He'd been working on his laptop in her living room when he'd heard the gunfire, loud and close, and seemingly neverending. Donna screamed in the next room, so shrill and terror-filled that Josh felt it in his bones.

He flew to her bedroom door and turned the knob, but was unable to get the door open, even leaning into it with all his weight. He yelled her name through the door, but his only reply was continued gunfire and screaming. After an eternity of a few seconds, the gunfire ceased, being replaced by a chorus of sirens.

He slammed his body into the door for what seemed like the umpteenth time and it finally fell open.

The room looked like it was made of Swiss cheese...holes everywhere, the walls, the windows, the ceiling, the floor. A blinding light poured into the room through the holes, and Josh squinted, shielding his eyes from the assault that was coming at them from every conceivable angle.

He called her name twice, but got no response, at least, none that he could hear above the sirens. When he rounded the end of the bed he saw her there, in the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, trying to curl into a ball. He knelt down beside her just as she was about to rock forward toward the floor.

"Donna?" he had to shout to hear even himself over the noise. He caught her, kept her from spilling forward, and tilted her face so he could see it. She wore an expression of shock and pain, not reaching for him when she saw him or even bothering to support her own weight. "Are you alright?" he yelled by her ear.

She fell back against the side of the bed, looking dazed, and shook her head, very, very slowly, to indicate that she was not. Her eyes flicked down toward her stomach, and Josh followed her gaze.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around her, and she was bleeding profusely, obviously shot several times in the torso. He let out a strangled cry before he was able to make himself move again. "It's OK," he said, reaching up to the bed and jerking a pillowcase off one of the pillows. "It's OK, Donna." He wondered if his attempts at reassurance sounded as hollow to her ears as they did to his. He pried her arms off of her torso for long enough to press the pillowcase in place, nearly blacking out when he saw the full extent of the damage. He laid her down on the floor and pressed down firmly, causing her to cry out.

"I'm sorry, Donna," he said, leaning over her face. "I've got to stop the bleeding. I've got to. I'm sorry."

"Hurts," she choked out.

"I know," he said, watching as a tear he didn't know he'd shed dropped onto her cheek. "It's OK. I'm gonna get somebody. I'm gonna take care of everything."

He leaned the weight of his torso on her wounds and reached up to the phone on the nightstand, but it fell apart in his hands when he did, having been shot through several times. "Shit," he was beyond hysterical at this point. "I'll be right back," he said. "I've gotta get my cell so I can call."

Donna eyes went wide and she grabbed onto his sleeves, tangling her bloody fingers in the material. "No."

"Donna, I've got to get you some help. I'll be right back. I swear I'll be right back but I've got to get to a phone." He pulled away from her. She didn't have the strength to keep him in place anyway.

He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and was rushing back to her side almost instantly, trying to dial. The phone slipped out of his hand when he found her eyes closed and her arms limp on the floor.

"Donna!" he said loudly into her ear. "Donna, stay awake!" He shook her as hard as he dared, and got no response. He finally had the presence of mind to press two fingers to her neck, trying to feel anything other than the rapid pumping of his own blood through his veins. He pressed deeply into her neck, but unable to be sure that he wasn't feeling his own pulse, laid a hand flat over her heart, bending his ear to her mouth to listen for her breathing.

He waited. And waited. And felt nothing. And then his own heart seemed to stop with a final dull thud.

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

He jerked awake, causing the file he'd been reading when he drifted off to fall to the floor. "God," he whispered, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He ground the balls of his hands into his eyes while he willed his breathing and heart rate to slow.

He leaned back, scrubbing his face with slightly trembling hands. What the hell was that? One hand came to rest flat on his chest and he looked up at the ceiling for a minute, breathing in and out with the ticking of his watch. The exercise worked as always, and he felt his heart begin to return to a more normal rhythm. He checked the time, reached over and picked the file up, dropped it on the coffee table and stood slowly, padding into Donna's bedroom quietly.

She was curled up on her left side, sleeping soundly, propped up with the extra pillows she normally took off the bed when she went to sleep for the night. Seeing her did a lot to banish the nightmare image he had of her. He didn't want to wake her, but he couldn't help himself. He sat down on the empty side of the bed, his side, he realized he thought of it as already, the left side, and reached across, brushing his fingertips across her forehead with the pretense of brushing her hair out of her eyes, then across her cheek, with no real pretense whatsoever.

She stirred slightly at the touch and he withdrew his hand, not wanting to wake her, but pulled his feet onto the bed and rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand beside her.

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

She woke herself when her breath caught in her chest and she coughed softly. She rolled her face into her pillow and then turned it toward the ceiling, rubbing her eyes. It wasn't until she opened them that she realized she wasn't alone.

"Hey." Her voice was a little hoarse. She couldn't tell yet whether it was from being asleep or from this thing she'd caught.

"Hey." He was on his right side facing her, head leaning on his bent right arm, soft smile on his face.

She squished her face at him in confusion. "Whatcha doing, Josh?"

"Nothin'," he said, eyes getting wide. A sure sign he was doing something.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Were you just lying there watching me sleep?"

She could see his brain working behind his eyes for a moment before he realized he didn't have a good alternative answer. "Kinda."

"Kinda," she repeated. He nodded. "How long have you been kinda watching me sleep?"

"Don't know," he lifted his left arm and looked at his watch, clearly surprised at how much time had passed. "A little while now, I guess."

Donna looked at her own watch and groaned. "I thought you were gonna do some work."

"I did."

"You did some work and then decided you'd come in here and watch me sleep?" Donna said around a yawn. "That's so…okay, I was gonna try and make it sweet but it's a little…I don't know...clingy, Josh."

"It is not," he said, his voice clearly betraying his lack of interest in denying it. "I am not a clingy person."

"Overbearing, then?"

"I may be overbearing," Josh said. "But not in this particular incident."

Donna's lips spread into a sleepy smile. "Freakish?"

He tilted forward and dropped a kiss on her cheek near her nose. "Absolutely," he whispered before leaning back.

She gave him a full wattage smile, even though her weak eyes betrayed that she was still at least partly in the sleeping world. "How much work did you do?"

