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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 ½ 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 ½ 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
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