Non Sum Qualis Eram part 4

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

**

August 26
White House

Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff

Josh rubbed his tired eyes wishing the paperwork would just go away for a couple of days. He looked up to see someone he didn't expect to see fill his doorway. Hastily rising to his feet, Josh smoothed out his jacket with one hand and put out the other. "Mr. Vice President."

Hoynes shook Josh's hand. "Josh, you can call me John."

"I keep forgetting that. Did we have a meeting scheduled?"

"No. I hope you have a minute. I was meeting with the President about something, and I thought I'd drop by and get your opinion on something."

"Sure." Josh hated being puzzled, but he couldn't figure out what Hoynes would want to ask him.

"Josh, there's no way to lead up to this, so I'm gonna come right out with it. Why did I lose against Josiah Bartlet ?"

"'Cause you didn't listen to me."

"Seriously, Josh. Whatever it is, I want to know."

Josh was about to deliver a sarcastic comment, but something in Hoynes' demeanor made him think again. He knew Hoynes had to be thinking about his next campaign, and the fact that the Vice President was coming to him for information hinted that he was a different man than he used to be.

"OkayJohn." He gestured for Hoynes to have a seat. "The biggest reason is that you came off as arrogant and unlikable. You acted as if you thought you had all the answers. You came across as the type of man who wouldn't ask for help even if he needed it."

Hoynes was watching Josh intently as he spoke. He knew Josh was good at his job, if a little quick to shoot off his mouth. Hoynes hadn't seen this. He thought he was practical, pragmatic. This was similar to what the reporter from Time Magazine had been telling him. She had conducted a rather long interview, then spoken to some of his staff, his wife, his friends, but she never realized the thought that her candor had planted in his mind. "Arrogant?"

Josh nodded. "You need to be slightly more likable, yet you can't come across as if you're trying to be likable. You need to be firm on your issues, yet also seem as if you're open to compromise." Josh watched the Vice President absorb his words. "What I never understood, sir, is why you didn't see that. You've been in politics a long time. You know all of this."

"I know it as general information. I didn't apply it to myself. I didn't see myself that way. I should have asked sooner." Hoynes sat lost in thought. The reporter had been right. Time Magazine had sent an amicable young woman, though she was obviously opinionated, to conduct the interview. She had been frank at his insistence, and when she'd asked more than once what he thought the public thought of him, he'd turned the question on her. She had said what Josh had just said. After she'd left, he had had his secretary find copies of some of her more recent articles and some information about the woman in general. The Vice President had discussed it with his Chief of Staff, and now Josh had made up his mind for him.

Hoynes rose from his chair and turned for the door. "Thank you, Josh. You've put some things in perspective for me."

"Glad to help, sir." Josh watched the Vice President leave his office Hoynes had listened to him, but wondering just what the man would do with the information.

**

September 1

4:35 PM

Toby Ziegler hadn't been so exasperated sinceyesterday. He took a slow, deep breath to keep himself from making strange noises of frustration. Instead he reached for a ball and bounced it. It landed neatly in his hand. He bounced it again, catching it without needing to move his arm the slightest fraction of a degree. How long he sat there lost in the rhythm of the bouncing, he wasn't sure, but the sound of a voice in his office startled him so severely he fumbled the ball and almost fell out of his chair trying to right himself.

The sound of laughter did nothing to assuage his embarrassment. "You could knock when you enter someone's office!" Toby's gruff voice rose above the laughter.

Sam, still grinning, entered. It felt like déjà vu, even though he had been on the opposite side of the desk the last time. "The door was open!" His protest was weakened by the inability to wipe the grin from his face.

"That's no excuse!" Toby slipped the ball back in a drawer. "What did you want?"

"I came in to see if you needed a hand. I heard the ball"

"No. I'm fine."

The smile slid off Sam's features as he realized his boss' response had come too quickly. "What are you working on?"

"Samdon't."