"I think I got to page 2 of the Welfare to Work report," He said, dropping his head off of his hand and rolling onto his back. Remind me of it next time I can't get to sleep. It's like a natural sedative."

"You slept?"

"For a little while, I think," his voice grew more distant.

"In here?"

"On the couch."

She rolled onto her left side, and propped her head up, mirroring his position from moments ago. "You shouldn't sleep on the couch," she said. "You pay for it later."

"I know," he said softly, staring at the ceiling. Donna could tell his mind was elsewhere. He didn't fight her on the couch thing, denying that it bothered him or complaining that he's not an 80-year-old man.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered.

He jerked his eyes back toward hers. "Nothing."

"Uh huh."

"Nothing, Donna." He let his eyes slide closed, feigning disinterest in the conversation. That ratcheted her concern up even further. Trying to throw her off the track was never a good sign.

"Did something happen while I was asleep?"

"No, worrywart."

"You didn't find out we'd lost some Senators on Charlie's teachers or… did something come up in the Welfare to Work report? Something that we hadn't—"

"No, Donna."

"Then what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

The pieces started sliding together for her. "I wake up and you're in here watching me sleep, and—"

"I like watching you sleep," he said with his eyes closed. "I like watching do you most anything." He opened one eye and gave her a dimpled smirk.

"And now you're pulling out the charm," she said. "Trying to distract me." She reached down and laid the tip of her index finger in one of his dimples. "But I can assure you, clever man, that while I enjoy the charm, I will not be distracted."

He tilted his head to the side and kissed her fingertip. "It's not a big deal. I had a thing when I fell asleep on the couch. A little one."

Donna's brow furrowed in concern. "A nightmare?"

Josh looked back up at the ceiling and shrugged. "Little bit."

She burrowed a little deeper into the mattress. "About Rosslyn?"

Josh shook his head as he continued to stare at the ceiling.

"About the bank?"

"Not really," he said, sounding small.

She reached forward and tilted his chin toward her. "About me."

He watched her for a second, blinked once, then turned back to the ceiling without confirming her suspicions.

"Well, that's all we need, is to get you started," she said quietly, leaning forward and turning his face back toward hers so she could kiss him gently. "Are you OK?"

"Of course I'm OK," he said. "It was a just a dream."

"I'm learning that there's really no 'just' about the kind of dreams you have after something like this," Donna said. "I shouldn't have gone through all the details from the bank. Those were images you didn't need."

"They were images you didn't need either," he said thoughtfully.

Donna shook her head, the anger at herself beginning to build. "All this talk about whether or not I was ready, and I never once asked you if you were ready to go down there, did I?"

Josh drew a hand across his eyes. "I can't believe I'm actually going to say this. There are some things in this world, Donna, that do not revolve around me."

Donna let her jaw drop open in mock surprise. "Now I know you're not alright."

"Hilarious," he deadpanned. He reached up and ran a finger from the bridge to the tip of her nose. "Do not apologize for doing what you need to do."

"Even if it ends up causing you—"

"We're not gonna get into speculation about what caused it, Donna," he said. "I'm serious," he cut her off again when she tried to protest. "We have way more than enough to analyze these days without adding that to the list."

Donna watched him closely for a long moment. "And you don't need anything?"

His expression softened and he drew her closer, kissing her gently, then settling her on his chest and cradling her head under his chin. "I just need you. Safe and sound. I just need you."

Donna let her fingers skim lightly across his chest. "Well, you're in luck," she said softly. "It just so happens I have some me in stock."

He laughed silently into her hair, then planted a kiss on the top of her head, holding her tightly.

Silence stretched between them until Donna began to feel a little smothered by the emotional weight of the moment. "Is it possible I fell asleep while we were—"

"Yes, you did." She felt him nod against the top of her head. "And it was no small blow to my ego, either. I'm scarred for life."

"Please."

"I'll never be the same. My confidence is forever shaken."

"Josh."

"In fact, I think that's probably what caused the nightmare."

She turned in his arms and planted a slightly less than chaste kiss on his mouth. "I'm sorry. It wasn't you. It was the drugs."

"You and your habit." He pretended to be considering something. "Oh, all right. You're forgiven."

"Thank you." She wanted to demonstrate how sorry she was, exercise their right to invoke Rule Number One some more. But exhaustion was making her vision bleary, and she could feel the familiar ache in her bones. She laid her head back down on his chest. "Josh?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I'm sick." A sneeze made itself known at that moment to drive the point home.

"Reeeally?" Josh said in mock astonishment. "That's almost unfathomable, Donna."

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

Josh went home to get a suit for the next day and brought back a sandwich to eat while Donna ate her prescribed chicken soup. She sat propped against the headboard while Josh leaned on a pillow wedged between his back and the footboard while they watched CNN on the tiny set in her bedroom.

"There are some people who shouldn't be allowed to hold public office," Josh said.

"You say that every time you see Morton on TV," Donna said, pulling one of Josh's feet into her lap without much thought and beginning to knead it gently with her fingertips.

"It's true," Josh said as he scrolled through his unanswered e-mail and opened another message. "Morton the Moron. Every time he opens his mouth I have less and less faith in the American people, seeing that they would elect an idiot like that to federal office. "Actually, I guess it's just the people of Minnesota."

"I'll get a memo out first thing in the morning, letting them know that you're displeased," Donna said, still working on his foot. "The suicide rate in the state will probably skyrocket."

Josh snorted, but then let his laptop slide off his legs as he let his head fall back on the pillow. "Wow, are you good at that."

Donna froze and looked away from the TV screen. "What?"

"That," Josh said, wiggling his foot so that it hit her hands. "That foot massage thing you were doing. Keep doing it."

Donna looked down, only then fully realizing how she'd been passing the time. "Oh," she laid both her hands on his foot as she scooted back so she was deeper in the pillows. "I was just…my hands were looking for something to do I guess."

"Well, that's fine with me," Josh said, wiggling his foot in an attempt to get her to start again.

"No," Donna said.

Josh looked up. "No?"

"No. Now you've made me self-conscious about it," she said.

"All I said was that I liked it!"

