Far From Home:
Part 1
Piper
I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love,
Even more than I usually do.
And although I know it's a long road back,
I promise you…
Sam shut the door with a sigh and crossed to the chair near the desk, collapsing into it without a second thought. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them to stare out the window, thinking absently that Josh had a better view than he did.
He knew he shouldn't just be sitting there. There were things to do, a speech to write, and at least a dozen people who wanted to yell at him, including his boss. Stressful things, yes, but it was a stressful job. He had been handling everything fairly well—until the phone call, that is. He now knew that he would be having an unexpected guest for the holidays. That news had pushed him over his limit of catastrophes for one day.
Josh was at a meeting on the Hill that afternoon and wouldn't be back for hours. So there was no reason for Sam to be in his office…and no reason for anyone to look for him there. His own office hadn't been providing him with much sanctuary. He told himself he just needed a minute to collect his thoughts, but truthfully, he was hiding. He hadn't had the strength to go another round with Toby, Ainsley, or that senator from Alabama.
He sighed again, his mind drifting. He had always loved Christmas. The miniature Christmas tree as well as the tinsel and porcelain nativity scene in his office attested to that. There was just something magical about the season. He often found himself wishing he could be that wide-eyed child again—the one who still believed in Santa Claus and Christmas miracles. But everything was tarnished now. Last Christmas had brought Josh's breakdown. And any childhood memories now came at a cost, as they made him think of his father and that hurtful betrayal.
His father. Sam groaned, sinking further into the chair. His father was coming for Christmas. While they were on speaking terms, Sam hadn't really forgiven him yet. He knew it was going to be awkward.
And then there was Toby. He didn't know what was going on with his boss, but being around him had been unbearable for the past couple of weeks. Sam knew that Ginger and some of the others had been calling him Scrooge behind his back, which was fine with Sam—the problem was that he had come very close to saying it to Toby's face earlier. It was another reason he had taken refuge in Josh's office. He knew he needed to calm down before he said something he would likely regret.
He took a deep breath intended to calm his racing thoughts as he reached up to rub his temples. Topping things off, he was afraid he was coming down with something. It would be just his luck to be too sick to come to work and have to spend every moment alone with his father. But he couldn't afford to be sick. He was being yelled at enough as it was. So, he was ignoring the symptoms and pretending everything was great, despite the fact that Toby's loud 'criticism' and the constant arguments from every direction had a tendency to make his headaches worse.
Suffice it to say that Sam was not having a very merry Christmas.
He allowed his thoughts to drift again, trying to stay with happy subjects. He closed his eyes, and let himself relax.
~*~
"Sam?"
Josh punctuated the soft call with a gentle hand shaking Sam's shoulder. His face was a mixture of amusement and concern as Sam opened his eyes and blinked a few times. After a moment of staring at Josh, he said "Huh?"
"You were asleep," Josh responded, tossing his backpack onto the desk and shrugging out of his coat. Sam pushed himself up in the chair, noticing Donna standing in the doorway.
"Sam, I didn't know you were in here," she said.
He gave her a slight smile, obviously still trying to fully wake up. "No one did. That was kind of the point," he replied sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
"Are you okay?" Josh asked, coming back to sit in the other chair facing him.
"Yeah. I can't believe I fell asleep…what time is it?"
"Almost six."
Sam stared at him in shock, then noticed the darkness outside the window.
"Toby's been looking for you," Donna put in.
Sam groaned. "Just Toby?"
"Well, he seems like the most important one."
"You mean he's the most upset."
"Well…yes."
Sam groaned again. Josh looked at him sympathetically. "Donna, would you give us a minute?"
She nodded. "And if Toby comes by…"
"You have no idea where Sam is."
She smiled. "Got it." She slipped back out to her desk, shutting the door softly behind her.
As she left, Josh turned back to him. "Are you okay?"
"You already asked that."
"Yes, and I didn't believe you the first time, so I'm asking again."
"I'm fine."
Josh gave him his I'm-your-best-friend-and-I-know-when-you're-lying-to-me look and cocked his head, wordlessly asking the question a third time. Sam gave him a small but honest smile, telling him that he appreciated the show of concern. "I'm okay, Josh. Just a little tired. I came in here to escape for a minute; I didn't mean to take over your office."
"Hey, my casa is your casa. Except, you know, we're talking about my office instead of my home." Josh stood as Sam did, and winced in sympathy as Sam grimaced at his protesting muscles. "The chair's not all that comfortable, though. If you wanted to rest, you should have used Toby's office."
Sam shot him a look as he stretched his back. "Except that might have required talking to Toby."
"Ah," Josh said. "So Toby isn't upset just because you went AWOL. You've been hiding from him."
"I wasn't hiding!" Sam said defensively. Josh simply stared at him knowingly, and he eventually admitted, "Okay, maybe I was hiding. I didn't intend to sleep; I wasn't even that tired. And it's not just Toby, it's…everything. I guess it's just the Christmas season."
