Title: Stay Anyway
Author: Amber (Ambino1111@prodigy.net)
Spoilers: So far, it's ITSOTG, and minor ones for Stackhouse Filibuster,
Celestial Navigation, and any episodes with Mandy, Joey, Laurie, and Ainsley
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing and brief adultlike situations
Category: Romantic Dramedy
Pairing: Sam/Ainsley, Josh/Donna, Sam/Lisa?
Disclaimer: Okay, I don't own the West Wing characters, but, I did create
the personality and history for Lisa Prescott, Alexander Prescott, security
guard Dave, and the other characters you don't recognize. Please ask before
borrowing so I can pack them a sack lunch. Also, I don't own any of the
songs I mention - they belong to their respective bands.
Feedback: Yes, please at Ambino1111@prodigy.net.
Summary: "You could give me a hundred good reasons to leave, and I can't
give you one good reason to stay... stay anyway." - Benjamin "Hawkeye"
Pierce, M*A*S*H
Author's Notes: This is, by far, the most ambitious fanfic I've ever
written. I swore that I wouldn't start posting until I was 100% done with
it, but... well, it's my 18th birthday and I felt like it. :-) Here's my
plan - I will be posting a new part every week (which will hopefully give me
enough time to finish it). If I slack off in this plan, feel free to email
me threatening letters. Maybe that'll kick my butt into gear.
Special thanks go to Kira Starr, friend and wingnut extraordinaire, who has
been reading this story despite her initial cry of "Sam and Lisa! NO! I'm
not going to read that!" I had to assure her that it would all be fine in
the end, and add some Josh and Donna bits (which I was going to do anyway)
to keep her happy. ;-)
Title: Stay Anyway 1/?
Author: Amber Ambino1111@prodigy.net
Oh, life is good.
Life is very, very good. And, believe it or not, I'm talking about _my_
life.
Right now, Josh and I are working our butts off on the latest Health Care
Package, an amendment to H.R. 206. It deals with increased spending in many
medical fields, specifically dental, nursing home care, and emergency
procedures. As Josh says, it's a fight worth fighting, and we're currently
giving it everything we've got. Case in point - it's four oh seven, and I'm
just heading out to get some lunch.
The White House has been considerably calmer this week, but by no means is
it peaceful. The President, CJ, Toby, and Charlie are in China until Monday
evening. Josh and I were "not needed", and so were handed a heaping mound of
files to sift through before our meetings on the Hill next week. The bill is
going up for a vote in three weeks, and because of our recent overwhelming
schedules with the grand juries and such, the poor amendment has been rather
neglected. Now, with the tempestuous times behind us and Jed Bartlet secure
as President, H.R. 206 is getting the attention it rightly deserves.
And, if I may say so myself, Josh and I are ready to kick some Republican
butt on the subject.
Speaking of Republican butts, which, now that I think about it, probably
isn't the best segue, wait - what was I going to say? Oh yeah, speaking of
Republicans and their posteriors, Josh and I have been talking quite a lot
lately, and he's persuaded me to ask Ainsley Hayes out. On a date. As in a
"real" date. The dinner we accidentally shared in the mess last week, which
ended with both of us arguing over the last slice of apple pie, hardly
counts for anything.
In fact, after lunch, I'm going to march down to the Steam Pipe Trunk
Distribution Venue and ask her out to dinner. Yes. Let it be known that I,
Samuel Norman Seaborn, am a risk-taker, one who will surely be beheaded by
CJ come Monday, but also one who doesn't care about it. At least, not yet -
it's only Friday.
So, as I was saying earlier, life is good. So good, in fact, that I should
have seen this coming. Really, despite all my cunning and guile, I need to
be more aware of my surroundings.
Maybe I should explain things a bit. Okay, so I'm going out to have a quick
lunch in the surprisingly sunny city, taking a stroll around Pennsylvania
Avenue as I feast on a hot dog and a can of root beer. I'm enjoying the
slight exercise after having spent the last six hours sitting in a chair in
Josh's perennially dark office, so I decide to take the long way back. On my
way inside I happen to pass a tour group, and that's when it happens.