"Exactly," she said. "I wasn't even thinking about it before. Now there's pressure."

"There's no pressure!" he nearly shouted. "There's no pressure at all! I just want you to keep doing it!"

"No," Donna said, folding her arms over her chest and pretending to be done with the idea. "I'm afraid I just can't take the stress."

Josh smiled. "You're sounding all nasal-y again." He moved his other foot to her lap. "At least do the other foot."

She studied him for a moment. "I don't know, Josh."

"Come on! You have to do the other foot!" he said. "Otherwise I'll be walking around all crooked. I'll be running into walls."

Donna laughed and picked up his other foot, concentrating intensely on her work. They were both silent for a moment. Josh lolled his head to the side and watched CNN. Donna looked at him for a moment before she finally ventured to ask her question.

"You don't think this is weird?"

Josh rolled his head back to the center to meet her eyes. "Don't think  what's weird?"

"This," Donna took one hand off his foot and motioned between the two of them. "Don't you think it should be a little more…I don't know. I've never felt this comfortable two days into a…which technically we're not even two days into anything. We're two days into tabling."

"What the hell are you babbling about?"

She leaned forward and crossed her legs beneath her. "Shouldn't we be…I don't know. A little nervous? A little uncomfortable? A little…a little something?"

"A little what?"

"I don't know," she pouted a little as she worked her thumb along the arch of his foot. "It's just not how I imagined it would be."

"You imagined how the tabling would be?"

"Not the tabling. Us. We're just…I didn't imagine we'd be…I mean don't you feel like we're acting like we're a bit…used to this, already?"

Josh furrowed his brow. "It's how I imagined it would be."

Donna stopped moving with that. "Really?"

"Sure." He shrugged like it was no big deal.

"This…comfortable?"

"Are you comfortable?"

She nodded. "Very."

"You don't seem to be," he shook his head. "You seem to think that we're supposed to be feeling uncomfortable right about now."

"Well…don't you think we should be?"

Josh put his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together. "Why would we feel the least bit uncomfortable with each other?"

"Because this is all new!" she said exasperatedly.

"What part of it? The part where we hang out together and enjoy each other's company? The part where you drag me to things I don't wanna go to and I end up having a decent time anyway? Or is it the part where we lean on each other when the going gets a little rough?"

Donna hugged her arms around his foot loosely. "The part where we spend the night in the same bed. The part where we've said…that we appreciate each other. The part where you can't seem to stop yourself from kissing me. That new part."

"I'm sorry, I need to back up," Josh leaned forward. "Who can't seem to stop themselves from kissing whom?"

Donna's eyes got wide. "We can't seem to stop ourselves. From each other."

"That's a little better," he leaned back into his pillow with a smug grin.

"That new part," Donna cued him again.

"I don't think we should be the least bit uncomfortable," he said. "We've known each other for all these years...and now all of a sudden we're supposed to act like we just met the other night? Donna, I'm not one of your gomers you picked up in a bar." Donna's face told him he'd strayed dangerously close to the line. "Or, you know, the library. Or out feeding the homeless and doing other good deeds. I know more about you than probably most people alive, and I know the same is true of what you know about me. I know we've got all the tabling and all the…you know, appreciation, but when I said it's how I thought it would be…I don't want to stop being what we've always been. I want us to figure out how to be us, only…more. Better. Saucier." He waggled his eyebrows at her with a little grin. Donna rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile.

"Anyway," he continued. "That's why I don't think we should feel uncomfortable. I…I don't think we're going to be a conventional…thing, Donna. At least, I don't think we're gonna have a conventional beginning. Conventional beginnings have never been our style."

Donna smiled and sank into the pillows further. "We always have sorta leaped first and figured out how to land on the way down, haven't we?"

Josh nodded. "Why should this be any different? It's worked for us so well in the past."

"And if it ain't broke…" Donna nodded, then seemed lost in thought for a minute. "I agree," she said finally. "We can't really judge this by any traditional yardstick. The timeline's all skewed."

"I mean, we're taking it slow," Josh picked up. "In fact, technically, we're almost at a standstill. That is the nature of the tabling."

"But at the same time, we both kinda know that once the tabling goes away, we're gonna skip a lot of the beginning parts," Donna said.

"Not skip," Josh said. "Skip implies that there's something missing. We're unconventional."

"Eccentric," Donna said.

"Fine."

"So…what the hell was I worried about again?"

"This is what I've been saying!" Josh spread his hands.

Donna dropped his foot off of her lap onto the mattress. "I'm done with the other foot now."

"Thank you," Josh stretched his arms over his head. "You could teach classes in that."

"I didn't say I was done with you, just your feet," she said, crooking a finger at him. "Come here."

Josh grinned so wide his entire cheeks seemed to fall into his dimples as he crawled up Donna's legs. "How can I help you?"

Donna grabbed the sides of his head and sucked his lower lip between her teeth, teasing it with her tongue as she drew back slowly. "So polite," she said. She flipped them both in an instant so Josh was the one reclining against all the pillows.

"You're obviously feeling better," Josh mused.

"I've got a second wind," she said as she threw one knee over his legs to straddle them.

"Donna," his eyes got wide. "The Rules..."

"Oh, Josh don't be such a heavy," she growled in his ear. "We're not gonna break the Rules."

He was tense beneath her as she drew his earlobe between her teeth. "But this is the kind of behavior that could easily...uh..." He closed his eyes and willed himself to concentrate. "One thing could easily lead to another, and—"

She silenced him by covering his mouth with hers and giving his tongue something better to do.

"And besides," she said breathlessly when she pulled back, well aware of his own panting against her face. "I told you I wasn't finished with you just yet."

She leaned against his chest as she kissed him again, and began using her hands to knead the muscles in his biceps and shoulders.

He tore his mouth from hers eventually, after a deep moan got the better of him. "Why, Miss Moss," he said, voice gravelly like it had been that morning, "I didn't realize this was that kind of massage."

Donna giggled, but that quickly turned to a moan when he planted a hot open-mouthed kiss on her neck.

"And don't think..." he said as he worked his way down her collarbone toward her throat, "That I didn't notice...that this little strappy shirt...made an appearance again tonight."