"Come on, Sam. You love Christmas."
Sam looked at his best friend for a moment, then dropped his eyes. Softly, and with very little conviction, he said, "Yeah."
Josh stared at him, confused and a little worried. Through the many years that they had been friends, Sam's exuberance at Christmas had been a constant. His young friend had always seemed even younger over the holidays; full of almost childlike excitement and a giving spirit. He tackled volunteer projects, giving until it hurt in an effort to do his part to fix the ills of the world for Christmas. He had even played Santa at a nearby department store one year in college. So the fact that his friend was suddenly blaming of all his problems on this holiday that he loved concerned Josh. He was about to say as much when Sam spoke first. "My Dad's coming for Christmas," he blurted out, staring at his shoes.
Well, that explained some things. "Oh. I don't suppose you're looking forward to that."
Sam looked up and made eye contact with him. "He waited until today to call me. His plane gets in tomorrow night! He didn't give me any time…Josh, I don't know if I can do this."
Josh looked at him with compassion, knowing how much his father's betrayal still stung. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say something. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as the door to his office was suddenly pushed open. He was fully prepared to yell at his unwelcome visitor and to yell at Donna for letting them by—until he saw who it was.
"Josh, have you seen…" Toby trailed off as he caught sight of the object of his wrath. "Sam!"
Sam literally cringed. Toby used to provoke that reaction frequently before the two had become friends, but it had been a long time since Sam had actually seemed afraid of Toby. Josh glanced back and forth between the Communications Director and his deputy, then, feeling sorry for his friend, attempted to diffuse some of the tension. "No, Toby. I haven't seen him." Aside to Sam he tilted his head towards the desk and said in a stage whisper, "Quick, hide!"
Toby spared Josh an annoyed glare before refocusing on Sam.
To his credit, Sam didn't jump behind the desk. But as his boss's eyes pierced into him, he did take an unconscious step closer to Josh. "Toby," he said, attempting a weak smile. "I was just coming to look for you."
"I'm sure. I've been looking for you for an hour." His icy tone made the room seem a few degrees colder. "Come on, we have work to do." Without another word, he turned and stormed off.
Both Josh and Sam stared at the doorway for a moment in shocked silence. Then Sam turned to Josh with a sheepish look. "I'd better go."
"Maybe I should call a secret service agent to go with you for protection. I think he's in the mood to kill something."
"All the more reason I should do as he says." Sam sighed, then started for the door.
"Sam, about this thing with your Dad…" Josh began.
"Sam!!" came a very loud, very irate call from the hallway.
Sam winced. Josh did as well before saying hastily; "We can talk later okay? I'll buy you a drink tonight."
"Fine. Thanks," Sam said distractedly as he practically ran out the door.
Josh stared after him for a second until Donna appeared in his line of vision. "I'm sorry, Josh. I told him he couldn't come in, but I think if I had actually stood between him and the door, he would have gone straight through me."
"Don't worry about it," he said absently.
"So," she said conversationally, coming closer and lowering her voice. "Did you find out what's wrong with Sam?"
"His father's coming for Christmas."
"Oh," she said. Then as she realized the impact of that, she said again, "Oh."
"And I think Toby's attitude is starting to get to him." Josh shook his head in frustration. "He deserves to be happy at Christmas, Donna. He's always loved Christmas, and I hate to sit here and watch Toby and his father take that away from him."
She started to say something, then stopped. She studied him for a moment. Finally, she said, "You're a good friend Josh. You tend to get overprotective, but your heart is in the right place. I know Sam may have a tendency to need that protection, but sometimes you need to let him find his own way. All you can really do is be there to listen."
Josh gave her a frustrated look. He knew she was trying to help, and if he was honest with himself she was probably right. But this was his best friend they were talking about here, and it was hard to accept that he couldn't help. He shut his eyes and took a calming breath, then opened them to look into Donna's compassionate ones. He nodded slightly in acceptance—for now. She squeezed his arm and then began to tell him about his messages from the afternoon. Before focusing on the work, he sent up a silent prayer for Sam.
~*~
(the next day)
Sam glanced up at the gate numbers as he strode swiftly through the terminal. He was late, thanks to Toby and his insistence on changing Sam's speech. And it wasn't just little changes here and there; he had practically overhauled the whole thing. And this was after having kept him late last night as well, although Sam was convinced that one had simply been punishment for ditching him that afternoon.
Sam was getting rather sick of the whole situation. He could do no right Toby's eyes, and it had been that way for a couple of weeks. It was as if they had been transported back to when they first met and had just begun working together, and he really had no desire to relive those days. He and Toby were friends now; the older man had even become somewhat of a big brother to him. So he didn't understand Toby's recent behavior. Something told him that it wasn't him—that something was wrong with Toby that had nothing to do with him. But Toby didn't want to talk, and Sam had too much else going on to devote enough time to it. He didn't know what to do. But he did know one thing: he was beginning to feel with Toby the way that he had felt with Josh last Christmas—held at arm's length, treated as if his help wasn't wanted, all the while suspecting that something was seriously wrong. He had an eerie sense of deja vu. And that scared him.
