Friends, a west wing fanfic

Fanfic: Friends

Friends
Jane Harper
RATING: PG-13
SYNOPSIS: Three women with a man in common learn to bridge what
separates them. Add some Sam angst for good measure.
ARCHIVE: Sure. Just let me know where. HTML version available.
DISCLAIMER: One of these characters is mine. The rest belong to the
Evil Genius and his minions. I do this for fun, so please don't sue me.

Josh Lyman loved flying solo. Since his first long weekend standing in for his boss, he had done so successfully several times, and currently had the reins while Leo was away with the First Family strategizing for the new session of Congress. It was very quiet this Friday afternoon as the week was winding down and the lid slipping down for the weekend. Toby Ziegler was taking a well-deserved long weekend off and had already left. CJ Cregg was making her final few calls and was playing hostess for the weekend to an old friend from Berkeley. Sam Seaborn was the only one of the Senior Staff who had plans to be anywhere near the White House that weekend. He intended taking advantage of the quiet to begin work on the next State of the Union, so he had left early that Friday. The West Wing was nearly empty.
The last rays of sunshine were cutting the winter sky when Josh's assistant knocked at his door and entered.
"'T's up, Donna?" He put down the memo he had been commenting on.
"Phone, Josh. Somebody looking for Leo. Don't know why she just didn't leave a message—"
Josh waved his hand at Donna as he picked up the phone. "Joshua Lyman," he said.
A woman's voice came through the receiver. "I'm looking for Leo McGarry."
"He's out of town," Josh responded. "I'm his deputy."
The woman was insistent. "I have to reach him."
"I didn't catch your name, Ms. .. ??"
"Dr. Emily Levenson. It's about his daughter."
"Is she all right?" Josh's brow furrowed with concern.
"I need to speak to Mr. McGarry right away. Is there a number where he can be reached?"
"He's out of the District, Dr. Levenson, but I can reach him immediately and have him call you back. I'm going to put you on hold and my assistant will take your number." He pressed a button on the phone, and continued. "Donna, take a number where Dr. Levenson can be reached. I'm going to call Leo."

There were times when Leo just loved to watch his best friend work, when Bartlet was in fine form, mind razor-sharp, wit at the ready, enjoying the thrust and parry of argument. Of course, during most of those times, he was the sparring partner, and he hated to lose but often did. That was the way it had been all afternoon, and the two men were beginning to wear down.
Abbey Bartlet stuck her head around the door to the study where the two men had been conferring, and asked, "Anybody hungry?"
The President nodded in assent. "How about you, Leo?"
McGarry stood, tossing his yellow pad down onto the ottoman. "Definitely." He waited for the First Couple to precede him to the dining room, but was interrupted by the chirp of his cell phone. "I'll be there in a minute!" he called to the departing pair.
"Yeah," he answered.
"Leo, it's Josh."
"Yeah?"
"I just got a call –" Lyman hesitated. "It's about Mallory."
McGarry's breath caught for a moment. "What about Mallory?"
"I don't know, a doctor called here looking for you and said she needed to talk to you about Mallory –"
"How can I reach her?" he asked, and scratched the information down, then hung up on Josh and punched in the doctor's number. A woman answered on the first ring.
"Dr. Levenson."
"Doctor, this is Leo McGarry. You were looking for me, something about my daughter?"
"Yes, Mr. McGarry. Are you in the area?"
"No, I'm in New Hampshire. What's wrong with my daughter?"
"You should probably make plans to come back, Mr. McGarry. She's very ill."

Sam Seaborn was fast asleep, dreaming of coconut oil and hot towels. . . until a ringing phone woke him.
"Sam Seaborn," he said into the receiver.
"Sam," Leo said.
"I thought you were in New Hampshire," he responded.
"I am. Listen Sam . . . are you OK?"
"Yeah, I was just asleep. 'T's up?"
"It's Mallory. She's in the hospital . . ."

