Thanks as always to my betas, HarmonyLover and chai4anne...
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Josh opened his eyes slowly and looked around at the sterile white walls of his hospital room. He'd been drifting in and out of sleep for the last several hours. He'd been wrapped in a warming blanket for several hours, but that had now been removed. His leg was in a white plaster cast. He was pretty sure he'd been given some painkillers when he'd been admitted, but they seemed to be wearing off, because he was starting to become more aware of the pain in his leg. Or maybe it was just because his body had finally been warmed to the normal temperature and he was no longer numb with cold.
The time that had passed between when he'd initially heard the helicopter and when he and Matt had been found had probably been less than an hour, but it had felt infinitely longer. He remembered worrying that maybe the rescuers wouldn't find them at all, but they'd eventually heard Matt and him feebly calling for help. Then had come the challenge of getting him out of the ravine with his broken leg. They'd ended up having to strap him to a stretcher and lift him directly into the helicopter, something which he'd probably have found both terrifying and humiliating if he hadn't been too groggy, and too relieved to be rescued, to register any other emotions.
After he'd gotten to the hospital, he'd called his mother's cell phone as soon as he'd been able to. She'd been at the airport trying to get on standby for a flight to Iowa. He'd told her he was okay, and managed to convince her she didn't need to come up.
Ronna's mother had stopped by his room about two hours ago. She'd looked pale and exhausted as she'd told him that Ronna was in surgery but that the prognosis was good. They expected she'd make a full recovery. Everyone else on the plane was safe, too. They'd all been treated for hypothermia and various sprains, fractures, and other injuries, but they'd live.
A tragedy had been averted. Everyone was okay. Josh knew he should be thankful, and he was. But one thought tormented him whenever he let himself acknowledge it: Donna hadn't come to see him. Every time he'd woken up after having dozed off in his hospital bed, he'd glanced at the nightstand, hoping to see a card or note, something to indicate she'd come while he'd been asleep, but there was nothing.
He didn't know why he'd thought she would have come. She was working for his opponent's campaign, and it was the middle of the night. Well, early morning by now, he corrected himself mentally, noting the clock on the wall that indicated it was now a little after 6:00 am. Maybe she'd come later in the day. Or maybe not.
But in his heart he was absolutely certain that the Donna he'd known, the one he'd fallen in love with, would have come immediately, no matter what time it was or what kind of tension and unresolved issues lay between them. She would have been sitting by his bed when he'd woken up. But that Donna didn't exist anymore. She was different now. She was a happy, confident, upwardly mobile young woman. And if he'd had any doubt about it before, he now knew for sure that he no longer factored into her life. It was really over between them, whatever "it" had been. Josh fought back tears, his heart feeling emptier than it had in a long time.
He lay motionless on the bed for several minutes, absorbing the loss, and then began searching for a distraction. He raised his bed into a sitting position and began looking for the television controls, eventually finding them on the bedside rail. But when he clicked on the "power" button, nothing happened. He clicked again. Still just a black screen. Great. No TV. Just him and his miserable thoughts.
"I unplugged it earlier, while you were asleep and the nurses weren't looking." Josh was startled by the sound of the familiar voice.
"Leo!"
"Hey, kid." Leo walked toward him, pulled up a chair, and sat down by his bed. "You've gotta stop scaring us like this; I've already had one heart attack."
"Sorry."
"Everyone's been worried sick back in DC, you know," Leo told him. "The President's going to call you later. As soon as I tell him you're up for it."
"Thanks. Tell everyone I'm fine."
"Only you could define a concussion, a broken leg, and a body temperature of 93 when you were rescued as 'fine.'"
"Well…you know."
"Yeah."
Josh changed the subject. "You unplugged my TV?"
"Yeah."
"Leooo…"
"You need to rest. The last thing you need is your blood pressure spiking over the idiot talking heads on FOX News."
"I'm not a masochist. I'll watch CNN."
"Oh yeah, that's much better."
"Come on. I need to watch the news. Not just for my amusement, Leo. I'm still running a campaign here; I need to know how all this is playing out. Excuse me," he called to a woman in scrubs who was walking by, "Can I get my TV plugged back in?"
"Just give us a minute," Leo insisted to the woman, who shrugged and continued working. "Josh, there's something I need to tell you."
"What?"
"Donna." He paused for a moment. "I don't really know the best way to explain this. You see-"
"Yeah, yeah. I know."
"What?" Leo looked at him in surprise.
"She can't come see me." Josh couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "She'd love to, but the Russell campaign's gone back to New Hampshire or South Carolina or wherever the hell their next stop is, and she just can't make it. But she asked you to give me her best; that was very thoughtful of her."
