Title: Joshua
Category: Romance/Humor/Drama
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What happens when Josh finds out that he shares the same first name with Dr. Freeride?

Disclaimer: Not one inch of the West Wing belongs to me, not even a molecule of the air they breathe
Author's Notes: Feedback the best stuff on earth

Sorry this has taken me so long to put up, my internet and computer have been giving me trouble.

Chapter 8

Life just wasn't the same when you factored in how he had left. He hadn't said goodbye just walked out the door and gave her that grin. The one that always left her wanting more and now the odds were she would never get what she wanted. She slumped in a cold, plastic chair next to Mrs. Landingham.

Chair. She had gotten his fixed today. He had fallen on the floor when he thought it was there and she had laughed. Now, even the lines from her smiles have disappeared.

She would give anything to get him back. She should have kept him in the office, thought up something that he desperately needed to get done so that he couldn't go to the Newseum. Hell, she would have even thrown caution to the wind and pushed him against the door, pressing her lips against his if that meant he didn't have to go through this, if that meant she didn't have to sit here waiting for doctors to save his life. She would have done anything.

And now the only thing she can do is wait.

Wait for Joshua.

- - - - - - - - -

Hours had passed and the faces blurred together. Mrs. Landingham became Charlie. Charlie became Sam. Sam became Toby. Toby became CJ. CJ became Zoey. Zoey became Mrs. Bartlet. It didn't matter anymore because she couldn't see. She didn't want to see. The pain on their faces spoke of words that Donna didn't want to distinguish. And the hand that grasped hers never felt right. It was never the same hand that guided her gently on her back or that lightly brushed hers when taking a file. No. These were the hands of people that didn't understand. They were not the hands of Joshua.

Her ears began buzzing and she knew she could no longer sit still. She had to see him. She had to make sure everything was ok. If she was there, if she was with him, everything would be fine. Things had always been fine when she was around. This time would be no exception. She had to see him.

Donna didn't realize that as she stood she was still grasping the hand of the First Lady, pulling her along. She also didn't notice the other hands that stopped her from walking. The hands of her friends, the hands of Josh's friends, the hands, she decided, of traitors. She fought against them, but her strength had left. They pushed her back into a cold, plastic chair.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

She didn't feel anymore. When Sam tapped her on the shoulder Donna didn't bat an eye. Finally, the reverberation of her name reached her ears. Her head snapped towards the sound.

"How you doing?" He was concerned, not only about Josh, but her as well. She cleared her throat, a loud sound that seemed to erupt in her ears. Her eyes glanced quickly into his and Sam could briefly see the pain that was tormenting her.

He knew that sitting here wasn't what she needed. He knew that being so far away wasn't helping them, wasn't helping her. "I'm going to get you some water," he said in response to her silence. "I'll be right back." He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but knew it stopped miles short of his eyes. Sam didn't know if things were going to be ok, and he wasn't going to lie to her.

- - - - - - - - - -

As the glass panel met her hand she felt a rush of cold, finally, something, she thought. It was only a brief touch but she knew, just from pressing against the hard surface, that the room on the other side of the window pane was not pleasant. Tension always radiated through walls, no matter if they were thick, thin, or see through and this was no exception.

Donna hadn't looked in yet – she still had to locate her courage. It had left when she walked through the doorway and immediately focused on the floor. There were scuff marks everywhere. This could be the last time she saw him alive – or as alive as one can be when they stop your heart to save you from death. Stop Josh's heart. The thought kept flying through her mind, burying itself in every crevice, digging deep into her psyche. How can you stop someone's heart and expect them to live? It all seemed so ridiculous, but she wasn't a doctor, nor was she in the mindset to pretend to be so.

Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up, gazing into the operating room. A strangled noise emitted from her throat and she unconsciously pushed herself closer to the glass. He was so pale. His chest was cracked open and medical personal were everywhere. Normally he would be grinning from all the attention but now his lips were a form of blue and unexpressive. She briefly wondered if he was cold – not that it mattered, there was absolutely nothing she could do. She couldn't make his blood flow faster, she couldn't make his heart beat, she couldn't save his life, and, hell, she couldn't even throw a blanket over him for warmth. She was completely and utterly useless.

But her eyes kept scanning the scene. Crimson filled her vision and for a second her usual stomach of steel seemed to change to jelly and she thought she was going to be sick. That's when she grabbed onto her White House ID and continued to morbidly watch the life saving procedure.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He wanted to talk to them, tell them that was his son in there…tell them that God forbid that boy dies their asses will be in a sling so fast their heads will spin. He wanted to tell them that, but he couldn't. He was the President of the United States, the most powerful man in the world…and he couldn't do a damn thing…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He didn't feel well. His mouth was dry, his head hurt, and he could swear that a damn Republican elephant was crushing his chest. He tried to make a noise or movement, but everything felt heavy.

Water.

That's what he wanted, it's what everyone wants, what everyone needs to live. Water. He didn't even care if it was from the DC tap, just something to wet his mouth and throat. Josh decided to wait a little while, gather his strength and make some sort of sound to get attention. He hoped that this was just a horrible hangover but the loud noise that suddenly invaded his senses told him otherwise -- a constant, screeching beep that was making him nauseous.

"Off." His voice sounded raspy and week. "Off," he croaked again, trying to get the damn thing to silence itself. That's when he felt a straw placed gently on his lips and a weight in his hand as five fingers intertwined with his.

"Drink, Joshua." He did as she said. He wanted to drink greedily, gorge himself on water, but his body wouldn't let him. His throat felt like a cats scratching post and the liquid hurt going down but at least the tiny sips of water drowned out the beeping. He still hadn't opened his eyes but he could feel the glare of the lights sending sheering pains into his head. He pushed the straw away and made enough noises into words that Donna understood to shut the lights off. When the pain lessened he heard Donna talking about his Mom arriving soon, and how she stopped for red lights when she didn't mean to, and just general blabbery that he tried to pay attention to but instead sleep overtook him. Her warm hand still clutched his.

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Feedback is always appreciated, thanks for reading and hopefully the next update won't be in about a month!