A/N: Just a heads up: things with Josh are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better. If that offends you, turn back now and come back in chapter 13. For those of you who have read any of my other lengthier pieces, you know that things tend to work themselves out in the end.

Also- since I couldn't find character birthdays on the show, I went with the tradition of giving the character the actor's birthday, which for Sam/Rob Lowe is March 17 (though that also changes-read on to find out).

Finally, there are some intense emotional moments for Sam. If he seems OOC, it's because I'm portraying someone whose entire world has just shattered and he's left picking up the pieces. My advice; just go with it. :)

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Chapter Eight

Monday, February 9

Hoynes paused in eating his breakfast to observe his youngest son.

Sam was poking listlessly at the food on his plate, moving it around more than eating it. He seemed a million miles away, his eyes staring blankly at some point on the table.

Hoynes glanced over at Elliot as if his son's moon could be revealed by the agent. Elliot was watching Sam as well, his face stony but his eyes betraying concern.

Hoynes turned back to his son. "Sam?"

Sam looked up. The loss in his eyes tugged at Hoynes' heart.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You seem down today."

Sam's eyes dropped back down to his food. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm not good company today."

"That's all right," Hoynes replied. "You don't have to be all the time. But if you want to talk about it, I'd be happy to listen."

Sam set his fork aside. "It's not important. Something didn't go the way I needed it to last week. Josh isn't very happy with me because of it."

Hoynes had a pretty good idea why. At the time, he'd had a visceral surge of vindication upon hearing about Winters pulling out of 286. Now, faced with his son's despondency, he couldn't help feeling some guilt.

"I'm sure that, whatever it is, Josh won't stay upset for long," Hoynes said. "He might be able to hold a grudge with the best of them, but he has a harder time hanging onto that anger with his friends. I can't imagine him staying mad at you for long."

Sam looked at Hoynes in surprise.

Hoynes smiled faintly. "What? We might not have parted on the best of terms, but that didn't mean I wasn't paying attention while he worked for me."

Sam returned the smile. He picked up his fork, the cloud of gloom over him dissipating. "Thanks."

Hoynes preened at the praise. "My pleasure," he replied. "Oh, by the way, the president has invited the family to dinner sometime this week."

Sam blinked in surprise. "He did?"

"Well, it's more like Abbey invited Suzanne," Hoynes amended. "They've been getting together and talking. I'm sure I'll get more information during lunch today."

"With Suzanne?" Sam asked.

Hoynes shook his head. "With Jed Bartlet."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "You're having lunch with the president?"

Hoynes nodded. "We're trying to make it a regular thing when our schedules allow. I have to say, it's nice to talk to someone about the gray hairs our kids give us."

The two chuckled lightly, the tension seeping even more from Sam's shoulders.

Movement near them drew their attention. Both looked up to see Josh standing beside their table, a strange-looking smile on his face. "What's going on here?" he asked.

"Josh, hi," Sam welcomed his friend. He read the emotions playing across Josh's face and grew still.

"Good morning, Josh," Hoynes greeted pleasantly, making an effort at civility for Sam's sake. "Would you care to join us for breakfast?"

"Thank you, sir, but no," Josh replied stiffly. "I just came to grab something to go. I have Senior Staff in fifteen minutes and I still have a phone call I need to make before then."

"Maybe next time, then," Hoynes offered.

"Sure." Josh's eyes shifted to his friend. "Sam."

"Morning, Josh," Sam replied, his tone subdued. "See you at Senior Staff."

Josh nodded sharply before turning on his heel and walking away. Sam's gut churned, but he couldn't pinpoint why.

"Well," Hoynes announced, setting his napkin on his plate. "Speaking of meetings, I have one myself in ten. I'll get the details about that dinner and let you know. Oh, and Jake told me to remind you to give him a call; something about a rematch?"

Sam nodded, finding a weak smile for Hoynes. "Yeah. Pool. We went to Callahan's last week. I'll call him."

Hoynes grinned. "I might want to tag along on that one myself. I'll see you later." Standing, he squeezed Sam's shoulder in farewell before taking his leave.

Elliot slid into Hoynes' empty seat as Sam pushed his plate to one side. "He's right, you know."

"Who's right about what?" Sam asked.

"The vice president," Elliot answered. "About Josh. He might be upset right now, but he'll get over it."

Sam nodded, but part of him remained unconvinced.

Elliot stood. "Come on; let's get you upstairs. We have just enough time to grab your stuff from your office before your meeting."

Sam stood and joined Elliot, walking out of the Mess.

Something wasn't right.

Toby glanced back and forth between Sam and Josh while they waited for Leo to arrive for Senior Staff. Both were sitting quietly in their seats, Sam occasionally glancing Josh's way and Josh pointedly ignoring him. The air between them practically vibrated with tension.

