Far From Home:
Part 2
Piper
Christmas eve will find me
Where the love light gleams.
I'll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.
The world is a scary place.
That was the conclusion Sam had come to. His world had abruptly gone from stressful and generally unpleasant to terrifying enough to make him cry. He wasn't sure where he was. There was a loud wailing noise. He felt as if he were moving, but decided that wasn't possible because he was strapped to something in such a way that he couldn't move anything but his hands and arms. Oh, and his head if he so desired, but he didn't. He tried that once. The blinding pain discouraged him from doing it ever again.
There were people here. People he didn't know, the same people who had strapped him down. He didn't like them. The only thing that allowed him to fight the panic he was feeling was Josh's presence nearby. His best friend was somewhere on his left. He couldn't see him, but he hadn't let go of his hand and was speaking to him constantly. He clung to that hand and that voice. Josh wouldn't let anything happen to him.
It seemed like only moments before the wailing stopped, but he might have faded out for a few minutes. He really couldn't be sure. What he did know was that the movement seemed to stop and there came a sound of doors popping open, letting in a blast of cold air that made him shiver violently. Then the scenery was changing, and he was suddenly looking up at the sky. Josh's hand left his, and he panicked. The straps wouldn't let him move much, but he thrashed as much as they would allow. He tossed his head from side to side looking frantically for his friend, even though the movement brought instant tears to his eyes.
There were other hands on him, other voices telling him to calm down, but he refused. Then Josh was back at his side, pushing himself into Sam's line of vision and grabbing his hand again. "It's okay Sam. I'm right here. You didn't expect these guys to lift me out of the ambulance too, did you? They make us non-patients walk on our own."
Ambulance? Sam was confused. But he decided it didn't matter. The important thing was that Josh didn't leave him alone in this strange place with these strange people. He clung to the hand with all the strength he had, and the next time he started moving Josh moved right along with him.
The view changed again, this time to a sterile-looking ceiling. At least it wasn't as cold here. New faces appeared over him, a couple of women dressed in an interesting peachy color and a man with a stethoscope slung around his neck. He heard the newcomer talking to the people who had brought him in. He heard his name and Josh's, and something about how Josh was the only thing keeping him from hurting himself or them. But it was too much work to focus on the rest of what they were saying. He let his mind drift.
The next thing he was aware of was that they were undoing the straps. Hands supported him on both sides, pulling him over onto another bed-like surface. Josh's hand again pulled out of his, but this time he immediately heard Josh's voice. "I'm right here, Sam. I'm not going anywhere." The hand didn't reappear, but he knew Josh was still in the room so he endured the hands of the other people on him.
"We need to do a spinal tap," he heard one of the voices say. That didn't sound like much fun. Still, he wasn't too concerned until they rolled him onto his side…and held him there. Something cold wiped across his lower back over his spine. He didn't like this, not one bit. He tried to roll onto his back, pushing away the hands that were holding him in place. When their grip tightened he pushed harder, trying to twist out of their grasp.
"Sam, it's okay. You need to let them help you." That was Josh's voice again. Josh was still here, why didn't he stop this? Sam refused to listen this time. He got the distinct feeling that they were about to hurt him, and if Josh wouldn't help him then he would just have to help himself.
He fought. But stronger hands replaced the ones that had been holding him. Suddenly he couldn't move at all. Lacking any other methods to get himself out of this, he began to cry out. "No, no, no…" he said repeatedly, with no effect. He felt a sharp prick in his back, followed by a painful pressure. He stopped speaking, beginning to cry softly. His vision swam, but he managed to look past the man who was holding him to find Josh standing against the wall. If he had thought Josh was enjoying this he was very wrong. His best friend looked as if someone had just run over his dog, and like he would very much like to pull the giant holding him off but that he couldn't. Maybe these people really were trying to help him. Still, it hurt so much.
It seemed like an eternity before the pressure alleviated. The hands slowly released their tight grip, rolling him gently onto his back. His tears had stopped at some point and were now drying on his cheeks, leaving his face feeling cold. Josh came back to his side, rubbing his arm gently, almost apologetically. He heard the one with the stethoscope say something about cloudy fluid. He didn't know what that meant, but it didn't sound like something he wanted. He heard them mention antibiotics, and a few moments later his arm was lifted to insert what Josh told him was "just a little IV." He lay docilely this time, having spent all his energy.
His thoughts drifted again. He suddenly remembered having promised Toby that he wouldn't fight. Great, now he had given his boss another reason to yell at him. This was turning out to be his worst Christmas ever.
When he jerked back to reality, he felt different somehow. He could hardly move. For a moment he thought they might have strapped him down again, but he could feel no restraints. Why was his body not responding to what he told it to do? He tried again, with the same results. He felt a cold fear wash over him. He tried once more to move more than an inch with no luck, feeling unwelcome tears start to make their way down his cheeks. What was going on?
He felt a hand touch his cheek, wiping the tears away an attempting to ground him. "Sam? It's okay, buddy," a familiar voice said. He forced his eyes open. When had he closed them? Josh's face swam in his vision.
He suddenly had a frightening suspicion that Josh couldn't protect him here. Something was seriously wrong. He couldn't seem to make his mouth work, but he needed to tell Josh that he didn't blame him for anything and that he was a great best friend. He wished Toby was here so he could tell him that everything was all right between them, because he knew Toby was going to feel bad for the way he'd been treating him lately. And he unexpectedly wished for his father, needing him to know that he didn't hate him.
"Mr. Lyman, we need you to go to the waiting room now," he heard dimly. He couldn't see the speaker and barely grasped the words, but he knew what it meant when Josh started to move away.
"No," he said, or at least that was what he tried to say. It came out as more of a groan. He didn't want Josh to go; he didn't want to be alone. He was scared. He tried to reach for his friend, managing to lift his hand slightly in his direction.
"It's okay, Sam. They're going to take care of you. They just need me to get out of the way. But I'm going to be right outside, I'm not going to leave you, okay?"
