Best-Laid Plans

Chapter 21 (PG-13)

Donna's features were screwed up tightly in pain, eyes shut, her right arm on her left shoulder. She shook her head, indicating she needed a few seconds. Josh heard his own ragged breathing as she waited for the pain to subside. "I'm sore," she said finally. She tried to turn her head a little, only to wince again. "My neck is absolutely killing me."

"It's the couch," Josh said, ignoring the pain in his back and residual numbness in his right arm and leg. After Rosslyn, he knew better than to sleep on a couch if he could avoid it. He'd feel it for a day or two afterward. But he hadn't even thought about Donna's injuries. He'd sat there and watched her last night until he finally dozed off, thinking about the quandary he found himself in. He loved Donna. He loved Donna! This was nothing new, he'd loved Donna for a while. He realized that now. But this was the first time that he actively realized and acknowledged that he loved her. He'd started to feel giddy until the other half of the truth hit him. Donna was his assistant. He loved his assistant, Donna. Oh, shit.

And she was in pain. "I'm so sorry, Donna. I was gonna let you sleep until the end of the movie, but then I guess I fell asleep, too, and—"  

"It's OK," she said. "I don't think it would have mattered. I was pretty comfortable last night. The First Lady told me it would probably be more stiff today than it was yesterday. That's why she wanted me back on the Vicodin. Speaking of which..."

"Oh, yeah, that would probably help, wouldn't it?" he extricated himself from the position he'd contorted into to be closer to her when she'd cried out. He did his best not to let his slight limp show as he headed toward the kitchen, but Donna saw it.

"Take some Advil, Josh," she said sympathetically.

"It's not that bad," he said noncommittally. He hated it when that night in Rosslyn reared its ugly head again.

"Take it anyway," she said sweetly.

Donna downed the Vicodin and took a shower after Josh helped her tape her shoulder, hoping it would help ease the stiffness some. It turned out they hadn't slept too late, at least for a Sunday...7:15.

Donna stood under the pulsing water for a long time, trying to let it loosen her muscles. She finally got out and managed to rewrap her wrists herself. She took the plastic off her shoulder but just couldn't rebandage it one-handed, especially with how sore she was.

Once he'd heard the water stop, Josh asked through the door if she'd eat a bagel and she found she actually wouldn't mind one. She knew she had to eat, anyway, to take the antibiotic. Plus, she'd discovered it would keep the Vicodin from knocking her for such a loop. She'd felt much more sane last night after she'd eaten her sandwich.

She smiled to herself as she put the bandages away. He had been almost unbearably sweet last night. Well, unbearable, except that she could get used to that kind of behavior from Josh. He'd been just as attentive this morning, but she could tell he was tired. They shouldn't have fallen asleep on the couch last night. That was going to wear on him.

She stepped out into the kitchen and took a bite of the bagel Josh had already fixed the way she liked it. He smiled to see her not fighting him on the eating thing anymore.

"I need help putting another bandage on my shoulder," she said apologetically.

Josh dropped his own bagel back on the plate. "'Kay, well let's do that first, `cause I'd like to, you know, keep this down."

"Where in the world did you get such a weak stomach, anyway?"

"I don't know, but don't say that in front of people, OK? Makes me sound like a pansy-ass." He flinched once he got a good look at the stitches again.

"Aren't you more concerned that you are a pansy-ass?"

"Nah. Politics is perception, Donnatella," he said as he applied Neosporin to the wound.

Donna jerked away.

"Sorry," Josh said immediately. "I was trying to be careful."

But Donna wasn't favoring her shoulder. She was looking at him with a little fear in her eyes. Oh, God, not again. "Donna?"

She blinked and shook her head a little. "I...no, you didn't hurt it. It's OK. I'm just really sore."

"But I didn't hurt you?"

"No, Josh, it's fine," she said as she turned her shoulder back toward him and her face away. Her voice was the slightest bit unsteady, though. He didn't make a move to put the bandage on.

"Donna," he almost whispered it. She looked at him after a moment. "What happened just then?"

"Nothing, I just...it was nothing, OK? It was nothing you did," she said, grabbing his hand and giving it a little squeeze.

"OK," he nodded. She turned away from him again, thinking she'd satisfied him. "Then what was it?"

She exhaled heavily. "It was just...it's nothing, OK? It just reminded me of the other night for a second."

"What did?" he asked very quietly.

