Disclaimer: I own nothing belonging to The West Wing; it all belongs to NBC, Aaron Sorkin, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: I hadn't intended to have a "Manchester, Part I" and Manchester, Part II" for the first campaign, but it has turned out that way, and there does seem to be a nice sort of symmetry about it. After all, if Manchester took two installments for the second campaign, it stands to reason that it should take at least two for the first campaign, right? (However, it looks like this stay in Manchester is going to be considerably longer than two chapters….) Also, "Hampton" is apparently an English and Scottish name, hence my little invention of Mandy's ancestry.
Chapter Five: Bartlet for America – Manchester, Part Two
Much later that night, after a long staff strategy session and an even longer orientation with Toby concerning all the speeches that were needed for the Governor in the next few weeks, Sam was just about to collapse on the bed of his hotel room when he heard a knock at the door. Groaning silently, he went to answer it, hoping that Toby or Leo didn't want him for yet another discussion – at least not for another six hours.
He swung the door open to find Josh waiting behind it, grinning widely and holding two beers in his hand.
"Thank God," Sam said tiredly. "I was afraid Toby was stopping by to pick my writing to pieces for the seventh time tonight. Come in."
Josh chuckled as he walked past Sam, and turned around as he moved toward the two chairs in the room. "You were fantastic with those introductions today," he said, gesturing with the bottles. "I have never seen Toby get bested on the first try. You're going to be fine."
"That's what C. J. said," Sam sighed, taking one bottle from Josh and flopping into a chair. He leaned his head back and took a sip, feeling a bit of the tension leave his body.
"When did she say that?" Josh asked curiously.
"Well, she wrote it, actually, right after I complimented Toby and then insulted him," Sam said. "One minute I thought my life was over, and the next the tall, scary press secretary is winking at me like I've just discovered the secret handshake."
Josh laughed out loud then. "You did. Going toe-to-toe with Toby on the first encounter was the best thing you could have done; he knows you aren't afraid of him and he'll respect you for it, no matter how grouchy he gets. I don't know him that well, but I know him well enough to know that."
"Too much idealism," Sam grumbled. "Because being cynical, sanctimonious, and cantankerous gets you so much further with the American public."
Josh shook his head in amusement. "You are the only person I know besides Toby who can speak with a vocabulary like that and make it sound normal."
"Oh, thanks!" Sam exclaimed indignantly, but he raised his head and smiled as he spoke, and Josh knew he wasn't angry.
Josh rolled his beer bottle between his hands, trying to think of a way to bring up the subject of Lisa that wasn't going to be too hurtful to Sam – but he knew that was probably impossible. Sam and Lisa had been together six years; they had lived together, moved together and been engaged. One didn't get over that kind of relationship easily, if ever. He could only be an ear if Sam needed one, and knowing his best friend, Sam desperately needed to talk about this. In the end, he took a swig of his beer and simply waded in.
"Sam, what happened with Lisa?"
To Josh's surprise, Sam gave a small snort of amusement. "Well, that was subtle."
"Yeah, well…subtlety's never been my strong point. Nuance, yes. Subtlety, no."
"Truer words were never spoken. And speaking of vocabulary, it's impressive that you understand the distinction between nuance and subtlety. It's a difficult thing to explain…"
"Sam," Josh said, preempting the scholarly ramble with a knowing look.
"Do we have to talk about this? It's one o'clock in the morning, Josh." Sam was sure that Josh would provide a sympathetic ear, but part of him wanted to push away all memory of the last forty-eight hours. He was so tired, and thinking more about Lisa was the last thing he wanted to do. However, eleven years had taught him that his best friend was nothing if not persistent.
"You'll feel better if you do," Josh said quietly. "Besides, we always did our best talking and thinking at one o'clock in the morning, over pizza and salad."
"Salad for me, pizza for you," Sam remembered, his lips twitching.
"Yeah," Josh said, smiling a bit in return.
Sam sighed, stood up, and began to pace, taking another drink as he tried to figure out where to begin. "When I left the Hill, it felt like the right thing to do. I wanted to go to New York, be a lawyer, and be with Lisa. She had landed this great job at Vanity Fair, and I had a good offer from Gage Whitney. I knew I would miss politics, but I thought law was enough. It was enough, for a while. She did well, we were happy. I enjoyed my job at first, meeting lots of new people, new clients, helping people wade through the legal mess to do some good things."
"You did write, you know," Josh reminded him, teasing. "I remember."