No, it wasn't okay. But Josh was pulled away, anyhow. Now he was alone with the strangers.
Suddenly, there was a lot of beeping. Voices raised, taking on a more frantic pace, and movement around him increased. His vision started to darken around the edges, which by all rights should have frightened him more. But he suddenly didn't have the energy to care. He thought he heard someone say something about shock, then the world faded into complete darkness.
~*~
Josh had barely gotten outside the door when the commotion in Sam's room jumped up yet another notch. He turned to the nurse who had literally pulled him from the room. "What's going on?"
"They need to treat him," was her calm, succinct answer as she tried to guide him out to the waiting room.
He, on the other hand, was anything but calm. "Treat him how?" he demanded. "What's happening to him?"
She didn't respond immediately, instead walking on to the waiting room and thus forcing him to follow to get his answers. Once they were there, she sat him down before saying, "It's possible that he is going into shock." He tried to shoot to his feet, but she lightly pushed him back down. "Mr. Lyman, they'll take care of him. Let them do their job. We'll keep you updated, I promise."
He realized that they needed room to work and that they needed the worried friend out of the room in order to concentrate on their jobs. Still, he hated feeling helpless. He reluctantly nodded. "Okay…but if he gets upset again and you can't calm him down, you'll call me right? I can calm him; you don't need to restrain him."
She nodded, though he suspected she was just humoring him. She'd probably heard that before from friends or family members who couldn't stand to see their loved ones held down like that. He knew it was an image that would be sticking with him for a while. As the nurse quietly left him alone, he heaved a sigh and brought a hand up to rub his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut before pulling his hand away to stare at it for a moment. He was shaking.
He hated being in the emergency room; he hated being in the waiting room. He hated everything about hospitals. And more than anything, he hated watching Sam in so much pain. He'd been Sam's best friend and self-appointed big brother for so long that he felt everything that happened to Sam as if it were happening to him. Donna was probably right when she said he was overprotective, but it was in his nature. Sam had always had this innocence that seemed well worth protecting.
He'd promised himself long ago that anything that got to Sam would have to go through him. And ever time he failed he felt guilty. This was no exception. Sam looked horrible, almost as if he were…dying. Josh sucked in a breath, feeling a lone tear escape his eye. He reached up to brush it away in annoyance. Sam was not dying. He wouldn't let him—it was as simple as that.
"Josh?"
He jumped. He looked up to find Toby standing less than a foot away, staring at him with a look he'd never seen the Communications Director wear before. It was sort of a mixture of concern, guilt, and abject terror. "Is he…" Toby started shakily, but couldn't finish. Josh stared at him for a moment, then realized that Toby had come to find him sitting dejectedly in a waiting room chair, shaking and crying—and he knew what he must have been thinking.
"No! No, he's still with us, as far as I know." He watched as Toby heaved a sigh of relief before collapsing into the chair beside him. "They pulled me out of there. He looks so bad, Toby…"
"Don't say it. He'll be fine."
Josh wasn't sure which one of them Toby was trying to convince. As it was, he didn't think Toby truly believed it any more than he did. They both looked up as the First Lady arrived on the scene. Josh glanced back and forth between them, confused. "Didn't you ride together?"
She answered, "We had to do the security thing. And Toby jumped out of the car before it came to a full stop."
Josh glanced at Toby, who actually looked a little sheepish. Josh couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips.
"What did the doctor say?" she continued.
The smile disappeared. "Not much that I understood. They did a spinal tap. That was an experience I won't soon forget. He said the fluid was cloudy…I couldn't tell if that was good or bad."
Abby took a deep breath. "Well, it means they can be pretty sure what's wrong with him—meningitis. And knowing that, they can start treating him."
Josh nodded. "They started an IV with antibiotics."
"Good. They let you stay through all that?"
"Yes. They made me leave a few minutes after they started the IV though. Something about his pulse getting rapid and weaker…he was so pale."
He couldn't be sure, but he thought she looked a little more concerned with that description. "Let's give them a few minutes, then I'll see what I can find out," she said, taking the seat on Toby's other side.
"Someone should call his father," Toby spoke up softly.
"Do you think he's still at the White House?" Josh asked. Toby shrugged. Josh sighed, then said, "I'll call Donna and see if she can track him down. I should probably call anyhow…did anyone tell Leo or CJ what's going on?"
"We talked to Leo. I'll call Donna," Toby said, standing and striding purposefully towards the hallway.
Josh stared after him. "He needs to feel like he's doing something," Abby said. Josh looked to her, nodding his understanding. He certainly hated just sitting there. "I didn't know Sam's father was here," she continued softly.
Josh sighed again. "Yeah. He's been a little off the past few days. I thought it was on account of his Dad, and Toby's recent attitude. I was wrong. I didn't see this coming."
"Josh, this isn't your fault."
"But wouldn't it have been better if he'd had treatment sooner?"
"Yes, but you can't blame yourself. He's an adult. He knew he was sick."
"But he probably had no idea how sick."
It was her turn to sigh. "Maybe not. And his father and even Toby are probably factors, and he was likely overwhelmed. But his tendency to ignore his health is a bigger factor. And all of those factors are out of your control."
It was hard to accept that he had missed something. It was harder to accept that there was nothing he could have done anyhow. After a moment, he said, "So what you're saying is that I'm not my brother's keeper?"
She smiled slightly. "Something like that."
Toby came back then. "Donna's looking for Mr. Seaborn." He sank back into his chair between them, then addressed Josh with, "She told me to make sure you behaved. No jumping doctors who won't talk to you, and no beating Mr. Seaborn to a pulp when he gets here."
He smirked. Donna knew him too well.
It was then that the doctor appeared. Josh was no mind reader, but the look on his face was not all that comforting. He shot to his feet and felt Toby and Mrs. Bartlet do the same at his side. "We sent spinal fluid to the lab for culture, but we are fairly certain it is bacterial meningitis. We started the antibiotic treatment he needs, but had a complication with shock." He paused, letting them take that in before saying, "He's slipped into a coma."
