Rating: PG
Pairing: Toby/Donna
Spoilers: 17 People; general season three.
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo (helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: She found herself turning around, so that she could at least see who was sending her over a drink.
Author's Note: Let's all sing it together gang - who do we blame for this? If you said Sunny, go to the top of the class and get a gold star! This is a response to the July Challenge on the Toby list, the anniversaries challenge. Any anniversary, it doesn't matter what. I was trying to do something else, but look what happened!

She sat at the bar, listlessly swirling what little alcohol remained in the bottom of her glass. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to come in here on her way home from work, have one drink, just one, in the hopes that the whiskey would wash away the sour taste that had been in her mouth for most of the day. This was a quiet bar; there would be no-one that she knew from work here, no reporters looking for a quick quote, no congressional aides trying to elicit information from her. She could just sit by herself, and not have to worry about explaining herself to anyone.

Like she said, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Except for the little fact that she hated being alone in a place like this, where the eyes of every lone gentleman - although such a word was undoubtedly stretching credulity- seemed to be fixed on her, where even the barman was eyeing her up with an air of unvarnished interest. Even worse was the fact that most of the other patrons of the bar were in groups of twos and threes or more, laughing, talking, joking together. It just served to underline that fact that she was alone.

She hated being alone.

Especially today, of all days.

She'd just about decided that she'd had enough of sitting there, and was going to finish up her drink and go home when the barman placed another in front of her. She blinked in surprise, startled out of her dark thoughts. "Oh, I didn't-"

"Courtesy of the gentleman in the corner booth," she was told, and she frowned in irritation. The last thing she wanted to do was to appear rude, or ungrateful. Actually, that was the second last thing she wanted to do. The last thing she wanted to do was pick up some gomer in a bar, or even have to make conversation with a stranger.

But the barman was pointing in the general direction, and almost without meaning to, she found herself turning around, so that she could at least see who was sending her over a drink. She couldn't stop her eyes from widening with surprise when she saw who was sitting there, and he must have noticed it, because she could see his lips turn up in a smile, could almost see his dark eyes twinkling, even from that distance. He raised his glass to her in what was unmistakably both a salute and an invitation.

To her own surprise, she took it, sliding off the stool, grabbing her purse and coat in one hand, the whiskey sour in the other and walking over to join him. "Thanks for the drink," was the first thing she said to him, Mother's lessons in good manners rearing their head as she slid into the booth, the faded and cracked leather moving to support her.

"You're welcome." He smiled at her again before vanishing momentarily in a cloud of cigar smoke, and when the smoke cleared, he was his usual taciturn self again. She found herself wondering if she'd imagined those smiles, but looking across into his eyes, she found a lightness there that made her dismiss the thought. "I didn't expect to see you here."

There was a questioning lilt to his tone, and she shrugged, looking up and around nervously. "One of those days," was her only explanation, and he nodded, taking another pull from his cigar.

"Aren't they all?"

There was nothing much that she could say to that, so she settled for a sip of her drink instead. "Do you do this often?" she asked, when the silence threatened to become oppressive.

"Drink after work?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Or buy drinks for women after work?"

His candour unsettled her, and she shrugged again. "Either. Both." She gave him an uncertain smile. "I don't know."

He lifted his head slowly, then dipped it again, one long slow nod. "In answer to the first one, only occasionally. Although more often I wait until I get home. To the second? Never."

She smiled a real smile then, tinged by surprise to be sure, but her first real smile of the day nonetheless. "And what did I do to deserve that?"

"I hate to see a lady drinking alone." She would have paid good money to see his face when he said that, because his voice was neutral, no inflection whatsoever. But the cigar smoke once more proved a good cover for him. When the smoke cleared, he took a sip of his drink, not looking at her. "I take it Josh was being especially demanding today?"

At the mention of her boss, she felt her mood, which had lightened considerably since she sat down here, began to darken again. "In a manner of speaking." She was hard pressed to stop herself wincing at the bitterness in her voice, but once again, his expression didn't change, and she wondered why she wasn't more surprised by that.

"What did he do?"

She sipped her drink, squirming uncomfortably. "It doesn't matter."

