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Chapter Text

The ride to the office was quiet. Mrs. Bartlet had instructed him to take aspirin and albuterol, so his breathing had eased a little, but not by much. 

Manchester was a small town, and everything was in bloom. Donna had borrowed an old high school car of Liz’s, since Josh had taken approximately one second after Mrs. Bartlet proposed having the secret service take them to consider it, before he adamantly refused and told her that he’d rather die of pneumonia. 

He was quiet on the ride over. Donna looked over and found him with his head on the window, eyes half closed. Every few minutes he’d cough, and in between was forever clearing his throat. 

Donna pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car, but Josh made no move to get out. 

Sometimes, Josh was all at once twelve and eighty. He bounced from boyish energy, trying to do pull-ups on her door frame, setting her off just to grin at her annoyed face, to the weight of the world on his weary shoulders, and every worry etched into his face. 

He had both his arms crossed and he was curled into his seat, and he looked so tired, so weighed down. 

“Do you remember,” Donna said evenly. “Three weeks after I came to work for you on the campaign-“

“-hired yourself,” Josh corrected hoarsely. 

“-hired myself,” Donna rolled her eyes. “I broke that mug at like 2 AM?” 

Josh actually laughed a bit, a little of the weight disappearing from his shoulders. 

“How could I forget?”

THREE YEARS PRIOR

They’d been up late again, another late night in a string of late nights, looking over early polling data for Nevada. 

“And voting trends in Nevada skew mostly-“ Donna asked, going over to the kitchenette of the little motel room to get her cup of coffee out of the microwave. 

“Republican, though you can generally count the Strip to go blue,” Josh said. “And issues of high importance in Nevada include-“ 

“Anything affecting blue collar workers, tourism, and immigration.” Donna remembered, which was a miracle in and of itself, since it was nearing 2 AM and she was pretty sure her brain was turning into mush. She took another sip of her coffee. 

Josh grinned at her, a wildly blinding thing that showed off his dimples. 

“Right! You’re picking this up quick.” He said. 

“What did I say, I told you that you’d find me-“ 

“Invaluable, yes. I can remember three weeks ago, Donna.”

“Well, it was just in case, since you can’t seem to remember that staff meetings start at 8 AM, not 8:15.” 

She raised her eyebrows over the mug, and Josh looked decidedly irritated, and clearly about to argue with her, so she put her mug down on the table. 

Ah, except it was 2 AM and she was really tired, Toby had yelled at her today over something dumb and that had made her cry, and she may have more slammed it down. The mug fractured against her hand and lukewarm coffee spilled down her leg while searing pain immediately made itself known to her across her palm. 

“Oh, Jesus!”  

Josh stood still for a half second, staring at the blood beginning to gush from her palm, before he rushed forward with a stack of Dunkin’ Donuts napkins from the table and held them against her hand. 

“Donna, you cut your hand!” He said, pushing more pressure against her palm. 

“Yes, Josh, I can see that!” Donna’s voice was an octave higher than usual. 

“We gotta go to the ER.” Josh decided. 

“Josh, you’ve got a breakfast meeting with Leo and the Governor tomorrow-“ 

“Donna! ER! Stop arguing with me!” 

Josh had frog-marched her to CJ’s room, where he had banged on her door until CJ had woken up and forfeited her car keys without so much as a word in argument, driven her to the ER, sat with her as they stitched her hand, and driven her back to the motel as the sun rose. He had met Leo and the Governor in the lobby as they walked in and told her to take the morning off. Donna watched as he took off for the dining room, having not slept a wink in over twenty-four hours, already gesticulating wildly and arguing with Leo. 

“Do you still have the scar?” Josh asked. He had picked his head off the window and was staring at the innocuous building in front of them, seemingly steeling himself for appointment. 

Donna took her hand off the steering wheel and examined her palm. There was still a thin while line, extending from the outer edge of her hand to the middle of her palm. 

“Yeah, a little.” She said. 

“Let me see.” 

Without waiting for her to extend it, Josh grabbed her hand and examined it closely. 

“Hmm. Not the coolest scar.” He said, letting go and turning towards the window to cough. 

“Is that what you were looking for?” Donna teased. “I thought you wanted to know how well I’d healed up.” 

“Nah. It’s only about the coolness factor of the scar, baby.” Josh said, sounding serious. 

