A/N: Hello, all ye Wingnuts. This here is my little collection of Josh and Donna fics, because, evidently, the pair of them turn me into a gooey little puddle of emotions. But then again, so do most characters on The West Wing.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own TWW, though I've tried to sell my soul for it on numerous occasions.

Reviews: My massive thanks go out to all my reviewers, you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear from you.

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When she feels him get up out of bed, she'll still vainly cling to the hope that maybe... he just has to pee. After about three minutes, she'll think maybe he wanted to get some water. After five, she thinks maybe he's been distracted by his pager or his phone. Around fifteen, she muses vaguely that perhaps, he's been abducted by aliens. But she knows. And most nights like this, she'll take a deep breath, and she'll drag herself out of bed. Because this is what she does.

He looks up at her blearily. "Hey."

She pads over, grabs the coffee cup from beside him, and heads into the kitchen to pour it down the sink. "Hey yourself."

"Did I wake you?"

"Not really." She sits down beside him.

"I did, didn't I? I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Sorry."

"Are you coming back to bed?"

"I have a lot of work to do." He says shiftily, not looking at her.

"Work that magically appeared since you finished at eleven?"

"Donna." He sighs, his head falling into his hand.

"Josh." She mimics.

He stands up, walking into the kitchen and just turning around a few times, a hand in his hair. "There's a lot of stuff going on right now. Things I need to work on."

"Things that couldn't wait until morning?"

"I wasn't going to sleep anyway."

"Josh, you can't sleep?" She looks at him in concern, but he's still avoiding her gaze, pacing.

"You know the Congolese meetings this week? We're botching them. I'm botching them. The self-righteous republican assholes on the foreign ops committee are strong-arming the staff into-"

"Josh." She gains his attention briefly. "You're no good to anyone when you're like this."

He looks at her for a moment more before resuming his pacing. "And... What the hell am I supposed to be telling the President on Kazakhstan? Every day we're in there with new shit to deal with, and every time he looks at me like I've got all the answers. Like I know what's going to happen. Does he not realize I've got zero years military experience, and if the United States government trusted me with matters of National Security, Gaza would've been blown off the map four years ago? I mean God Almighty, does he think I know what I'm doing because I've worked here before? Leo never had me in the sit room, Leo never had me on anything like this. Ask anyone, you of all people know, he would've kept me away from a situation like this with a twenty-foot stick."

Donna's gaze softens, and she stands, moving toward him.

"He'd know what to do." Josh says distractedly. Upon realizing what he's said, he casts a furtive glance at Donna before pushing on. "And the new policies we're putting out, especially these mindless subsidies, and these minuscule health care reform adjustments that crazed tea-partiers stick ridiculous amendments on, no wonder we can't get shit passed. I'm trying to stay out of it, but Sam is... Sam just isn't... They're wiping the floor with us on the most stupid stuff. You've seen the press, I mean is there anything we're doing right these days? Who are we helping being holed up in the sit room from nine to five?"

He's become hysterical now, his volume rising as he gestures broadly. He laughs bitterly, and there's a manic gleam in his eye.

"Josh. You're just stressed. Everything looks bad right now, but it'll look better in the morning. You're just stressed."

"For good reason!"

"Josh, who are you going to help in a state like this? This is unhealthy, you're going to kill yourself. To serve your country, you have to take care of yourself first-"

"This isn't about me!" He shouts, cutting her off abruptly. "This is about the fact that our country is the richest in the world, but we have a poverty rate to compete with the worst of them. This is about the fact that countries are dying of starvation, and AIDS, and we've got medicine, and we've got food. This is about the fact that millions of people look to us for guidance, and we're staring back at them like deer in the headlights. This isn't about me. I don't get to matter."

He trails off, breathing heavily.

"You matter to me."

He looks up at her reluctantly. "That's not what I-"

"And to Sam. And the President. And the President before him." She takes a step closer, not letting him get a word in. "And your mother. And to Leo. And to your staff. And to the millions of people you just mentioned, who will be no better off should you put yourself in an early grave."

"Donna, I'm not going to-"

"I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to come back to bed, you're going to sleep, and in the morning you're going to go to work and serve your country at your highest capacity. Because millions of people deserve better than to look to a man who can't even function properly."

"I can function properly." Josh says defensively.

"Not like this you can't."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do."

"Don't take that tone with me."

He drops his arms to his sides, raising his eyes to hers. His shoulders droop and he leans back against the counter. He says softly, "I just feel so helpless."

Sighing, she crosses to him slowly. Coming to a halt in front of him, she interlocks her fingers and places them on his forehead, resting her elbows on his shoulders and tilting his head back slightly.

"...Josh, Josh, Joshua, Josh. You're very hard to deal with sometimes."

He searches her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know."

"You're absolutely crazy. A complete nut. A burden, some might say. Very hard to deal with indeed."

"Yeah."

"But I do it any way. Because I love you."

"I love you too."

She leans in to kiss him, and when they break apart, she takes his hand. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

He looks at her with both exhaustion and guilt as she leads him to the bedroom. "I'm sorry, Donna."

"Don't be. It's okay."

"This is just... who I am."

"I know. And you're a brilliant, brilliant man. But even geniuses must sleep."

He smiles slightly. "I love you."

"I know."

They climb into bed, settling down.

"And you're brilliant."

Donna smiles. "Go to sleep, Josh."

"Okay."

He wraps his arms around her, and she rests her head on his chest. She waits patiently for his breathing to slow, and even out, before finally allowing herself to fall asleep as well. Because this is what she does.