So when Josh asked him to join him for drinks after work, Sam didn’t hesitate. And he didn’t hold back as he usually did - drinking only one beer, maybe two - he went all out. He was pretty sure he was on drink six when Josh dragged him out…Or was that drink eight? It didn’t matter. Sam, Mr. studious Princeton lawyer, was a complete flyweight when it came to drinking- two beers and the room started to tilt a little. But 4, it was a guarantee that he’d be drunk off his ass and hungover the next day…six or eight was uncharted territory. But josh - who’d had his usual rum and Coke - managed to get his inebriated friend to the proper apartment and into bed before going back to his own place.

~*~*~*~

Sam groaned as he woke up. His head was throbbing like nothing he’d ever felt, and his stomach was about to rebel. He saw he was still in his shirt and pants from the pervious day, but his jacket, tie, and shoes had all been removed and placed neatly on a chair.

A note laid on the bedside table. “Sam - Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Leo and Cathy and cancel your day. Sleep. Be hungover. Whatever. Just don’t come in ‘til you can stand without falling. -Josh.”

He realized he must’ve been pretty plastered to not even remember Josh being at his apartment. That surprised him, as he didn’t get drunk often - mostly because he didn’t drink so much often. Mallory had once compared him to a character from “The Outsiders” - “[He] just gets drunk on plain living.”

Damn. There was her name again. He had to forget…

~*~*~*~

A month later, the only place he wasn’t drinking was the Oval Office, or a meeting with someone else of importance. His friends - all excessively busy with preparations for the upcoming state dinner with the president of the Federated States of Micronesia - overlooked it if they noticed anything at all. In fact, the list of people who noticed anything included only Cathy - and ergo a fair number of secretaries - Josh, and Danny Concannon with his reporter intuition. Toby noticed something seemed…out of sorts with Sam, but so had gone his story since just before the shooting, around the time of the Laurie Thing.

The Laurie Thing. That was another instance which was getting to Sam. Everywhere he went, it seemed, people spoke in hushed tones as passed, and he occasionally heard snippets of conversations.

All of which, of course, did nothing to curb his thirst for liquor. How he functioned so well, he wasn’t sure, but that fact was his saving grace.

On the night of the state dinner, after having written a toast which contained just enough verbs for Toby’s taste, decked out in coat, tails, and white tie, he and Josh walked down to the great hall. Josh immediately peeled off to talk to his secretary, who looked stunning in a sky blue satin dress with a blue and silver lace overlay. Sam headed first to the bar for his white wine, then went to his table and sat down, not noticing who was also there until he was already sipping the drink. “Hello, Sam.”

He nearly choked. “Mallory? What…What are you doing here?”

“My father invited me.” She remained stone-faced, and Sam began to wish he’d ordered something stronger. It was going to be a long night.

And long it was. Mallory watched him down at least seven drinks in two hours - she lost count. As she joined up with her father, she asked him,” Dad, how long as Sam been drinking so much?” She eyed her friend from across the room and noticed he still looked completely lucid - not the least bit sloshed.

“What? Baby, don’t worry about him. He’s smart enough to take care of himself,” Leo assured her.

“He polished off three drinks in the first forty minutes.” She bit back the phrase, “That’s even more than you used to drink.”

“It’s a party, Mallory, he’s fine.”

“Okay,” she said shortly. “I’m gonna go eat.” She went back to the table just as a slow, beautiful concerto began to play. The President held out his hand to the first lady and led her onto the floor, waltzing with her with all the grace of a young man just out of charm school. A few important people followed, including Josh, who danced off to the side with Donnatella Moss.

“May I have this dance?” Mallory looked up and saw Sam standing beside her, his hand held out to her.

“I don’t know, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“How many drinks have you had?” He looked slightly sheepish. “You shouldn’t drink so much.”

“I’m fine, Mallory.”

“Yeah, I just…That’s one thing of a very short list that I worry about.” She looked away and Sam followed her gaze to Leo, who was smiling as he watched the first couple dancing.

“Mallory, I’m fine, really. It’s not like that.”

“Okay.” She nodded, clearly unconvinced.

“So. May I have this dance?”

“Yes,” she agreed. She was no longer angry with him. Quite the opposite. She felt sorry for him.

