Disclaimer: The West Wing and the characters from the show aren’t mine, they belong to Aaron Sorkin et al. No copyright infringement intended. Alex and the other characters you don’t recognise are mine. Again, if someone’s used the name(s) or storyline(s) elsewhere, the same applies. Feedback would be nice, positive feedback would be nicer. Enjoy! catrinamarlow@aol.com
Category: General WW fanfic
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: The WW gang plus POTUS
Series: No
Spoilers: None
Summary: Josh learns to value all life. Even if it does have fleas.
Archive: Just tell me where it’s going
Additional ‘stuff’: This was written in response to a conversation I had with some WW fans. It is dedicated to all those on the Yahoo ‘WestWingintheUK’ site, especially Caron, who takes Josh-protection to new heights. Yeah, I know it’s corny, just indulge me, okay? The title is from a song. The songwriter, not me, owns it. Josh and Sam share a house. Purely to save money.
Title: Take these broken wings…
Sam stopped as they walked to the car. ‘J, that pigeon was there yesterday.’
Josh looked at his watch. ‘And?’
Sam pulled a piece from the slice of toast he was still eating as they left the house and threw it at the bird. The pigeon hobbled slowly towards him, its hunger overcoming its fear. And its broken wing, which stuck out awkwardly.
Sam watched it for a few seconds. ‘It’s got a broken wing.’
Josh sighed. ‘You’ll have more than a broken wing if we’re late for staff. Get in!’
In the few free moments Sam had during the day, the image of the wounded bird flashed into his mind.
***************
‘It’s still there.’ Sam walked across the path to their front door leaving Josh standing with the key in the lock.
‘Sammy, leave it.’
‘It could die.’
Josh shook his head. ‘It’s a wild animal. Survival of the fittest.’
Sam looked at Josh with new eyes. ‘Don’t you care that it’s suffering J?’
Josh opened the front door, walking inside. ‘No. I’m hungry.’
Sam left his food almost untouched, then got up and picked up an empty cardboard box which he had been meaning to fill with stuff he intended to throw out. He pulled the centre pages from Josh’s newspaper and pushed them into the base of the box. As Josh watched, bemused, he went outside, lifted the pigeon into the box, concerned at its lack of struggle to escape, then came back inside.
‘Love, do you know anything about pigeons?’
Sam shook his head. ‘At least this way it will be safe.’
Josh got up, tipping his plate into the sink. ‘You could try feeding it some of your spaghetti. It looks like worms.’
Sam ignored Josh’s sarcasm and filled a small dish with water, placing it in the box with the bird. Then he covered the box with a sheet which was sitting in the basket in front of the washing machine and, reluctantly, followed Josh to bed.
****************
‘What the Hell is that?’ Leo looked into the box Sam was carrying into the West Wing.
‘It’s an injured pigeon, Leo.’
‘What is it doing here?’
‘Well, I couldn’t leave it at home. It will be hungry.’
‘Get it out of here. It’s vermin. And they carry diseases. And fleas.’
Sam carried the box towards the door. Donna was just arriving, and she looked into the box as Sam passed her. ‘Is that a pigeon?’
Sam nodded. ‘It’s got a broken wing. Leo said…’
Donna stroked the bird’s head with her finger. ‘Oh, he’s precious. What’s his name?’
Josh couldn’t help joining in the conversation. ‘How do you know it’s a ‘he’?’
‘Boys are bigger.’
‘Do you have another one to compare it with?’
Donna shook her head. ‘Has it eaten?’
‘Not yet. I’m gonna take it outside.’
‘It’s freezing Sam. It might die.’
‘Then we might get some work done. Donna!’ Josh’s exasperated voice carried across the room. But if he was expecting Donna to follow him into his office, he was disappointed.
‘Sam, put it under the coffee machine. I think there are some biscuits in the tin. You could try feeding it one of them until we work out what they eat.’
‘Okay.’
*************
By the middle of the morning, word had got round that Sam had bought an injured pigeon into the office. Leo had to fight to get to the coffee machine, surrounded as it was by, mainly, female staff. He turned and shouted across the office: ‘Sam, I thought I told you to get rid of that flea-ridden…’
Cathy looked round at Leo. ‘Leo, he’s got a broken…’
‘Wing. I know!’ Leo snapped. ‘But this the West Wing…’
He didn’t get any further as several smothered giggles interrupted him. Snatching his coffee mug up, Leo walked back to his office, slamming the door.
‘What’s its name?’
Sam shrugged. ‘I didn’t give it a name.’
He looked up as Toby’s voice increased in volume as he came towards Sam, several sheets of paper in his hand. ‘Sam, are you sure POTUS…’
He stopped as Ginger interrupted him. ‘That’s great, Toby. POTUS pigeon.’
Toby looked crossly at his assistant, not understanding what on earth she was talking about, and being too busy to care. Sam wondered how the Communications Director could have been in the office almost four hours and not noticed that there was an injured pigeon in the kitchenette. But he followed Toby back to his office and tried to concentrate on Toby’s comments on the speech he had just written.
**************
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