Chapter Eleven
Monday, February 16
The press briefing room on Monday morning was packed full of reporters, leaving standing room only. Sam couldn't remember a time when he'd seen quite so many members of the press in one room, and given that they'd been summoned with only the promise of major news with no additional clues, Sam was impressed with CJ's acumen with the media.
The room was buzzing with a growing energy as various reporters tossed suppositions back and forth. Ringed around the room, Sam could just make out members of his security detail blending in among the press. Elliot was hovering protectively nearby with Hoynes' primary agent, Carl. Hoynes was standing beside Sam, waiting patiently for the press conference to begin.
"How are you feeling?" he asked Sam.
Sam gave him a smile, but it felt pained. "Honestly? I feel terrified."
Hoynes frowned in concern. "You don't have to be here for this," he stated. He gestured to where CJ was going over her notes with Steve. "We can tell Steve and CJ right now to give the press the prepared statement, and I'll handle all the questions myself."
Sam felt very tempted to take the out being offered, but . . . "Thanks, but I'll be okay. I want to do this."
Hoynes smiled fondly at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, kid."
Sam's smile turned shy.
CJ chose that moment to approach, giving father and son both a searching look. "It's just about that time. You two ready?"
Sam nodded, feeling his nerves return.
"All right," CJ continued. "Just like we talked about. And Sam? I'll be right there with you the whole time. If you get uncomfortable or if you want to stop, just give me the signal."
With a pat on his back, CJ moved to her podium and confidently called the room to order.
"Good morning," she greeted everyone. "We're going to do this a little out of order today. We'll have our usual briefing at ten this morning, but for this briefing I have a prepared statement to read."
CJ looked down at her folio. "Twenty-seven years ago, the youngest son of Vice President Hoynes was abducted from the National Mall. Despite extensive investigations and searches, no trace of him was ever found. During the course of background checks run by the FBI and Secret Service for President Bartlet's administration, Vice President Hoynes' son was discovered to be Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn. Vice President Hoynes is here with us today to take your questions."
At his cue, Hoynes stepped into view as every reporter in the room jumped to their feet and began hollering questions at him. Hoynes strode purposefully toward the podium amid flashes of photographs, smiling and nodding at CJ as he took her place.
Sam hesitated a moment, then followed after his father. As soon as he moved into view, the attention of the press shifted in his direction. Sam swallowed his nervousness and kept his eyes on Hoynes' encouraging look, joining him at the podium.
With a final, assessing look over Sam, Hoynes turned to the crowd and pointed at one of the reporters. "Roger?"
The din settled as Roger Salier from News Center 4 called out the first question. "Mr. Vice President, what steps have been taken to verify your son's identity?"
Sam began to relax slightly as the questions began to follow the same track that Danny's had the previous Saturday. He stood beside Hoynes, content to let his father take the lead, until Katie Witt called his name.
"Sam?"
Sam's eyes zeroed in on the reporter. "Yes, Katie?" he replied, moving closer to the mic as Hoynes yielded his position at the podium.
"Have you spoken to the Seaborns recently about your identity as Charlie Hoynes?" Katie asked.
"Yes," Sam replied, knowing better than to elaborate.
Katie was undeterred. "What have they said in regards to their culpability in your abduction?"
Hoynes moved closer, his hand on Sam's back keeping Sam in place. "The FBI is currently looking into the circumstances of Sam's disappearance. Once their investigation is concluded, we'll share that information then."
"Are you going to continue to go by the name Sam Seaborn?" Chris Seager abruptly called.
Sam glanced up at Hoynes, finding no recrimination or pressure for his answer. Sam turned back to Chris. "I'm still going to use 'Sam' for now. I haven't made any other decisions beyond that."
The reporters surged forward again, this time calling for both Sam and Hoynes. Together, the two took questions and expertly fired back answers without hesitation. Before long, CJ slid between them and the podium.
"All right, folks, that'll do it," she said. "I'm sure you all have some quick calls to make. See you all again at ten."
Sam found himself being ushered by Elliot through the path that his detail had made through the throng of reporters still calling his name. Once they made it out of the briefing room and into a more secure section of the West Wing, he turned to find Hoynes behind him, with CJ and Steve quickly following.
"That went really well," CJ told them. "You did a great job."
"I agree," Steve chimed in. "I expect we'll see more questions at the next briefing, along with requests for interviews. We'll head that off for now, but we may need to agree to sit for some."
"We'll run those by you before agreeing to any of that," CJ assured them. "Danny was able to delay his article's publication to time with the press conference. Hopefully that will help satisfy most of their questions in the meantime."
"Thank you," Hoynes said. "Both of you. You've done a fantastic job, especially with only a forty-eight hour notice."
CJ and Steve nodded at the thanks and took their leave, heads bent together as they strategized their next moves.
Hoynes turned to Sam. "I have a meeting with the HUD secretary in five minutes. Since we missed breakfast today, how do you feel about meeting for lunch?"
