Title : Finite disappointment
Author : Geraldine
Category : Drama/angst
Rating : G
Summary : But time, Sam was learning, was indeed a healer. Post Red Heaven's on Fire.
Spoilers : First four seasons.
Disclaimer : They belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, NBC, Warner Brothers, and I hope I haven't forgotten anyone. So obviously, they don't belong to me. I'm not making money from this story, I just have too much free time on my hands. So I'm begging : don't sue.
Acknowledgements : Many, many thanks to my beta reader, Emily.
Finite disappointment
Geraldine
"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose
infinite hope."
Martin Luther King, Jr.
When Sam left the White House in 2003, he was bitter. And why not? His personal life was tainted by his father's lies. His professional life was tainted by the President's lies, and by Sam's defeat in Orange County.
Somewhere along the line, Sam had lost sight of what it was like to feel useful, to make a difference. He had even lost his thirst to help people, and while he gave his best to the special election, he thought perhaps, the voters had noticed that.
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For several months, Sam didn't do anything. He sailed, bonded with his mother, exercised a lot, and got used to the sun again.
He was burned out, and the simple thought of working, of even picking up a pen and jotting down ideas on a sheet of paper, made him physically sick.
He thought that, perhaps, he had definitely lost "it" - lost whatever quality had always enabled him to look forward, to move on. Once upon a time, such a thought would have been horrifying. These days, he was past caring. If "it" ever came back, he'd probably be glad. If "it" didn't come back, he'd survive.
Then one day, he awoke at 6 with a sentence in his head, that he just had to write down because it was beautiful, and powerful.
And two days after that, it was a whole paragraph about education and its necessity for the world at large. Obvious, perhaps, but there were times when obvious points needed to be made.
Another two days, and he was sitting on the beach, the sun warming his back, furiously scribbling on a notepad, whishing his hand could keep up with his thoughts.
He should have known, really.
When he had come back to Orange County and gotten his ass kicked, he had also been reminded of childhood memories. A day at the beach with his parents, or an evening in the backyard, with his father grilling steaks and his mother preparing salads. Perfect days for a not-so-perfect family.
He had thought that after his father's revelation, he'd never trust his memories again - each time his father had told his mother he loved her, he had lied, at least on some level.
But time, Sam was learning, was indeed a healer.
And now, he could remember his early days in the White House. Could smile again at the idea that he and Josh had gotten lost on their way to Leo's office. Could remember fondly the poker games and the good natured teasing and the basket ball games under the watchful eyes of the Secret Services.
And yes, the real thing had been flawed.
And yes, things had changed.
And yes, Sam had been lied to too many times.
And yet, Sam found himself missing these days - missing Bartlet's inspiring speeches, missing the camaraderie, and the arguments, and the humor.
It was impossible to recapture the past. It was impossible to go back in time and be a part of that again.
However, maybe it was possible to create something new.
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Six months later, Sam was calling Toby and Josh. "Guys, I'd like to run for Governor in the next elections," he said.
Two days later, they were knocking at his door.
"About damn time," were Toby's first words. Then, "Let's get to work."
Josh didn't say anything, just looked at Sam with a goofy grin and began talking about strategy and polling.
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When President Seaborn took office in the White House, in 2014, he was hopeful. And why not?
He had four to eight years to make the world a better place, and he planned to make the most of it.
END