"Josh-"
"It's okay. Really. It's fine." The sarcasm dropped from Josh's voice, and now he just sounded sad and resigned.
"Josh, she's in jail."
The words took several moments to register. When they did, he studied Leo's face to see if he was kidding. His former boss's expression was deadly serious.
"What?" He sat up straighter in his bed, staring at Leo. "For what?"
"Assaulting the Vice President."
"What?" Josh was sitting upright now, his face registering shock.
"I was hoping you wouldn't have to hear about it until you were out of the hospital. That's why I unplugged your TV. I didn't want you getting upset."
"Leo, what in God's name happened?"
Leo sighed. "I don't know the details. I've called Russell's office, and his cell phone, and Will Bailey's phone, but they don't seem to be taking my calls. But according to the press reports, she allegedly pushed him into a table in his hotel suite."
"She pushed him into a table?" Josh repeated the words disbelievingly.
"Allegedly. There were no witnesses, but that's what the statement from the Secret Service said."
"Why on Earth would she…?"
"I have no idea."
"Oh my God." Josh buried his head in his hands, his mind swimming. What had happened? What in the world could have possessed her to do something like that? He couldn't imagine Donna physically attacking anyone, let alone someone with Secret Service protection. Not unless…
She'd pushed the Vice President. In a hotel room. With no one else around. Suddenly Josh felt ill as only one possible explanation came to mind. He clenched his fists, trying to keep down the rage that was building inside him.
"Josh? You okay?"
Josh stared at the bedsheets, his voice low and gravelly. "Leo, tell me right now, are there any rumors that I've somehow missed about Russell having problems around women?"
"If there are, I've missed them too. I haven't heard anything."
"The bastard!" Josh exclaimed, slamming his fist against the bed rail, Leo's words having no effect on him. The lack of rumors didn't mean anything. Men like that generally knew how to cover their tracks.
"Now come on, Josh, you're really jumping to conclusions here. There's no reason to think anything like that happened."
"Something happened! He did something to her. Donna Moss doesn't just go around attacking people, not unless she had a damn good reason. You know that, Leo."
"I'll have the President give Russell a call and try to figure out what happened. Ignoring my phone calls is one thing. Ignoring the President is quite another."
"Yeah, like there's any chance we're going to get the truth out of him."
"He's the Vice President of the United States, Josh. Appointed by someone you and I both admire."
"Jeff Haffley picked him, not the President. And if any of you still think that was a smart decision…"
"Josh-"
"She must be so scared." Josh's voice became quiet. "I have to see her."
"I don't think the doctors are going to be letting you out of here for a little while. Not with that concussion, and they want to monitor your heart, too, after the ordeal your body's been through."
"Well, that's too bad. I have to see her now. She's all alone in there – has anyone been to see her?" Josh suddenly demanded.
"I'll go as soon as visiting hours start. They're going to be setting bail at her arraignment later today; I'll make sure she's covered as far as that goes. And you know we're going to make sure she has the best lawyers money can buy."
Josh ignored Leo as a nurse came by to check some of the equipment by his bed. "Excuse me, who do I see about getting discharged?"
"Oh, the doctor doesn't want you discharged for at least another twelve hours – possibly not until tomorrow morning," the nurse informed him matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, fine. I understand that. I'm telling you I need to leave now."
"Sir, you can't."
"You guys can't keep me here against my will."
"Joshua-" a warning note sounded in Leo's voice.
"Sir, you need to be monitored. We need to make sure there are no lasting adverse effects from-"
"He knows. Just ignore him," Leo told the nurse.
"Bring me the discharge papers," Josh snapped.
"Damnit, Josh, what are you trying to do, kill yourself?"
"I'm fine, Leo! My body temperature is back to normal, my leg's in a cast, and there's nothing else they can do for that until it heals on its own. I'm not going to lie here and be 'monitored' while Donna's sitting in a jail cell."
"And what makes you think she wants to see you, anyway?"
Josh felt his heart drop. He wasn't consoled in the least by the look of regret that crossed Leo's face as soon as the words were out.
"I'm just saying-" Leo began to backtrack.
"If she doesn't want me there, she can tell me so herself." Josh's voice was tinged with hurt, but still determined.
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About forty-five minutes later and over many more of Leo's arguments and protests, Josh scribbled his signature on each sheet of a pile of forms, indicating he understood he was leaving the hospital against medical advice and releasing the hospital from any liability. His newly-issued pair of crutches were tucked under his arms; he would be needing them for at least the next six weeks while his leg healed. Luckily, he had some experience using crutches. Shortly after he'd gotten his first job on the Hill, he'd been sprinting down the Capitol steps trying to find his boss, who had disappeared for parts unknown right before an important vote had been unexpectedly called, and he'd taken a bad fall and broken his ankle. That had been nearly 20 years ago, but while using crutches might not be quite like riding a bike, he'd found himself able to maneuver around the hospital corridors with them with relative competence. The doctor had written him a prescription for painkillers, which he'd stuffed in his pocket. He'd fill it later if the pain got too bad. Right now he needed to help Donna, and he didn't want his mind clouded with drugs.
