Disclaimer: I do not own The West Wing, Sam Seaborn, Ainsley Hayes, et al. I do, however, own Dan. I am making no money off this endeavor. The only thing I've earned is the pleasure that comes from writing and the possibility of some nice comments.

AN: Many thanks to ilovenascar, ldugan, and fc2001 for the beta reads. Any remaining errors are mine.

AN2: There is a reference to Sports Night in one of the five chapters of this story. Anyone who stumbles across it and sends me a Private Message with the correct reference will be entered into a drawing for a $5 online gift certificate for .

~*~

From chapter three: She swallowed hard. "You're not the person I'd bring to the deserted island." She looked at him.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't love you as much as you deserve."

"Is this because of him?"

Chapter Four

"Yes," she whispered, shame heating her face. It was hurtful and horrible, and she hated herself. But she'd hate herself more, and she'd probably end up hating Dan, too, if she went through with it.

Dan turned away. "I should have known," he said, banging his fists against the wall.

Ainsley jumped. "I'm sorry. I truly am. I didn't reali―"

"The hell you're sorry," he exclaimed. "You just came home to dump me so you can go back over there."

She shook her head back and forth several times. "No, no, no...I didn't. As far as Sam knows, you and I are still getting married. I don't even know if I'm welcome over there anymore. But I know I don't love you the way I'm supposed to love my husband."

"It would have been nice if you'd said this before I uprooted my whole goddamn life for you. Barely a week ago, Ainsley. A fucking week."

She flinched at his language. She probably deserved it, and the least she could do was take whatever he needed to dish out. "I didn't know," she said softly. She'd been such a fool.

"I should have known when I met him. I had a bad feeling. But, you know, stupid me, I thought I could trust you. Convinced myself he was gay—that there really was nothing but friendship between you."

"There wasn't, I swear." She covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry, Dan. You don't know how sorry I am."

"You know, you sure are sorry an awful lot. Isn't that what you said the day you found your dress? You were sorry then, too. I'm beginning to think you would have made one sorry wife."

Ainsley winced, not only at the words, but the venom in his voice. How had she never seen this side of him? She could never imagine Sam speaking this way to her or any one else, no matter how hurt or angry he might have been.

"If there was any way to go back..." she said. But go back to when? Back before Sam's kiss? Before Dan's proposal? She just couldn't pretend any longer. Couldn't pretend Sam didn't have feelings for her and couldn't pretend she didn't know about them. Or returned them...

"Thanks. It's so nice you at least tried to pretend," Dan said sarcastically.

Her gaze shot to Dan's. Had she said that aloud? "That's not what I meant."

"You don't fall in love with someone in one night. So you're either a liar or you're stupid. I don't know which is worse."

She swallowed. "It's the second one, if you care." She was trembling now, a ball of cold settling in the pit of her stomach.

He turned away, apparently not wanting to look at her any more if the disgust on his face was anything to go by.

It was time to end this. She got up. "I'm going to go to a hotel."

"Right," he said with a snort of derision.

She stiffened and looked at him, and a burst of anger, irrational as it was, flared through her. She strode past him to the bedroom, and grabbed her overnight bag from the closet, throwing her toiletries into it.

"It'll take me a while to clear out," he said from the doorway, his gaze boring into her.

She nodded. "I understand. Take as long as you need," she said as evenly as she could. She didn't want to prolong this or exacerbate it.

"Gee, thanks." He moved into the room and held out a hand. "The ring?"

She pulled it off and tossed it at him with more force than she intended. She missed his hand, and the ring bounced at his feet with a tinny plink.

He picked it up off the floor. "What—are you the injured party now? You're leaving me."

God, he was being such an ass. How had she never seen this before? She shoved a change of clothes into her bag. "I'm just angry...I don't know why."

"You're angry? Right―because you won't have two men fighting over you anymore. That must be really hard to handle."

Oh, if he only knew there was a line of men waiting for her to bat her lashes at them, if that's what she really wanted. "It was never about that," she said.

"So what happened tonight?" he sneered.

Aside from being woken up from the haze she'd been walking around in for the past six months or more? "I just...I realized some things I should have known a long time ago." She zipped her bag. "Let's leave it at that."

