Random Thoughts: The season opener left me speechless and my head
spinning with ideas for fanfic. Of course, my fanfic writing time was
cut into because my job got crazy suddenly. But I've managed to whip
together this brief vignette from one of the scenes. I hope you enjoy
and I'm excited to read everyone else's fanfic about the first two
episodes. --Jennifer
Summary: Donna's thoughts as she watches the surgery to save Josh's
life.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to have fun with them.
Please don't sue me. I have no money.
The O.R.
What kind of inane hospital has a window through which people can
watch surgeries in progress? As if my mind hasn't already imagined
the worst. Now I can watch the surgery in "real-time" - see Josh's
near lifeless body splayed out on a table with his chest wide open.
But it's like a car wreck on the side of the road, I can't turn away.
As if just my mere presence can make the doctors work faster and
smarter and make Josh better quicker.
I should have known something was wrong as soon as I entered that
waiting room. Everyone seemed a little too grave,especially after
finding out the President was going to be okay. The back of my mind
was sending warning signals because I didn't see Josh in the
room, but I rationalized it away, thinking, `Well, Josh is off
doing his job.'
It wasn't until Toby told me that Josh had been hit, that the
horrible realization came to the forefront of my mind. Then, I asked
the stupidest question on the planet, `Hit with what?' As if
both he and the president had been hit by children throwing
snowballs. But at that moment my brain froze and couldn't
comprehend anything beyond the fact that Josh was lying somewhere in this
hospital with a bullet in his chest.
I don't really remember the hours after that. I know there were
people coming in and out of the room. Sam and I talked for awhile.
Mrs. Laningham came and sat with me. I know the First Lady was there
too. I wasn't nervous sitting next to her until I realized that
it probably wasn't professional to be doing nothing, staring into
space while everyone else was scrambling around me.
Leo and Toby came in and out of the room several times. In fact, one
time Leo came in and was talking in a low voice to Toby about taking
the President to see Josh. I didn't understand, because I thought
he was still in surgery, but it turns out there was this window where
you could watch surgeries in progress.
So, now I'm standing at that very window, watching Josh fight for
his life. And I know for a fact, that if Josh dies, something very
important in me will die too. Josh changed my life. He made me feel
valuable and appreciated again, something that hadn't happened in
the 2 * years when I was living with Tom, or, as Josh refers to
him,Dr. Free Ride.
I remember the first few months after Josh agreed to let me tag along
with the campaign - answering his phone, handling his schedule. It
was awkward between us as we tried to figure out what our roles were.
I was tip-toeing around, afraid to make a mistake that would cause
Josh to fire me, (even though I wasn't getting paid), and Josh
seemed to be waiting for me to burst into tears over my heartbreak or
leave him high and dry and rush back to Tom's side. But through
it all,we worked well together. And once I got the rhythm of the
campaign down, I forgot all about Tom. I had even forgotten about my
dire financial situation.
That is until one night in Seattle.
I had just withdrawn the final $200 from the sale of my car and
without a paycheck coming in, that money was just enough to get me
back home.
It was a few hours before a fundraising event and I had thrown on
some jeans and a sweater and was walking along the shops near Pike
Place Market. I had taken my one decent dress to a one-hour dry-
cleaner, knowing that the dress had seen better days and hoping that
everyone wouldn't notice that, once again, I was wearing the same
outfit.
I stopped in a small coffee shop to get some tea and sat on one of
the benches overlooking the ocean. Working with the campaign had been
the best thing I'd ever done. And I'd done it for myself. For
the past 2 * years, I hadn't done anything for myself.
Everything I'd done had been for "us." – Tom and I. I had
forgotten what it was like to just do something for me - to be just an "I."
However, being an "I" was one thing. But being a completely
broke "I" was quite another. I really didn't have anyone
left to turn to, besides my parents, and going home to them would be like
admitting defeat. But I didn't see any other way. I pulled my
knees up to my chest, rested my head on them and let a few tears go.
"Donnatella?"
No one called me that besides my mother and I had a moment of fear
that she and my father had tracked me down to force me to come home.
I lifted my head into the smiling eyes of Josh Lyman.
"Your full name is Donnatella?" he asked, reading off a piece
of paper he was holding in front of him.
I wiped at my tears, nodding.
"Isn't that the name of one of those Teenage Mutant Power Ranger
things?"