He mentally shoved those thoughts aside. He had a more pressing matter at the moment. Finally reaching the correct gate, he maneuvered around the happy families reuniting until he was standing in front of the chairs in the waiting area. The tall, distinguished, silver-haired man with the enchanting smile spotted him right away and moved to meet him.
Sam took a deep breath. "Dad."
"Sam," his father's greeting was considerably warmer. The smile grew as the elder Seaborn wrapped his arms around his son in a tight embrace. "It's good to see you."
Sam returned the hug automatically without any real feeling. When they pulled apart, he managed a brief smile for his father before turning away. "We should get in line for your bags. Fighting the Christmas crowd at a DC airport isn't exactly a walk in the park."
His father obediently followed him through the crowd. They managed to retrieve his bags and make their way out to Sam's car. It wasn't until they were seated and on their way that either of them spoke again. "You look tired, son," his father said softly.
Sam shrugged. "It's late, and it's been a long day. I'm fine."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, which Sam thought made it perfectly clear that he didn't want to talk. That illusion shattered when his father spoke next, "Your mother asked me to wish you happy holidays. She said she'd call you on Christmas Day."
Sam froze. Since when were he and Mom on friendly terms again? His father was no fool; he knew what bringing her up would provoke. Sam set his jaw, refusing to give in to the draw. "That's great," he said with false cheeriness. "I sent her a Christmas card—the kind that plays music when you open it." And I didn't send you anything, jackass, he added mentally.
His father apparently go the point, because after a few minutes of tense silence he changed the subject to much safer topics like the weather and what the President liked to eat for breakfast. They managed to make it back to Sam's apartment without any bloodshed. Sam was suddenly grateful that it was so late and he was so obviously tired, because he had a good excuse for going straight to bed. After settling his father with blankets and a very short tour of the apartment, he bid him goodnight. He was content to fall into a deep sleep and forget that his father, and Toby for that matter, existed until the morning came.
~*~
Sam woke the next morning to pounding. He initially thought it was coming from the door to his bedroom, but he realized after a moment that that was just a light knocking. His aching head was magnifying it to a pounding. He groaned slightly, refusing to move.
"Sam? Aren't you going to be late?" came the call through the door.
He groaned again. In those first few seconds after waking, he had forgotten that his father was in the next room. He wanted to go back to sleep. His dream world was much more enjoyable than his waking one.
But his father's words slowly registered. Was that sunshine coming in his window? "What time is it?" he called, still not wanting to move.
"Almost eight."
His eyes popped wide-open. Eight o'clock?! Toby was going to kill him. He bolted upright—and gasped as pain shot through his head and neck. He brought a hand up to brace his neck, breathing fast as dizziness assaulted him.
"Sam? Are you okay?"
He forced his breathing to slow, kneading his fingers into his stiff neck. He must have slept on it in a weird position. That combined with the headache and the fact that he had sat up so fast…that was it. He was fine; he just needed some aspirin. "Yeah, Dad…I'm okay. I'll be out in a minute. Could you fix some coffee?"
"Sure." His father sounded concerned, and that was the last thing he needed. As he heard the footsteps walk away and towards the kitchen, he pushed himself out of bed. Again, he had to be still for a moment to avoid passing out at the altitude change. When his vision had stopped swimming, he crossed to the closet and pulled out a suit before reaching for the phone. He would rather be yelled at over the phone and given dirty looks all day than yelled at in person. He didn't think he could handle that kind of confrontation today.
The phone rang a couple of times before Ginger answered. He identified himself, then asked to speak to Toby. Before transferring him she asked if he was all right. He said yes, smiling slightly. It was good to know that somebody cared.
The smile was gone quickly when the call transferred. "What?" Toby barked into the phone.
Sam winced, resisting the urge to pull the phone away from his ear. "Uh…hey Toby. It's Sam. I'm running a little late."
"I noticed." Instead of the yelling Sam had expected, there was a sigh followed by, "Tell me you're on your way, and we'll leave it at that."
"Uh…" he shut his eyes, wishing more than anything that he could say that. "I'm on my way, but I have to take care of something first." Toby's sigh was more frustrated this time, and he rushed to say, "My father's here. I promised him a visit to the White House. I don't have to stay with him or anything, but I do have to get him set up with a visitor's pass. I'll be there as soon as I can." He hated the pleading tone his voice had taken, but he couldn't seem to stop it.
There was a pause, then, "You didn't tell me your father was here."
"He came in yesterday. He's staying through Christmas."
"Fine. Just hurry up. I'm going to be out of the office until after lunch, so you're in charge," his boss said tersely before hanging up on him.
Sam stared at the phone, trying to summon the energy to figure out Toby's behavior. He couldn't find it. So he gave up, replacing the receiver in its cradle before going back to his suit.