Sam nodded, smiling. "Sounds good. Is 12:30 okay?"
"That works for me." Hoynes hesitated a moment, then drew Sam into a brief hug, squeezing tightly before releasing him. "See you then," he said, then walked down the hall with his security detail.
Elliot's light hand on his elbow pulled Sam out of his surprise. With a nod to the former SEAL, Sam turned and made his way towards his office to collect his notes for the meeting that Toby had started with their department during the press conference.
He was halfway through the communications bullpen when he realized that the eyes of every staffer in the room had lifted and were following him. His steps faltered slightly upon noticing the attention, but Sam screwed up his courage and resumed his pace.
Toby was holding court with the speechwriters in the Roosevelt room by the time Sam joined him. The Communications Director didn't miss a beat in his instructions, but just as in the bullpen, the eyes of the staff turned to Sam as he sat down at the table.
Toby tried to carry on for another minute, but his irritation at his staff's inattention quickly won out.
"Have I suddenly started talking to myself here?" he exclaimed.
Sam looked at him, startled, before glancing around the room. Seeing the eyes on him, he blushed.
Toby rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Frank, the background research on the latest findings on fossil fuel consumption rates is still missing," he said. "Are you planning on getting that to me anytime in the near future?"
Frank's head snapped to Toby. "Er, yes, um . . . as soon as possible. I just . . . I'm waiting on a phone call."
"And have you followed back up on that phone call?" Toby asked, his mild tone doing nothing to conceal his growing frustration.
"No," Frank admitted. "Not yet. But I will."
"Today would be good," Toby stated. "I mean, the administration goals speech is only one week from tomorrow, so it's not like we're under a time crunch or anything."
Frank colored and mumbled something under his breath.
"All right," Toby continued. "Wyatt, where are we on the statistics on welfare?"
"Uh . . . what?" Wyatt tore his awed gaze from Sam and blinked dazedly at Toby.
"Oh, for . . ." Toby bit off what he was about to say, visibly reining in his temper. "All of you; take twenty minutes to go get your heads on straight, then be back here ready to lock in this draft!"
Chairs scraped the floor as everyone hurried to obey.
"And Frank?" Toby added.
Frank froze, his eyes wide as he looked at Toby.
"Now would be a good time to make that phone call," Toby told him.
Frank nodded, scurrying out the doors after the rest of the speechwriters, leaving Toby and Sam alone in the room.
Sam let out a groan and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry."
Toby snorted as he dropped into the chair at the head of the table. "This might be the first time they've had to work around major news events, but it definitely won't be their last. They better shape up now, or I'll toss their asses out of here myself." He studied Sam as the younger man leaned back in his chair. "I only saw CJ's statement before the meeting started, but I skimmed Danny's article in the Post. How did the Q and A go?"
"CJ and Steve gave us their stamp of approval, so okay I guess." Sam took a deep breath, his next question hesitant. "Did you . . . have you seen Josh yet this morning?"
"Believe it or not, I count it a good day when I can go a whole morning without seeing him," Toby replied glibly. "That usually means he hasn't done anything that requires fixing with the press."
Sam smiled weakly at the comment.
Toby tilted his head slightly. "Is he still walking around with his head up his ass?"
"He's right to be upset with me," Sam defended his friend.
"I'll take that as a yes," Toby stated. "Tell you what; if he hasn't gotten over his snit by tomorrow, I'll sic Donna on him."
Sam chuckled appreciatively, feeling lighter with Toby's support. "I appreciate that, but this is something I need to fix. Thanks, though."
Toby shrugged. "Well, while we're waiting for our writers to come back with their heads screwed on straight, let's go over where we are on 286 and our next steps," he suggested, pulling out a folder from the pile on the table and flipping it open.
Sam hovered nervously at Donna's desk that afternoon. "Um . . . hi, Donna."
Donna looked up, a smile blooming on her face. "Sam!" She stood and threw her arms around his neck. "Hi! How are you doing?" She pulled back, light blue eyes searching Sam's face. "This is just so incredible!"
Sam couldn't help smiling at her warm greeting. "I'm still having a hard time believing it myself." His smile faltered as his gaze drifted to Josh's closed door. He nodded at it. "Is he in there?"
Donna's look turned sly. "He told me to tell people that he's not in there."
"Oh." Sam's smile fell completely away in his disappointment. "So he's not in?"
"No, he told me to tell people he's not in there while he sulks over his contacts list," Donna told him.
"I'm pretty sure he didn't say that last part," Sam said wryly.
Donna shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm paraphrasing." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Hey, I'm going to go get some coffee. If anyone asks, the key to Josh's office is under the plant on my desk."
Sam's smile returned. "Thanks, Donna."
Donna smiled brightly. "For what?" she asked as she collected her purse. With a wink, she slipped past Sam and headed down the hall.
Sam moved to Josh's door. Leaning close, he listened for sounds of life on the other side, then knocked. "Josh?"
