Donna organized another pile of manila folders as she waited for Josh to come back from the hospital so that he could take her home. She had told Charlie that she was going to stop by the hospital herself to see Leo, but the more she thought about it, the more she didn't want to go. She'd had enough of hospitals to last her for a while.

The thought conjured up images she didn't want to re-live, flashes of memory, blood and light and pain. She blinked rapidly to dispel the demons, forcing her focus back to her surroundings.

Her surroundings of files and phone messages and post-its.

She let out a heavy sigh and her gaze fell on the black pen case that she'd carefully placed on the corner of her desk. It was so like Josh to give her a gift that at first glance seemed thoughtless, or silly, but which came from the purest place in his heart.

He was a maddening paradox, she mused, not for the first time. Thoughtful and thoughtless at once. A unique gift presented with pride and vulnerability, followed by a request to place more of his phone calls.

She wasn't sure she could do this for much longer.

She loved him, of course, may have implied denial to CJ but wasn't foolish enough to deny it to herself. And when he flew to Germany to be by her side -- and didn't leave until she practically pushed him out the door -- she'd started to let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, her feelings were not completely one-sided.

But now that they were both back at work, she felt the inexorable pull of their old habits and patterns, and she wondered if either one of them would ever have the strength to break free.

And yet -- if it was indeed true that what didn't kill you made you stronger, maybe Donna did have the strength, now.

She shut down her computer and stared at the blank monitor.

"You all right?"

She looked up at the sound of Josh's voice. He was leaning against the opening of her cubicle, his tie loosened, and circles under his eyes. She was surprised she hadn't heard him walk in. She essayed a smile and nodded her head. "Just a little tired, I guess."

"Yeah." His eyes narrowed with worry, which was not the reaction she was trying to provoke -- although she wasn't sure what she was trying to provoke, really. "I should get you home."

"Okay," she said simply. "How's Leo?"

"I don't know," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I mean, I guess he's okay. He was awake, barely. Managed a few sentences before shooing us away. You know how he hates to be fussed over."

"Yeah." She studied him in the dim light. "I'm sorry you're having to go through this, so soon after -- well. It just doesn't seem fair."

"It's not fair," he murmured. "But it's no more than I've come to expect."

"All right," she said, placating. "I'll admit you look better in self-pity than most, but it's really not a good look for anyone."

The corners of his mouth tugged upward at that, just enough to reveal dimples. "Fashion tips by Donnatella Moss."

"I'm not exactly a trendsetter in this thing," she said, gesturing to the wheelchair. His smile faltered, and she mentally kicked herself. "But I like to think I wear it well," she ventured.

"Absolutely," he said, looking more like himself again. "Come on, let's get you home."

She gathered up her things, then waited while Josh grabbed some files from his office. "Do you want to pick up some pizza on the way?" he called from his desk.

"That sounds nice," she said. Maybe he'd stay and eat it with her, and then they could watch some TV --

"Hey," he said, emerging from his office, "did you get that --"

"Treasury report?" she asked tiredly. "Yes, I did." She handed him the folder.

"Thanks," he said absently, flipping through it.

She watched him as he read. Waited for him to remember she was there.

She wasn't sure she could do this for much longer.

End.