Chapter 13

They stood there waiting for paramedics to come get Officer Davidson. The other officer, the one who currently had Josh handcuffed, didn't say a word to him. He just stood behind him, one hand on the cuffs, and one hand on his shoulder. His head was killing him. He longed to be locked in the bathroom in the pavilion again where the noise was quieter and his t-shirt was tied around his head, relieving some of the pressure. Now his stomach had a sharp pain and his back ached as he had to arch it a bit due to his hands being behind his back. At least the guy had put the gun away, Josh thought to himself.

The paramedics arrived about two minutes later and checked for a pulse before looking at the man's leg. Josh watched as they ripped his pants leg apart where the hole was and bared the bullet wound to look at it. He'd never seen one… open before. Sure, he'd seen them in the movies and on television, but never a real one. He'd only seen his own, in the mirror in his bathroom three weeks after the shooting and countless times since, but by then it had been closed, the bandages had long since been discarded, the stitches had been removed, there hadn't been any blood. Just a small pink spot about the size of a nickel that was raised and sensitive to the touch.

Donna had seen it when it was worse, of course. Once he was stable enough to not need constant in-home care, a nurse had taught her how to change his bandages and check for infection while he'd stared at the ceiling horrified, fighting off tears of embarrassment. And later that night she'd done it alone. She'd come into his room, told him unceremoniously to roll onto his other side, and she'd changed it while talking to him about one of his favorite things in the world, the Mets. She'd asked about the duties of the short stop, and although he was positive she knew them, he'd been relieved to not have to focus on being so helpless in front of her, his assistant and the woman he'd had more than one sexual fantasy about. When she'd moved on to the larger more complex bandage across his chest, she'd asked him about the baulking rule and why National League pitchers had to bat when the American League pitchers didn't and what they did about that during the World Series, and he'd explained it to her as he watched her eyes show acceptance instead of disgust or pity while she carefully put the cream and then the clean bandage on his chest. Looking back, that might have been the night he fell in love with her.

The walkie-talkie beeped and he heard someone on the other end yelling calmly into it. "Everyone out of there now. The riot team's here. I repeat; cease and move out now."

The officer shouted down to the paramedics who couldn't have possibly heard the announcement over the surrounding noise. "We have to hurry. The riot team's here!" he yelled, still holding Josh firmly.

The paramedics looked at him and nodded, then lifted Officer Davidson carefully to the gurney, paying special attention to his leg. Once he was on it, they picked it up and the five of them made their way towards the ambulance area at a quick pace. Josh, in pain and total exhaustion, had trouble keeping up, but the officer behind him showed no mercy, shoving him ahead when he started to slow down.

zzzzzzzzzzzz

He thought it felt like deja-vu. They'd been in this minivan twice together already today. And like the other times, she was quiet. Like the other times, she stared out the window. Like the other times, he felt responsible for her, as though Josh had left her in his care. But unlike the other times, it didn't feel temporary.

He had no delusions. She was an adult. It wasn't as if Josh would've expected him to take Donna in, adopt her, feed and clothe her. If there was a funeral in a few days, he most assuredly wouldn't be the person Josh would expect to be there sitting in the family row with her. They must have friends together. Friends who knew them as a couple; and those would be the people who would be there for her. To hold her hand, he suspected, not hold her up.

And given the choice, he was sure she would pick anyone but him. This man she'd only known for an hour and fifteen minutes, who'd tried, and failed, to control her the entire time, who took her away from the one place she wanted to be, then kept her from going to the man she loved not once, but twice. No, she wouldn't want him to be the one holding her hand.

But he still felt responsible for her. She was several states away from those who knew best how to help her. It would have to be him; he would be the one standing next to her when she found out Josh was dead. He, and possibly Helen, would be the only ones she'd have to lean on, if she chose to lean at all. Suddenly, he felt inadequate, and he couldn't help sighing at the irony of it. Why was Josh Lyman always signing him up for things he was unqualified to do?

"What did he say exactly?" she asked in a far away voice from the back seat.

He looked at her and paused before speaking. She'd already asked him twice. "It was hard to hear him."

"Well," she spit out. "What did you hear?"

He smiled softly at her, even as she snapped at him. But he would take it, every thing she had to dish out at him, regardless of how bad it got. That was part of the deal. Part of the 'Get her out of here. She's gonna try to get you to come back here and get me. Ignore her and get her the hell out of here' Josh had shouted to him just over an hour ago. An hour ago, when he'd told Josh to sit tight and they'd get him out of there.

He wondered if he should tell her what the officer said to him. Wondered again, really. In the five minutes since he'd spoken to the man about Josh's condition, about the grey matter, about the fact that Josh probably wouldn't make it to the hospital, he'd second and third and tenth guessed himself. Should he tell her, prepare her as the officer had put it? Tell her while she sat alone in the backseat of a minivan while they drove 80 miles an hour down the highway? He dismissed it again. He couldn't tell her like that, not when there was no one there to… console her.

"He said Josh was unconscious. He said he had a head wound. He told me where they were taking him, and he gave me directions," he said again.

She finally looked away from the window and caught his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Nothing else?"

