I, too, set my bags down and then headed to the living room to watch the Bartlet Victory coverage. New York. We’d won the whole damn state…the nomination was all but sewn up. I was halfway through watching a taped interview of me from three or four hours earlier when I heard Sam give a strangled sort of cry. I took the stairs two at a time and reached the bedroom in record time. The door was halfway open, and I could see Sam sitting on the bed. I approached slowly.

And then I saw the blood.

It covered most of the stark white sheets, the quilt Sam’s mother had made them in honour of their engagement…and the gun which had fallen to the floor, assumably from Lisa’s hand.

Sam’s shoulders were shaking as he sobbed silently. I felt like I’d throw up if I had to stay there anymore, the pungent scent of blood filling the air, the blood-covered body of a girl I’d dated who my best friend was about to marry right in front of me.

There were no words which could’ve passed between Sam and me that would’ve made any difference. So the only sound was the slightly audible catch as Sam drew in a shaky breath.

Then I saw the envelope which sat on the night stand on Sam’s side of the bed. “Sam…there’s a note…” I whispered. He didn’t answer. “…Do you, um…want me to read it?” He gave a barely noticeable nod. “Just…just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” I opened the envelope and took out the folded piece of paper, then started to read. “ ‘Dear Sam. I know you have to be shocked to find me like this, but I had to do this. I can’t ask you to understand my reasoning…but at least let me try.

“ ‘I saw you won New York. Congratulations. But you’ve already been gone so much, with the campaign and going from city to city, state to state, and when you won, I saw a vision of the future, of never getting to see you, of Bartlet becoming the president and you working until midnight every night only to come home and go back at six in the morning. And I don’t want that. But I knew I couldn’t look you in the eye and tell you I couldn’t marry you, that I couldn’t be the forgotten wife. So this is the only way I know to get out.

“ ‘Try not to mourn for me too long. I’m sorry, really I am. Love always, Lisa.’” I put down the letter. “Sam, I am so sorry…” I rubbed his back gently. “…I’m so sorry…” He gave another weak, nearly imperceptible nod, then turned to me with tearfilled eyes.

My heart broke just then, watching him in so much pain and agony. “…It’s…it’s my fault…” he whispered. “…I should’ve noticed she was so unhappy, but I - I was barely even here…” There was another shattering sound as my heart fell into even more pieces. God. To lose the woman he loved was bad enough, but to feel it was his fault must have been unbearable.

“…Let’s go downstairs,” I suggested gently. “…And I’ll get us some tea or coffee or something to drink, okay?” He gave another weak nod and I helped him off the bed, keeping my arm around his shoulders as I led him from the bedroom and closed the door behind us. I sat him down on the living room couch and he curled into a ball. I pulled a blanket over him. “I’ll go get -“

“Don’t go,” Sam whimpered, and I saw genuine fear in his eyes, as though I might abandon him as his fiance had done only a few hours before. “Please…Josh…don’t go…”

“I won’t leave…” I whispered, fighting back the tears which were pooling in my eyes. I had to be strong for him. Had to be strong for Sam. I sat down next to his head and he slid up the couch just enough to rest his head in my lap. I gently brushed a stray hair from his face and rubbed his arm. “…I promise you, I won’t leave…”