Sam glanced towards the door, then at Toby, and took two steps towards the desk. "Let me help, Toby."

Toby sat back in his chair, raising his eyes to meet his deputy's. "There's nothing you can do."

For a moment, Sam looked like he was going to argue. He even opened his mouth and took a breath to do it, but then he let the breath out, took a step backwards and nodded. "I'll be in my office." He paused for a moment, then did return to his office, not hearing Toby's reply.

"And I'll be in mine."

**

September 1

9:31 PM

Sam sat still as stone. He wanted to get back to work, but hadn't quite managed it. Ainsley had left his office about 20 minutes ago, and he was still reeling from their conversation. He had found her wandering the corridors and talking to herself.

Ainsley Hayes walked quickly through the corridors of the White House until she got to the Communications bullpen. The closer she got to Sam Seaborn's office, the slower she walked. "Ainsley Hayes, you march right in there"

"You shouldn't talk to yourself in the halls. It makes the Secret Service nervous."

Ainsley jumped as Sam Seaborn came up behind her. "Sam! I thought you were in your office! Don't scare me like that!"

Sam, realizing that Ainsley did indeed seem rather jumpy, had the grace to look contrite. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you!" He ushered her into his office.

"Sam, I don't know where to begin."

"I didn't think I'd scared you that much." Sam's face betrayed the fact that he knew she was no longer talking about his sneaking up on her.

"Sam" she sat, flustered by the fact that she was so flustered. This wasn't like her. She was confident, strong, said what she meantso why was it so hard to say what she wanted to say to this man. She looked up into his eyes, their blue depths warm and inviting but for the tinge of concern and trepidation she saw within them. Oddly, it gave her the strength to continue. "Sam, we need to talk."

That had been the end for Sam. He knew what those words invariably meant. He hadn't really needed to hear any of the rest of what she had to say. She'd said a lot. He remembered something about her thinking he was brilliant.

They'd been talking for awhile, when she'd taken a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. "You are a very special man. You are brilliant, and committedyou know, I read your litigation shield on the Indio. You were right. You are that good. It was the best shield I'd ever readprobably the best one I will ever read."

"And you hate brilliant men?" Sam quipped, wishing this were over.

"I enjoy your company, and I love arguing with you. I just don't love you. Not that way."

Sam stared at her, immobile for a moment. "I can't argue with that."


She took a step towards him wishing she could take away that look in his eyes as easily as she's put it therenot that this conversation had been easy. "If you take the time to think about it Sam, you'll realize that you don't love me, either."

"That would make it easier for you, wouldn't it?"

"What?"

"Ainsley, what if I take the time to think about it, and I realize I do love you?"

"Stop it, Sam! Don't you see? It doesn't take time. You either love me or you don't."

"Which doesn't matter much, since you've decided you don't love me!"

In the end, Sam had asked her if there was anything he could say or do to make her change her mind. When she'd told him no, as he'd expected she would, he'd walked over to her, slipped his arms around her, and hugged her like he would never see her again. He'd pulled back slightly so he could look into her eyes, and, with a sad smile, kissed her on the forehead and let go. He stepped over to his desk, his back to her. He wasn't sure how long he'd stood like that, but when he turned around she was gone.

Sam rubbed his tired burning eyes, pretending the moisture there was from eyestrain.

**

Several Weeks Later

Leo McGarry read the memo, his grin widening by the second. "Good work, Sam!" He slapped the Deputy Communications Director on the back in cheerful celebration.

Sam nodded, his face lit up with that half-pleased, half-surprised look such praise usually elicited from him. "Thanks, Leo."

Leo's exuberance faded as he studied the younger man. "Sam, how long have you been here?"

Sam blinked in surprise. "Four years."

Leo shook his head, chuckling at the answer, and the hint it gave him into the way Sam was thinking right now. "I meant this stretch."

"Oh." He considered the question, the puzzled expression on his face doing more to answer it than anything he might have said.