He shook his head. The officer could've been wrong anyway. Maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe it wasn't grey matter. Maybe grey matter wasn't as bad as it sounded. Maybe he'd make it after all.

But was that really what was keeping him from telling her? Or was he being a coward? He'd stopped her from getting to Josh and now if he told her he wasn't going to make it… he couldn't even imagine the way she'd react to that. He was prepared to be blamed by her, but being the one to tell her? Maybe it was too much. Maybe he wasn't brave enough for that.

"I'd know what was going on right now if I'd gotten in the ambulance," she mumbled, looking back out the window.

"I know. I'm sorry. Maybe I should've let you get in. I was just trying…" he trailed off. She didn't need his excuses. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Can you go faster," she asked, still looking out the window.

"I'm going 80," he replied quietly.

She turned and looked at him again. "Then go 90."

He nodded once and stepped on the accelerator.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

"Call me as soon as it's done…. Yeah, thanks." He hung up and looked around. The President, Toby, Leo, and CJ Cregg were all in the oval office with him staring at him as though he had all the answers in the world. In this case, he wished he did.

"What do we know, Mike?" asked the President.

He took a deep breath. "That was the officer in charge at the scene. The riot team's arrived. This should be over in five minutes."

"And Josh?" Leo asked.

He shook his head and looked down a little. "They haven't found Josh."

It was quiet for several seconds while they each took in his words. "What will the riot team do, exactly," CJ asked quietly.

He turned towards her. "They're clearing out the police now. Apparently one was shot in the leg, but paramedics got to him. Once he's in an ambulance, they'll give it another minute, and then they'll throw eight to ten tear gas grenades into the crowd. At that point, it should disperse quickly. Most people will disengage fighting and run, they'll be taken into custody as they cross the barricades. 90 of those that don't run will be unconscious within 60 seconds, and the police will go back in wearing masks."

"But the tear gas isn't dangerous, right?" she asked.

He shrugged. "That's depends on who you ask. There are groups, I'm sure you're aware of them, who say tear gas is dangerous. You know many if not most countries refuse to use it. But if you're asking my opinion," he looked at her and she nodded. "It's not dangerous. They should've used it an hour ago."

Toby cleared his throat. "How will they get Josh, once they've used the tear gas. How will they find him?"

"Well, not to sound stereotypical, but Josh will be one of the few Caucasians there. That'll make it easier. They know they're looking for him too; it's just going to be a matter of time before they find him. But it could be a while. There are still several hundred people in the riot zone."

"What's the death count at, Mike," Leo asked.

"Sixteen, but they expect that number to go up once they get in there."

"But as far as they know," the President asked. "Josh…"

"No Sir. Josh isn't one of the sixteen."

He nodded. "Thanks Mike."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

They were taken directly to an ambulance, where the paramedics lifted officer Davidson inside. Once they had him safely in, one of them turned to look at Josh's head. He took off the gloves he'd used on the officer and carefully put his hand in Josh's hair, pulling back on the large gash. "Any other injuries?" he asked him loudly.

"My back and stomach hurt," he yelled back, wincing as the paramedic touched the bone under his right eye and then the bridge of his nose.

"We'll take him too," he said, looking behind Josh at the officer still holding onto him.

The officer nodded and gave Josh a little push towards the ambulance. He tried to take a large step into the ambulance, but couldn't lift his leg high enough, and without the use of his hands to help him, he tumbled backwards and the officer caught him before he fell.

"Can you take those off?" the paramedic asked, nodding towards the handcuffs.

"Absolutely not," the officer shouted, pushing Josh towards the ambulance again. This time, Josh lifted one foot onto the platform and the paramedic took him by the shoulders and pulled him inside as the officer pushed on him from the back. "I'll ride in front," the officer shouted, jogging around to the passenger side of the ambulance.

The paramedic helped Josh sit down on the small bench in the ambulance and turned to shut the back doors. Then he pounded on the wall and the ambulance started moving. Even with the sirens on, the noise was considerably quieter and he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes for just a second, taking a deep breath. He was safe.

He opened his eyes a minute later and looked around. The ambulance was small. And with both paramedics, the unconscious officer and himself inside, it felt even smaller. He watched as one of the paramedics started an IV and then gave the officer a shot of something near the bullet wound on his leg. "He gonna be ok?" he asked quietly, thankful that he didn't have to yell.

"He'll be up around in crutches in no time," the paramedic closest to him answered. "Now, let's take a look at you."

Josh winced again and turned his head as the paramedic, in new gloves, started poking around on his face. "I need to make a phone call."

"Later. This is a pretty bad gash you've got here."

"My phone's in my pocket. Can you just hit 1 and then talk and hold it up to my ear?"

"Let me take care of this first," the paramedic said distractedly, pulling something out of a box in the corner. "I'm gonna irrigate it so I can get a better look at it."

Josh jerked his head away. "No. I need to make the call first. You don't understand; she's got to be worried sick. I didn't pick up when she called. I always…" he trailed off as the paramedic looked at him. "I heard them say the riot team was going in. She's… please just let me call her and then you can do whatever you want."

The paramedic looked at him for several seconds. "I'm not supposed…" Josh gave him a pleading look and he sighed. "What pocket?"