Alix33, D'Arcy and Nicole10 thanks for the feedback...much love to you guys!

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Ellie

He answers almost immediately, and I find myself hoping he's not waiting up for someone else. I haven't seen as much of him this week, and I'd almost started wondering if he'd starting seeing someone and was avoiding me so it wouldn't be awkward.

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"It's Ellie."

"Ellie?"

"Yeah. Can I bother you for a sec?"

"More than that, if you want."

The buzzer rings, and I go in, already sort of sorry to be crashing his night. He's waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

"Hey," I begin, but my face must be a mess, because he cuts me off, brow creased.

"What's going on?"

"I have a favor to ask you. That you're going to equally like and dislike."

"Okay," He says hesitantly, taking my hand and leading me to his door. We go in, and he gestures to the couch. "Sit. Water?"

"Please."

He comes back with ice water and crackers.

"Thanks," I offer weakly. He smiles, but doesn't answer, sitting down next to me and waiting for me to speak. I decide to dive right in.

"You know Donna's been home for two days?"

He snorts. "Everyone knows. Josh is self destructing by the minute trying to run his own life."

"Well, I just went to see her. And she's not sick."

He looks at me carefully. "Okay..."

"She's...she'll be in tomorrow. And she asked me to ask you a favor on her behalf."

"What is it?" He looks extremely confused, and I grope for a way to break it without him going into nuclear meltdown mode. Donna is like a little sister to him.

"Well...what exactly could you do about...Um. What do you know about Matthew Goodman?"

"Nothing."

"Well, he works for Senator Studebaker. I don't know what he does there, but if something had happened between them, hypothetically, and -"

"This is about her boyfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend," I correct helpfully.

Now the anger is mounting. "Why does she need my help? What did he say?"

I lay a hand on his arm, taking a deep breath. "Sam, she's pregnant."

He stares at me blankly for a moment. "You're kidding me."

"I wish I was."

"You saw her?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Is she..?"

"She's okay." I consider for a moment. "She broke a mug, and cried."

"That doesn't sound that great."

"I didn't say 'great', I said 'okay'."

"So what are they going to do?"

I hesitate. He stiffens, "What?"

"Well...the 'they' part might be a bit of an overstatement..."

"He broke up with her?" He starts to jump up and I pull him back down, resting a hand on his shoulder. I try to break in, but he doesn't stop. "She tells him, and he breaks up with her? That son of a -"

"He didn't exactly..." I begin, and Sam shuts up, looking at me intently. This one's really going to hit him hard. I wince a little over the first few words. "I think he'd still date her. But only if she..."

It takes a few minutes, but luckily, Sam's a bright kid. He pales another shade, but doesn't fly off the couch again.

"If she gets an abortion." He finishes flatly. "He wants to run for something. He's worried for his image."

He grabs a legal pad off the coffee table. "Tell me, so I can start putting something together for tomorrow."

"I don't know much. It was an accident. He came over, told her she couldn't keep it, got angry, left."

"When was this?"

"Three days ago including today."

"You know, I can't really do anything here unless there's something -"

"I think he threatened her." I hadn't really realized that I do think so until just now. Something about the way she described it was off.

He hesitates and puts down the pencil. "Why isn't she asking Josh to do this?"

"She doesn't want him to know."

"It's going to be hard for me to keep this a secret from him."

"I know. But I don't think it's our place to divulge."

"No..." He rubs his temples, "Should I go and see her?"

"She's embarrassed, Sam. She said she didn't want to know anything about it."

Sam leans back against the couch and looks at me. "How are you?"

"Me? I'm not the priority here."

"I'm asking anyway."

I stare at my hands for a moment and try to collect myself. The song from the car starts playing in my head against my will, and my eyes prickle around the edges.

"I'm..." Apparently too choked up to speak. Inwardly, I flog myself to keep from crying. I look up and smile a little, "I'm gonna go."

I stand up, but Sam reaches out and catches my wrist. "Don't run off just because you're upset. I'm upset, too."

I can see that he is. There are worry lines between his eyebrows. I sit back down.

"It's just...it's Donna, you know?" I say, barely audible. He knows. Everyone feels the same way about her.

"I know." We're quiet for a while, but his thumb keeps moving on my arm, calm and constant. I lean into it a little, and he moves his hand to my hair, twining his hand through it. It's always been one of his favorite parts of me.

"Really, tell me how you are."

"You know how I feel about Donna, Sam. Everyone - "

"Not about this. In general."

I quickly vacillate between whether or not to lie. It's my impulse, but one curse of knowing Sam is his ability to see through me like I'm a sheet of glass.

"I'm apprehensive," I finally say carefully.

"About what?" We're both still staring straight ahead, but his thumb keeps moving on my arm.

"I don't know. Life. People. Who I want to be. Kid stuff, right?" I look up, teasing, but his face stays solemn as he answers.

"Not at all."

I'm surprised at how suddenly pensive he is. Is something going on at the office I don't know about?

"What's up with you?" I ask softly.

He shifts in that certain way he has, and I know what the words will be before he says them. "I can't really talk about it, Ellie."

"You know, my Dad's just going to tell me later," I joke, nudging him gently.

"It's not state secrets." He smiles a little, but his heart's not in it. Suddenly he does turn to me. "Does he tell you a lot? Do you know him well? Really well?"

Now I'm really taken aback. We've never discussed my relationship with Dad after my drunken rambling on Inauguration night. I consider it.

