Thank you Marlou for the beta. This is kinda for Joss who inspired me a bit. And thanks Matthew.

It was February, granted and he was in New Hampshire, so it was cold. But the way he felt, he was sure, had nothing to do with the temperature.

Going on four months, he had been without her, completely without her. There were no reassuring phone calls or emails, not that he had expected any. If anyone was going to give a gesture like that it would have been him, but when he worked up the nerve to actually pick up his cell and dial in the familiar ten digits someone would call him.

Josh took that as a sign; he'd taken to be superstitious to save him from the eventually loneliness that would creep in after what he came to deem "a good pocket" but with no one to celebrate with. In the past, Donna would have a Doobie Brothers CD and a fresh Heineken on hand.

And they'd dance, from time to time they'd dance afterwards and he'd twirl her sometimes. Sometimes she'd giggle, and he'd grin at her, full of dimples and for those tiny little moments, those pockets, everything was kind of okay in the world.

But she wasn't there and he was far from alright and the year was rounding third base, about to slide into home and the scent of cinnamon and pine lingered everywhere he went. God, he hated that; the simple scent brought with it (or was supposed to, at least) 'good tidings and cheer'.

There was no cheer hovering about Josh Lyman that year. Again, he found something to blame it on: he was Jewish. And after all, he reasoned, Jews took suffering to a whole new level.

The hotel room he sat in was standard: two queen beds, two chairs, a coffee table, television and all of the rest of the nonsense. For a moment, he swore he just faded right back into the off-white walls; it was of no consequence. He felt lost.

Booting up his computer, he ran a hand through his always-tousled hair. It would be so simple to open up a new document and pour his heart out, send all of his emotions through hyperspace in binary and have her read them, but he wouldn't be there to see her face, to watch her gentle smile or perhaps to see her mouth twist in rage. Anything, he'd take anything in that instant. Josh, bordering on desperate, slammed the screen of his laptop shut and sat back, rocking on the edge of the bed.

The heat was set to eighty but it felt like absolute zero all around him. Such an easy problem to fix, such and easy problem to fix.

He laid his head back against the headboard, smacking it once, twice with his skull, before closing his eyes and sighing. Ten numbers flitted back and forth between his eyes, taunting him to near-madness, right to the brink. Josh's fingers itched to reach out and snatch up his cell phone, but his reasoning got the better of him. 'If she wanted to talk to you, if she wanted to be friendly with you at all, she would have called,' he reasoned. But after a moment, the other side of his brain came up with another valid point.

'Maybe she's thinking the same thing about you.'

Maybe this, maybe that, he couldn't stand being up in the air anymore. He needed something concrete, something to ground him and Donna used to be the one to do that... but now... nothing else would do. There was the chance that she would rebuff him, but it was a risk that he'd have to take if he ever wanted to feel like a sane human being again.

He was living with regret at that moment, and right then and there he realized that there was a good chance he couldn't live with the regret forever. Or the loneliness; he most certainly wouldn't be able to cope with the loneliness. He needed to formulate an idea, he was obviously brilliant.

He should be able to come up with an adequate plan...

A sudden rush of adrenaline shot through him and he sat up quickly, a file sliding off of the bed to spill over the boring green carpet. Josh didn't much care, the idea was wrapping itself about his fingers, spurring him to click open his laptop once more.

After tapping on the keyboard for a few seconds (he still couldn't get the hang of computers), Google popped up on screen and Josh pondered for a moment and typed in a few more letters. When the plethora of nice blue links appeared on screen, he took a chance with the first and began perusing the information.

Though Josh Lyman was a master of many things (and he was, no one could deny it), there were certain areas of secular knowledge that he simply did not bother with. This was one of them.

Finally, he settled on a pair of Balanze Atomic skis. Light blue with red, green and white stripes; he was sure she could find some cute snow clothing to go along with it. A few more clicks of the mouse and the entry of his credit card information and he was at the screen that queried as to where to ship the product.

Again, Josh sat back and thought. After his deliberation, he clicked the back button and ordered a pair for himself. A nice pair of black things that looked good enough. He didn't know how to ski... at all. Hell, he'd learn. If she was amicable to the idea, they could learn together.

An image surfaced in his head of the two of them at some quaint New England ski lodge, sipping hot cocoa or perhaps coffee and talking. Really talking. They would talk about when they met and what had changed and what they wanted to happen.

Maybe they'd kiss by the fire, perhaps he'd tell her that yeah, he loved her and she could do with that revelation what she wanted. Maybe, just maybe they'd actually make love and he'd be able to feel the skin he'd coveted for so long.

That was a maybe he could hang his heart on. That was the maybe he had to hang his heart on.

After charging the two pairs, he designated the women's pair to be shipped to Donna's address, the black pair to his own home.

At the bottom, where it asked what he wanted to send as a message, he immediately typed in, "Killington in February?" and then clicked 'Bill My Credit Card'. Sure, he was out nearly fifteen hundred dollars but he felt light in a way he hadn't felt in years.

Yeah, a trip to Vermont was definitely what he needed.