Everybody Hurts

D.C.

---

When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
when you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on.
Don't let yourself go, everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes.

Sam switched off the light to his office and then gazed around
the empty bullpen. He never intended to stay this late, but once
again, his work kept him occupied and since he had nothing at home
that needed him, he felt no reason to go there. He was happy in the
office, writing where he was safe. Even when Toby yelled at him about
grammar, it was only about grammar. The two of them were friends
otherwise, and an occasional banter about punctuation versus imagery
was okay for them. He grabbed his jacket, closed the door and then
turned to leave when he noticed that Toby's light was still on.
"Toby?" Sam said softly as he leaned into his boss's office.
Toby was sitting in his chair facing the window when the younger man
stepped in. He cleared his throat and turned halfway to glance at
Sam. Sam could see how red his boss's eyes were. "Why are you still
here? You okay?"
"Yeah, fine. I could say the same about you, Sam. What are you
doing here?" Toby retorted gruffly as he turned completely and
started randomly sifting through papers on his desk. Sam frowned and
stepped forward.
"I was just about to go home when I saw your light on. What's
wrong, Toby?" He asked softly.
"Nothing's wrong, Sam. What makes you think anything is wrong?"
Toby retorted, his tone sharp and grumpy. Sam shrugged.
"You look tired. You should go home." He said. Toby shrugged.
"No, it's okay. You should though. I know you didn't last
night." He said.
"Neither did you." Sam pointed out.
"Go home, Sam." Toby said.
"What's going on?" Sam asked softly. Toby sighed and began
rubbing his brow, murmuring softly to himself.

Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along.
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
if you feel like letting go, (hold on)
when you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on.

"Could you just please, get out of my office?" Toby asked as he
looked up at the man who was crowding into his office at nine o'clock
at night. Sam watched Toby quietly.
"You okay, man?" He asked softly.
"No, I'm tired and I'm trying to work." Toby replied
honestly. "It's been a long day and I really don't . . . I don't need
to deal with talk right now." He added sharply. Sam frowned.
"What happened, Toby? Why are you so--" He started.
"Sam, please." Toby interrupted. "I've asked you nicely to just
leave. It's none of your business whatever the hell's going on with
my life and it would just be better if you went home."
"I don't see you going for your jacket." Sam retorted with a
steel jaw. Toby looked at him, his eyes red and almost seeming wet.
"Sam, just . . just go, okay? I'll be fine. I'm heading home in
a few minutes." The older man tried to assure the younger one.
"Come with me then. We can go get a drink." Sam suggested. Toby
sighed.
"Sam, I --" He started.
"Now, Toby." Sam interrupted. "We're gonna go get a drink and
then we're gonna both go home and get some sleep."
"Are you trying to handle me, Sam?" Toby asked softly.
"I wouldn't say that because I've never been so successful in
that venue. However, I am telling you that it would do you no good
not to listen to me at this point." Sam replied with a shrug. Toby
smiled weakly and got to his feet. Sam watched his boss as he crossed
the room and grabbed his jacket.
"Let's go." Toby said softly. Sam nodded and led the way out of
the room.

Everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends.
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand.
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone

The bar had barely anybody left in it and the noise level was
infinitesimal. Sam tried not to stare at his boss, but he found that
there was little else to look at in the large room. Toby was staring
into his drink, stirring it slightly with a small red stirrer and
chewing on his lip. He looked tired and haggard, as if he'd aged ten
years in the last twelve hours. There were dark circles under his red
eyes, circles that reflected the stress of his life, stress that Sam
could only begin to completely understand. Sam knew only his own
stress, his own dark circles and sleepless nights. He knew nothing of
Toby's, for Toby wanted no one to know.
Sam took a sip of his beer and glanced at his hands. Sometimes
silence could be deafening, and sometimes it could say more than
intended. He thought of the past few weeks in which so much had
happened. He thought of his father and the twenty-eight years of
lies. He thought of Ainsley and telling her that she was a blond
Republican woman and nobody liked her. He smiled weakly when he
thought of that. He thought of Josh and their conversations of late,
talking about the finality of everything they did. He thought of Toby
and how he had told CJ that Toby was his favorite writer. He meant
it. Glancing across the small table, he saw that his boss's eyes were
redder.
Toby himself didn't understand it. There was too much going on
inside his head. He could remember when he went home at the end of
the day to his wife and they would just hold each other in bed. He
could remember when his passion actually got him somewhere in his job
instead of in just one argument after the next. There was a life he
was destined to live, and if this was it, he wasn't feeling overly
happy with it. It was starting to bug him a little, as if he could
only wonder what he did to deserve an empty house and a lonely heart.
"I'd offer you a penny for your thoughts, but I think you have
plenty of pennies after the computer thing." Sam said softly. Toby
glanced at him and then back at his drink, smiling weakly.
"That stuff is running out. I haven't had much of an income
since then." He said softly. Sam nodded.
"Okay then, penny for your thoughts." He tried again. Toby
sighed.
"Sam, I don't . . ." He trailed off softly.
"I'm just asking you what you're thinking, Toby. I want to know
that you're okay." Sam said softly. Toby nodded.
"I'm not the type of person who's very open about that kind of
stuff, Sam." He replied finally.
"Tell me something I don't know." Sam replied. Toby chuckled
and then paused.
"Every day it's a struggle. I wake up in an empty house and I
come to work surrounded by both friends and enemies, then I go back
to the empty house and start all over again." He confessed. "Today
would have been my fifteenth wedding anniversary. Today would have
been a day when I could have held my wife in my arms and maybe watch
my son play in the front yard. Only I don't have a wife, and I'll
probably never have a son. I feel alone. Tired and alone."
"You're not alone, Toby." Sam said softly. "None of us are
really, because for some reason or another we have each other."
"I know. That's the only reason why I'm still here." Toby
replied softly. Sam looked at him sadly.