I hiccuped a laugh. "That's a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and
his name is Donnatello. Not Donnatella."
Josh laughed too before sitting down. "So, you weren't named
after a cartoon character is what you're saying."
"Nope."
"Donnatella Moss. I like it," he said, smirking at
me."Now, when I really need to get your attention, I'll use your full name. Care
to share your middle name?"
I smiled at him. "Definitely not. Especially if you're going
to be yelling it up and down the halls."
"Okay," he smiled. He picked up my tea. "So,whassup?"
he asked, lifting the lid of my tea to peer inside. "This isn't
coffee?"
I glanced over. "No. It's tea. Peppermint tea."
"Yuck," he said, making a face, handing it back to
me."For future reference, you should know that I prefer coffee. Preferably black and
none of that coffee with the silly name, like frappucino or
mochachino or mocha frappucino."
I risked a glance at him. There was teasing light in his eyes. Or at
least that's what I think it was. He still made me nervous.
"I'll keep that in mind," I said, quietly back, resuming my study of
the boats coming in and out of the harbor.
We sat quietly for a few minutes.
"Is everything okay, Donna?"
I figured there was no time like the present to tell him. "I'm
leaving the campaign, Josh."
He turned to me. "What?"
"You heard me," I whispered, sipping my tea.
"Why? Where are you going to go?"
I took a deep breath, because I didn't want to cry in front of
him. "I have to go home."
"Home?"
"Yeah."
I could feel Josh studying me, while I looked out onto the
water. "Did something happen at home?"
"No. Everything is fine. For the first time in a long time,
everything is fine," I said, sighing.
"But you're leaving?"
"I have to, Josh," I said, turning to look at
him."Remember, you asked me the first day we met about how I'd be able to travel
with the campaign? About selling my car?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, that money is almost gone. I have to go home," I said,
my voice breaking on the last few words. I put the tea back down on
the bench and wiped at my tears.
"So I should send your paychecks to your parents house?"
It took a few seconds before his words sunk in. I turned to
Josh's laughing eyes and he handed me the piece of paper he had
been holding. It was a paycheck envelope. With my name on it. My full
name. I looked up at him.
"Congratulations, Donnatella.You were right.I put you on
salary."
I ran my finger across my name. This was the first paycheck that was
all my own. A paycheck I had worked for. A paycheck that would
support no one but me. A big, fat tear dropped onto the envelope.
"If you cry all over it, I don't think the bank will cash
it," Josh said.
I looked up into his face. It was tender, happy, concerned, amused
– all at once. And I remember that this was the first moment
where I learned to read Josh's mood by watching his eyes.
"You put me on salary?"
"Of course."
I was ecstatically happy, but I was still crying. "Thank
you," I managed to get out.
"You're welcome," Josh said, grinning that cocky smile
that I've grown to love, while digging in his jacket pocket for tissues.
I studied the check for a few more minutes, wiping my eyes with the
tissues he gave me. I wanted to know how much it was, but I
didn't want to open it in front of Josh, so I folded it and stuck
it in my jeans pocket.
"Donnatella?"
I looked over at him.
"You'll stay now, right?"
His face was a mixture of fear, concern and something else that I
didn't understand back then and that I'm not sure I
understand now.
I nodded and smiled at him. Still afraid that my voice would crack if
I tried to say anything more.
"Good," he said, settling back and throwing his arm behind us on the
bench.
We sat quietly studying the ships in the harbor for a little while
longer, before it was time to go. Josh walked with me to the dry-
cleaner and even paid for my dress, telling me to save my money and
buy myself something nice to celebrate.
I did buy myself something nice to celebrate, but it wasn't a big
thing. Later that week, when I was shopping in a bookstore in a small
town in Iowa, I bought a keychain with a saying from Eleanor
Roosevelt on it. I still have it to this day and everyday I look at
it and remember exactly how far I've come. It says:
"You can gain strength, courage and confidence by every
experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face...
You must do the thing which you think you cannot do."
So, now as I stand at the operating room window, literally staring
fear in the face – the fear that Josh may die and I may never get
the chance to tell him how he changed my life – I remember that
quote from Eleanor Roosevelt. And I know that no matter what tomorrow
brings, I'll get through it, and I'll make sure Josh gets
through it too.
THE END