When he finally made it out to the kitchen, his father was sitting at the counter, drinking out of his coffee mug and reading his newspaper and looking as if he had been up for hours. Sam had a sudden flashback to his teenage years. It would have been more pleasant if he hadn't also been picturing what his father was doing those mornings that he hadn't been home. He cut off the thought, refusing to let his mind go down that road. "Are you ready to go?" he asked a bit more impatiently that he probably should have.
His father glanced up at him. "Aren't you going to have breakfast? Or at least drink the coffee you asked me to make?"
"I'm late Dad," he replied tersely, then took a calming breath. "I'll take a cup of coffee with me, and I'll live without breakfast." His stomach was actually churning with the thought of food. His Dad still looked a little worried, but he folded the paper and moved to retrieve his shoes from the other room. While he was gone, Sam took the opportunity to swallow a couple of aspirin tablets. He sent up a silent prayer that they would kick in soon before grapping a cup for his coffee and herding his father out the door.
~*~
After taking care of his father's pass and managing to convince one of the interns in a lower office to take him on a tour, and thus off his son's hands for a while, Sam actually managed to get a little work done. It was somehow more peaceful without Toby yelling in the next room. Later in the morning, he headed for Josh's office. He had agreed to meet his friend to discuss a new bill going to the floor, but he suspected that wasn't Josh's only motivation for the meeting. Since Toby had kept him late for the last two nights, the two friends had never had the chance to go for that drink; in fact they had hardly seen each other since. Sam knew Josh was worried. Sam also knew that he looked sick, and Josh wasn't about to miss that fact. Still, he went.
But when he came within sight of Donna's desk, he stopped short. There, involved in an apparently deep conversation with Josh's assistant, was his father. He must have escaped from the intern. Sam quickly glanced around, wondering where he could hide to avoid them. But he needn't have worried, as neither of them even noticed him. Sam watched for a moment, slightly appalled as she giggled at something he said. He considered breaking it up for Donna's sake, but suddenly a trip to the men's room was more important.
He barely made it, narrowly avoiding throwing up all over the carpet of the West Wing. He rinsed his mouth out at the sink. Then he gazed at his pale reflection in the mirror, wincing as he pulled his head back up. His neck was still unbelievably stiff. He reached up a hand to rub it, closing his eyes.
"Sam?"
Sam's eyes snapped open and he jumped at the close voice. Luckily, he caught himself before he tried to turn his head, instead looking in the mirror to meet the concerned eyes. "Charlie. I didn't hear you come in."
"Yeah, I could see that. Are you all right?"
Sam turned towards him slowly and forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Yeah, okay." Charlie raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. "So you weren't just throwing up?"
"Well, yeah…but I think it's just something I ate," Sam compromised, lying of course.
Charlie nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, take it easy, huh? Maybe Toby would let you use his couch to rest for a few minutes."
"Yeah, I might do that." He forced another smile for Charlie's benefit before heading out the door. Resting actually sounded pretty good. Toby would be out for at least another hour, so he could avoid a confrontation. And if he shut the door and the blinds, his father might not find him. Perhaps if he rested for a few minutes, he might find the strength to make it through the rest of the day with both of them.
It was a good idea. It was also wishful thinking, since he barely had the strength to make it to Toby's office.
As he passed through the bullpen he said, "Ginger, I'm going to be in Toby's office for a while." As an afterthought he added, "But that's only if Leo is looking for me. If its anyone else, tell them I went out."
"Out?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, out. To the grocery store, to the mall, to the North Pole—I don't care. Just tell them I'm out." She nodded, giving him the same 'are you okay?' look he had gotten from Charlie. He ignored it and went into his boss's office, closing the door behind him and moving to close the blinds.
Finally out of view of his coworkers, Sam deflated. He turned out the lights. Then he simply stood for a moment, rubbing his neck, before he all but collapsed onto the couch. As he shifted his legs up, he wished he had thought to grab his coat to use for a blanket. It was cold.
His eyes slowly slid shut then popped open again. Hadn't he needed to see Josh about something? He couldn't remember why. Deciding it must not have been important, he closed his eyes again. Again, they popped open as he realized absently that he was shivering. It was really cold. Why would Toby need such a cold office? The only person who could live in such a cold environment was Santa Clause. He giggled a little deliriously as his mind made the odd connection and an image of Toby in a Santa suit popped into his head. Now that was something he would pay to see!
He fell asleep a few minutes later, visions of Toby wearing a Santa hat and being chased by a red-nosed reindeer dominating his fevered dreams.
~*~
"I love Sam, really I do, but I think his father is a dirty old man."
Toby cast a sideways glance at Josh as the younger man joined him walking towards Toby's office. "Dirty old man?"
"I swear, he's been hitting on Donna for over an hour."
Toby shook his head in amusement. "Donna's a big girl, Josh. She can take care of herself."
"Yeah, well…Sam's an adult too, but his father is certainly throwing him off."
