The petals from the rose bush outside Josh's office window had long since fallen to the ground. The air was growing cooler and what had been a slight breeze was beginning to turn into a cold wind that made the Secret Service men outside turn up the collars of their coats. Winter was coming.
Josh pulled his gaze away from the window at the sight of CJ entering his room.
"Sam's replacement is in the stock cupboard crying," she announced.
"Yeah, we really need to get more post-its."
"She's not crying about the state of the stationery, Josh. She's crying because Toby has just told her to look up the names of local elementary schools."
"And?"
"And suggested she enrol at one and learn how to write."
"Ouch!"
"Well, yeah." CJ plonked herself down at his desk. "I've told Toby, flowers and chocolates, say sorry and try to smile more."
"You told Toby to smile more?"
"Yes, and then I ran."
Again Josh nodded. His gaze returned to the window. "I was just thinking, it's getting colder, darker, you know."
She frowned and smiled at Josh. "I don't know?"
"Just, you know, winter's coming, the nights are drawing in."
"And Sam's still not Sam."
Josh let out a huff of laughter and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, something like that."
"Well it's a good thing for Sam that Josh is still Josh then."
Josh raised his eyebrows. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"That was the nicest thing I'll ever say to you. Now take me to lunch."
They went for lunch and when they returned Sam's replacement had resigned and Toby was trying to explain her resignation to Leo. They returned to their offices and decided lying low for the rest of the afternoon might not be a bad plan.
Toby hadn't seen Sam since the night he had slipped uncomfortably from his room. He knew Josh hadn't seen him for a few days either. Sam's dad had finally paid a visit and everyone seemed to reach the same conclusion that leaving them on their own would be a good idea. Toby realised as he walked along the corridor towards Sam's room that maybe leaving it so long wasn't a good idea. He was sure the gap between visits would make no difference to Sam but he felt almost as nervous as he had the first time he had visited.
He walked quietly to the door and peeked inside the room. Sam was alone, sitting at a desk. His back was to the door but Toby could see by the movement of his arm that he was writing. He coughed and entered the room. "Hey, Sam."
Sam turned around and greeted Toby with such a dazzling smile that he felt even more of a heel for not visiting sooner. "Hey, Tony!"
Toby held up a bag and walked over to the table. "I got you these."
Sam took the bag, peered inside and smiled. "From the kitchen...staff place?"
"Mess."
"The Mess!"
Toby knew the Danish swirls were Sam's favourite, he wondered if Sam remembered that they were. He supposed he must as he had remembered where he used to get them.
"What are you writing?"
Sam stood, passing his pad to Toby as he did so. Toby read the first few lines and smiled.
"This is the inauguration speech we wrote."
"Yeah. I kept thinking about it. It was going through my head so I thought I'd write it down." Sam shrugged.
"You've remembered it word for word!"
"Couldn't I do that before?"
"You could remember a lot of things but not so much anything useful."
Sam walked over to the chairs by his bed. "What could I remember before?"
"Traffic routes, Gilbert and Sullivan Operas, sitting senators."
"That could be useful. If you were stuck in traffic, with a senator who was a Gilbert and Sullivan fan, that could be very useful."
Toby smiled and relaxed, leaning back in the chair and folding his hands on his stomach. "It's weird though, being able to remember something you couldn't before like that."
"Yeah, the doctor said that could happen. He told me sometimes people can remember phone and credit card numbers things like that. He said there was this guy who..." Sam frowned and closed his eyes, "this guy was erm...he said he remembered..."
"It doesn't matter. Tell me later." Toby could see Sam was getting frustrated. He changed the subject quickly but Sam was fixated on remembering the story the doctor had told him.
"No, wait, I'll get it in a minute, he got hit by a car and he couldn't remember who he was, like me, I can't remember," Sam rubbed at his forehead as if he could coax the memory out, "then he could remember all the...it was codes...something to do with where he worked, all these numbers and he could-"
"It doesn't matter," Toby said trying to get Sam off the subject.
"It does matter! How can it not matter that I can't remember a story that I was told yesterday!"