CJ shot Toby a questioning look, nodding at Sam and Josh. Toby rolled his eyes in return and shook his head.

Leo strode into the office. "Okay, what have we got?"

"The press are asking if there's any truth to the rumor that President Bartlet is going to Pennsylvania next week," CJ said promptly.

"CJ-," Toby started.

"Why the hell would the president go to Pennsylvania?" Leo demanded.

"He wouldn't," Toby told Leo. He turned to CJ. "He's not."

"There are rumors about a white supremacy group possibly discussing organizing a protest in Philadelphia, and that the president plans to go and assist the governor with handling the situation, up to and including deploying the national guard," CJ stated.

"No sources are confirming, so it's just hearsay," Sam added.

"Hearsay that's gaining traction," CJ rebutted.

"Because we're making a thing out of something that's not a thing," Toby pointed out. "Don't make it a thing."

"Why would we even send the president there?" Sam wondered. "It seems like something he would do over the phone anyway."

"Don't tell the press that!" Toby exclaimed. "The next thing you know, we'll hear that the president is calling air strikes on American citizens."

"Leo?" CJ prompted.

Leo shuffled through the messages on his desk. "The president hasn't told me of any visit and he's supposed to tell me these things. It's just a rumor; there's no trip."

CJ nodded.

"Okay," Leo said. "What else?"

"So I spent the weekend calling nearly every aide I knew to set up meetings with congressmen in order to try and get support for 286 back since Winters dropped out," Josh said. "I'm on the schedule for eleven of them so far."

Toby caught Sam's wince.

"See, I'm not understanding why he'd do something like that," CJ said. "He had the president's backing on five of his bills, and now that's gone."

"I wasn't part of that conversation," Josh said glibly. "You'd have to ask Sam."

"You know, we could review the bill again," Sam said, pushing down the reaction Josh's words tried to spark. "Maybe get Hoynes on our side instead of against it."

"We've been over this, Sam," Josh said, finally looking at him. "286 is too expensive as written, and Hoynes won't let go of the internet access issue."

"Which is a valid point," Sam conceded. "But the devices can't really do much without internet."

"Plenty of businesses offer free wifi," Josh insisted. "They can go to any one of them if we give them the computers."

Sam frowned. "Those businesses aren't usually found in the neighborhoods of the students we're planning to help," he pointed out. "They'd have to drive, possibly up to an hour away in some instances, late on a school night, just to do homework."

"Did your new buddy Hoynes tell you to say that?" Josh fired back.

The scathing note in Josh's sharp words rendered Sam speechless. His jaw hung open in shock, and his wasn't the only one.

"Josh!" Leo snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Josh had slipped too far into his temper to be reined in. "I mean, eating breakfast with him? Spending time with him? I thought you were on our team, but then I find you fraternizing with the enemy!"

Sam flushed, feeling his own temper begin to spark. "He's the vice president; he's not supposed to be the enemy!"

"Unless I missed something here, Hoynes has been solely responsible for blocking us from pushing 286 through committee," Josh said. "Well, until last Friday, anyway. When Winters conveniently backed out after his meeting with you. Coincidence?"

"Shut up, Josh," Toby snapped. "Before you manage to cram both feet in your mouth."

Josh rose to his feet. "I'm sorry, Leo, but I have to go. I've got back-to-back meetings all week trying to get back the support we lost last Friday."

He strode from the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

CJ glanced from one face to the next. "What the hell just happened?"

"Just Josh being a short-sighted idiot with his mouth running ahead of his brain," Toby replied flatly. "As usual."

Sam looked at Leo, his face burning with embarrassment. "Leo, I didn't sabotage 286. I swear."

Leo held up a hand. "I know, Sam." He glanced at Toby and CJ. "Can you two give us a minute? I'll reschedule Senior Staff for a later time."

Both nodded and stood. Toby turned to face his deputy. "Sam, come and see me after you're done here with Leo. I need to go over some specifics on the president's speech for the economists' dinner."

Sam nodded.

Leo waited for the door to close behind Toby and CJ before speaking. "Sam," he said. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how Josh gets when he's got something in his teeth."

Sam shook his head.

"Maybe it's time to consider telling Josh about your situation with Hoynes," Leo suggested. "Not so he'd stop accusing you, but because he's your friend." He shrugged. "As an added bonus, he might finally calm down about Hoynes."

Sam hunched his shoulders. "To be honest, Leo, telling him now would only make him think he was right about fraternizing with the enemy."

"You were right, you know," Leo told him. "Hoynes isn't supposed to be the enemy."

Sam nodded in agreement. "He's . . . not what I expected. Especially not after the picture Josh always painted of him."