*****

With Mallory not being mad at him anymore, the world looked a fair about brighter. Enough better, in fact, that when he went out with the group for drinks the next, he had only one drink. He fell asleep in front of his television, watching a baseball game.

He awoke three hours later, his mind in a panic. He was shaking so badly he could barely move, and ghastly images danced before him. Not even knowing what he was doing, he dialed Mallory's phone number, but dropped the phone because his hands were trembling so severely.

~*~*~*~

Mallory was woken out of a sound sleep by the ringing of the telephone. She rolled over and fumbled for it before answering groggily. "H-lo?" No answer, just a strange thudding noise. "Hello?" When silence greeted her, she hung up, but as she placed the receiver back in the cradle, she noticed the slight illumination of the caller ID box. She gave a slight gasp as she recognized the number. Throwing on a jacket and jeans as quickly as she could and grabbing her keys, she dashed out of her apartment and to her car.

~*~*~*~

Pushing open the door in frustration, Mallory went from room to room to find Sam. He was hudlded in his bed, still shaking, whimpering something about ghosts. Forcing down her sense of déjà vu, she sat on the edge of the bed and gently took on of his hands in her own. He started to lash out at something she could not see, and she held him back, gently pinning his arms against him as she slowly rocked him back and forth.

Leo jumped as Mallory closed the door to his office, breaking the silence. "Hello, Father," she said shortly.

"Hey, baby, what's wrong?"

"Sam."

"Listen, I have done nothing wrong this time, he brought whatever it is upon himself."

"It's not something you've done, but you might be able to help…"

Leo realized why his daughter had come to see him. "Mallory, short of dragging him to AA with me, I don't believe any of what I do would help."

Mallory tilted her head in through. "Do you remember…God, it must've been 15 years ago because I was 13…When Mom, as a last-ditch effort to make you stop drinking hid all the alcohol in the house? And you went into deprivation shock and were up most of the night screaming at imaginary things? And I sat with you all night because Mom was fed up with you?" Leo looked down. "That's what happened to Sam last night. He called me at 3 in the morning…screaming and whimpering and lashing out at something that was haunting him…And I know you have a better idea of how to help him than I do, help me, please!" Her father stared at her as she finished her desperate plea.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Mallory."

"He needs help, Dad."

"But what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Well, what have you been doing?"

"The same thing I did with you," she said quietly. "I told him he shouldn't drink so much, he, of course, ignored me…and when he called last night, I rushed over there and tried to calm him down…But I think he had more to drink when I fell asleep for like a half hour…"

"It's possible." Leo looked grim. "I know you don't want to hear this, Mal, but until he's decided he wants your help, you can't really do anything. But I'll try to talk to him."

"Thanks, Dad." She smiled and started to leave, then remembered something. "You…When you came back home you…you said something I'd forgotten about until last night. Mom and I had spent all day scrubbing and cleaning the house, but the second you walked in the door…you looked around…"

"What did I say?"

"You said 'It smells like the house is drowning in booze.'" She paused. "I never understood what you meant, but…That's what it was like at Sam's." After a moment, she turned again and left.

~*~*~*~

"You wanted to see me, Leo?"

"Yeah, Sam, sit down." He did. "I spoke to Mallory yesterday. She's worried about you."

"You talked to -She told you - I - Leo -"

"I'm sorry I didn't see it before. But Sam, this is serious stuff you're doing to yourself."

"It's not drugs, Leo." Sam bit his lip as Leo gave him a look of death. "I don't mean - I -"

"I already hurt her once with that, Sam, and I know you care about her. But don't do this to her."

~*~*~*~

Mallory jumped at the loud, thudding knocks on her door. She opened it to reveal Sam, who was mad as a wet hen. "You went to your father?" he demanded as he stormed in.

"Sam -"

"Or was it that you went to my boss?"

"Listen -"

"Are you trying to get back at me for the thing with Laurie or something? Or does being evil just run in your family?"

"Since you're drunk, I'll ignore that you said that," Mallory said in a tense voice. "But you need help, Sam."

"I do NOT need help! Just leave me alone."

