Technicolor
Part 2

MC

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An hour later, CJ, Leo, Josh and Toby waited impatiently outside the ICU. They watched several doctors enter and leave in rapid succession. Leo and CJ sat in the ubiquitous blue plastic waiting room chairs. Josh paced the room. Toby spoke quietly into his cell phone for a few minutes, then returned to the group. He looked at the worried faces of his colleagues, and cleared his throat before he spoke.
"I've told Bonnie and Ginger not to give out information to anyone who calls the Communications office asking about Sam. CJ, we'll need you to issue a statement at the next briefing. It's common knowledge that Sam left the West Wing on a gurney, so the press will be clamoring for the story. At this point, let's just tell them he's stable, awake and tests are being done."
Leo added softly, "I'll get Ron to have his guys up here so the Press doesn't get in. The hospital put Sam on the VIP list so they know not to release his location or condition to anyone who calls--" He halted when a young nurse appeared in front of the group.
"Hi, I'm Linda. Mr. Seaborn is asking to see a Toby Ziegler. Is he here?"
Toby nodded and followed her back to Sam's room. He paused outside the door and composed himself. He didn't want Sam to see the depth of his worry.
Sam smiled when Toby entered the room. "Hey, Toby. I hope I didn't cause a PR disaster with the ambulance thing." Sam looked pale and fragile surrounded by the machines, but better than Toby expected.
"It's no problem Sam. What did they tell you?"
"They really don't know what's going on yet."
"Sam--"
"Toby, really. The bleeding has stopped. I feel a little tired but otherwise okay. It could be a number of things at this point." He took a deep breath and motioned Toby to sit down.
"One of the things is leukemia, which is why I wanted to talk to you first. I'd like it if you could help me to decipher the medical jargon. Andi told me you did a lot of research when your son was sick."
"That was a while ago, Sam. Things have changed."
"Toby, they told me my platelet count was twenty thousand. They call that 'severe thrombocytopenia.' What does that mean?"
Toby hesitated for just a moment. Hearing numbers like that again brought a flood of painful memories. "The low end of normal is about one hundred fifty thousand. It varies a bit from lab to lab. Twenty thousand is pretty bad. That low of a count puts you at risk for spontaneous bleeding, or significant bleeding from what would otherwise be minor trauma. Platelets help blood clot and stop bleeding.
Toby gestured to the IV bags hanging at Sam's side. "They can give you transfusions of platelets to keep it higher, but your body may destroy them."
Sam nodded his understanding. "You know, I wish I'd taken more biology classes in college." He took a breath and continued, "My white blood cell counts are low as well. They're looking for infection and for other causes of that. They've drawn about twenty tubes of blood to test for HIV and a number of other unusual infections."
Toby paused for a moment. He hadn't considered something like HIV.
"Sam, you don't think the HIV could be positive?" Toby's voice betrayed his concern.
"No. My only risk factor is heterosexual sex--"
"-Which you've had with at least one prostitute that the world knows of-"
"It was safe, Toby. I really don't want to go there with you. Besides, I got tested two months ago at my routine physical and it was negative. I haven't had any exposure since then."
"Okay. Let's stop that line of discussion, 'cause I really don't want to know. I have some friends, some doctors I know because of Benji, and because of the leukemia foundation that Andi and I work with, who I'd like to ask to help. Is it okay with you if they talk to your doctors?"
"Yes, that's fine." Sam didn't say it, but his eyes conveyed his thanks for the gesture.
"What have they got planned next, Sam?"
"They're waiting for some labs and the report on the blood smears."
"Yeah. I'm going to send Josh in before he puts his hand through a wall in the waiting room."
"Toby?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." Toby stepped to Sam's side and squeezed his hand gently. Then he took the red rubber ball out of his pocket and put it in Sam's hand.
Sam glanced down in surprise. Toby was gone when he looked up again.
Sam spoke briefly with CJ, Josh and Leo. He explained what he knew and what was planned. Then he sent them home to rest. He knew that they wanted to stay, but they all looked exhausted.
