Non Sum Qualis Eram part 8

By Ecri

See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.

Same Time

The White House

Toby's Office

"Sam!"

"And it's as if I never left!" Sam laughed into the phone.

"Why are you still sending"

"Great, you got it!"

"Sam, you have a campaign to win! Why are you writing"

"I found those pages. I must have accidentally packed them when I left The West Wing." Sam waited for Toby's response, but got only silence. "Toby? Are you still there?"

"Where else would I be? And that excuse is getting old!"

"Toby, I know how you feel about this, but if I can help, you should let me. I know you're probably driving the rest of the speechwriting staff crazy right now. You won't let them help. You won't even let them know there's a problem. Let me."

"You have a campaign to win."

"I thought we all agreed I couldn't win."

"They all agreed you couldn't win. You and I agreed you should."

"Should and could are two completely different things."

"So are trying and doing, but you have to have the first to have the second."

"Are you saying I could win, I should win"

"I'm saying I have every confidence in your ability to make this something good."

"And I have every confidence that you can break through your block."

"Sam."

Sam, startled by the fatigue and defeat he heard in Toby's voice, thought of the times he'd been plagued with writer's block and what had stimulated his talent. An idea dawned. "Toby, you know, I've been a little blocked myself lately."

"Not by the look of the pages you sent me."

"Well, yeah. It's funny, I can still write for the President, but I can't seem to write for myself. At first I was afraid I'd written for him for so long, that if I tried to give a speech of my own, it would sound like Bartlet Redux, nowI don't know. I guess I'll have to wing it."

"Wingdid you say wing it? As in ad lib? As in go in unprepared?"

"No, not unprepared. I'll still be briefed on the issues. I'll still have a general idea what I want to say"

Toby groaned.

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Sam, when's your next speech?"

"Two days from now."

"What's it about?"

"I'm speaking at a rally. Mostly college kids. Don't worry about it. I have an outline."

"Fax it to me."

"My outline?"

"No, your laundry list. Of course, your outline!"

"Toby, there's no need. I know how busy you are with the Inauguration"

"Don't make me come over there and get it."

"It's on its way."

"Good. I'll call you back later."

"Okay, andthanks."

"Oh, no. Don't thank me. I haven't even read it. BesidesI should be thanking you. The pages you've been FedExing arewell, some of the best you've ever written."

Sam smiled, surprised by his boss' words. "Thank you, Toby."

"I already told you. Don't thank me, yet."

**

The Next Day

The White House

Donna sat at her desk going through the newspaper looking for mentions of Sam Seaborn. Whenever there was a lull in her daily fetch and carry routine for Josh, she found herself doing this. She tried to tell herself she was just trying to get a little more information for her daily memo to the Staff and the President regarding Sam's campaign, but she was starting to suspect it was more that she missed him. She had never realized how she had looked forward to seeing him every day. His easy smile, his chivalrous attitude towards the assistants, his corny, old-fashioned vocabularyshe smiled now at the recollections.

The memo had grown out of a mutual desire on the part of the assistants to know how Sam was doing. She'd broken down one day and called him on her own cell phone, not sure if she should be calling a Congressional Candidate from a White House phone. It had cost her $30, but she had learned that his campaign was going well, and that he'd been really glad to hear from her. She'd reported most of what they'd said to each other to the assistants, and soon, she'd started to share information she found while scanning headlines for Josh. The daily memo had caught too many eyes and soon the readership had grown to include the President. That was when she'd started double-checking the spelling.

She'd heard people refer to it as the Sam Memo, Donna's Sam Memo, Donna's Daily, the Sam Report, and once as The Sam. She didn't think Sam knew about it, and she was sure he'd be embarrassed if he did.

Still, as she paged through the paper, she wished there was something shethey, the rest of the staff could do to help him win his campaign. A headline caught her eye, and she reread it to be sure she hadn't misunderstood. Then she did a quick Google search. Sure enough it was there. CNN had it. There was even video. She groaned, just as Josh came out to her desk.

"Donna, I need Senatorwhat's wrong?" Josh interrupted himself when he saw the look on her face and connected it to the groan he'd just heard.