Josh felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. "Coma?" he choked out. He looked to the First Lady. "Can that happen?"
She looked startled. "Well, yes, shock can lead to coma…"
Between them, Toby looked as shell-shocked as Josh felt. "Will he be all right?"
The doctor leveled with them. "It's too soon to tell."
Josh shut his eyes, willing this nightmare to go away. But when he opened them again, it was still there. "Can we see him?" he asked softly.
"We're going to be moving him to a ward. Give us a few minutes, and then I'll send a nurse to take you to him."
Abby nodded. "Thank you doctor."
As he walked from the room, Josh sank back into his chair, putting his head in his hands. He felt Toby sink down beside him before a hand appeared on his shoulder. Neither man spoke. It was Abby who said quietly, "I'll call and let everyone know what's going on."
There was nothing they could do but wait.
~*~
Sam was dreaming.
But for him, it was more like reliving. It felt very real.
He was 8 again, and it was almost Christmas. He and his father were braving the wilderness to find the perfect Christmas tree. Sam was walking and gazing up at one, imagining it in his living room, when suddenly he ran head on into a red flannel shirt. He stumbled back, then looked up. "Sorry, sir."
The large man chuckled and patted him on the head. "It's okay, son." Sam nodded, flashed him a smile, and moved on to look up at another tree. He felt his father gently grasp his arm, guiding him around a few other customers and thus avoiding more collisions.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the wild outdoors. But for an 8-year-old surrounded by towering evergreens, Tony's Tree Lot was close enough. Besides, as long as his father was there, it was fun. He enjoyed their quality time during the holidays more than anything.
"Dad, look!" he said excitedly, running ahead to the base of the tree in the corner of the lot. He beamed up at his father as he joined him. "It's perfect!"
His father chuckled at his enthusiasm, reaching to ruffle his hair. "Yes, Sammy. It's perfect."
He skipped along beside his father as they went to find the salesman and someone to help them tie his perfect tree on top of their car. His father paid for it, then they climbed into the car and sang Christmas carols at the top of their lungs all the way home.
When they reached the driveway, Sam jumped out and ran into the house. Without actually going past the entrance foyer, he yelled into the kitchen, "Hi, Mom! We got the perfect tree! Wait until we get it set up before you come and see it, okay?"
"Okay, Sam," came the amused voice. She was quite accustomed to that request, since it came every year. Sam liked for her to see it in all its glory in their living room instead of on top of the car—everything always had to be perfect for his mother. Sam ran back out to help his father and Mr. Watkins, the neighbor they had enlisted for muscle.
Soon, they had his tree standing of its own accord by the big picture window. As his father thanked Mr. Watkins Sam scurried around the tree, adjusting branches and needles. His father showed the kindly neighbor out, then stood watching him in amusement. When Sam was sure it was ready, he called to his mother.
She came in carrying a plate of cookies, and the first thing she did was reach to hug his father. Sam bounced impatiently, then said, "Mom, do you like the tree?"
The woman in the apron turned to face him, cookie plate in hand. "It's beautiful, Sam," she said with a big smile.
But Sam's smile had disappeared. What kind of cruel joke was this? This wasn't his mother. This woman had curly blonde hair and a younger-looking face. Why was she acting like his mother? When she balanced the plate on one hand and reached to hug him with the other, he jerked away, beginning to feel afraid. He looked to his father, but the older man didn't seem to think anything was wrong. Sam told himself that he was just dreaming and pinched himself on the arm. But he didn't wake up. He felt a cold fear wash over him. Voice trembling, he asked, "Where's Mom?"
Neither of the adults answered him. Instead his father reached for the strange woman, pulling her into his arms and kissing her passionately on the lips. Dad was only supposed to kiss Mom like that. Sam shook his head in denial, backing away from the couple. He didn't know her, and he was beginning to think he didn't know his father either.
Then suddenly, that image disappeared. He wasn't 8 anymore, but instead was sitting in his office at the White House. He was on the phone with his father; speechless as the man he had loved with all his heart and wanted more than anything to be like stammered through a confession. He'd been having an affair—for most of Sam's life. Sam couldn't find his voice, but he felt his life crumbling.
The dream slowly faded to black. But he could have sworn he still heard his father's voice, still stammering through that confession and an attempt at an apology.
~*~
Josh heard quiet talking as he neared Sam's room. He wasn't surprised; they had all refused to leave him alone. Someone was with him at all times. Josh supposed that as the President's senior staff they were getting some perks, like being allowed in his room around the clock—visiting hours or not. It had been two days and there had been no change in Sam's condition. The doctors had told them that while there was no proof that a coma patient was aware of his surroundings, talking to him or just being with him couldn't hurt. So at least one of them was always in the room, talking to him, reading to him, or simply holding his hand.
What did surprise Josh was that he didn't immediately recognize this voice. When he'd finally given in and gone to get himself some food 30 minutes earlier, he'd left Leo alone with Sam. But apparently it wasn't Leo who was in with him now. He approached the open door slowly, expecting to see a doctor checking on his friend.
But it wasn't a doctor who was sitting beside Sam. Instead the chair that had been pushed up right beside the bed now held an older man who strongly resembled the son he was speaking softly to. Josh stood at the doorway for a moment debating whether or not to go in, but Sam's father had yet to notice him. As he watched the older man take the younger one's hand in his, he had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. He slowly turned away and walked the short distance to the nearest set of chairs, deciding to give them their privacy.
He tilted his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. It had been a long day and he had no intention of going home anytime soon, so he figured he might as well try to rest while he had a chance. He didn't even hear anyone approach until a voice spoke. "Josh?"
He opened his eyes to find Donna beside him, looking at him with concern. She sat down in the chair on his left before saying, "You look awful. Let me take you home for the night."