He called his parents and let them know the situation. He downplayed the events and assured them they didn't need to fly in from California. They knew he was wasn't fine, but they respected his wishes.
Sam's next call was the most difficult. He called Andi to ask her to check in on Toby. He'd be relying on Toby's help for the next few days, and was sure it would bring up unhappy memories because of his son. She agreed without hesitation and that made Sam feel much better.
Mrs. Bartlet called to check on him and to ask if she could talk to his doctors. Sam consented, but he began to worry about his doctors. The White House Senior Staff, the First Lady, and in essence, the President, would be breathing down their necks.


Late that night, after everyone was gone, Sam was alone with his thoughts. The quiet hum of surrounding monitors and the background hospital noises kept him awake. He thought about the past few weeks of his life. Before he'd become ill, his greatest health concern was making time for regular exercise. His body was young and strong, and it withstood his frantic lifestyle without complaint. That could all change. He wasn't sure how he would deal with that prospect. He wasn't sure how his friends and family would deal with it either.
He admitted that not knowing what was happening was really the scariest part for him. He depended on knowledge to guide him. Not having all the information about a situation always terrified him. Waiting for other people to supply the answers was maddening.
His thoughts halted when a young nurse entered to take his temperature and record his vital signs. She was very attractive. Sam instinctively flashed her his best flirtatious smile. He wanted to feel normal.
The smile the nurse gave him in return was businesslike. After she left, Sam thought it might be that she was just too professional to respond. That was certainly possible. It was also possible, he mused, that she'd learned not to flirt with men who were going to die soon. That thought haunted his dreams during the night.


Josh appeared at Sam's bedside in the early hours of the morning. Sam woke to find him sitting in the chair next to his bed, watching him intently.
"Hey, Josh. How long have you been here?"
"Not long. How are you?"
"I feel like a pin cushion 'cause of all the needles. And before you tell me how lame that sounds, just let me tell you that it's true. "
Josh leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "You know you scared the hell out of me."
"I'm sorry, Josh."
"Was it this bad for you when I was shot?"
"You were unconscious for a long time, Josh. It was different."
"I don't remember much about the first few days."
"That would be because you were unconscious..."
"Sam, you are a smart-ass."
"Yes. You've been a bad influence."
Josh smiled at that comment. It was true. "I've got to get to the Wing. Anything I can do for you?"
"No. I'm fine."
Josh stood to leave. "Sam, if they ask you, I told them I was your brother so they'd let me in here. The rules really only allow family to visit. I don't think they'd care that I work for the President."
"Probably not. But you are my family. If you can come back tonight, I need to talk to you about a few things."
"Sure." Josh heard a serious note in Sam's voice and it unsettled him. He wanted to leave before his thoughts showed on his notoriously poor 'poker face.' He needed more time to deal with his emotions.
"Take care, Sam. I'll call you later."
The Communications Bullpen was strangely quiet over the next two days. Toby came in early every morning and completed his own work as well as Sam's. Then he locked himself in the small communications conference room and surrounded himself with every form of information he could find on the causes of thrombocytopenia. He harassed every physician he knew. He used the President's name to get access to every expert in the field he couldn't access directly. He yelled at everyone who wasn't Sam.
In the evenings he visited Sam, and went over the events of the day. The nurses jokingly referred to him as "Dr. Ziegler," because he commandeered the lab reports and studied them with fervor.
Toby arrived as the evening nurses assembled for their shift. He watched with some satisfaction as they scurried out of his path. They'd learned not to question his presence or get in his way over the past few nights.
Sam slept quietly. Toby settled himself in a chair in the corner and pulled out his notes.
CJ told him Sam would be tired. They'd been doing tests all day.
Toby worked quietly for an hour. Then he left briefly to get some coffee.
When he returned, Sam was awake and a nurse was adjusting the IV line in his arm. Sam flinched in pain. Toby stepped to the side of the bed and glared at the nurse.