However, he was currently wearing his ratty Harvard sweatshirt that was too big, so he rolled it at the wrists, and he was so congested he barely sounded coherent. Donna was less inclined to see him as Josh “I am the law” Lyman, and far more inclined to see him as Josh “fell on his ass on the slippery floor of the Dirksen building because he was wearing new shoes his mother bought him” Lyman. 

“Now, see, THIS scar-“ Josh pulled down the loose collar of his sweatshirt, exposing the top edge of the neat surgical scar Donna knew better than the front of her hand. “This scar is cool. Chicks dig this scar, Donna.” 

“Uh huh.” She said dryly, resting her head on the steering wheel and turning to look at him. “How many chicks have dug it since you got it?” 

She knew full well the answer was zero, but it was fun to watch him squirm. 

He wrinkled his nose at her. 

“Well, none, but it’s the theory of it- hey, don’t laugh at me, I’m sick, you’re supposed to be nice-“ 

“I’m always nice to you, Joshua.” Donna sighed. “Even when you try and distract me in the car so we don’t have to go in.” 

“I wasn’t trying to,” Josh protested. “It just happened. Me and doctor’s offices, we just don’t mix. Like two magnets, you know, with the same poles, and the-“

“Let’s go, Josh.” Donna interrupted what was sure to be an enlightening lecture about the physics of magnetism, and opened the car door. “We gotta see how much effort it would take for me to kill you right now.”

“Probably not much.” Josh sighed, opening his own door. 

“Well, I got good news, and I got bad news for you, Josh.” Dr. Langdon said, pulling out x-rays and slipping them on the light board. “Which one do you want first?” 

Josh, in the middle of pulling his  t-shirt over his head on the exam table, stalled for a second, so Donna answered for him. 

“Bad,” She supplied, gripping her purse a little tighter.

“What If I wanted good?” He protested, pulling his t-shirt hem down to his hips. 

“Too late.” Donna shrugged. 

“Well, Abbey was right, though when isn't she?  You’ve definitely got pneumonia.” Dr. Langdon pointed at the x-rays. “See this cloudiness here and here? It means you’ve already progressed into bilateral, both lungs.” 

“Oh, good.” He said glumly. 

“Now, you said these symptoms came on suddenly?” Dr. Langdon asked, pulling out a clipboard. 

“Yes,” Donna said. “Fever and shortness of breath about two days ago, and then fatigue and that awful cough.” 

“Hmm. That’s awfully quick for pneumonia to develop.”

“Well,” Josh started, then coughed harshly and leaned back against the wall. “I was having symptoms before that.” He avoided meeting Donna’s glare. 

“Mm-hmm. And when did that happen?” 

“About five days ago? I was just getting tired and my chest was tight, but that’s not out of the ordinary-“ 

“No, I should think not-“ the Doctor said, nodding at the large amount of reconstructive material that now made up Josh’s rib cage on the x-ray. 

“-but I didn’t keep up with my meds and I didn’t check my flow, so.”

“We could have caught this days ago.” Donna said tightly, staring at him. 

“Yes?” He said sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

The doctor stared at the paperwork in front of him, then looked up. 

“Well,” he said. “Here’s the good news. While this is certainly not a common cold, I don’t see any good in admitting you unless you progress. I am going to be starting you on a pretty severe course of antibiotics- I’m actually going to call Abbey and see if she feels comfortable starting an IV for you, as I’d like you to be receiving some vitamins and saline as well. I’m also going to call in a prescription for an inhaled steroid. Given your significant trauma, I don’t think we should play games.” 

“Absolutely not.” Donna said. 

“Okay,” the doctor smiled at Donna. “I’ll call her now. Let me give you my business card. If anything happens while you all are in town, you can always call to set something up, or have Abbey’s staff call.”

“Thank you,” Donna said warmly, taking the card and putting it in her wallet. It wasn’t lost on Josh that it’d be given to her instead of him, but he’d probably lose it anyways. 

“Give my best to the family,” the doctor said. “And Josh, let this young lady take care of you. It seems she knows what she’s doing.”

“She does.” Josh said. “She definitely does.” 

Mrs Bartlet was kind enough to set Josh up on the couch of the living room in the guest house, where there was a TV to entertain him. 

“I could have just done work, I don’t watch a lot of TV anyways” Josh frowned, holding out his arm for her to insert the IV. 

