Ira Furor Brevis Est by Ecri
See part one for disclaimer.
Air Force One
Several Days Later
Toby looked through his papers detailing the President's itinerary for their visit to Los Angeles. His anxiety about this ploy had increased since the take off from Oregon. He hated trusting that things would go well. Too often things did not go well. Not that he didn't trust Sam to have done this right. He did. Still, when Sam sat down next to him, he had to ask. "You're still angry, right?"
Sam nodded. "Yes, I am. Why do you keep asking me that?"
"Angergives you an edgeit keeps you on your toes. But"
"But what?"
"There's a fine line between that edge and vindictiveness. I don't want to see you cross it." Toby looked away suddenly uncomfortable.
Sam laughed.
"What's funny?
"You." He switched to a deep, menacing, yet mocking tone. "Beware the Dark Side"
"I didn't say that!"
"You implied it, Toby-wan."
"I'm just saying keep your head in the game!"
"Yes, Master."
"Cut that out!"
Sam laughed at Toby's discomfort. It was the most wonderful sound Toby had heard in months.
**
Los Angeles
The President's motorcade came to a stop in front of The New Otani Hotel. As the Secret Service fanned out to secure the area, President Bartlet emerged. He walked with his Chief of Staff, but he scanned the crowd for someone else. "Where's Sam?" He asked his longtime friend.
Before Leo McGarry could answer, Sam Seaborn appeared as if out of nowhere. "Here, sir."
"Is he here?"
Sam nodded. "He should finish his speech in a few minutes. The reporters will likely be waiting in the corridor to talk to him as he leaves the ballroom. We should arrive in the corridor just after he does."
Bartlet nodded, casting an eye around the lobby to locate the rest of the staff. Toby stood a few feet away alternately checking his watch and peering down the hall towards what Bartlet assumed was the ballroom in question. CJ stood amidst the White House Press Corp maintaining the fiction that Ritchie and Bartlet being in the same place at the same time was an unavoidable coincidence. He wondered if any of them believed that.
Sam excused himself and moved to join Toby.
Bartlet watched the two together. He knew this had taken a lot of orchestration and Sam had taken on most of it himself. Bartlet could read barely a trace of the anxiety and anticipation he knew Sam must be feeling, but he also saw how quickly even these slight vestiges disappeared from Sam's face, carriage, and mannerisms when he approached CJ and the Press Corps. Sam was the epitome of professionalism. He seemed to be hitting the mark more precisely, more accurately than ever before.
Bartlet could hear Ritchie's voice around the corner as he approached the intersecting corridor. He could also hear a few reporters shouting questions at the man. As he neared, he took notice of Sam again. The youngest member of Bartlet's Senior Staff straightened his tie, smoothed his jacket, and stepped around the corner, coming into view of the Press and, undoubtedly, of Ritchie and his staff. Bartlet heard Ritchie's pause in his reply to one of the reporters as the man took notice of a prominent member of Bartlet's staff surely guessing that Bartlet himself must be nearby.
Bartlet was supposed to be on his way to address the Los Angeles World Affairs Council. CJ had announced the President's speech only a few days previously, but Sam and Toby had made arrangements to enter through the lobby at the last minute. They'd let it leak to the press that the President would enter the hotel through the more secure—and private—rear entrance, leaving Ritchie's people to believe the President wanted to avoid the Governor.
Bartlet recalled how they'd waited to see if Ritchie's plans would change. They had discussed the possibility, but Sam and Toby hadn't thought it at all likely. After all, this was a major fundraiser for Ritchie. He couldn't really cancel his appearance and expect people to give him enough money to run for president.
The President stopped for a moment, waiting for the signal. Sam turned and nodded in his direction, and Bartlet started forward again, buttoning his jacket as he walked. The moment the press realized he was there, they began to shout questions at him. He nodded in greeting and then CJ stepped in and reminded the press where the President was going.
Bartlet paused as if noticing Ritchie for the first time. "Governor Ritchie," he called out cordially. "How are you?"
Ritchie nodded. "Well. And yourself?"
Bartlet inhaled deeply, smiling, to illustrate his own good health. "Never better!"
A reporter called out loudly from somewhere to Bartlet's left. "Mr. President, now that you are face to face with Governor Ritchie, do you have anything to say to him regarding his comments about you, your staff, and your presidency?"
Bartlet paused as if considering whether or not he should comment. "Governor Ritchie is entitled to his opinion," he admitted. He looked towards Ritchie, locking eyes with the man. "But, for the record, I don't think his accusations can be taken seriously. Certainly, they can't be mistaken for fact."
Ritchie took a step forward. Kevin Khan put up a hand to restrain him, not happy about where this could lead. Ritchie looked at Kevin and reluctantly nodded. Just then a reporter shoved a microphone in Ritchie's face. "Governor, anything in your own defense?"
Ritchie smiled, then laughed a nervous little chuckle. "I don't think I have to defend myself. The things I said are a matter of record."