When no answer was forthcoming, Sam retrieved the key and unlocked the door. He pushed it open. "Josh?"
Josh was sitting behind his desk, his eyes glued to his computer screen. "I would have thought that my not answering you the first time would have been a clue that I don't want to talk right now."
"Come on, Josh," Sam said. "You can't stay mad at me forever."
Josh leaned back in his chair and turned to face Sam. "Who said I was made? Why would I be mad? My best friend only kept the biggest news of his life from me while single-handedly sabotaging all of my work on 286. Who would be mad?"
Sam ignored the sting in the words. "I screwed up, Josh, I know. I'm here to apologize. And . . ."
Josh folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "And?"
Sam clasped his hands together, twisted his fingers, then dropped them down at his sides. "And . . . I've been thinking about legally changing my name. I'd like it if you went with me."
Josh stared in silence at Sam for a long moment.
"I haven't told anyone else I'm doing it yet," Sam admitted. "I wanted to-."
"Sorry, Sam," Josh cut him off. "I don't have time. I'm a little busy trying to salvage 286 to go on a little side trip. You should ask Toby, though. I'm sure he'd be happy to tag along. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
Sam felt his heart sink in his chest. "Josh-."
Josh turned back to his computer. "Be sure to close the door on your way out."
Sam slunk out of the office, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.
Wednesday, February 18
A light knock on his door coaxed Toby out of his revision of the president's upcoming speech for the NRA. His chin lifted before his eyes, finding Sam hovering in his doorway.
"What's up?" he asked, his mind reviewing the tasks that had recently landed on Sam's desk.
"I wanted to let you know . . . give you the head's up . . . I'm going to be out of the office for a couple hours," Sam finally said. "But I'll have my half of the draft finished before I leave for the day."
Toby was intrigued at Sam's nervous behavior. "Everything okay?"
Sam nodded vigorously. "Of course!" he exclaimed with a painfully forced breeziness. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Maybe because you've been moping around the office like a kicked puppy for the last couple of days?" Toby suggested.
Sam frowned. "I haven't been that bad!"
Toby raised an eyebrow. "Did I see Donna bring you coffee yesterday?"
Sam's frown shifted to one of confusion. "Yes?"
"Like I said." Toby set the speech aside. "Can I ask where you're headed?"
"Um . . . I have an appointment at the courthouse," Sam admitted. "I, uh . . . I decided I wanted to change my name. Legally."
Toby nodded thoughtfully. "And you're going alone?"
Sam lifted a shoulder. "Well, Elliot's going. And the rest of my detail."
Toby simply stared at him.
Sam's gaze dropped to the floor. "I asked Josh to go with me the other day. He, um . . . he said he was busy."
Toby knew Sam- and Josh- well enough to know he was getting a very watered down version of the story. He glanced at his watch. "What time is your appointment?"
"Eleven," Sam replied.
Toby waited until he caught Sam's eyes. "Want some company?"
Sam gave him a surprised look tinged with gratitude. "You don't mind?"
"Wouldn't have offered if I did," Toby replied easily. "Besides, we can work on the administration goals draft together on the way."
Sam seemed to brighten at the thought. "Okay . . . great! I'll go get my notes."
Toby lifted his briefcase onto his desk as Sam retreated to his office, tossing his notes and several folders inside. By the time he had finished and moved to his door, Sam was ready to go.
As the two headed for the parking garage and the SUV that Elliot had called ahead to prepare, Toby noticed a marked improvement in Sam's disposition. The younger man practically bounced with renewed energy as they argued over phrases and cliches.
Their debate shifted from revised orders of topics to transition subjects to statistics to include or omit as they rode to the courthouse. Neither writer paid much attention to the trip, both jotting notes down as they spoke. It wasn't until Elliot opened the door in front of the courthouse that either man realized they had arrived.
Toby continued their discussion as they followed Elliot into the courthouse, absently trailing the agent through the halls until Elliot came to an abrupt halt and turned to face them.
"You guys might want to put a pin in it," he stated, a small smirk on his face. "We're here."
Sam startled at the announcement, glancing at his surroundings. A mild sense of anxiety settled over him, radiating out of wide blue eyes.
Elliot's smirk softened as he knocked on the door before them. At the call to enter, the rest of Sam's detail entered the room to secure it. With an encouraging nod from Toby, Sam followed them inside.
An older woman in a smart suit was standing before a large mahogany desk, smiling kindly at them. She extended a hand towards Sam, completely nonplussed at the team of Secret Service agents prowling around her office. "Sam? It's nice to meet you."
Sam shifted his briefcase to his left hand and accepted the handshake. "It's nice to meet you too, Judge Briarly. This is my friend, Toby Ziegler." He gestured to Toby. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice."
Judge Briarly shook Toby's hand and smiled brightly at him. "It's my pleasure," she told Sam. "Given the circumstances, I'm glad to be able to help you put this to rights." She indicated the chairs in front of her desk, inviting Sam and Toby to sit as she took her own chair. "Did you bring the forms?"