"He told you he wanted you and, suddenly, you didn't need your spare anymore?"

Her gaze shot to his.

"Oh, yeah, I noticed."

That was the way it seemed, although nothing could be farther from the truth, so she didn't say anything. She wouldn't be able to convince him, so why waste the effort.

He laughed again, a harsh ugly sound. "That's exactly what happened. Did you screw him, Ains?"

"Do you really think so little of me?" Although the depth of the kiss had thrown her for a loop.

"At this point, I don't know what to think. Maybe this was all an elaborate plan to make him fall in love with you and screw me over!" he yelled.

"Yeah, Dan, that was it," she said, raising her voice, too. "You figured it all out. I went over there asking for help picking out flowers. He told me he loved me and that was it. I tore my clothes off and dragged him to bed." She looked at him, bitterness and animosity towards him filling her. "And all this time you were just a stand-in."

He recoiled, hurt and anger glittering in his eyes. "Fuck you."

Just as suddenly as it appeared, her anger left her. "Yeah," she said softly, hot tears prickling her eyes. She'd be damned if she was going to cry in front of him, though. Picking up her bag and her purse, she walked out.

She could barely hold back the sobs by the time she reached her car, and she wept for a full ten minutes before she calmed down enough to drive. She ended up at the lovely little Best Western Hotel not far from her apartment.

The woman behind the desk took note of Ainsley's tear stained face and shuddering breaths and gave her a room without a word.

Once in the third floor room, she dropped her bag and purse to the floor and then stumbled to the bed.

She pulled a fluffy pillow into her arms and curled up around it, the pillowcase cool against her overheated face. The ugly scene with Dan played over in her head, and she cried for Dan. Despite his behavior, he was hurting, and she was the cause.

She cried more hot angry tears at herself. How could she have been so blind or so cruel? Poor Dan.

And poor Sam. Where was Sam? She needed Sam...

Backhanding tears off her face, Ainsley fished her cell phone from her purse. She pressed 1, then send.

Oh, no...Sam was number one on her speed dial. Had been for over five years. And where was Dan...? Number five. She started crying again. What had she done?

"Seaborn," his voice, uncharacteristically hoarse, growled into the phone.

She couldn't speak, so she just cried into the receiver.

Sam was instantly awake. "Ainsley, is that you? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

No words would come, only sobs.

"Ainsley, honey, talk to me. Are you okay?"

"S-sam."

"Are you safe?" he demanded, now frantic. "Yes or no."

"Y-y-yes."

He let out a breath. "Okay. I'll come over."

"No-o, you ca-a-an't."

"Why not?"

She sniffled and took a deep breath. "I-I'm at a, at a h-hotel."

"Where? I'll come get you."

"You s-shouldn't. It'd be bad if someone saw us."

"Ainsley, I could give a rat's ass if someone sees us. I'll call up the Washington Post myself. Now, where the hell are you?"

"The B-best W-western on New H-hampshire."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." The line went dead and her heart leapt. And then dropped just as quickly.

What was wrong with her? She'd just broken one man's heart and most certainly wounded his pride, and here she was racing into another man's arms.

She looked at her cell phone and then snapped it shut. Oh, the hell with it; she'd worry about it later. Sam was coming for her.

Stumbling into the bathroom, she moistened a washcloth with cold water and pressed it to her flushed and puffy face. She looked awful, but there was little she could do about it at the moment. The cool wet cloth felt heavenly against her tight skin. Braving a look at herself, she cringed at the tangled mess of her hair, but didn't bother with a hairbrush.

Grabbing her bag and purse, she went back down to the lobby. Just as she slid the key card across the counter to a very confused desk clerk, the automatic doors swished open and Sam rushed in.

"Ainsley," he called, spotting her and hurrying toward her.

The clerk smiled in sweet amusement.

Sam's hair stuck up in all directions. His pale blue dress shirt was terribly wrinkled and buttoned wrong, and the sleeves were rolled up haphazardly. With it, he wore khaki cargo shorts that were just as wrinkled and a pair of flip-flops. He'd never looked more beautiful to her.