He shook his head. He suspected that she had already known the answer before she ever opened her mouth, but she would try to take care of him anyhow. He appreciated it, but he wasn't going anywhere except back into Sam's room. They sat in silence for a moment before she asked, "Why are you out here?"
"His father's in with him." He paused, then decided to tell her what he was thinking. "He's sitting by his bed, looking so helpless. I think he's aged 10 years in the past 48 hours. But it's painfully obvious right now that he loves Sam so much. You know, until the moment I saw them together in there…I hadn't thought of my father, Donna."
She reached over and took his hand, squeezing gently. She said nothing; there were no magic words for this. When you lose someone that important, there will always be an ache in your heart, especially during the holidays. The prospect of losing Sam had easily overridden everything else in his mind, but that image of father and son had grabbed hold and refused to let go.
"You should tell Sam that when he wakes up."
He glanced at her. "What?"
"About seeing his father sitting beside him, about how much he obviously loves him. They've got to work through their problems, because it's tearing them both apart inside."
He gazed at her for a moment, then looked away. "Yeah," he said softly.
"He is going to wake up, Josh."
He hated how she did that—always knowing what he was thinking whether he said it aloud or not. It was creepy. But she squeezed his hand again, and he felt a little better.
He didn't know how long they sat in silence before the elder Seaborn emerged from the room. When he saw them, he came towards them. Josh summoned the energy to push himself to his feet as Donna did the same at his side. The older man stopped in front of them, seeming unsure of what to say. Donna saved him the trouble and spoke first. "Mr. Seaborn, you look exhausted. Why don't you let me drive you back to Sam's apartment?"
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly. "I would appreciate it, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"It's no trouble," she assured him. She turned to pick up her coat, then said to Josh; "I'll go by your apartment and bring you back a change of clothes, okay?"
He nodded gratefully. "Thanks Donna."
Sam's father looked to him. "You'll stay with him?" Josh nodded his assurance. "Good. I don't want him to be alone, but I think he would rather wake to a friend than me."
Neither Josh nor Donna knew what to say to that. It was probably true. So Josh told him good night, watching as his assistant escorted his best friend's father down the hallway before heading back into Sam's room.
He reclaimed his seat by Sam's side in the hard chair. Then he reached for the younger man's hand, squeezing it tenderly as he said, "I'm back, Sam. I promised I wouldn't leave you, and I won't." He stared at his friend's pale face and took in the tubes attached to his body, swallowing the lump in his throat that made a sudden reappearance from earlier. He couldn't believe Sam was this sick; that it had gotten this far before anyone helped him. No matter what Donna or Mrs. Bartlet said he was Sam's best friend. He should have noticed. Then Sam might not be lying here on Christmas Eve in a coma that he might or might not come out of.
He scrubbed his face with his free hand, keeping a firm hold on Sam's with his other. "I'm sorry, kid," he whispered softly. "I didn't do my job."
Sam, of course, did not respond other than to continue breathing. Josh told himself that he should be content with the breathing for now. It was a blessing in and of itself.
He couldn't help but wonder if what he had been through that day was similar to what Sam had gone through after the shooting. He remembered waking up several times to see Sam in a chair beside his own hospital bed. He had never really discussed with any of the others what he had missed during the surgery and recovery, but he could imagine that it hadn't been pleasant for his friends. He knew he had come far too close to death for comfort; a thought that still made him shiver. And though there had been no bullets this time, Sam was now in much the same position. Josh felt helpless, and he hated it.
He shook himself. Sitting there feeling guilty was not helping Sam. So, he tried to think of something he could have a one-sided conversation about. He eventually opened his mouth and just spoke from his heart. "Hey Sam, I know you're mad at your father. But he loves you. You need to set things right with him while you still can," he voice broke on the last word, and he swallowed hard before continuing. "You saw first hand what it was like for me to lose my father. You were there for me, helping me through it. Remember the funeral…"
~*~
As Josh recounted it, Sam was reliving it.
Josh hadn't told him. Donna had, at some point after Josh had abruptly vanished from the victory party. Sam would never forget the moment when she had inconspicuously pulled him aside, leaned close to avoid yelling over the music, and told him that Noah Lyman was dead. He had simply stared at her before asking her to repeat it. He was sure he had heard her wrong.
By the time he finally wrapped his mind around it, he also realized that Josh was nowhere in sight. "He left, Sam. He went to the airport," Donna said.
Sam only hesitated a second before launching into action. He sought out Leo, hating to ruin the party for him but needing him to know what was going on. Their conversation resembled his and Donna's, as he pulled Leo aside and said as quietly as possible, "Leo, Josh's father died." It occurred to him afterwards that Leo and Noah Lyman had been friends and that he might should have broken the news with a bit more compassion. But at that moment, he was thinking only of Josh.
Leo was shocked. "What? When?"
"Today, earlier…I don't know much, Leo. Donna just told me a few minutes ago. Josh has already gone to the airport," he paused, watching as Leo tried to take it all in. "I don't think he should go alone. And his mother is always calling me her second son, so…I feel that I need to be there."
Leo nodded slowly. "Okay. Of course, go."
He thanked him before immediately taking off. He had to pack a bag before going to the airport. By the time he bought a ticket and found the correct terminal, he almost missed the plane. The surprise of meeting Governor Bartlet on the way to the gate slowed him for a moment as the older man stopped to wish him a safe trip and to tell him to take care of Josh. As he continued onto the plane, he thought that the Governor was always surprising him and wondered if he would ever fully understand the man.
As he maneuvered towards the back of the coach class, he thought ironically that he had been lucky in one regard. As both of them had bought last minute tickets, his and Josh's seats were together. Thank heaven for little favors.
Josh was staring out the window when he approached. He didn't even look up at Sam as he placed his bag in the overhead compartment and sank down beside him. Nothing was said until Sam placed a hand on his friend's elbow and said gently, "Josh?"
