the same for her.

"You're so full of it." She jokes as he opens the door, trying to hide how touched she is.

He shrugs, smiling. "Maybe."

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And that's a wrap! :) Thanks to your enthusiasm, I plan to write in this AU again (title TBD) so look out for that. Thanks for reading!