“Josh, I know you can’t hear yourself right now,” the First Lady said, inserting the needle deftly and taping it down. “But you sound like you gargled rocks. Bar a nuclear disaster, you’re on strict no-work orders, as is my husband. Don’t even try to get around it, I’ve got everyone on my side.” 

“The sisterhood.” Josh nodded sagely. Mrs. Bartlet made a confused face as she connected the tubing of the IV. 

“The what? Actually, I’d rather not know. Listen, I’m going to be coming in every few hours  to check your temperature and lungs. I know Robert didn’t want to admit you- he seemed to think you might have had your fill of the hospital, lately-. 

“He was correct.” 

“-but I don’t want to take chances. If you get worse, I’m admitting you myself.” Mrs. Bartlet straightened up and started the pump. Josh looked up at the machine now delivering antibiotics directly to his veins.

“How come you guys have this stuff here anyways?” He asked. 

Mrs Bartlet’s face changed, subtly, quickly. 

“Just in case,” she said lightly. “I’ll be back soon. Try and watch some TV. I’ve been told that’s what normal people do.” 

Josh fell asleep again to the sound of midday reruns, and when he woke up, it was getting dark out, and Donna was across from him, eating ice cream out of a mug and staring intently at the screen. He felt significantly worse than when he had fallen asleep, and when he looked up, he saw a different bag hanging from the pole. Ugh. 

His sweatshirt suddenly felt sweaty and hot. He kicked off the blanket that had appeared around his waist. It landed on the floor, which got Donna’s attention. 

“Hi,” she said, putting the mug down. “How do you feel?”

“Did I miss dinner?” Jesus, his voice WAS bad. It was starting to hurt to talk. 

“Yeah. Are you hungry?” 

“No.” He said. He actually just felt nauseous. Blah. 

“I didn’t think you would be. Mrs. Bartlet changed out your meds.” 

“Yeah.” Josh said. “I’m just really hot.” 

Donna raised her eyebrows at him. 

“Josh, honestly, sometimes I think your ego has gone straight to your-“

“Donna!” He whined. He could feel sweat soaking through his collar. 

“Sorry,” she grinned. “I thought it might make you laugh.” She came over and felt his forehead. Her hand was cool to the touch, and Josh closed his eyes and leaned into it. Frankly, he felt like shit. If he could just lay here and Donna could stay right there...

Donna moved her hand down from his forehead to his cheek and kept it there for a second. When Josh opened his eyes, he saw a look on her face he couldn’t quite make out. It was gone within a second. 

“Well, Mrs. Bartlet was by only about half an hour ago and she said your fever hadn’t gotten worse. We can’t take off your sweatshirt cus I’m afraid I’ll kill you if I mess with this IV-“ 

“That’d work too,” Josh mumbled. Donna valiantly ignored him. 

“-but I could open the windows? It’s pretty cool out right now.”

“Alright.” 

Donna took her hand off his cheek and Josh immediately regretted having her get up. But as soon as the windows were open, a cool clear breeze floated through the room and it almost made up for it. 

“How’s that?” She asked, settling back into her chair. 

“Better,” Josh said. 

Donna turned up the TV, and Josh realized she was watching reruns of that dumb political show she wouldn’t stop talking about. 

“This show is so unrealistic,” he complained as characters got into a screaming match in the Oval Office. “Mrs. Landingham isn’t nearly as attractive as that woman.” 

“Shut up Josh, some of us like a little escapism every once in a while.” Donna said without tearing her eyes from the screen. 

Josh sighed and turned his head towards the ceiling. It was turning to dusk, there was a cool breeze flowing, and he could hear the chatter of the TV. So he closed his eyes again. 

“Well, well, well, there he is- the invalid himself.” 

Josh cracked his eyes open blearily, and found CJ, Toby and Sam looking at him from the doorway. CJ was holding a glass in her hand, and was clearly tipsy. And if CJ was tipsy…

 “The three drunk-ateers.” Josh mumbled. “I thought you’d forgotten I’d existed.” 

“Not at all!” Sam said earnestly. He was holding a bottle of Sam Adams loosely, and Josh desperately either wanted to make a joke or steal it from him, but found he didn’t have the energy for either. 

“Donna wouldn’t let us.” CJ said. 