"I could have a fever," she said innocently.

"Which would make you have chills, not hot spells," he said against her sternum. "But I will say that this shirt is steadily gaining on the cashmere." He kissed his way lower and Donna tangled her fingers in his hair, crushing him toward her.

After a few minutes, she slowly leaned back, and he followed her as they folded themselves over, leaving her flat on the mattress with him over her. Her hands dipped under his shirt and her fingers ran up his sides, dancing over his ribs. He kissed her hungrily and mirrored her actions, sliding his thumbs up her stomach while his fingers left whispers of touches up her sides. She arched into him and he settled on top of her gently, his chest brushing hers, his hips pushing into hers, legs tangling further with hers, mouths never breaking apart for more than half a second. Unable to fight the impulses pushing at him from all directions, he slid his fingers up a little higher and let his thumbs barely brush the sides of her breasts, the mere ghost of actual contact. She gasped loudly into his mouth and he did it again, no firmer the second time than the first, and broke the kiss with a broad grin when she moaned and arched herself even further into him.

"Do you have any idea..." he said as he kissed his way down her neck, "How much I want to—"

"Some idea, yes," she said into his hair.

"I don't think you do," he said. "I don't think you can fully understand how badly I want to chop the table up and use it as kindling in your fireplace."

The arching had turned into almost all-out writhing. "I don't have a fireplace," she panted. "And I fully understand, if for no other reason than that you're lying on top of me at the moment."

He laughed softly against shoulder. "Noticed, did you?"

She shrugged, an impish quality becoming more and more visible in her face as she stared at the ceiling. "It would be hard not to."

"Dammit, Donna, what are you trying to do to me, here?"

She rolled them again, so she was on top once more, and she heard the tiny hiss Josh couldn't keep hidden when she did so.

"I'm proving a point," she said, eyes dancing as she settled back on top of him, making sure to apply pressure in all the right places.

"Donna," he said through a clenched jaw. "If we're gonna keep the table in place we're gonna have to stop this pretty soon."

She leaned a little further into him, pretending not to understand. "Are you saying you don't think you can keep yourself from—"

"You know exactly what I'm saying," he ground out, hands roaming on top of her clothes with a newfound bravery. "So if you care at all about the...wait a minute, what do you mean you're proving a point?"

She smiled brilliantly and leaned over his face, putting her hands on either side of his head to hold herself up. She dropped a gentle kiss on his lips before she whispered, "Who's the weak one now, Josh?"

His eyes went wide. "You mean you did all that just to get me back for the teasing?"

She shook her head. "No, I did all that because I thought I'd enjoy it. And I did. But it had the added perk of getting you back for the teasing." She kissed the tip of his nose. "We're both weak, so stop with your high and mighty I-am-so-above-temptation act." She swung one leg back over him to meet the other but he surprised her, leaping off of his back and tackling her, pushing them both back to the head of the bed and into the pillows. He tickled her relentlessly, causing her to scream, squeal and giggle. She'd get in an occasional pinch or tickle herself, causing him to yelp, until ten minutes later they had to call a truce because they were both too tired to move anymore.

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

They'd been asleep for several hours when Donna shot straight up in bed, gasping loudly for air. In a panic, she rolled for the edge of the bed, but Josh was already awake, and caught her around the shoulders from behind.

"It's OK," he said by her ear. "It's OK."

If anything, the touch seemed to send her over the edge. She tore herself from his grasp and poured herself over the side of the bed to the floor. She twisted around enough to get herself oriented, then scrambled backward until she hit the wall, still gulping air, but never seeming to find any reprieve.

"Donna?" Josh crawled off the bed after her, squinting to see her in the dim glow of the nightlight. For a second he was concerned she may actually be having trouble breathing, that her chest congestion had been worse than either of them had thought. "Talk to me, OK?"

She pretty much squashed any fears that the congestion was the cause of her difficulties when she inhaled loudly and clamped her lips together, holding the breath, straightening her spine against the wall and slamming her eyes shut, tears rolling down her cheeks from under her lids.

She released the breath eventually because she had to, but repeated the action immediately, and Josh placed both his hands on her knees in an attempt to offer comfort.

He tried to stay silent as she fought a battle he couldn't help her with, but his heart broke for her. He studied her, noticed how her right hand was clamped tightly over her left shoulder. Her left hand was hugged to her chest. His throat constricted a little with dread. Apparently her subconscious had come up with a brand new nightmare.

She let the second breath out and followed it with a small coughing fit, after which she slumped a little against the wall. He scooted a little closer to her. "Open your eyes," he said softly.

She complied after a second. They were clear and bright, her pupils large in the dim glow from the nightlight further down the wall. She latched onto his eyes and didn't let go. What struck him most was the exhaustion he could see. "Where are you?" he asked, forcing himself to move ahead with checking her emotional state.

She blinked tiredly and exhaled audibly. "It's over," she whispered. "I know."

He reached out and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. "What happened?"

"Nightmare."

"No kidding. I'm saying what happened?"

"I don't wanna—"

"Do we have to play this game every time?" he kept his tone soft, but his frustration was evident. "Are you honestly going to put us both through the same round-and-round every time when you know you've got to tell me anyway, you know that's what—"

"You didn't tell me," she shot back. "You were less than forthcoming this afternoon."

"I'm not the one with the thing right now!" he said. "When it was me, you made me talk about it." He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her knees and resting his chin on top of them. "When it was me, you...Donna, I want so badly to take care of you the way you took care of me. I want so badly to the kind of rock for you that you were for me. Why won't you let me do that?"

"It's not that," she said, reaching out and cupping one side of his face with her slightly trembling hand.

He turned his head and kissed her palm. "Then what?"

She let her head drop back against the wall and closed her eyes. She sighed loudly, but reached her hand out toward him blindly, beckoning him closer. He moved so his shoulder was against the wall and he was facing her side.

"I was bleeding," she whispered.

He swallowed the lump that instantly formed in his throat. "Yeah?"