Sam was standing now and Toby wished Josh was here. Toby knew when Sam was better he would find it very amusing to know how many times he had wished for that in the past few weeks. Sam was pacing now, rubbing at his head and pacing up and down the room. Toby closed the door and returned and blocked Sam's path. "Stop it! It doesn't matter! You can't remember a story; it's no big deal, Sam. What is a big deal is you getting better and I don't think getting so stressed all the time is going to help you do that so, just sit down, tell me you've forgotten the story, I'll tell you it's no big deal and we'll go from there." Toby was surprised to realise he was actually pointing at the chair but Sam obeyed his command and quietly went back to his seat. Toby retook his and waited.
"How can I get better? I don't know who I am. I don't know what better is?"
"I don't know, Sam. I don't know how long it will take or how hard it will be but I do know this, your job, your friends, your whole life is waiting for you. Everything's where you left it."
Sam looked up at Toby and stared at him as if seeking the truth of his words.
"You can't help me remember it though can you."
Toby shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe when you get out of here I can help. I don't know, jog things along."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Jog things along?"
"Maybe."
Sam stood again and walked over to the window. "Do we work in the same office?"
"No. Your office is next to mine."
"Is yours bigger?"
"Of course."
Sam flashed a smile at Toby and turned back to the window. "You have a sofa in yours."
"Yeah."
Sam folded his arms, his gaze remaining on the grounds below. "I can see it, picture it but then I'm not sure which bit goes where. It's like a jigsaw puzzle; the whole picture's there but it's in bits, I keep trying to slot them together but they don't fit."
Toby stayed silent, hearing Sam verbalising what was happening in his head too fascinating to interrupt.
"I'll tell you what else it's like. Remember that time I got that email virus and all my files were corrupted? It's just like that in my head. I know where all the files are, what they're called and what should be in them but when I go to open them up I can't read them. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah," Sam repeated with a sigh as he turned away from the window and came back to join Toby. "If I don't get any better, if this is as good as it gets, promise me something?"
"I might, when you've told me what it is."
"Promise me that you won't let me go back to work just because you feel sorry for me."
"Okay, I can promise you that."
Sam nodded and let out a breath he had been holding. "Good. Thanks."
They spent the next half hour looking at the new model Leo had bought for Sam. Toby found following the instructions frustrating but knew it was all part of Sam's therapy and so read them out with a patience he rarely showed. His visit was cut short by a nurse taking Sam away for a session with the neurologist. Toby was surprised to find that after dreading seeing Sam, he was disappointed when his visit was cut short.
After spending so long yearning to be let home, Sam found when he was finally told he was going home the thought filled him with fear. He sat next to his mom and listened to the doctor. The information about future appointments, diet and other routines was lost on Sam. He was trying to picture himself back in his apartment. Free to do what he wanted, when he wanted. It terrified him.
The morning of what Josh called his release date was spent packing his belongings. Leo was taking some items ahead for him.
"Claire, I have nothing but respect and affection for your son but I swear to God, if I get photographed carrying a three foot teddy bear outta here I will never let him forget it."
The fact that Leo said this whilst trying to get both his arms around the stuffed toy did little to add any real weight to his threat. He finally got a grip he was satisfied with and bent down to pick up a bag of books.
"Chief of stuffed!" Claire exclaimed.
"What?"
"Chief of stuffed, that would be the headline."
"You're a very funny woman, Claire. I like that about you!" Leo left the room grumbling away.
Claire smiled and started to help Sam pack his clothes.
"What's going on with you and Leo?"
"Nothing's going on. He's just been very supportive while you've been in hospital." Claire turned away and busied herself matching Sam's socks into pairs.
"Hmm."
"Don't 'hmm' me, Samuel."
"Well! You're the one acting like a-"
"Like a?" Claire challenged Sam to finish his sentence.
"Just 'like a'," Sam finished weakly.
They carried on in silence. Claire knew she should talk to Sam at some point about her and Leo. She was in no rush though. She wasn't entirely sure what she and Leo were yet.
Eventually everything was packed and ready to go. Sam was honoured by quite a line-up of staff from the centre when it came time to leave. He was still causing a stir in medical circles but the turnout for his farewell was more due to the relationships he had built with the staff during the weeks he had been in their care.