"Not really well," I say slowly, "Not anymore. But I don't think he keeps secrets, either, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah. He's not that type," Sam agrees, and his face is an absolute storm cloud now. Whatever he'd managed to forget while we talked about Donna is back in full force.

"Sam." I turn myself to face him, putting my hand on his knee. "You look like someone just killed your puppy."

He takes a deep breath in through his nose, and I can see him fighting with himself.

"If it's not state secrets, then I don't need code word clearance," I tease softly, "You're allowed to -"

"My father's been having an affair."

My mouth drops open, and I'm instantly contrite for making jokes. "Oh, God..."

"Yeah. Apparently he is the type who keeps secrets."

"For -"

"Since I was in elementary school."

I look at him in horrified wonder and try to imagine how he's even been able to function this week. There goes my theory of him being preoccupied because he's seeing someone.

"You didn't say anything," Is all I can think to say.

"I just..." He runs a hand over his face, then lets it fall back to his lap. I grab it, and it's cold.

"No, I didn't mean...I understand."

We don't speak again, but sort of cling to each other; my hand clasped on his wrist, his hand on my shoulder. It's a long time before we relax.

"I'm sorry," I whisper finally, and he moves his thumb on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah."

I let a minute go by, considering, before I offer up the only real consolation I have.

"My Dad did keep one secret from me."

Sam's head turns, but I keep looking straight.

"What's that?"

I smile a little. "Running for President."

I can see his eyebrows go up. "What do you mean?"

"He told Zoey and Liz, because he knew they'd be thrilled. He and Mom told them together. And he told me later, looking like he was headed to the guillotine, because he knew I wouldn't be into it like they were." I shrug. "It was true, and I couldn't blame him even then, but it still hurt." I look at him quickly. "Not that that compares to..."

"No," He stops me, "Thanks."

I struggle to think of something else to say, anything, but I don't know what to tell him. I can't say it doesn't matter, or that it will get easier. It's a huge lie. It undermines parts of his entire life, it taints every memory...words can't fix it. Not this soon, maybe not ever.

"It's not even just that it happened," He goes on finally. "It's how I handled it. How I acted today..."

"No one would hold you responsible, Sam. No matter how you acted."

"I hold myself responsible. I'm thirty-four years old, I know how the world works. I should be able to..." He shakes his head, not going on.

"No one's a grown up when it comes to their parents," I tell him softly. "We all go back to being little kids."

He blinks and looks a little like he might tear up then, and I panic for him, wanting to avoid any further possible shame today. I throw my arms around him and wait until I'm sure his breath is completely steady before pulling away, and then we lapse back into silence.

He's holding my hand and practically breaking it, but I keep my mouth shut.

After a while, he lets go and picks up the remote, and we watch CNN. Somewhere in the middle of 360 with Anderson Cooper, Sam starts stroking my hair again, and I lean into it reflexively. I look at the clock and it's midnight.

"Do you want me to go?" I ask, and my voice sounds foreign in the silent room.

"No," He says without hesitation. My skin prickles a bit, waiting for what's next. The tension in the room is palpable, leading up to something.

"Do you ever think about the campaign?" He asks, and I find that I was already half-expecting him to bring this up tonight.

"Yeah," I answer truthfully.

"Do you think it was worth it? That we ended up...together?"

What does that mean? My eyes come up to his, and they're still dark, smoldering with opposing emotions. Sadness for Donna and anger for the lies of his father, stress from work, and affection with a slight tinge of desire for me.

"Yes," I say without hesitation.

"Do you ever wonder if it would be worth it now?"

Is it just me, or has he moved closer? Because I'm suddenly aware of his cologne now, and I wasn't before. I try not to let the fact that I can see the toned skin of his stomach through the gaps in his button up shirt factor into my answer.

"I don't know," I say blankly, "do you?"

"Sometimes I do." He threads his fingers through my hair again, "Right now I do."

"Right now?" Gulp.

"You could stay."

"Have you been drinking?" I blurt out.

Like a bull in a china shop, Bartlet. Good job.

He just laughs softly. "I had a beer about two hours ago. You don't have to worry about taking advantage of me, if that's what you're thinking."

"It's not."

"No?" He pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head, and I try very, very hard to convince myself I don't want to be there. He tilts his head towards mine slowly, and I can feel his breath on my face, warm and comforting as he hovers closer to mouth, his movements slow and questioning.

My inner dialogue starts screaming at me. Get out now, Ellie, or you're going to wake up with him.

"Maybe this shouldn't be our motivator for this," I whisper, pulling back almost imperceptibly.

His eyes are still half closed. "What?"

"What happened to Donna. Your Dad. I admit I'm upset, but if we start something..."

He doesn't let go, "Are you sure?"

No. No, I'm not. Not at all.

"Yes," I reply.

He lets go and I sit up.

"Okay," He says quietly, and picks up a napkin, dipping it in my untouched water glass as he speaks, cleaning the smeared mascara from my face. "Just remember I offered."

I stand up and so does he. We walk to the door and kiss quickly, like friends.

"See you tomorrow," I say lightly, trying to pretend my body temperature isn't ten degrees above normal.

"Tomorrow," He agrees. I start down the stairs and he leans over the railing watching me until I go out the front door.

I get in my car, lock the doors, and take a deep breath. Then I remember he's probably watching me from the window and fumble my keys into the ignition. The whole drive home I practically run the stop signs, interrupted by the thought of Sam's eyes smoldering at me.

I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach, an oddly familiar feeling, not unlike the one I had three years ago that fateful summer in Nashua.

It means life is about to get complicated.

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