“It was like The Rules all over again.” Toby said forlornly. “ ‘don’t bother Josh, he’s sleeping, don’t wake him up for the basketball game, don’t let him have alcohol’...if I wanted to be bossed around, I’d move back in with my mother.” 

Josh screwed up his nose and looked over to Donna’s seat. 

“Where is she, anyways?”

“Showering.” Sam said. 

“Okay.” Josh said. He honestly felt worse than he had all week. His stomach was churning painfully.  A different bag hung off the IV pole and he stared blearily up on it, wondering if perhaps he was gonna- 

Oh no, he was definitely gonna- 

Sam seemed to realize what was happening- bar Donna, he had spent the most time with him after Rosslyn- and flew with surprising speed to shove a nearby waste bin under Josh’s mouth, just in time for any small amount of food he’d managed to eat to come right back out. Jesus. His throat was so fucking sore. 

“Holy shit!” he heard CJ swear. 

“What?” That was Donna. Josh managed to lift his head and make eye contact with her for approximately .5 seconds before he dove back into the bin. A part of him was slightly embarrassed to be so clearly retching in front of his coworkers and friends. Another part of him had rationalized that they’d all already seen him hungover to the point of corpse-like quality and also in the middle of a full-blown-not-in-reality flashback, so this probably didn’t mark very high on their lists of “Intensely Intimate and Embarrassing Things Josh has had Happen in Front of Me”. Of course, all of this was occurring as he was gagging so hard he thought he might break a rib. 

“Josh is throwing up!” CJ said.

“I can see that!” Donna sounded slightly alarmed, but honestly not enough that Josh in turn felt alarmed. 

“Toby, go get Mrs. Bartlet. Tell her she was right.” 

“And she’s gonna know what that weirdly ominous and vague-” 

“Toby!”

“Ow! You don’t have to hit me, I’m going, I’m going-” 

The door opened and closed. Josh gagged again, if only for the acid now coating his entire mouth, and was suddenly acutely aware that his entire face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He lifted his head out of the waste bin and leaned it all the way back on the couch. Donna was sitting on the other end of the couch with a glass of water and a wet rag, clearly trying to give him space but wanting to help. God, he loved her- you know, as a friend. Assistant. Whatever. 

“Hi,” She said. “That sounded like fun.” 

Josh huffed a laugh, and immediately regretted it, coughing harshly and spitting into the bin. 

“Sorry, I’ll stop trying to make you laugh!” Donna said. “Though I’ve got say, I’m not sure this Noel Coward-esque wit can be contained-”
“ Donna. ” Josh groaned. He turned his head and looked at her sideways. Her hair was still wet, pulled hastily into a ponytail, and she was wearing an oversized Yale sweatshirt that looked familiar. 

“That’s my sweatshirt.” Josh noted. He took the proffered glass of water from her and took one sip, just testing to see if his stomach would reject it. He didn’t throw up, so he took another sip. “You’re a thief.” 

“I am not a thief.” Donna said, leaning over to wipe off his forehead with the cool rag. “You left it at my apartment, so it was fair game.” 

“You didn’t go to Yale Law School.” Josh mumbled. 

“Yet.” Donna corrected. “Give me a few years.” 

“Mm.” Josh agreed. “I don’t feel so good.” 

“Hate to break it to you, but you don’t look so good either, Caspar.” 

Josh looked over and realized, again, that CJ and Sam were still in the room. CJ was swilling around her martini glass and looking at him over the top of her glasses. 

“You want some?” She offered the glass towards him, grinning. 

“I’ll pass.” Josh mumbled. “Though I’d take a tranq, if anyone’s got any of those.” 

“Sorry, Josh,” Sam said sympathetically. He had already drained his entire beer. “I left those behind in my college days.” 

“Are we talking about drugs?” Mrs. Bartlet came in through the door with her ever-present black bag and Toby trailing her. 

“Just about how I’d like some.” Josh said. Mrs Bartlet sat on the coffee table in front of him and crossed her arms. 

“How ya feelin, Joshua?”
“Bad.” Josh said simply. 

“Nauseous?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s the antibiotics. Luckily, Robert prescribed you an antiemetic after I told him about your delicate system-”
“Traitor.” Josh muttered to Donna, who lightly whacked his arm. 

“-and we can start that now.” 