"I was at the bank, and it was after the S.W.A.T. team, and I was on the floor, and my shoulder and my wrists, they were just...bleeding. They wouldn't stop. And I couldn't get up, and no one came to help me, and I just laid there, watching as the blood moved across the floor." Her voice shook a little on the last word.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, then shook it back and forth slowly. "There wouldn't have been bullet holes in the floor," she chided herself softly. "The reason they has to work on it was because there was blood on it."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Fred's blood," she said and dropped her forehead to her knees. "And the strong one. And Bernard. And maybe even a little of mine." Josh gathered her silently in his arms, pulling her head to his chest. "I wonder if he suffered."

"Fred?"

He felt her nod against his chest. "I wonder if he laid there bleeding, knowing what was happening to him, and by the time anyone came it was too late."

"I don't think so," Josh said in an attempt to be helpful. "Papers said the coroner thinks he died almost instantly."

He felt her breath hitch, but she was silent for a moment. She reached up and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. "Did you?"

"Did I what?" he asked, afraid he knew what she meant.

"Did you lie there...at Rosslyn, knowing what was happening and not knowing if help would come in time?"

He breathed out heavily, knowing he wouldn't be able to deflect the question. "It's hard to explain," he said. "I didn't...I had an intellectual awareness of it. A limited awareness anyway. I just remember at some point realizing I had a pain in my chest and looking down, seeing blood on my hands and realizing that I must have been shot. There wasn't really a lot of panic or...or even really an active understanding of what that meant. I just remember thinking that if I was shot, other people must be, too. I remember thinking about the President a lot, wondering if he was OK, but my mind would sort of wander every once in a while. I guess an injury like that doesn't do much for your concentration."

Donna snuggled a little closer to him and sniffled slightly.

"There are large pieces of it I still don't remember, even after all this time. I don't think I ever will remember it at this point and to be honest, that's fine with me. But no, I didn't lie there, wondering if this was it, or anything like that," he said, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back. "Maybe other people do, Donna. I don't know. But that wasn't the way it happened for me. And I honestly don't think that was the way it happened for Fred, either."

She nodded, but remained silent.

"And you," he said, threading his fingers through hers and lifting her wrist where she could see it, pushing the sleeve down past the healing cut, "are not bleeding anymore."

She stared at her wrist for a moment before her breath hitched again and her body was wracked with sobs. Josh tightened his grip on her, pulling her legs to him so that he was able to completely cradle her against his chest.

"God, I was just so scared," she wailed.

"I know," he cooed.

She buried her face in his chest. "I kept hoping it would all turn out all right." Josh nodded. "But then when he realized I worked at the White House, I thought that was it. There was no way I was gonna get out of that." She drew a ragged breath and he squeezed even tighter. "I  thought he was gonna kill me. When he didn't get what he wanted, I thought he was gonna kill me," she started to sob again. "And he could have."

"Donna, shh."

"God," she sobbed.

"Donna, we never would have let it get that far," he said firmly.

"You keep saying that," she squeaked. "But the thing is, you weren't the one in control of the situation, Josh. He had the control. The only reason I'm still here is because he didn't have enough time to realize that I wasn't going to be his ticket out of there."

"Don't think like that," he said loudly. "Donna, your still being here isn't an accident. You're meant to be here. You're meant to be right where you are. He wasn't the one in control either, and that's why things turned out the way they did."

She didn't speak for a moment, while the sobs continued to have their way with her.

"Donna," he cooed by her ear. "You're gonna hyperventilate if you don't calm down. Come on, deep breaths."

She managed to do as he asked, curling closer to him as her breathing began to slow. "I guess the bank wasn't such a good idea," she mumbled before coughing into his t-shirt.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Let's get you back to bed, OK?"

She nodded and they slowly worked their way back up to standing. He helped her slide under the covers, he wiped the old tears from her cheeks, and tucked Jack under her arm before getting in himself.

She molded immediately to his side, clutching him and Jack tightly in one big embrace. He smoothed her hair as he waited for her to drift off.

"I didn't want you to have be told that something had happened to me," she said sleepily. "I didn't want you to have to deal with that alone. Didn't know what you would have done if something had happened."

His heart caught in his chest. "Me either," he said finally, then he realized it wasn't entirely true. "Actually, I don't think I would have been around to worry about it," he said softly. "What happens to you, happens to us, Donna. We've always been a team, and that doesn't end when we clock out. What happens to you—"

"What happens to one of us," she corrected.

"Happens to both of us," Josh nodded.

"Happens to all of us," Donna said.

He looked down at her with a furrowed brow. "All?"

She picked Jack's floppy arm up off of Josh's stomach and waved it at him.

Josh couldn't help but laugh. "Ah. Sorry."

Donna settled down even closer to him. "We're kinda having a hard time lately, aren't we?" she said thoughtfully.

Josh nodded. "Maybe, but I'm not that worried."

"Why not?"

"Because that time we got shot everything turned out okay. So I have a feeling we're gonna be just fine."

Donna laid her palm flat over his heart, and allowed the rhythm to lull her back to sleep.

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

"Donna." She could hear his voice through a haze of sleep-induced confusion.

"Donna." She ought to answer. She knows that. She ought to answer and to tell him to stop bugging her. She felt like she'd been hit by a truck.

She felt him kiss the side of her face by her ear. "Hey, sleepyhead."

She couldn't help it. Her lips curled into a smile. "Ah, I see we're playing a little possum," Josh said. "People who play possum do not get coffee in bed."

She forced her eyes open at that and reached for the mug.

He laughed. "Sit up, Don."

She groaned at the unreasonable request, but forced herself into a sitting position anyway. It wasn't until she did so that she realized that it wasn't just any truck that she felt like she'd been hit by. It was a semi.

Josh sat down beside her while she coughed a little and rubbed her eyes. "You've got a few doses of the daytime stuff," he said, popping two pills through the silver backing of a card. "I'll get some more after work tonight."

She nodded mutely, only half-listening, and reached for the pills, swallowing them with the coffee.

"Head hurt?"

She nodded again. It always did after a cry like that. Although this one seemed to have at least some sinus pressure mixed in. Josh pulled a bottle of Advil out of his pocket and tapped two into her hand, replaced the cap and set the bottle on the nightstand.

