"Mr. Keene in room 136 needs a catheter change before the end of the shift, nurse."

"Oh come on, Joan." I scoff. She's been giving me the silent treatment for 3 days. "You can call me Donna."

She says nothing, staring at her file folder and jotting a note before closing the cover and walking away.

I will not be deterred. I see my opportunity when she heads towards her office and I follow her in there, closing the door behind me.

"If you have something you'd like to say to me, please do it so we can get back to being professionals and, ideally, best friends."

"Did you break it off with him?" She crosses her arms and stands directly in front of me.

"No." I answer confidently. "And I'm not going to."

"Well, then I guess we have nothing to say to each other."

"Let's not do this, Joan. Can we please, please, just all sit down and talk about this like rational adults?"

"I think that option went out the window when Josh came over last Sunday afternoon to read me the riot act."

"Joan." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I didn't have any control over that and you know it."

"Of course you didn't. Because you have no idea what kind of a man you're getting involved with."

"How can you say that about him?!" I finally lose my temper on the subject, thinking about how tender and loving he's been to me while we try to navigate this issue with Joan. "Maybe YOU don't know what kind of a man I'm getting involved with. Did you ever consider that? While you were busy rolling your eyes at his public persona maybe he turned into the kind of man that I would think you'd WANT someone you care about to end up with. He's kind and he's gentle and we love each other."

"So you think." She scoffs.

"No. I don't think. I know!" I square off. "And you of all people should realize that you don't fall in love with someone because it's convenient. You're married to your brother's best friend. Don't you see how hypocritical this is?"

"It's not the same thing!"

"How can you even say that?"

"We never kept it from him because we knew we didn't have anything to hide!"

"Look, I'm sorry you were the last one to know. I'm sorry that I wasn't straight forward with you as soon as you came back from your honeymoon. I'm sorry that Josh never said anything to you and that Sam thought you knew. It was the perfect storm, okay? But it's not because Josh and I are doing anything wrong or have something to hide, which you would understand if you'd just listen to what I have to say and open your eyes to what our relationship really is, and not just what you perceive it to be."

"I know how he is. You asked me to be honest with you, Donna. You told me you wanted my opinion if I thought you were making a mistake. Well I'm giving it to you because I know that's exactly what's happening. It's only a matter of time until you find out too. He can be a selfish jerk!"

"You're being a selfish..." the expletive I'm about to let loose on her is cut off as the PA system blares.

"Trauma One. Trauma One, Blue! Blue! Trauma One, Blue! Go!"

I immediately feel a heaviness in my chest. I look over to Joan and watch the color drain from her face.

"He's going to be okay," I tell her softly. "They're both going to be okay."

She finds the ability to nod and I reach out to give her hand a squeeze. But I don't have time to linger. When a Trauma One Blue is called the President's trauma team has to go running. And right now, that's me.

I bolt out the door, spotting our friend Megan in the hallway. "Stay with Joan," I command on my way down the hall. "Don't leave her alone until she talks to Sam."

I'm at the designated meeting point near the entry in a flash, taking my place next to Dr. Keller and the other members of this somewhat secretive team.

Dr. Keller goes over instructions and assignments one last time, telling us he's unsure of the nature of the President's condition at this time.

But we all know. If he was having heartburn they'd take him back to the White House and he'd be seen at the medical unit there. A couple of the team members wheel a crash cart and an ultrasound into the Trauma Room. Something is seriously wrong. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. This is it.

In a flourish of activity, the motorcade pulls up to the door where we're waiting. Men in dark suits storm into the hospital and fan out as the first part of the team rushes towards the Presidential Limousine. He's on a gurney and being wheeled towards us in no time flat. The secret service stands aside for us to enter a closed off room and then circle back in around us.

I immediately get to work, trying to bring the team up to speed on his condition. "B.P. 134 over 78. Pulse is 108. What's his pulse ox?"

"98," a paramedic responds.

Dr. Keller tries to talk to the President.

As soon as I hear someone confirm a gunshot wound, my senses heighten and my knees feel like jello. What happened tonight in Rosslyn? Where's Josh? I feel the bile rise in my throat and I'm about to dismiss myself from this procedure when Leo, who the President has been asking for, walks in.

"Anybody killed back there?" President Bartlet doesn't hesitate to ask as I carefully cut off his shirt for a closer examination of the wound. I take a deep breath to prevent my hands from shaking as I listen for the answer.

"The two shooters," Leo answers amid the chaos. I know I'm not supposed to be listening but I am. "They got them through the window."

"Anybody in the crowd?"

"There were some injuries. They're coming right now."

My eyes flick over to Leo for a quick second and my hands slow ever so slightly.

"What about our people?" The president asks.

Leo remains calm. "C.J. hit her head on the ground, but other than that…"

I let out a ragged sigh of relief, which catches the President's eye. He glances at me for a moment but I focus on the task at hand. Josh is fine. Now it's time to turn my attention to providing the President with the best possible care.

He's all prepped and ready but we've been cautioned not to proceed with the anesthesia at this time. Though the President's injuries aren't life threatening, every minute is time we shouldn't be waiting.

He's in fairly good spirits, all things considered, and though I've always liked him politically I can really see why Josh remains so energized to work for him. It's hard not to like the man.

The president requests a moment alone with his chief of staff so I excuse myself and step into the adjoining room, gathering a few needed supplies. I'm pulling more gauze and a new pair of scissors when the door closes. I look up to see Dr. Lee and the First Lady in front of me.

"Dr. Bartlet, I hope they told you that it's looking very good." Dr. Lee remains optimistic.

Though I know she hears him, the woman that I know to be Abigail Bartlet stares at me and I move to make an exit and return to the President's bedside.

"This is Donna Moss," Dr. Lee explains, halting my actions. "She'll be assisting and needs to be privy to President Bartlet's complete medical history."

Abbey Bartlet studies me for a moment but doesn't directly acknowledge me before she speaks.

"There are 14 people in the world who know this, including the Vice President, the Chief

of Staff, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. You are going to be the fifteenth. Seven years ago, my husband was diagnosed with a relapsing remitting course of M.S. When all this is over, tell the press, don't tell the press. It's entirely up to you."

And with that, she turns on her heels and leaves. Though I realize her statement likely has political ramifications beyond what I can even comprehend, what matters to me is that I now have a better understanding of my patient's health. Right now, he's a man with a gunshot wound in my trauma room. I'm going to give him the best care I can. That's all there is to it.