Sam set his briefcase on his lap and opened it, rustling through the papers inside and handing several over to Briarly.
Briarly accepted the papers, scanning each page carefully. She nodded at several points and signed her name on a few pages. "Well, everything looks to be in order. I'll have my clerk make you a copy to take home with you and file these right away. Congratulations, Mr. Hoynes."
Sam blinked in surprise. "That's it?"
Briarly's smile widened. "That's it."
"Were you expecting a confetti cannon or something?" Toby asked.
Sam huffed a laugh. "Not exactly. I guess . . . I didn't expect this to be so easy."
"Normally it isn't," Briarly told him. "But when you called the other day, I had my office push some of the initial paperwork through right away. We wanted to help give you back some pieces of your life that were taken from you."
The care and genuine kindness behind the words touched and humbled Sam. "Thank you," he said gratefully.
Briarly nodded and stood, bringing Sam and Toby to their feet as well. "Believe me, we were happy to do it. If you'll come with me, I'll get you those copies now."
It was a subdued and thoughtful Sam that rode back to the West Wing with Toby. Toby watched Sam as Sam started down at the copies of the papers that held his new name.
"Are you all right?" Toby asked.
Sam glanced at him, then turned back to the papers in his hands. "I thought it'd feel different."
"How does it feel?" Toby asked.
Sam considered his answer for a moment. "I feel the same," he finally said. "Like nothing has really changed."
Toby grunted. "Maybe that's because you're still you, no matter what name you go by."
Sam smiled softly down at his new name.
"You're still the same stubborn, idealistic writer who can't find a verb to save his life," Toby continued.
Sam's grin widened as he lifted his eyes to Toby's. "I'll have you know . . ."
Sam almost didn't hear the knock on his open door, his mind entirely focused on the final touches he was putting on the section of the administration goals speech he was working on. Expecting his increasingly impatient boss, he didn't bother to look away from his laptop screen. "I'm almost there, Toby; just need a few more sentences."
The voice that answered him did not belong to the Communications Director.
"I guess that answers my question if you were ready to go," stated Hoynes' amused tone.
Sam looked up in surprise, blinking at the vice president. "Dad?" he said, most of his brain still swimming in facts about internet security. "Go? Go where?"
Hoynes' smile turned fond. "Dinner. Remember? Mom was making lasagna tonight."
Sam glanced at his watch, his eyebrows climbing to his hairline. "I got so wrapped up in this speech, I completely lost track of the time. Can you give me five more minutes?"
"Of course." Hoynes slipped his hands in his pockets and moved towards the nearest bookshelf as Sam returned to his draft. A startled and delighted smile lit his face upon finding a small, candid shot of his three boys sitting on the top shelf. Hoynes wondered when the photo had been taken, and where; the background didn't provide many clues.
"And . . . done," Sam chirped behind him. Hoynes turned in time to see him close his laptop and stand. Sam pulled on his suit coat and his winter coat, then grabbed his briefcase. He paused briefly, his hand hovering over a set of folded papers before picking them up and nodding at Hoynes. "Ready."
Hoynes gestured for Sam to precede him, then fell in step alongside him. "How's the big speech coming along?"
Sam winced slightly. "Slower than we'd like," he replied honestly. "We're barely putting all the pieces together now, and a lot of it isn't quite ready to be drafted yet." He shook his head as they moved into the parking garage, surrounded by their security details. "With the amount of work and time going into it, I'm dreading when this is the official State of the Union address."
"So is that what you did all day today?" Hoynes asked. "You must have made some good headway then."
Sam's eyes caught Elliot's as Elliot opened the door to their SUV for them. Elliot quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Not . . . not exactly," Sam admitted, climbing into the car.
"Oh?" Hoynes said, sliding into the seat beside him.
Doors slammed as the SUV started up. Sam barely noticed as they drove out of the garage and into evening traffic, his eyes glued to the papers in his hand.
"Sam?" Hoynes prompted. "Are you okay?"
Sam nodded. "I, er . . . I went to the courthouse today." He held his papers out to Hoynes.
Frowning in confusion, Hoynes took the papers and slowly unfolded them. Blue eyes scanned the first few lines before his entire body went rigid in his seat.
The nerves from earlier that day reawoke in Sam's stomach. "I . . . I hope it's all right, the name I chose. I . . . maybe I should have asked first . . ."
Hoynes' eyes lifted to Sam, wide and suspiciously wet. Sam didn't have time to ask what was wrong before he was grabbed and pulled into a fierce hug.
"It's more than all right," Hoynes breathed into Sam's hair. Pulling back slightly, he pressed a palm to Sam's cheek. "Thank you."
Sam's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "For what?"
"For giving us a chance," Hoynes told him. "I know it hasn't been the easiest road for you, dealing with all of this. But I'm so grateful to have you back with us."