Sarah Cooper was in the longest, dullest meeting of her life, surrounded on one side by computer folks and on the other by hospital folk and the Vice President was at the end of the table, trying to stay awake. The meeting had droned on since a little after one, with absolutely no useful conclusions reached. Hoynes looked at his watch, and cut off discussion with a wave of his hand.
"I don't think we're getting a lot done here," he began. "Sarah?"
"Sir, we have some real compatibility problems, and I'm not sure that the user interface will work for healthcare providers. I'd advise another round of RFP's. Maybe we can lure somebody out of the woodwork who would be able to give us solutions instead of work-arounds."
"Ok, then, everybody, that's it. Janeane will be in touch about our next get-together."
The Vice-President rose and started off to his own office. At the conference room door, he stopped and turned back toward the assembly. "Sarah? A minute?"
She followed him into his office, watching as he took off his dark blue suit jacket and loosened his tie.
"I saw the alarm bells you were sounding," he said, smiling. "Somebody trying to pull my leg?"
"Yes, sir," she answered. "The software vendor is trying to pawn the compatibility problems off on the hardware, and vice versa. They think you just came into town on the turnip truck."
"I did," Hoynes answered, "at least as far as this is concerned. But you didn't."
"No, sir. And that's why you hired me." She grinned up at him.
A rap at the door announced the Vice-President's secretary. "Sarah?" she asked. "There's a call for you. It's Mr. McGarry."
"You can take it here if you like," Hoynes said.
Sarah rolled over to the big mahogany desk and picked up the blinking line.
"Leo?" she asked. "What's wrong?" She knew he wouldn't call her at
work unless there was a problem.
"It's Mallory. She's in the hospital. Something about her brain. I'll be there as soon as I can . . ." His voice broke. "Sam's on his way, he'll come get you."
"Did you call Jenny?"
"Oh God," he responded, "no, I didn't think . . ."
"I'll take care of it," Sarah said.
"But you two—"
"She needs to know. Do you have her number?"
"It's in my Rolodex. Margaret— Damn, I gave Margaret the weekend off. Josh will know—."
"It's OK, Leo. I'll get it. And listen, don't get any ideas about flying yourself home. You're in no state."
"It'll be tomorrow sometime before I can get there—" his voice trailed off into a quaver.
"It'll be all right. You just worry about getting back here in one piece. I'll see you tomorrow." She hung up the phone, and turned to see Hoynes regarding her with questioning eyes. "It's Leo's daughter," she said. "She's sick, I have to go."
"Not serious, I hope."
"I don't know, sir. May I . . . ?" she nodded toward the door.
"Of course, Sarah. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
"Thank you, sir."
Sarah tore back to her own office and called Josh.
"Josh Lyman's office," she heard Donna answer.
"Donna, it's Sarah Cooper."
"Hi Sarah! How are you?"
"I'm fine but I need something in a hurry. Somebody told me— Do you have Jenny McGarry's number?"
"Yeah, hold on a second."
Sarah wrote the number down, grabbed her briefcase and headed for the elevator.

