Author's Notes: So, this is unintentionally becoming more and more AU, thought still not drastically so. In my creative liberty, I've decided that Grace and Sam met sometime during the first term, and were possibly married shortly after re-election. It's not a terribly firm timeline in my head yet, so things could still change; sorry. And don't worry; if you're patient, more of your favorite characters should emerge at one point or another…
Sam opened the door to his home. "Grace?" he called out. "Grace, I'm home!" Sam hung up his coat.
"I'm in here!" she answered. Sam followed her voice to the kitchen, where he tossed his keys onto the counter and found his wife wearing oven mitts: one lobster, one cow. She set down the glass dish she'd pulled out of the oven, and then shut the door. Sam walked over to her and she greeted him with a kiss, cupping his face with her oven mitts. He laughed, laid a hand gingerly over her barely-showing tummy, and lightly kissed her forehead.
"You're adorable." He laughed. "Where's Nate?"
She smiled. "He's taking a nap. You have a good day?" she asked, turning back to her dish.
"Yes." Sam answered. She looked at him, waiting for her husband to expound, as he always did. "Josh stopped by today."
"Josh?" Grace questioned.
"Josh." Sam returned, as if the name itself was enough of an explanation.
"Josh, Josh, Josh?" she repeated, eyebrows raised.
"And three times means…?" Sam teased.
"Josh – our Josh." Grace clarified.
"Lyman, yeah." Sam sighed, and plopped down on one of the stools that lined the island in the kitchen where Grace was cooking.
She stopped and stared at him. "Well, why didn't you bring him home?!"
"He had to go back to Washington." Sam answered, leaning his chin on his hand.
Grace's hands went to her hips. "He couldn't say hello?"
"He had some people to see, and he's flying back in a couple hours, I think." Sam answered absentmindedly.
"See, this is what happens when he doesn't listen to Donna." Grace admonished, waving the lobster in the air.
Sam chuckled a little. "Yeah."
What was he doing here?" Grace focused her attention on dicing vegetables. "The President's not in California."
"No." Sam answered. He paused before continuing. "No – he wanted to ask if I might get back into politics."
Grace looked up, but kept cutting. "He knows you won't work for the President."
"He knows." Sam raised his head and leaned forward on his elbows. "He didn't come for President Hoynes." He began preparing himself mentally for the barrage of questions that he would have to answer.
"He's got another guy in mind?" She questioned, throwing her vegetables in a pot on the stove.
"Yeah." Sam nodded, his gaze unfocused.
"What do you think?" Grace asked him. "This guy a good guy?"
Sam smiled and laughed a little. "You like him."
Grace stopped again and looked at her husband. "Sam, what aren't you telling me?"
Sam met her eyes with his own. "He asked me."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"He asked me, Gracie." Sam repeated. "He wants me to run."
"Oh, wow." Grace leaned forward across the countertop as well.
"Yeah." Sam nodded again, folding his hands together.
"No, I mean, oh, wow, Sam." Grace was more than a little shocked.
"We'd start immediately, with the gubernatorial." He told her.
Grace raised her eyebrows again. "That's the race for governor?"
"Yeah." Sam answered, and then grinned. They'd been married for five years, and she still knew so little about politics. "Yeah."
Grace didn't seem to notice that he was amused by her lack of knowledge. "That's in – that's like, a year, Sam. Don't you need more time than that?"
"Yeah." He grew somber again, lowering his chin back to his hand.
Grace took her husband's free hand in both of hers. He raised his head, and found her deep brown eyes searching him. "Do you want to do it?"
He sighed. "I don't know." His head fell again, and Grace gently laid a hand on his cheek.
"Whatever you do, I trust you. Nate and I – " she paused "wherever you go, we go."
Sam smiled and took one of her hands, kissing the palm. He sighed again and stood. "I'm gonna take a walk."
Grace nodded. "We'll go ahead and eat, but I'll leave a plate for you." She told him, knowing he needed time and that he wouldn't be back until much later.
Sam smiled gratefully, appreciating her understanding. He turned and walked back to the entryway, where he slipped on his coat. He stepped out the door, acknowledging the darkening skies and feeling the cool breeze. Not quite sure where he wanted to go, Sam simply began walking. He considered everything. He thought about Grace and Nate and the baby that was on the way. He thought about the job he had just begun at the University. He did genuinely enjoy teaching. He enjoyed his students and he enjoyed a normal, regular schedule, and the time that it allowed him to spend with his wife and child. It was a comfortable existence; it was safe. Sam wasn't sure he was willing to put his family in a state-wide, and possibly, eventually, a national spotlight. He wasn't even sure he would be able to do it. There were so many reasons not to try. Sam dug his hands into his pockets, vaguely aware of the rolling thunder that was building in the distance. He felt the two pieces of paper that he'd put there. One from his long-time friend, with a number and address. The other from a man he greatly respected, that brought back a vivid and cherished memory. It was the night before the New Hampshire primary; it was a game of chess with the President of the United States and a discussion about China and Taiwan in a dimly lit West Wing office. It was a statement of encouragement. Sam pulled the note out. He looked at it as he kept walking.
See the whole board. I believe in you.
It began to rain, only a few drops at first, and the thunder grew louder. "Sam. You're gonna run for President one day. Don't be scared. You can do it." The words echoed in his mind; he could still hear President Bartlet. "That's checkmate." It was raining harder now, but there was sudden clarity in Sam's head. He looked around, and recognized that he was far from home. Twilight was quickly approaching. Sam took a glance at his watch; he'd been out for a little over an hour and a half. Searching his pockets, he discovered that he'd not brought his phone with him. He stood for a moment in the rain, now sufficiently wet, and was indecisive. He looked at Josh's card. It was too late to go home now and still catch him. He read the address, thought about it briefly, and took off running, this time with a purpose and with direction.