"Sam" Leo stepped over to his desk and shuffled a few papers.

Sam spoke quickly trying to belay any concern. "I'm fine, Leo. I'm good."

Leo shook his head, knowing Sam was probably right at the moment, but that if he had been here as long as Leo was beginning to suspect, then Sam was going to crash and crash hard. Not finding the report he wanted, he bellowed for Margaret. When her head appeared in the doorway, he asked her for a security report and then turned his attention back to the Deputy Communications Director. "Sam, why don't you go home? You did good. You deserve a rest."

Sam was already shaking his head. "No, I have a couple of phone calls to make, and then I can follow up on"

"SAM!" Leo loudly interrupted. He lowered his voice at the startled look Sam gave him. "Sam, go on home and get some sleep. We'll still be here when you get back."


Margaret came in with the report and handed it to Leo.

"Thanks, Margaret." Leo rifled through a few pages, then waved them under Sam's nose. "Sam, according to the sentry records, you entered the White House four days ago at 5:35 AM and have yet to leave. I'd say that deserves a break."

Reluctantly, Sam nodded. "Sure, I'll go home and get a few hours"

Leo started walking knowing Sam would follow. He headed towards Sam's office. "No. You go home and you can't be back until Tuesday."

"But"

Leo ignored Sam and called to Ginger. "Ginger, Sam's going home. He's not gonna be back til Tuesday morning"

Sam mumbled under his breath distracted by something Leo had said. "'Til TuesdayI wonder what happened to them."

"Take his calls," Leo instructed Ginger. "And if he shows up before then, come and get me."

"Good songvoices something."

Leo finally registered that Sam was speaking. "Sam, what are you talking about?"

"I really don't know."

"Go home."

"Going home."

"And get a cab. I don't want you driving like this!"

Sam nodded. Leo glanced at Ginger who just gave him a don't-worry-I'll-take-care-of-it look and ushered Sam into his office where he could sit down until the cab arrived.

Leo smiled to himself pleased beyond measure that Sam Seaborn was on his team.

**

Somewhere in Indiana

Donna sat motionless, staring at Josh. She couldn't believe he had called Sam at home. He knew what kind of week Sam had had. Didn't he? He couldn't be oblivious. Of course, if the President needed to be staffed, and Josh was stuck out here

"You know how many times your expression has changed in the last minute?" Josh's voice startled her from her reflections.

"Was Sam okay?"

"Was Samof course he was okay."

"He's been really busy lately. Margaret told me Leo sent him home."

"When did you talk to Margaret?"

"Right after you talked to Leo. Didn't he say anything to you about Sam when you called?"

Josh shrugged. "He said Sam was at home. He asked if there was anyone else who could do this."

"There isn't, is there?"

"No."

Toby leaned towards the pair. "Sam will be fine. He's in his element when he's asked to do the impossible."

Donna smiled. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?" She turned her attention back to the map she'd been studying, but her mind was filled with images of Sam Seaborn.

**

Sam's Apartment

Sam dressed hurriedly feeling oddly disconnected and more than slightly out of sorts. Josh's call had been more than a surprise. Of course, dropping the phone and crawling across his bed only to scramble for it before he was fully awake had a way of putting him out of sorts. Staffing the President. He was in no condition to staff the President. He hadn't slept inno. He shouldn't do the math. Somehow, he thought it might make him more tired and less able to function if he knew the numbers.

He wondered what Leo would say when he got there. The White House Chief of Staff had been pretty upset to see him for the brief time he'd already put in that morning. Ginger had physically chased him out of the White House into a waiting cab.

He wondered what the President would say. Of course, the President wouldn't know how long he'd been at the White House and that Leo had ordered him home only to have Josh change the Chief of Staff's orders. Sam hoped Josh had told Leo. He wasn't sure he wanted to explain it to Leo himself.