If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
when you think you've had too much of this life to hang on.

"Toby, what are you saying?" Sam asked softly. Toby chuckled
and shook his head before taking another sip of the scotch.
"No, Sam, I'm not talking about that ultimate way out. I'm not
so much of a coward." He said, his voice heavy in irony. "There are
just times when I wonder if it's all worth it, that maybe I should
quit my job and head back to Brooklyn for a while. Talk to David
again. I don't know."
"You're a part of this team, Toby. We need you." Sam said
softly. "I need you." Toby shook his head.
"No way I'd leave you in charge of the message of this
administration. People have been sent to prison for worse." He said
playfully. Sam pretended to pout and then smirked slightly.
"Well, I'm in the process of learning from the best." He said
with a twinkle in his eyes. Toby chuckled.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Sam." He replied before taking
another sip of his drink. Sam smiled and nodded slowly.
"Have you ever thought about it?" He asked suddenly but softly.
Toby looked at him and then shook his head.
"No. Never. Have you?" He replied just as softly, knowing
exactly what the younger man was talking about. Sam paused and then
shrugged.
"I suppose I have. There have been times when it all just
seemed like too much. I thought it was the best way out." He
explained.
"In that case, why didn't you do it?" Toby pointed out.
"Because there's always tomorrow. And there's always the day
after that." Sam said softly. Toby smirked.
"Whatever you say, Annie." He said. Sam paused.
"What?" He asked.
"You know, Annie. 'Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow,
you're always a day away'?" Toby pointed out.
"I thought it was 'only a day away'?" Sam said.
"I said 'always'." Toby replied with a shrug.
"I think it's 'only', Toby." Sam pointed out. Toby rolled his
eyes and sipped his drink again.
"It's always."
"Only."
"Always."
"Only."
"Want me to cut your salary in half?"
"Maybe it's always."
"That's better." There was a pause between them after the
debate came to an end. Then Toby looked at Sam with an almost
mournful look. "How do you deal with it now? I mean, you obviously
don't think about suicide any more."
"How can you be so sure?" Sam said softly before glancing at
Toby again. Toby blinked and then looked into his drink. "I'm still
here, Toby, because after all, there is *always* tomorrow." Toby
paused and then raised his glass. Sam clinked it with a smile and
then they both took a sip.

Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes.
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on. Hold on, hold on. Hold on, hold on.

They talked for a while, longer than either of them expected to
talk. They had never had a full-throat personal conversation like
this before. Sam was amazed to find out some of the more personal
insecurities his boss possessed and Toby was equally surprised to
learn of some of Sam's repressed feelings. Sam couldn't remember
quite how drunk he was when Toby gave him a lift home, but he did
notice how sober Toby seemed despite all their talking and drowning
of sorrows. As Toby helped Sam up to the apartment, the younger man
started thinking aloud.
"You're my friend, Toby." He murmured tiredly. Toby smiled and
fished Sam's keys out of his briefcase.
"Yes, I am, Sam." He said softly before opening the door and
carrying Sam in. He threw the briefcase against the wall next to the
door and then took Sam to his bedroom. Sam was practically asleep by
the time Toby got his shoes, tie and jacket off, and murmured happily
as Toby tucked him in.
"You feel better now, Toby?" Sam asked quietly as he drifted to
sleep. Toby smirked and brushed Sam's hair back.
"Sure do, kid. Go to sleep." He said softly before stepping
back and watching as Sam did so. With a final smirk, he turned and
left the apartment, feeling better than he had in ages.

Everybody hurts. You are not alone.

---

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