"When you..." she cursed herself inwardly for letting it show. He wasn't going to be happy now until he got an answer. "That night, Bernard, he...when he found out my name, when he saw my license? Before he saw my White House ID. He looked at my license and he kept calling me `Donnatella Moss.' Calling me by my full name. He seemed really taken with it," she bit the last part off sarcastically.

"How did he see your license?" Josh asked with a great deal of reverence. He'd wondered before why the guy saw her license, why he knew where she lived and why that filled her with such fear. But there'd been a lot to deal with in the last 36 hours.

"He asked me my name," she said, leaving out the part about why he took the sudden interest in her. "Everyone else had a nametag. He asked and I didn't tell him. I don't know, I guess I just got scared. So, he knew my bag was mine, obviously, because I was the only one who didn't work there. So he just got my wallet out of my bag and looked."

Josh's fists were clenched at his sides, but Donna seemed to be OK.

"In fact, that was how I got started talking to Fred," she said. "After that."

There were a million things going through Josh's mind. How much he wanted to kill that bastard if he lived, how proud he was of Donna for coming through this, how much he wanted to tell her that he loved her and that he would make sure she never had to worry again. Whoa. OK. Gotta get that under control. He taped the new bandage in place and cleared his throat.

"OK, you're done. Eat your bagel," he said as he squeezed her elbow lightly before stepping away from her. "I'm gonna take a shower." The doorbell rang. "Right after I answer the door."

Donna laughed. "I'm gonna grab the hairdryer from the bathroom," she said and headed off in that direction.

Josh was a little lost in thought as he headed to the door of his apartment. There weren't many people who called her Donnatella Moss. He was one of them. He'd sort of turned it into a term of endearment over the years. He probably shouldn't do that for a while. Still, she'd handled that well. Her coping skills were improving. He'd have to tell Stanley that when he saw him. Oh, crap, he still needed to find a way to tell Donna about Stanley. He opened the door without looking through the peephole.

Stanley stood in the hallway, the picture of serenity, as usual.

"Hey, Josh."

Josh's eyes went wide. He hadn't told Donna. He was gonna have to
figure something out fast.

At that moment, he heard the bathroom door open again and spun to see Donna stepping back out into the hall. He turned back to Stanley and then back to Donna, who hadn't yet noticed the visitor. Caught in a terrible position, Josh did the only thing he could think to do on such short notice.

He slammed the door in Stanley's face.

"Who was that?" Donna asked when she heard the door slam.

"Nobody. Nothing."

"There was nobody at the door?"

"No."

"Nobody rang the bell?"

"No. Well, someone did but it was...no one we know. It was Girl Scouts. I guess it's cookie time again." Oh, God, that was terrible. He was not deserving to work for the leader of the free world.

"Girl Scouts? At 8 o'clock in the morning?" Donna asked.

"Yeah." No. CJ was right. He really was stupid.

"Did you get any cookies?" she asked with a gleam in her eye.

"No."

Donna pouted. "Why not?"

"Because it's 8 o'clock in the morning, Donna!" Yeah. That makes sense.

"Well, we don't have to eat them right now, Mr. Nutrition," she chided.

And then it happened. Stanley rang the damn doorbell again.

I'm just gonna kill him. No ifs, ands or buts. Kill him dead right there in my hallway.

"Why are they back? Josh! Were you mean to them?"

"I was not!"

"You were, weren't you? They're little kids, Josh. And now their troop leader's come up here to kick your ass and I'm gonna have to smooth it over—"

"You think a 45-year-old Girl Scout could kick my ass?" Josh was incredulous.

"Depending on certain mitigating circumstances—"

"Just go get dressed, would you? I'm gonna apologize," he said, turning her back toward the bedroom.

"You're gonna apologize?"

"Yes."

"NOT make it worse."

"No, Donna."

She backed toward the bedroom slowly, eyeing him the whole way. Just as she was closing the bedroom door, Stanley started to knock.

Josh jerked open the door. "What?!?" Somehow it was a whisper and a shout all at the same time.

"How ya doin'?" Stanley asked him pointedly.

"Not at all well! I didn't tell Donna you were coming yet and I didn't want her to be surprised with it," he said as he stepped out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him.

"Uh huh. I'm not there yet. Can we back up a little bit first?"

"To what part?"

To the part where it's 8 a.m. and your secretary is in—"

"Assistant," Josh corrected automatically.

"Your assistant is in your apartment in a bathrobe?"