He looked in the mirror, seeing not the well-groomed man who usually looked back at him, but rather a man teetering on the brink of exhaustion and scared to death that this would be the day he screwed up. As he stared, he inhaled sharply and willed himself to appear alert and attentive. He'd hidden his feelings and his exhaustion often enough to have gotten good at it.

"Thanks, Josh." He whispered to himself, not really mad at his friend, but somehow wishing that he would get to the White House and find this was all a practical joke. The thought of Josh laughing himself silly that Sam had believed that he'd somehow gotten stranded in the middle of America with Toby and Donna made him smile. He shook his head, knowing this was going to be a long day.

**

Leo McGarry wasn't happy that Sam had been called back to work, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. The president had to be staffed, and Sam was the only one available. He considered mentioning to Jed that Sam had been up for 50 or more hours, but decided that wouldn't really be in the President's, Sam's, or the country's best interests. It wasn't the kind of thing the President really needed to know until after the fact, if at all. Jed might yell at him for it later, but the President would gain nothing by thinking that Sam wasn't at 100%.

He watched from a distance as Ginger walked with Sam telling him something about using Margaret. Sam seemed nervous, but alert. Leo decided to tell Ginger to keep the younger man on large doses of caffeine today.

**

The Oval Office


Sam stood within the President's periphery vision. He felt a bit out of his element, but couldn't decide if that was because he was stupid or tired. He knew he wasn't normally stupid, but he surely felt it today.

He listened carefully to what was being said, offered opinions when the President requested it, and wished there was more he could do. He felt like a tree branch caught in the rapids. The chaos that was the Oval Office seemed out of control to him, but President Bartlet seemed more than equal to the task, seeming to calm the chaos with a wave of his hand.

Sam sighed. The meeting was over, and he followed President Bartlet to the coffee service. The tantalizing aroma as he poured seemed to make Sam's brain itch. He remembered that feeling from college, and he promised himself he'd switch to tea after this cup. He used to get that same itch when he pulled too many all-nighters in a row. He'd always imagined the coffee replacing the blood in his veins and creating a chemical reaction when it reached the blood-brain barrier. He no longer remembered what the blood-brain barrier was, but that had been the theory he'd devised while still an undergrad at Princeton wondering if he'd ever get into Law school.

"That could have gone better." Bartlet looked up at Sam, obviously expecting a reply.

Sam, caught up in his musings about caffeine addiction, all-nighters, and just what the blood-brain barrier was, tried desperately to recall what the last meeting had been about, and what Bartlet might think had good wrong. Somehow, a beat or two later than it normally would have occurred to him, he remembered it all. "The word will get around, sir, that you mean business. I don't think it could have gone any smoother. It wasn't likely he'd agree with you wholeheartedly, and at least now, he knows where you stand."

The President nodded, considering Sam's words. Sam turned his attention back to his coffee feeling entirely inadequate.

Bartlet watched Sam sip his coffee. The kid had staffed him before, of course, but not in a long time. He'd been there every step of the way during the campaign. He'd even successfully kept the then Governor of New Hampshire from hitting the floor face first once. Still, he could sense something was off. Sam didn't seem himself. He was nervous. Sam had been almost as jumpy the last time he'd staffed the President right after Rosslyn. He was about to check with Leo about it, when the updates on Josh, Toby, and Donna came in, driving everything else from his mind.

**

Sam watched CJ's press briefing from the Oval Office with the President. He'd already pulled out a notepad and made a few notes, things he'd need to ask Bonnie to check for him so he could write a statement, when Leo walked in.

Predictably, Bartlet addressed himself to his Chief of Staff. "How did it happen, Leo? Why weren't they safe? That's what they're all gonna ask me? What do I tell 'em? How does this kind of thing happen?" He didn't give Leo a chance to answer before he turned to Sam.

"Change my speech for tonight. No way am I not addressing this! No way am I going to stand up there and talk to a snobby, snooty group of rich Democrats and pretend nothing happened!"

