Chapter Two
The only sound in the office was of Toby's pen scribbling across the page. Occasionally he stopped and read back what he had written, often crossing it out and starting again. CJ sat on the sofa, absently fiddling with the chain around her neck.
"That's it," Toby declared, handing the pad to CJ. She quickly read through the contents, conscious that the briefing was due to start in five minutes.
"No questions," Toby reiterated.
"Sure, and the President…?"
"Conveys his deepest sympathy to the family etc, etc, and is waiting for news of Sam Seaborn's condition."
"Has he got one?" CJ asked.
"Yes."
"What?"
"Psychogenic shock," Toby answered firmly.
"Okay, but I'm pretty sure that wore off when they pumped him full of tranquillisers."
"Fine," Toby rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, "The President has been informed.
"Yeah," CJ agreed.
Toby was perched against his desk watching the briefing on the television, when Josh appeared in the doorway.
"How's she doing?"
"She's doing good." Both men sat and watched as CJ fielded questions about the accident, read the statement and then left the room ignoring the shouts of her name.
Toby flicked through the channels, mumbled something then flicked back a couple. He hoped he had been mistaken but his first impression was right. A reporter was chatting away to a witness while footage was played of Sam's car being towed away. A picture of Sam standing by the president was shown but Josh didn't get a good look as Toby abruptly switched off the set and turned to Josh.
"He'd been up all night."
"Who else knows that?" Josh reached behind him and shut the door.
"No one, he told me when I phoned this morning." The two men stared at each other, the implications of what Toby was saying clear to them both.
"How did he sound?"
"He didn't sound tired. He sounded pretty wired considering he'd been up all night writing...you know how he gets sometimes."
Josh just nodded.
"It's too early to start speculating," Toby continued. "We'll find out what happened eventually."
Ginger's knock on the door startled them. "The hospital called. Sam's awake now and they're happy for someone to come and get him." As she spoke she handed Toby Sam's briefcase.
"I'll go," Josh announced quickly. He left the office and then poked his head back around the door. "How did it go with Mitchell?"
"He went for it. He wasn't going to though, until he read the speech."
"That's great, I'll tell Sam."
"Yeah, that'll cheer him up."
Josh ignored Toby's sarcasm and focused on how he could help Sam, just act normal he thought to himself, and normally Sam would be interested in the results of a week's work. That's it, normality, that's what Sam needs, he decided.
The moment Josh stepped into the hospital room he knew normality had absolutely nothing to do with the situation he faced. Sam lay on his side, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes were open but he was staring blankly at the wall and he didn't acknowledge Josh.
Josh crouched down so that his face was level with Sam's, "They said you can go home." When his words drew no response Josh reached up and gently shook Sam's shoulder. Sam closed his eyes. When he opened them he looked directly at Josh but still didn't speak. The doctor had told Josh that Sam remembered everything up to the accident but then nothing. Josh could only imagine the thoughts and images that were haunting Sam now but he also knew that lying in a hospital bed wasn't doing anything to help. He shook Sam more forcibly, "Okay it's time to go, Sam. I've brought some clothes for you." He started to unpack the sweater and t-shirt that he'd grabbed at Sam's apartment and laid them on the end of the bed. He had flashes of his mother trying to get him out of bed on a weekend but didn't think that pulling the sheets off Sam and yelling would do much to help. Instead he walked back to Sam's side and got hold of his arms. "It's time to go." Sam tensed at first but then allowed Josh to uncross his arms and help him to sit up. "It's time to go, Sam," Josh repeated, this time more gently. Sam nodded and reached for the clothes on the end of the bed.
When Sam was dressed he stood by the bed as if waiting for the next instruction. Josh looked at him and realised that he wasn't wearing any shoes. He started to rummage in a bag, ignoring the blood soaked shirt and triumphantly pulled out the shoes that Sam had been wearing that morning.
He watched Sam tie the laces; all of his movements seemed slow and clumsy. When he had finished he followed Josh out of the room and over to the nurses' station. He signed a few forms while the nurses told Josh about Sam's aftercare and then followed Josh out of the hospital.
"You know I'd be a lot happier if you'd say something," Josh said as they got into his car.
"I'm alright, Josh. It's just those drugs have knocked me for six." Josh nodded and started the engine. Sam relaxed, knowing that Josh didn't plan on interrogating him just yet.
The rest of the journey was spent in silence. Sam closed his eyes and leant back. His hands clasped tightly in his lap.
When they arrived at his apartment, both men stood in the living room unsure of what to do next.
"Do you want to take a shower or something?" Josh asked. Sam didn't answer. He headed towards the bathroom, relieved that Josh had told him what to do.
Josh took the opportunity to phone Toby. He explained to him that Sam was acting weird.
"Do you want to elaborate on that?" Toby asked.
"Well there's the usual weird as in having two pots for paperclips; used and new, and then there's weird as in blank stares, not talking and seemingly being incapable of making decisions."
"And you're telling me the paperclip thing doesn't worry you?"
"I mean it, Toby, he's not himself."