"Sam -"

"I said leave me alone!" He smacked her hard across the face, and it seemed as though time stopped then. She stared at him, he stared down at his hands, as though neither one could believe he was capable of doing what he'd just done.

He didn't move to comfort her, didn't make an attempt at words, just brushed past her and left.

~*~*~*~

That night, six hours later, she still couldn't believe he'd hit her. No one ever had…not ever…And SAM of all people…

The phone rang. "Hello?" she asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"Mallory, just don't hang up, okay?"

"Sam…"

"I wanted to apologize…" Muffled noise, curse… "I've gotta go. My plane's boarding."

"Your plane? To where?"

"Sierra-Tucson. I'll see you in a month, give or take…g'bye." He hung up, leaving Mallory staring at the phone.

~*~*~*~

"Daddy?" From his desk chair, Mallory looked too small and weak to be the strong daughter he knew normally. She held a crumpled Kleenex in one hand, and tears glistened from her cheeks, one of which was bruising badly.

"Mallory?" He stood up and walked to her. "What happened?" He tried to hug her, but she turned away.

"Just wait until I've told you the whole story before you say anything, okay?"

"Baby -"

"Okay?"

"I…Yes, Okay."

She began in a strong voice, but it trailed off toward the end. "I assume when you asked what happened that you were referring to my crying and the bruise. I…I know you said we don't need to worry about Sam, but I DO worry about him, so I thought coming to you was right, but…but Sam didn't think so…he was mad…"

"He hit you?"

"Dad…"

Leo grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and started to storm out. "He is NOT going to go around hitting my daughter! You -"

"He's not here, daddy."

"Damn right he's not, I'm going -"

"Not in Washington, Dad."

"What?" For the first time, he turned back to face his daughter.

"He's on his way to Sierra-Tucson," she said quietly.

"To…He's going to rehab." It wasn't a question - or a statement, really - just the thoughts spoken out loud.

"Yes."

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Yes."

"Well then. I think I'll get back to work."

A thought occurred to Mallory. "I'll be back."

~*~*~*~

"Mal, what the hell are you talking about?" Josh demanded.

"Exactly what I said, Josh."

"But I mean…it was THAT bad?"

"Don't even tell me you didn't notice."

"No, I…I noticed, bit it was more like he'd have a few too many beers after work, but at work he was as fine as he had been since right around the shooting…" Josh shrugged. "I guess we were all just preoccupied with our own agendas."

"Yeah."

"When you talk to him, tell him I say hey, okay? And if he needs anything, he can call me."

"Absolutely."

~*~*~*~

"Sir? Do you have a minute?"

"Of course, Leo, sit down."

"I spoke to Sam, he's coming home in two days."

"That's very good news. He sounded better?"

"Yes, sir, he did."

The President leaned back in his chair. "Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me something?"

"It's just something he said to me…It's nothing really…" A pause. "He said he thinks of me like a father."

"He might be your son-in-law some day, Leo."

"You enjoy bringing that up, don't you, Sir?" Leo asked, smiling.

"Every chance I get."

~*~*~*~

"Okay, guys, listen up!" Leo called to the staff of the west wing, who were busily setting up for Sam's welcoming party. "I've got a note about food." Everyone dropped what they were doing, as that was the most important part. "Nothing is to be consumed tonight that's stronger than a Coke. I don't even want to see the stuff."

"But Leo -"

"Don't 'but Leo' me, Bonnie. I'm telling you what WILL happen tonight. And anyone who thinks I'm just messing with you? Go ahead and test me. The last thing Sam needs is to be surrounded by things he can't have. So consider yourselves warned. CJ? I see one bottle in here…"

"And you'll blame me?"

"Yes."

"Where's Mallory?" someone asked.

"At the airport with Sam."

~*~*~*~

His heart leapt into his throat as he stepped into the terminal and saw the familiar face. Her dark, eager eyes had just enough worry in them to ache at him even more, a nervous smile was on her lips. In a matter of a few strides, he managed to reach her and sweep her into a tight hug. I'm sorry," he whispered, tears beginning down his cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry…I didn't mean what I did, I really didn't…"

"Sam, it's okay," she whispered back. "Really…it wasn't your fault…"

"It was ALL my fault," he said, more downcast than before.

"Yes, it was," she agreed. "But that's over now."