Leo smirked. "That's because Josh knew Senator Hoynes and now Vice President Hoynes," he said. "He never knew him as 'Dad'. Trust me; you don't make it very far in this business without growing a thick skin and stiff backbone, but that doesn't mean you can't leave it at the door when you come home to family."

Sam reflected on his interactions with Hoynes. "I never thought of it like that."

Leo nodded. "You should tell Josh. Hell, you should tell CJ and Toby while you're at it, but only when you feel ready."

"I . . . kind of already told Toby," Sam admitted.

"You did?" Leo asked.

"More like blurted it out in his office, but yeah, Toby knows," Sam confirmed.

"That's good, Sam," Leo praised. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell him." His mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. "How did he take the news?"

Sam grinned. "Exactly how you'd expect, really," he answered. "Surprised, sarcastic . . . but he took it in stride right away. Didn't even question it."

"Of course," Leo replied. "You'd never lie about something like that."

Sam felt warmed by the compliment.

"All right, get outta here," Leo said, making a shooing motion with his hands. "Toby's probably waiting outside the door for you."

Sam laughed as he stood.

"And don't worry about Josh," Leo added. "He'll be fine once he pulls his head out of his ass."

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Leo."

Leo nodded and returned to the messages on his desk. A full five minutes passed in silence before he froze, then looked up.

"He told Toby first?"

"Wait," Bartlet said. "He told Toby first?"

Hoynes nodded, taking another bite from his grilled sandwich.

Barter narrowed his eyes at Hoynes. "Not Josh?" he pressed. "Are you sure he didn't say Josh?"

"Seeing as how Ziegler was in the room with us when Sam told me, I'm pretty sure," Hoynes replied.

"Damn," Bartlet swore, leaning back in his seat slightly. "That means I owe Abbey fifty bucks. I thought for sure he'd tell Josh first."

Hoynes chuckled.

Bartlet studied him for a moment. "You seem happier than I've ever seen you, John. More settled. Sam too."

Hoynes smiled. "I think the whole family is. Finding Sam has filled in the piece that we've been missing all these years."

"I understand that I have you and Suzanne to thank for stopping Sam from staying here until ungodly hours each night, too," Bartlet added.

Hoynes nodded. "Suzanne hasn't asked him for much, but she has asked for him to join us for dinner at home by six most nights. We've been taking the opportunity to get to know Sam better, and he seems to be getting used to the idea of being our son."

"Your other boys are still in town?" Bartlet asked.

"They both extended their stay," Hoynes confirmed. "I think they claimed family emergency. They're planning to stay until at least the end of the month, which is good. Sam's birthday is next week. I know they don't want to miss it."

"Next week?" Bartlet echoed.

Hoynes nodded. "The eighteenth." He frowned. "Why?"

"Mrs. Landingham usually gives me a longer heads up than that," Bartlet stated. "I'm pretty sure she hasn't mentioned it."

"Could be the Seaborns changed it," Hoynes offered, his expression clouding slightly at the thought. "If that's the case, then Sam probably has no idea."

"That'll help with keeping it a surprise," Bartlet said. He speared a grilled zucchini on his fork. "Does Suzanne have a plan in the works? Abbey hasn't mentioned anything."

"I think they're both still in the plotting stage," Hoynes told him. "Both mine and Suzanne's parents wanted to fly in for whatever it is that's being planned, but we managed to convince them to settle for video calls for now. Sam hasn't met them yet, and I don't want to set his progress backward."

Bartlet frowned in confusion. "How exactly do Abbey and Suzanne expect to have a birthday party if Sam hasn't told anyone but Toby about you guys?"

Hoynes smiled wryly. "If I've learned anything, it's to not get in the way of Suzanne and her boys."

"Good man," Bartlet chuckled. "Besides, I'm sure our wives will fill us in soon enough."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, enjoying the lunch that the cook had sent to them before Bartlet switched topics.

"Any more news on the case?" he asked.

Hoynes nodded. "The Secret Service finally brought Norman back to the U.S. They're on their way to DC to be questioned at FBI Headquarters."

"Has he said anything?" Bartlet asked.

"Just that he was surprised, mostly," Hoynes replied. "And confused; according to Agent Butterfield, he doesn't seem to know why the Secret Service apprehended him." He paused. "I heard that he asked to speak to Sam."

"Makes sense," Bartlet said. "Secret Service involvement is a big clue that Sam's involved, since Sam works here. That's not too big of a leap to make."

Hoynes scowled. "Butterfield is concerned that Seaborn might lawyer up if he doesn't get to speak to Sam."

"It might not hurt for Sam to talk to him," Bartlet said gently. "At least he can do it in a safe place. Nothing will happen to him at the FBI, and he can get some closure on all of this."

"I don't want him anywhere near those people!" Hoynes snapped.

