Title: Stay Anyway 2/?

Author: Amber (Ambino1111@prodigy.net)

Disclaimers and other notes found in Prologue

Previously, in Stay Anyway…

… 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.

… 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.

… he's persuaded me to ask Ainsley Hayes out. On a date. As in a

"real" date.

… 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."

… "Yeah. And I'm having dinner with her tomorrow."

*****

Where were you when I was burned and broken

While the days slipped by my window watching

Where were you when I was hurt and I was helpless

Because the things you say and the things you do surround me

While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words

Dying to believe in what you heard

I was staring straight into the shining sun

-Coming Back to Life, Pink Floyd

*****

Life sucks.

Yep, that's right. My life sucks.

Why, after all I've been through in the past three years, why oh why did I have to run into Sam Seaborn today?

I suppose I should have seen it coming. I'm putting my father in an institution in his hometown of Washington DC, and a meeting with my former fiancee, who just so happens to work in the White House, was inevitable.

I just didn't expect it to happen today. It was supposed to be safe - Sam was in China. I figured that while Dad was meeting his new care givers, I would show Alex around town. After all, we'll be moving here it two weeks. I should know by now that nothing is ever easy for me.

I can remember Sam leaving as if it were yesterday, yet... it's been over three years and, at times, seems decades longer. Maybe it's because a lot has happened since then. I'm not the person I used to be - I've buried one parent, essentially lost the other, and I've had a child of my own. If that's not enough to change a person's life, I don't know what is.

The freakiest part about this whole situation is that, after months of not even thinking about Sam, I had a dream about him the night before we arrived in DC. The dream was weird, as mine usually are, and if I remembered anything from Psychology 101 I could analyze it to see just how insane I really am. Anyway, the dream. So yeah, I'm in this bizarre circular court house, and my mother is in the judge's seat. I'm being charged with something - they never tell me what - and all my friends and family are paraded up to the witness stand to testify against me. My father tells me I'm despicable and selfish, my best friend Shirley declares that I'm thoughtless and irresponsible, and even Alexander accuses me of carelessness and incompetence. I'm already in tears when the last witness is sworn in; it's Samuel Seaborn. His angry words hurt the most. I wish I could forget all the terrible things he called me, all the wrongs he blamed on me, but it's been imprinted on my soul.

I woke up in tears, and when I saw Sam later that day, everything he told me in the dream came rushing back, loud and clear. That, combined with the genuine shock of seeing him, made it hard not to cry.

Somehow, over twenty-four hours later, I still want to cry.

I'm not sure what we're going to say tonight. He'll ask about the past three years, and although it's too painful to talk about, I'll fill him in on the details. I'll explain how I cared for both Mom and Dad after her stroke, I'll tell him about speech therapy and seizures and blank stares. I'll attempt to describe the sad look my father would give my mother every morning, knowing full well that she was gone and he was slipping away, too. I could discuss how I had to make funeral arrangements during my morning sickness. Maybe I'll inform him of all the nights I cried for hours, unable to sleep, all the nights I picked up the phone, determined to call him on his cell phone, only to lose my nerve at the last minute. While I'm at it, I might as well tell him about the painful decision of leaving the father's name off of the birth certificate, the guilt of raising my son without a dad he deserves.

It wasn't _all_ that bad, though. I'll tell him that, too, because there were times when it truly wasn't. The few days when Dad acted normal, the quiet nights when Alex and I would curl up in bed and watch news of the campaign, and, later, the administration, on CNN. Sometimes the three of us would go on walks (Alex in his stroller, of course, and before Dad required a wheelchair) and everything appeared calm and... normal.

Then we would return to laundry, bills, dishes, dirty diapers, doctor appointments, and prescription refills, and the spell would be broken.

I could tell Sam all that, everything I've been through in the past three years, but I don't think I will. His life, his career, is going so well; I don't want to make him feel sorry for me, make him want to help somehow. It's not his fault.

I look down at Alex, who, after a two-hour bout of screaming, is sound asleep in his stroller. If only I could join him...

Really, it's not going to be that bad. At least, that's what I've spent the last five hours telling myself as I fretted over whether I should go, and then what I should wear. It may be a little awkward, especially with Alex, but we'll get over it and that will be that.

A security guard is currently guiding me to Sam's office. Normally, strollers aren't allowed in the White House, but this guy - Dave - is very nice. He informed me he has two kids of his own, and compassionately didn't make me abandon the stroller.

I try to take in the sights as I follow him through the network of hallways leading to our destination. I hadn't really paid attention to anything during my tour yesterday, but my mind isn't very focused now, either. I'll have to ask Sam about the White House and its history later tonight.