Sam's car was waiting by the time Sarah got to the Pennsylvania Avenue entrance. He parked in a red zone and helped her in, stowing her chair in the back seat.
"Sam, you got your cell?"
"Yeah, here." He reached into his jacket pocket and gave it to her.
He had to work at paying attention to traffic, because all he could think about was Mallory. Lying on a gurney. In a hospital. Hadn't there been enough of hospitals this year? Sam had almost lost his best friend, and now . . .
Something broke through his consciousness; it was Sarah's voice.
"Mrs. McGarry? My name is Sarah Cooper, I'm a friend of Leo's."
The brick in his stomach got bigger; he'd forgotten that on top of everything else he was going to have to face Leo's ex-wife. She'd had it in for him since— Well, since a long time. She'd never approved of his relationship with her daughter. It had been Leo's encouragement, however backhanded at times, that had given him the courage to pursue Mallory at all.
"She'll meet us at the hospital," he heard.
"You know she can't stand me."
"Let's not worry about that right now. You have something very important in common, and for the time being anybody who loves Mallory is a friend of hers."
"Is she OK?"
"Hard to tell, since we've never met, but I'd say it's a safe bet that she feels like she just got kicked in the gut."
They pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Jenny McGarry had no idea how she had gotten to the hospital, only that she was there. All she could think about was her daughter— The nurse escorted her into a cubicle in the Emergency Department. Someone was talking to her, but she didn't hear. All she could hear or see was her little girl, lying there flushed and still. And then they came in . . . that Seaborn fellow who had tried to pick her up at a party . . . and a woman in a wheelchair. She wondered if that was Leo's "friend".
"Hello, Sam," she finally said.
"Mrs. McGarry," he responded, keeping his distance.
The woman in the wheelchair spoke. "Mrs. McGarry, I'm Sarah Cooper. I wish we could have met under better—"
"It would have suited me fine had we not met at all. Do you know when my husband will be arriving?"
"He's in New Hampshire, ma'am," Sam answered. "It may be tomorrow morning before he can get here."
"Typical," Jenny said. "I shouldn't have expected anything else."
A red-haired woman in scrubs walked up to the group. "Are you Mrs. O'Brien's family?"
It took Jenny a minute to realize that the woman was talking about Mallory; it had been so long since she heard her daughter called "Mrs. O'Brien". Finally, she shook her head. "I'm her mother. What's wrong with my little girl?"
"Perhaps we could sit down in the family room," the newcomer said.
Jenny planted her feet firmly where she stood. "Perhaps you could tell us what the problem is."
"Ma'am, your daughter has West Nile Encephalitis. It's a brain infection."

Mallory wasn't sure where she was, or exactly what she was seeing or hearing. She had been finishing up an after-school conference with a parent when she had a dizzy spell and sat down. After that . . .?? She remembered hearing people shouting, and a siren, and it was like floating in marshmallow cream.
Mama? She wondered if that was her mother's voice. It sounded like her mother's voice . . . and yet it didn't. Mama, I'm scared! Her mother was angry at someone. And who else was that .. Sam? Sam, I'm OK sweetheart, can't you hear me? She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she couldn't seem to get her arm to move.
And it was so hot. How did it get so hot in January? She thought it was still January. It had been January when she sat down in her classroom . . .

Sarah was stunned. She had read about West Nile encephalitis; an outbreak in New York City last year had hit seventy people. But it didn't usually cause this kind of serious sickness.
"Dr. . . . " she looked for the redhead's nametag. "Dr. Levenson, are you sure? West Nile doesn't usually . . ."
"Are you a physician, Ms. . . .?"
Jenny interrupted. "She's Mallory's father's girlfriend."
Sarah knew from experience what the doctor must have thought then – it was common enough to have to deal with several family groups when someone was seriously ill. She remembered one patient who had three women all claiming to be his wife: an ex-wife, a current wife, and a girlfriend. But she didn't care. Mallory had become her family.
"I'm a critical care nurse," Sarah answered.
Levenson eyed Sarah's wheelchair. "You are?"
"I was. And I still keep up. Did you do an LP?"
"Yes, and it's gone out for PCR. But we're pretty sure this is West Nile." Levenson seemed to relax.
Sam put an arm around Sarah's shoulders. "What is she saying, Sarah?" he asked.
The doctor turned to him. "And you are . . .?"
"Mallory's fiancé," he answered.
Jenny shot him a scowl, and Sarah could almost hear her thinking "Over my dead body." Neither woman said anything.
"Sarah?" Sam said again.
She took Sam's hand. "It's a virus. You get it from a mosquito bite, which is why I'm not convinced yet that it's real, because who gets mosquito bites in January?"
Sam looked down at his shoes. "People who escape to Florida for the weekend?"
"Oh, Sam," she responded. "Is that where you went?"
He nodded wordlessly.
She turned back to Dr. Levenson. "Are you sending her to the ICU?"
"No beds," Levenson answered.
Jenny turned purple. "What?" she cried out. "Do you know who her father is?"
The doctor's voice dropped. "Ma'am, I couldn't get her into the ICU with a request from the President of the United States."
"That's too bad," Jenny responded. "I could get you one."
Sarah interrupted. "Dr. Levenson, where are you going to admit Mallory?"
"I'm putting her on Step-Down."
Sam shot Sarah a confused look. "It's almost Intensive Care. Better than the wards." She turned back to the doctor. "I'd appreciate it if you'd write an order explicitly permitting me to stay with Mallory. That way she'll have what amounts to a private nurse."
Jenny looked down at Sarah. "You'd do that for her?"
"Mrs. McGarry, Mallory has become my family too."