Bartlet raised an eyebrow. "You know he'll go there, whether you want him to or not. He's headstrong like that." He tipped his head slightly to one side. "Just like his father."

The words softened Hoynes' ire like nothing else could. He sagged slightly. "I'm just worried that, if he goes, he'll get hurt. I don't get the sense that they were very good parents to him."

Bartlet's brows drew together in confusion. "How do you mean?"

Hoynes sighed. "He was so surprised at how we were at our first family dinner, and it seems to still catch him off guard each time he eats with us," he answered. "It wasn't anything out of the ordinary; we just talk and joke around. And he was absolutely floored that I wanted to make our breakfasts together a regular thing; did I tell you that?"

Bartlet shook his head, his mind wandering back to the previous week and his conversation with Congressman Winters.

"It's like he doesn't understand how a family works," Hoynes continued. "It breaks your heart, seeing how happy he is with the attention. And I'm not the only one who's noticed; I know Suzanne has seen it too."

"Has he said much?" Bartlet asked. "About growing up with the Seaborns?"

"Not a lot," Hoynes replied, shaking his head. "Mostly, he talks about things he's done as a kid, but he tends to change the subject if anyone asks him about the Seaborns." He huffed. "I wish he'd tell me; whatever it is, it can't be worse than what I can imagine."

"Sam is a polite, intelligent, and caring man," Bartlet said. "His life before now, whatever it may have been, shaped him into who he is." Seeing the thought sink in, Bartlet pressed on. "Anything new with Chelsea Seaborn?"

The scowl returned with a vengeance. "She's hiding behind an army of lawyers," Hoynes bit out. "The FBI and the Secret Service are doing everything they can to keep under the radar, but without a warrant, they can't get access to her. They have enough to bring it to a judge for one, but then it becomes public record, and . . ."

"And the cat is out of the bag," Bartlet concluded.

Hoynes nodded. "Her lawyers are some of the best on the West Coast, and they aren't budging. Chelsea must come from old money, if some of the names are the people I'm thinking about."

"Winters money, apparently," Bartlet stated.

Hoynes' eyes widened, his gaze snapping to Bartlet. "What?"

Bartlet raised his eyebrows. "You didn't know either? Evidently, Chelsea's brother is Congressman Christopher Winters."

"I know Winters," Hoynes said. "He's not a man you ever want to cross, if the rumors on the Hill are anything to go by. Personally, I never liked him, and was glad when I moved to the Senate and didn't have to deal with him as much." His frown deepened. "Do you think the Secret Service knows?"

"They must," Bartlet replied. "They're the Secret Service."

"Still, I want to talk to Agent Butterfield about it," Hoynes decided. "Maybe Winters knows something about the kidnapping."

"It couldn't hurt," Bartlet agreed. "Oh, Abbey wanted me to talk to you about dinner Wednesday night . . ."

Tuesday, February 10

Sam was so deep in thought as he drafted the first version of the internet security section of the administration goals speech that he nearly missed the knock on his door. "Come in," he called, not looking away from his laptop screen.

"Sam?"

Sam looked in surprise at Ron Butterfield standing in his doorway. "Agent Butterfield, come in! What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Butterfield closed the door behind him and moved to the chair Sam gestured to. "A couple of things, actually. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course," Sam replied. He set aside his notepad and closed his laptop to give Butterfield his full attention.

"First, I noticed that Agent Price ordered a more detailed background check on Congressman Christopher Winters," Butterfield began. "When I asked him about it, he mentioned some of his concerns to me."

Sam felt his cheeks grow warm. "There's no need for concern, Agent Butterfield. I'm fine."

Butterfield fixed Sam with a very serious expression. "Sam, anyone who lays a hand on you with the intent to cause harm is committing a crime. Even before your real identity was discovered. Now, as the son of the vice president, it could be construed as a threat to national security. At the moment, there's nothing we can do about past offenses without proof. If you don't want to press charges, there's nothing I can do to stop you. What I can do, however, is ensure that you are no longer permitted to be alone with him again. You do not leave Agent Price's sight in public locations. Understood?"

Sam nodded, too embarrassed to argue. He looked down.

"Sam," Butterfield said, his tone soft.

Sam met his eyes.

"You don't deserve to be treated that way," Butterfield stated firmly.

Sam cleared his throat, blinking away his sudden tears. "Ah, you mentioned there were a couple things?"

Butterfield nodded, accepting the clumsy switch of topics. "Yes. The reason I noticed Agent Price's background check was because I was already running one. It seems that Congressman Winters is the one paying for his sister's lawyers."

Sam shrugged. "Of course; she's his sister."

"Who has a considerable amount of her own money," Butterfield pointed out. "And a lawyer for a husband. His involvement isn't sitting right with me at the moment."