"What time is it?" she croaked.

"6:45."

She groaned. "We are so late." She nudged him with her knees so that she could swing her legs over the side of the bed, but he stayed put. 

"We're not late," he said. "I'm on time." Donna noticed for the first time that he was fully dressed except for his jacket and tie. "Why don't you take a sick day?"

She shook her head. "I can make it."

"Of that I have no doubt," Josh said. "But Donna, you look like hell and you probably feel worse. You can take today, and you'll feel much better tomorrow, or you can come in today, and carry this thing around for two weeks. What's it gonna be?"

She looked at him for a minute. God, she loved the idea of staying in bed. "I can't," she said. "My boss is a slave driver. Also he seems to feel comfortable telling me I look like hell."

Josh leaned forward and dropped a light kiss on her lips. "I'll have a word with him."

"Will you bring me my work bag? It's on the door of the coat closet."

Josh brought her the bag and held it out. She dug her planner out, pulled the page for the day out of it and handed him his schedule. "Call me if there's anything you can't find."

"I'll be fine," he said, scanning the piece of paper.

"I'll talk to you in half an hour."

"No, you won't."

"What time is the thing today?" she asked softly.

"The arraignment?"

She nodded.

"Don't know," he said. "Depends on where it is on the docket and what's ahead of it. I'll tell CJ to call me when she's got word."

"And you'll call?" she asked. He looked down at her, at the apprehension in her eyes, and the worry painted across her face.

He bent at the waist and kissed her forehead. "I'll call," he whispered, then kissed her right eyelid. "I will call." Over to her left eyelid. "I'll call and when I do, it will be to tell you that I was right." He kissed her pink nose. "And that when I get home, we're gonna celebrate." He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "We will celebrate the right-ness of me, and the triumph of Donna Moss."

She grinned. "Stay home with me."

"I can't," he said. "Gotta go change the world. Gotta go make a difference in the lives of Americans. Gotta go pretend I can stand Republicans. And anyway, Monday's Sloppy Joe Day in the Mess."

She laughed. "Go away. I'll talk to you when you need your first file."

"No you won't," he said as he bent close to kiss her one more time. "Go back to sleep. I'll see you tonight."

"'Kay," she said, trailing her fingers down his chest as he leaned away. She listened as he closed her door behind him and snuggled back down into the pillows with Jack.

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

She was dozing lightly when her cell phone rang beside her. She squinted at the clock. 10:03. He'd made it longer than she thought.

She grabbed the phone and shut her eyes again, flipping it open and putting it to her ear. "Every file you need for your meetings today should be in the stack on the left corner of your desk."

There was a momentary silence. "I have a clock on the lefthand corner of my desk."

Donna opened her eyes. "Stanley?"

"Who else?" he said.

"Josh," she said. "He's been at work almost three hours and he hasn't called for help finding something yet. I'm beginning to wonder if he made it there alright."

Stanley chortled. "You're not at work?"

"I'm sick," she said, rolling over onto her back.

"What fun," Stanley said.

"It's just the crud," Donna said. "I'll be fine."

"Do you feel like talking? We can postpone our appointment until tomorrow."

Donna coughed a little to clear her throat. "No, it's fine. We can talk today."

Stanley leaned back in his chair. "How was your weekend?"

Donna smiled. Friday night had been the appreciation. Saturday night had been Valentine's Day. Sunday had been the waking up beside him and kissing him good morning, the foot massage and the...other fun things. "It was fine."

"How was New York?"

"Busy, but fun. I even managed to squeeze in some power shopping."

"Well, you know, good for you. I guess."

Donna laughed.

"Sorry. My wife would have been able to give you a more supportive response," he said.

"You should get her to coach you on the importance of shopping," Donna said. "It'll help you when you're dealing with your female patients."

"I'll have to do that," Stanley laughed. "Did you have any problems Friday? With the anniversary?"

"Not really," she said. "I was busy most of the day in New York, and then that night, Josh took me out to dinner as a celebration of...coming through it all, I guess."

Stanley smiled on the other end of the line. "That sounds nice."

"It was." She lost herself in thought for a moment, before becoming aware of the silence. "Anyway, I was mostly OK, just had one little...moment that night."

"What kind of moment?"

"It wasn't a big deal," Donna said. "We were walking back from dinner and a car backfired. I flashed on the bank and panicked a little bit." She felt sheepish telling him. "But I got over it pretty quickly," she added. "Josh was there, and he kinda talked me through it, and I realized what was happening. I think I did okay."

"It helps to have somebody who's been there," Stanley said. "Speaking of Josh...did you give any more thought to talking to him? About your feelings from Rosslyn?"

Donna smiled again, readjusting the pillows under her head and picking Jack up and setting him on her stomach facing her. "Yeah. I just decided...I told him. I just went ahead and told him Friday night."

"Dinner," Stanley surmised.

"Right after, yeah."

"And?"

And we appreciate each other. And we're doing some serious thinking. And he's a fantastic kisser. "And?"

"Are you glad you told him?"

"Oh! Yeah. I really am. You were right," she said.

"About what part?"

"That I should tell him," Donna said.

"He had a good reaction, I take it," Stanley said.

You have no idea. "Yeah, he took it pretty well."

Stanley paused. Something about her seemed a little different, but over the phone, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Well, score one for me, then."

Donna snorted, then followed it up with a sneeze. "I think this is a lot more than one for you."

"Maybe so. How's the progress with going back to your apartment?"

Donna smiled ear-to-ear and looked around the room. "Guess where I am right now."

Stanley's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Since when?"

"Friday night."

"How's it going?"

"Good. It feels good being back." There was a lilt in her voice.

"Have you been alright alone, or do you feel better with somebody?"

"Yes. And Yes. I...the first night, I thought I was staying alone, but Josh snuck around and stayed on the couch, in case I had another nightmare. I did, but it wasn't that bad. As soon as I woke up I knew it was a dream. But I was still glad to realize he was out there. Even if he did scare the bejesus out of me."

"Stumbled on him in the middle of the night?" Stanley guessed.

"Oh yeah."

"I gotta tell you, I never imagined Josh would be big on...being covert," Stanley said.

