He needs to call Mrs. Bartlet. After Rosslyn, she had told him that the White House Switchboard had been instructed to put all of Josh's calls through to the First Lady's office immediately. Not once had he ever felt the need to call with any medical questions or emergencies, but now that Donna was sick, he's calling. No question about it.

"Good afternoon, White House Switchboard."

"Hi this is Josh Lyman. Can you put me through to the First Lady's Office, please?"

"One moment Mr. Lyman …"

"Joshua, how's our patient?" Abbey Bartlet's voice comes through the phone about fifteen seconds later.

"Hi Mrs. B. Not good. Not good at all. She's . . ." His voice trails off, he doesn't even know where to begin. He stops pacing for a moment to run his hand roughly over his face and through his hair.

"Take a deep breath Josh." Her voice is stern yet calm. He does as she asks, and his anxiety is slightly reduced.

"Now I suspect that your concern isn't just about the flu and I understand how hard it is to watch someone you care about struggle. But Josh? We need her to feel better before we can address the bigger issue, okay?"

"Yes Ma'am." And Josh knows she's right. The immediate concern is Donna's fever.

"She needs lots of rest and plenty of fluids." Abbey reminds him.

"She's asleep in her bed and Sam is getting everything she needs."

"That's a good start. Can you get her temperature? Just put a thermometer in her armpit. You can get an oral reading once she wakes up."

"Okay, just a minute Mrs. B." He's already hustling down the hall to her bathroom, where he knows the thermometer is sitting in the first aid kit in the bottom drawer.

Her t-shirt is big enough for the thermometer to slide into her sleeve. He's impatient during the temperature reading, tapping his foot persistently on the hardwood and willing the final number to appear. At the sound of three beeps, he carefully withdraws the plastic and looks at the number.

"102.8, and that's after an ice pack!" The words barely escape him and he's finding it difficult to swallow as he again feels his panic begin to creep back up.

"Yeah, okay that's higher than I would have thought, given the medication she had before she left here. It is concerning, but let's not panic yet. If she goes over 103, then I want you to call me immediately, but for now, keep giving her medicine every four to six hours, apply the cold compresses, and check her temp every few hours."

"Yeah. Thanks Ma'am." He's still struggling to get his words out and hates that there isn't anything else he can do.

"Anytime. And Josh?"

"Mmm?"

"She's going to be okay. It's just the flu."

Josh almost blurts out that it's not just the flu, but this isn't the time to deal with everything. Right now he needs to focus on her fever, and figure out what's next. He thanks the First Lady again before ending the call.

Just then he hears Donna moaning from the bedroom. He grabs one of his homemade ice packs, well really just a frozen washcloth, and quickly heads back in there. She's tossing and turning and muttering under her breath. "Not good enough. . . . Not professional.. . . . Not . . ."

Her words prick his conscience and his heart sinks to hear her talk like that. There's definitely more going on here than just the flu, and he fully intends to get to the bottom of it.

He places the washcloth to her forehead, it must be comforting, because her fevered words fall away as she goes back to a peaceful sleep. He's not sure how much time passes, but at some point, Josh hears a quiet knock. He leaves the damp washcloth against Donna's neck and quickly heads back to the front door and looks through the spy hole to see Sam holding a few bags.

"Thanks man."

"Anytime. Is she okay?" Josh hears the concern in Sam's voice. He knows Donna never misses work.

"She's pretty sick with the flu, but she's gonna be okay. I talked to Mrs. Bartlet and she gave me some instructions." He's reassuring Sam just as much as he's reassuring himself.

"Well Donna's in good hands then. If you need anything, I'm just a phone call away buddy."

"Thanks." Josh smiles at his best friend and Sam returns the gesture as he clasps his hand to Josh's shoulder, giving it a subtle shake.

Josh locks the door after Sam leaves and makes his way to the kitchen with the groceries. Just the simple act of filling Donna's fridge makes him feel better. He's made it his personal mission to make sure that it's never empty again . . . that she never feels this way again.

The last thing he needs to do is call Leo, because there is no way he's going into work tomorrow. He's right where he needs to be.

….

He's been sitting in the small, fabric covered chair in Donna's room long enough for the sun to set. He's been vigilant about the homemade ice packs. At one point, she had woken up and looked at him, but he could see in her eyes that she was confused. She had called out his name, but with her fever, he was pretty confident that she wasn't aware of what was going on and wouldn't remember the moment. He had been able to get her to take a few sips of ginger ale and to give her the liquid fever reducer that Sam had brought. After she had fallen back asleep, Josh took her temperature and it had gone down to 101.7. It was still high, but certainly trending in the right direction.

The ache in his back from sitting in the small chair finally becomes painful enough for Josh to stand up, but he forgets all about his pain though, when he takes Donna's temperature again and sees how well the medication is working. Donna's fever had fallen to 101.3, relieving him of some of the anxiety coursing through his body.

With the medication working, he feels comfortable getting a little rest. She's sleeping soundly and the ice cubes in her cup have long since melted, so he makes a quick trip to the kitchen for a new glass of ginger ale, saltines, and another ice pack. He places the items on Donna's nightstand and takes a few minutes to rub the ice pack across her brow. He hopes it will break her fever.

Josh's wrinkled suit is uncomfortable and he's ready to get out of it, so he quietly makes his way across her room to the closet and pulls the small chain connected to the light bulb. Even though he hasn't spent a lot of time at Donna's place in several months, he knows she keeps clean clothes here for him. The gesture makes him smile. He reaches for his navy blue sweatpants on the top shelf, but knocks them to the ground in the process. Grabbing his gray t-shirt, Josh bends down to pick up his sweats, but freezes when his eyes land on an open box. Folded neatly, he recognizes his old Yale Law and Harvard t-shirts. He had given them to Donna on two separate occasions. The Yale shirt on the campaign trail when she had been dumped on by rain and had nothing to wear, and the Harvard shirt during their first year in office when they had worked late at his place and she spent the night on his couch. His heart drops seeing his t-shirts packed away in a box, but he swears he can feel his heart break when his eyes fall on the book spine nestled on the side of the box: The Art and Artistry of Alpine Skiing.

And it's at that exact moment he figures it out. He doesn't know what he did, but he's damn sure that he's the one who hurt her.