She fell into his arms when he reached her. "Sam." The mingled scents of laundry starch and cologne surrounded her. She was home.

He hugged her tight for a long time, mumbling who knows what into her hair. All she heard was a low rumbling sound through his chest. He finally released her and took her bag.

With an arm around her waist, he escorted her out the door to his Porsche, which was parked under the hotel's small awning. Opening the passenger door, he tossed her bag into the small space behind the seats and then stepped back to help her in.

"What's this?" she asked, reaching for the items in her seat. She held up a box of tissues and a pint of rocky road ice cream. "Oh, Sam..."

The tears started falling again as she sank into the leather upholstery. What had she done to deserve this? To deserve him? How much heartbreak had he endured because of her?

The signs were there; he'd even made overtures and tried to open her eyes about Dan. But she'd continued on her merry way, ignoring both men's attempts at dealing with issues she refused to acknowledge.

Sam jogged around the car and slid into the driver's seat. He touched her hair gently, and in the ambient light from the exterior hotel lamps, she now saw that his eyes were also red-rimmed. Her heart constricted.

She'd obviously wounded him badly and still he'd helped her pick out flowers. She'd called him the middle of the night, and he'd come with her favorite ice cream. No anger, no questions asked. That she'd brought this beautiful, good man to tears hurt terribly.

Sam started the car and pulled into the night, producing a spoon from a small cubbyhole to the left of the steering wheel and handing it to her.

Fifteen minutes later, they were parked on the street in front of his apartment. She hugged the ice cream to her chest, the spoon clutched in her hand. She'd been crying too hard to eat. "I sh-shouldn't have c-called you," she said. "I don't d-deserve you."

Reaching across the car, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Don't worry about who deserves whom. I imagine Dan thinks we deserve each other for the way he's been treated." And Sam was truly sorry about that. He'd put Ainsley in a horrible position, and Dan had paid the price.

She sniffled, blinked back the tears, and took a deep breath. In a little voice, she asked, "Are you mad at me?"

"No. Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because of earlier—or rather, last night." Ainsley pulled a wad of tissues from the box and mopped her face.

"Again, why would I be mad at you? If anything, you should be mad at me."

"I'm really sorry..." she insisted.

"For what?"

"For everything. For not acknowledging your feelings. For not acknowledging my own feelings...for hurting you."

Sam sighed. "Ainsley, my feelings were not your responsibility. I fell in love with you after you already had a boyfriend. Now, what kind of stupid idiot does that?"

"A sweet one. But I still don't deserve you. I've never done anything good for you, and I
f-finally realize I love you, and I expect you to come running as soon as I call. I shouldn't have called you."

"Yes, you should have. You can always―wait..." A smile broke over his face. She loved him? "You love me?"

She nodded. "Of course, I do. How I convinced myself otherwise, I'll never know."

"That's the only thing in this world I need. And I'd follow you to the ends of the earth if I had to."

Ainsley melted again.

"Let's go inside now, huh?"

In his apartment, he put the ice cream back in the freezer and returned to the living room. He found her curled up on one end of the couch, dabbing her eyes with the tissues.

He really hated to see her cry, but he'd set this whole thing in motion with his ill-timed declaration of love. But he wasn't sorry he'd told her. And he wasn't sorry she was there. He was sorry about the timing―that Dan had suffered in more ways than one because of Sam. But there was no way to undo anything and probably no way to ever make up for it.

He sat on the floor beside her, his back against the front of the arm of the couch. "I was engaged once, a long time ago." A lifetime ago, and yet the hurt could and did return upon occasion to remind him that love, like children, needed attention and affection to bloom and grow. A lesson he never planned to forget.

"Lisa?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded. "We were both caught up in our careers. We both forgot what was important. And we both lost sight of each other. Me more than her, I'm ashamed to say. And then Josh came, and it was an easy out. Sometimes it just isn't meant to be. And it's not always just one person's doing."

"He knew. He knew and I didn't," she said softly. "What kind of idiot does that make me?"

"It doesn't make you an idiot. It just makes you...focused. You were focused on the relationship you were supposed to be focused on. How does that make you a bad person?"