Toby nodded slowly. "Yeah, I noticed. Of course I didn't know the reason since he didn't tell me until this morning that his father was coming."
Josh cast him an accusing glare. "You wonder why he didn't tell you? You really haven't been helping the situation, you know. Maybe you could let up on him a little?"
Toby sighed. "Josh— I know, all right?"
"If you know, why don't you stop?"
Toby sighed again. He did feel bad about the way he'd been treating Sam for the past few weeks. Especially since he knew in his heart that his bad mood had nothing to do with his deputy; Sam was just a convenient outlet—because he would take it and still keep coming back. And Toby hated himself for using that. His frustration with himself came out in his next words to Josh. "Did you need something, or did you just feel like annoying me?"
"Oh, a little of both," Josh said with that infuriating grin of his. Then he sobered and said, "Sam was supposed to meet me an hour ago, but he never showed. I was just going to look for him."
By this point, they had reached the communications bullpen. Toby called to Ginger, "Anything important I need to know?"
She barely spared him a glance. "Nothing."
"Ginger, have you seen Sam?" Josh threw in.
She did look up now, looking slightly like a deer caught in the headlights. "Uh…Sam went out."
"Out? Out where?"
"Um…I think he said something about the North Pole." They both stared at her. She stared back for a moment, then said, "He's in your office sleeping."
The two men exchanged a look with each other now, confused and perhaps a little worried. "Hold my calls," Toby ordered, heading towards his door.
"Are you two going to the North Pole too?" she asked, with more than a little attitude. Toby spared her a warning glare, and she went back to her work.
Josh followed him, asking softly, "What's up with her?"
"She's a little mad at me. They all are, actually," he said, gesturing to the entire bullpen. "You'd think Sam was their favorite or something."
"You mean they snub you every time you're mean to Sam?" Josh grinned, his expression saying that he'd just found all new respect for the communications workers.
Toby gave him a look. "It's a new habit actually and it's not very good for their job security!" he said, his voice rising at the end. It earned him a few dirty looks, but he didn't stick around to see them, instead pushing open his office door. Behind him, Josh turned to give them an approving smile and a thumbs-up before following.
Inside, Toby stared at his sleeping deputy for a moment and then flicked on the lights, fully expecting him to wake up. He didn't. He moved into the office to make room for Josh, who cast a concerned glance at Sam before shutting the door behind him. Josh stooped down by the arm of the couch beside Sam's head, while Toby sat on the coffee table. The fact that the communications director didn't bother to take off his coat or gloves first betrayed the concern he was feeling.
"Sam?" Josh called softly.
Toby voice wasn't near as soft. "Sam, wake up," he all but ordered. Josh shot him a glare. But it didn't really matter, because the younger man still didn't wake. In the end, Toby resorted to grasping his shoulders and shaking him. Sam came awake slowly, moaning slightly and blinking his eyes like a baby owl. Both of the other men watched him a bit anxiously, waiting for a response, as Sam gradually focused on Toby.
"Santa?" came the bewildered voice.
It would have been funny. Oh hell, it was funny. Toby's eyebrows shot up indignantly and Josh choked back a laugh. But they both sobered quickly when they noticed that Sam was looking at them like he'd never seen them before in his life.
"Sorry to disappoint, but I won't be taking off with any reindeer any time soon," Toby said, studying Sam with barely concealed worry.
The younger man stared at him for a moment, then said "Toby?" His eyes swept his surroundings. "Where am I?"
Toby met Josh's glance, seeing the concern he felt reflected there. "You're in Toby's office, Sam," Josh said gently.
"Oh." After another moment of looking around, Sam apparently got his bearings and started to pull himself into a sitting position. Josh moved to sit on the arm of the couch and Toby straightened, removing his gloves and moving to hang up his coat. He kept an eye on his deputy, watching as Sam grimaced and started to rub his neck, squinting and saying "It's really bright in here."
"No more than normal," Toby said, settling his hands on his hips as he studied the younger man. Something was very wrong with Sam's reactions.
"Does your neck hurt?" Josh asked.
Sam started to nod, then apparently thought better of it. "Yeah. I think I just slept on it weird."
Josh, always the dutiful best friend, reached to put his hands on Sam's shoulders at the base of his neck and began to massage the muscles. Sam leaned into the contact, looking slightly less miserable as Josh countered the pain. After a minute Josh frowned, then moved his hand to the bare skin of Sam's neck. "You're burning up!" he exclaimed as Sam moved away from the hand, pronounced shivers running through his body.
Toby came back to the couch at that, sitting on Sam's other side and placing a hand on his forehead. Again Sam tried to move away, but Toby grasped his arm to keep him still. He could feel the heat radiating from the younger man, even on his arm through his sleeve. He met Josh's eyes over Sam's head and said, "Go find Mrs. Bartlet."
Josh nodded, giving Sam's shoulder a squeeze before practically running out of the room. Sam, meanwhile, was not happy with his boss's order. "I'm fine, just a little tired," he said, attempting to stand.