He felt sick when he thought about what must have happened in Russell's hotel room. The image of the Vice President making a pass at Donna, so aggressively that she'd had to physically push him away, and then get arrested by the Secret Service for defending herself, horrified him. And that she'd had to go through that at the hands of someone from the administration he'd spent seven years working for, someone he'd had a role in selecting…
President Bartlet had made the choice to appoint Russell, of course, but he'd relied on his staff for guidance and vetting. Especially then, after what he'd just been through with Zoey. Josh should have done more than just voice his opposition to the appointment. He should have dug harder into Russell's background. A slimeball like that, surely there was something there that he'd missed, a reason he could have given Leo and the President for rejecting Russell that was more concrete than "he's an empty suit and boring as hell." If he had, Donna wouldn't be sitting in a jail cell right now.
And of course, Leo was right. It was possible that Josh's imagination was running away with him about what had happened in the hotel room. But Russell had to have done something horrendous to provoke that kind of reaction from Donna, Josh was certain of that much.
"You do know this is probably one of the stupidest things you've ever done, right?" he heard Leo say as he finished signing the papers.
Josh looked up at him. "Don't be mad at me, Leo,"
Leo sighed. "I'm not mad. Just promise me, if you start feeling dizzy, or like anything's wrong…anything at all…you'll come right back."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Promise me, Josh."
"I promise."
"I checked; the jail doesn't allow visitors before 9am. How do you figure you're even going to get in to see her?"
"I'll…you know. Figure something out."
"I have no doubt," Leo sighed.
Josh handed the forms to the receptionist and turned to Leo. "When the congressman is discharged, could you tell him where I am and that I'll be back as soon as I can, and I'll explain everything then?"
"Sure."
"And…you know. Make sure he gets in front of the news cameras. A lot."
Leo smiled. "I will."
"Thanks."
Josh turned to leave, but before he walked away, Leo spoke. "Hey, I didn't mean what I said about Donna. I was just trying to keep you from leaving the hospital. Of course she wants to see you."
Josh took a deep breath. "I guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"
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"Hey, blondie," the female guard walked up to her cell.
"What?"
"That plane you were asking about? They found it."
"They did?" Donna raced to the front of the cell. "Is Josh okay?"
The guard shrugged. "I guess all the passengers survived except one."
"Who?" Donna started to feel sick. She knew what was coming.
The guard gestured toward the corner of the cell, where a television seemed to have suddenly appeared. A rescue helicopter was lifting what Donna knew had to be a body bag from the airplane wreckage. The bright red words at the bottom of the screen confirmed it: "Josh Lyman Dead at 45."
"No!"
She didn't know if she'd actually screamed out loud, or if it was just in her dream, but in any case it was enough to wake her up. She slowly sat up on the cot, shaking. She'd managed to doze off several times over the last few hours, and each time she'd had a variation on the same dream. The plane found and Josh dead.
She dropped her head into her hands, the tears coming again. She'd been tormented all night by memories of Josh, memories which in the past had always served to comfort her and make her smile, but now just made her cry even harder. The day she'd snuck into the Bartlet campaign headquarters and assigned herself to be his assistant. The note he'd written in the book he'd given her for their first Christmas in the White House. The time he'd gotten the President to make a phone call to Mrs. Morello. The snowballs on Inauguration Day.
She remembered the prank she and that guy Michael had pulled on Josh, way back during the Bartlet transition, in retaliation for Josh calling her Bambiesque. Afterward, Michael had told her that Josh had said he'd vouch for her with his life, and that as soon as he'd thought it might be serious, he'd refused to so much as confirm how long she'd worked for him and had started talking about getting her a lawyer. They'd shared a good laugh over the fact that Josh wasn't as insusceptible to gullibility as he liked to pretend, but in her heart she'd been touched by the trust he'd expressed in her, and how quickly he'd moved to protect her. The truth was, she had been feeling scared about going to work at the White House, where the stakes were so much higher than anything she'd experienced before, and the potential consequences of a screw-up so much greater. The "prank" had reassured her that if she ever did find herself in trouble for real, Josh would have her back.
And he always had. He'd found a way to protect her from a perjury charge after she'd lied about her diary. He'd smoothed things over for her as best he could after she'd lied about that quote Jack had given the Post, even figuring out with Danny's help that she hadn't been the source after all. And he'd flown out to Gaza to see her – and Will had been right, whatever that trip had meant, she knew it hadn't just been about P.R.