"It doesn't, I guess, if you put it that way." She sighed. "But think of all that time wasted because I—"

He pivoted on his butt and placed a finger against her lips. "Shh...I refuse to see it as time wasted. I choose to believe that things happen when they happen for a reason." Removing his fingers, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I prefer to believe this all came about now because this is when it was ordained to happen."

Her face softened into a gentle smile, and she ran her fingers gently along the curve of his face. "Yes, you're right."

Leaning in, he pressed another tender kiss to her lips. She shivered and kissed him back. After only a moment he pulled away.

She looked faintly disappointed, weaving her fingers in his hair and holding his mouth to hers.

He rested his forehead against hers and said, "Making love tonight's probably not the best idea, Ainsley."

She sighed and released his hair. "Of course, you're right again. What kind of ho would that make me?"

He chuckled. "It's not that. It's just that after all these years, I don't want our first time to be when we're both tired and wrung out. How about we just go to bed and sleep? We do have the rest of our lives."

She nodded and pushed herself to a sitting position. "Okay."

Sam tugged her to her feet and, grabbing her bag, led her into the bedroom.

"Sam...this is just lovely," she said. Her gaze came to rest on the four-poster bed. "Oh..."

Its mahogany finish was dark and lustrous against the 'soft blueberry'-colored walls. Midnight blue sheers shot through with silver threads draped the canopy frame, creating an exotic and intimate setting.

"It's fit for a queen or a harem―I'm not sure which."

"Well, not a harem," said Sam. "I, ah...always pictured you here, creamy white skin and blonde hair against the dark sheets." He swallowed and lightly cleared his throat. Should he have said that?

"Really?" she whispered, her face softening, but her eyes igniting. She came and looped her arms around his neck. "At some point, we'll have to see what we can do about turning that picture into reality..."

Sam smiled and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. "That'd be nice. But right now, sleep. I don't know about you, but I'm suddenly exhausted. We've both been on a pretty wild emotional roller coaster. And as much as I've fantasized about you in my bed, I just don't think I'd be at my best right now." Disentangling her arms from his neck, he turned her in the direction of the bathroom, and patted her bottom. "Now scoot."

"You fantasized about me in your bed?"

"More than was wise or appropriate," he said seriously. He pointed toward the bathroom again. "Go."

Plucking her bag from the floor where she'd dropped it a few minutes ago, Ainsley disappeared into the bathroom.

"For the love of Mike, Sam, this is incredible" she called.

Sam smiled again―or maybe he was still smiling. She was here and she wasn't marrying Dan.

"The tub is incredible," she said.

He'd had her in mind while redecorating the bathroom, too. Thank goodness he had his own personal wealth, such as it was, to draw on; and a very lenient apartment manager and building owner. "We can explore the wonders of the bath tomorrow, too. Hurry up so we can crash."

He shucked off his shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, tugged on pajama bottoms and then prepared the bed. He heard the rustle of clothing and then running water and tooth brushing. Ainsley emerged a moment later, her face bright and her flaxen hair flowing down her back. He groaned. The modest camisole and sleep shorts really did nothing to hide her most feminine assets. Despite his exhaustion, his body stirred at the sight of her.

She looked at the bed, which was raised eighteen inches off the floor. "How am I supposed to get into that?"

With a flourish, Sam reached under the bed and drew forward a small wooden step stool in the same mahogany finish as the bed. Offering a slight bow and extending his arm in the direction of the bed, he said, "Milady..."

She climbed up with all the grace of a dancer and got herself situated. He followed and snuggled in behind her, pulling her close. Sheer bliss and pure heaven. He could sleep like this forever.

"Your sheets are soft," she whispered.

"Three-hundred-twelve thread count."

She chuckled. "Of course."

"Hey, if I was going to go with this harem theme, I had to go all out, you know."

"Thank you for everything." She sighed and settled into the curve of his body. "Goodnight, Sam."

"You are most welcome," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "Ainsley?"

"Hmm?" she replied, already sounding sleepy.

"There's something I've been dying to know since your first night in D.C."

"What's that?"

"What's your tattoo of?" Sam asked.

To be continued...