"The lead in my Sam Memo for tomorrowJosh, why can they get away with this kind of thing? I know we're on opposite sides, but shouldn't we be on the same sideyou knowThe United States of America!"

"Woah, Donna, what? Tell me." Josh leaned in closer to her computer screen. She clicked on the video icon and they watched CNN's story together. Donna, sick to see how the "other" candidate in the California 47th was treating Sam, instead found herself watching Josh. He had stared at the screen in disbelief at first, then his face flushed red, and his voice tripled in volume. "There's no way they are saying this! They are NOT saying this!"

"Josh, calm down!"

"Call CJ."

"She's briefing."

Josh took her arm and pulled her into his office. He switched on the TV, watched as CJ's face coalesced out of the darkness.

**

"and so the President's remarks will be moved back to 3:30 PM. That's assuming that we leave here before that time." Soft chuckles floated through the pressroom. "That's all I have. Questions?"

CJ scanned the room already knowing who would have questions and which of those she would honor with answers. "Katie?"

"CJ, has the President made any comments regarding Chuck Webb's comments that, and I am quoting" Here she paused and checked her notebook as if she hadn't already memorized the words.

CJ waited almost laughing at the transparency of the move. The internal laughter was shocked into silence by the next words the newswoman uttered.

" Sam Seaborn is not only too inexperienced to adequately represent the ideals of the people of the California 47th, but he also has never had the trial by fire of serving in defense of this country in the armed forces. He's a pampered, white-collar, Ivy-League coward who would have crumbled under fire, and will surely crack under the pressures of holding a real position of leadership rather than merely being one of the many cogs in the ponderous machine of the Presidency.' "

Katie looked expectantly at CJ, who noted the glint of anticipation in her eyes.

CJ stood straighter, bringing herself up to her full height, and squared her shoulders. Several reporters in the front row actually cringed, and slumped down in their seats moving slightly aside as if clearing a direct line of site.

"Katie, I haven't spoken to the President about this latestremark, and I am curious what Mr. Webb considers to be the appropriate and acceptable definition of bravery. Sam Seaborn is what you could call a hero of the moment. He does things that need doing. He expects no parades. He expects no thanks. He expects no recognition. If you happen to have the good fortune to call him your friend, he may even help you and then try to keep it a secret." Her hand unconsciously fingered her necklace. "He is a gentleman and a scholar and has the presence of mind to act in a crisis without waiting for direction. As for anyone calling Sam Seaborn a coward, I can tell you this" She paused, waiting for the silence to get their attention, and, when each reporter was looking expectantly at her, she continued in a quiet, yet firm tone. "He saved my life in Rosslyn."

With no further comment, she spun on her heel and left the room, ignoring the calls for her attention.

She hadn't taken more than a few steps towards her office, when she found herself facing a grinning Josh Lyman with a breathless Donna Moss in tow. "That was perfect! That was wonderful!"

"I'm so glad it met with your approval." CJ kept walking, her tone indicating Josh's approval held little interest for her.

Josh followed. "CJ, we have to tell the President about this. He might get asked about it."

"I know that, Joshua. Carol!" She bellowed behind her, as her assistant scurried after her to catch up.

"Yes, CJ?"

"Call Leo's office and find out if he has a minute."

**

The White House

The Residence

Later That Evening

Jed Bartlet wearily kicked off his shoes and sat, feeling older than his not insignificant years. It had been a more stressful day than he'd imagined when he'd first gotten out of bed that morning.

On top of an already hectic day, and a ridiculously full schedule, Leo had briefed him on something CJ had said to the press. He'd been appalled that the Fourth Estate seemed compelled to search for reactions from his administration on every stupid word Chuck Webb uttered.

He'd known something had been up with Sam and CJ during the aftermath of Rosslyn, but he hadn't been told that he'd saved her life. Thinking again about what had happened that night, about Josh being shot and almost taken from him, he realized he hadn't allowed himself to dwell too much on who hadn't been shot, and how close it might have been. It could so easily have been several of them or all of them. It could so easily have ended with more of them dead than alive. As he thought about this, he realized that he not only almost lost Josh, but also almost lost CJ, Sam, and of course, Charlie had been the original target. It struck him as a very Sam-like way to dieacting like a Secret Service Agent and throwing himself in the path of oncoming bullets.

