Category: Drama/Angst/Fluff...
Summary: One goodbye, one hello, and two kisses. A Sam/Toby response to Red Haven's on Fire and Here Today.
Pairing: Sam/Toby SLASH. Don't flame if you didn't read that bit.
Spoilers: Up to "Here Today" with specific mention of that episode and Red Haven's on Fire.
Disclaimer: The West Wing is not mine but remains the exclusive property of Aaron Sorkin, John Wells et al.
A/N: I haven't been watching West Wing consistently since Sam left, but I could hardly ignore the howls of anguish from the Toby-loving sectors of the fandom. (So I'm sorry if I've missed some glaringly obvious bit of S5-7 canon, I'm working from recaps here). And I'm in the middle of a Sam/Toby epic anyway, so this wasn't much out of my way... Feedback is always followed by a happy-dance.

The first time they had kissed, Sam had been trying to say goodbye.

Toby had stayed to help his former deputy move into the sunny new apartment. He had left for food and returned to find Sam on the floor in the middle of a pile of books. He looked down at the top of Sam's head, vaguely begrudging the fact that it was still covered in hair, and coughed. 'Sam?'

'I'm unpacking.'

'You're reading.'

'No I'm not. I needed to open the book to find out where to classify it.'

'It's a dictionary, Sam.'

Sam had handed it up to Toby, laughing. 'Maybe you should take this one back with you to give to Will.'

Toby opened it, although he had recognised it by now and knew exactly what it said inside.

Sam,
If your speech is comprised of more than two-thirds of words with 'adj.' beside them, for the love of God don't hand it to me and say it's done.
TZ

That had been his first gift to Sam. A not-so-subtle critique and a very subtle show of affection.

'Will's problem isn't adjectives,' Toby had pointed out. 'It's alliteration. Both 'A' words, I'll grant you, but not the same thing. Keep the dictionary, the next person you work for is going to thank me. Especially if that person is me.'

'Do you think that's likely?' Sam had asked cautiously.

'That's really up to you, isn't it? You could stay, you know,' Toby had offered. Carefully not saying the other words. I want you to stay.

'No,' Sam had answered simply.

'You're sure you want to do this?'

'No,' Sam had answered, but before Toby could begin to hope, he had continued, 'but I know that I need to do it.'

'You have more faith in your instincts that most people.'

'Most people don't trust their instincts, or most people wouldn't trust mine?' Sam had asked, smiling to show he wasn't offended. 'I'm not sure of a lot of things, Toby, but this is one of them.'

'You're sure of everything! Give me one question, Sam, one, which you don't believe has a right and wrong answer.'

'Superman or Batman in a fight.'

Toby had just collapsed into the chair and wondered why he was the only one taking this seriously. Josh had enthusiastically supported Sam's running, and only shrugged in resignation when his best friend had announced that he would stay in California even if he lost. The President had just let him go. It was only Toby who had even asked why.

That evening he had asked again. 'Why are you so sure?'

'This is the next thing, Toby.'

And why had it never occurred to him that Sam had done this once before? Just up and left a good job to chase his dreams. It had never occurred to Toby that he was just as easy abandoned as Gage Whitney Pace.

'What are you going to do here anyway?' he had asked. Sam didn't belong here on the beaches writing his memoirs.

'Find something to keep me busy until it's time to run again,' Sam had answered blithely. 'I'll be fine, Toby. I learnt from the best, remember?'

The words had filled his head dizzily. But I wasn't done with teaching you yet. And maybe it isn't just you I'm worried about. Don't go. In the end he had said nothing. Favoured Sam with a half-smile and took his scotch to the balcony.

As he had always done, Sam simply followed him. 'Thanks for staying.'

Toby had looked across at the face now barely inches from his own. In the half-light, against all reason, it was easier to see him. Sam wasn't any surer of this than he was. That would have to be enough.

He let the arm rest on his shoulders, and had watched it slip to his waist without comment. When Sam turned his face towards him, ready to say the words of goodbye, Toby had stopped the parted lips by meeting them with his own.

It had taken the words from Sam, but the act remained the same. He'd still stayed in California. The taste of that one kiss had only made the loss of the ones they wouldn't have harder.

They said goodbye, silently, the next morning.

The next time they had kissed, Toby had been trying to say hello.

He picks up the phone and dials the number it had never occurred to him to delete from speed-dial, still not sure of what he's going to say. It has taken him the twenty-four hours since the President had fired him to even decide to call. In the end the words that come are simple, 'I imagine you've seen the news.'

Sam's voice is quiet. 'You're the leak.'

He doesn't know what he had expected if not that quiet shock. Sam, despite all protestations that he isn't the rookie politician anymore, has never quite lost his belief in people. He believes in them until, and sometimes long after, they have proved him wrong. And even then his belief is lost person by person – none of the losses have yet convinced him that people as a whole just aren't worth his belief. He had taken a job in New York because he believed his father, left it on the strength of his belief in Josh Lyman, and stayed in DC because of his belief in Jed Bartlet. Look what belief had done for him. Toby sighs the answer, although Sam isn't asking a question. 'Yeah.'

'Are you staying in DC?'

'I think there's going to be a trial, or a hearing, or something. And I don't particularly want to be dragged back by the police, so yeah.'

'You need a lawyer.'

'I have a lawyer. She's called Alana.'

'You need a legal team, Toby. This isn't a game.'

'I noticed that when the FBI agents escorted me out of the building.'

'Toby...'

'You don't need to come here, Sam. I'm not having a breakdown.'

'So why call?'

'To find out how you define a hero.' He doesn't explain the comment, though he is sure that if Jed Bartlet has repeated his bitter parting words to anyone, it will not have been to his prodigal Californian son. That particular tone of disappointment is something which has always been reserved exclusively for Toby. Sam would never believe that the President he still worships would let Toby go without a word of thanks for the years of himself he has given to serving at that man's pleasure.

But Sam picks up on the meaning even if the nuances of the hurt are lost to him. 'You thought I would be one of the people who think you shouldn't have done it? Should be locked up for as long as the law allows?'

'I... The thought did cross my mind.'

Sam's voice is gentle in reminder. 'Well first, I don't want you put in prison, Toby. As for the rest... Maybe this is that question, Toby. The one without a right or wrong answer. Maybe you were right in what you thought but not what you did. Maybe you were wrong in both, or right in both. Maybe anyone who says they're sure is lying or an idiot.'

'Then why are you offering to defend me?'

The voice is just as certain as he remembers. 'They're going to throw rocks at you tomorrow, and I want to be standing beside you when they do. Even if the rock-thrower is the President of the United States. Especially then.'

He opens the door of his apartment, not surprised to find Sam standing there. Where else would he be? Toby gestures inside, opens his mouth to say something, explain himself, anything. For Sam he might even allow David's name to cross his lips. Instead he finds Sam doing the silencing this time. Kisses that don't taste of absolution because Sam sees nothing to forgive.

They say hello, silently, the next morning.

FIN

Anybody reading this...?