Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)

Rating: PG-13 (mature themes)

Archive: If you want it, you may have it. Just tell me
first, please.

Summary: Donna takes Josh to the emergency room. (a
post-ep for 'Noel')

Disclaimer: Characters from "The West Wing" don't
belong to me. Instead, they are the sole property of
Aaron Sorkin, Warner Brothers Television and NBC. No
copyright infringement is intended and I am making no
money from this story.

Notes: Written in Josh's POV.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's incredible the way a day can change things.

Yesterday, I thought I was going crazy. I thought my
grasp on reality was tenuous at best.

But now I know I'm not crazy. I should've expected my
veneer would crack. But I'll be okay. No matter how
far I fall, someone will show me the way out of the
hole.

Yesterday, I thought I could slip away without anyone
noticing.

Today, Donna is insisting she take me to the hospital
to get my cut checked out. She noticed. She cared.
That means a lot to me.

We walk outside. We talk for a moment. She reminds me
I'm not medical personnel.

There are carolers...and I freeze. The music...the
sirens...it stops me in my tracks.

I stand there for a while. It could be a million
years; it could be a millisecond. I'm just frozen.

"Josh," Donna says, snapping me out of my thoughts for
a moment.

I'm able to breathe. "Yeah."

"Let's go," she says plainly.

"Okay."

Donna puts her arm around me. It seems so natural I
barely notice it. I don't speak.

She leads me away from them, but I still can't help
but look at them. Something as innocuous as a
Christmas carol could bring the memories back. The
sirens... Everything.

I finally look forward. I look away from them. And I
understand that these things won't rule my life.

And there's Donna. Right by my side.

She takes me to her car, a beaten down looking Volvo.
Maybe she *should* get a raise.

Donna opens the car door for me. I stare at her for a
moment. "Are you my escort for the evening?" I say
with a slight smile.

"Yes. And we'd get to the prom quicker if you got in
the car," she shoots back.

I comply. I might as well. Fighting with Donna can be
a no win situation. At least when she's right.

It feels like we're driving forever.

The vehicle is completely silent. Donna's not talking.
The car radio's off.

I wonder if she did that on purpose. I wonder how much
she knows. How much she has realized.

I have my face leaning against the window. I could say
I'm looking at the festive scenery, but I not looking
at anything. I'm just staring.

"Josh?" Donna says, breaking the silence in the car.

"Yes?" I say.

"Aren't you going to ask me if we're going to be there
soon?"

"No."

"Because we're going to be there in about five
minutes."

"Okay." I pause for a moment. "It was the music," I
say. I don't know why. "The music sounded like
sirens."

"And that's why you froze near those carolers?" she
asks quietly.

"Yeah."

"Okay," she replies.

We pull up in front of the emergency room. I see
Donna's about to get out of the car. And it occurs to
me that I'm taking away her holiday.

"Donna," I say. "You don't have to come in with me."

"Yes, I do," she insists.

"It's Christmas Eve. Go be with people you love.
Decorate trees and deck halls or something," I say.

"I already decorated my tree and decked my halls.
Decent people do that *before* Christmas Eve," Donna
says with a slight smile. "I'm coming in with you,
Josh," she asserts.

I don't actually want her to go, so I put up no fight
whatsoever. "Okay."

I fill out the proper forms (I complain about it,
though). I take a seat in the waiting room (I complain
about this, too). Donna sits right next to me.

"I don't really need a doctor," I say.

"So, you've completed medical school in the half hour
since we last had this conversation?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

We are silent again. I wish I never had to be in a
hospital again.

I wish Donna didn't have to be here again.

I think we could both be happy if we didn't have to go
into a hospital again.

It doesn't hold the greatest memories.

"How's your hand?" she asks.

"Apparently, it'll be fine once a doctor looks at it,"
I say testily. I'm not so sure why I'm irritated.

"I mean, does it hurt?" she says with consideration.

"Not really. It's just a cut," I say a little too
defensively.

"Okay. You broke a glass?" she asks.

Apparently, how I cut my hand is fascinating to
everyone today.

"I broke a window. I broke a window in my apartment,"
I say.

Donna is silent for a moment. She breathes deeply.
"Okay." There is a look of concern on her face.

Suddenly, I feel the need to spill out everything to
her. "Stanley asked me if I thought I was
suicidal...if I worried that I could be suicidal. I
told him no, but I was lying. I'm sure he knows I was
lying."

I don't even know why I'm telling her this. I just
feel I have to. I want to.

"Josh," she says softly as she touches my arm.

It feels so comforting to have her close to me. So
*natural* somehow. "After I broke the window...I
looked down at my hand...I saw the blood...I thought,
what if I had cut my wrist? Would it have mattered?"

I look up at her. There are tears in her eyes. I
didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't even mean to
say all this to her.

I just wanted to tell her I was okay. I actually do
feel much better now.

But I feel that message is lost.

"Josh," she says softly. "It would've mattered. More
than you could ever know."

"I know that. I know that now. But for a while...I had
such a tenuous grasp on reality. I didn't know what
would happen." I put my good hand on hers. "But we get
better," I say, remembering Stanley's words. "I'll get
better."

"You will," she affirms.

There is such a beauty inside her eyes. Such a
comforting glow.

I told her all this, and she doesn't judge me. Doesn't
pity me.

She just...she just cares.

We sit there and stare at each other. Time seems to
slow down...to freeze entirely. But this time, it's
for a good reason. It's a serene and warm pause.

I smile at her and squeeze her hand.

She smiles back.

A nurse interrupts us. "Mr. Lyman. We have a room for
you now."

"You can go home now, Donnatella," I say. I'm really
ruining her holiday.

"Of course not! You need to get home."

"I could take a cab," I say.

"No. I'm driving you home, Joshua."

I look at my watch. It's 11:32. "It's almost
Christmas."

"It's a quarter after twelve, so technically it is
Christmas."

I look at my watch again. "It's 11:32."

Donna lets out an overdrawn and exasperated sigh.
"Your watch really sucks, Josh."

The nurse makes a throat sound to get our attention.
I'd actually forgotten about her. By the look on her
face, I think she's irritated by us.

"Mr. Lyman," she says.

I look at Donnatella. "You're staying?"

"Yes, Josh."

"You'll wait here?"

"Yes, Josh." She smiles widely at me. "A second ago
you wanted me to leave."

"I didn't really want you to leave," I blurt out.

She looks surprised for a moment, then pleased. "Good.
I'll wait right here."

"Okay." I know she's telling the truth. She'll be
there for me. And I suspect it'll last for a long
while.

And that comforts me. And makes me glad to know my
tenuous grasp on my life has been strengthened.

THE END