He shook his head in disbelief. What had the boy been thinking?

Bartlet had called Ron Butterfield after Leo told him what CJ had said and, in answer to his myriad questions, he learned that CJ had indeed been in the path of a bullet. The expert analysts, whoever they were, had determined that CJ would have been killed by the bullet if Sam hadn't shoved her to the ground.

Jed had had the tape sent to his office along with an expert to show him what he was watching. Sure enough, in slow motion, he could see that the bullet would have hit CJ. He could also see that if Sam's timing had been slightly off, if he had tripped, a not unheard of possibility, or if Sam had hesitated, he might have saved CJ only to be killed or maimed himself.


The thought of losing Josh had been one of the things that had nearly driven Jed Bartlet from God. Now, faced with the idea that he might have lost another member of the family–or more–was enough to make him fall to his knees muttering prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving.

CJ's life had come close to ending. He might not have ever had to look up at her again. He might have lost the chance forever to tease her, to watch her brief the press, to listen to her sing the Notre Dame fight song.

And Sam! The thought of never seeing Sam Seaborn againnot to see that smile, that hopeful expression and excitement when Sam hit on a good idea, the no-nonsense attitude he assumed when he spoke about law and legalities. Unbidden, memories of how the youngest member of his Senior Staff had reacted to news of Bartlet's own illness invaded his relieved thoughts.

Jed knew he hadn't done right by the young man, and he wanted to fix that. He picked up his phone and called Charlie. "Charlie, before you go, I want you to arrange a meeting first thing in the morning. Senior Staff, and I don't care what they have to shuffle to arrange it. Make it a breakfast meeting and notify the chef. Then get yourself home, Charlie. You've done enough for one day."

Abbey walked up behind her husband. "Jed, what are you planning?"

"Did you ever think about having sons, Abbey?"

Abbey Bartlet knew she should be surprised by the question, but she knew her husband well enough to know why he asked it. She smiled at him. "Jed, we had daughters. Three lovely daughters. I'd have loved to give you a son, but the Lord took care of that for me."

"You knew?"

"How you feel about Josh, Sam, and Charlie? You aren't that good at hiding how you feel, Jed. Those three mean a lot to you. I know that." She narrowed her eyes as she watched him. "What is it you're planning?"

"I want Sam to win."


"I thought you all expected to get him back here in a few months."

"I'd love to have him back, but I think that expectation is taking the wind from his sails. Sam should be in Congress. He needs to start worrying about his future. I would like to vote him into this office someday."

"So, tomorrow's breakfast"

"is the first step toward making that a reality."

"Is this about the yes-man thing?"

"It's that. It's calling him a coward because he never served in the armed forces." He paused and looked away, and Abbey knew they were getting to the real problem. "It's something Josh said about how we let Sam take the fall. We let him publicly take the blame if something goes wronglike the open mikebut when we need a pretty face on the morning shows or an answer to a legal question we go to him."

Abbey nodded again. "Jed, Sam is good on the morning shows. He knows it. He never minded doing it. And he's a brilliant lawyer. He'd probably be offended if we didn't turn to him from time to time."

"I know. I know. He is good at it. You know, his campaign is going better than we thought it would. His numbers are still low, but not as low as they should be in the California 47th." He leaned back tiredly, and Abbey took his hand. "Did I ever tell you that I told Sam he'd run for President one day?"

She looked at him in surprise. "No. When did you do that?"

"The night I gave him the chess set, and we played. I told him I believed in him."

"That's good, Jed. I can see him as President." She shook of thoughts of the future and came back to the present. "So this is really about Sam's political career. You want him to win."

"I don't want him to lose. It could ruin his career, but"

"What?"

"But I still need him. He's one of the best speechwriters in the country. I don't want him to go. I'm not ready."

"That's what you said when Ellie went away to college. Jed, it's okay."

"If he loses, how will he run again?"

"He may not lose."

Jed smiled sadly, " Ah, but if he wins, how do I let him go?"

She returned his smile. "You won't. You'll follow his career closely. You'll always give a little more weight than you should to his position on issues, and you'll invite him to all the parties we have at the White House."

"Yeah. I could do that."