Sam looked a little sheepish and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Anyway, the further I went up the ladder, the uglier it got. Corporate loopholes and tax breaks, liability clauses – things that let huge corporations get away with murder and avoid responsibility for the effects of their business practices. I didn't like what I was doing, and I don't think I realized that until you showed up. I missed that feeling we used to have on the Hill, when we helped accomplish something that would help a lot of people."
"You did some very good things for individual people," Josh noted.
"I did," Sam nodded. "Lisa said that, too. It's true – but by the end I didn't feel as though the good outweighed the bad anymore."
"You talked less and less about work the longer you were in New York," Josh observed softly.
"Work didn't make me happy. Lisa did," Sam said carefully, trying not to let his voice crack. "I didn't…I didn't realize how much my job was affecting me."
"But Lisa was proud of you for what you were doing?" Josh guessed.
"Always," Sam nodded. "She thought I was doing good work, being successful…and I was, I suppose. Our life made me happy, and my job was a part of our life, so that seemed…right. But then you showed up, and everything I wasn't doing with my life suddenly became crystal clear."
"Sam…" Josh sighed, opening his mouth, but Sam silenced him by lifting one finger and giving a small shake of his head.
"Don't. Don't do that. I'm not blaming you. I'm saying that you showed up talking about some crazy candidate in New Hampshire, and you made me remember everything I used to love about what we did, everything I was missing by not being part of political campaigns and not fighting for the things that really mean something. I went into a meeting with Kensington Oil and tried to persuade them to do the right thing because you reminded me of what I used to believe in. I couldn't persuade them, but I tried every argument I had, and I felt better doing it than I've felt at any time in the last four years." He paused. "Except when Lisa said she would marry me," he added, his voice low. He didn't quite manage to keep the crack out of it this time.
Josh winced as Sam took another swallow of beer, sitting back down again. "So the conversation you had with Lisa after I left…it went as badly as you thought it would?" he asked awkwardly.
Sam gave a short, sardonic laugh. "No, actually. Not badly at all aside from the fact that she ended our relationship. She knew I was going to say yes to this campaign. She was perfectly understanding about it – probably more understanding that I deserved, really – and she knew that I needed this and wanted it, and that I wasn't happy. She was also perfectly open about the fact that my joining a presidential campaign would make her miserable – if not in the short run, then in the long run, because we'd be living two utterly different lives and quite possibly be in two different cities indefinitely. I can't blame her for that," he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "It isn't fair to ask her to do this, too, when it isn't what she wants."
"But – God, Sam, you don't just walk out on a six year relationship," Josh sputtered. "I know that campaigning isn't easy, but it isn't impossible to have a long-term relationship and be part of a campaign – look at Leo and his wife Jenny; they've been together for decades."
Sam shook his head. "Not everyone is the same, Josh. And Lisa didn't walk out – or if she did, maybe we both did. I made this choice, even though I had promised her I wouldn't, and she decided that she couldn't be a part of that choice."
It was Josh's turn to run his hands over his face and through his hair, guilt written all over his features. "So I've pulled you out of a miserable existence at Gage Whitney only to have you plunge into another miserable existence without your fiancée. That's…great." He rose, going to the window, and Sam saw the tense set of his shoulders that gave away the turmoil of his thoughts. He spoke to Josh's back, thoughtfully, measuring each word.
"The strange thing is, there's a part of me that's not sorry at all. I saw her over coffee, last night – we wanted to see each other before I left, and I needed to give her my keys and some paperwork for the apartment – and part of me felt as though I would never be happy again, but some other part of me felt as though I could breathe for the first time in ages. We were both crying, and it hurts almost more than I can bear – but I think we both knew it was the right thing to do. I couldn't make her happy, Josh. I could fit into the life she wants, with an uptown Manhattan apartment and a lawyer husband. I could even be content in it, with her – but the part of me that loves this, wants this, wants to change the country and the world and be making a difference, would be starving. Lisa knows that."
Sam came and stood next to Josh at the window, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Josh. You do not get to feel guilty about this. You came to New York two days ago and reminded me who I am, who I want to be. That's a gift, and it's one that I'm grateful for."
Josh looked at him steadily for a long minute, the guilt still hovering on his face, but under Sam's reassuring gaze the guilt faded, replaced slowly by acceptance, until eventually he nodded. "Okay. But I'm going to make it worth it, Sam."
"Deal," Sam concurred. "Now can we stop talking about me and talk about you?"