Sam nodded, not really listening to anyone but the muse in his head. "Yes, Mr. President."

"Get your tux, Sam. You're coming with me."

That managed to penetrate Sam's sleep deprived, adrenaline- and coffee-soaked brain. He looked up from his notes, but only nodded and agreed. "Yes, sir."

Leo shot the kid a look of sympathy, and vowed to make sure the Deputy Communications Director got some sleep when this night was over.

**

DNC Fundraiser


The President spoke with a conviction that came from the heart. Those who sat in rapt attention before him could feel what he felt. They heard the truth, the pain, and the vow to make things better in the voice of their president, and at that moment they loved him for it. His audience came to their feet, applauding and cheering when he finished. Bartlet waved, and nodded, the picture of humility and caring.

Sam Seaborn stood in the back of the room next to Bruno Gianelli. He didn't care that Bruno had called him a freak. He figured it was as close as the man could come to paying him a compliment. It didn't matter what Bruno thought of him, though. It only mattered what he thought of himself, and Sam Seaborn was pleased. He was too tired to manage happy, but pleased was something he could handle.

It had been one strenuous dayand it had been a light day. He wasn't used to staffing the President, but he had risen to the challenge. Though he'd done it before, he hadn't done it in a long time, and this time he'd been awake for 68 hours. His brain was barely working. He was forgetting how to walk, and he had actually almost hyperventilated when his tired brain had focused too long on the idea of breathing.

Yet, somehow, he'd managed to write a statement for CJ, add a section to the President's speech, and stay alert enough to have at least one good moment in the Oval Office today. He may even have had more, but most of the day was a hazy blur in his mind. He wondered how well things might have gone had he gotten a good night's sleep.

Seeing Leo heading his way, he shook off thoughts of sleep, and found a smile and an alert look for his boss' boss. "Great speech, Sam. I liked what you added."

Sam nodded. "Thanks. Is the President going to take questions from the reporters out front, or are we heading back?"

"He wanted to take questions, but CJ managed to convince him the press would not be on their best behavior."

Sam fell into step next to the Chief of Staff as they headed for the exit the Secret Service had secured. They'd only walked a few paces before Sam stumbled, putting a hand toward the wall to catch himself. Leo turned in concern just as Sam stumbled again. Leo caught the younger man before he could hit the floor. "Steady, Sam. Are you okay?"

Sam waved off any concern. "Yeah. I'm fine. I just tripped."

Leo looked pointedly at the smooth carpet before and behind them. "Over what?"

"I never needed anything before."

Leo conceded, but kept a hand out, not touching Sam, but hovering behind his back in case he should stumble again. It was an indication of how tired Sam was that he either didn't notice, or didn't care to comment.

They walked in silence, Sam lacking the energy to start a coherent conversation, and Leo wondering how soon he could get the kid to go home. Leo ushered Sam towards the motorcade. The President had asked him to have Sam ride back with him so they could discuss the statements he'd be giving the next day about the bombing. Leo had hurried Sam along, hoping to let him have a moment or two alone in the car before the President's presence took up all his energy.


Once Sam was seated, however, Bartlet managed to catch up to them. In moments, the motorcade was heading back to the White House. Leo sighed. The night was not quite over for Sam.

**

Sam followed the President into the Oval Office. Since the President was still technically talking to him, he figured he should stay close. What exactly he was saying was somewhat lost on the man.

Leo, sensing that Sam's adrenaline and caffeine regimen had ceased working in the car, tried to extricate him from the President's side. Unfortunately, when Jed Bartlet started in on securing the nation from lunatics with weapons, he generally didn't allow for much interruption. Leo and Sam let the President talk.


When he did pause for comments, Leo jumped in, saving Sam the need to think.

Finally, when Bartlet had run out of steam, he turned towards the other men. "I've been ranting again, haven't I?" He addressed himself to Leo, knowing Sam would be polite and try not to answer.