Both brows were lifted quickly. "If it's bringing you to a place like this after work, I'd say it matters."

She sighed. "You'll laugh."

"No I won't."

It was the standard response to that question, but looking at him over that table, she believed him. Which is why she took a deep breath before starting her story. "It's silly. But it's April."

He blinked, then repeated the manoeuvre. "And?" he prompted, lifting his hands in mid-air in question. In normal circumstances, that would have had her scrambling for an answer. But here like this, she just shook her head and continued.

"Every April, since I began to work for him, Josh has sent me flowers." She waited for him to say something, anything in acknowledgement, but he just sat listening, waiting for her to continue. "It's been quite a bone of contention for us, because I always insist that I started working for him in February, not April. He prefers to remember that I left him in the middle and so insists that it was April when I began working for him, because that was the time that I didn't leave him and come back later."

He frowned slightly. "I thought you would have enjoyed getting flowers from Josh."

He meant the question, she could see that from the look on his face, and she remembered that he hadn't been privy to the conversation in the Roosevelt Room last year. "My reasons for leaving the campaign had to do with an old boyfriend. He wasn't the Prince Charming I thought that he was, but it took going back to him to make me realise that. Long story short, I don't like remembering that he nearly fooled me again. I'd rather forget that anniversary."

"And Josh being Josh-" he was nodding now, having worked out, he thought, what the problem was. "He sent you flowers again today."

"No." The word had his glass freezing halfway to his lips. "He didn't."

"I don't understand."

She sighed, taking another sip of her drink, wondering idly if she could chance another one and still be all right to drive. "He was busy with Amy." At the mention of the other woman's name, the bitter taste in her mouth returned, and it was nothing to do with the one and a half whiskey sours she'd just consumed. "And I know it sounds silly, and I know that it sounds like I'm jealous-"

"Aren't you?" He interrupted her quietly, and this time, there was no cigar smoke to cloud his face as he rested his head on his hands and met her gaze.

She didn't have to ponder the question long. "No. No, I'm not jealous." Her voice was low, and she didn't miss that he leaned closer to her over the table. "I know that half of the West Wing thinks that I have a thing for Josh-"

"Half of Washington," he interjected, but his eyes were dancing again, and she couldn't help but smile.

"And at one time, I might have. I mean, he hired me when he had no reason to know who I was, or if I could do the job…the Prince Charming tag's a turn-on, I'll admit to that." She raised her glass to her lips, pausing for thought. "But working with him day in, day out…not so much."

The words had the ring of truth to them, she knew that, but just how much truth, she hadn't realised until she heard them spoken aloud. Once upon a time, she had had a thing for Josh, but somewhere over the last year, between Cliff and Amy and a thousand other little things, she'd got over it. She didn't feel that way about him any more, and she was fine with that.

That didn't mean that she was fine with the distance that had sprung up between them. There had once been a time when they were absolutely in tune with one another, where she only had to look at him to know what he was thinking. Not so now. And the thing with the flowers, that was one of their things. A tradition with them, complete with snarking and bantering and threats of violence. That was part of the deal, but both of them had always known that those flowers went home with her, kept in pride of place in her living room every year.

"I'm not jealous of Amy," she repeated now. "But the flowers…"

"You think that you're not as important to Josh any more, now that he has Amy."

"Amy has nothing to do with it. I guess I'm just afraid that I'm not important to Josh any more."

"You're important to Josh. He couldn't get by without you."

"I know that." Modesty be damned, she did know it, and he wouldn't throw it up in her face at a later date, because he wasn't the type to do that. "It's just… I missed the flowers." She smiled at him then, a little bit wistful, a little bit embarrassed, then frowned slightly, looking at him curiously. "What brings you here?"

He sighed, taking a sip of his own drink. "Another anniversary," he finally said.

She frowned. "Anniversary?"

"Yeah." Another sip of his drink. "One year ago today, I found out that the President has Multiple Sclerosis."

Her eyes widened. "Oh."

"Yeah." He gave her a quick grin before looking down at his glass again. "Yeah. And I couldn't help but think over everything that's happened in the last year, the announcement, the hearings, everything… and I wonder, if I'd kept my mouth shut, if I hadn't looked into things, if I hadn't blown up at him in the Oval Office… would all this have happened?"