Josh jumped about a foot, making Sam feel slightly guilty. His best friend swung his head to look at him. "Sam? Where did you come from?"
Sam stared at him for a moment, trying to decide rather to do this serious or with jokes. He settled on starting light-hearted. "Well Josh, when a man and a woman really love each other…"
"Sam," Josh cut him off, smirking slightly despite himself. "I wasn't really asking for a lecture on the facts of life. I understand those. What I don't understand is why you're here instead of on your way to California."
"Who would want to go to California when they could go to Connecticut?"
"Sam…"
They were interrupted by the pilot's voice and announcements preparing them for takeoff. Sam fastened his seatbelt and leaned back, feeling Josh's eyes still on him. But it wasn't until they were airborne that his friend spoke again. "You didn't have to do this," he said quietly.
"Maybe not. But I wanted to. Unless you don't want me to go with you…in which case I can get on another plane as soon as we land. But I'm afraid you're stuck with me for this flight."
"I think I'll survive," Josh smiled slightly. "And Mom would kill me if I sent you away. She practically adopted you the last time you visited."
Sam returned the smile and nodded, having gotten the message underlying the words. He could read Josh like a book, and Josh was glad he was here at his side. And that was where Sam would stay for the duration of this tragedy.
Josh's mother was glad to see him. She hugged them both, crying. Then she soon busied herself doting on her son and his friend. Sam felt bad about that at first, but Josh pointed out that she needed to feel needed. So as Josh dealt with funeral preparations, Sam found himself eating a lot of home-cooked meals and listening to Mrs. Lyman's memories of her husband.
Sam still had both of his parents, so this was uncharted territory for him. He didn't really know what to say or do; he mostly just stood to the side when relatives and friends came, out of the way but present if he was needed. He was worried about Josh. His friend had effectively become the man of the house, taking care of everything that needed taking care of—except himself. He wasn't sleeping, he was running himself into the ground, and Sam was fairly sure that the only reason he was eating was because he was convinced it made his mother feel better. He wasn't allowing himself to mourn. Sam felt helpless, but was forced to sit back and wait for the explosion of grief that he knew was coming.
That explosion was slow in coming. All through the funeral and graveside service, Josh was a rock. He delivered a eulogy that didn't leave a dry eye in the church—except his. He spoke with all of his relatives and comforted his mother. Sam tried to speak to him that night back at the Lyman household, but Josh had politely turned down his comfort, saying that he was fine and just needed some sleep.
It wasn't until early the next morning that things finally changed. Sam woke before dawn, unable to sleep. On his way to the kitchen he passed the open door to Josh's room. It was empty.
Sam expected to find him downstairs, but he didn't. A quick search revealed that Josh was nowhere in the house. He was beginning to get worried when he spotted a note on the kitchen counter. In it, Josh had written to his mother not to worry, that he would be home for breakfast.
Sam spent a good half-hour getting dressed and trying to figure out where Josh could possibly go at 4 AM. When the thought finally struck him, he knew immediately where his friend was, and wondered how he hadn't thought of it right away.
The cemetery was dark. Only a few lights, along with the almost full moon, illuminated the pathway. Luckily, Sam remembered well enough from that afternoon to maneuver his way to the fresh grave. In the moonlight, he could just make out the lone figure crouched beside the tombstone.
He spent a moment debating whether or not he should just leave Josh alone. But then he told himself that he hadn't come all the way to Connecticut to just sit on the sidelines while his friend was hurting. He approached slowly, but called out to him a few yards away, figuring that sneaking up on someone in a dark cemetery was a good way to get punched in the nose. "Josh?"
Josh didn't turn, or even flinch. He must have heard him coming. "Hey Sam."
Sam took that as an invitation, approaching slowly until he was standing beside his kneeling friend. The moon cast a dim light across Josh's face, and Sam easily spotted the tears that were glistening in his eyes and spilling over onto his cheeks. Josh continued to stare at the tombstone and Sam simply let the silence stand.
He watched as Josh reached out a trembling hand to trace his father's name. "He's really gone," he choked out, trying to hold back his sobs.
Sam felt tears of sympathy well up in his own eyes. He moved behind Josh and placed his hands on his friend's shoulders, squeezing soothingly. "I know. I'm sorry," he said softly.
"I've been trying to remember all day…the last time we talked…" he paused and swallowed hard before finishing weakly, "I can't remember if I told him I loved him." His voice broke, along with his tenuous grip on control. The broken sobs that followed tore at Sam's heart.
"He knew, Josh. Even if you didn't say it, he knew you loved him." Sam began kneading his shoulders, offering what comfort he could. He hated being helpless; hated knowing that there was really nothing he could do to make this better for his friend. He took a deep breath and looked up at the stars, praying for Josh. And he also thanked God for his own father. He knew someday he would be in Josh's position, and he promised himself that he would cherish his father while he still could.
The stars and the dream faded out, and Sam was again left in darkness.
~*~
Josh was still there when CJ came in on Christmas morning. She stood in the doorway for a minute and simply took in the sight. Sam hadn't moved and looked about the same. Josh had changed clothes; Donna's doing no doubt since he obviously had spent the night here. The last 2 days appeared to have finally caught up with him because he was fast asleep, head cushioned on his arm on the edge of Sam's bed. His hand still loosely clasped his friend's.
CJ didn't want to wake him, so she quietly skirted around to the other side of the bed and pulled up another chair. She shrugged out of her coat before sitting down and reaching out a hand to make gentle contact with Sam. "Hey, Spanky," she whispered softly as she rubbed his arm. "I see you're still not gracing us with your presence."