He felt very proud that he could remember most of their names when it came time to say goodbye. He watched his mom handing over some flowers and a cake to the nurses, his anxiety building at the thought he would soon be home.
The ride to his apartment was mostly silent. Claire was oblivious to Sam's emotions. She was too caught up in her feelings of joy at finally taking her son home and away from the doctors and wires and beeps and constant dread that he'd never make it home again.
They pulled up outside Sam's apartment. He got out of the car slowly and then stalled at the stoop. Claire waited patiently. She could see his hand shaking and his other hand clutching so tightly to the handle of his bag his knuckles were white. She placed her hand on his back and ever so slightly pushed him forwards.
Sam blew out a breath and then started to walk towards his home. Once inside he stood in the middle of the lounge, not sure of what to do next. Nickleby was hiding underneath a table, intent on showing his displeasure at Sam's long absence through indifference to his return.
Sam could hear a kettle being boiled and other sounds that let him know his mom was preparing something to eat. She stayed out of his way, letting him find his bearings. When she returned to find him still standing in the same place, she picked up his bags and told him to make a start putting his things away before lunch was ready. She left him. It was unbearably hard but one of the doctors had advised her to let Sam discover his home again on his own if possible. She stopped what she was doing and listened. She heard a bag being unzipped followed by footsteps, the sound of a drawer opening and more footsteps. When the drawer opening became drawers being banged she entered Sam's room.
"Did you move my things around?" Sam asked crossly.
"No. I washed the clothes you'd left lying on the floor, which is a habit you must have picked up since you left home, and I put your washing away. Everything is where it was, Sam."
"Okay, so why are my sweaters in my sock drawer?"
Nickleby entered the room, jumped on the bed and watched curiously as his owner spoke in a tone he didn't recognise.
"You must have moved things around before the accident. You were always shuffling your clothes around and organising them in different categories."
Sam sat on the bed and watched Nickleby jump off it. "I don't organise my clothes! I put them in a drawer or closet like anyone else."
"Yes, anyone else who sorts sweaters alphabetically according to their labels." She folded her arms and stared at her son, daring him to deny it.
"That was one time." Sam pulled the rest of the clothes out of the bag and sighed, "Is lunch ready?"
Claire walked over to the bed and took Sam's face in her hands, "Yes, darling, lunch is ready." She kissed him tenderly and waited for him to follow her to the kitchen.
Toby was staring at the empty chair behind Sam's desk. He really should have been nicer to Darren, or was it David? He put his hands in his pockets and sighed. Maybe if Leo could find him someone who was even slightly in Sam's league he wouldn't have to be so hard on whoever landed in Sam's office next. Maybe he should have told Sam he was irreplaceable instead of suggesting he was only ever one speech away from a welfare check. Toby shook his head and straightened. No. Sam never needed mollycoddling. He gave as good as he got. It was how they were, why they worked so well. Toby couldn't help feeling that maybe now it was too late to say anything that would matter to Sam. Maybe he'd just left it too late. Toby turned on hearing Leo's voice and watched as the latest replacement followed in his wake.
"Toby this is James Dalton. He's got two years with Governor Allen, three with Senator Bowles and two as assistant report editor for the Senate. Before moving to DC he worked at Baker and McKenzie in Chicago. You will not fire him or make his life so miserable that he resigns. Here's his résumé. Play nice!" With that, Leo left Toby and James standing face to face in the doorway.
"Baker and McKenzie."
"Yes."
"Ranked the largest law firm in America by revenue in 2010."
"Well, I worked there when it was only the third largest."
A flicker of a smile crossed Toby's face. He remembered having a similar conversation once about Gage Whitney. He pointed to Sam's desk. "That's a desk," he said helpfully.
"Yes, we had those at Baker and McKenzie. I should feel right at home."
Toby nodded. "Yeah." He watched as James pulled the chair out and sat down, placed his laptop in front of him, and pulled his glasses out of his top pocket. "What have you got for me?"
"Plenty," Toby admitted. "I've had a few staffing problems." He went to his office and returned with a pile of folders and left James to some reading. He would make sure James stayed. James was going to be his lucky omen. James, he decided, would be the last replacement before Sam returned.