Flush! The good life has disappeared down the toilet.
It can't be her, the rational part of my brain insists. It _cannot_ be her.
Maybe...
Nah, it's not. It couldn't be. I must be seeing things. There is no way on
this planet that she is standing there right now. Life doesn't work life
that.
Oh, but that woman could pass as her twin. Her hair's a little shorter, but
she's the same height and - Oh my God. It's really her. It's really, truly,
actually her.
Without realizing it, I am backing around the corner. To the untrained eye
it may appear almost as if I am hiding, but Samuel Norman Seaborn is a
risk-taker, not a hider. I am merely appreciating the aesthetic beauty of
the semi-glossy white paint on the pillar in front of me.
I peek around the aforementioned pillar, searching the tour group for her
face. It's been, what... almost three years since I've last seen her, and
even from across the room I can tell Lisa Prescott has changed. Well,
perhaps not changed so much as... matured.
I spot her familiar head of curly brown hair and receive my second shock of
the day - she's holding a baby.
I feel a sudden jolt in my heart. It's odd, but my body has forgotten how to
breathe. I haven't felt this bitter sting of pain since Mallory dumped me
for that hockey player.
So... Lisa's married. Why should I care? Why _do_ I care? What we had was in
the past, and there it shall remain.
Besides, I have to get back to work. That bill won't pass by itself.
I shake my head at the corniness of that thought, and make the decision to
leave. I suddenly realize with horror that my legs, moving of their own
accord, are propelling me in the opposite direction. I'm moving towards her!
My head screams "Run away!", and my heart just about quits its day job.
But my legs have started a mutiny, one my mouth seems eager to join.
I'm standing next to my ex-fiancee, jovially announcing "Hello" as I ponder
the presence of a voodoo doll in the White House. It's a possibility, right?
At least she looks as surprised as I am. She pales, and I fear momentarily
that she is going to pass out, but she shakes her head slightly, chokes out
"Sam", and offers me her free hand.
I awkwardly shake it, noting the absence of a wedding ring on her left ring
finger.
"How've you been?" I inquire, trying to get a glimpse of the baby's face. I
glance back at her, noticing the hesitant smile that doesn't quite reach her
eyes.
"Oh, me? I've - I've been... just great. Excellent. How've you been?"
The toddler in her arms is facing the other way, gulping milk out of a
bottle, and has little interest in me. I straighten my suit coat and brush
imaginary lint off my tie.
"I'm great, too. It was a little shaky for a while, but the hearings are
over, and well... I'm living my dream." I put more enthusiasm into my
response than is warranted. It's somehow essential that she knows that this
- The White House - this is my dream, and nothing, no one, else.
"I'm glad," She pauses, looking down at her feet. "I've been following your
career. I'm very proud of you, you know." She looks up when she says this,
and I feel a shiver of something course through my body. Her green eyes are
so sincere, and she smiles slightly, revealing her ever-white teeth. "A call
girl, though? I mean, really, Sam."
Before I know it I'm laughing. She instantly looks more at ease, but doesn't
join me.
"I'm never going to live down that one," I admit, marveling at how she can
simultaneously look so familiar and so unknown.
"How is the President?" She asks, staring down the hall as her group
continues its tour.
I follow her gaze. "Oh, he's fine. We're all thrilled with the outcome of
the hearings, and things are returning to business as usual around here."
She nods, shifting the baby, her purse, and the large diaper bag to her
other shoulder. "That's great. I thought - well, I'm happy everything worked
out."
We slip into an uncomfortable silence, both of us unsure of what to say.
"I thought you were in China," She declares finally, a slightly accusing
tone apparent in her voice.
"Originally I was going to go, but Josh and I had some extra work to do."
She nods, satisfied with my vague answer. "How is Josh? I was praying for
him after Rosslyn."
"He's doing much better now. He's back to his normal, loud, egotistical
self," I report with a grin. Lisa almost smiles back.
"Listen, Sam. I wouldn't have come if I thought you were here."