"He's not. Apparently I was just really tired," Donna yawned.

"Ah. I see. Is he still crashing on the couch?"

No. "Yeah, he's still staying. But the nightmares are less frequent. Last night not withstanding."

"What happened last night?"

"I...wait. I need to back up. It started with yesterday."

Stanley took a sip from his coffee mug. "What happened yesterday?"

Donna took a deep breath. "I went back to the bank."

Silence. "Really? How did it go?"

"It was hard. It was...it was hard, you know? But I was okay. I mean I came through it okay. That is, until last night," she said.

"You had another nightmare," Stanley guessed.

Donna nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "A pretty vivid one, yeah. I was pretty upset when I woke up."

"What was it about?"

She was silent for a moment. "I was at the bank. I was bleeding. I was dying," she said softly.

Stanley's silence stretched longer than hers. "Well, we're finally getting down to it now," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"You know how I told you we'd been dealing with leftover issues from Rosslyn? And that we hadn't really started to dig into what happened at the bank, not truly?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah. We're there."

"Yippee."

Stanley smiled. "Uh huh. Okay...let's back up for a minute. Why did you go to the bank yesterday?"

"It was stupid, I realize that now," she moaned. "But at the time...we were only a couple of blocks from the bank and I just...I felt strong enough to do it. I felt like I could face some part of this fear down, and move on. That's what I'm really tired of with this whole situation, is the fear. And afterward, I just felt spent, and numb, not...not like before. And then that night, well, we were really off to the races."

"You said you're really tired of the fear," Stanley said.

"Yeah."

"What are you afraid of, Donna?"

Donna shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't know most of the time. Sometimes it feels like I'm afraid of nothing. Of something that's in the past. Of a memory. And then sometimes it feels like I'm afraid of everything. Of every bad scenario I can imagine, and even ones I haven't. I'm just...afraid." She exhaled in a huff. "I didn't used to be that way."

"It was a scary thing," Stanley said. "And you had a very close call. I think it's perfectly normal to be scared, even after it's over. The idea of how much worse it could have been can be pretty intimidating."

"Yeah," she said, blinking rapidly in an attempt to dispel the tears that were threatening.

"I hear the ringleader's out of the hospital," Stanley said.

"He's out of ICU, he's been moved to the prison infirmary," Donna said. "Actually, he's due to be arraigned today. He and the other one, who's been sitting in jail since it happened."

"Is the arraignment a good thing?" Stanley asked, curious to hear what kind of response she'd give.

"It should be the start of one, anyway," Donna said, letting out a shaky breath. "But I'm nervous. We're entering a stage of this whole thing where everybody's gotta be extremely careful. I don't know what kind of lawyer he's got, for all I know it's a public defender, but if anyone slips up, even a little, and his lawyers catch onto it...he could get off."

"And that's one of the things you're afraid of," Stanley supplied.

"That's the major thing I'm afraid of," Donna said, a single tear escaping and rolling down her cheek. "He...they ought to pay for this, Stanley. They should be sent to prison and the key should be thrown away. They killed a man, they broke a whole slew of laws, and the idea that on some legal technicality, he might...might...He doesn't deserve to see the light of day again."

Stanley swiveled back and forth in his chair thoughtfully. They were really getting close the heart of the matter now. Her anger, her fear, her anxiety, all of them were coming to the surface.

"You're afraid of him getting off," Stanley said.

"Yeah."

"Are you afraid of him, Donna?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Donna sat straight up in bed. "Of course I'm afraid of him! I'm terrified of him! The guy told me he was gonna come here and...I couldn't even sleep here for a week. I mean, after everything he did, and he leaves me, me, not anybody else, with the special parting gift of, 'and oh, by the way, I know where you live and I'll be dropping by.'"

Stanley chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "He's in jail, Donna."

She threw herself back into the pillows. "Damn well oughta be."

"Yeah," Stanley rubbed at his temple. She was too unfocused. She was nothing but a big ball of anger and anxiety. "OK. Answer this question for me. How is this fear different from the fear you were having before, associated with Josh?"

Donna closed her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. "How is this fear different?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know what you're trying to get me to say," Donna answered.

"I'm trying to get you to answer the question truthfully, Donna," Stanley said firmly. "Don't just say something because you think it's what I wanna hear. That wastes both our time. You said before that you were afraid of losing Josh. But you're afraid after the robbery, too. How is this fear different?"

Donna thought for a minute and shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "But it is."

"It's different because this is a more selfish fear. This is a fear that doesn't involve self-sacrifice, or love for someone else. This is about the instinct for self-preservation. Someone attacked you, threatened you, and for no other reason than that you were there. The fact of the matter is, there's a finer line than you'd like separating you from Fred, and as much as you feel badly for what happened to him, you can't help but be—"

"Grateful it's not me," Donna finished quietly.

"And you feel guilty about being happy to still be alive," Stanley continued. "So you look for something to blame, and it all comes back to bad luck and this guy. "So you're angry, at him, at the situation, at yourself. And what you're left with is one nervous, guilty, conflicted, pissed-off person. Oh, and then there's a fear that so deep-seated it's almost primal. Sound familiar?"

"You don't even need me here for this, do you?"

"If you'll pay attention, I'm trying to teach you a little something, here," he said sternly. "Sound familiar?"

"Yes, professor." She swiped at a few frustrated tears that had fallen and picked at the covers with her fingers. "What do you propose I do about it?"

"I propose we keep our Wednesday appointment and figure it out," Stanley said.

"I'm so sick of the wait and hurry up," Donna said. "With Bernard, with the therapy. Let's get the show on the road already, Stanley."

"Show's already on the road, Donna, but you keep forgetting one very important fact."

"Which is?"

"That you're human, and you can only do so much in a day. You're gonna get better. That's what we — human beings — do. We heal. But we don't do it in an hour. Or a day. Or a week," Stanley said.

Donna breathed out slowly through her nose. "OK. Wednesday, then?"