"Are you sure about that?" Bartlet asked, quietly.
"Excuse me?" Ritchie appeared puzzled.
"Are you sure that everything you said was a matter of public record?" Josiah Bartlet seemed the essence of patience as he waited for his opponent to answer.
"Am I sure?" He looked towards Kevin Khan as if seeking instruction.
"Surely you don't need to ask your staff about the veracity of your words." Bartlet's voice conveyed a modicum of surprise.
Ritchie turned to glare at Bartlet. "I am most certainly sure. I stand by what I said. The melioration of my opinion is above reproach."
Bartlet laughed. "I don't know what you're trying to say. I don't even think you just said what you think you just said" He held up his hands to forestall an argument. "But since you are so sure you've got your facts straight, would you like to share them with me?"
Angered by Bartlet's insinuation that he'd misspoken, Governor Ritchie responded without thinking. "Of course we can."
"I have a few minutes right now. Let's do it here." He gestured towards the press and both entourages.
"OhI don't"
"You mean you can't show me—or at least tell me about—these public records?"
"Records?"
"The irrefutable proof that my staff has been involved in clandestine conspiracies, has little or no faith in my abilities as president, and that my Chief of Staff is anything other than a recovering alcoholic?" He paused for a moment, waiting. Regardless of Leo's opinion, that one word made a big difference. He looked Ritchie up and down. "I didn't think so. Frankly, I think you owe an apology to every member of AA for insinuating that recovering alcoholics can't be trusted to hold responsible positions."
Ritchie's anger dissipated when he realized that he didn't want to see this through. He didn't even glance at any of his staff before attempting to reply. "WellI couldI don't"
The reporters leaped into the fray shouting questions about Ritchie's comments. Ritchie looked to Kevin, who stepped forward and tried to take control of the situation. For several minutes, Ritchie and his staff tried to extricate him from this predicament. Bartlet's answers to the reporters' occasional questions shouted to him shot neat holes in whatever defenses the Republicans could muster. Finally, CJ Cregg held up a hand. "I'm afraid this has taken too long. If the Governor would like a debate, the President would be happy to schedule one. No more questions, please. The President has a speech to give in a few minutes."
CJ, Toby, Josh, and Leo—along with the Secret Service—ushered the President towards his next appointment. Sam dropped back for a moment to watch Ritchie and his people as they tried to spin what had happened.
Ritchie stepped forward when a reporter asked him if he had any of the proof that Bartlet had mentioned.
Disingenuously, he replied. "This was an absurd exercise. Bartlet is trying to draw attention away from the fact his Chief of Staff is an alcoholic, and the rest of the Senior Staff don't seem to be able to handle their jobs all that well. Bartlet had lost touch with what the people want. He's been too busy hiding things from the people of the United States to really run the country effectively. Bartlet has his"
"That's President Bartlet." Sam hadn't intended to speak. He wasn't the story here, but he had to say it. He was only glad he'd been able to exercise enough control to keep his own tone respectful while making it clear that he would tolerate nothing less than respect for this man he served. Cameras and microphones turned towards the young man.
Ritchie squinted in Sam's direction. "What did you say, son?"
"You referred to the President as Bartlet. The correct forms of address are President Bartlet or Mr. President. You can refer to him as either of those or as The President. I understand you don't agree with his politics, but you should at least respect his office. And I'm not your son."
He was about to slip quietly into the background to join Toby, when Kevin's voice rang out clearly. "Sam Seaborn is Bartlet's poster boy for poor judgement"
It was obvious the man had more to say, but Sam cut him off redirecting the unfinished verbal attack before Kevin could mention either Laurie or the videotape. "Showing respect for the President of the United States is showing poor judgement? Showing respect for the Commander-in-Chief of this country, a country for which countless Americans have died, is poor judgement?" He shook his head as if in amazement. "That's news to me, Mr. Khan. I'm pretty sure it will be news to most Americans." Without waiting for Kevin or Ritchie to respond, Sam turned and trailed after the President's entourage.
**
Several Days Later
CJ moved gracefully down the corridor towards Leo's office, not even entirely aware that she was humming. She was the last to arrive for Senior Staff, and was pleased to see that everyone else seemed as happy as she was.
Toby laughed out loud when she walked in.
She stopped in her tracks. "What?"
"Still too sexy, CJ?"
Realizing what she'd been humming, she smiled. "You know it!"
Toby returned her smile. "I do, in fact."
"We don't have time for this people." Leo stated, glancing around the room. "On the record, things look good. Congratulations, Sam. It worked better than I'd imagined."
Sam nodded, smiling. "Thanks, Leo."
Leo nodded once, then clapped his hands together. "Let's get started."
**
Josh slipped a few file folders into his backpack, and switched off the lights to his office. As he made his way out of the West Wing, he noticed Sam's light still on. He peeked through the open door—pleased beyond measure that it was open once again—to see what his friend was doing.