He didn't make it. Luckily, Toby and the couch were there to catch him. "You are not fine."
"If you say so," Sam said a bit dizzily. "Toby, it's really cold in here."
"No, Sam. The room isn't cold. You have a fever," Toby explained patiently.
"Oh."
He was still shivering violently. Toby took a moment to steady him, then stood to retrieve his coat from the rack before coming back to Sam's side. He wrapped the coat snugly around his deputy's shoulders, then started to pull his arm back. But Sam responded by snuggling closer, having found a better source of heat than the coat. Toby was surprised for a moment, then shifted to replace the arm around him in an attempt to offer a little support and comfort. As the younger man wearily dropped his aching head to rest on his shoulder, Toby realized that Sam was pretty out of it. That close, he got a better appreciation of just how high Sam's fever was. He knew that a temperature this high could be dangerous. As Sam's eyes slid shut, he jostled him slightly. "Sam, stay awake for me."
"Okay," Sam responded weakly. After a moment, he started talking again. "You know, I used to love Christmas. Every year, Mom and Dad would take me to the mall to see Santa." His voice had taken on a dreamy quality. "And Dad and I would always go to get a tree. Then we would go home and decorate it. Even when I got older, the tree was always a tradition. We were so happy." Sam broke off, and when he spoke again, his voice was trembling. "I thought we were happy. But it was all a lie…he was lying all along. Now all those memories are worthless."
Toby felt his heart clench, even though he knew Sam was slightly delirious and probably didn't know what he was saying. He might have been babbling, but those were his real feelings; feelings he normally wouldn't reveal to anyone. Toby gave him a comforting squeeze, knowing that anything he said wouldn't make it through the haze Sam was in. He had no idea what to say anyhow.
In the meantime, Sam had very little control over his emotions and had started crying softly, expending what little strength he still had. Toby moved his hand to rub Sam's back gently, saying softly, "It's okay, Sam. It's okay." He found himself silently cursing Sam's father for putting him through this.
They sat like that for a few minutes until Sam reined his emotions in. At that point he pushed himself slightly away from Toby, and his boss watched as he brought a shaking hand up to scrub at his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me," came the small voice.
"You have a fever, Sam. You're just a little out of it; that's all," Toby explained patiently and calmly so as not to alarm Sam, although he was getting pretty worried. The younger man was coherent one minute and barely lucid the next. He wondered what was taking Josh so long. He reached to peek through the blinds, but didn't see them coming. His attention snapped back to Sam when he moved to stand up again. He reached out and grasped his shoulder, effectively keeping him seated. "Samuel! What are you doing?"
Sam didn't even react to the use of his full name. "I was going to get some water."
Toby sighed, realizing that his throat probably hurt from crying. But he knew that Sam wouldn't make it more than a foot from the couch, and he was reluctant to leave him alone in this condition. He was reaching to knock on the window and motion for Ginger when a knock sounded at the slightly open office door. "Come on in," he called, praying that it was Josh and the First Lady.
It wasn't. Charlie entered with an obvious message to deliver, but he seemed to forget it as soon as he got a good look at Sam. "What's going on?"
Toby glanced at his deputy, not even sure that he had noticed Charlie's presence. "Sam's not feeling too well. The First Lady's coming to check on him," he said, then watched as Charlie's face dawned with understanding and concern. He knew that the staff didn't invoke Dr. Bartlet's help unless it was serious.
Then Charlie nodded. "Yeah, he was sick earlier. He said it was something he ate but…"
"Whoa, when you say he was sick…"
"I mean he was throwing up in the men's room."
Toby's concern increased. What was going on with Sam? He had been planning to ask Charlie to get them some water, but he didn't want to provoke more vomiting. He glanced at the object of his concern, who was in turn staring at a spot on the floor as if it was taking all of his concentration just to stay conscious. Maybe the best idea at the moment was simply to lay Sam down again before he passed out.
Luckily, he didn't have to make a decision. Josh chose that moment to come barreling back into the office, practically running over Charlie, and with Abby Bartlet in tow. She immediately took charge of the situation, coming to kneel in front of Sam. "Sam," she called, then reached to tilt his chin up when she got no response. A second after touching him, she glanced at Toby and said softly, "Did anyone call an ambulance?"
Toby felt his heart skip a beat. "Do we need one?"
She kept her voice steady and calming. "With a fever this high it's usually a necessary precaution. We could take him to the hospital ourselves, but if anything were to go wrong in the car…it's better if we call. We can meet them outside and avoid the scene, if you want."
Toby nodded numbly and then glanced at the two men standing. Josh's face had drained of color, but Charlie met his eyes and nodded before heading for the phone on Toby's desk. As he talked into the receiver in the background, Abby tried to examine a barely conscious Sam. "What are his symptoms?" she asked Josh and Toby.
The two glanced at each other. "Well, there's the fever, obviously. That's why we got you, ma'am," Josh began.