"So, how do you know Mr. Seaborn?" Dave asks as we round yet another corner. I sidestep a jogging intern before answering his question.

"Oh, I met him at the dentist," I reply. Dave nods at my casual response before coming to a stop in front of an office.

"This is Sam's office," He says, nodding his head towards the room to our left. "But Mr. Seaborn isn't there right now." With a slight wave of the hand he catches the attention of a smartly-dressed woman walking past. "Bonnie-"

The woman named Bonnie snatches up a ringing telephone, says "hello", then puts her hand over the receiver. "He's with Josh in the Roosevelt Room."

Dave thanks her as Bonnie continues with her phone call. He motions for me to follow him again. "Sorry about that, ma'am. The Roosevelt Room is right over here."

We stop in front of a closed door, and a blonde woman appears at our side. "Is there anything I can help you with?" She inquires cheerfully, looking at Dave. He nods and turns slightly to point at Alex and me.

"Yes, ma'am, Ms. Moss. This is Lisa Prescott. She's here for dinner with Mr. Seaborn."

Ms. Moss smiles at Dave before sizing me up. "Dave, I've told you a thousand times to call me Donna," She admonishes playfully. Dave shakes his head, smiling back.

"No can do, ma'am."

Donna glances over at me, appearing friendly. "Well, at least I tried. Someday I will wear you down, Dave. In the meantime, I'll make sure Sam knows she's here. He'll just be a few more minutes with Josh."

With a smile and a wave, Dave is on his way back to his post. "Thank you," I call after him.

Donna disappears for a moment, then returns with two chairs dragging behind her. She places them against the wall and motions for me to sit.

"If you could wait here for just a minute, I'll go inform Sam that you're here." She departs with a smile, and I primly sit down in the chair. This morning I was cleaning dirty diapers, and now I'm sitting on White House property. Perhaps the day won't be all that bad.

I nervously tug at my skirt and check on Alex. Thankfully he is still sleeping, but I realize with a groan that since he's napping now I'll be up late with him tonight.

"Ms. Prescott?"

"Please, call me Lisa."

"Okay then. Lisa, it will be a few minutes. Do you mind if I stay here and keep you company?"

I didn't really think it was a question- more of a statement- but she presented it nicely enough. I nod and she takes a seat in the chair next to me.

"Is that your son?" Her head is turned towards the stroller, but I can hear the envious longing hidden in her voice.

"Yeah, that's my Alex. He's two."

Donna nods, watching him sleep for a second. For some reason I get the feeling she already knew all that, but I don't really care.

She shifts in her seat suddenly and thrusts a manicured hand in my direction. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Donnatella Moss, Josh Lyman's assistant."

I chortle in amused sympathy, which causes Donna to grin. "I somehow doubt Josh's personality has changed much in three years." I pause. "You're a very brave woman."

She laughs and turns her eyes towards Alex. "Thank you. I enjoy my job, although I sometimes wish Josh would take a nap like him."

We share a chuckle before Donna starts to stand. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water? We might have some tea around here, but I can't guarantee it."

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Those two could be awhile - they're having a "discussion"," Donna warns, using her fingers to give the word "discussion" quotation marks.

I tilt my head and look up at her thoughtfully. "In that case, I'll take a coffee. Black."

"Now you're the brave one," Donna jokes, heading off across the room to a small food-and-drink kiosk.

I can tell I'm going to like this woman.

She has a great sense of humor with some spirit to boot and isn't afraid to be around the boys. Plus, she voluntarily works for Josh Lyman everyday. She deserves a medal, or at least a CAT Scan.

When Donna comes back we spend the next twenty or so minutes talking. She's very passionate about her job and the people she works with, and has nothing but respect for Sam. That, and embarrassing stories.

"They actually asked you to bring them leaves?" I choke, wiping a tear from my eye. "Oh, that's classic."

"It gets better," She gushes, leaning forward conspiratorously. "The flue had been sealed shut, and the fire alarms went off."

Donna and I launch into another fit of giggles. Gratefully Alex is still asleep.

We calm down moments later, and Donna checks her watch.

"I don't know what's keeping Sam," She says apologetically. "Let me go pry the pen from his hand."

"Okay," I agree, sipping the last of the awful-tasting coffee. Donna informed me earlier that it's an acquired taste.

As the door closes behind her I'm reminded of my surroundings. Surprisingly the hallways aren't as bustling as I'd imagined, but I remember then that President Bartlet is in China.

I'd been enjoying Donna's company so much that I'd almost forgotten about my date with Sam. Almost.

The door opens again and I sigh. Gathering my courage I stand, ready to face my ex-fiancee.

TBC