"I'm the one who should be thanking you," Sam replied, his cheeks tinged with pink. "You guys have been so patient with me through all of this. I know it wasn't exactly easy for you, either. And spending this time with you . . ." His eyes lowered. "I wish I'd gotten to grow up with you."
Hoynes pulled him back into a hug. "You're with us now," he said. "That's the important thing."
They pulled away at the same time, Hoynes passing back the papers. The rest of their trip home was spent with Hoynes teasing the story about the trip to the courthouse out of an obliging Sam. The two chatted lightly as the SUV pulled to a stop in front of Observatory Circle, Hoynes deftly maneuvering Sam to lead the way into the unusually darkened house.
Sam didn't notice the strange stillness as he led the way towards the faint light coming from the dining room, Hoynes right behind him with a slowly growing smile on his face.
"SURPRISE!"
Sam stumbled back at the sudden roar of sound, colliding into his father. Hoynes chuckled as he grabbed Sam's arms and steadied him. "Easy there."
Sam stared in shock at the decorations covering the walls, then at the smiling guests crowded in the dining room. "What . . . what's going on?"
Jamie bounded over to him, grinning brightly. "Happy birthday, Sam!"
Sam frowned. "But my birthday's not until next month!"
He felt his father's hands tighten briefly on his arms in surprise. "No, son," Hoynes rumbled softly behind him. "Your birthday- your real birthday- is February eighteenth. Today."
He released Sam's arms as Jamie tugged his younger brother over to greet his guests. The surprise never quite left Sam, but he managed to push it aside and say hello to friends and coworkers. His eyes slid over the faces of those gathered, looking for one in particular and not finding it.
Toby and CJ walked up to him, CJ giving him a hug. "This has got to qualify as the biggest surprise for a surprise party," she said lightly. "You really had no idea?"
"None," Sam confirmed. He glanced around. "Um . . . have you seen Josh?"
Something close to pity passed over CJ's face. "Yeah, about that . . . He wanted to be here tonight, but he had a meeting with Senator Clearwater that couldn't be rescheduled." Seeing the poorly disguised disappointment on Sam's face, CJ quickly added, "But maybe he'll stop by when he's done?"
Sam gave her a grateful smile. "Maybe," he agreed, though not quite believing it himself. His eyes found Bartlet on the other side of the room, and he excused himself to go and say hello.
As soon as Sam was out of earshot, Toby snorted. "'Maybe he'll stop by'?" he repeated.
"It could happen!" CJ exclaimed.
"And maybe Mary marsh will start supporting the rights of the LGBTQ community," Toby retorted.
"Hey!" CJ cried. "At least my comment wasn't completely unreasonable!"
"Given Josh's attitude of late, that's debatable," Toby said sourly.
Leo chose that moment to join them. "What could you two possibly be bickering about now?"
Toby fixed him with an unimpressed look. "Just how long are you going to let Josh continue to run around with his head up his ass?"
Leo sighed heavily. "I've tried talking to him. He's being a bit more stubborn than usual, and that's saying something."
"Is there nothing you can do?" CJ asked.
Leo shrugged helplessly. "This is something that Josh and Sam are going to have to work through themselves," he told them. "Short of locking them in a room together, we'll have to be patient. I wouldn't worry too much; before you know it, the two of them will be teaming up to antagonize you both again."
"I'd almost prefer that," Toby stated, glancing briefly over at Sam. "Sam could really use Josh's support right now."
Leo nodded, following his gaze. "I know."
On the other side of the room, Abbey Bartlet watched as Hoynes and Sam approached Suzanne. Sam handed a set of papers to Suzanne, who unfolded them and read them. Suzanne's hand flew to her mouth in a gasp, and she grabbed Sam to pull him into a tight hug.
Curious, Abbey approached. "What's going on?" she asked.
Beaming, Hoynes gently tugged the papers out of Suzanne's grip and passed them to Abbey. Abbey quickly read through the documents, a grin growing on her face.
"Samuel Charles Hoynes," she read aloud. She looked up. "Congratulations, Sam! This is great news!"
Sam withdrew from Suzanne's embrace to smile bashfully at Abbey. "Thanks," he said. "I have to give credit to Zoey, though. She's been really great to talk to since this all came about. She's a good sounding board."
Pride shone through Abbey's smile. "I'm glad she could help you. I know she's glad to have someone around she can talk to as well."
As if summoned by their discussion, Zoey appeared beside her mother. "Happy birthday, Sam!" she said, smiling. "How surprised were you?"
Sam laughed. "Very," he replied. "I thought my birthday was next month, on the seventeenth. It never occurred to me that it might not be."
His parents suddenly grew very still at his side. Sam turned puzzled eyes on them, wondering what was so upsetting about what he'd just said. "What?"
Suzanne smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nothing," she assured him. "Just . . . March 17th was the day you were taken from us."
Words escaped Sam at the statement. The thought of celebrating his abduction rather than his birth over the years began to fill his mind, tugging out every memory of past birthdays and repainting them with the truth.
