Donna was taking him home today.
Josh paced around his room, happy they took out all those tubes and let him move around like he wanted to.
Donna was taking him home today.
He probably shouldn't be so excited, but he looked forward to her visits. He practically counted down the minutes.
He hoped he looked ok. He was dressed in one of his old Harvard t-shirts and a pair of sweats. His hair was sticking up from all sides but he couldn't really fix it. He tried, but it just went right back up.
He always had this problem, he realized morosely.
Donna saw him at his best and his worst. He shouldn't be worried what he looked like. He was shot, for God's sake.
Besides, it wasn't a very boss thing to think.
She was probably getting a coffee, one of those weird drinks she liked from Starbucks that were more like milkshakes than coffees.
He bounced on his heels. Where was she?
"Mr. Lyman?"
"Yeah?"
"I want to check your vitals and your bandage once more before you check out."
He hated being prodded by nurses. He felt fine, yet they insisted on checking him every five minutes, it seemed like it.
"Shirt off."
"Oh. Yeah. Ok."
He took off his shirt, wincing when he looked down and saw the bandages. He should be proud of it, but when he saw it he felt sick, a weird taste in his mouth like a penny and he needed to sit down.
She took them off, examining the forming scars. It was angry looking, Josh thought. He didn't know scars were that red and…angry. He was starting to feel a little queasy.
He heard a gasp.
Donna was there at the door, staring at him but not meeting his eyes.
All she could see was his scar.
Somehow this irritated him. He wanted to snap at her, point out to her that he was more than scar tissue, he was the damn deputy chief of staff that bullets couldn't get rid of. He wanted to tell her that he was still Josh, that he would still yell for her, still know every member of Congress but not know when his next meeting was. That he still wouldn't eat right and he still would come to her apartment when he was drunk and yell at her roommate's cats. He would make fun of her gomers and sabotage her efforts to have a social life.
She looked up at him, the tense moment finally broken. She put on a smile, a forced one that he knew she was only doing for his sake.
She looked pretty, in a casual way. The effortless look that he always liked better than the forcedness that Mandy always had. Donna, he realized, could be wearing his Harvard shirt as she was wont to do and still look amazing.
That wasn't a very boss-like thought either.
"Hello," Donna greeted the nurse. He wanted to go up to her and put his arms around her, force her to confront him.
No more fake smiles.
"Good morning. I was just showing Mr. Lyman how to dress his wound. Are you his wife?"
Josh suppressed a laugh as Donna turned red. He was surprised she didn't get it more often. He did.
"No. Just a friend," Donna said. "But I still should know. Men don't listen, do they?"
"You'll want to keep it clean, of course, so make sure to wash with extra care. Change the bandage once a day and give it some time to breathe before you put the dressing back on."
"OK," Donna nodded. "Is there anything else we-I need to know?"
"We'll be giving you some papers on the general care of post surgical patients, but make sure he doesn't do too much too soon. He should shy away from heavy physical activity for now-"
Donna snorted.
"Hey!" Josh felt the need to protest. "I was thinking of running marathons now, since my brush with death."
Donna inhaled sharply, looking over at him. "Don't joke about things like that, Josh. Go put your shirt back on."
He supposed that was supposed to be a dig at his physique, which really just made him want to keep his shirt off. More than that he wanted to apologize to her, to make that look she gave him go away.
"Just keep him as comfortable as possible. He has breathing exercises that he must do every morning when he wakes and every night before he sleeps."
Donna nodded again. "I assume there will be follow up appointments?"
"Yes, those you will schedule with the specialists listed on this paper," the nurse handed Donna another paper to add to her growing collection.
He was glad she was here. He didn't want to deal with this. He was still on pain medication, still felt the dull ache of the wound.
There were too many of them.
He was like Frankenstein.
He caught Donna staring once. There wasn't any revolution in her eyes, there never was. She just looked so sad.
He wasn't perfect anymore, he realized. Sure, he could get Congress to bend to his will, he could run a country and get a dark horse elected, he could defy death but Donna would never see him.
She would see the scars.
The thought scared him more than it should.
"Make sure he eats well, doesn't overtire and does his breathing exercises. If you have any questions at all, don't hesitate to call his doctors."
Donna nodded. He knew by the end of the day she would have all of his appointments scheduled and she would go grocery shopping.
"OK, Josh. Let's get you home. I think you've done enough damage here," Donna told him lightly. "Your things are packed, except for the files you insisted on looking at this morning," she said, looking pointedly at the files on a table.
"Someone has to run the country."
"And that someone is not going to be you. Not for a while, at least."
"I'm the third most powerful person in DC."
"Of course you are," Donna said placatingly.
"Don't patronize me."
Donna only smiled, picking up his backpack and offering to help him up.
"I can walk."
His mother always called him stubborn. In truth walking hurt like nothing he ever felt.
Donna frowned. "I'm getting you a wheelchair."
"I'm fine."
"Stop being a grouch. I'm getting you a wheelchair and you're going to behave yourself."
She walked out only to return a few minutes later with a wheelchair.
"Sit," she commanded.
Josh raised his eyebrow.
"Fine," she spat. "I'm too damn tired to deal with you, Joshua. Either get into the wheelchair or suffer."
She has that look on her face again. The one that makes him want to go to her and make it go away.
He got into the wheelchair. That would make her happy, bring the smile back to her face. Maybe she wouldn't leave.
He got a smirk out of her, when he turned to look up at her.
She wheeled him out of the hospital. Was it just him or were there tons of people looking at him? He wished that Donna hadn't had mystical power to make him do her bidding. He could have walked out of here without all these people staring.
They got in a taxi, sans wheelchair.
"How are you doing?" She asked him anxiously.
"I'm fine. Just sore. How are you?" He peered at her face. She put concealer on her circles, he noticed.
She gave him a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Fine. At least, as fine as one can be babysitting you."
"Thank you," he said simply, slipping his hand into hers.