Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)

Rating: PG

Archive: If you want it, you may have it. Just tell me
first, please.

Summary: Donna visits Josh in the hospital.

Disclaimer: Characters from "The West Wing" don't
belong to me. Instead, they are the sole property of
Aaron Sorkin, Warner Brothers Television and NBC. No
copyright infringement is intended and I am making no
money from this story.

Notes: Written in Josh's POV. It follows 'The Thin
Line,' but it's not necessary to read that in order to
understand this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am beginning to hate hospitals.

O.K. That's not exactly true.

I've always hated hospitals. I've just never spent
enough time in one to fully realize it.

But now I realize it.

I do.

Oh, I really do.

I really really do.

I really... You know, I think I've already made my
point.

I'm not even sure why I hate it so much. After all, I
would be dead if it weren't for this hospital. But
still, I can't stand it.

Maybe it's the antiseptic mood that surrounds the
whole hospital atmosphere. Everything is so sterile,
from the clean white walls to the freakishly
professional nurses. I mean, they can't even seem to
take a joke. And none of the jokes are even at their
expense. Just a friendly piece of humor to break the
ice.

And all I get is a blank stare.

Not even an irritated stare. More of an 'I could care
less' stare. An 'I'm not listening' stare. And, as
most people will tell you, I can't stand it when
people don't listen to me. It drives me crazy.

So, that's one thing.

Another thing I can't stand is the stillness. It's so
quiet. One thing you can rely on, working at the West
Wing, is that there will be noise. And running around.
And the desperate drive to get everything done.

The job has taken away sleep, dating, and any chance
of a personal life. But truth is, I need it.

I do.

I really do.

I really... Okay, I've made my point here, too.

Want to know something else that stinks? How people
treat you when they come to visit. They act like
you're fragile. If I were fragile, I wouldn't be
alive. They tiptoe around you, trying to act overly
cheerful. And they refuse to insult you.

I've purposely said some incredibly stupid things, but
nobody will mock me for them. Even Toby isn't
resorting to sarcasm.

Which is very weird. And somewhat creepy.

He hasn't smiled, though, which is comforting.

And he's glared at Sam a few times, which is always
good to see. Just as a sign that the world is still
turning, at least.

But still, I remain not glared upon. Not mocked,
prodded, or treated with derision.

If I can't rely on these people to mock me, whom can I
turn to?

On second thought, the world *has* stopped turning.

But there's something that I miss more than the
excitement, the work, and the derision.

I miss Donnatella Moss.

I've been in this hospital for two weeks, and have yet
to see Donna. I'm told she spent the first few nights
after the shooting at my bedside. But I don't remember
that. All I know is she hasn't been to see me since.

And I miss her.

"Joshua?" Donna's voice says, snapping out of my
thoughts about...well, Donna.

"Donnatella," I reply.

She's standing apprehensively at the door. She has a
worried expression on her face, and she looks like she
hasn't slept much. A mix, I guess, of the trauma of
the shooting and the stress of having to watch over my
office.

"Should I come in? Because I can understand if you
don't want me to. If you want to rest. I'm sure you
need it," she rambles.

"No!" I say, a little too desperately. "No," I repeat,
a little softer. "I feel fine."

She steps closer, takes a chair that's sitting in the
corner, and puts it near my bed. She sits down. "So,
how's it going? Dumb question," she scolds herself. "I
just haven't had to go to the hospital much. I don't
know how to act," she begins to ramble again.

"It's fine. The nurses tell me I don't know how to be
a patient," I joke, trying to put her at ease. The
last thing I need is Donna to be uncomfortable around
me. I don't want her to treat me as fragile, too.

"Yeah," she says with a smile. "That sounds like you."

We're silent for a while. I'm not sure if it's a
comfortable one or not. I just know I'm glad to see
her again.

"Donna. Why haven't you come to see me before today?"
I blurt out.

Donna looks surprised. "I thought the first thing
you'd ask me was how things are going at work." She
pauses. "They're fine, by the way." She pauses again,
then looks away from me. "I guess..." her voice trails
off. "When you were shot that night, Josh, I
felt...terrible. You're...you're my friend. I saw you
being operated on, I saw you laid up in this hospital
bed, I felt what it was to think I'd never see you
again. I thought if I came back here, it would all
come back."

She pauses again, and I feel even more in love with
her than I did before.

"But, I needed to see you, Josh. I had to come see
you, even if it meant revisiting that," she concludes.

She's silent for a while, and I can't say anything.
Donna has managed to make me speechless. It's a select
few who can achieve this.

After a long while, she finally looks up at me. She
has a small smile on her face. "And I thought I owed
you the pleasure of my company."

"Well," I reply softly, "I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad, too," she says.

Then, she gently takes my hand in hers. I look into
her eyes, and it all becomes clear to me. It becomes
clear that my feelings for her are deeper than
anything I've felt for anyone. And it's clear that she
feels the same way. Even if we never say it.

"And you better get out of this hospital soon," she
says with a sly smile. "Or I may just steal away your
job."

Oh, she isn't going to treat me like glass.

I guess being in this hospital won't be all bad.

THE END