“I gotta say, Josh, this whole pneumonia shtick you’ve got going on is really putting a damper on the R&R thing.” CJ sighed into her empty martini glass. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” Josh said as Mrs. Bartlet pushed up his sweatshirt sleeve to check his IV. “But I have to stay the center of attention somehow.” 

CJ laughed. She got up and stretched. 

“Well, mi amour, I can’t speak for these other two skateers here, but I promised the President I’d be back for another scintillating round of trivia about fifteen minutes ago.” 

“Go. At least I got out of that.” Josh mumbled. Mrs. Bartlet had pushed cold saline through his IV and he shivered. 

“Say, Josh, any way you can infect me within the next, I don’t know, thirty seconds?” 

“Get out, Sam.” 

“Going.” 

Josh closed his eyes as the door slammed behind them. Mrs. Bartlet finished administering the medication, and Josh suddenly felt exhausted. He was vaguely aware that Mrs. Bartlet and Donna were talking, and that someone was pulling a blanket over him, but before long, he couldn’t distinguish between the TV and the conversation and from what was dream and what was reality. 

When he woke again, his stomach was blessedly calm. It was definitely much later; the breeze coming in through the window had turned icy. The TV was casting a dim white glow on most of the room, playing old reruns. 

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.” 

Josh looked over and found the President in an armchair, reading by the low light of a lamp, legs crossed. 

“Mr. President-” Josh tried to scramble up, but found his head swimming, and could only manage to sit halfway up, propped on his elbow. 

“Stay down, Josh,” The President was...laughing? He put his book down and looked at Josh over his glasses, smiling. “Abbey told me everything that was going on. Stay down.” 

“Yes, sir.” Josh allowed himself to lean back against the couch. “What time is it?”

“Ah, past one, I think. Abbey isn’t letting me work, except my daily briefings. I can’t remember the last time I went to bed before two.” 

They had been pulling some late days lately, hadn’t they. 

“Quite a stunt to pull, Josh, waiting to get pneumonia until we’re all gathered in New Hampshire.” 

“Hand to God, sir, it wasn’t on purpose-” 

“Oh, I’m sure it had nothing to do with ignoring your assistant there?” 

The President nodded at the chair next to him, where Donna was curled up under a blanket and clearly dead to the world. 

“Maybe.” Josh admitted. 

“Yeah. And you’re sure it had nothing to do with getting out of trivia night?” 

“Sir, really, I think I’d get shot again to get out of-” 

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Josh.” The President got up and shut his book. “But listen to me. You be nice to her, you hear? I hear a lot of things- I don’t understand most of it- but I hear a lot, and from everything I hear, Donna has done a pretty good job of keeping you together this year.” 

“Yes, sir.” Josh’s mouth was dry. “She has.” 

The President stopped and looked at him intently. 

“Don’t take that for granted, Josh.”

“No, sir, I won’t.” 

“Okay. Get on up to bed. Abbey already came by and took off all your tubes and whatnot. Make sure Donna gets up too.”

“Yes sir. Good night, Mr. President.”

“Good night, Josh.” 

The door shut behind him, and Josh spent a moment sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the screen, and wondering what taking it for granted looked like. Donna, ever a light sleeper, woke up with a start. 

She stretched off the chair and rubbed her eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Josh suppressed a smile. A really small part of him wondered if they could just fall asleep together, like they had before, blame it on the drugs and how tired everyone was, and get up the next morning and pretend it never happened. 

“Wha’ time is it?” Donna asked blearily. Her hair was sticking up and the lines of the chair were imprinted in her cheek. 

“Late. We should go to bed.” Josh said. He tried getting up again and found that it was easier, this time. He managed to stand up, and even go to the chair to offer Donna a hand. She took it, and then stood there in front of him, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, face half-illuminated by the TV, and studied his face. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked quietly. 

“Alright. Better.” Josh responded, equally as quiet. They weren’t touching; they were well-versed in these moments, in completely toeing the line and being able to back away with full deniability. 

Donna searched his face for a few more seconds.

“Good.” She said. “Come on, let’s go to sleep.” 

And then the moment was gone, cataloged with the dozens of others under what almost was , and Donna was offering her hand as they walked up the stairs, and Josh was taking it, because he knew once they got to the top, they’d drop it, and he’d go to sleep in his little bed, and she’d go to sleep in hers. 

But at least for now, they had this.