We pull up to the emergency room. I see him
stiffen in his seat. I walk around to open the passenger door. He
hesitates. His eyes show questions and uncertainty. I make sure
mine do not. I smile at him and take him arm to guide him out of the
car.

"Donna." He whispers my name in my ear. "I
don't need a doctor."

I don't even answer him. I just walk him up
to the desk. The nurse behind the desk looks at Josh long and hard.
I wonder if she remembers him. That night. I wonder if she remembers
his blood, strewn everywhere, his torn clothes, the frightened faces
of those who love him. I wonder if Josh thinks these things too. He
gives her a weak smile. It's funny how six months ago if a nurse
looked at Josh long and hard I'd be hearing for a week how woman all
over desire him.

I walk Josh through the filling out of the
forms. His mind is not in the right frame of mind to remember his
insurance number. Actually come to think of it, he never remembers
this stuff anyway.

Finally we take a seat, side by side, in two
very uncomfortable plastic chairs.

"I hate hospitals." I didn't even realize I
said this outloud. I certainly didn't mean for Josh to hear it.

His eyes are suddenly showing concern and a
form of recognition, like he was just coming back to attention.

"I'm sorry." He sounds like a man beaten. I
want to say, For what? That he has no reason to be sorry. That I
was the one who chose to come to the hospital everyday that he was
here. Who say by his bed and prayed that I would not lose him. I
was the one who made it my second home. Just as I was the one who
chose to mention that Josh might not be handling the aftermath of the
shooting as well as he would like us to believe, to Leo.

"Don't be." I smile back at him.

"I don't pay you for this Donna. You don't
have to be here. It's Christmas Eve. You should be celebrating.
Wrapping presents. Drinking Egg Nog. Not stuck in and Emergency Room
with your emotional basket case for a boss.

I want to hit him for saying such things.

"Do Not say that!" I raise my voice a little
too high. He's startled. "You are not a basket case. There is
nothing wrong with getting help Josh. You were shot. You almost
died. You never talk about it. Not even to me. You try to do too
much to fast. It was just a matter of time...."

"Before I crack up." He cuts me off with a
sick smile.

"No....before you had to reach out." I say
much more softly. He looks down at his bloody bandaged hand.

"Is this how I reached out Donna? By going
fifteen rounds with my window?" He holds up his hand to me. And I
grab it. I brush my fingers against it gently. He doesn't yank it
away.

"It's okay." I see his eyes fill with
tears. For the first time in our entire relationship he lets me see
him cry. I don't know what to do except take him in my arms. I hold
him there for what seems like eternity and he clings on for dear
life. He needs this. He needs comfort from someone and I'm really
all he has. Sam, CJ, Toby, there his friends and they love him a lot
but there are also his peers in a field that only the strong
survive. He can't show them this side of himself.

He pulls away and his eyes show fear. I know
he's afraid he's overstepping boundries. I should tell him that
those boundaries have been overstepped long ago.

"I'm sorry." He whispers again. I squeeze
his good hand in assurance.

"you don't have to be sorry with me." He
looks like he believes me for the first time.

The nurse comes out to the waiting room.

"Mr. Lyman, the doctor will see you now."
He looks at me and I nod.

"Mrs. Lyman, you may come too." I get
embarassed by this statement.

"Oh I'm not-" I fumble.

"Yeah, come on." Josh grabs my hand. I'm
disgustingly delighted he didn't deny our make believe marriage. And
the two of us go brave the world of needles and stiches hand in
hand. He's going to get better. And I'm going to right here by his
side.