"Mom's always been a little . . . flighty, I guess you could say," Sam said. "Overly dependent on Uncle Chris, too. Dad wasn't always around; I guess Uncle Chris just got used to taking care of us."

"All the more reason to look into him," Butterfield replied. "If Chelsea was involved in your abduction, she might have turned to him for help. We're gathering as much information as we can, but it's been exceedingly difficult with the lawyers that Congressman Winters has provided her. The only person left who might know is Norman, and he won't talk to us."

Sam jolted in his chair. "You've seen my dad? He's back in the country?"

"He arrived a couple days ago," Butterfield said. "He also wants to talk to you."

Sam was stunned. "He . . . what?"

"He appeared to be very confused about why he was picked up until we started asking him what he knew about the circumstances of your birth," Butterfield continued. "Then he invoked his right to an attorney and refused to speak until he sees you."

For the last couple of weeks, the one thing Sam had wanted more than anything was to speak to at least one of his parents. Now, with the opportunity right in front of him, he found himself hesitant to take it. The irony was not lost on Sam. "How long do I have to decide?"

Butterfield's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the question. "We can hold him until this evening without charging him, but then we have to release him. I know it's short notice, but this afternoon would be best."

Sam nodded as Butterfield stood. "If you decide to go ahead and visit, just let Agent Price know," the agent said. "He'll take care of the details."

Butterfield left Sam behind to his swirling thoughts.

Toby had been back from his lunch meeting with the two senators who most favored government welfare all of five minutes when the light knock on the door drew his attention away from the messages that Ginger had passed him. He looked up, spying Sam hovering anxiously in his doorway.

"Sam," Toby greeted. "Did you finish that soundbite for the press on the energy package?"

Sam entered the office and sat on the couch. "Yeah, I already gave it to CJ. She's good with it."

Toby set his messages aside and leaned back in his chair. "Okay," he said. "So what's up?"

Sam fidgeted with his hands. "Agent Butterfield came to see me earlier. He told me that he's got my dad in custody and that he wants to see me."

"And by 'your dad', you mean . . ." Toby clarified.

Sam winced. "Um, Norman. Yeah."

"And he wants to see you," Toby continued.

Sam nodded. "He won't talk to anyone until he does.

Toby studied Sam for a long moment. "I would have thought you'd be chomping at the bit to talk to him yourself," he finally said.

Sam suddenly surged to his feet, hands gripping his hair. "I am!" he cried. "Or, I thought I was! I mean, they're the only ones I haven't heard from about all of this. I needed to hear from them that this whole thing was real, that I was really Sam Seaborn, and not . . ." He trailed off.

"Lot of past tense in that statement," Toby observed. "What changed your mind?"

Sam's shoulders sagged. "I . . . being around John . . . around Suzanne, and with Jake and Jamie . . . it's too easy. Like I fit in, in a way that I never did as a Seaborn . . . maybe too easy . . ."

Toby pointed a finger at Sam as the younger man sank back onto the couch. "Don't go starting down that track. You fit in because you're their kid."

Sam nodded slowly. "I think . . . I'd still like to talk to my- to Norman," he decided. "I need answers, and I think he has them." He looked at Toby. "I was wondering . . . would you come with me?"

Toby's eyes rounded slightly at the timid request. "You want me to go with you?"

"But if you're too busy-," Sam backtracked.

Toby waved a hand at him. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'll go with you. When do we leave?"

Sam's expression turned sheepish. "Now?"

". . . the push for alternative sources of energy will only serve to constrain our market. You need to change it."

"Gentlemen, I understand where you're coming from," Hoynes told his audience. In response to a proposed bill to fund more research into renewable energy, each of the largest oil companies had sent a representative to lobby with him. "But let's look at the facts: with increasing population size, we increase fossil fuel consumption. It's a finite resource. What's the harm in looking into alternatives in the meantime?"

Before anyone could respond, a Secret Service agent stepped forward, one hand on his ear. "Excuse me, Mr. Vice President?"

Hoynes turned and looked at the agent.

"They're heading out now, sir," the agent stated.

Hoynes glanced at his watch. "Okay. Let's give it about an hour."

"Yes, sir," the agent replied before moving back to his post against the wall.

One of the representatives cleared his throat. "Is everything all right, Mr. Vice President?"

Hoynes smiled at him. "Of course," he replied lightly. "Please excuse the interruption. Where were we?"

Sam had never visited the FBI Headquarters before, and as Elliot led him and Toby unerringly through the maze of halls, he was grateful for the agent's presence.

The rest of his protection detail shadowing them in a law enforcement building still felt like overkill, however. Sam wondered if he could negotiate Hoynes down to just Elliot assigned to him.

