NOTES: All good things must come to an end. Either that or Batman must find something else to do. There are more stories to write!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. It's sad but it's true. I don't even own Batman, but I AM BATMAN!!! so I can't own myself anyway. :) I hail Aaron Sorkin, and I love Toby, and this story is merely for mine and other's enjoyments. Don't sue. Please.
SUMMARY: Just another day from the point of view of the West wing staff that we all know and love.

Will you get the hell away from me with that? I feel fine! I would like to go home now! I don't care what the doctor said. I feel fine. No, I do not need some valium. God, what kind of people are these? I need to get back to the office. Talking to Charlie on the phone doesn't make the president any more prepared for the Forbes address then he's gonna be if Sam takes over. Sam can't handle the damn thing. And with the Newsuem event coming up next week in Arlington, he's not going to be at the best he can be.

Damn that kid, making me watch out for him. It's the whole big brotherly thing, and I really wish it would go away already. I did my duty. I stood up for him. Why is he persisting with that whole little brother look everyday? He looks at me like he needs me to brother him and then I can't get through the day without that look popping up somewhere. By the end of the week, I actually feel like I have to do something nice for him. Still, I can't wait to get back to the office to see the look. Then at least I know I can keep an eye on him. I don't like sitting here with nothing to do. I want to go back to work, or even home. Lord knows, I'm not going to be able to do much typing with this damn thing, but maybe I can make it through on painkillers and deal with whatever it is after I handle the important stuff.

Sigh. I've got to relax. Just have to breathe. Ooh, that hurts. I need those painkillers now. Why is it no one tells me things like this happen? I could have scheduled around it. Ten o'clock, staff meeting; eleven o'clock: meeting with Shane Cox; twelve fifteen: leave for lunch; twelve twenty: get hit by car. I mean is that so hard? I could have gotten bandaged up and sent back to the office by two where I could have coached the President through the damn Forbes speech. Now he delivers in less than an hour and I'm stuck in this damn hospital.

I admit it, I'd much rather see Josh's grinning face than these damn walls. Leo with his grumps, Sam with his jumps, even trashing the President's stupid little trivia questions would be more enjoyable than sitting here and doing nothing. And CJ's little comments... CJ... anyway. What was I sulking about? I don't even remember. I'm tired. I just want to go home, and it seems I won't be able to. Not until tomorrow anyway.

Nurse, I want to use the phone again! Yes, I do! Nurse, if you do not give me the phone, I will have this place demolished by the 82nd airborne next chance I get and I will make *damn* sure it's on your shift. Don't look at me like that. I need to talk to the president before he messes up. No, our president doesn't mess up, ma'am. That's not what I meant. Hey, get back here! I need the phone! Okay, I really hate hospitals. I guess this means if you want something done, you've got to do it yourself. Okay, bad idea. Ow ow ow ow. Bad idea. Maybe I'll just sit here. Yeah, maybe that will be good. Josh. Sam. CJ. What are you guys doing here? No, I'm fine, I... Shouldn't you guys be with the President? Watch it with me? You mean there's a TV in here? Holy, cow, look at that. Hey, Sam, did you tell him about -- But did you mention -- Yeah, okay. Thanks, CJ. I *have* been thirsty, but the nurses from hell don't like to listen to me. What do you mean, hard time, Lyman? God, things feel normal. I'd never let them know it, but I'm glad they're here. I guess friends really are worth something after all. Maybe I can finally relax...

Sam, did you remember -- Okay, just wondering.

The End



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