Josh swallowed hard. He'd been so worried about hiding Stanley he hadn't even considered if maybe there were some things he should be hiding from Stanley. "It's not what it looks li—"

A genuine smile spread across Stanley's face. "Are you and Donna dating, Josh? I'm not gonna give you a hard time if you are, it's just that it might be helpful for me to know that when I'm talking to her. You know it doesn't go beyond me."

"No!" Josh protested a little loudly. But if you get a free minute while you're here, I'd like to talk to you about the fact that I've fallen in love with my assistant. "She's been afraid to go back to her apartment. Says the guy saw her license and knew where she lived."

"I thought they were all in custody, or de—"

"They are," Josh nodded. "Reason Number One we thought she could use a visit from you."

"Well, I came, but when I got here, this former patient of mine slammed the door in my face. Now he won't let me inside, and—"

"I haven't told her yet," Josh said apologetically. "I didn't know how to."

"Well," Stanley unwound his scarf from his neck. "She's about to find out."

"What are you doing here, anyway? I figured we'd meet at the White House."

"I talked to Leo when I got in last night. He doesn't want either of you coming in today," Stanley said.

"He tell you about the thing yesterday in my office?"

"Yeah," Stanley said. "She did it that night when you saw her at the hospital, too?"

"Nowhere near as bad," Josh said. "But yeah, she wasn't really...completely aware for a few minutes."

"Any nightmares yet?"

"Not that I can tell."

"They'll come. You know that much," Stanley said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Josh said knowingly.

"How are you doing?" Stanley asked.

Before Josh had a chance to answer, Donna jerked the door open. Her
face went from curiosity to recognition to momentary delight at seeing Stanley again to an unreadable expression.

"Hey, Donna," Stanley said, unflappable.

"Hey, Stanley," Donna gave a fake smile. "We'll take a box of thin mints and a box of shortbread." She then turned on her heel and started back into the apartment, but not before firmly smacking Josh on the back of the head.

"Ow! Geez, Donna!"

"Don't lie to me," she said flatly as she headed back toward the living area.

"Okay," Josh started mentally backpedaling as fast as he could. For some reason he couldn't bear the thought of her being mad at him. And not just because when she was mad at him, she could make his life a living hell. "Okay, just let me explain for a second, all right? I was gonna tell you last night, but I was waiting for the right time, and then we fell asleep and then I didn't know he was coming here, and—"

"Leo got a little worried yesterday and asked me to stop by and talk with you," Stanley interrupted.

Donna looked from Josh to Stanley to Josh again. "That's fine."

"Good," Stanley said. "How's the shoulder?" Donna had dressed in jeans and a pink crewneck sweater. The bandage barely peeked out from under the collar.

"It's sore," Donna said, reaching up to finger the edge of the bandage. "But I'll live." She smiled a little ruefully.

"Yeah," Stanley nodded. "So...do you wanna talk now, or a little later today...I don't know what your plans are." In truth, he didn't care what her plans were. This is what she was doing today. But he wanted to see if she'd try to put it off.

"Actually, now would probably be best. I've got to be at the police station to give my statement at 1, so..."

"The hell you are!" Josh found his voice for the first time in several minutes.

Donna looked at him. "Excuse me?"

Oh, crap. She IS mad about Stanley. She's gonna make me pay for it later. "Donna, those were the plans before, but after yesterday...I'm not sure if you're ready to—"

Donna took several steps toward him. "Yesterday doesn't change anything, Josh. If I wait too long to do this they won't admit my statement, and I don't want that to happen."

"I don't want that to happen either, Donna, but I also don't want you to make yourself worse by pushing yourself too—" A loudly cleared throat stopped the exchange.

"Here's something interesting," Stanley started. "As it turns out, I'm a traumatologist."

The both stared at him blankly. Stanley laid a hand on his chest. "Stanley Keyworth," he said. "I work for ATVA."
 
Donna turned toward him, bouncing off the joke and into more serious
territory. "Do you think I'm traumatized?"

Josh looked at her like she was insane. Stanley, because of years of training, didn't change his expression at all. "You were involved less than 48 hours ago in a bank robbery that ended in a fatal shootout. You were hit by a bullet yourself. I think there are a few things we can talk about."

Donna seemed to consider that for a minute. "I am going to give my statement today."

"I'm not saying you can't. Let's just talk about what happened first and then we'll see about whether giving the statement today would be best."