She needed him now. She needed him to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. But he wasn't there, and nothing would ever be all right again. It was only a matter of time before one of her dreams played out for real. Before she learned that the plane had been found and that Josh was dead.
"Miss?" It was a different guard this time, one who didn't look quite as hostile as the other one, but Donna didn't dare ask about the plane.
"Yes?" She didn't get up from her sitting position on her cot.
"You have a visitor."
"Who?" She blinked in surprise.
"Just so you know, this is highly irregular. Visitors usually aren't allowed before 9:00. Usually through phones and windows, but I don't want to have to answer any questions if I open that room up early. Just for the record, I'll deny this ever happened if anyone asks me. Anyway, guess it pays to have friends in high places, huh?" She gestured to her right, and he approached the jail cell. Donna's heart stopped beating.
Josh. He was on crutches, his leg in a cast, and there was a large bump on the right side of his forehead. But he was alive.
She wanted to get up and run to him, put her hands through the bars and hold him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. A part of her was afraid she was still dreaming, and that once she tried to touch him, he'd vanish. And besides, her muscles didn't quite seem to be working at the moment. So she just stared at him, her mouth open slightly in shock.
She wasn't sure what she looked like, but he must not have interpreted her expression as a welcoming one, because his gaze dropped to the floor, and he suddenly looked mortified that he'd come.
"Donna, look…" he began. He looked up again at her, and his expression softened as he studied her face, which she knew must be horribly red and blotchy from hours of crying. "I know how scared you must be, but I really think it's going to be okay. I left messages with a couple different defense firms. Trust me, they're the best in the business. I can help you decide who to go with…if you want…or if you don't like any of them, we can find someone else. And I don't want you to worry about the money; I'll take care of it. It's the…you know, least I can do."
She still couldn't bring herself to speak, and he continued. "But really, I'm not even sure you're going to need them. I thought about it on the way over. The Vice President isn't going to want to pursue this, not if he knows what's good for him. I don't know what he did to make you do whatever you did, but I'm guessing he doesn't want the voters to know, either. He can't force the prosecutor to drop the charges, but I think pressure from the Vice President, who also happens to be the quote-unquote 'victim', should be enough to make it go away. I left Will Bailey a voicemail and told him all that, just in case his brilliant campaign strategist's mind hadn't come up with it on its own, so maybe he can get it through Russell's thick skull." He paused and stared at her. "Donna, say something."
"I thought you were dead!" she blurted out.
He looked startled. "They didn't…no one told you they found the plane?"
"Getting news from a jail cell is apparently a little more difficult than one might imagine."
"Oh God, I'm sorry. Yeah. We were rescued a little before midnight. Ronna had to have surgery, but it sounds like she's going to be okay. So is everyone else."
She walked over to him and put her hands through the bars, touching his arms. Then she reached up and gently ran her fingers over the bump on his head. "You're hurt."
"Nothing that won't heal."
"Josh…" her voice shook, and the tears started to spill from her eyes once again.
"Hey. It's okay." He reached through the bars and rubbed her shoulder. "Everything's going to be okay."
"No, it's not. I'm so…I'm so sorry for everything."
"You don't have anything to be sorry for."
"Yes, I do. You don't-" her voice broke off. "I'm sorry for the way I left my job, Josh. It was horrible and inexcusable, and I can't believe I did it. And all the mean things I said to you…the 'Dr. Seuss nightmare' crack…I'm so sorry." She wasn't ready to confess the other thing yet, but at least she'd gotten that much off her chest.
He touched her arm gently. She was startled to see the tears that had welled in his brown eyes. "It's okay. I deserved it."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did." His voice caught slightly.
"No, you didn't," she insisted again, more forcefully this time.
He sighed. "I'm sorry too, Donna. I should never have canceled those lunches. I should have…well, I should have done a lot of things differently."
"Hey, time's almost up, guys!" the guard called from the end of the hall.
Donna's eyes met Josh's, and for a second she felt the heaviness and emotion of the moment lift as they both smiled.
"So how'd you do it?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"Get them to let you in here to visit me."
"It's amazing how people listen to you when you tell them you have the diplomatic rank of a three-star general."
"You have the diplomatic rank of a three-star general?"
"I don't know. People seem to believe me when I say it, though." He smirked. "I may have thrown in something about having President Bartlet's private line on speed dial, too, just for good measure."
She shook her head. "You're really something, you know that?"
"I do, actually."
She gazed tenderly at him, feeling her heart rate increase as his fingers brushed hers between the bars of the jail cell. She knew they still had a lot to talk about, and she had no idea how she was going to tell him what she'd done, about her meeting with Peter Burton. But he was alive, and right now that was all that mattered.