Her voice and her face are so apologetic that it surprises me. I reach out
and put a friendly hand on her arm. "Why would you not want to come here?" I
inquire softly. There's an eerie sense of deja vu, and I already know her
answer. A part of me is still hoping it's not what I think.
"Please, Sam. Let's not go there right now."
I back off, moving the hand that was formerly on her shoulder into my pants
pocket. "It's water under the bridge. Really. There's nothing to fight
about," The words are spoken with so much conviction that I almost believe
them myself.
She looks visibly relieved, but still very reserved. Not at all like the
Lisa I used to know.
"So, what are you doing in DC?" I cross my arms and watch as Lisa deftly
bends to retrieve a stuffed bear from the floor. She hands it to the kid and
answers without looking at me.
"It's my father - Edward. He's... he's not doing too well and I'm placing
him in an institution."
"An institution?" My voice is freakishly high. I clear my throat. "Why would
he need an institution?"
"He has Alzheimer's, Sam. You knew that."
I cringe at the hurt tone in her voice - I _did_ know that, and after that
terrible night I never should have forgotten it.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry... How is he doing?"
Lisa's exasperation is unmistakable. "How do you _think_ he's doing, Sam?
I'm putting him in an institution," Her sarcasm does little to hide the
sadness in her voice.
"Um. So, how's your mother taking this?"
Open mouth, insert foot. I know as soon as I say the words that I shouldn't
have. I wish desperately that I could take them back.
Lisa's eyes have clouded over, and even the baby starts whimpering. I'm such
an idiot. I should have known - when we separated, Rose wasn't in the best
of health. Why did I have to ask her?
"Mom died a few weeks after you left," She informs me softly, bouncing the
baby a little to quiet him.
"I'm so sorry. Why didn't you call me?"
She looks at me, incredulous. "Are you kidding me, Sam? My father was sick,
my mother had just died, and I found - I was supposed to call my ex-fiancee
in the midst of all this?"
I can be a real jerk sometimes.
"I can be a real jerk sometimes," I tell her apologetically. She sniffs a
little and faintly smiles up at me.
"That's nothing new," The twinkle in her eyes reveals itself briefly, then
disappears again. Lisa checks her watch, a feat made more complicated by the
wiggling baby in her arms.
"I should go catch up with my tour group," She says, gesturing towards the
emptying hallway. "It was... nice seeing you."
She starts to walk off before I can process what's happening. I hurry to her
side, gently grabbing her arm. "Wait!"
She looks up at me expectantly. Even the baby swivels around to examine me,
his big turquoise eyes searching my face.
"Areyoubusytonight?" I chuckle nervously after my words come out in a big
jumble. "I mean, if you're not - you know, busy tonight... would you like to
go out to dinner? To catch up on things?"
"I - well, I actually _am_ busy tonight. I have to get Dad settled in, and
there's a lot of paperwork I have to sign."
I can actually feel my face fall, and I try to hide it by bending to tie my
already-tied shoe. "Oh, well then, that's all right. It was just a thought."
"I'm free tomorrow night."
"That's also good," I stand up in a flash, smiling happily, and this time
I'm rewarded with one in return. "What time is good for you?" Internally I
berate myself for being unable to come up with a synonym for "good." For God
sakes, I'm a speech writer!
It doesn't seem to bother Lisa. She shifts the baby again and he leans up
against her shoulder, face turned towards me.
"Oh, anytime, really. Whenever you get off of work is fine."
I nod, and the baby smiles at me. I mirror the smile, then look at Lisa.
"What's his name?"
"Alexander."
"Alexander what?" I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
She looks slightly embarrassed. "Alexander Norman Prescott. He's two years
old and very tired. We've been sight-seeing all day."
I recognize her diversionary tactic, but I cannot be deterred.
"Alexander Norman? You named him after me?"
"Oh, don't be so flattered. I have an uncle named Norman." I don't think she
does, but I'm not going to bother with that right now.
"So... who's the father?" I try to sound as casual as possible, but I know
from experience that I can't fool her.