Donna nodded, satisfied. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," Stanley accepted.

Donna returned moments later with three cups of coffee. Three. The third was a message. She forgave Josh for not telling her. Josh stared into the cup like he could see the future at the bottom.

"Josh," Stanley said. He and Donna had already settled down in the den. "It's cold and miserable outside, and I think it might rain later. Why don't you go for a walk?"

Josh looked at Donna and thought his heart would burst. She was avoiding his eyes a little. She forgave him, but she wasn't ready to admit it freely yet. "Yeah, OK," he said finally. He wished he could be there for what she was about to have to go through. But she had Stanley. Stanley was as sharp as they came. And some parts of the journey back, he'd learned himself, had to be traveled alone.

He threw his coat on and muttered something about having his cell. He pulled the door shut, plunging the apartment into total silence.

"Drop by? From San Francisco? You were just in the neighborhood?" Her cheeks were burning.

"Why did you go to the bank Friday, Donna?" Stanley asked.

***************

Josh killed nearly an hour at a coffee shop around the corner from his apartment. First, he'd called Leo to "thank" him for sending Stanley by unannounced. Leo was so amused at the idea of Josh in the hot seat with both Stanley and Donna that he literally sounded like he was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

Then Josh picked up The Post. The bank had made the front page. Below the fold, but still the front page. Yesterday, when it was breaking news and just another bank robbery, it had been the banner headline on the Local section. But today, with what CJ and the others had come to call "the Donna angle," the follow-up had made the front page.

The main story was about Fred. The retired cop who gave his life working as a security guard for the bank. Donna had her own sidebar. They couldn't do much more than that if Donna wouldn't grant an interview. "White House Employee Shot in Robbery Attempt," read the headline. There was a "mug shot" of Donna, the term newspaper and communications personnel used for small head-and-shoulders pictures
they sometimes ran with stories. This had been cropped from a photo with other people in it, Josh could tell, but he couldn't tell where it had been taken or remember exactly when. It was when she was keeping her hair longer. She smiled brilliantly at the camera. Josh always found pictures like this, taken during presumably happier times but run with a tragic or scandalous story about the person, to be somewhat ironic. This one made his heart hurt a little. He wondered how long it would be before he'd see her smile like that again.

The story was pretty basic. Basic biographical information about Donna, that she'd joined up with the first Bartlet for America campaign and had worked the entire administration as senior assistant to Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman, who, four years ago had been nearly killed at the Newseum in Rosslyn when the President's entourage was fired upon. Josh shook his head. No matter what else he did from here on out, what political feats he accomplished, what massive mistakes he made, he'd always have as a footnote to his name "the guy who nearly died at Rosslyn."

The story went on to say that she wasn't seriously injured and that her White House connections apparently did not come into play during the incident. That's what they think. Yesterday, with all its scary moments, tension and revelations was still dangerously fresh in his mind.

What else...the President issued a statement yesterday thanking all of the police and emergency workers who were on-hand to help with the incident and prevented any further loss of life. At this time, reports are not available as to whether the bullets that wounded Ms. Moss or killed Mr. Garfield were fired from the perpetrators' guns or that of the S.W.A.T. team. Josh sighed loudly. It wasn't that the thought of Fred or Donna being hit by friendly fire didn't bother or even anger him. It's that, had it not been for the robbers, there wouldn't have been a need for an exchange of gunfire in the first place. This was gonna last a few days.

The story on Fred was poignant and well-written. They interviewed his grief-stricken wife and grown children. Bastards. Fred and Josh would never meet, but Josh felt like he owed this man a tremendous debt he could never repay. A public memorial was scheduled for Monday. Fred Garfield had apparently led a life of public service and was also a veteran. He would be buried at Arlington.

When Josh returned, he stuck the key in the lock and opened the door cautiously.

Donna and Stanley were seated in the same positions they were in when he'd left. They were still talking lowly, but the conversation had obviously been winding down. Donna's eyes were red-rimmed and she looked tired, but...there it was again. That thing he'd seen in his office yesterday when she'd put her ID badge back on. It wasn't strength, exactly. This time it looked more like...determination.

She looked up and waved him into the apartment, making an excuse about getting ready before disappearing into the bedroom.

Stanley, forever immutable, remained perfectly still. Josh walked around and stood in front of him. "Well?"

Stanley raised his eyebrows at Josh.

Josh opened his arms in a "give-it-to-me" gesture. "First impressions?"

