Perfect Timing


Amanda N.

---

"Sir, all I'm saying is give her another chance," Sam pleaded with
the President as they walked into the Oval Office. 'Okay, so she
saved my ass on that memo, and I kind if owe her one,' he thought
silently.

"I don't know, Sam," POTUS began, trepidation lacing his
voice. "Every time I meet her she's either dancing in bath robes or
using Leo's closet as a restroom. I would love to take away that bit
of embarrassment for her, but if you tell her, she'll get nervous.
If you don't, she could be dancing in bath robes."

"I'll tell you what," he said, sliding his glasses on and going over
the folder Charlie handed him. "You stay with her in her office, and
I'll come by sometime today. That way, you can keep a lid on her."

Sam frowned. "How am I supposed to..."

"Sam," The President cut off, "You're a smart man. I'm sure you'll
think of something." He turned to Mrs. Landingham, dismissing
Sam. "What's next?"





"Ainsley?" Sam called, rapping lightly on her partially open door.

"Yeah," came the distinct southern reply.

He pushed the door open the rest of the way only to be blasted by a
wave of warm air. "God, it's like a sauna down here."

She looked up from her papers, glasses perched on the end of her
nose. "Yeah. Then again, with a name like 'Steam Pipe Distribution
Venue' what can you expect?" she asked, sarcastically.

Ignoring her statement, he walked further into the office and dropped
a folder down in font of her, his eyes hesitating ever so slightly at
the three unfastened buttons of her top. "Anyway, I need you to
summarize this."

She cocked her head with an annoyed glance. "You know, I'm not your
personal servant."

"Yep, I know. But your boss works for my boss, so technically, if
you do the math, I'm like your boss."

She glared at him another minute before giving in. "Fine. What
needs to be done?"

"Twenty-three pages into two or three, with a lack of you reversing
my position," he said, taking a seat in the plastic chair in front of
her desk.

Ainsley scanned his 'memo', not daring to bring up that this time,
his position didn't look to far off track. "Fine," she repeated.
Noticing he hadn't left yet, she spoke up again. "Sam, leave," she
commanded.

"Yeah right!" he replied, "And give you the chance to reverse my
position. I don't think so, Ainsley."

She sighed, losing patience. "Sam, I will not reverse your position,
okay?" He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "I think I'll just
stay and make sure you don't."

He opened his lap top he'd brought down and began typing, glancing
over at Ainsley ever so often, to make sure she was still composed
for their little 'meeting'.





Over an hour later, Jackson Hewitt entered the room, an apologetic
look on his face. "What is it Jackson?" Ainsley asked, while Sam
watched, not having any clue as to who he was.

"Ainsley, I'm sorry, but the rest of us, well, we were wondering if
you could close your door," he said softly.

"Jackson, it's 103 degrees in here."

"That's the point. Your heating the rest of the floor."

She raised her eyebrow. "The closest office is Tiffany's. She keeps
her door closed and music blaring. I doubt she'll notice." Ainsley
looked back down at her work, dismissing him. "Ainsley..." he began.

"Fine, just go. I've got things to do," she almost shouted at him.
He scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

After a few minutes passed she looked up. "Sam, he's gone. Open the
door."

He would have put up more of a fight, just to be contrary, but it was
sweltering. His undershirt was already soaked through. He could
only imagine Ainsley's must have been drenched from being down here
so long. 'Woah, where'd that come from?'

Sam walked to the door and turned the knob, having it stop at half
turn. He tried again. "Ainsley," he said, his voice growing
increasingly panicked. She looked up and told him to try
again. "It's stuck. Do you have a key or anything?"

"No," she replied, getting back to her work. "Listen, Sam. Mr.
Tribbey will be here in a few hours to pick up the things I was
supposed to be working on. We can leave then."

Sam didn't move. "Ainsley," he began, his voice quiet. "I don't do
good in small places."

"You were fine earlier," she contradicted.

"But that was when I knew we could get out." This was of course, the
perfect time for Tiffany's music to pop on, drowning out any chance
of calling for help.