"Besides, I've known Sam Seaborn for awhile. If he wins, no one will think he's your yes-man for very long."

Jed laughed, knowing that, once again, his wife was right.

**


The Next Day

The President's Dining Room

6:47 AM

Josh wondered how all of this had happened. He was glad the President was behind Sam's campaign, but Josh didn't enjoy the thought of Sam not working in the West Wing any longer. He knew Sam didn't quite trust him. Sam wasn't as sure of their friendship as he wasor maybe it was just that he had taken his friendship with Sam for granted. Regardless, he couldn't come up with a way to prove he was still there for Sam. He had tried sending Sam information and hints about how to win the election, but Sam had told him to cut it out. He could still remember their conversation.

"Josh, you have to cut it out."

"I think this could really help. You need to listen"

"No! Josh"

Josh heard Sam take a deep breath to calm himself, and wished, not for the first time, that the two of them were face to face rather than on opposite coasts.

"Josh, this is a gray area. You aren't working for me. You work for the President. You can't help."

"Like you can't help Toby?"

Sam hesitated as if unsure how to respond. "What do you mean?"

"All those FedExes? That's gotta be something, Sam."

Sam had refused to say what he was doing for Toby, and he'd changed the subject rather than confirm any of Josh's speculation.

Now, the White House Deputy Chief of Staff looked around the President's breakfast table wondering how many of them had offered to help Sam and been turned down.

"So, that's what we're gonna do. CJ, we're going just before the election. I want lots of photo ops. I want to spin everything we can spin to make it work for him."

The President scooped up a forkful of egg as he spoke, but Toby's comments kept him from eating it.

Toby leaned toward the President. "Sir, I appreciateand I'm sure Sam will appreciate what you're planning, but we need to be cautious."

"Why?"

"If you endorse him too vehemently, you may have the opposite effect that you intend."

"You're saying people will vote against him because they hate me."

"Noyes, sir, that's what I'm saying. You're approval rating is middle-of-the-road–hovering right at 50%. We've done polls in Orange County, and it wavers there between 45% and 50% depending on the issue. We don't know how much will translate to support for Sam that he doesn't all ready have."

Bartlet looked at Leo. "You think he's right?"

"Well, it's possible, sir. Maybe we can do a poll."

"You want to ask people how they would react to a presidential endorsement?"

Josh, who had barely touched his own omelet, interrupted. "We don't need to do that, sir. If we go in and endorse him as you would any other democratic candidate, we could probably find a way to let the voters there know that Sam is still his own man. That he won't blindly follow your every lead."

"That's good, because we'd hate to have people think he supports his President."

"That's not what I meant."

Bartlet waved away Josh's comment. "I know, Josh, I know. Okay, so we plan a trip just before the election. Does anyone have anything else on his campaign? What do his numbers look like?"

"His numbers are a little lower than they should be. Will Bailey has him with Business."

"Why?"

CJ interrupted before Toby could reply. "According to Sam, Will's PR guy keeps telling him he can't win, so he can't cost the DNC its support."

"His PR man is telling him he can't win?"

CJ nodded. "Yes, sir."

"This is the same guy who insisted a dead man could win?"

"Apparently."

"When did you talk to him?"

She glanced down at her plate of half-eaten French Toast, and ran a fork through a puddle of syrup. She and Sam had last talked about her court case, and it still made her uncomfortable. Forcing herself to put down her fork, she raised her eyes to meet the President's. "Two days ago. I try to speak to him at least once a week. Sometimes we play phone tag for days, but I can usually keep to the schedule."

Bartlet nodded. "Josh, how busy are you?"

"I've got a full day of meetings, sir."

"I mean long term."

"He's too busy for what you're thinking, sir." Leo glared at his old friend.

"And how do you know what I'm thinking?"

Leo ignored the question and turned to Toby. "I imagine you're tied up with the Inauguration speech."

"You could say that." Toby ran a hand over his head, wishing the speech were finished.

Jed nodded. "Okay. I want each of you to monitor his campaign and offer suggestions when you can. Josh, call Will and talk some sense into him and his staff. Now, is there anyone here who can go to California and help Sam?"

Toby cleared his throat, but CJ answered the question. "I'm sure Toby would love to do that, sir."