"You can't think like that." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, amazed that this man, this man who had a reputation for keeping the world out with his prickly exterior, would actually take something like this so much to heart.

"Yeah well…" He grinned again, fleetingly, sheepishly, taking another sip. "I do."

She leaned back in the booth, sighing. "Do you think we're going to make it through this Toby?"

She hated how weak her voice sounded, like a child looking for reassurance. She didn't know if she would find it here, with this man, but she knew that she would get nothing but the truth from him. He tilted his head at her question, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know Donna," he told her quietly. "I really don't know." He finished his cigar, and with it, the remains of his drink. Holding up the empty glass to her, he raised an eyebrow. "You want another?"

She considered it, then she shook her head. "I think I'll head home." A smile came to her face. "I have a pint of double chocolate fudge ice cream in the freezer. At least that way, I won't have a headache in the morning."

He grimaced. "And I have an early meeting, for which I should be clear-headed and lucid."

They both stood up, and she only just managed to keep back a sound of surprise when he took her coat from her hands, holding it out for her. If he noticed it as he smoothed down the shoulders, gently pulled her hair out from under the collar, then he didn't say anything, nor did he say anything when she turned to him with a shy smile. "Thanks."

There was a quick grin before he placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the exit. "Are you ok to get home?" he asked once they were outside. "You want me to call you a cab?"

"I drove." She pointed over her shoulder in the direction of her car.

"And you're ok to drive?"

"I only had two drinks, I'll be fine." She shoved both her hands into her pockets, taking a step backwards. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow." To her amazement, he fell into step beside her. "What are you doing?"

He slowed his walk, eyeing her curiously. "I'm walking you to your car." He said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You are?"

He chuckled at that, and his voice when he spoke was a mixture of amusement and sarcasm. "Yes. Because I'm really going to let an attractive young lady walk alone to her car at this hour of the night."

A blush rose to her cheeks at his choice of words and she ducked her head, flattered, not stopping. He kept pace with her, and they walked in silence until they got to her car, when she turned to him with a smile. "Well, here I am, safe and sound. You want to check the car for strangers in the back seat?"

She'd been making a joke, but it was as if he hadn't heard her at all. His attention was fixed on something over her shoulder, and she frowned, reaching out to touch his elbow lightly. "Toby?"

He blinked, the touch seeming to bring him back to reality, reminding where he was and who he was with. "Yeah." Then he blinked again, looking into her eyes. "Stay there a sec, will you?" He was moving off, and she was beginning to ask him what he was doing when he stopped, just at her shoulder, and said three more words. "Don't turn around."

If it had been anyone else, she probably would have ignored it, but not him. So she stayed where she was, looking down the street in the direction they'd come, wondering what in the world had got into him.

She only had to wait a minute for her answer, and when it came, she felt her breath catch in her chest, a lump rising in her throat.

"Here," he said, somewhat awkwardly, handing her a single yellow rose. She stared at him, eyes wide, and a smile was just beginning to show on her face when he started stumbling through an explanation. "There's a guy down the street selling…and I saw him, and I remembered what you said…" He paused, probably when he saw her lifting the bloom to her nose. She smiled fully as the scent hit her, looking up at him, into his eyes, and he stopped talking then, shrugging his shoulders. "You should have flowers Donna. You should have flowers."

She looked down quickly, swallowing the lump in her throat, and forcing words up instead. "Thank you," she said again, on impulse, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. The bristles of his beard rubbed against her skin, a sensation that felt strange, but not unpleasant.

"Yeah…well…" He was smiling too then, and he gave another shrug. They stood like that a moment before he shook himself, taking a step away from her. "I should…"

"And me too…"

"I'll see you tomorrow." He was already moving down the street, but backwards, in small steps, watching her all the while.

"Yeah. Tomorrow." She was fumbling with the lock of her car door when his voice made her look up.

"Donna?"

"Yeah?"

There was still that small smile playing around the edges of his lips. "We're going to be fine you know."

Another wide smile spread across her face. "I know," she said before she got into her car and drove home. Because when she heard it from him, she believed it.

She didn't feel alone any more either.