Ainsley raised her head to tell him to chill out, when she realized
the genuinely frightened look on his face. She stood and closed the
distance between them. "Sam?" she asked quietly. "Hey, it's
alright. I'll call someone to come get the door, okay?" She got
about a step closer to the phone when the lights buzzed and went
out. "Damn it!" she cursed. Managing to stumble over the chair, she
reached the lamp and smacked it a few times, resulting in the lights
coming back, half way. She gave him an small look. "It happens a
lot," she tried to reassure him.

Sam managed a swift nod tried to slow his breathing as Ainsley picked
up the phone. Her face was blank for a moment as she listened to the
dial tone on the other end. "It must have gone out with the power."

Sam slid to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Sam,
it'll be okay," she said as she sat down next to him. She placed a
hand over his arm to try and calm him. No such luck. 'Okay. What
do I do? What calms me?'

"Sam!" she began, standing as realization dawned on her. "Want some
potato chips?"

He looked at her and couldn't help the smile that spread across his
face as Ainsley pulled out a bag of Ruffles from her drawer. "I
always knew you had to have a secret stash," he joked.

Ainsley retook her seat next to him and opened the bag. They sat in
silence for a while, only interrupted by the crunching of the chips.
She looked over at him, surprised to see him still shivering. "Okay,
Sam. This is in no way to be misconstrued as me liking you, alright?"

He didn't manage a response. Ainsley reached up and began loosening
his tie. "What are you doing?" he asked softly. "What does it look
like? I'm taking of your tie and shirt so you won't feel as, you
know, restricted or whatnot." He let her slip his tie off and peel
him out of his now damp dress shirt.

"What about you? Aren't you hot?" he asked, motioning to her
business suit. In reply, she took off her jacket and pulled her hair
back in a sloppy ponytail.

Ainsley drew Sam's head down into her lap. For a moment, he was
stiff, the relaxed under her touch and stretched out as much as
possible. He let her run her hands through his dampened hair and
suddenly, the shivers subsided. His muscles relaxed and he thought
of how glad he was she was with him.

She looked down at him, continuing to stroke his hair, thinking of
how tough he always tried to be, even though he was the baby of the
Senior Staff. Now, he was so vulnerable, almost child like. Maybe
this was the beginning of a bipartisan understanding on their part.

She watched as his breathing slowed and regulated. She had just made
Sam Seaborn fall asleep in her lap. Ainsley almost laughed aloud,
but was glad she could provide comfort for him. And he did look like
he could use the sleep.

She could hear footsteps coming from the hallway and muffled
voices. 'Oh, no. Mr. Tribbey,' she thought. She tried to move but
it was to late. The door creaked open and light filtered in from the
hall. "Mrs. Hayes," The President announced, shocked at the scene in
front of him. Sam was asleep in Ainsley's lap. There were articles
of clothing scattered about and a suspicious bag of potato chips.

"Mr. President... sir," she began, then looked down to see if she had
awoken Sam, which immediately calmed her. "Sir, what brings you down
here?" she asked, her tone visibly more relaxed. She looked over his
shoulder to see CJ, Toby, Josh, Leo and Abbey.

"Well," he began, a puzzled look still on his face. "Sam convinced
me to meet you again and said he would keep you company until I came,
to make sure you stayed calm and didn't start dancing. But then I
thought, 'Wouldn't it be great if everyone came down to show their
support?'. So we did. Although, it looks like we interrupted
something."

Ainsley took her prompt. "Sam stayed with me. Then well, we
realized the door was locked. Which he doesn't particularly cope
well with. So I tried to get him to relax with the uh, chips. Then,
I know you've probably realized the temperature down here, so I had
him take off his shirt. Sir, I would appreciate it if no one
mentioned this to him. It could be extremely embarrassing. And I do
know about those sorts of situations."

Sam's body began to stir lightly, to which Ainsley's immediate
response was to place her hand back on his head and begin stroking
his hair.

"No, no I don't think we will. Ainsley, it was nice seeing you
again. And thank you for looking out for our Deputy."

"See," Josh spoke up. "You're getting him out of his famous scraps.
You're becoming more and more a part of the team everyday."

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