Welcome to my Ellie/Sam saga Part II! Like I mentioned, this is the fic I originally starting writing, and it picks up in the episode 'Ellie'. I've changed a few things here and there, but that's about where I meant this to be in the series. It will also have some Josh/Donna going on eventually, and more interaction with CJ, Toby, etc.
I don't own the characters or the series!
Thanks for reading, enjoy Memento Vivere, or translated: A reminder of life.
**********
Sam
Somehow, the days that matter the most are always entirely unexpected.
It's a typical Tuesday, and I'm following Josh and Donna, watching an epic battle play out as he repeatedly swats away a file folder that Donna is repeatedly trying to put in his hand.
"Donna, no. I'll lose it."
"No, you won't."
"Yes, I will. We both know I will."
"Josh, if you can't keep track of one folder for twenty minutes, I'm going to have to speak to Leo about demoting you."
"Fine, maybe that way I'd get some occasional sleep, or -"
"To the third grade."
He glares at her. "Hold it for me."
Defeated, Donna puts it to the bottom of the pile she's holding. "Fine, but if this keeps up, I'm going to need my own damn assistant. A Deputy Deputy Deputy Chief of -"
She runs into the back of Josh, who has stopped and turned to talk to me, and he shoots her an annoyed look. Donna opens her mouth to say something I can only imagine will be cutting, but I interject before they really get going.
"Josh, I need those stats by the end of the day..."
"Yeah, yeah," He waves me off, turning back to Donna and launching into a long and gratuitous speech about her job description and what it entails.
I turn back to the direction of my office, glancing into the foyer of the Oval and nearly tripping to a halt. Ellie Bartlet is sitting in a chair looking out the window, and the light is streaming in and illuminating her like a Vermeer portrait.
It's only been two years, but I can't believe she's the same girl.
Her red hair is still long, but it's kinky and wild, obviously not kept with the careful styling she used to do. She's wearing a drab, knee length wool coat and her face is makeup free.
And she's still so beautiful, it makes my breath catch.
I take a silent step into the room. "Ellie?"
She jumps, and looks up at me with wide eyes.
"Sam," She replies automatically, then looks at me like my name's all she can remember. I wait for her to say something else, but she just stares.
"What are you doing here?" I ask finally.
"I'm here to see my father," She answers, and that thought seems sobering enough to break the little spell she's under. She looks down at her gloved fingers and once again doesn't elaborate. I'm about to make cliché joke about the cat having her tongue, but the door opens and Ellie gets the all clear to head in.
"Do you want me to go with you?" I blurt out, instantly regretting it. If she says yes, I don't know what the hell I'm going to do, but for her expression she might as well be heading to the gallows, and I want to offer something.
She stops short and stares at me again, although the corners of her mouth up quirk up a tiny bit. "I think I can handle it, Sam, thanks."
All this time, and it's still perfectly clear she thinks I'm an idiot.
I nod and she disappears into her father's office. The rest of the day feels surreal, like I had a conversation with a ghost. Just as with the last time I met her, it's a similar feeling to being blind sided with a two by four. I find myself standing outside CJ's office with a dazed look on my face, where she almost runs into me on her way out and snaps something about prosecution for loitering.
When Leo sends a message that Ellie will be by to pick up some portfolios from me, I almost sigh from relief because now she can't slip away unnoticed. I would have had to loiter somewhere near the President to catch her, and somehow I think he'd be even less tolerant than CJ.
When she finally strides into my office two hours later, it's obviously she's been working herself up to it. She's walking too fast, with her face furrowed in forced concentration and she pretends to be absorbed in a memo she's holding. She stares at the paper about three beats too long, then looks up at me.
"My Dad wants me to grab the Reider portfolio."
I don't bother to ask what she's doing running errands, but raise my eyebrow. "Okay..."
Silence.
I gesture to the chair. "You want to sit for a second?"
She shifts uncomfortably. "I really have to -"
"A second?" I persist, and she slowly sinks into the chair. It's silent again, and I wait for her to speak. She doesn't , and when I see her open her mouth to insist on the time again, I hold up a hand to cut her off and go to the file cabinet.
"Your Dad says you're heading for Med school."
"Yeah, hopefully."
"Staying at Hopkins?"
"Yes."
"Thinking about oncology?"
"Yes."
"You doing okay?"
"Uh-huh."
There was a fraction of a second of hesitation. Anyone else would have missed it. I quirk an eyebrow at her to let her know I didn't, and she stares back stonily, keeping her face blank. I push the folder across the desk and she practically lunges at it, suddenly on her feet at the same time. "Okay, well, thanks..."
Suddenly I'm on my feet, too, and she takes a step back.
"Ellie, for God's sake, don't treat me like a stranger."
"You are a stranger!"
Her reply throws me, because I expected her to deny it. Taking a moment to regroup, I edge around the desk to where she's standing. She takes another step back and I shoot her an annoyed look. I'm far from invading her space, and she's looking at me like I'm....
Well, a stranger.
I feel my eyes narrowing. "Why are you here, Ellie?"
She stays silent, but when she realizes I'm not going to say anything else, she glances up furtively for a moment and rolls her eyes. "I lost a bet."
I don't answer, trying to send a no-nonsense message. I don't want banter, I want the truth.
"I'm...doing an internship," She finally says after almost another full minute of silence.
"This summer?"
"Now."
"Why? The semester's not even over."
She falters again. "I'm helping my father - "
"Of all people, are you really going to pull that with me? You hate politics."
Silence.
"This isn't you," I insist, "We both know what I'm talking about."
"You have no idea what you're talking about, Sam." She snaps back, and her voice is as cold and bitter as day old coffee.
It hits me kind of hard, but the inborn lawyer takes over, and I cross my arms over my chest. "So tell me."
"Piss off," She mutters, and despite everything, the corner of my mouth gives a tiny jerk. It just sounds so much like her.
"No can do, sweetheart."
She throws up her hands, turns, and grabs the folder off the desk before turning back. "Fine, Sam. You want to know? My boyfriend wanted to meet my parents. I...I brought him with me."
She looks up and stares me in the eye, trying to look ten times more confident than she feels.
It takes me about ten 'Mississippi's' to regain facial control enough to close my mouth. My shock at the thought of her with someone else almost trumps my curiosity, but I'm still wondering why she's so damn nervous about everything. I study her. She holds her ground, but I can see the folder quivering slightly in her hands.
"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"
As I predicted, her mouth stays stubbornly shut, and I straighten back up with a sigh and open the door for her. She steps around me and strides down the hallway, shoulders back, chin up, giving nothing away.
************