Jenny couldn't quite believe what she had been seeing all night. After sending Sam home with a promise to call if he was needed, Sarah had spent hours sponging Mallory's feverish body, propping her into what looked like a comfortable position, chasing down the nursing staff when something needed to be done that she couldn't do herself. Together the two women had slept in shifts, Sarah waking every couple of hours to take Mallory's temperature, check her blood pressure and her IV, make sure her kidneys were working; then she would doze off while Jenny sat by Mallory's bedside, stroking her hand, singing softly or just talking to her little girl.
During the night the two women had started to talk to one another, as well. They had just turned Mallory over on her side and were propping her up with pillows, when Jenny began to reminisce. "She didn't get the chicken pox until she was ten. She was miserable, so feverish and itchy; she spent hours just sitting in the bathtub. Leo and I—"
Catching herself, she looked over at Sarah.
"It's OK," Sarah said. "It doesn't do either of us any good – or Mallory either for that matter – to pretend that the three of us don't have someone very important in common."
They settled Mallory down onto her cushions and covered her lightly with a sheet.
Jenny nodded. "I still love him, you know."
"I couldn't imagine otherwise," Sarah answered. "And I don't pretend that I have any claim on him that's anywhere as deep as the bond he feels with you and with Mal. He just touched something in me that had been hiding for a long time, and I'm grateful for whatever time we have."
Sarah wheeled out from around the other side of Mallory's bed and came to face Jenny. She smiled as she leaned over to whisper in the other woman's ear. "That doesn't mean I'm not gonna put up a fight, though."
Jenny was taken aback, then started to laugh. The exchange was so surreal that it hit her funny-bone square-on, and the two women both laughed until tears escaped their eyes. Finally, wiping her cheeks with her index finger, she leaned over conspiratorially and said, "Sarah, I'm really glad he's found someone." Winking, she finished, "I just wish to hell he'd waited a little longer!"

Sam walked into Mallory's hospital room just after first light, and he couldn't believe what he saw. Jenny was asleep in an armchair in one corner, and Sarah was covering her up with a thin white blanket, smoothing back her tousled hair.
"Cease fire?" he whispered, kissing Sarah on the cheek.
"Armistice," she responded.
"You're kidding."
"Nope. Fighting a common enemy is the surest way to bring adversaries together."
Sam shook his head. "How's Mal? She looks better, not as flushed."
"Her fever broke a couple of times during the night, and she's been a little restless for the last hour or so. That's a good sign. I'd expect her to get a little antsy before she wakes up."
Dr. Levenson swooped in just as Sam's cell phone rang. As the physician examined Mallory with Sarah at her side, he answered it.
"Sam Seaborn."
"Sam, this is the President. You at the hospital?"
"Yes sir."
"Has Leo gotten there yet?"
"No sir. Sarah Cooper is here, and Mallory's mom, and the doctor just came in."
"Are they taking good care of her?"
"Well, sir, there seemed to be a little confusion last night, they couldn't find a bed for her in Intensive Care. Sarah and Mrs. McGarry spent the night here making sure Mallory got what she needed."
"Why couldn't they put her in Intensive Care?"
"The doctor said there were no beds. In fact, she said she couldn't put Mallory in the ICU even if she got a request from the President of the United States." A broad grin spread across his features.
"Let me talk to her," Bartlet said.
Sam walked over to where Levenson and Sarah were huddled. "Doctor? This is for you." He looked over at Sarah and winked, then took her hand with his free one and squeezed it.
With a confused look, the redheaded physician took the cell phone from Sam's grasp. "Dr. Levenson," she said.
Sam waited for the reaction. It wasn't long in coming.
"Excuse me? . . . Yes, sir, Mr. President! . . . Yes sir, she's getting the very best care we can give her. . . . She's doing much better this morning, sir. . . . Yes, sir, feel free to call us anytime." Visibly shaken, she handed the phone back to Sam.
"Yes, sir?" he asked, stifling a laugh.
"I trust we won't have any more problems," Bartlet said with a chuckle.
"No, sir, I expect not. Do you want Leo to call when he gets in?"
"Yes, please, Sam. And give Jenny my best."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. President."
Bartlet's end of the line went dead and Sam put the cell back in his pocket.
Levenson was still shaking her head as she left the room, muttering "I thought they were kidding . . ."