"Yes, sir, you have."

"Okay, I guess we're done now." He turned his attention to Sam. "That's all for tonight, Sam. Go on home. We can discuss the rest of the statements and speeches tomorrow."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, Mr. President." Sam nodded at Leo, and turned to leave. He walked slowly and with a great deal of deliberation, as if he were walking on ice and were afraid he would fall.

Bartlet watched for a minute, then turned to his best friend. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix."

"He does seem a little tired."

"A little?" Leo chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at the retreating figure. "Yeah, he's a little tired."

"Why are you smiling at me like I'm soft soft-headed idiot who can't see the obvious."

"Because you're a soft-headed"

"Leo!"

"Don't give me lines like that and expect me to ignore them, sir."

"Get out of here, Leo. You look tired, too."

"Yes, sir."

**

Leo stepped into his office to find someone waiting for him. "Mallory?"

He stepped quickly to her side, giving her a hug. "I didn't think you would make it! I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

She kissed him on the cheek. "I didn't want to bother you in case you were busy."

"Good idea. I'm never busy in my office. Have you decided if you're moving back here?"

She nodded. "For a little while, at least. I really missed you!"

They chatted for a few minutes more before Leo, leaning against his desk, smiled at her and whispered, "You can ask about him, you know."

"Who?"

"Sam."

"I wasn't going to ask about Sam."

"I know, and it looked like denying that impulse was going to give you a stroke." She opened her mouth to protest, but Leo waved it off. "He's good. He's doing good work."

"That speech tonight was his, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, he worked on it."

"That part at the end"


"He added that in the car on the way over."

"How does he do that?" She shook her head in disbelief and admiration.

Leo shrugged. "He's a bright boy."

"Is heseeing anyone?"

Leo had wondered how long it would take her to ask him that. "He was seeing Ainsley Hayes, but she hasn't been around lately, so I don't know what's going on there. You should ask Donna or Ginger. They can do some recon for you."

Mallory laughed. "I don't need to ask around. It was a casual question. I was only making conversation."

Leo smiled. "Sure you were." He hesitated, not sure he wanted to say this, but Sam had had a rough day. "Listen, baby, would you do me a favor and see that he gets home safe?"

"Why would you need me to do that?"


"He's had a rough daya rough couple of days, actually. Could you tell him I said go home. If I see him here in ten minutes, I'm sending the Secret Service after him and get him a cab. I don't want him driving."

She nodded. "Sure, daddy, but I'm going to ask you all about this later."

"I'm sure he'll tell you everything." He kissed the top of her head. "Call me tomorrow."

She promised to call, and then headed towards Sam's office.

**

Mallory's Car

The Streets of Washington, D.C

Mallory drove quickly through the nearly deserted streets of Washington, D.C. Sam had never felt so strange in all his life. He was exhausted, certainly, but he had assumed that, once he sat in the cab, he would fall immediately asleep. He hadn't. He felt one step removed from everything around him. He looked over at Mallory, drinking in her good looks, and amazed at her sudden reappearance in his life.


Her revelation that she was no longer dating the hockey player had surprised him. He'd assumed they were serious, and maybe they had been, but she wouldn't elaborate. Not that it was any of his business. He shook his head, wondering how he had ended up rambling to himself in his head.

The car stopped, but it wasn't until Mallory opened the door that he recognized his house. He seemed to be a beat or two behind in things like that, and he was glad he hadn't driven.

Inside his apartment, he wanted to be a gracious host, but found Mallory steering him to his sofa. He sat down, gratefully, but otherwise, didn't move. Mallory stared at him for a moment. "You gonna be okay, Skipper?"

He nodded. "I'm good, Mal." He looked up at her, adding as an afterthought, "Can I get anything for you? A drink? Coffee?"

Mallory's laughter rang through the apartment.

"What's so funny?"