He looked so…bad. It was the only word she could come up with. It was hard to see the normally energetic deputy so still and looking so weak. She felt tears well up in her eyes and looked away, only to find her gaze resting on Josh. Sam's best friend didn't look a whole lot better than he did. She thought of how she had always envied their close friendship and marveled at their brotherly behavior; she remembered commenting once that God should have saved time and simply had them born to the same parents. But the big brother of the duo was certainly going through the wringer here. She didn't even want to consider how Josh might react if Sam didn't wake up…
She was saved from that thought as a nurse entered the room. The young brunette gave her a smile and a soft 'good morning,' adding that she needed to check Sam's vital signs. CJ nodded, wiping her eyes. The young nurse was as quiet as she could manage out of respect for the sleeping Josh, but apparently he was a light sleeper. He awoke with a jerk. She apologized, but he waved it off, saying "It's okay, I was just resting for a second."
She finished what she needed to do and left the room. It was then that Josh finally noticed CJ. He stared at her through bleary eyes, then said, "How long have you been here?"
"Good morning and a merry Christmas to you too, Josh, and I've been here long enough to see that you drool in your sleep."
"I do not," he insisted, even as he self-consciously swiped a hand at his chin. She tried to hide her smile.
As she watched he fought to wake up and soon became more serious as his gaze rested on his friend. "I don't suppose there's any change?"
She shook her head. "Not yet." She reached to tenderly stroke Sam's cheek. "But he'll come back to us. Won't you, Sam?"
"He'd better," Josh said softly.
The two of them sat in silence watching over their sick friend. After a while, CJ made an attempt to lighten the mood by launching into a recounting of a recent trip aboard Air Force One. Josh soon joined in. By the time they got to the part where Sam had tripped over Toby's briefcase and proceeded to fall into his boss, sending them both to the floor like dominos, CJ and Josh were both laughing uncontrollably.
"It isn't funny, I had bruises for a month."
They both looked towards the new voice as Toby came in from the hallway. "Morning, Toby," CJ said, still giggling as she remembered to two of them in a heap on the floor.
Toby nodded in response, giving her a look that clearly warned her to stop laughing at him. It only made her laugh harder. He shook his head and sighed before focusing on Sam. "How's he doing?"
"Still no change," Josh said. He had abruptly dropped the jovial attitude, as if just realizing where he was. "We really shouldn't be laughing."
CJ sighed softly. "Josh, if he can hear us, do you really think the only thing he should hear is us crying over him and feeling guilty?"
"That isn't all I've been doing! I've been talking about other memories…" he paused and shrugged. "It just doesn't seem right to be laughing at him."
"I wouldn't call it laughing at him. I seem to recall that Sam was laughing pretty hard himself."
Toby snorted softly, then grumbled, "Yeah, too hard to get off me. He's heavier than he looks, you know."
Josh couldn't help but smile slightly. CJ noticed and reached over to put a hand on his. "Those memories are good. He needs to hear them too, because it shows how much we care about him and helps him remember that he's got something to come back to." Josh studied the sheet for a moment before meeting her eyes and nodding slightly.
Toby broke the moment by clearing his throat, then slapping Josh lightly on the shoulder. "You look like hell."
"Gee, thanks," Josh responded sarcastically.
CJ cleared her throat, standing. "Come on, Joshua. I'll buy you breakfast."
Josh looked ready to refuse. "I ate last night."
"Oh, yes, and you only need to eat once a week, right?" Toby threw in, then said seriously, "I'll stay with him, Josh."
CJ glanced back and forth between the men. Toby had immersed himself in his work for the past two days. He'd been to visit Sam, but he hadn't gotten to spend any long periods of time with him like the rest of them had. CJ didn't know exactly what had been going on with Toby lately, but she knew that things hadn't been exactly right between him and Sam. He probably felt as guilty as Josh, if not more so. He clearly needed some time alone with his deputy; the question was whether or not Josh and his overprotective streak would let it happen.
They stared at each other for a few minutes, then Josh relented. "All right. But you call me right away if anything changes. We won't be far."
CJ leaned over to kiss Sam on the forehead. "Keep fighting Sam," she said softly.
Josh gazed at his friend. "I'll spare you the kiss, buddy. I'll be back. Don't you give up on me." He squeezed Sam's hand tightly, then turned to Toby, who was standing beside him. Instead of placing Sam's hand back on the bed, he snagged Toby's wrist and placed it in his hand. Then, giving Toby's shoulder a squeeze, he joined CJ near the door.
CJ slipped an arm around his shoulders. "Now, when you say we won't be far, you aren't thinking of the cafeteria are you? Because I am not eating hospital food," she said, speaking to Josh but glancing back and meeting Toby's gaze. She nodded to him, and he turned to Sam and sat down beside the bed. Then she turned back to Josh, determined to distract him for a couple of hours.
~*~
"You're a good deputy, Sam."
Toby had said that. Sam remembered being so shocked that he had simply looked at him and asked what he meant. Toby didn't give out praise freely. But he had known that his boss meant it, and those few little words had made his week.
In the beginning, Sam had given up a lot to be a part of these people's lives. His fiancée, his prestigious career…still, most days he didn't regret his choice. They'd had plenty of good times that made it well worth it. Yes, he and Toby had their moments when an outsider would probably swear that they were about to rip each other's heads off. But they had an underlying friendship that had stood through the most trying of times. In fact, Toby had been a major force in helping him get through the news of his father's affair.
Sam hadn't told anyone at first. He had received the phone call earlier in the day, then walked around in an angry haze until that night. Since his mind had been so preoccupied he didn't remember the details of the day, but he did recall snapping at everyone in sight. Still, things hadn't been really bad until he'd lost it with Leo. He didn't even remember what they had been arguing about, but he had lost what little patience he had and blown up.
He'd seen that look on Leo's face before; it had just never been directed at him. The situation probably would have been even worse had Toby not been there. His boss had been shocked at first. But he had recovered quickly and, having had more practice yelling, he had easily overcome Sam's voice and ordered him back to his office to wait for him.
Sam had followed that order. It occurred to him that he had no idea which of their offices Toby had been referring to, but he had no desire to go back in and ask. So he made his way to Toby's, shut the door, and sunk onto the couch as he chided himself for being such an idiot. He noticed absently that his hands were shaking.