"Well," Abbey stated, her forced cheerfulness breaking through Sam's encroaching fog of betrayal as effortlessly as sunshine, "it's a good thing we've got another thing straight. Sam, have you seen the cake? I swear, your mother must have some kind of double life in a bakery."
"It looks amazing!" Zoey enthused, picking up on her mother's intent at distraction. "Come on, you have to see it before Jake ruins it!"
"Tell Jake that he's doing all the dishes if he touches that cake before it's cut!" Suzanne ordered as Zoey took Sam's arm and dragged him away. "By hand!"
"That's never stopped him before," Hoynes murmured in amusement.
Abbey smiled at Suzanne's exasperation and handed back the papers she still held. "Are you going to frame these?" she asked.
Suzanne took the papers, smiling ruefully at them. "Would that be a bit too much?"
"Depends on how ostentatious the frame is." The two women laughed lightly. Seeing Hoynes' eyes drifting over to Sam, a small frown on his lips, Abbey continued. "Some unsolicited advice, John? Don't dwell on the Seaborns another minute. You have your son back; healthy, whole, and happier than I've ever seen him."
Hoynes shook off the dark cloud around him and gave Abbey a smile. "Of course," he said. "You're right."
A melodic tune suddenly began playing from his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he checked the screen and brightened. "It's my parents," he told them. "I'm going to head to the sitting room. Suz, can you send Sam in five minutes?"
Suzanne nodded, watching her husband answer the call as he wound his way around guests and out of the room.
Abbey reached out and gently squeezed Suzanne's arm. "Come on," she said lightly. "Zoey might be a sweetheart, but she'll actually help Jake steal some of that cake, and I'm fairly confident Sam won't stop her."
Suzanne laughed and walked with her friend towards their children, who were beginning to congregate around the confection.
"You didn't have to come with me, you know. I just need to grab that book for Zoey. I'll just be in and out."
The Secret Service-issued black SUV expertly navigated the streets of the DC suburbs on its way to Sam's apartment. Sam and Zoey had gotten to talking about Zoey's civics class and her upcoming paper on legal ramifications on constitutional amendments during the party, and Sam had only been too happy to share what he knew. To Zoey's delight, that included a resource to cite that Zoey had had some difficulty in tracking down.
"I know," Hoynes replied easily. "But it's only been a few days since the press conference, and the public response is still very strong where you're concerned. It'll make me feel better to keep an eye on you myself."
Sam tried to feel frustrated at the implication that he needed a babysitter, but it felt so nice to have someone worry about him that he couldn't quite manage it. "I still have my security detail, you know," he reminded his father. "And I'm pretty sure Elliot won't let anyone get within ten feet of me."
"While I have every confidence in Elliot and his team, I'm afraid it doesn't quite replace the reassurance of seeing you're all right with my own two eyes," Hoynes replied. "So . . . how did you like your party?"
Sam knew that arguing further would be futile, so he followed the shift in their conversation's direction. "It was great. Thank you for going through all that trouble; it was nice to celebrate with my friends and family together."
"It was no trouble," Hoynes replied. "Trouble would be reserving the Dallas Aquarium, then at the last possible minute switching the party over to the Dallas Zoo."
Sam was intrigued at the rather specific example. "Jamie?"
"Jake, actually," Hoynes replied, a small smile on his face. "Your mom gave me one job in helping her plan his seventh birthday party. Reserve the venue. Apparently I reserved the wrong one, but I still maintain that her instructions to me clearly stated aquarium, and not aquarium exhibit."
Sam laughed as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of his apartment building. He waited obediently for Elliot to open the door, finally having been trained out of the habit of just jumping out of the vehicle before his security detail could finish clearing the area. As Hoynes moved to follow, Sam waved him back.
"Really, I'll be in and out," he said. "There's no need for you to come with me."
Hoynes stilled. "You sure?"
Sam nodded. "I wouldn't even make Elliot come, but I don't think he'd go for that."
"And you'd be right," Elliot said as Sam slid out of the car. He nodded at Hoynes. "We'll be back in five, sir."
Hoynes returned the nod and settled back into his seat.
Sam turned and led Elliot into the quiet building, bypassing the elevator and heading up the stairs to his floor to save time. "You could stay back, you know," he called to Elliot over his shoulder. "I mean, I didn't see any reporters out there."
"Right," Elliot said sardonically. "Because it's only reporters we need to keep an eye out for."
"Elliot, it's after ten on a Wednesday night," Sam pointed out as they stepped onto his floor. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Elliot aimed a glare at the back of Sam's head. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."
Sam smirked as he neared the door to his apartment. Before he could retort, his arm was suddenly grabbed in a tight grip. He turned to demand the reason for such a sudden move, but the words died on his lips when he saw the fierce concentration on Elliot's face. His free hand was pressed to his ear, clearly being relayed something important.
"Agent Price with Princeton in Georgetown," Elliot stated. "Mustang is downstairs- yes, sir."
Sam's frown deepened. He tugged his arm out of Elliot's grip.