There was a pause before Toby answered and Josh thought he heard a sigh as well. "Josh, he killed someone today. What you described sounds like pretty normal behaviour for someone trying to deal with that?"
"I've got to go." Josh hung up as Sam emerged from the bathroom, followed by a cloud of steam. Josh gave him a few minutes to get dressed. Sam was sitting on his bed. He had obviously been in the process of drying his hair but now he just sat with his elbows on his knees, his hands holding the towel that covered his head. Josh knocked and watched as Sam immediately jumped to life and began rubbing the towel over his head again.
"Shall I fix us something to eat?"
"I don't know, what do you think?"
Josh sat beside Sam, "I don't know if you're hungry or not. Do you feel like you could eat or does the thought make you want to puke."
"I think there's every chance puking would be involved," Sam admitted.
"Okay so we won't eat," Josh watched as Sam neatly folded the towel on his lap and then unfolded it so he could hang it over the radiator. "Maybe some soup?"
"Soup could be good," Sam agreed.
"Or toast…and toast…soup and toast," Josh announced.
Sam nodded and forced a smile. Josh smiled back, pleased that he had something he could do.
Josh pushed the kitchen window open and used an unread copy of the Post to waft out the smoke from the burnt toast. "What sort of a toaster has 1 as the high setting?" he mumbled as he placed the bowls on the tray and walked into the living room. He switched on the TV and handed Sam a bowl. They ate in silence, as the soundtrack to an old western played in the background, Sam struggling to manage more than a few mouthfuls. Josh didn't comment on the unfinished meal. Instead, he took everything back to the kitchen and began making some coffee.
When he returned to the living room Sam was on the phone. There had been a number of calls since he had got home. Josh had answered most of them, handing the phone to Sam or telling the caller to phone tomorrow based on the shake or nod of Sam's head.
Josh placed the coffee down and went back into the kitchen. He was surprised when Sam came in and joined him at the table.
"Who was that?" Josh asked his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Toby, he wants to go with me when I make my statement."
"Do you want him to? I mean, you don't need a lawyer to make a statement. It might look like-" As soon as he'd said the words Josh realised they were the wrong ones.
"Look like what?" Sam stood up causing the coffee to lap over the edge of the cup. "Look like what?" Josh said nothing; he was startled by Sam's sudden anger. "Like what? Like I'm guilty? Like I've got something to hide?" Sam was pacing up and down the short length of the kitchen. "Like I'm worried I might say something that will incriminate me?"
Josh stood and walked towards him, "Calm down. That's not what I was going to say."
"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" Sam had nowhere to go he was stuck between the closed door and Josh.
"I don't…I can't…oh, God, God, what have I done?" Sam put his head in his hands and slumped down to the floor. Josh hesitated a moment before kneeling beside him. At first Sam wouldn't allow Josh to comfort him and pushed his hands away. Josh had thought listening to Sam in Leo's office had been bad enough but somehow this was worse. He was distraught, his sobs mixed with indistinguishable words and his whole body shaking uncontrollably. Eventually he allowed Josh to wrap both his arms around him. Josh held on and found himself instinctively rocking Sam. Both men had stopped talking. The sobs lessened in intensity and gradually stopped but still Josh held on. It was Sam who moved first, pulling gently away and wiping his hand over his face. Josh thought he looked exhausted and Sam didn't argue when he suggested he go lie down. Josh wiped away the spilt coffee, and then made some more. He sat at the kitchen table and wondered how he could make Sam see he shouldn't feel guilty. He thought about guilt and how it can devour logic and reason, and he wasn't surprised when his thoughts turned to memories of his sister.
Josh woke to the sound of clattering in the kitchen. Bleary-eyed, he followed the noises and found Sam frowning and fiddling with the settings on the toaster.
It took a little while longer for Josh to register the fact that Sam was dressed, and longer still for him to conclude that Sam was dressed for work.
"What are you doing? You don't need to go in today."
"Don't I? Leo didn't tell me not to come in. Toby certainly didn't."
Josh poured himself a coffee. "That's because they don't expect you to."
Sam didn't answer he obviously wasn't prepared to discuss his decision.
He picked up his coffee, plate and newspaper and went into the living room. Josh ate his toast in the kitchen. He had just started his second cup of coffee when he realised something was missing from his morning routine; the newspaper. He decided to see if Sam had finished with it. Quarrelling over the paper would get him talking if nothing else.
Sam wasn't in the room. Josh was pleased to see the empty cup and plate until he heard the sounds coming from the bathroom.
"You okay?" he called.
Josh heard the toilet being flushed and the sound of running water. "Yeah," Sam called back, but he didn't open the door.
Josh had lost all interest in the paper but as he picked up Sam's plate the sight of a photo of Sam smiling stopped him in his tracks. For some reason the fact that Sam would be the news this morning hadn't entered his head. He sat down and flicked to the front page, it showed a picture of Sam's car next to a group of police officers. But that wasn't the section Sam had been reading. Josh turned back to the page the paper had been open at. Underneath the picture of Sam there was a picture of a young woman. She was smiling too. He started to read the article below it.
