Wow! Did you guys realize that I started Recovery a year ago tomorrow? I didn't realize it until I l saw the published date. So Happy Birthday Recovery! And to celebrate, here's an update! I wanted to have some humor, after all the necessary angst, while still moving the story along, so I hope you guys enjoy!

He paced the room. How long could this possible take? What if they didn't see what he saw? What if they didn't take Donna seriously? Why wasn't she home?

He flung himself on the couch, wincing, remembering the hell he gave his on psychiatrist all those years ago. Even recently, when his Dad died, and Leo practically made him go back.

Should he say something to her? Should he ask her how it went? How did one go about doing that? His mom never really said anything when he came home from his appointments. They always talked about other stuff, like baseball games and what was on NPR and school and...stuff. So what was he supposed to do? Ask her what was for dinner? He ran his hands through his hair for what seemed like the thousandth time. He was going bald because of her, he thought.

Screw it. He'd call Leo and find out what was going on and why Donna wasn't back yet.

"Leo McGarry's office."

"Margaret. He busy?"

"Hello, Josh. I'm fine. I have a little bit of a cold, but otherwise I'm perfectly well, thanks."

"Margaret! It's important!"

"Fine. Hold, please."

"Hello?"

"Leo. What the hell is taking so long?"

"Josh, what are you talking about?"

"Donna," as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"She's still in her meeting. Leave the poor girl alone."

"She should have been home by now."

"Josh, you of all people should know that you can't put a time frame on these...meetings."

"God, Leo, call it what it is. She's talking to a psychiatrist. A shrink. A therapist. Just stop using euphemisms."

"Fine. You, of all people, should know that talking to a therapist can take a very long time. So if she's not home to make you dinner, get off your ass and make yourself some."

"Hey, Leo, I'm worried about her," Josh said quietly.

Leo sighed. "I know you are, kid. We all are. It's been stressful here, playing damage control after everything that's happened. And don't you dare think that I mean that you need to come back here, because we're fine. I'm just saying things aren't exactly a cake-walk at the White House."

Josh laughed. "When are they ever?"

Leo smiled. "Yeah, Josh, you got a point."

"I know I do. I was shot, not brain-dead."

Leo winced. "Don't make jokes like that, okay? It's morbid."

Josh laughed, then became serious. "When is Donna coming home?"

"Jesus, you're like a little kid. When she's ready, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"She's learned from the best, you know. She's probably giving that psychiatrist hell."

Josh smiled grimly. "I hope not."

–

He managed to catch a couple of hours of sleep before he woke to his stomach grumbling. He made himself a sandwich, wishing that Donna's apartment wasn't so damn quiet. It was stifling, it was so quiet. He tried the background noise of television, but it didn't work. Nothing, he found, could really compare to her presence.

Her phone rang. For a panicked second he wondered if he should answer it. What was the protocol for answering your assistant's phone? Should he? What if it was a boyfriend?

Ooh. That might be fun.

He realized, though, that Donna had caller-id and it was the White House.

"Hello?" he winced, realizing that his voice was way too eager for her voice to be at the end of the line.

"Hey, Josh. Behaving yourself?" C.J. asked.

"I'm a model patient."

C.J. snorted. "Like hell you are. How are you feeling?"

"Like I was shot in the chest."

"Leo said you were being morbid today."

"I'm sorry if you can't appreciate my humor."

"Seriously, Joshua, how are you?"

"Really, C.J., I'm good, I swear."

"You say so. Hey, I saw Donna earlier today. She alright?"

"Yeah, she just had to take care of a couple of things today."

"Josh, you're lying. I can tell when you're lying. I bet you're fidgeting. You're fidgeting, aren't you? What's up?"

Josh sighed. C.J. knew that he went to see a psychiatrist, she had to when she became Press Secretary and suddenly it was her job to know everyone's business before the press did. "She's seeing...someone, C.J."

"Oh...oh. Is she going to be okay? I'm sorry, Josh. I didn't realize-"

"It's okay, C.J., no one did. And she'll be okay. She's on the right path at any rate. But look, if you wouldn't mind keep this to yourself? I know this goes without saying, but I really don't need this to end up on Page Two of the Washington Post."

"Scout's honor, mi amour. I'll deflect the press the best I can."

"Thanks."

"Listen, Sam wants to stop by and see you and I thought I'd make the trip as well to see my favorite invalid. Are you up to visitors?"

"Yeah, that would be great. I'm bored out of my mind and it would be great to see you guys."

"Great! We'll be over in an hour."

True to their word, Sam and C.J. came over in an hour, finding Josh watching a program about pot farmers in California.

"So this is what the greatest political mind in America does in his free time?" Sam quipped, raising his eyebrow at the television.

C.J. swatted his arm. "Don't tell him things like that. It'll go to his head."

Josh grinned. "I've missed you guys."

"We've missed you too," C.J. said, hugging him.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.

"Is that the question of the day or something?"

Sam put his hands up. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I've just heard that question one too many times today."

Sam looked at him sympathetically. "You'll be back with us soon."

Josh gave him a sad smile. "I know."

C.J. looked around the place. "This is a pretty nice apartment."

"Yeah, Donna's got good taste."

C.J. gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher. "You look like you've lived here for awhile."

Josh raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean, C.J.?" his political instincts putting him on edge.

"You look like you're meant to be here, Josh. Am I going to have to start evading questions from Danny about your relationship with Donna?" C.J. meant it teasingly, meant to make Josh laugh or blush and stammer as he usually did when people eluded to him and Donna being together romantically, but then he turned pale, his face suddenly getting what C.J. called the 'oh shit' look.

"Oh God."

"C.J."

"Oh good, holy God."

"What?" asked Sam.

"You didn't," C.J. said.

"Did what?" asked Sam.

"We didn't," Josh said.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Josh, under penalty of death, you will tell me exactly what is going on RIGHT. NOW."

Josh, at least, had the grace to look sheepish. "We kind of kissed."

"KIND OF?!"

"How do you 'kind of' kiss?" Sam mused.

"We were both under a lot of stress. It's not like it's anything to get excited about."

"Oh please. There are office pools to see when you'll get together!"

"Are there really?"

"Yes."

"People really need to get lives."

"Joshua, I am going to ask you again, is this going to become an issue for the administration."

Josh looked her in the eye. "No, C.J."

"Okay," C.J. said. "Okay."

She sank down onto the couch. Josh sat back down as well, staring blankly at the television.

"So how do you 'kind of' kiss?" Sam asked, breaking the silence.