Title: Stopping For a Beer on Thanksgiving Eve

Author: Tinkerbell99

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The characters are not my creation, they belong to someone else.

Spoiler: 17 People

Summary: And that is how I came to be standing in the middle of aisle 4, face to face with Dr. Freeride. He starts to mumble and does a fantastic impersonation of a deer about to die. I need an escape route, and fast. (Donna POV)

This is not happening to me. I mean really, what are the chances? Madison is a fairly large town. There must be hundreds of grocery stores and thousands of places to pick up a gallon of milk. I am never in this town and I never shop for groceries when I do visit. Also, it's after 11 at night. The night before Thanksgiving, I might add. Who goes to the grocery store at 11:09pm? I mean, besides me and every other dolt who forgot to buy milk for the potatoes.

And now, clearly, him.

Hide. Maybe I can hide. If I just pass the woman with six boxes of stuffing and five kids and then duck into the next aisle over behind the rack of Doritos, maybe he won't…

"Donna?"

Too late for that idea.

"Eric…hi."

And with that, the last five years disappear and I am face to face with Dr. Freeride himself. Me, clutching a sweating gallon of one percent, wondering what to say next. Him, looking as shocked as he does terrified, running his one free hand through his hair.

I need an escape route, and fast.

I'm blaming this all on Josh.

I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for him. Well, actually I suppose I could shoulder part of the blame. I begged Josh to let me come home for Thanksgiving. Literally begged. I nearly brought him coffee. But he was the one who actually let me go. Therefore he deserves at least part of the blame. The reason for my sudden urge to travel? Well, I guess I could blame my cousin for that, although that isn't really fair either.

Suzanne had a baby girl last March, a baby girl I had yet to meet in person. Eight months of parental nagging can really wear on a person, and so it happened that I caught a Wednesday afternoon flight from D.C. to Madison. Josh would need to fend for himself for 48 hours.

Heaven help us all.

I spent a grand total of four hours sitting on a plane biting my nails and highlighting endless committee reports before finally arriving in Wisconsin. Following a landing more closely resembling a prolonged crash, I endured numerous inquiries into my health, my sleeping habits, my dating prospects, and my own plans for children before finally seizing an opportunity for escape.

I love my family. Really, I do. It's just that when I spend most of my life half of a continent away from them, the sudden influx of attention can be a little…overwhelming.

I needed a break.

We needed milk. Especially after I poured half a gallon down the drain.

I needed a break, we needed milk. It's a pretty simple equation. At least it should be. I just didn't count on this variable being added to the mix.

And that is how I came to be standing in the middle of aisle 4, still wearing the same clothes I had pulled on at 5:30 that morning. My hair had been yanked into a hasty ponytail while pacifying Josh via cell phone as I checked luggage and sprinted for the gate. Makeup? Long gone, I am sure. Death on a Triscuit? That would be me. I shift the milk from my right had to my left and attempt to recover the power of speech.

"Donna…What are you doing here? I thought you were… Weren't you a secretary…somewhere…Washington, right?"

You know, for a doctor, he isn't the most articulate person on the planet. Even so, I notice that his ability to insult me in the course of polite conversation certainly hasn't diminished. Then again, I'm still trying to figure out how to form words, so who I am to talk?

I need a comeback for this.

"Actually, I work with the Deputy Chief of Staff at the White House." There, speech seems to have returned. Much better. I can now focus on other things. Like locating any and all exits within a 20 foot radius.

"Ahh…right. Yeah. I think I heard that. Deputy Chief of Staff. That's…great."

Eric, I am sure, could not actually name the Deputy Chief of Staff, or the Chief of Staff, or possibly even the Vice President unless presented with multiple choice options. Even then, I'm not so sure.

"So, are you in town for Thanksgiving?" Just my luck, he seems to be in a talkative mood. That may have something to do with the terror on his face and the shaking in his hands. He always was one for nervous chatter and…is he checking me out? Must be the exhaustion. I begin to nod and attempt to formulate and excuse to bolt out the nearest door and/or skylight when my purse suddenly lets loose with a ring.

Phone. Phone! Thank God. I hold up one finger to Eric, shift the milk back to my right hand, and dig frantically through tampons, lipstick, a notebook, three pens, and my checkbook before producing the phone.

"Hello?"

"Donna, hey. Listen, I know I swore I wouldn't call you until at least tomorrow afternoon but I need your help on the thing for Haskell before Saturday. Toby wants us to…" Josh continues on, but I'm only half listening. Instead, I'm looking at my ex-boyfriend.

Eric "Dr. Freeride" Walker is standing in the middle of a discount drug store at quarter past eleven on Thanksgiving eve. His hair is shorter and slightly thinner than I remember, his stomach slightly thicker, and his eyes slightly older. I nod and mumble along to Josh's rant as I juggle my now-dripping milk and realize what Eric is holding.

A six-pack of Bud Light.

He stopped for a beer.

Good to see some things never change.

"…before CJ briefs the press. I need to know anything you can get from Watkins and then take the stats from the latest-"

"Josh? Could you hang on a sec?" I drop the phone to my side and turn my attention to Eric once again. He's looking at me with a mixture of curiosity, fear, and confusion I find somewhat amusing. It's an interesting expression on him.

I need a camera.

"Eric? I'm sorry. It's work and I need to take this. You see, we need to pass 197 on next Tuesday, and I need to get in touch with some congressional offices." I may be overstating a bit, but if ever there was a time to overstate…

"Uhh…right. Well, I'll see you around." I start to pick up my phone once again before noticing that Eric doesn't actually seem to be leaving. "Listen, I, uh, just wanted to say…If you want to get a drink or something while you're in town, maybe we could get together…"

No way. No way! This is unbelievable. I am being asked out by my ex-boyfriend. By this ex-boyfriend! I leave him five years ago following a disastrous reconciliation which followed a disastrous relationship and he has the nerve to ask me out in the middle of a grocery store? What is wrong with this picture? What is wrong with this man?

I need clarification.

"Are you asking me out?"

He starts to mumble and does a fantastic impersonation of a deer about to die. I'm having a difficult time deciphering exactly what it is he's saying, but I am fairly certain that he is indeed asking me out. I think of all the things I could do to him. I think of all the things I could throw at him. I could scream at the top of my lungs and remind him of all the times he came home late (if at all), all the dinners I cooked, all the tables I waited, all the opportunities I abandoned, when suddenly it comes to me.

The worst thing he could have done to me.

Also, the best thing he could ever have done for me.

"You stopped for a beer."

Nearly ten years after we first met and five years after I left him, he stood in the bright yellow light looking…confused.

I paid for my milk and headed toward the door. Eric stood rooted to the spot, eyes darting between the Bud Light in his hand and me, leaving his life. Again.

"You stopped for a beer."

The doors swept shut behind me.

That was the end.

It was also the beginning.

I was halfway to my car when I remembered I was still clutching my phone.

"Josh? You still there?

"Donna? What's going on? Are you in a bar or something? I was just saying that if Watkins doesn't turn around on this we're going to shove his objections up his ever widening-"

"Josh." There's something in my voice even I don't recognize. It stops him in his verbal tracks and I know I have his full attention.

"Yeah?"

"You wouldn't stop for a beer, right?"

I hear him sigh gently on the other end of the line.

"I wouldn't stop for anything."

Yes, Josh.

You are better than my old boyfriend.