AUTHOR'S NOTE: Believe it or not, I just saw 'NSF Thurmont' for the first time (yeah – I'm about 5 episodes behind the curve)… anyway, the expression on Josh's face when Donna wakes up at the end of the episode is remarkable… expect those kinds of emotions to appear soon… as soon as I can find the right words to do Bradley Whitford's acting justice.

In the meantime, the story continues…

PHOTOGRAPHS (4)

Josh stood outside of Donna's apartment, scuffing the toe of his loafers on the sidewalk while he debated going up the stairs to see her. He thought over his conversation… well, argument… with C.J. and looked up at the window of Donna's living room.

She wanted something new, he thought, and C.J. told her to leave me. And after that, she nearly died. God. What has happened to us?

He contemplated getting in his car and going home to drown himself in a bottle of Jack Daniels he had hidden in the back of one of his kitchen cabinets. He didn't even like bourbon, but a voice in the back of his head was telling him this was a good a time as any to learn to appreciate it. What better time than now – after finding out she was ready to leave him for yet another bastard who used her for his own purposes and left her by the wayside? Dr. Freeride Part Two … with deadlier consequences.

But Josh knew that he couldn't go home. Not only did he need to see her and make sure she was coping with having seen the photographs, but he also needed to find out if what C.J. said had been true – if Donna really had thought of leaving him. If she had run to Gaza and into someone else's arms because she could no longer stay with him.

He steeled himself, opened the door to the apartment building, and walked up the steps.

There was no answer to his knock. He wondered if she had seen him standing outside by his car and was simply refusing to answer the door. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keyring and found the key to her apartment – he hadn't used it since she had first come home from Germany, when he would come by several times a day to make sure she was taking care of herself.

When he opened the door, he called her name softly, not wanting to startle her, "Donna?"

"Donna, it's Josh…"

Getting no response, he moved further into the apartment, glancing into the kitchen and then the living room. As he turned, he saw her laying on the couch, fast asleep, with her leg outstretched and piled on pillows, a bag of ice on her thigh right above the long scar that marked where they had to rebuild her femur.

Walking over to her, he flashed back to seeing her in the hospital bed in Germany, face covered in scars, tubes and machines hooked up to all parts of her body. He had never been so scared in his life. Sure, he had been shot and near death himself, but he didn't remember most of those moments. And what he remembered didn't hold a candle to the doctor telling him Donna might have suffered brain damage and might be permanently disabled for life. At that very moment, he had known pure terror and knew that he never wanted to feel that way again.

Josh reached down and pushed a straying lock of hair from her cheek, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the pain lines on her forehead. Today's therapy must have been hard, he thought, she must be hurting.

Pulling up the afghan she had wrapped around her and gathering up the bag of ice, Josh went into the kitchen. He put the ice in the sink and picked up the phone to order dinner, knowing Donna hadn't eaten anything all day and would probably sleep through until the morning without eating if he didn't wake her. Finishing the call, he wandered back out to the living room, moving quietly, and settled himself in a chair across from the sofa. As he looked around the room, he noticed a framed picture of the two of them, taken at one of the balls held during the last Inaugural.

Rising slowly and moving across the room, he picked it up and studied it carefully. Donna was laughing at something outside of the frame, her eyes sparkling and flashing, her head turned away from him. He was standing at her side and looking down at her in a way that could only be described as infatuated. Josh was amazed at the expression on his own face. God. She is so beautiful. And I had no idea I looked at her like that, he thought.

Behind him, Donna stirred on the sofa. Putting down the picture, he walked over and kneeled on the floor next to her, brushing that same errant hair away from her face.

"Hey, Sleepyhead."

"Josh…"

"Yeah. I came over to see how therapy went this afternoon. I guess not so good."

Donna pulled herself into sitting position on the sofa, wincing as she moved her leg, and rubbing the sleep out her eyes.

"Ummm… it wasn't too bad. I was just a little tired when I got home, though."

Josh knew she was trying to be brave. He couldn't quite figure out why – after all, he had seen her at her worst, just as she had seen him after the shooting – and he wanted desperately to let her know that she didn't have to pretend for him. At the same time, he didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable, so he pretended he believed her.

"Ok. Well, I ordered food. Chinese. I know you didn't eat lunch or dinner and you must keep up your strength so you can serve your lord and master."

"Oh really?" she smiled, looking at him with a cocked brow and mock disbelief, "And who might that be?"

"Why, me, of course! I'm da man!" he laughed, happy to see the shadows leave her eyes even if it was just for a moment.

"Joshua…" she sighed, standing up from the sofa. At that moment, her leg gave out on her and she started to fall. Josh caught her and sat her back down on the sofa gently.

"Donna – where are your crutches?"

"I don't need my crutches, Josh. I just…"

"Donna," he chastised, looking her in the eye, "You almost fell on your ass. I don't know what you are trying to prove, but you need your crutches."

She looked up at him, anger causing her eyes to glitter, "So you're a doctor now, Josh? You can waltz in here and tell me what I need to do?"

"Donna, c'mon," he stuttered, "You're not going to get any better if you keep doing more damage to yourself."

