Part Three

Sam watched carefully as Donna lowered her eyes and looked to the side, a slight smile of disbelief on her lips.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It sounded like you said I've been dead for two years."

"Donna." Sam reached out and placed a finger on her chin, tilting her head and aligning her gaze back to him. "Donna, are you okay?" When C.J. had called him out of the blue and then proceeded to tell him who had contacted her, he hadn't believed that it was possible. He hadn't considered that it might be just as hard on Donna.

"No," she said, shaking her head, as Sam's hand drifted from her chin to rest on her shoulder. "That's not possible." Her eyes had grown wide and frantic, the realization that he wasn't joking finally sinking in. "That isn't true."

Sam could see that she was quickly beginning to lose control and grabbed hold of her shoulders, steadying her. "Donna, you have to calm down." He shook her, slightly, and her head jerked up, her eyes meeting his. "You need to stay in control here."

Donna nodded and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Tell me what happened."

"I only know what I've been told," Sam began. "Remember, I wasn't there at the time. C.J. told me about how you two left the White House together and that you were upset with Josh."

"He went home with Amy," Donna supplied through thin lips.

"Right, so C.J. drove you home. I don't know what happened in your apartment, but after she dropped you off, she called Josh and told him about how upset you were."

Donna's head snapped up. "She didn't!"

"She did."

Donna covered her eyes with her hand. "Oh, God, what did he do?"

"He jumped in his car and headed over to your apartment. You see, he hadn't gone anywhere with Amy. He was home when C.J. called him -- alone. He tried to call you, but you didn't answer, so he drove over to talk to you." Sam stood and started to pace, knowing that the not-so-easy part of the tale was coming.

"I remember the phone ringing," she whispered, following him with her eyes. "That must have been him calling."

Sam paused and scrubbed his face with his hands. "This is the hard part. Are you sure you want to hear this?" He didn't know why he'd bothered to ask. Of course Donna would want to know. She was . . . well . . . she was Donna. At least, he hoped she was still Donna on the inside even though her outward appearance had been altered.

"Yes." Her resolve almost made Sam want to cry with relief -- she hadn't changed a bit. She sat up straight and pressed her hands into her knees, as if to brace herself against the unwelcome news.

"Josh made it to your street and had just stepped out of his car when your apartment, well, the whole building exploded." He said it in a rush, as if letting the sentence spill from his lips would make the news any easier to hear.

Donna's face turned white. "What?"

"The fire department called it a gas explosion. They said that there must have been some sort of leak in your apartment."

"Josh?" It was more of a squeak than a word or a question.

Sam nodded, knowing what she meant. "Saw the whole thing. The force of the explosion knocked him down, and he passed out. He's been beating himself up for that ever since."

Donna shook her head, vehemently defending Josh. "It's not his fault."

"Well, you can tell him that, now. Maybe he'll believe *you*." Sam relaxed a little when Donna allowed herself a smile, and he knew she was counting the seconds until she could do just that.

Her smile faded, though, and she sighed, her brow knit in concern. "I tried calling him, but his number wasn't working."

"There's more. C.J. wanted me to make sure you knew most of what's happened while you've been gone, but it's probably not going to be easy to hear."

"I can't imagine it being worse than being told I've been dead for two years," she quipped.

Sam shook his head and resumed pacing. "There wasn't much left of your building, and your remains were, well, char-broiled to put it mildly. The only way they could identify you was through dental records." He paused and covered his mouth with his hand. "How that got botched is a question for another day," he said to himself, filing it away for later scrutiny. "Anyway, Josh insisted on seeing your remains. I don't know if he thought that somehow he could make it not so -- you know, that maybe it wasn't you. Which it wasn't, so, go figure."

"That must have been awful for him," she said, her voice quavering. She climbed off the edge of the bed and started pacing in concert with Sam, something for which, he noted, she hadn't lost the knack.

"I'm sure it was," he continued. "But he wouldn't let any of us know that. You know how he is."

"Yeah."

Sam knew that Donna was one of the very few people who could ever get Josh to open up. He hoped she wasn't going to pull a 'Josh' of her own and start blaming herself for what he still had to tell her.

"So, you were cremated. Josh took time off from work and flew with your remains to Hawaii where he scattered your ashes in the ocean. He insisted that was what you would have wanted. After that, he quit."