Josh studied his friend. Sam was doing his best to be cheerful, but he was clearly exhausted in just about every way possible. The fatigue that had been so evident this morning had returned, and underneath the forced joviality, Sam's eyes were pleading with him to lay this subject to rest. So, he took the bait Sam had offered and grinned. "Sure," he said flippantly. "What do you want to know about the honorable Josh Lyman, Esquire?"
His quip worked. Sam raised an eyebrow, grinning in return. "'Esquire' might be exaggerating things a bit."
"I have a law degree!" Josh protested.
"Which you've never used," Sam pointed out.
"I work in politics; I still have to know the law," Josh argued.
"Knowing the law and actually practicing it are two different things," Sam returned.
"I'll have you know that I practice the law every single day," Josh said indignantly.
"By obeying the street signs, you mean? Or buckling your seat belt? When was the last time you actually wrote a brief? At Yale?" Sam teased.
"No," Josh scoffed, but he looked down, and Sam stared at him incredulously.
"Not really at Yale. Seriously?"
"Okay, fine, I'm a politician," Josh caved in.
"You're a campaign director for a politician," Sam corrected him, "which makes you almost a politician, but not quite."
"That's a real ego-booster, Sam."
"Anytime," Sam said, smiling again. He rose to grab a second round of beers from his own little refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle opener from somewhere in his suitcase, which caused Josh to shake his head. Sam really was absurdly prepared for anything, most of the time.
"So do you have any life outside of presidential campaigns, or shouldn't I even bother asking?" Sam asked as he moved around the room.
"I have a life," Josh said defensively. "I have a girlfriend!"
"And who is this lovely creature who is brave or foolhardy enough to date you?"
"Mandy Hampton," Josh said. "She's our media director; she's flying in tomorrow."
Sam paused in the act of flipping the tops off of their beers. "Mandy Hampton is our media director?"
"Yeah," Josh replied.
"And you're dating Mandy Hampton?" Sam asked, clearly questioning Josh's sanity.
"Yeah," Josh retorted. "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," Sam said hastily. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"Seriously, Sam, she's beautiful, she's funny, she's brilliant…What's the problem?"
"She's also incredibly opinionated and has a temper that matches her Scottish heritage," Sam said succinctly.
"She's…fiery," Josh said wickedly, smirking.
Sam shook his head in amusement. "Better you than me."
"How do you know Mandy?" Josh asked curiously.
Sam looked sheepish. "I owe her favors."
Josh raised his eyebrows, his expression a mix of incredulous and impish. "I'm sorry?"
Sam's sheepishness increased, but he rolled his eyes in response to Josh's face. "Political favors, Josh. She did a lot for me when we were on the Hill. She's a good friend, but I haven't talked to her in quite a while."
Josh's look changed to one of surprise. "You knew Mandy when we were on the Hill? I didn't meet her until six months ago."
"She's been working for the DNC a long time, Josh, you know that. She worked on Thompson's re-election, and we became friends. She helped me a lot when I was still trying to catch up with the learning curve."
"As if Thompson even needs help to get re-elected," Josh said sarcastically.
"He did that year," Sam grimaced. "The campaign wasn't a cakewalk, and he had a lot of new staff that didn't know their stuff yet. You have to remember, Josh; I was half-crazy during that election."
"You were crazy during that election," Josh averred. "I just didn't realize you knew Mandy. How's she going to react when she finds out you're working for us?"
"Oh, I'm sure there will be lots of teasing and humiliation and groveling involved," Sam said. "Mandy excels at that, even when she likes someone."
"And she likes you?" Josh asked, only half in jest.
"She does," Sam nodded. "She's like my big sister; she likes me, but she also likes to torture me."
"And you owe her favors."
"And I owe her favors," Sam confirmed.
"Well, this campaign is going to be a nice joyride," Josh smirked.
Sam reached over, grabbed a pillow from the bed, and threw it at Josh. "Can I get some sleep now?"
"Sure thing; I'll see you tomorrow," Josh grinned, getting up from his seat. Sam walked with him to the door, opening it to let Josh into the hall. Josh turned to face him.
"Sam, I will make it worth it. I promise," he said solemnly.
"It's already worth it," Sam said warmly. "I have my best friend back."
Josh gave a nod and a quick smile, then leaned in, the mischief back in his eyes. "C. J. is scary, isn't she?"
"Terrifying," Sam agreed promptly. "See you in the morning."
"Okay," Josh said. 'Night, Sam."
Josh strolled down the hall toward his own room, and Sam shut the door, the ache in his heart lessened and a smile still on his lips. As he changed out of his work clothes and crawled into bed, he was sure, finally, that he was where he needed to be.