"Absolutely," Stanley said. "But in the meantime, I want you to keep a few things in mind. Don't push yourself so hard. Don't try to go too far too fast. This is not a race to the finish line, Donna. You can't do it in a sprint. It's an endurance exercise. Quit trying to leap tall buildings in a single bound. More often than not, you're gonna fall on your ass when you try."

Donna snorted, but remained quiet.

"And try to think a little bit about what good it does to carry around guilt because you have a heartbeat," Stanley said. "And give some thought to your connection with Bernard."

"My connection with him?" Donna asked. "We don't share a connection, Stanley."

"Really?" Stanley said. "Then why was it you were so worried about what happens to him?"

"That's different, and you know it," Donna said.

"I don't think it is," Stanley said. "Either you want to keep this guy in your life in some way or you don't."

"I don't," Donna ground out.

"Then it's time to let go of him, and let him lie in the bed he's made," Stanley said. "And it's time for you to get back to your own life."

She was quiet for a moment. "I'm trying," she said, sounding small.

Stanley smiled softly. "And you're getting there. Don't be discouraged. Now we can really start getting down to business."

"I can hardly wait," Donna said tiredly. "Talk to you Wednesday."

"You bet. Feel better," Stanley said, and the line went dead.

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

The phone to her apartment rang at about fifteen minutes before noon.

"Hello?"

"I was doing so well," Josh said.

Donna looked at her watch. "You really were. This is a record."

"I can't find the file on Watson. I need to double-check his voting record on past education initiatives," Josh said.

"I already pulled it," Donna sniffled, swiping at he nose with a tissue. "It's out at my desk, in that little tabletop fileholder. Near the front."

"Gotcha," he said. "How ya feelin'?"

"Crappy," Donna said. "I'm sick."

"I still just can't get over that," Josh said in mock disbelief.

"You're very funny," Donna said. "Stanley also decided my day wouldn't be complete without an ass kicking from him."

"What did he say?"

"Well, the good news is, we're finally getting down to business and hashing out some of the stuff from the robbery," Donna said. "The bad news is that I have survivor's guilt, misdirected anger and primal fear. Don't stand too close to the glass, Josh. I can't guarantee your safety." 

Josh laughed. "You don't scare me."

"I ought to," she grinned. She'd been kinda down ever since the phone call with Stanley. Just hearing Josh's voice lifted her spirits. "Did you hear anything yet on the—"

"Sam made a call. Things are moving at a snail's pace this morning," Josh said. "Their names hadn't been called as of about an hour ago. CJ's got a deputy keeping a watch on it, because she knows she'll get questions once it's done. We'll know as soon as there's something to know."

Donna inhaled deeply and released the breath. "'Kay. The doctor's office is working me in..." she glanced at her watch, "in about 30 minutes. I gotta go."

Josh furrowed his brow. "You feel that bad?"

"Pretty much like I did this morning," she said. "But I figure as long as I'm out of work, I may as well get the good stuff."

"Not a bad idea," he said, tilting back in his chair. "Although, I gotta say, I like what it's done to your voice, you've got this...blues singer raspy thing going on."

"Do you have a Lou Rawls fantasy I should know about?"

Josh blinked. "Ahkay, I gotta go. I'll call you when I get back from the Hill."

"Do good up there, Josh," she said. "You need anything else before I go?"

"Not unless you wanna tell me what you're wearing."

She smiled. "The sooner you come back here, the sooner you can find out." She placed the handset back on the base and smiled, wishing she could see the slack-jawed look on his face.

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

The doctor had been sympathetic to Donna's plight and had given her a prescription for a decongestant and something for the coughing. She stopped at her usual drugstore a few blocks from her apartment to have them filled.

Sutton's was a long-standing establishment in the city, an old- fashioned, family-owned, family-run drug store complete with a little lunch counter. They didn't have a drive-through window, or a 24-hour schedule, but they did have a father-son pharmacy team who, between them, could remember every ailment you'd had since you'd started coming there. Donna's cough had started worsening the more she talked, so she handed her prescription to the junior Mr. Sutton and wandered over the the lunch counter while she waited on them to be filled.

Old Mrs. Sutton greeted her and plopped a handmade Cherry Coke down in front of her. This was Donna's custom when she was sick. She always got a Cherry Coke when she wasn't feeling well. It was something her mother had started when she was a kid.

"Nothing too serious, I hope," Mrs. Sutton said as she set the styrofoam cup down.

"Bronchitis and sinusitis," Donna said, dropping a straw into the drink and shoving her hands back into the pockets of her Redskins zip-up hoodie.

"Honey, that's going around," Mrs. Sutton said sympathetically.

"I got caught out in the rain Friday," Donna said.

"That probably helped it along a little," Mrs. Sutton chided. "Arthur and Don are moving pretty fast in the back today, you shouldn't have to wait too long," she said, patting Donna's hand lightly and turning back to the lunch rush.

Donna slurped her Cherry Coke like a kid, swinging her sneaker-clad feet from the barstool. She glanced up at the television mounted in the corner behind the counter, and recognized the DC Courts building. A reporter was doing a live standup. She strained to hear over the din of the other lunch customers.

"Bail was set at $900,000 for both men. Packard's was met almost immediately after the hearing, reportedly from a private source, not a bail bondsman, but details are still sketchy at this time. Sullivan is yet to meet bail and his public defender tells us there are no plans of doing so before the trial.

"Packard left the courts building in the company of his attorneys, who denied any requests for comment..."

The television flashed to minutes-old footage of Bernard being pushed out of the courthouse in a wheelchair by one of his attorneys. Another man did his best to shield Bernard, who kept his head down and eyes on his knees, from the cameras. Police officers physically held the reporters at bay.

Donna stared at the screen. He was out. He was...how can that...Sam and Josh had both said there was no way he would make bail. No way. And yet he...he was out.

She didn't even realize she was off the barstool, but she was, and she was backing slowly toward the door, eyes glued to the screen, heart feeling like it had all but stopped. She had to...she couldn't be here now. It wasn't safe. Not with him out of jail. She had to...she had to find somewhere more secure, somewhere he wouldn't think to...

Mrs. Sutton was so busy with her lunch customers that she didn't notice Donna's unattended purse or soft drink until moments after Donna had slipped out the door and disappeared down the street.