It was a little before eight when Leo exploded into Mallory's hospital room and ran over to her bedside. "Somebody tell me what's happening," he demanded.
Jenny opened one eye, still half-asleep where Sarah had tucked her in earlier. "What's happening is that you're late, again."
"Don't start with me," he snapped, moving rapidly from frightened to furious.
Sam stood up slowly and began in a low voice. "Both of you – stop it! This is not about you, this is about Mal. She needs all of us together, not hissing at one another."
"You're right," Leo responded. "I'm sorry. Where's the doctor?"
Sarah rolled over toward where he was standing. "She's been by already this morning."
"She only comes in once a day?" He could feel his blood pressure rise.
Taking his hand, Sarah went on. "No, she'll come any time we need her, but she's already made her rounds this morning."
He looked over at Mallory, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand. Voice breaking, he asked, "What's wrong with her?"
Sarah kept holding his free hand as she explained. "She has encephalitis; that's an infection of the brain. It's from a virus we think she may have picked up last weekend water-skiing. She's probably unconscious because the infection has made her brain swell a little bit, but as the infection goes away the swelling will go down. She's not showing any signs of any complications. We're treating her symptoms, her fever and dehydration, and otherwise all we can do is wait." She laid Leo's hand on the bedrail and pulled back.
He had heard the words but he didn't understand. Brain swelling? How could anybody survive brain swelling? All he knew was that his baby, his only living child, was terribly, terribly ill.
He looked over at where Jenny was sitting, as she rose to her feet and came over to stand beside him. He folded her in his arms and the two of them looked down at their daughter.
"Leo," she said, "I'm scared."
"Me too," he answered, kissing her on the forehead. He heard the door close behind him as he and Jenny held one another.

Mallory could hear someone crying. Daddy? Couldn't be her Daddy, she'd never seen him cry. Well, maybe once, when he had to tell Mom about needing to go back to rehab. She had been in college then, and she had been so ashamed. But there was nothing for Dad to cry about now! She tried to open her eyes, tried to reach out to him, but couldn't get her body to move the way she wanted it to. Just noise. Doors closing, something beeping, voices in the distance.
Sam? She heard Sam's voice, far away, growing farther. Don't go, she wanted to cry out, and couldn't. Mama, did you send him away? She knew her mother didn't much like her dating Sam; it had something to do with a fund-raiser and mistaken identity.
She heard her mother talking, clearer now.
"Leo, what happened to us?"
"I had to make a choice, Jenny. You asked me to make a choice, and there was nothing else I could do."
"Nothing else?"
"No, not for right now. I'll never get the chance to make this much of a difference, ever again. I'll never get the chance to give this much back."
Silence, and breathing.
"Are you happy?" she heard Jenny ask.
"Mostly. You met Sarah."
"She's quite a woman, Leo. She said if I wanted you back I'd have a fight on my hands."
"I wouldn't be surprised, she's a scrapper." She heard a smile in her father's voice, then another pause. "Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Want me back."
"Not like this. I can't live like that, like we were. It was as if you were having an affair, but I couldn't scratch her eyes out because 'she' was the President of the United States."
"Now wait a minute—"
"You know what I meant."
"Yeah. That's not likely to change, Jenny. I'm in this for the long haul, two more years, hopefully six."
"Then?"
"I don't know."
Another silence, then her mother's voice. "Do you love her?"
Mallory finally got her hand to move.