"Yes, sir." Elliot dropped his hand and focused on Sam. "Chris Winters was arraigned this afternoon. The judge held him for bail, which was posted."
Sam felt a chill ripple through him. "What does that mean for us?"
"Honestly, not all that much that we weren't already doing," Elliot replied. "We'll keep an eye out for him, but the restraining order is still in effect. If you hear from him, though, you'll need to tell me immediately."
Sam nodded, perfectly all right with that arrangement.
"Agent Butterfield wants some files that are in our post across the hall," Elliot continued. "We'll need to swing through once you grab your book."
"Or we could divide and conquer," Sam suggested.
"Sam-," Elliot began.
"Elliot, it'll be fine," Sam insisted. He pulled his keys out of his pocket. "The team didn't see any sign of danger downstairs, and Chris doesn't have keys to my place. I doubt he even knows where I live. Get your files. I'll meet you back here in five minutes."
Elliot was unhappy, but he couldn't argue with the logic. "Fine," he said. "Five minutes. Lock your door behind you. If you're not back in the hall in that time, I'm coming in after you."
"Through a locked door?" Sam asked.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Elliot replied. "Five minutes starts now."
Sam turned and unlocked his door, slipping into his apartment and closing the door behind him. He flicked on the lights and, after a brief hesitation, locked his door, but left his deadbolt unengaged.
The book he needed was on one of the bookshelves in his living room; Sam remembered that much. He headed that way, eyes scanning titles for the one he needed. Not finding it on the first shelf, Sam moved to the next bookshelf.
"It's about time you came home."
The unexpected voice sounded thunderous in the otherwise silent apartment. Sam's blood ran cold as he slowly turned around to find Winters emerging from his study. "U-Uncle Chris? What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"Your excitable little friend was most helpful," Winters replied, moving fully into the living room. "I told him I wanted to talk to you, and he gave me the key to your apartment. I figured we could finally talk now that we're alone."
Sam took a step back. "You have nothing to say that I want to hear," he stated with more bravado than he felt.
Winters' eyes seemed to glitter in the dim light. "I disagree. Your friends seem to have caused me a great deal of embarrassment."
Sam felt his temper flare. "You caused yourself embarrassment! You tried to grab me in public, in a crowded restaurant!"
Winters nodded. "You're right," he conceded. "But we're not in public now."
The ominous statement sent a fresh wave of unease through Sam, and he backed into the bookshelf behind him.
Winters shook his head, stepping closer. "I should have known you'd be nothing but trouble the moment my stupid sister brought you to me."
Sam froze. "What?"
"Chelsea was always prone to impulsiveness," Winters continued. "The day she brought you to my townhouse, I knew I should have just gotten rid of you then."
"You . . . you knew?" Sam breathed.
Winters scoffed. "Of course I knew; who do you think arranged for the paperwork proving you were Chelsea's? Never mind the fact that Chelsea is infertile; there was no way for her to become pregnant. And when the news broke of Hoynes' son having gone missing, it wasn't hard to put two and two together."
Sam couldn't get past his shock. "Wh-Why not give me back? Even anonymously?"
"And risk a major scandal?" Winters retorted. "Besides, Chelsea wouldn't hear of it. Foolish girl is actually convinced you're her son, despite never having given birth to you. Even now, facing prison, she's insisting this is all some big misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding?" Sam cried. "You took me from my family; from my life!"
Winters stepped forward, mere feet from Sam. "We gave you a good life, better than you deserved! You attended the best schools, had every advantage, and look at how you repaid me; a Secret Service investigation, public embarrassment of an arrest, and Hoynes throwing around allegations of abuse. All because of you."
Sam's eyes cut to the door to his apartment, wondering if Elliot had noticed the delay in his return.
Seeing where Sam's attention had gone, Winters deftly stepped into Sam's line of sight. "Don't even think about leaving before I've had my say."
"Why are you here?" Sam demanded.
"I told you the other day I wanted a word," Winters told him. "Given the circumstances since then, I'm afraid the offer I was going to make is no longer on the table."
"What offer?" Sam asked, uneasy.
"The one that would have cleared up this whole mess to both our benefits," Winters replied. "Unfortunately, Hoynes is now involved and currently generating a significant number of problems for me in the House. I can't have that."
Sam shook his head. "What are you saying?"
"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but I'm afraid I have no choice," Winters told him. "Hoynes' time as vice president, while brief, is now over. By the time I'm done with him, he'll never work in politics again. His reputation will be ruined, and that overzealous son of his will regret ever daring to lay a hand on me."
A sudden surge of panic drove Sam forward. "You can't do this!" he cried. "They were just trying to protect me!"
Winters' smile was as cold as his name. "And everyone will realize that and know it was all your fault. You could have prevented all of this."
"I won't let you do this," Sam vowed.
"And what do you think you could do about it?" Winters countered.