She finished quickly and left the room.
"Hey, Toby."
"Hey, Sam. Are you okay?"
"Yes, there was just some problem with the IV tubing." He gestured briefly at the coils of plastic snaking from his arm. "How are things at work?"
"Things are fine. I'm actually in favor with the President still because he liked my idea for Abby's birthday present. So he's not yelling at me. And that's always good. Josh is a bit crazed."
Toby dropped the comment about Josh without thinking. Sam picked it up.
"Toby, is he okay? You know how freaked he is about hospitals after the shooting, and he's spent a lot of time here with me."
"He's fine, Sam. Stop worrying about other people." Toby's voice was a bit harsh.
"Toby I---"
--"Sam, just try to go back to sleeep. I'll be here working."
Sam thought about arguing. But he was just too tired. He settled back into his pillows and closed his eyes.


In the quiet night of the West Wing, Josh brooded in his office. He felt buried in the work he'd neglected. He felt guilty that he wasn't with Sam. Donna appeared at his door.
"Josh, you need to eat something." Donna picked up her rant from two hours ago.
"I'm not hungry, Donna."
"It doesn't matter. You need to eat."
Josh didn't bother to banter back. Donna realized what that meant. He was too sad to banter. This was his way of telling her.
She stepped into his office and closed the door. "Josh, Sam will be okay."
"You don't know that Donna. No one knows that."
"I mean that whatever it is, however it ends up, he'll be okay if we help him."
She crossed to Josh's couch and sat down quietly.
He looked up at her and realized for the first time how tired she looked. She's been watching over me, he thought. Who's been watching over her?
"He gave me a copy of his will, Donna. He made me sign as Power of Attorney for health care decisions in case he gets too sick. He made me promise not to allow heroic measures if this is terminal and there's a point where there's no hope. He's only been in the hospital a few days and they don't even know what's wrong." Josh's voice broke on the last words.
Donna didn't answer for a moment. This was more than Josh had said for days. He'd communicated in terse monosyllabic replies, even to the President. He did his job, but he wasn't really there.
"He's just being Sam. You know he likes to be prepared."
The response jolted him for a moment. If she'd used another tone it would have seemed a cold comment. But it was true, and she was trying to help him understand.
Josh got up from his desk and sat next to her on the sofa. Then he did the only thing he could think to do. He opened his arms and enveloped her in a hug. For that moment, they made no pretense that they were 'just' a boss and his assistant. They were Donna and Josh. They were in pain. They were together. That made it a little less painful.
Leo watched quietly through the open door. He'd been ready to knock, but changed his mind and walked away. His small smile was barely visible as he retreated quietly down the hall.
Josh sent Donna home shortly after that. He felt guilty for keeping her late. He felt guilty that she was always taking care of him. He decided he needed to think more about that when this crisis with Sam was over.
A soft knock sounded on the door frame of Josh's office.
Josh didn't look up. "Go the hell away."
"Josh."
Josh startled and made a weak attempt to stand when he recognized the President's voice.
"Mr. President."
"Josh, about your suggestions for Abby's birthday... They still suck."
"I did try, sir."
Bartlet smiled slightly and settled himself on Josh's couch. "Josh, let me tell you a story."
"Oh, God," Josh mumbled.
"What's that, Josh?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Twenty years ago, my best friend came to me and told me they'd found a 'spot' on his lung on a routine x-ray. He told me they thought it was cancer. They told him to get his affairs in order. He came to me and told me that. I listened to him and reassured him that it was probably nothing. After he left, I cried for an hour. I cried because I was sad for him. But now, twenty years later, I can admit that I cried for myself as well. I was scared of being without him. You see, he's always balanced me out. When I go off on poetic tangents, he reminds of the cold, hard facts that get me through life and help me do my job. When I get on my soapbox to preach about injustice, he reminds me that you have to accept a little injustice without pissing everyone off so that you can try to fix the big things."