"You can barely stand! How are you going to get anything for me?"

"I hadn't really thought it through."

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

He grinned, a tired, foolish grin.

"To sleep, hot shot!" She tugged at his arms until he forced himself up off the sofa. Together, they headed towards his bedroom.

"Will you respect me in the morning?" He knew the joke was lame, but in his condition it was the best he could do.

"What makes you think I respect you now?" Only after the words were spoken did she realize they should not have been.

Sam hesitated not moving for a moment, but then his shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly.

"I didn't mean that, Skipper." She wondered why the word respect seemed such a hot one right now. Had someone told him he wasn't respected?

Sam nodded. "I know."

"Sam, really. I didn't mean"

"It's okay, Mallory. I know how you meant it. Respect is something you earn. I never even earned a date with you."

She shook her head, wondering if his state of mind was putting strange ideas into his head, or only tearing down his inhibitions and making it easier to speak his mind. "No, Sam. Of course I respect you."

He nodded, saying he knew, but Mallory wasn't sure if he was just saying that. Why, she wondered, did she always manage to put her foot in her mouth with this guy? Why couldn't she learn to watch what she said?

"Sam, you're tired. You were surprised to see me. I wish I could take that back. It was a bad joke, and a stupid thing to say."

Sam turned to face her. "I know. I understand. Please, Mal, my head is pounding. Can we do this later?"

She nodded, hoping she hadn't blown it with him again before they could even get started.

He stepped into his bedroom, and she turned to leave him alone. In a few minutes, he stepped out wearing sweats.

"Sam, I'm gonna go, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks for seeing me home." He looked her in the eye, smiling. "I didn't really just say that, did I?"

She laughed. "Yeah, you did. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

He nodded, and closed the door behind her. Leaning against the door for a moment, he couldn't help but wonder what her coming back would mean for him. Did Leo know she'd taken him home? Did she think there was something here for them to pursue? Did she wanthe left the thought unfinished as he climbed into his bed.

His thoughts turned to a sadder point. Why had she said that about respect? He knew she'd been joking. It was just eerie that the words had been so close to the ones Ainsley's father had used when Mr. Hayes had called him after Ainsley had broken up with him. He'd warned Sam to leave Ainsley alone and not try to get her back. Sam had replied that he would do as he pleased, and that he had hoped the two of them would be able to maintain a courteous relationship. He's mentioned that he and Mr. Hayes could certainly say they shared both feelings for Ainsley and a mutual respect.

Mr. Hayes had laughed. "And just what makes you think I respect you, Mr. Seaborn?" He'd hung up without giving Sam a chance to reply.

He didn't want to be thinking about that now. His pounding head and rapid heartbeat were telling him he needed rest desperately. Pulling the comforter up over his head, his last thought was a fervent hope that the phone would not ring tonight.

**

The Next Morning

Sam allowed himself to take a slightly longer shower than usual. The water, almost too hot, felt good on his aching muscles as it ran down his back in rivulets. The shower, invigorating as it was, couldn't alleviate the exhaustion of working 72 straight hours. As much as he might wish he could crawl into bed and stay there, he had to be in the office in an hour. He was just grateful he'd gotten 7 hours of sleep. Even before the last 72-hour marathon, he hadn't been getting more than four or five.

He didn't know if Leo would be upset with him, but they'd agreed he'd come back to the office on Tuesday, and he had several meetings that he couldn't reschedule.

He recalled the time he'd spent staffing the President the previous day, and he could feel his old love of politics reawakening. Odd to think that, working in the White House for four years, he could feel like he wasn't really working in politics, but there it was. His day to day life had become something else. When the President had been inaugurated, this job had been the fulfillment of a dream. Four years later, he realized it was no longer enough. He wanted more.

Lathering up one last time, loath to leave the relaxing jets of water, he understood what the President had been trying to tell him all those months ago. One day, he would run for office, and he would win.

**

To Be Continued