Sam cast his mind about, desperately searching his memory for anything he could use as leverage. "I'll . . . I'll tell the Secret Service everything I know," he said. "About the abuse, and about how you manipulated other congressmen. And I'll tell them about you knowing who I was all along."
"The word of a boy desperate to save his father carries little weight against the word of a respected congressman," Winters dismissed.
"Maybe," Sam agreed, his mind reaching farther back. "But they might be interested to know that you've done it before. And paid off people to help you from undisclosed overseas accounts. I seem to remember seeing some statements from when I worked out of your office, after Sanders." An inspired idea struck him. "How much do you want to bet they'll also find a paper trail leading from you to people you paid off to cover up my abduction?"
He'd clearly struck a nerve. Winters glared daggers at Sam, a red flush creeping up over his face. "You'll keep your mouth shut," he growled. "I made you disappear once; I can make it happen again. This time permanently."
A knock on the door interrupted them. "Sam?" Elliot's voice called from the other side.
Sam looked past Winters, opening his mouth to call back.
Winters darted forward in a sudden burst of energy. "You shut your mouth!" he barked, wrapping his hands around Sam's throat. His thumbs came down over the hollow of his throat and started to squeeze.
Sam clawed at the hands, surprised at Winters' attack. He could hear Elliot knocking again, shouting his name, but was helpless to answer.
Winters' eyes burned with hatred. ". . . nothing but trouble . . . finally rid of you . . ." His words became garbled amid the rushing in Sam's ears. Sam dropped to his knees, tugging at Winters' hands. Winters only tightened his grip, determined to silence Sam once and for all.
Spots began to appear in Sam's vision. Darkness ringed his apartment as the knocking on his door became pounding. He thought he heard wood splintering, and could have sworn he heard his father's voice, but gave up the thought as wishful thinking on his part.
Just as he felt himself begin to slip away, the pressure around his throat vanished. Sam fell forward into a pair of arms, coughing and gasping as air rushed back into his lungs. Tears streamed from his eyes unchecked, some from the return of oxygen and some from the sheer relief at having been rescued.
The arms around him became hands gently pulling him upright. Still coughing, Sam's wet eyes met the terrified face of his father.
"Dad," Sam tried to say. The word didn't quite make it past his throat, his lungs greedily keeping all of the air. He looked past Hoynes and saw Elliot effortlessly pinning a protesting Winters face down on the floor, barking into the mic on his wrist.
"Sam?" The way Hoynes said his name told Sam it hadn't been the first time. "Sam, look at me. Can you speak? Say something!"
Sam turned back to Hoynes. He tried to force another word out of his abused throat, but little more than a squeak came out.
"I'll have your job for this!' came Winters' outraged howl. "All of you! You hear me? You're finished here!"
Hoynes' eyes dropped to Sam's throat. Sam watched in shock and awe as the terror on his father's face rapidly gave way to a murderous rage the like Sam had never seen. He kept his eyes on Hoynes as the older man suddenly stood, stalked over to Elliot, and shoved him aside. Dropping to his knees, he flipped Winters onto his back and punched him solidly in the face.
"You son of a bitch!" Hoynes shouted, raining one punch after the other down on the man. "Threaten my son?"
Elliot recovered quickly, putting a restraining hand on Hoynes' arm. "Sir, stop!"
Hoynes shook him off, not even registering Elliot's presence. Sam tried to call out to his father, but still no sound came out.
"Sir!" Elliot folded himself over Hoynes' back, wrapping his arms under and over Hoynes' shoulders and pulling him upright. "Sam needs you right now! He needs medical attention!"
Hoynes continued to strain against Elliot's grip, wanting nothing more than to end the man who had tried to kill his son. "Let me go! This son of a bitch deserves to-!"
Elliot roughly shook Hoynes. "John!"
The unfamiliar address gave Hoynes pause. Awareness of his surroundings began to creep back into his consciousness.
"Sir, Sam needs you," Elliot said, his tone calmer now that Hoynes was listening. "He needs his father. I'll take care of Winters. You need to get Sam to the hospital."
Hoynes eased in Elliot's hold, nodding slightly. Cautiously, Elliot released him, but Hoynes' impulsive rage had passed. The vice president stood and turned to Sam, walking back to him.
As soon as Hoynes was near enough, Sam stumbled to his feet and flung himself into his father's arms. Hoynes caught him easily, his hug no less tighter than Sam's.
"Come on," Hoynes told him quietly. "Let's get you taken care of."
Sam turned his head, unable to avoid looking at Winters' battered and bloody face.
Elliot flipped Winters' unconscious form onto his side and into a recovery position. Seeing Sam's attention, he said, "He's done, Sam. You don't need to worry about him anymore. Go with your dad to the hospital. I'll see you there."
Still wrapped around each other, Hoynes ushered Sam quickly out of the apartment.
end chapter 11
A/N: Just a quick note for this chapter- according to West Wing Wiki, Hoynes attended SMU in Dallas. Their mascot is the Mustang. I decided to use that for Hoynes' Secret Service name. FYI.