The group was silent as they piled into the elevator and rode it to the fifth floor. Once again, Elliot took the lead, walking towards a reception desk. Instead of stopping and checking in, as Sam expected him to do, Elliot merely nodded at the receptionist, who nodded in return, and led the group past the desk and into a larger room with desks covered in files, folders, and computers. Agents with badges clipped to belts or hanging on chains around their necks were clustered throughout the room typing, working, talking . . . If it weren't for the guns in several holsters on some of the agents, Sam could have sworn the scene was a reflection of one he saw regularly in the West Wing.

Elliot was no stranger to several in the room; agents immediately looked as they passed before continuing with their work, but a number of them called out greetings to the Secret Service agent. Elliot returned their greetings briefly, but continued deeper into the room to where Sam could see another hall with several doors on either side.

Elliot moved to the first door on the right, opening it. Two of Sam's security detail immediately entered, but Elliot paused and turned to face Sam and Toby.

"Wait here while I let the ASAC know we're ready," he told them.

Sam obediently walked inside, noticing the few chairs in the room facing a large window that looked into an empty room next door.

Toby followed him in, the door closing behind him. He nodded at the two agents who had taken up posts on either side of the door, then looked at Sam. "You okay?"

Sam nodded, but his folded arms betrayed his unease. "I didn't think I'd be this nervous, though."

"Makes sense," Toby commented lightly. "I'd be nervous too. Just remember that nothing he says will change the fact that you are Hoynes' son. You're the same person you always were; the only thing that's changed is your name."

Sam gave him a grateful smile.

The sound of a door opening drew their attention next door. Sam and Toby moved closer to the window and watched as an agent in a suit led two men into the room. The two men sat down at a table, their chairs facing the window. Once they were seated, the agent left.

"That him?" Toby asked.

Sam wasn't sure which 'him' Toby was referring to, but he nodded anyway. "The one on the right is my . . . is Norman. The man on the left is his best friend from law school. Uncle Peter. Peter Baylor. They work in the same firm and are each other's lawyers if they need one."

"Have they needed one before?" Toby asked.

"Not that they've ever told me," Sam admitted. "I've heard them joke about it at parties. I guess they meant it."

The door to their room opened, and Elliot poked his head in. "Sam; you ready?"

Sam took a deep breath and nodded.

"Hey." Toby caught Sam's elbow as he began to step away. "I'll be right here the whole time."

Words jumbling in his throat, Sam could only nod before letting Elliot lead him into the next room.

Norman and Peter looked up at their entrance, their expressions moving from guarded to surprised. Sam distantly registered the door closing as he came to a stop across the table from his father.

"Sam?" Norman said.

"You sound surprised to see me," Sam commented.

"I guess I am," Norman admitted. "I didn't think those agents were listening to me."

"They were," Sam told him. "I only found out this morning that you asked for me. I wasn't available until now."

"I'm glad you're here," Norman said softly.

Peter's eyes looked at something behind Sam. "We asked for a private meeting with Sam."

Sam turned and found Elliot leaning against the wall beside the large one-way mirror.

Elliot was unmovable. "Given the nature of our investigation, this is as private as you're going to get."

Peter rose, tugging on Norman's arm. "No deal. Norm, let's go."

Norman raised his other hand, palm out, towards Peter. "It's all right, Pete."

Peter searched Norman's face to assure himself of Norman's sincerity. Reluctantly, he sat back down.

Norman gestured at the chair in front of Sam. "Sam; won't you sit?"

Sam sat down, his eyes never leaving the face of the man he had believed to be his father for the last twenty-six years.

Norman let out a long breath, then chuckled. "I'm not even sure where to start."

Sam had about a million questions swirling around in his head. "How about starting with why you asked to see me?"

Norman glanced over at Peter, who nodded. Norman sighed.

"I guess it had to come out sometime," he started. "Especially now that you work at the White House and had to get a pretty extensive background check. I just didn't expect this degree of severity."

"What had to come out?" Sam demanded.

"Sam . . ." Norman took a deep breath. "Have they told you that I wasn't your father?"

Sam nodded.

Norman met his eyes. "They were right."

Sam knew they were right. He'd known for a couple of weeks, had seen the evidence. Hearing it now, confirmed by Norman, felt like a gut punch. Sam heard a rushing sound in his ears. "Wh-What? You knew?"

"It's a long story . . ." Norman trailed off.

"You've been lying to me for the last twenty-six years," Sam said bitterly. "I've got the time."

Norman looked startled at the harsh statement. Color tinted his cheeks in embarrassment. "You're right," he said. "I should have said something a long time ago. I just . . . I didn't know how to tell you."

Sam waited patiently for Norman to gather his thoughts.

"I met your mother . . . I met Chelsea right out of law school," he began. "That part's true. Her father was a senior partner in Winters, Blowers, and Sharpe. They were having a Christmas party, and I was invited to attend by a friend."

