fire upon the walls of Gaza
Title: fire upon the walls of Gaza
Rating: PG
Category: Josh, Josh/Donna
Spoilers: Gaza
Word Count: 303
Author's Notes: For shutterbug_12 at ww_stockings
So I will send fire upon the wall of Gaza
And it will consume her citadels.
Amos 1: 7
---
In his head, there are sirens. They start up the second he sees the news.
Andy’s on the phone, and on TV, and she’s okay. But Donna. Donna. Donna was in the car.
(He sees the black suburban explode, burst into flames. Over and over.)
No one will tell him anything.
---
The sirens don’t fade.
He spends the better part of twenty minutes on hold, passed around between doctors and nursing stations and hospitals before he gets any answer at all. Stable enough to move, he hears, and he wants to be encouraged. But really, that sounds ambiguous, uncertain. Ominous.
A shy young intern brings him a post it note and gets snapped at for her trouble.
Mr. & Mrs. Moss, WI, he dials, and the numbers ring in his ears. Deafening.
“Hello,” a woman picks up. Cheerful.
“Mrs. Moss?” his voice breaks. “Mrs. Moss, It’s Josh. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
She drops the phone.
The hospital calls back.
---
It crescendoes.
He follows the senior staff, but he isn’t with them. There are no merits to this discussion on military action, no choice. So he, too, explodes like the suburban.
This isn’t an opportunity; this is war.
Kill them. Kill them all, is the only thought he grasps.
In his heart, he believes it. Leo understands.
The President may need him, but she needs him more.
So Leo sets him free.
---
This time the sirens are real.
He’s on his way to Dulles when he passes an accident on the side of the road. Rescue vehicles everywhere in a scene too eerie to be coincidence. Paramedics load a passenger into the ambulance and he scoffs, silently. Accident is the worst possible euphemism.
Four red lights stand between him and the airport.
He doesn’t stop for any of them.
---
Rating: PG
Category: Josh, Josh/Donna
Spoilers: Gaza
Word Count: 303
Author's Notes: For shutterbug_12 at ww_stockings
So I will send fire upon the wall of Gaza
And it will consume her citadels.
Amos 1: 7
---
In his head, there are sirens. They start up the second he sees the news.
Andy’s on the phone, and on TV, and she’s okay. But Donna. Donna. Donna was in the car.
(He sees the black suburban explode, burst into flames. Over and over.)
No one will tell him anything.
---
The sirens don’t fade.
He spends the better part of twenty minutes on hold, passed around between doctors and nursing stations and hospitals before he gets any answer at all. Stable enough to move, he hears, and he wants to be encouraged. But really, that sounds ambiguous, uncertain. Ominous.
A shy young intern brings him a post it note and gets snapped at for her trouble.
Mr. & Mrs. Moss, WI, he dials, and the numbers ring in his ears. Deafening.
“Hello,” a woman picks up. Cheerful.
“Mrs. Moss?” his voice breaks. “Mrs. Moss, It’s Josh. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
She drops the phone.
The hospital calls back.
---
It crescendoes.
He follows the senior staff, but he isn’t with them. There are no merits to this discussion on military action, no choice. So he, too, explodes like the suburban.
This isn’t an opportunity; this is war.
Kill them. Kill them all, is the only thought he grasps.
In his heart, he believes it. Leo understands.
The President may need him, but she needs him more.
So Leo sets him free.
---
This time the sirens are real.
He’s on his way to Dulles when he passes an accident on the side of the road. Rescue vehicles everywhere in a scene too eerie to be coincidence. Paramedics load a passenger into the ambulance and he scoffs, silently. Accident is the worst possible euphemism.
Four red lights stand between him and the airport.
He doesn’t stop for any of them.
---