Bartlet paused to see if Josh understood. Josh's silence and the sad glint in his eyes told him he did.
He took a breath and continued. "I don't know how I'd do it without him. Luckily the 'spot' was just a spot and Leo's been fine. I'm telling you this now because I want you to understand now, and not twenty years later. Bad things happen to good people, Josh. The only good thing that comes of it is that it makes us realize how important they are to us. I'm going now. Just thought you might want to hear that."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
Bartlet nodded and left Josh alone with his thoughts.


Sam remained stable and was moved out of the ICU and into a regular room late the next day. He remained weak, but was well enough to be bored.
CJ knocked on his door a moment after he'd flung the remote for the TV across the room in frustration. The hospital did not have cable, and reruns of Oprah were not his thing.
"Hey, Sam. Am I bothering you?"
"No, CJ. Please come in. I'm dying of boredom."
"That's good Sam. If you're bored, then you must be better. I brought you some magazines."
She placed a stack of magazines on the table. It was an eclectic selection ranging from 'George' to 'Newsweek' to 'Cosmopolitan.'
He smiled at her. "You brought me Cosmo?"
CJ shrugged. "Men read it 'cause they want to know what women think. And they drool over the models. I understand these things, you know." She gave him her best smirk.
"You can always say I bought it for myself and left it here."
"There's a guy law against admitting that, you know?"
"I know. Sam, are you really okay?" Her voice lost its teasing note.
" I don't have any new information CJ. Believe me, Toby and the First Lady are making sure the doctors don't miss anything."
"Yeah, I heard the nurses in the hall. None of them like to be here when Toby visits 'cause he scares them."
Sam nodded at her. It was nice to know that his friends cared so much.
"Any disasters at work, CJ?"
"Nope, not a one."
Sam looked at her closely. She was telling the truth. He idly reached for a magazine.
CJ snagged the Cosmo and settled into her chair. They read in companionable silence for twenty minutes. Sam felt the exhaustion sweep over him like a wave. He'd had a long day, but he didn't want to fall asleep during CJ's visit.
CJ looked up and noted his heavy lids.
"Sam, it's okay. Go to sleep."
She reached over and squeezed his hand briefly. He held it there.
"Stay for a while, CJ," Sam murmured sleepily.
She pulled her chair to his side and held his hand as he drifted to sleep. Then she watched over him until Josh took her place.


Sam awoke the next morning alone in his room. The copy of Cosmo was under his arm.
Josh had put post-it-notes on pages with comments like, "Do they really think guys do this?" Sam laughed so hard the nurse came in check that he was okay.
He assured her that he was and sent her out. He'd reached for the phone to call Josh when Dr. Jackson knocked briefly on the open door and entered.
"Mr. Seaborn, you look better. I have some things to talk over with you."
Sam nodded and sat upright in bed.
"Your hemoglobin and hematocrit, the red blood cells, are stable after the transfusions. There's no evidence of active bleeding. You are still anemic, but that would take time to correct even if you were perfectly healthy. We've found no definitive evidence of any infection. The HIV, bacterial cultures, and viral serologies are negative. There are, of course, many viral illnesses that can't be specifically identified. These are self limited and don't have or need specific treatment. You do still have intermittent fevers, which could be due to a number of factors. We cannot identify a clear hematologic malignancy at this point. That means we can't say it's leukemia or lymphoma."
Dr. Jackson paused and took a deep breath. Sam Seaborn was a very intelligent man, but he wanted to be sure he was following the explanation. He waited until Sam nodded, then continued. "A key aspect of your history is that you took both aspirin and trimethoprim/ sulfamethoxazole before you became ill."
Sam interjected, "I've taken aspirin for years, and I took the antibiotic you just mentioned at least once before without any problems."
Jackson continued. "Yes, but it's possible that the combination of the drugs, and perhaps a concurrent viral infection, set up an immunological cascade that destroyed your platelets and suppressed your bone marrow's production of new cells. It's an immune related phenomenon that we don't fully understand. If this is what's happening, it's likely that your bone marrow will recover on its own. Based on my conversations with our experts this seems the most likely diagnosis."