That was when it hit him.
And suddenly it wasn't just his hands that were shaking. He tasted the salt before actually realizing that he was crying. He was overwhelmed, and try as he might he couldn't regain control.
That was how Toby found him a few minutes later. He had undoubtedly had quite a lecture planned, but he didn't get to use it. Later, Sam would marvel at the fact that he had actually rendered the great Toby Ziegler speechless. But at that moment, he just buried his face in his hands and fought twice as hard to control his sobs.
Toby was probably feeling just as awkward as he was, if not more so. But he quietly shut the door, closed the blinds, and sat down beside his deputy. Without a word, he placed a hesitant hand on Sam's back and began rubbing in small, comforting circles.
Sam finally got himself back under control, drawing in shallow, hiccuping breaths as the sobs ceased. He hadn't cried like that since he was a child, and he was more than a little embarrassed about his boss having witnessed it. He didn't look up, instead staring at the floor and his feet.
"What's going on, kid?" Toby asked gently, the comforting hand still on his back.
Sam shook his head, not trusting his voice and not wanting to talk about it anyhow. He thought it was ridiculous that he was as torn up about this as he was. It wasn't like someone had died.
Beside him, Toby sighed softly. "You don't have to tell me. But Sam, what just happened in there…it can't happen again." Even though it was a rebuke he said it gently, without any of the gruffness he was so famous for.
Sam nodded again. He knew he couldn't go around yelling at Leo. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Toby nodded, still looking quite concerned. "It's okay. Whatever's going on, Leo will understand." He paused, then said awkwardly, "I want you to know that you can talk to me. You know, if you want…well, I'm here."
Sam couldn't help the small smile that graced his face. "Thanks, Toby. Really, I'll be okay. It's not a big deal."
Toby looked like he didn't believe him, but he let it go. "All right. Go back to work. I'll square things with Leo."
Sam stood, heading for the door. Before he left, he turned back to say softly, "Thanks again." Then he was gone.
He knew Toby was still worried. He knew that he would be if their situations were reversed. So he wasn't all that surprised when Josh came sauntering into his office the next day, shutting the door before sitting down. A small smile played across Sam's lips as he said, "Toby called for reinforcements, huh?"
"Toby? Toby who?"
"That would be the Toby who called you and told you that something's wrong with me and that he wanted you to check it out."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. But since you brought it up, what's wrong with you?"
Sam sighed. "Nothing a time travel machine couldn't cure."
Josh cocked his head. "And exactly how far back would we have to go?"
"Twenty-eight years."
"Um…okay. What happened twenty-eight years ago that you're just now having a breakdown about?"
"I am not having a breakdown."
"Really? I never would have thought that screaming at Leo and sobbing in Toby's office classified as normal behavior for you."
Sam groaned. "Does the entire West Wing know?"
"No. Believe me, I would have heard it from Donna if they did. Toby just told me so I could help."
"Ah, so you admit that Toby called you."
Josh rolled his eyes. "Okay, now that we're right back where we started from, will you please talk to me?" He grew more serious. "You know you can tell me anything, Sam. What happened 28 years ago?"
Sam took a moment, then said in a small voice, "My father started having his affair."
Josh stared at him for a minute, shocked. "Your father had an affair?"
"Is having an affair. Present tense. Present and past tense—for the past 28 years."
"Oh, Sam…how did you find out?"
Sam stood, no longer able to sit still, and began pacing around the room. "He called me. He said that he felt he should, what with Mom finding out and all. He thought she might need a shoulder to lean on. So nice of him to think of her feelings, don't you think?" he said bitterly, stopping in front of Josh's chair. "She's a wreck, Josh."
"You're not the picture of stability yourself, buddy," Josh said gently, standing as well. "I'm sorry, kid. How can I help?"
There really was nothing he could do, and they both knew that. "Well, if you could work on that time machine for me…"
Josh smiled, happy to see his humor still intact. "I'll get right on that. But you know me and machines…it might send us to the moon instead of 1973."
"Well in that case, maybe you could just be around if I need someone to talk to."
"Always." Josh pulled him into a quick, hard embrace before heading for the door. "It'll be okay, Sam."
"Yeah," he said, without much conviction.
He spent the next day playing vindicate the spy with Donna's friend, Stephanie. Only in the end, he didn't get to vindicate anybody, and he lied to Stephanie. He spared her a pain that had become very familiar to him—the pain of betrayal. After she left Josh, Donna, and Toby committed themselves to getting him drunk and putting him to bed. He was all for dulling that pain, but he had something to do first.
Calling his father was hard for him. He fought for every word. In the end, he hadn't said much more than 'hello' and 'goodbye.' His father did most of the talking, stumbling through an apology. Sam accepted it, although his forgiveness sounded empty even to his own ears. But he knew his father felt a bit better, and at least they were on speaking terms. He gave himself some credit for not slamming the phone down this time.
"Feel better now?"
Sam jumped. "Give me a heart attack, why don't you?" he said accusingly. As Toby came into the office, he added, "I thought you left with Josh and Donna."
Toby shrugged. "I had forgotten to take care of something," he said defensively.
Sam looked down, hiding his smile. Toby was taking care of him, whether he would admit it or not. "Let me get my coat, and we can go."
As he stood and headed for the coat rack, Toby asked quietly, "Are you okay?"
Sam sighed, turning to face Toby. "I will be. It still hurts." He paused then said, "It's a stupid thing to get so upset over, huh?"
"No. Sam, it isn't stupid for you to be upset. It isn't really about the affair; it's about the betrayal of trust. Not to mention the realization that your father isn't perfect."
"I knew he wasn't perfect," Sam protested, then thought about it. Yes, he had known that academically, but it had never really been proven to him on an emotional level before.
"He's human. And he lied."
"He lied a lot."
"Yes, he did. About that aspect of his life. It doesn't mean that everything was a lie; it doesn't mean he doesn't love you and your mother. He's still your father."