Sarah and Sam had slipped out of Mallory's hospital room to leave the family alone. She didn't know how she felt about seeing Leo and Jenny together like that, although she knew she should understand. Not being a parent, she had no idea how they were feeling.
"Sarah, I'm not taking no for an answer," Sam said. "You've been up all night. You're going to have some breakfast then I'm taking you home. There's nothing else you can do today."
Halfway through her scrambled eggs, she realized she was really tired. Bone, dog-tired, and she would be glad to go to sleep, except that she couldn't get that image out of her head.
Sam was pushing his breakfast around his plate, absentmindedly staring off into space.
"Penny for your thoughts," she said.
"Sarah, I—" he swallowed, hard, then stood up. "C'mon, we need to get you home."
She rode quietly back to her apartment with him, and invited him in for some coffee.
"You don't need coffee, Sarah," he said as he hung his overcoat on the coat tree. "You need sleep."
"Wild horses couldn't keep me awake, Sam. You, however, look like you could use some java." She wheeled into her kitchen and put the coffeemaker on, then came back into the living room and transferred herself over next to Sam on the sofa.
"Now," she continued, taking his hand, "you were about to tell me something before we left the hospital. What's up, my friend?"
He took a deep breath and began. "Sarah, I don't know where this thing is going with Mal and me."
"You don't know where it's going?" she echoed.
"We're stuck in neutral. I really care about her, but she seems . . . ambivalent. One minute she's passionate and caring, the next distant and standoffish." He sighed. "Not to mention that her mother hates me."
Sarah couldn't keep from giggling. "That's OK, her mother hates me too."
"I thought the two of you—"
"You gotta be kidding. At best it's an armed truce. I'd be willing to bet that right now she's whispering in Leo's ear about how once he's left the White House behind, everything could go back to being like it was."
"Whatever makes you think that?" Sam took off his glasses to clean them on his sweater.
"Because she's still ape-shit over him. But right now we're talking about you and Mal." She started to move back over into her chair so she could go pour the coffee.
"You stay down," Sam said. "I'll get the joe."
"You know, Sam, I understand why Mallory is so ambivalent: her grandfather was an alcoholic and a suicide, her father is an alcoholic and an addict and was emotionally unavailable for most of her youth, and her late husband died on her. But I'm not sure knowing that would make you feel any better."
He walked back over to the sofa and sat down next to Sarah, then sat and stared into his coffee cup. "I just don't know how much more I can handle. First Josh, now Mal – " He turned to look at her with glistening eyes.
She slid over until their hips were touching, then she leaned in and slipped her arms around his waist. "She'll be fine, Sam. I know it in my bones. I've seen a lot of people with all kinds of neurological problems, and I'd bet you next week's pay that she'll wake up today or tomorrow.'
He leaned over and put his arm around Sarah's shoulder. "I'm gonna believe you, Mom, because mothers know best . . . and because if I thought differently I'd go throw myself on the third rail."
They both laughed. Sam had started calling Sarah "Mom" a few months back, as a joke because she would nudge him about taking better care of himself. The gag was fortified by her involvement with Leo and his with Mal, but as she sat there curled up with him, her face on his shoulder, surrounded by his warmth and his scent, she started having feelings that were decidedly not maternal. Just as she was deciding she'd better pull away, his cell-phone rang.
Saved by the bell, she thought. What the hell was I thinking?