"So this is really good news, because you're telling me it's not cancer?"
"I still can't tell you that for sure, because we have to see if your counts recover. We may still need to do a bone marrow biopsy-"
"--But I may just get better with no treatment?"
"Yes. The rest of the good news is that if you remain stable and don't have any high fevers, I'll let you out of the hospital in another day or so."
After Dr. Jackson left his room, Sam called Toby with the latest news. Toby's relief was evident even over the phone. Unfortunately for the staff of the hospital, the good news spread rapidly through the West Wing. Everyone now felt the need to see Sam for themselves.
The President and the First Lady arrived with a Secret Service detail large enough to shut down the normal operation of the hospital for two hours. The President badgered Sam's doctors and launched into several long stories which they were too intimidated to escape. Ginger, Bonnie, Margaret, Donna and Mrs. Landingham arrived together after work and filled his room with flowers and balloons. Toby arrived with a five pound box of papers regarding thrombocytopenia.
With sighs of relief from the hospital, Sam was discharged home the next day. CJ drove him home and literally tucked him into bed. She admonished him not to embellish on the tucking incident. Sam found it hard not to laugh over that.
He was told to avoid any activity that could lead to trauma, because he was still at risk for bleeding. Toby accused him of 'incessant whining due to boredom' after he called six times in one hour to ask for some work to do from home. Eventually Toby sent Ginger to Sam's apartment with a few light projects.
Josh remembered the torture of being home to recover. Though Sam's situation was much different, he did everything he could to keep him from feeling isolated.


After a week at home, Sam rejoined his friends in the West Wing. He tired easily and took naps on Toby's couch, but was relieved and content to be back at work. He suspected that his friends had established a rotating schedule to hover over him, because he was never alone for more than an hour without someone checking on him.
Sam was at his desk working on some briefs when Josh came in and sat down.
"Sam, how are you?"
"I'm fine, Josh."
"I need help with something, and I understand that you might not feel up to it and that's okay, so just tell me and I'll drop it, but-"
"Josh, have you been hanging around Ainsley Hayes? Cause you are rambling just like her."
"Oh, hell. I was just there in Tribbey's office with her. She sends her best by the way. The GDC is filing injunctions against two of the world's largest oil companies because their offshore drilling plans at several overseas sites will destroy some habitats and don't meet the U.S. safety guidelines."
"But the overseas sites are protected from the U.S. guidelines and they might get around that if they play it correctly?"
"Yes. We're all lawyers, Sam. But I don't know anything about that stuff. You are the only one who ever really practiced. You were the Gage-Whitney Golden Boy and the oil sharks respect that. We don't have a chance of successful mediation without someone who can scare them."
"I'll start on it tonight, Josh."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. I've started to realize that I'm happiest when I'm working. Especially when I'm doing something worthwhile."
Josh was relieved. They really needed Sam for this. But he couldn't resist teasing Sam a bit. "You just want the women to see you in 'legal eagle' mode again, 'cause they all swoon over it."
"I'll remember that you used the word 'swoon," and use that against you soon. But would that be a bad thing?" Sam teased him back.
"See you tomorrow, Sam."
After a two day prep session, Sam successfully mediated the GDC/oil trust crisis while managing not to burn the bridges for the White House. Josh had been right. The fact that the oil companies knew he'd worked for them at Gage-Whitney and that the GDC knew he was sympathetic to environmental causes made him the perfect mediator.
Josh sent Sam home after the proceedings concluded. He could tell that Sam was exhausted, but he marveled that it was only because he knew him so well. To every other person in the room that day, Sam Seaborn was the picture of health. He was a powerful attorney, working with passionate beliefs to do what he thought was right. Both sides respected that, and were able to talk to each other with civility.
Josh knocked on Leo's door at nine PM. Leo was engrossed in his work.