"He was disoriented when we woke him. He's coherent one minute, then not the next. Charlie tells me he was throwing up earlier, and I'm fairly certain he has a headache. He was sensitive to the lights." Toby listed.
"And his neck," Josh threw in.
Abby glanced back at him sharply. "What about his neck?"
"Uh…it was hurting. He thought it was just stiff from the position he slept in…" Josh trailed off, casting a confused look at Toby, obviously not understanding why Sam's neck would be such a big deal. Toby was wondering the same thing. But Abby seemed to have become much more worried with that news.
"Sam, look at me," she instructed. He, by some miracle, managed to comply. "I want you to rotate your head for me."
Toby and Josh exchanged yet another confused look as Charlie returned from making the phone call. "They'll be here in about ten minutes," he said softly. Abby nodded distractedly as she concentrated on Sam. He was attempting to do as she had asked, but couldn't, instead emitting a strangled cry of pain when he tilted his head to the side. Toby responded to his obvious agony by gripping his shoulder comfortingly. Then the Communications Director looked to the First Lady, obviously wanting an explanation.
She drew in a breath, ignoring Toby's look for the moment in favor of Sam's well being. "It's okay Sam. Good try." To the other men she said, "Let's get him outside. He's going to need some help. Charlie, why don't you go ahead and clear a path for us." Charlie nodded and headed out of the room. Abby stood and moved back as Josh and Toby took positions on either side of Sam. "Sam, we're going to move you now, all right? Can you walk?" He simply stared up at her dazedly. "Okay…Josh and Toby are going to help you. Lean on them as much as you need too." She nodded to the two of them, and they each grasped an arm to haul him carefully to his feet.
Toby grimaced as Sam swayed unsteadily and he abruptly found himself supporting most of the younger man's weight. "Josh, a little help here?"
"I'm trying!" Josh got an arm around his friend's waist and steadied him between them. Toby adjusted his hold, then they both stared uncertainly at Sam's closed eyes. "Sam?" Josh asked urgently.
"I'm fine. Just a little dizzy," Sam said weakly, forcing his eyes open again.
"Oh yeah, you're just peachy," Toby snapped. He winced as he felt Sam pull slightly away from him and realized how gruff he had sounded. He wasn't angry; at least not at Sam. He was just worried—very worried. Ignoring Josh's piercing look in his direction, he gave Sam a slight squeeze in apology.
"You got him?" Abby asked, diverting their attention back to her. The two of them nodded and the group made their way out of the office, through the hallways, and out of the building. The ambulance had just pulled up minus the attention-drawing siren and lights. The paramedics pulled out a stretcher, and Josh and Toby carefully maneuvered their friend onto it.
Abby once again took charge. "This is Sam Seaborn. He has a high fever, along with headache, nausea, confusion, sensitivity to light and a stiff neck…" The medic glanced at her sharply, and she nodded in apparent confirmation to his silent question. "…Symptoms of meningitis," she concluded softly. "I am by no means making a diagnosis, but he can't move his neck without great pain. It's the first thing I would test for."
For his part, Toby tried not to react to what they were saying. He didn't know much about meningitis, but he knew that Mrs. Bartlet was worried and that must mean that it was serious. He met Josh's gaze above Sam's head and could easily read the fear in his eyes. It didn't help that Sam had started fighting them, obviously not wanting to get in the ambulance. It would have been easy to subdue him in his weakened state, but neither of them had the heart to use force. The medics didn't share that sentiment, but one glare from Toby had them backing off to let Sam's friends handle him. It took a few minutes that they probably shouldn't have wasted, but they managed to coax the younger man to lie down on the stretcher.
At that point the paramedics could wait no longer and maneuvered themselves in between their patient and Josh and Toby. But Sam was already terrified by the fact that he didn't know what was happening to him, and he certainly didn't know these people. When they fastened the straps to hold him in place, he promptly panicked. Toby, Josh, Abby, and Charlie looked on helplessly as they tried to control him. After a few moments, one of the paramedics gestured for one of them to come back over, moving slightly aside to make room next to Sam. As Josh moved promptly to his best friend's side, the medic said, "Try to calm him down."
Josh hadn't needed instructions. He immediately set about the task of trying to comfort his friend, placing a hand on his hot forehead and leaning close so his words would cut through the other sounds surrounding them. "Sam it's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you. I'm right here; it's okay." Over to the side, Toby released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as Sam calmed somewhat at the reassurances. Josh continued to murmur softly as the paramedics worked.
That arrangement worked quite well—until they started to move him into the ambulance. Then Sam panicked again, straining against the straps while grasping frantically for Josh. His friend grabbed his hand, but that did little to calm him. He clearly didn't want to go. Toby wondered briefly where his deputy was finding the strength to fight as much as he was, then shrugged that thought aside as he decided that Sam had delayed his treatment long enough. He may have been frightened, but he was only hurting himself more and Josh's way was no longer working. Without allowing himself to think about it, the communications director pushed himself to his deputy's side, then did what he did best. "Sam! Stop fighting," he commanded sharply. His tone left no room for argument, and Sam slowly stilled and focused glazed eyes on his boss. Toby had to fight to keep his stern expression from crumbling, but he somehow managed. "They're helping you. Do NOT fight them, understand? Don't disappoint me here, Sam."