Sam's head was spinning. A minute ago he had been about to cry, wondering if his relationship with Mallory would ever go anywhere, but before you could say 'Jumpin' Jack Flash' his hormones had kicked in and he was thinking some solidly un-filial things about a woman he'd adopted as a surrogate mother. Was it the way her hand rested on his heart? Was it the fragrance of her hair on his shoulder? Was it the pain he could see in her face when she thought of Leo and Jenny back together?
Thank God, he thought as his cell phone rang and he grabbed it out of his pocket.
"Sam Seaborn."
"Sam, she's awake! Mallory is awake!" Leo's voice held a brief burst of boundless joy.
"I'll be right there!" He pulled away from Sarah and dashed out the door, down to his car, back to the hospital, back to her room.
"Mallory!" he cried out as he burst through the door. Looking over, he saw her sitting up in bed, still looking tired and wan, but eyes wide open. She held out a hand in his direction, and he strode over to take it in his own, then bent to give her a gentle kiss and to stroke her face with his hand. "I'm so glad to see— I can't begin to say— I'm speechless!"
"Dad?" she stage-whispered with a weak smile, looking from Sam over to her father. "Write this down, it's a red-letter day."
"Good thing it doesn't happen too often," Leo responded. "He'd be out of a job"
"That would be sad," Jenny added. "Then he couldn't support you in the manner to which you'd like to become accustomed." She smiled over at Sam and her daughter.
"Mother!" Mallory rasped.
Sam couldn't take his eyes off her. He had nearly lost his best friend, and now . . . Suddenly all the pieces fell into place and he knew what he had to do. "I'd be honored if you'd let me," he said softly.
"Let you what?" she squeaked.
"Support you in the manner to which you'd like to become accustomed."
She looked up at him, trying to speak, but no sound came out. Her gaze flipped back and forth between Sam and her mother and her father.
Sam shook his head. "You don't have to say anything now. We'll talk about it after you're all better."
She just smiled and nodded. All was well in Sam's world.