Sam felt unwelcome tears welling up and quickly turned from Toby to put his coat on. "He has a hell of a way of showing his love."
When Toby spoke again, his voice was closer. "It has nothing to do with you Sam. It affects you, but it isn't about you. Until a few days ago, did you believe that he loved you more than anything in the world?"
Sam didn't trust his voice. With his back still to Toby, he nodded jerkily.
"Okay. He still does, Sam. I promise you that. I may never have met him, but I know you. And if he raised you, then he must be a good father."
Sam drew in a shaky breath and then bit his lip, turning to face his boss and friend. Toby looked at him with compassion then continued with, "You may not be able to forgive him right now. That's okay. You will someday."
They stood in silence for a minute until Sam was able to speak. "Thanks," he said softly, a bit in awe of Toby at that moment.
Toby nodded, reached out to squeeze his shoulder, and then began coaxing him towards the door. "Come on. Let's go get you drunk." They walked from the office, Sam feeling considerably better than he had before their talk. Yeah, a night with his friends was exactly what he needed. And someday, he would come to terms with this whole thing and forgive his Dad.
The image faded out, and then it was just Toby. He had his head bowed and his eyes shut tightly—an unusual position for the Communications Director. It caused Sam to study him closer. It was then that he noticed the shaking shoulders and the small drops slipping down his cheeks. Toby was crying.
Sam was unaccustomed to seeing Toby like this. His boss was always in control, and if it ever happened that he wasn't, then he was yelling at everyone in sight. This was different. Sam felt the need to comfort him, especially since he had an inexplicable suspicion that he was somehow the cause of this.
He tried to speak, but no words came out. He tried to reach for him, but couldn't move. He felt frustration creeping in and took a moment to calm down. He decided to concentrate on something smaller. He could feel Toby's hand clasping his. If he could just move his fingers…
~*~
Toby was tired.
While he hadn't spent the last two nights at the hospital like Josh, he hadn't exactly been sleeping, either. He had been stressed before Sam had gotten sick, but at some point since they had brought him to the hospital Toby had moved past the point of pain and was now just walking around in a haze. He was unable to sleep, his thoughts consumed with the way he had been treating Sam and the unthinkable thought that he might never get the chance to make up for it.
He bowed his head, then was surprised when a bit of moisture hit his arm. He soon found himself in the situation Sam had been in in his office so many months earlier. He couldn't stop his tears.
Suddenly, he felt a slight pressure against his fingers. He looked up quickly, gaze resting on their hands, half-afraid that he had imagined it. But sure enough, Sam's fingers had curled around his. "Sam?" he whispered tentatively.
As he watched, the big blue eyes slowly flickered open, staring unfocused at the ceiling for a moment before moving to find Toby. Recognition crept into his gaze and he smiled slightly before croaking, "Toby." His voice was weak and soft, but it was still music to the Communications Director's ears.
"Sam," he repeated, at a loss for words.
Sam fought to lift his hand, bringing it up to Toby's face to swipe at a tear. "What's wrong?" he asked weakly.
Toby couldn't help the huge smile that spread across his face. "Nothing, kid. Everything's great now." He ruffled Sam's hair, then reached for the call button. As they waited for the nurse, he studied his young deputy. "I'm sorry, Sam. For everything in these past few weeks."
"It's okay," Sam said. His expression told Toby that he meant it.
Toby knew he still owed him an explanation and a longer apology, but for the moment this was enough for him. "Merry Christmas, Sam," he said tenderly.
Sam gave him a confused look. "Christmas?"
"You've been…sleeping for a couple of days."
The nurse came in then as Sam pondered how he could have lost a few days. She sent for the doctor, and soon they had a roomful of medical personnel. After being pushed aside, Toby promised Sam he'd be right back and slipped from the room to call Josh.
The phone only rang once before Josh answered. "Hello?"
"Josh, it's Toby."
"What happened? Is he okay? I knew I shouldn't have left! Is he…"
"Josh!" Toby interrupted. "Take a breath. It's okay; he's awake."
A pause, then, "He's awake?"
"Yes," Toby said, then was forced to hold the phone away from his ear as Josh yelled, "He's awake!" with joy. In the background, he could hear CJ repeat the phrase yet again and then join in on Josh's celebration. He shook his head and smiled as he waited for Josh to come back to the phone.
"We'll be right there!"
"Josh, call the others for me okay? I'm going to go back in with him."
"Sure."
It wasn't long before Sam was sitting up in bed and laughing weakly with his roomful of visitors. Being as how the President of the United States was one of them, the nurses tolerated it for about 15 minutes. Then they came in, apologized profusely to President Bartlet, but insisted that they all get out and let the patient rest. As said their good-byes and headed out, Sam's father lingered behind.
Toby got to the elevator before he realized he'd forgotten his gloves. He made his way back to Sam's room, but paused in the doorway. Neither Sam nor his father noticed him. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but his instinct to protect Sam kicked in and he felt the need to be sure he didn't get hurt here. So he watched, and listened.
"Merry Christmas, son," Mr. Seaborn said, tears evident in his voice.
Sam stared up at him, a sleepy smile on his lips. "Dad, I need you to know…Someday is here."
"What?" his father asked, obviously ready to assume that he was a bit doped up and not thinking clearly. But Toby knew what he was talking about, and he sucked in a breath.
Sam continued weakly, "Toby said…someday…I'd be ready to truly forgive you. I had all these dreams, and well…I'm ready…it's done. I forgive you."
The father reached a hand out to the son, stroking his forehead gently. "Thank you, Sammy. I love you."
"I know, Dad. I love you too."
As the elder Seaborn reached down to carefully hug his son, Sam looked over his father to see Toby standing there. He locked eyes with him and smiled.
Toby smiled as well, then turned away. He could live without his gloves. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt that reunion. It was the best Christmas present Sam could get. He deserved it after giving the rest of them the best gift they could have asked for: he had come back to them.
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