Josh checked his watch for the tenth time in ten minutes as he paced back and forth in the airport lobby. Donna's mom wasn't due to arrive for another half hour, but the emotional roller coaster Josh had been riding for the past few hours had left him with an abundance of nervous energy.
Josh had let the hospital staff know how to reach him if Donna's condition changed. So far nobody had called, so that must mean she hadn't woken up yet. Collin was still maintaining a bedside vigil, but Josh hoped he would be back in time to prevent that from being the first thing Donna saw when she opened her eyes. She'd already suffered enough.
The background music cut out as an announcement in garbled German blared through the airport speaker system and Josh looked up to see the next wave of people flooding through the terminal exit into the lobby as the music resumed. Still no Mrs. Moss.
Josh checked his watch again.
His phone lit up and vibrated with an incoming call. He was surprised to see the name and number for Stanley Keyworth scroll across the screen. Why would ATVA be calling him?
"Hello?"
"Josh. This is Stanley Keyworth with the American Trauma Victims Association," said a deep calming voice on the other end of the line.
"Hey Stanley. What can I do for you?" Josh asked.
"I got a call from Leo this afternoon—" Stanley began.
"Right!" Josh realized. "The bombing in Gaza. You probably need the names and numbers for the families of the congressional delegates that were injured. You'll have to contact Margaret because I'm—"
"Actually, that's not why I'm calling, Josh," Stanley cut him off. "Leo told me what happened. With Donna. How are you doing?"
"I'm good," Josh answered automatically.
"Okay," said the slightly amused voice on the phone. "Let's try this again. Leo said you had an episode in his office earlier this week when you found out that Donna had been involved in the car bombing in Gaza and that you went straight from the White House to the airport where you flew to Germany to be with her."
"Yeah," Josh admitted. "But—"
"And you've been living at the hospital for the past two days while Donna's been in and out of surgery," the doctor verified.
"Yeah," Josh admitted again. "But—"
"And Leo said there were some complications with her operation?"
Josh hesitated.
"They . . . uh . . . they had to operate to remove a pulmonary embolism," Josh stammered. "And she lost a lot of blood. They won't know if there is brain damage until she wakes up."
Josh pressed his finger and thumb into his eyes and ran a hand over his receding hair. He was so tired of thinking about this.
"So how are you doing?" Stanley asked again.
"Well, she has a compound fracture in her leg and a punctured lung and she's pretty beat up, but we won't know the full extent until they do an MRI—"
"—And I hope Donna is going to be okay, but I'm actually more interested in you." Stanley broke in, again.
Josh paused. Where to begin?
"I haven't put my hand through any windows, if that's what your asking," Josh answered.
"It's not," the doctor chuckled humorlessly. "But that's good to hear. Tell me about the hospital?"
"Pretty nurses, sick people, flimsy gowns that don't stay closed in back," Josh said. "We've got something similar in America if you're interested."
"And lots of blood?" Stanley asked, brushing past Josh's poor attempt at humor.
"Yeah," Josh answered, feeling the floor of his stomach drop out.
"And sirens?" The doctor asked, although he obviously already knew the answer.
"Yeah," Josh answered expressionlessly.
"Josh, I'm the guy you tell. Remember?" Stanley said firmly.
"I'm . . ." Josh searched for the right words. "I'm struggling."
"I'd be worried if you weren't," the doctor responded.
"I feel like this was my fault," Josh continued. "I sent her on that trip. I told her it would be safe. And if she has brain damage, or if she doesn't even wake up . . ."
"Josh, nobody could have predicted that the delegation would be attacked. We both know that what happened to Donna wasn't your fault. What you are experiencing is called 'survivor's guilt'." Stanley explained. "Most of the time we associate survivor's guilt with people who have survived an event that resulted in the death of other people. But in your case you feel guilty because you think it should have been you, and not Donna, in that SUV."
"She wanted more responsibility," Josh said. "I was trying to do something nice."
"Nobody is suggesting otherwise," Stanley reassured him.
"And I can't stop thinking about my dad." Josh admitted.
"Your dad?"
"Yeah." Josh said.
"What about your dad?" Stanley coaxed.
"I don't know." Josh answered too quickly, immediately regretting mentioning it. "Forget it. I don't know why I said that."
"No, tell me about your dad. Have you heard from him recently?" Stanley asked.
"No. . . uh. . . He died six years ago. On the night of the Illinois Primary before President Bartlett's first term." Josh explained, feeling slightly ashamed for some reason.
"I'm sorry, Josh," And Stanley sounded genuinely sorry. "How did he die?"
"Cancer. Uh, I mean he was undergoing chemo and there were complications during surgery," Josh answered quietly, feeling the queasiness in his midsection stir. He wished the music playing through the loud speakers would stop.
"A pulmonary embolism?" Stanley guessed.
"Yeah."
"And now your afraid that the same thing that happened to your dad is going to happen to Donna." Stanley stated.
"I don't know," Josh muttered, checking his watch again. "No. I mean, obviously it's a totally different situation. The two are unrelated, but—"
"But they're related in your mind," Stanley said.
"Yeah," Josh said. "I guess."
"Josh, do you want to know what I think?" Stanley asked finally.
"I wouldn't have called if I didn't," Josh answered sarcastically. He knew from past experience that Dr Keyworth was capable and professional, but the way the man seemed to be able to know what he was feeling better than Josh himself did . . . it was unnerving. Invasive.
"You're in an unfamiliar environment away from the people you usually rely on as a support system. You're jet lagged. You haven't eaten a full meal or slept in a bed in over 48 hours. And you're terrified of losing Donna—with whom you already have a complicated relationship," Stanley explained. "And on top of all that, the sounds and smells of the hospital are triggering your PTSD. No matter how hard you try to ignore it, you can't make it stop."
"We don't have a complicated relationship. She works for me," Josh corrected.
"Okay," the doctor said in that same tone of amusement, before turning more serious. "Then let me just say this: if you try to keep going the way you're going now, it's only a matter of time before you break another window. And if it gets to that point, it won't matter what happens to Donna because you'll have already lost her."
Josh was quiet for a minute, processing what the doctor had just said. Did he mean . . .?
"Josh?"
"Yeah," Josh snapped out of his thoughts.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you? You need to take care of yourself. You need to talk to someone." Stanley said.
"You sound like Leo," Josh said.
"Well, the man occasionally knows what he's talking about," Stanley replied, and Josh could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Uh, look, Stanley. I've actually got to go. I'm at the airport to pick up Donna's mom. She flew in on the Red Eye. But I really do appreciate you calling." Josh said, spotting the next wave of travelers making their way out of the terminal.
"Anytime," Stanley said. "And you have my number if you need to talk. Don't hesitate to call. That's what I'm here for."
Josh thanked the doctor and hung up. He was surprised to realize he was feeling marginally better despite the fact that nothing tangible had actually changed.
A/N: Thanks for all the support and encouragement in your reviews. It makes it more fun to write when I get to hear feedback from the readers. This chapter was tricky, since I haven't ever tried to write Stanley Keyworth's voice before now, but I feel like it turned out pretty good. If nothing else, it was a fun conversation to imagine taking place. Next up, I get to figure out how to write Donna's mom . . .