Bartlet looked from CJ to Toby. He made an instantaneous decision. "Toby, when the speech is finished, I'm going to want you to take a leave of absence and head to California."

Toby nodded. The thought had occurred to him, but he hadn't been confident enough about his abilities lately to think he could do Sam any good.

"CJ, whenever the press asks about Sam's campaign, you make sure they understand that this administration is behind him 100%."

A chorus of yes sirs did wonders for Jed's demeanor. "Good! Now, let's eat and get to work." President Bartlet once again attacked his eggs.

**

Several Hours Later

The Oval Office

President Bartlet stared across the room at his Vice President. "I'm going to be visiting California just before the election. Why do you want to go now?"

"I know you may find this hard to believe Mr. President, but I like Seaborn. I think I might be able to help."

"And"

John Hoynes smiled. "I have my own reasons for being interested in Seaborn's career."

Bartlet stared at his Vice President as he tried to interpret what he'd just heard. "I'm sure you do. I have no problems with you helping Sam's campaign, but I didn't ask you to stop by to discuss the California 47th. I need you to attend an embassy party on December 18."

"What Embassy?"

"Lord John Marbury is throwing some kind of a bash for some reason I can't recall, and I can't attend. His office told Leo they were sending an invitation to you, and that they needed either you or me to attend. They were adamant about it. Since I can't"

"I have to."

Bartlet grinned. "Essentially."

"All right. I'll go. No problem. I'll be calling Seaborn to coordinate my visit, as well."

"Fine. I'll be down there late January or early February, so let's try to do him as much good as we can."

"Absolutely."

"Have you heard what Webb is saying about Sam?"

"I heard about CJ's press conference, and I do get Donna's Daily memo."

"CJ handled that well, didn't she? They've been running footage of Rosslyn on CNN. Sam in slow motion! He's been hailed a hero."

"Did you hear what he said about it?"

"About the tape or about being a hero?"

"About being a hero. He said he doesn't understand the fuss. He did what he had to do, and was sure anyone else would have done the same."

"I knew he'd downplay it."

"What can he do? Stand up and yell, yes, I'm brave, vote for me.'"

"Yeah, you're right. Let's help him win."

"That's always been my intention, sir."

**

December 14

Sam Seaborn Campaign Headquarters

Sam reread what Toby had faxed to him. The words rolled smoothly, expressively off his tongue as he tried them on for size, reminding him why Toby Ziegler was his favorite writer.

He picked up the phone and dialed. Ginger kept him on for several minutes pumping him for information on the campaign. He laughed as he gave it to her, and soon she put him through to Toby.

"Yeah, Sam, what is it?"

"What a cordial greeting, Toby!"

"Get off my back. What do you want?"

"You're sounding more yourself."

"Sam"

"I got the fax. This is a great speech. Can I assume you got your swing back?"

"What makes you think I wrote it? Maybe I gave it to the rest of the staff."

"This had your fingerprints all over it." He paused a moment, and resumed in a quieter, more personal tone. "Thanks, Toby. This is a big help."

"It was a big help for me, too. It's absurd. I've been desperate to write something half that good for the President, and I can't do it. Somehow, this was easier."

"Sure it was easier. Less pressure, switching voices. You didn't have to write for The President of the United States. This was just for me."

"You already had a speech written, didn't you? You were never going to wing it."

Sam smiled, and Toby could hear it in his voice. "Yours is better."

"Why, Sam?"

"Because it's got a better flow, and some very powerful verbs"

"I mean why did you fax me an outline for a speech you'd already written?"

"I had a feeling it would help you."


"And if it hadn't?"

"See, the good thing about having things work according to plan is that you don't have to come up with alternative plans."

"I guess so."

"So, are you writing now? Is the Inauguration coming along?"

"Thanks to you and the pages you keep finding', and some pages from the rest of the speechwriting staff, and this ploy of yours, we might actually finish it in time."

"So you're writing?"

"I did 40 pages last night."

"That's great, Toby!"

"Yeah, it is. Listen, how's the campaign going?"

"Ask Ginger. She pumped me before she put my call through."

"Ah. That's how the assistants always know everything first."

"That and they're smarter than we are."

"Yeah. I always forget that part."

**

To Be Continued