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9. Sick in a snowstorm
(Season 6 episode 15)
New Hampshire voted for the democratic presidential candidate in five days and Josh Lyman was desperate for a day to sleep in. It was miserably cold with snow in the forecast. Josh slogged down the street, his shoes soaking in the slush, towards his hotel. It was almost 1am and Congressman Santos had just finished filming his ad at WMUR. Josh was still flabbergasted about the whole ordeal, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He just hoped it worked.
Shivering, Josh pulled his coat closer around him and wished he was going home to his own bed instead of the hotel room for the umpteenth night in a row; his body ached and there was a tickle in the back of his throat that didn’t mean anything good. As soon as his hotel room door latched behind him, Josh was kicking off his shoes and pulling his coat off to dry. There was nothing he wanted more than to crawl into bed, so he ticked the thermostat up a few degrees and stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and curled up in the cold sheets.
Josh slept terribly, tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable because of the way his body ached. He woke up frozen solid, his throat burning every time he swallowed. There was no way he was getting out of bed, but it wasn’t like he could take a sick day. A wave of dizziness crashed over him as he sat up, the alarm clock on the nightstand blaring in his ear and making his head throb. He groaned as he waited out the dizziness, his head in his hands, and jumped when the hotel phone rang.
“‘Lo?” Josh croaked. God, his throat was killing him.
“Hey, what do you think about staying in today? It’s snowing sideways, the roads are horrible.” It was Santos.
“Yeah, sure.” If Josh didn’t feel as sick as a dog he might have argued a little, pushed to get the Congressman out to shake hands and give out coffee to the plow truck drivers or something, but as it was Josh wasn’t sure he could even stand up. He hung up the phone and let himself flop back into the warm nest he’d made under the blankets.
The next eight hours passed in a blur that Josh couldn’t recall. The next time he was mostly aware of his surroundings, it was because someone was knocking on his door. Non stop. Wrapping the comforter around his shoulders, he shuffled to the door and pulled it open without checking to see who was outside.
It was Donna.
“Oh my god, Josh, you look awful.” She pushed him back into his room and he didn’t fight her, glad to be horizontal again. He felt terrible. Donna’s palm was cool against his cheek, and he leaned into her touch.
“Missed you, so much.”
“Shh, don’t talk.” Pushing the hair back away from his forehead, she let her hand linger longer than it needed too. She’d missed Josh, too.
Josh was vaguely aware of Donna calling someone, but he couldn’t track the words coming out of her mouth. The next he knew, Donna was helping him slide his pants back on and wrapping him up in his coat.
“You need to come with me, Josh. Okay?”
He’d follow her anywhere, didn’t she know that by now?
Donna pulled one of his arms over her shoulder and helped him get down the hall and into the elevator.
“Where are we going?” Josh’s throat felt impossibly worse than it had earlier that morning. “I don’t feel well.”
“The hospital. You’re burning up.” Donna frowned at Josh, wishing the elevator would hurry.
Will was waiting for them in the lobby. “Taxi’s out front. Need anything?” He was talking more to Donna than he was Josh.
“I’m okay. Thanks.” Donna pulled Josh towards the doors. “Just a few more minutes,” she whispered to him.
“He looks bad,” Will commented, opening the door of the taxi for them. “Keep me updated.”
Nodding, Donna folded Josh into the backseat and climbed in after him.
Josh’s mouth was dryer than the Sahara desert. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and when he tried to swallow his nonexistent spit, his throat felt like it was ripping in two.
“Here, drink,” Donna said quietly, holding a straw to Josh’s lips.
Confused, Josh peeled his eyes open. “Donna?”
“Drink,” she said again.
He did as she instructed. The water was blissfully cool in his mouth, though it still hurt when he swallowed. “What happened?” Josh asked once the cup was empty.
Sighing, Donna set the cup down and sat in the chair she’d pulled up to his bedside. “You’re in the ER with strep throat. Your fever was over 104˚ and when no one heard from you all day I decided to check on you. You seemed off yesterday, and it turns out that I was right.”
“I was fine yesterday,” Josh countered, wincing as he rolled onto his side. His body still ached terribly.
Donna raised an eyebrow at him, ignoring the quip. “You’re getting fluids and antibiotics, and if your fever goes down to a reasonable temperature you can go back to the hotel tonight.”
Josh’s eyes felt heavy. “Thanks,” he whispered.
“Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Josh fell asleep to the feeling of Donna’s fingers carding through his hair.
“Well, Mr. Lyman. You’ve gone and gotten yourself the most severe case of strep throat I’ve seen this winter,” the doctor said as he stood at the foot of Josh’s bed leafing through his chart. “Your fever is down to 99.6. How are you feeling?”
Josh swallowed experimentally. “Better.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—his throat didn’t feel like it was shredding every time he swallowed anymore, but he was still bone tired.
The doctor nodded. “You’ll need to finish this round of antibiotics, even if you’re feeling better. And I’d prefer it if someone could stay with you tonight, until you’re more back on your feet.”
Josh opened his mouth to tell the doctor he was fine alone when Donna cut him off.
“I’ll stay with him.” She didn’t meet Josh’s eye when she said it.
“Great. I’ll start his discharge paperwork.” The doctor left and Josh looked at Donna.
“You really don’t have to stay with me, I’ll be fine.”
Donna rolled her eyes and pulled Josh’s blanket up over his shoulder. “If I hadn’t noticed you looked off last night you’d be passed out on the hotel floor right now. I’m staying.”
Josh knew better than to argue with that tone. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He wasn’t really sure where they stood right then, but he knew that she’d always care about him the same way that he’d always care about her.
“Go back to sleep.” She kissed his forehead gently and smoothed back his hair, glad that she’d listened to her gut and knocked on his door until he answered. “I’m not going anywhere.”