"Leo, Sam did it. They settled into a reasonable compromise. I'm not going to try to explain all the nuances 'cause they lost me when they got into the theories of Darwinian evolution and species preservation mixed with the structural engineering details of off shore rigs, but it's there in the summary." He dropped a folder onto Leo's desk.
Leo looked up. "At last, some good news today. Sam's okay?"
"Sam was amazing. He blew them all away. Both sides are gonna try to hire him away from us after this."
"Make sure they don't succeed."
"Yeah. See you tomorrow."
Sam idly tossed the ball from one hand to another as he stared at his computer screen. He had writer's block.
He stared at the fading bruises on his forearms. They were healing well. That was a good sign, the doctors told him. One hard blow produced the bruise. Healing morphed the angry red into shades of purple, green, yellow and even brown. The colors faded out slowly. It was Technicolor.
He tossed the ball toward the ceiling and caught it again.
His brush with mortality had bruised his world. But without out it, he wondered if he would have ever appreciated all the colors that surrounded him. The colors were his friends, his job, his family, his beliefs. All the things he'd run through life seeing in black and white until he had to focus.
Sam smiled to himself at his musings. He decided he'd better keep these poetic images out of the speeches or Toby would need a case of red pens for editing.
He shifted his gaze back to his computer screen.
"Toby!" Sam called out. He knew Toby was in his office working on another project.
A moment later Toby appeared at his door.
"What, Sam?"
"I need a synonym for perception."
"Cognizance, sight, understanding, discernment..." Toby rattled off the words.
"Cognizance will do."
"You aren't done yet?"
"Toby, is it my imagination, or is the President doing some rather low level speaking engagements this month?"
"You find the Future Farmers Association for high school students low profile?"
"There's nothing wrong with it. It's just that I know nothing about farming. The 'spud speech' was more than enough. I was a 'Future Surfer of America' you know."
"Do I care about this?"
"I'm just saying."
"I think this is Leo's extension to the President of Big Block of Cheese Day," Toby commented with rancor.
"I feel sick." Sam sighed dramatically and launched a pen across the office.
"Sam?" Toby stepped into Sam's office. The teasing tone left his voice.
Sam looked at Toby. He puzzled at the change in his face for a moment and then realized what he'd said. He'd actually forgotten about his illness for a moment.
"No, Toby. Not sick like that. Just...exasperated with the speech."
"You're sure? I can finish the speech."
"I'm sure. Stop being Mother Toby Hen."
"If you call me that again, I'll kick your ass. Platelets or no platelets."
Sam smiled. "Fair enough."
Toby walked to the door. Bonnie leaned in to call to Sam.
"Sam, Dr. Jackson's on the phone." She told him quietly and left.
Sam looked up. The smile fell from his face. His lab results were due today. Toby paused at the door.
"I'll be next door, Sam."
"Yeah."
Toby closed the door behind him and Sam picked up the phone. Toby went back to his own office and started pacing. He knew that Sam's latest lab results were crucial. If the platelet counts were higher, the postulated drug-induced thrombocytopenia was likely. If they weren't, something else could be responsible. Something more insidious.
A few minutes later Sam appeared at his door.
"My counts are back." Toby tried to discern something from his voice but couldn't read Sam's inflection.
"Spit it out, Sam."
"The platelets are up to 110,000. My bone marrow is rallying."
Toby smiled. "Sam, that's really good."
"Yeah. Bad aspirin. Bad antibiotics."
"Cogent thoughts, there, Sam. You forgot that it's your screwy immune system that the 'bad antibiotics and bad aspirin' conspired with to do this to you."
"Yes." Sam responded weakly. Toby was puzzled. He should be happy.
"What's wrong, Sam?"
"I'm just relieved, I guess. I have no idea how I'd react if he'd just told me something I didn't want to hear."
"I'm glad we didn't find out. You'd better go tell Josh and the others."
Sam reached into his pocket and took out the ball. He tossed it softly to Toby and whistled as he headed down the hall. Things were returning to normal in the West Wing.

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