Sam nodded. He's heard this part of the story before.

"Chelsea caught my eye almost immediately," Norman continued. "I asked her out, and we were dating before I knew it. I really did love her at first, but after a few months, she started to change. She started acting clingy . . . codependent. She called me almost constantly, started showing up at my work, at outings with my friends . . . I thought about breaking it off. I tried, but she just clung tighter. My own parents didn't think anything was wrong with her behavior, and in fact were pressuring me to marry her. So I did."

Sam was appalled, and not a little disgusted. "Even though you didn't love her?"

"I used to," Norman replied. "I thought, maybe, I could again. Maybe she'd ease up if we were married. And for a while, she did. But then I met this law clerk in my firm."

"Aunt Sarah?" Sam asked quietly.

Norman nodded. His gaze became dreamy. "Sarah. We got to know each other pretty well, since both of us had late nights more often than not. She was just so different from Chelsea; so put together, so intelligent . . . one thing led to another, and we started seeing each other."

"Didn't she know you were married?" Sam asked.

"She wasn't happy about it, but she understood my situation," Norman admitted.

Sam shook his head, wrestling with his disbelief. "How does this all connect to you not being my father?"

"Chelsea . . . she's not . . ." Norman struggled for the right words.

"Not what?" Sam asked.

"She's insane," Norman blurted out. "She just . . . after a few months of marriage, and I started getting bigger cases, she just got more possessive and insecure. She'd accuse me of the craziest thing one minute, then act like we were the perfect couple the next. I just couldn't handle it! So I started spending more time in the office, just to get a break from it all."

"And to spend more time with Sarah," Sam added. "Do you think, maybe, that she started acting like that because you were avoiding her?"

Norman shrugged. "Looking back on it, yeah. But I was too deep into it by that point. Then, one day, I get home from work and she tells me that she's pregnant.

"Things got better for a while," Norman continued. "I was so excited to be a father. I started coming home on time more, cooled things off with Sarah . . . Chelsea seemed to be doing better, too. But one day, when she was about six months pregnant, I was searching in the attic for something and I found a pregnancy pad."

The devastation was plain on Norman's face. "I didn't confront her then; it could be a mistake, right?" He shook his head. "When I thought about it, she never let me touch her stomach. She always said she didn't want me to hurt the baby. So, that night, when she was sleeping, I checked under her night shirt. Sure enough, she was faking the whole thing."

"Did you say something then?" Sam asked.

"I was going to," Norman answered. "I almost did. I was so angry; I wanted so badly to be mistaken. But things were so much better at home. Chelsea was so much better. I figured there were three months left to go anyway; she'd eventually have to give up the charade, right?"

"Clearly, it didn't work out that way," Sam snarked.

Norman shook his head. "She decided to go visit her brother near her . . . well, what she said was her due date. Next thing I know, I get a phone call that she'd had the baby.

"I had no idea what to think!" Norman spread his hands apart on the table. "There was no way she gave birth, but suddenly there you were, in her arms, in my house. You weren't ours, but Chelsea kept acting like you were. I thought maybe she adopted you, or got you from a teenage mom or something. It happens.

"Then I heard about this senator whose baby had gone missing in DC while Chelsea was there," Norman concluded. "It was national news. Part of me wondered if maybe . . . but . . . Chelsea was crazy, no doubt about that. But I didn't think even she was that crazy."

"And you never thought to say something?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"Without concrete proof?" Norman countered. "She came from a family of extremely powerful and connected lawyers. Accuse her of kidnapping when I wasn't even there? Even bringing up the pregnancy pads wouldn't have done any good; they could have argued that she used them to try on clothing for her next trimester. Believe me, I considered my options. There was nothing I could do."

Sam looked away, processing the information.

Norman leaned forward in his chair. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out. I just . . . Chelsea wanted to have a child so much, so I just . . . let her have you. I did what was expected of me, and I provided for the both of you, as best I could."

"So . . . all those 'business trips' . . ." Sam trailed off.

Norman shrugged. "Some were real. But most of them, yes, I was with Sarah. She was the life I wanted. Chelsea, and some other man's child? You were the life I was stuck with."

The words pierced Sam's heart like a dagger. The man he'd looked up to growing up; the man he'd tried so hard his whole life to impress had never loved him.

There came a knock on the door, and the agent from earlier stepped into the room. "Mr. Seaborn, Mr. Baylor; we still have a few more questions for you. Will you come with me, please?"

Norman nodded and stood. He looked at Sam as if to say something more. Instead, he turned and followed his best friend out of the room.

Sam sat stiff as a board, staring blankly at the table in front of him. A look of loss and utter devastation colored his expression.

The door opened a second time, but Sam didn't bother to look. He sucked in a sharp, surprised breath when he felt a gentle hand squeeze his shoulder.