Stanley cleared his throat softly. "As you know, I am very limited as to what I can discuss with you—"

"Please." It was a command, not a plea.

"She has some things to work through," Stanley said neutrally. "She's still not consciously accepting what happened to her. She's aware of it on an intellectual basis, of course, but she's short-circuiting a bit when it comes to the emotions involved. They're so strong that they overwhelm her."

"Does she...I don't know how to, you know...could this be—"

"Are you trying to ask me if she has PTSD?"

Well, jump right in, Stanley. The water's warm. "Yeah."

Stanley smiled a little — a knowing smile. "It takes time to develop PTSD, Josh. Time she hasn't had. There's really not a simple term to assign to it. What I can say is that she's been severely emotionally traumatized. But I need to dig deeper before I know exactly what's going on in her head. We really just had time to skim the surface."

Josh considered this for a moment. "You said you had me diagnosed in five minutes."

Stanley's mouth quirked up at the corners. "Donna's brain is considerably more complex than yours."

"Well, I could've told you that," Josh said with a wry smile. "So, where do we start? What can we do for her?"

"Same place I start with most of my trauma patients. Same place I started with you. Get her to talk about the incident without reliving it."

For a moment, Josh flashed on the first conversation he'd ever had with Stanley, that Christmas Eve several years ago. "OK," he said after a moment. "You can do that for her, right?"

"First of all, I don't do anything but serve as a guide along the way. The patient does most of the work," Stanley said. "Second, yes I can help her do that, but I think we can actually kill two birds with one stone here."

"What do you mean?"

"After we get her to the point that she can talk about it, and after we get her to face some truths about what happened to her, she's gonna feel...well, pretty bad about the whole thing," Stanley said. "The really unnerving thing about this whole incident, something she hasn't yet had time to analyze or process, is that it was completely random. It happened to her completely by chance. It was totally unavoidable. It could have happened to anyone, at any time, and, even more frightening, it could happen again."

Josh's eyes went wide. "It c-could happen again?"

"Josh," Stanley chided him gently. "It could happen to any one of us, at any time. Violent crimes that weren't directed specifically at the victim, like this incident, like what you lived through...those can leave lasting impressions of futility and fear on survivors," Stanley said. Josh nodded mutely.

"When that happens, and it will with Donna, same as it did with you, you need to do something to feel a little empowered, to feel not so helpless."

Josh saw where he was leading. "Stanley—"

"I think she should give the statement, Josh. Getting her to the point that she can talk about it more easily is a long-term goal, and by that time it will be too late. She desperately wants to do something. In reality, you and I know that with the statements of the other victims, hers is really just another drop in the bucket. But it will help her feel like she's done something to right herself, and to honor this guy's memory, the security guard who was killed. And it has the added bonus of being exactly what she needs to do: talk about the incident without talking about the emotions involved."

"I don't think she's up for it, though," Josh said, voice barely above a whisper.

Stanley cocked his head a little. The deep emotions running through Josh were not lost on him. "She'll never be ready for this part, Josh. This part is never gonna be easy for her. But she needs to do it. She won't start to heal, at least not properly, until she does. She can do it privately with me or another counselor, but that won't do any good as far as counting toward her statement. I can sit in on her statement, Josh. I've done it many times, in similar instances. The detective will need to be the one asking the questions, but I can keep her grounded and hopefully steer her away from any emotional sinkholes. We do this all the time at ATVA, Josh. I'll sit in with her while she gives the statement, I'll coordinate with the detective beforehand. I think she should keep the appointment."

Josh closed his eyes, fighting hard against the emotions begging to be let out. "And you told her as much?"

"I did."

Josh exhaled slowly. "OK." He held his hands out, indicating he was giving up the fight. "If this is what you think is best for her, OK."

"You're much more agreeable than you used to be," Stanley said.

"You consider that agreeable?"

"No, I'm not saying you're anywhere near tolerable, I'm just saying you're better than you used to be," Stanley smiled.

"You make my blood pressure go sky high, you know that?"

"Yes, I do."

"Listen, speaking of the security guard, she wants to go to the memorial service," Josh said, getting serious again. "There's a public graveside tomorrow at Arlington."

Stanley looked to the side for a moment, obviously thinking. "Let's play it by ear," he said. "But if she's asking to go, I'd lean toward letting her. Not alone, of course. Might help her get some closure on the loss of this guy. It sounds like they formed quite the bond in just a few hours."