Josh sat on a low wall outside the Emergency Department, grateful for the overhang protecting him from the light rain. He had called the President and then the White House. With no new details to report, the conversation with Leo had been short, the one with Toby even shorter. He had tried calling Donna, but there was no answer so he had taken a moment to find the cafeteria and buy a cup of coffee. Sipping that, he leaned against the building and watched with interest as an ambulance roared in, lights flashing but the siren off. As soon as it stopped, the rear doors flew open and an EMT jumped to the ground, waiting only long enough for his partner to appear before yanking out the gurney. Josh caught a glimpse of an old man, his face covered by an oxygen mask, before they disappeared inside.

As the automatic doors slid closed, he realized his phone was ringing. Digging it out of his pocket, he glanced at the caller ID and smiled.

"Hi, Mom."

His mother's words came in a rush, and he heard the sound of rapidly changing television stations in the background. "Josh, I just got home and found your message. How's Sam?"

"I'm waiting to hear now. The doctor said he has a concussion, and she's waiting for some test results."

"Have you seen him?"

"No, not yet."

"How could this happen?" Mrs. Lyman demanded. "It's such a beautiful day!"

Josh looked up at the grey sky. "Not here, Mom. It's been raining most of the day."

"And he went sailing in weather like that?"

"Well, he was going to get wet anyway —"

"Have you spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Seaborn?" she asked. "The news is showing their house right now. Why can't they leave them alone? Whatever happened to common decency?"

"It's all right, Mom, they're on their way here."

"The very idea, though," his mother fumed. "It's the national news! What can they possibly think showing a house adds to the story?"

Josh sighed. "They think it adds color."

"Well, it doesn't!" She snapped out each word.

"I know, Mom, I know."

"How are you doing, dear?" she asked after a quiet moment.

"I'm okay — a lot better than I was when I called before." He rubbed his eyes. "Mom, I never want to go through anything like this again. If the President hadn't thought of something for me to do, I would've lost my mind waiting for news."

"It's dreadful when there's nothing to do but wait," she agreed. "And you've never been the most patient of souls, dear."

Josh thought of the moment Leo had told them the news. He never wanted to feel that helpless ever again. And if that meant Sam never stepped foot on a boat again, that was perfectly fine with him.

"Excuse me. Are you Mr. Lyman?" a nurse called from the door of the Emergency Department.

Josh nodded and held up a finger. "Mom, I've gotta go."

"All right, dear. Call me later if you have the chance, and give my best to Sam and his parents."

"I will. Love you, Mom." As he hung up, Josh turned off his cell phone and put it into his jacket pocket. Picking up his backpack and his coffee, he hurried toward the entrance.

"Dr. Donoghue was called away, but she asked me to take you in to see Sam."

"How is he?" Josh asked as he followed her.

"The doctor will give you all the details, but she's really pleased with him, everything looks good. The respiratory therapist just finished evaluating him, and now we're waiting for a room on the telemetry floor. It shouldn't be long, though." She stopped by the half-open door of a darkened treatment room. "He's a little sensitive to light so we're keeping the lights off in here," she explained, stepping back.

Josh nodded his thanks as he passed her, his attention focused solely on Sam. For the last ninety minutes, he had thought of nothing but what Dr. Donoghue had told him, but neither her words nor his imagination had prepared him for the sight of his best friend. Dropping his things on the counter, he moved to stand beside the gurney. The back had been raised so Sam was sitting almost bolt upright. He was ashen, his lips colorless and his skin pale, almost translucent, under two days' growth of beard. His hair had dried, leaving tufts of it standing on end.

Reaching under the blankets, Josh gripped his wrist, almost recoiling from the chill of his skin. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "God, Sam. You look like hell."

Sam's eyes opened no more than a crack. "Josh?" he mumbled, his voice rough.

He forced a smile. "How you doin', buddy?"

"Head hurts."

"I'll bet it does. You hit it pretty good."

Sam frowned as he tried to find a comfortable position. "Hmmm..."

Josh waited until he settled and then tucked the blankets back into place. "Better?"

"Tired."

"Why don't you rest for a while?"

When he thought Sam was asleep, he rolled a stool beside the gurney and sat down, resting his hand on Sam's forearm. He studied the bruising under Sam's eyes and the bandage covering the stitches on his forehead. He looked battered and exhausted, but, Josh reminded himself, it could have been so much worse.

"Josh?" Sam mumbled after a moment, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Right here."

"You okay?"

Josh grinned for the first time in hours. "I'm fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't 've tackled me," Sam complained, shifting on the gurney. "Wasn't fair."

Josh smoothed the blankets with his free hand. "That was last week, remember?"

Dark eyebrows rose, and Sam winced as the stitches pulled. "Last week?" he asked, one hand fumbling towards his forehead.

Taking hold of it, Josh tucked it back under the blankets. "Yeah. We played football in the Rose Garden last Saturday."

Sam frowned as he grappled with that, but after a moment, a smile ghosted across his mouth. "...beat you."

"Yeah, you beat us. Toby's already talking about a rematch."

"Now?"

Josh shook his head. "Nah, we're going to stay here for a while, so you just rest, okay?"

Sam dozed off then, his breathing easing and his face less strained. Josh sat quietly, content to keep watch over him. Outside the door, people came and went, but it was calmer than he had expected an emergency room to be on a Saturday. Occasionally someone looked in on Sam or offered Josh coffee, but, for the most part, they left them alone. Never releasing his hold on Sam's arm, Josh slowly let go of all the fears and anxieties of the past few hours. It was so much easier to do with Sam — pale, battered and exhausted, though he was — here beside him than it had been forty feet down the hall on the other side of the emergency room doors.