He still looked terrified and confused. But he managed a slight nod. Toby's heart ached, but he knew Sam would do everything in his power to keep from falling short of his expectations. So he simply nodded and gave Sam's shoulder a slight squeeze. He couldn't help whispering, "You'll be okay, kid. You have to be," before he pulled himself away and nodded to the medics. Sam kept quiet this time, and they moved him easily into the ambulance. Josh jumped in as well, nobody questioning the choice of who would go with him. His eyes connected with Toby's and he mouthed 'Thank you' before turning his attention to his friend as the doors were slammed shut.
As the ambulance pulled away, Toby reached a hand up to rub his face. He realized with a start that he was shaking. He stared at his trembling hand for a moment, and when he refocused his eyes on the ambulance disappearing in the distance, his vision was a bit blurry.
"Toby?" He quickly wiped his eyes before turning toward the soft voice. Abby stood there, looking at him with compassion. "That was a good idea. I'm sure it was hard for you."
He took a steadying breath. "Yeah." Then he shook himself, ready to move to a car and get to the hospital. As they walked, Charlie trailing behind, he asked, "What can you tell me about meningitis?"
"He might not have it. I could be wrong."
"But you don't think you are."
She glanced at him. "No."
"So, tell me about it."
"Well," she began, but was interrupted as Leo suddenly appeared in their path.
"What the hell is going on?" the chief of staff demanded. "There was an ambulance at our front door?"
"Well, technically it was at our back door."
"Whatever! Who needed an ambulance?"
"Sam," Toby responded solemnly and shortly. He wanted to get to the hospital, and had the current obstacle not been his boss he probably would have run him over already. As it was, he didn't like the delay.
Leo's eyes filled with concern. "What's wrong with Sam?"
Toby deferred to Mrs. Bartlet for that question. "They'll have to run tests at the hospital, but…his symptoms would suggest meningitis."
Leo drew in a sharp breath. "Was he conscious?"
Toby nodded. "And fighting the paramedics every step of the way. Josh went with him in the ambulance."
Leo nodded jerkily. Simply hearing the word meningitis seemed to have thrown him off balance. Toby wouldn't have thought it possible for him to get more concerned than he was, and yet it was happening. "Leo, I'd like to go…"
"Of course," his boss interrupted. "Go on to the hospital; I'll hold down the fort. Call me as soon as you know anything."
Abby said, "I'm going to go with him." Leo nodded. She continued with, "Charlie, does my husband have any idea where you've disappeared to?"
He gave a slightly sheepish smile. "No, ma'am. I suppose I should stick around and fill him in."
So Leo and Charlie took off in one direction as Toby and Abby headed in the other. They made their way to the car and started towards the hospital, complete with her driver and secret service agents. Once they were on their way, Toby turned to her again. "Meningitis?"
She took a deep breath before responding. "It's an infection of the lining of the brain. It looks like the flu at first, then escalates. The headache and high fever are signs, along with the stiff neck. The fact that he was in that much pain when he tried to rotate his head is a giveaway. The other symptoms—the nausea, confusion, drowsiness, dislike of bright lights—they all fit."
Toby nodded slowly, taking it all in. "So what will they do?"
"They'll do a spinal tap." When he looked at her in confusion, she clarified, "They stick a needle into the spinal cord in the lower back to get a sample of the spinal fluid." He winced and she smiled slightly. "Yes, it is a bit painful."
"He's going to fight that."
"Probably, if he's still conscious. That's something that big, strong orderlies are really good for."
"They'll hold him down and stick a needle in him?" he asked, an image that he didn't like at all forming in his mind.
"If they have to, but I don't think it will come to that. He'll probably be too weak to do much more than cry at the pain." He winced again, the image changing a bit but still just as disturbing. She quickly added, "But if they're lucky, he'll be too out of it to even realize what's going on."
He shook his head slightly as if that would dispel the image. "So what does this tell them?"
"If the fluid is cloudy, chances are it is meningitis. They'll go ahead and start the antibiotics while they send the fluid for lab tests. Antibiotic treatment will greatly reduce the risks."
"What exactly are the risks?"
"If he doesn't go into shock, his odds are good. The symptoms usually improve within a few hours after beginning the antibiotics."
"And if he does go into shock?"
"ICU, possibly a coma…it can be fatal, Toby."
Toby sucked in a sharp breath. Sam couldn't be dying on them. The baby of the West Wing could not be the first to leave them…they couldn't deal with that.
It was turning out to be a hellish Christmas season. He could only pray it would get better instead of taking a turn for the worse, and that all hinged on Sam.
Part 2
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