She avoids my gaze. "He didn't stick around. He doesn't know. It was sort of
a... fling - I mean, I certainly didn't expect him to stay."
I nod, believing her story but wondering what she left out. Lisa was not the
type for one night stands, unless...
I'm no math wizard, but if Alex is two years old... factoring in the nine
months... he was conceived roughly a few months after Lisa and I split. Oh
God. I upset her so much that she went out and got pregnant. What if, deep
down, she hates me for it? What if she's only having dinner with me so that
she can beat me to death in a public place? What if -
Wait. That's not Lisa.
If she were going to beat me, it'd be in a more private place. And I'd
deserve it.
"You okay, Sam?" She asks. I snap out of my thoughts and realize I haven't
said anything in a few minutes.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking - yeah, I gotta get back to Josh.
I'll see you tomorrow, though? Why don't you come here around eight -
hopefully I'll be done by then."
"Okay," She agrees, adjusting her grip on the yawning toddler. "I just show
up here?"
"Yeah, I'll tell them you're coming."
She nods, looking slightly enthusiastic, and turns again to go catch up with
her tour group. I sigh and start walking to Josh's office, asking myself
what in the world just happened.
***
"-number of nursing home residents is projected to increase by nearly half a
million people by 2010, which means that there will be greater emphasis on
- Sam? Sam? Are you even paying attention?"
I look up from the notes I am studying and tiredly rub my sore eyes. "No."
"Thank you for your honesty," Josh quips sarcastically, running a hand
through his wild hair. "At least I wasn't wasting time and, you know,
energy."
Now I feel slightly guilty. "Sorry," I mumble sincerely. I close the file
folder and toss it on the larger of the two piles next to Josh's desk.
Unfortunately I have bad aim, and it hits the side, causing about fifty
files to slide off the top. "Sorry again."
Without moving his body, Josh's eyes study the floor, now littered with a
motley collection of folders and papers, and he sighs loudly.
"'Housekeeper', my ass, Sam."
I find the energy to grin from my spot on Josh's couch. I'm laying on my
back, which, I've discovered, isn't the best position to lie in if you're
trying to stay awake on very little sleep.
Josh takes a deep breath before bellowing "DONNA!"
The ragged-looking assistant appears in the doorway moments later,
suppressing a yawn. "What is it now, Josh?"
He motions towards the stack with his head, to which she replies by putting
her hands on her hips and shaking her blonde hair.
"No. No, Joshua! I just organized those stupid things. I am _not_ about to
do it again, at two in the morning no less."
I watch their argument from my vantage point on the couch, mesmerized. They
really do bicker like an old married couple. I've mentioned this to Josh
several times, but he always changes the subject and I easily forget to
change it back, as most of those types of discussions take place in the
presence of alcohol.
Donna shrugs in defeat, leaving me wondering what just transpired. Perhaps
if I hadn't zoned out for a minute -
"Sam?"
"Yeah?" I answer, feeling exhausted from the effort of responding.
"All right, I give up. What the hell is up with you today?"
"Huh?" I look over at Josh, who is now standing across the room, stamping
his foot on the floor repeatedly. From her spot on the floor, Donna is
snickering quietly while she restacks the folders. My eyes narrow at my best
friend. "Just _what_ are you doing?"
Josh shakes his head with a groan. "My foot fell asleep. Pay attention, will
you?"
I nod, turning on my side in order to face him.
"What happened at lunch today?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, I don't know," Josh's sarcasm rears its ugly head. "This morning and
afternoon you were fine, you were working, you were attentive. But ever
since you left for lunch you've been in a different world."
"Maybe he's dreaming about life outside the west wing," Donna suggests. Josh
stops kicking the floor long enough to glare at her.
"I met Lisa in the lobby."
"Lisa? Lisa who?" Josh asks, his eyebrows furrow funnily as his mind sorts
through all the Lisas we know.
"Lisa Prescott."
Josh's eyes grow wide and his jaw drops open. He halts his stomping with his
foot midway in the air, and if I had the energy I would laugh at him.
"Lisa?" he croaks in amazement.