"Quit?" Donna stopped cold in the middle of the floor.

"Quit," Sam repeated, nearly running in to her. "He was dormant, politically, for a while until Amy convinced him to run for a Senate seat in Connecticut. He won, and they married. That was almost a year ago."

Donna was silent for a moment, then smiled, shaking her head slightly. "He married Amy?"

Sam sighed. "Somehow I knew that would stick out more than the fact that Josh is a Senator."

"Amy." Donna looked up at the ceiling, the smile fading quickly, and crossed her arms across her stomach.

"I can't imagine why I would have thought that."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Sam jumped out of the way as Donna bolted for the bathroom.

* o *

Donna leaned over the commode until her stomach calmed. It wasn't Amy, she kept telling herself. Rather it was the stress of *all* the news she had to absorb that had caused her stomach to react so violently. She didn't care if Josh had thrown his life away by marrying that witch.

She groaned and pressed her forehead against the cool porcelain when Sam politely knocked on the bathroom door.

"Are you okay in there?"

"Yeah," she acknowledged, using the counter as leverage to pull herself to her feet. She stared, once again, at the reflection in the mirror and fleetingly wondered how long it would take for her to get used to looking like a different person.

"Do you want me to go get you a soda or something?" Sam asked through the door.

"A soda would be nice," she replied. "The room key is on the night stand. I'll be right out. I need to freshen up." Donna heard Sam leave and then turned on the faucet. She reached for a washcloth, running it under the cool tap water, then wrung it out and gently wiped her face. She then pooled some water in her hands and brought it to her lips, rinsing the bile taste out of her mouth.

"Can someone please stop this crazy ride?" she asked her reflection. "I really want to get off." Satisfied that she looked slightly better than death warmed over, she opened the bathroom door and sat down in the small armchair next to the bed.

Sam walked in a few moments later, carrying a can of soda for each of them. He popped open the tab on hers and handed it over.

"I'm sorry," he said as she took a sip. "I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell you all of this."

Donna smiled. "I'm glad it is you, Sam," she sighed. "Really." She took another sip and felt her stomach begin to settle. "So, now what?"

Sam immediately shifted into business mode. "We need to get you back to D.C., but you can't fly commercial. You don't have any identification, being as you're dead and all, so I'll charter a flight. I'll go with you, and we'll get you all settled."

Donna nodded and followed Sam with her eyes as he walked the room and ticked off all the things that would be happening as soon as she got home.

Home. "What about my family?" Donna asked. "They think I'm dead."

Sam paused and considered her question before offering a suggestion. "Donna, the entire world, short of me, C.J. and Toby think you're dead. Until we find out why you're not -- not that I'm complaining -- it might be best to keep it that way."

Donna sighed and rubbed her temples against the persistent nagging of a headache. "I understand," she said, although she really didn't. The thought of her parents having to deal with her death -- such as it was -- broke her heart. The more she thought about it, though, she figured Sam was right. It would be better to have more answers than questions when she returned to the world of the living, especially where her parents were concerned.

"You're going to need a place to stay," Sam continued, resuming his circuit of the room. "I have plenty of room at my place, if you want, and with the hours I keep, I won't be there half the time."

Forcing a grin, Donna leaned forward and caught Sam's attention. "Samuel, are you asking me to move in with you? I'm flattered."

Sam cleared his throat. "It's just until you get things settled and can get a place of your own," he clarified, practically falling over himself to do so.

"Relax, Sam," she chuckled, feeling slightly better about her situation than she had since the moment she had regained consciousness in the alley. "It's just a weak attempt to bring the funny in an otherwise unfunny situation. I could always ask C.J. if I could stay with her, you know."

"I don't think Toby would appreciate that," Sam offhandedly replied.

"Toby?" Donna asked, wondering why Toby would care if C.J. had a houseguest.

"Yeah, Toby," Sam repeated, waving a hand in the air as if to dismiss anything that might cause him to lose his train of thought. "Look, I need to make some phone calls. Why don't you order some breakfast, and I'll get everything situated to get you home."

Donna nodded and reached for the room service menu while Sam flipped open his cell phone. Josh was a Senator. He had married Amy. Yet, against all odds, the world continued to spin. She shook her head and sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. Getting her life back, figuring out where she'd been for so long -- that would be simple in comparison.

Tbc . . .