The younger man sat typing so rapidly that Josh wondered how he could be thinking that fast. "Hey," He called quietly.
Sam didn't bother looking up, so engrossed was he in his work. "Hey, Josh."
"It's late. You should go."
"Soon as I finish this."
"Sam" Josh hesitated, not comfortable with what he was about to ask. His tone drew Sam's complete attention.
"What is it?" He pushed the computer slightly aside and fixed a steady gaze on the older man.
"It's nothing."
"Josh."
"Really it's nothingit's something you said to Hoynesand something else you said to meI really don't know how to have this conversation."
"You're doing a good job of not having this conversation. Whatever it is, just say it."
"Beforeyou told me friendship is fleeting. Did you mean that?"
Sam sighed and leaned back. It took him so long to answer that Josh nearly took his silence for the only answer he could expect. When Sam finally broke the silence, Josh still didn't like what he had to say.
"I meant it at the time."
"And now?"
"I don't know, Josh. I don't know who to trust."
"You can trust me."
"I wish I could."
"Sam!"
"It's probably got little to do with you." He paused. "That meeting about Hoynes being replacedmy first thought about that was that you had sent me away. If I'd trusted you, I probably wouldn't have thought that."
"But"
"Let me finish. It's not like you've lied to meit's not thatexcuse me" He sat still as a stone. Josh was about to clear his throat or grab Sam's arm and shake him or something when Sam spoke again. "I just. I don't knowI've been out of the loop and blatantly lied to or misledI want to trust the President and TobyI want to trust you."
"Samyou're not thinking ofyou don't want to"
"What?"
"Kill yourself?"
"Josh! What would give you that idea?"
"You've had a rough year."
"So have you."
"Hoynes told me you said something about slipping your head in a noose and kicking a chair away."
It took Sam several moments to recall when he might have said something like that. When it came to him, he laughed. "Josh, I was speaking figuratively. If anything, I was speaking about my career. If I thought of ending anything that night, it was my career, not my life."
"Oh."
"You believe me?"
"I want to believe you."
"It's the truth. I never quit anything in my life. I'm not about to start by quitting my life."
Josh smiled. "That I can believe."
"Good."
Josh looked at Sam, relieved to see a small trace of a smile, touching both his lips and his eyes. "You still think friendship is fleeting?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. You tell me."
"Do you really think that I turned away from you because you didn't notice the PTSD?"
"Did you?"
Josh was going to deny it, but then a thought crossed his mind seemingly out of nowhere. "No more than I turned away from everyone else."
Sam considered that. "I suppose that's true."
"I didn't even notice the PTSD. Sam, come on. What do you want from me?"
"I wish I could tell you. I guess I just want someone to believe. And maybe someone to believe in me."
"I can be that."
"Can you?"
"Of course."
"How long until I'm too much of a liability? How long until I lose my job? This job that means the world to me, this job that I gave up a life in New York and a fiancée to pursue. How long before people stop seeing me altogether." He stood, throwing his pen down on his desk.
Josh stepped back, shaky and unsure of himself. "Things are going good. The debate"
"I'm good at my job, Josh."
"I never said you weren't."
"No. You didn't, butJosh, if we're friends, don't you think we should be, I don't know, friendly?
"We're not unfriendly."
"We're not anything."
"Sam, don't"
Sam sat down, wondering what he should say. Josh wanted reassurances that their friendship was fine. Sam wasn't even sure what that meant, but he knew that, if he said it, Josh would smile, nod, and walk out of his office. Things would bestatus quo.
"Josh, we've known each other a long time, but maybe it's time to decide if we're friends or acquaintances."
Josh stared at Sam for a moment, then he moved his gaze slowly around the room. He thought about the first time they'd met, and how impressed he'd been. Sam had seemed to be the most intelligent, well-spoken congressional aide he'd ever met. His memories spilled out on each other's heels, encapsulating the last decade or more.
"We're friends." Josh said, convinced they were, but unconvinced that Sam agreed with him.
"You stopped coming to me."
"I did."
"Why?"
Josh considered all the things that had seemed to be reasons not to talk to Sam. None of them seemed important. "I don't know."
"Can we fix this?"
Josh smiled. He knew he had an answer to that one. "Are you kidding? Two masters of spin like us? Of course we can!"
Toby walking by the office heard what Josh had said. "Apprentices," he yelled as he walked into his own office.
"What?"
Sam laughed. "I called him master"
"As in 'I Dream of Jeannie?'"
"No. Have you been talking to CJ?"
Josh's head spun at the non sequitur. "Huh?"
"Nothing." Sam raised his voice, obviously intent on Toby hearing him. "And it's master as in Toby-wan."
Josh snorted.
Sam smiled broadly at the absurdity of what he'd said.
Toby entered scowling. "We're keeping that to ourselves."
Josh tried to stifle his laugh. "Not much chance of that."
"It's your fault, Master."
"Sam!"
Like a contagion, the deputies' peals of laughter spread down the halls of the West Wing.
TBC