Now I've caught Donna's attention, too. She's stopped stacking the folders
and is listening without appearing to be. With a groan I sit up and remove
my glasses, cleaning them on my wrinkled white shirt.
Josh is nearly going berserk at my silence. "C'mon, Sam," he pleads,
dropping into his chair. "Spill."
"Oh, there isn't much to tell," I say nonchalantly. Josh fixes his Master
Politician stare on me, and I momentarily take pity on him.
"Sam," He warns.
"Well, she got a haircut."
Josh lets out a snort. He wiggles his index finger in my direction. "You
were engaged to this woman, you haven't seen her in years, and all you can
say is 'she got a haircut'?"
"Well, she did," I defend, looking down at my hands briefly. "That, and a
baby."
Had Josh been drinking something, he would have spit it out. Even Donna, who
I had all but forgotten about, turns to look at me in surprise. She had
heard stories during the campaign.
When I turn back to Josh, he just shakes his head. After a second, Donna
turns back to her work and pretends to ignore me again. I stop paying
attention to both of them, however, as I run my hand through my hair and
sigh. Seeing Lisa today was like a smack in the head, and I am still
reeling.
"Is she married?" Josh inquires gently. "Did you meet her husband?"
"No," I answer quietly. I'm staring at his desk, but not really seeing it,
focusing instead on the memories of my relationship with Lisa as they
suddenly flood my mind.
I've never really let myself think about how much I miss her.
"No what? No she's not married, or no you didn't meet her husband?"
"She's not married," I say, snapping back into the present. "She had a fling
with a guy and never told him about the kid."
"Is the kid a boy or girl?" Josh asks, absorbing the information as quickly
as I give it. I wonder why it seems important to him - he and Lisa got off
on the wrong foot many years ago.
"Boy. He's two years old and his name is Alexander."
"Was it awkward?"
"Yeah. And I'm having dinner with her tomorrow."
Josh nods, apparently not surprised. He picks up a pencil from his desk and
starts twirling it with his fingers, then stares at the carpet a bit. I lay
back down and lapse into a state of waking sleep.
My eyes jerk open. It seems like it's only been minutes, but my watch says
differently. Josh is now thoroughly engrossed in a file and Donna has left.
The office is silent, save for Josh's page turning and our breathing.
"Let's go home," I mumble as I struggle into a sitting position. Josh jumps
in surprise at my voice, then rubs his eyes. He nods in agreement, tossing
the file on top of his desk as he stands.
"I didn't have the heart to wake you," He whispers apologetically. I yawn as
I grab my suit coat and follow him into the dark and lifeless bullpen.
"It's okay," I tell him after I've stored up enough energy to speak. "I just
haven't been sleeping much lately."
Josh doesn't say anything, but I see in his eyes that he understands. The
past few months of dealing with the MS backlash while trying to run the
country has been taking a toll on everyone, and this latest craze over H.R.
206 hasn't been helping with the recuperation either.
"'Night, Dave," Josh calls to one of the guards as we exit the White House.
"See you in a few hours, Mr. Lyman," Dave replies with a sympathetic smile.
I breathe in sharply as the cold night air hits my skin, and Josh looks at
me as we plod down the endless number of stairs. He is wearing a jacket, I
am not. A true Californian at heart, I never expect July to be so chilly.
There is no one on the street at three in the morning; no one that wants to
be there, anyway. I'm sure if the drug dealers, late-night prostitutes, and
homeless folk were offered a comfortable bed and a decent meal, no one would
be roaming the streets of DC at such an ungodly hour.
We should offer them a comfortable bed and a decent meal.
Josh and I haven't uttered a word since we left work, and I'm glad we're
good enough friends that we don't have to. I'm too tired and frozen to focus
on a conversation anyhow.
It isn't a long walk to Josh's, and I find myself envying him as we part. I
live three more blocks away, which may as well be in Chicago.
"Bye, Sam. Try to get some sleep," Josh calls over his shoulder as he walks
toward his building. He knows I won't, but I appreciate the sentiment
anyway. I sigh and continue my long trek to my apartment.
TBC