Sarah had been stunned when Sam leapt up off the sofa and rushed out. She had wanted to go, expected to go back to the hospital when Mallory woke up, but he had run out before she could even say, "Wait for me!"
And when the door closed behind him, her world collapsed. Six months of pent-up anger and sadness came pouring out in a torrent. Six months she had been riding this whirlwind, snatched out of comfortable existence by the storm at the Newseum. By what perverse fate had she been the one on call that night? How had she managed to connect with these people, people she never expected to meet, people who lived in a world as foreign as the Martian landscape?
And then there was Leo. Who had first greeted her with "Who the hell is she?" Who had hardly spoken two words to her the whole time Josh was in the hospital. Who had reluctantly told her about the OEOB AA meeting, and then only when she confronted him with its existence. Who had timidly asked her out at the celebration for Jeff Breckinridge's confirmation. Who had waited six weeks to literally carry her off to bed.
She had known up front that his job had wrecked his marriage, that everything else would be a distant second place, that she could make few demands on his time and attention. She had also known almost immediately that he was the most fascinating man she had ever met. He had experienced the elation of a Presidential election victory and the humiliation of a three-day alcoholic blackout. He knew the safety of Treasury Department protection and the terror of night in a Cambodian jungle. He could fly a plane with reckless abandon and chastise her for not looking both ways before crossing a one-way street.
And she loved him almost more than life.
And she cried herself to sleep, sure that Mallory's illness had brought Leo and Jenny back together again.
When she woke up it was dark outside, and only a single light burned, in the kitchen. Someone was scratching at the lock on the door. Momentarily confused, she sat up on the sofa and called , "Who's there?"
"It's me," Leo called through the door. "This damn key isn't working." She had shown him the trick to her front door lock a dozen times, but he never remembered.
"Push the key all the way in, hard, then pull the knob toward you!"
The door slid open and he walked in, tossing his coat on the tree.
"Hey, Toots. I guess you heard."
"Yeah, Sam was here when you called him."
"Looks like she's gonna be just fine."
"That's so great."
After a beat, the two said in unison, "How are you?" Then they both laughed.
"Did you get some sleep?" he asked.
Sarah nodded. "I was just waking up when I heard you at the door. I need some coffee."
"I'll get it." He went into the kitchen and looked at the half-empty pot. "Want me to make some fresh?"
"Nah, just nuke it. I'll chew if I have to."
He brought a mug full back to the sofa and sat it down on the table in front, then sat down next to her. "Sarah, I—" he began.
"It's OK, Leo, I understand." Her eyes misted over and she blinked back the tears.
"You do?"
She nodded, looking down so he wouldn't see her cry.
"And just what do you understand, Ms. Cooper?"
"I know how near-tragedy can bring people closer. You want me to help you get your things together?"
He reached out and took the mug from her hands and placed it back on the table. Then he turned sideways on the sofa to face her. "You think I want to— that I could just walk away?"
"Thirty-two years is a long time."
He fell quiet, then stood up and walked over to look out the kitchen window. "Abbey was right. You really don't have a clue."
"What?" Sarah had no idea what he was talking about.
"Do you seriously think I want to go back to Jenny?"
"I don't know," she murmured. "I hope not."
"I thought you told her you'd put up a fight."
"I'm willing to fight with her, Leo, but I won't throw myself at you!" She sat up straight and flung herself into her chair, wheeling over to where he stood in the kitchen. "If you've decided I'm not what you want, I won't whine and cling and beg. But if you're still torn, she's in for a battle. I won't let go easily."
He reached down and touched the gold charm she wore around her neck. "I don't know why you think you even had to ask. I meant what I said when I gave you this."
The charm was a golden door that he had made from the gold from the wedding ring Jenny had given him. The accompanying card had said, One door closes and another opens.
He poured himself some coffee and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I didn't come here to get my stuff, Toots. I came here to get yours."
She looked at him with total confusion.
"Jenny and I both know it's over. She doesn't want me back. You and I moved on. Don't you get that?" He squatted down on his toes and looked her in the eye. "And I'm tired of pretending we don't care about each other. Come move in with me."
"You want me to come live with you?"
"Sarah, you sure can be blind when you don't want to see. I wanted you to move in when I got the place! Why do you think I dragged you out to Arlington to see the house I was thinking about buying? Why do you think I kept asking you what you thought about the apartment, why I didn't just hire a decorator and tell her to knock herself out?"
She shook her head. "I didn't really think about it."
He crossed the room to her little butcher-block table and sat on one of the chairs, then beckoned for her to face him. "You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?"
Sarah shook her head. "No. But one of these days, when you least expect it, it's gonna pop out and there's nothing you can do to stop it." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "And unless we're really careful, I'm afraid I might be wrong."
"Wrong about what, Toots?"
"Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all."

EPILOGUE
Several days later, Sarah was finishing up packing some of her books when the doorbell rang.
"Who's there?"
"It's me."
She rolled over and opened the door to let Sam in.
"Hey," he said, bending to kiss her on the cheek. Looking around, he asked, "I thought Leo said he was sending people over to do this."
"There are some things I don't trust to anybody, Sam. Some of these books are a hundred years old."
He picked up a volume of Vilna Talmud and opened it. Upside down.
She managed not to giggle.
He sat down on the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I need to talk to you about something."
"Uh-oh," she responded. "Sounds serious."
"Kind of." He hesitated. "The other morning when I brought you home from the hospital, right before Leo called?"
"Uh huh."
"I . . . uh . . . well . . . I almost made a pass at you."
Sarah bit her lip for a minute. "Sam, you know the other morning when you brought me home from the hospital, right before Leo called?"
"Uh huh." A broad grin spread across his face.
"I . . . uh . . . well . . . I almost made a pass at you." She waited for him to say something.
"Would you be hurt if I said I'm really glad you didn't? And I didn't? And we didn't?"
"No, 'cause I'm really glad too. Nothing screws up a friendship faster than unpremeditated sex."
He laughed. "Yup. It's a lot better with malice aforethought." After a moment, he went on. "Did you tell Leo?"
"Good Lord no. Did you tell Mallory?"
"Are you nuts?"
"Ok."
"Ok."
Silence.
"Here," Sarah finally said. "Make yourself useful as well as ornamental," and handed him an empty box.