Did she…?
Yes, yes she did. He might be in a terrible amount of pain right now, but that didn't mean that he was incapable of hearing.
Donna called him honey. And he was pretty sure she didn't mean it in the friendly, completely platonic way. But then, he was probably projecting, an action that he was rather proud of remembering from when he took psychology in high school.
He turned his head to look at her, the look on her face was almost comical. Her eyes were wide, her mouth a perfect 'o'. He didn't realize people actually did that. He always assumed that it was a cliché.
"What? Am I bleeding profusely?" he joked, hoping to diffuse the situation before doing something stupid, like kiss her.
"No-I mean, nothing. It's nothing."
He grinned at her. "Distract me. I hate these breathing exercises."
"How am I supposed to distract you?"
He shrugged, a movement he soon regretted. It hurt way too much. "Are you going to Wisconsin this year?"
"Probably not."
"Don't stay here because of me."
No, that's not right. Stay here. Stay with me because I don't like the thought of you not being here.
"Do your exercises. I don't mind, you know. My mom will just tell me that I don't eat enough and ask why I don't have a boyfriend. I'm not missing much."
He breathed in, hating the constrictiveness of his lungs that the doctors told him would take a while to go away. He held it for thirty seconds, trying to think of a good reply.
"Are you sure? You look forward to it every year."
He always dreaded it.
"Yeah. I'll just email them tomorrow. Tell them that I won't be able to make it and I'll try to make the effort at Christmas."
"Maybe then you can go skiing."
She smiled at him. "I still don't have skis, though."
"I'll make sure to get on that," he said dryly, though he was pretty sure it was lost in his breathlessness.
"OK. You're done. Do you want a pain pill to help you sleep?"
"Please. I need it."
She gave him the pill, before going into his room. "Do you ever change your sheets?" she chastised him.
"I'm not home enough to even care," he replied, already feeling woosy from the pill.
"That is truly disgusting, Josh."
He shrugged, wishing that she'd stop talking and that his back would stop hurting, and maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to sleep without the dreams coming back.
Donna came back, still talking about how she had no idea how he manages to survive on his own. She smelled like some kind of flower, Josh wasn't really sure which, but it was nice.
"I'll be on the couch, ok? Just call if you need anything."
He nodded, not really wanting to take the effort to say anything, not entirely trusting himself once he realized how good she smelled and how soft her hands were.
She helped him into his bed, pulling the blankets up. "Sleep well, Josh," she murmured.
"Stay," he slurred. "stay with me, just for a little…"
"OK," he heard her say. He felt her run a hand through his hair, murmuring about how it looked like he'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket.
He hoped that she would keep running her hand through his hair, keep touching him because it was easily the nicest, most comforting feeling he'd felt in a while.
He woke up, though he was pretty sure it wasn't because of a nightmare. Josh couldn't remember anything, except that Donna made him dinner and then there wasn't something about the sheets.
He wasn't really tired now and he hurt like hell, but at the same time he didn't want to wake up Donna-it was early.
He could wait this out. He was tough.
OK, no, he wasn't. But he could just get up and get it himself. He was tough enough for that, at least.
He wondered if he would always be this sore, if getting out of bed would always be a challenge. He wasn't young anymore, as his mother liked to remind him. Of course, she was talking about grandchildren while he was talking about not being twenty anymore, but it was the same difference.
He was getting old.
He shuddered. After all, he was heading into the dangerous territory of middle aged, not only that but he was shot and more likely than not, he would be sore the rest of his life.
And there wouldn't be Donna to take care of him.
The thought was appealing though-a thought that had been running through his head ever since he asked-practically begged-her to stay. After all, she controlled his life in the office, she might as well control his life elsewhere.
But god, the scandal alone would overshadow the presidency. He would be made into a joke and Donna would never be able to find work in this town again. Leo would kill him, if CJ didn't get to him first. Then Toby…
He would never make it out alive.
But being able to kiss Donna would be so worth it…
He made it to the kitchen, popping two pills into his mouth. They couldn't work fast enough, he thought as the throbbing got more insistent in his side.
He heard a sob coming from the living room. He thought it was just an aberration, one of those noises that one heard that were just a product of an overactive imagination.
Donna was crying. He poked his head to watch her, to see if she was still asleep, if she was in the middle of a nightmare.
Her back was to him, so he couldn't see her face. Josh wanted to go over to her, shake her awake and-
Well, in his medicated head, kissing her would be an amazingly good idea.
He wasn't good with crying girls. It was usually his fault. Mandy would throw things at him, tell him it was his fault, but refuse to tell him what, exactly it was.
He remembered Joanie would cry too. Mostly over a boy, or there were the few times that he went too far with his teasing and he made her cry.
Or the time that she couldn't go to a concert and had to stay home to watch him.
So he naturally stayed away from crying girls and as much as he wanted to, as much as he just wanted to kiss it and make it better, he went back to his room and wished that Donna's nightmare would go away.