"C'mon," came Toby's quiet voice. "Let's get out of here."

Sam didn't react. He didn't have the words. The last threads of hope that connected him to his past life had finally snapped, leaving him adrift in a fog of confusion.

The hand on his shoulder slid down to his elbow and urged him out of his chair. "Come on," Toby said again.

Elliot fell into step on Sam's other side as the two men exited the room. Sam allowed himself to be led back through the bullpen, not even noticing that the path they took was different from the one they had used when they arrived.

Toby checked something on his phone, then directed Elliot through some doors at the back of the building. The small group walked through an underground parking garage towards a familiar black SUV. The back door of the SUV opened as soon as they were near, and John Hoynes stepped out.

Sam blinked in surprise upon seeing him, but Toby didn't so much as hesitate as he led his deputy to his father.

"Sir," Toby greeted, nodding.

Hoynes nodded back. "Thanks, Toby," he said. "Do you need a lift?"

"No, sir, thank you," Toby replied. "I'll just catch a ride back with the rest of Sam's detail." He glanced at the shell-shocked younger man, then back to Hoynes. "Take care of him?"

"Of course." Hoynes studied his youngest son carefully as Toby walked away. Sam met his gaze wordlessly.

"Are you all right?" Hoynes asked him gently.

Sam thought about the man he had thought to be his father and the harsh truth that he had imparted. The contrast with the genuine concern from a father he'd known for only a couple of weeks caused a lump to rise in his throat. He nodded jerkily, hoping to convey that he was all right despite the feeling of his heart breaking.

Something unfamiliar to Sam passed over Hoynes' face. Stepping closer, Hoynes opened his arms and gathered Sam into a firm embrace. After half a moment, Sam wrapped himself around his father and melted into the hug.

They stood that way for several moments before Hoynes tightened his arm in a squeeze, then stepped back. "Come on," he said, wrapping one arm around Sam's back and leading him to the SUV. "Let's get going."

Sam climbed into the car, Hoynes joining him in the back. Sam watched as Elliot shut the door, then circled around the vehicle to jump into the passenger seat.

"How did you know I was here?" Sam asked, finally finding his voice.

Hoynes smiled faintly. "The Secret Service reports all moves of their protectees to each other. I asked my detail to let me know if you decided to come here, and when they told me, I asked Mark to clear my schedule."

Sam glanced out the window as the SUV turned into traffic, then looked back at Hoynes. "Are you mad?"

Hoynes raised his eyebrows. "Mad?" he echoed. "Why would I be mad?"

"You didn't want me to see him," Sam reminded him. "Either of them."

Sadness crossed Hoynes' face. "I didn't, but that was because I didn't want them to get another chance to hurt you," he admitted. "But I understand your need for answers . . . for closure." He tilted his head as he considered his son. "Did you find any?"

Sam's bark of laughter was harsh and bitter. "I'd say so." He looked back out the window. "He knew I wasn't his son."

Hoynes frowned.

Sam turned back in time to catch the look. "He didn't know whose son I was, just that I wasn't his." He shook his head, not ready to revisit the fact that Norman had suspected him of being Charlie Hoynes. If he'd only said something back then . . . "My whole life is a lie! I don't even know who I am anymore!"

Hoynes couldn't help but to reach out for him. "You're my son."

Sam pulled away. "I don't even know who that is!" he cried. "How can I be someone I don't even know? I thought I knew the man they wanted me to be, but as it turns out that man doesn't even exist!"

And just like that, Hoynes understood what Sam was struggling to put into words.

"Sam, your mother and I don't need you to make yourself into our son," he stated. "It's what you are. You don't need to change anything about yourself for our sake. Your career, your interests, your beliefs; those are things that belong to you. Your name doesn't define you. You define you. And whether you decide to be a speechwriter, a lawyer, or something else down the road, your mother and I will always be there for you. You're our son, and nothing is going to change that. Nothing."

Sam tried to fight back the tears that filled his eyes, but he so desperately needed to believe Hoynes' words.

Hoynes reached out again, this time drawing an unresisting Sam into a hug. "The Seaborns . . . whatever their issues are, they go far beyond anything you can control. You are not responsible for their actions, and you are not required to meet anyone's expectations but your own."

"Nothing was ever good enough," Sam admitted, the words tumbling out of his mouth out of his control. "Nothing I did . . . it was never enough . . ."

Hoynes tightened his hold. "It will be enough for us," he promised. "You will always be enough. We may not always agree on things, or see eye to eye, but I promise you, here and now, that you will always be enough for us. There is nothing you will ever do to make me think otherwise. You're my son, and I will love you for the rest of my life."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, several tears escaping. He leaned into his father and allowed himself to soak up the comfort that Hoynes so willingly gave.

end chapter 8