Standing up from the sofa, Donna looked down at him, "I am fine, Joshua." With that, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked toward the kitchen.

Josh watched her walk away from him and marveled at her self control. He knew she must be in pain and yet, she carried herself across the room as if there was nothing in the world wrong with her.

Following her into the other room, Josh decided he needed to come clean about his conversation with C.J. "I talked to C.J. this afternoon."

Donna stopped in midstride and turned to look at him, "Did you tell her about the pictures?"

"Yes. I did. I thought she would want to know in case they become an issue."

"Oh, Josh…"

"Donna – you may not want to admit it, but the explosion made you a pretty prominent person on the news front. The fact that those pictures exist, and are obviously available, means that someone is going to pick up on the story and the whole thing may play out again in the press. C.J. needed to know."

Josh had taken several steps toward her and stopped just short of putting his hands on her to steady her as she had started to sway slightly. He couldn't tell if it was from the emotional impact of everything that had happened over the course of the day, the pain from therapy, or something else. But she gathered herself together and took a seat at the tiny kitchen island, running her hands through her hair and then laying them out on the counter in front of her.

"I also talked to C.J. about something else," he started, watching her watch her hands. "She said that the two of you had a conversation the night of the Correspondents' Dinner lockdown."

At the mention of that night, Josh saw Donna clench and then relax her hands and swallow nervously several times. "She said she told you it was time to 'go out and find yourself'."

Donna sat quietly for a few moments, and Josh leaned up against the counter by the sink, watching her intently.

"Is that true?"

Finally, Donna sighed and mumbled an answer.

"Yeah. She told me I needed to find out who I was without you. That you were holding me back."

"Do you think that is true? Do I hold you back?" he replied, holding his breath.

Donna brushed her hair out of her eyes and turned to him, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Josh, I…"

At that moment, the buzzer for the front door sounded – dinner had arrived. Josh took one last look at her sitting at the island, studying her hands again, and went to the front door to collect dinner and pay the delivery man.

Walking back into the kitchen, he found her pulling bowls from the cabinets and putting out silverware. Believing, in a way that would have made Sam proud, that discretion was the better part of valor, Josh began setting out the take-out cartons and getting drinks from the refrigerator. The two were silent until they sat down, again at the island, and began to eat.

After five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Donna put down her fork and turned to him.

"I didn't tell her I wanted to leave you."

Josh's fork stopped in midair and he looked at her questioningly.

"I didn't tell her I wanted to leave," Donna repeated. "She told me you were holding me back. That I could go out into the private sector and do anything I wanted to do. She said you wouldn't let me go because you had it too good."

Josh set his fork down, pushed himself away from the island and started to pace. Whenever confronted or uncomfortable, Josh Lyman felt the need to move and this time was no exception.

"Josh, you gave me the CODEL and it was just something to shut me up. I've been with you over six years and I am still the copy girl. I'm still the 'assistant'. I'm still just another faceless cog in the administrative wheel. I don't really matter and that depresses me. But I didn't tell her I wanted to leave you."

"How can you say that?" he responded, looking at her with true disbelief this time, "You stopped Stackhouse, you got the Social Security checks sent out during the shutdown, you keep me going every day. What do you mean you don't matter?"

"Josh – I'm the assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff. When I was blown up in a truck in Israel, they didn't even use my name in the newscasts! I was a job description, not a person!" She was standing now, tears of frustration in her eyes. "I am nothing outside of that job – I have no life, no future that doesn't surround making sure you get to the right meeting on time! I am an 'also-dead' and that hasn't changed."

"Donna, that's not…"

"When was the last time I went on a date that didn't end in you calling me or demanding that I come back to the office, Josh? When was the last time I had a real relationship with a man where you or my job didn't interfere? When was the last time I did something that didn't involve keeping your schedule or getting your dry cleaning. God, Josh, I can't remember the last time I had a relationship with a man that involved anything other than making sure I got through a drink without you calling me."

"You seemed to do pretty well in that department when you screwed Colin in Gaza," he retorted.

Donna gasped and clenched her fists, "That's not fair, Joshua."

"Fair? I travel three thousand miles to find you unconscious in a bed in a hospital in Germany and the next time I turn around another guy is by your beside with flowers and a kiss? How long did you wait before you fucked him, Donna? Did you even wait to finish the first drink?"

Her eyes flew open and she was visibly shaking with anger. "How dare you!"

Josh pushed on, "Did you have fun with him, Donna? Did he make you feel important? Let me tell you something about his kind… he toyed with you because you were there, Donna. Not because he cared about you."

She looked at him with nothing short of pure fury and shouted, "Get out! Get out of my house!"

"Fine!" he yelled back at her, walking out into the living room and grabbing his coat from the chair by the door. Donna followed him to the kitchen doorway, holding onto the jamb for support.

"I'm not yours, Josh. You don't own me. I can do as I please."

Walking to the front door, he opened it and turned toward her, "You've done a bang up job on your own so far, haven't you? Are you happy, Donna? Did being out from underneath of my shadow make you feel important? Did being with him make you feel special?"

He left her apartment and slammed the door behind him.

(To be continued.)