"Claire Walsh, twenty-five, home from Law school for the holidays." Josh spun round at the sound of Sam's voice.
"You shouldn't read this stuff. You don't need to know this, not yet I mean."
"I need to know who I killed," Sam said. As he spoke he rubbed his neck.
"You're just making it worse. I just think it's better if you don't know."
"Do you want me to pretend it never happened or that Claire Walsh didn't exist?" Sam was shouting but instead of trying to calm him Josh raised his voice too.
"No, I didn't say that, but I won't stand by and watch you do this." He walked towards Sam and grabbed him by his shoulders. "You didn't kill anyone. It was an accident. You have to believe that," Josh was shocked when he realised the hands he thought were supporting Sam were shaking him. He closed his eyes and when he opened them Sam was trying to remove Josh's hands. Josh let go and Sam immediately stepped away and began rubbing his shoulder.
"God, I'm sorry Sam, I didn't-"
"Shut up, Josh," Sam spoke through clenched teeth and continued to massage his neck and shoulder.
Josh knew that the doctor had given him something for the whiplash injury but he decided against asking Sam if he'd taken it. In fact there was something about Sam's expression that cautioned him against saying anything at all. The two men left the apartment in silence, drove to the White House in silence and walked to their respective offices in silence. Sam hadn't said anything when Josh had taken a detour to avoid the site of the accident. He had simply shifted uncomfortably in his seat and spent the rest of the journey gazing out of the window.
Toby was surprised to see Sam who avoided his gaze and the stares of the other communication staffers. He knew his appearance would cause some attention but hadn't realised before what a long way it was from the entrance to his office. Toby waited for Sam to get settled and then he knocked lightly and entered.
"Nobody expected you in today."
"Are you telling me to go?" Sam challenged.
"Of course not." Toby watched Sam sorting through the papers on his desk. "What are you working on?"
"Just catching up really, why, have you got something?"
"Just the speech for the Farmers of the West United blah, blah."
"Is that what they're called?" Sam followed Toby into his office, "because if they want to be taken seriously they really should think about changing their name."
Toby ignored Sam. He normally ignored those types of comments because he thought Sam said them expressly to irritate him. Today he ignored it because Sam's voice didn't match the levity of his words. In fact, his voice caught on the end of the sentence and Toby busied himself searching through his briefcase to give Sam time to compose himself. Sam needed it. He was surprised at how an attempt at humour had almost ended in him bursting into tears. Eventually Toby pulled out a file and handed it to him. He took it and went back to his office closing the door behind him. Nobody disturbed him for the rest of the morning. He missed staff, but didn't notice. He didn't notice that his phone hadn't rung all morning either. He was oblivious to Toby who peered through the window every so often and Josh who walked past his office on four occasions.
At one o'clock Sam put on his coat and told Ginger he was going to the precinct to make his statement. He didn't want Toby with him. Not because he thought it wouldn't look good but because he didn't think he was going to cope well with reliving the accident. It was one thing falling apart in front of Josh but Sam didn't want Toby to witness it too. It was bad enough that he had been so upset in Leo's office. Josh had told him that he had been a little distraught but spared him the full blown account of how he had acted. Josh knew Sam would hate to think of the people he respected seeing him like that.
An hour later, Sam entered the White House. He had been right not to take Toby. He couldn't believe how emotional he was at the moment. It wasn't just the emotion, it was the fact that he couldn't seem to control it. He knew he should feel relieved; the officer had told him that Claire's friend had made a statement describing how she had slipped. He told them they had been jogging, and Sam had pictured her white sweat top and how her blood had shown vividly against it. He explained that the friend said that Claire had skidded on the wet pavement. She thought that she had managed to right herself but then she just lost her balance and lurched into the road. The policeman had reiterated that it wasn't Sam's fault. He even told him that the driver behind had seen Sam brake and slow down long before he hit the girl. Sam knew he should feel vindicated when the officer from yesterday acknowledged that Sam had been very ill when he had seen him at the White House, but he didn't. He felt like he was listening to a message, an important message that he would have to relay to someone later. He tried hard to memorize every word. He knew they were important, these words, and one day he would want to hear them again. But not now, he just wanted to get out of the room and away from the sympathetic stares. He didn't want the coffee that was brought to him or the offers of a ride back to the White House. He wanted to walk. It was raining again and he wanted to walk in the rain.
By the time Sam got back to his office he was drenched. He stood dripping on his carpet for a while, watching the rain run slowly down his shoes and onto the floor. He took off his coat and grabbed a towel from his gym bag, rubbing his hair he went into Toby's office.
"How did it go?" Toby put down what he was reading and gave Sam his full attention.
"Can I…" Sam pointed towards the sofa, "I've just got this headache and I can't seem to shift it." Toby hurriedly moved his things off the sofa and helped a pale Sam onto it.
"Is this just a regular headache? You don't feel ill or anything?" Toby tried to remember what CJ had said about concussion and things to look out for.
"It's my neck I think. It started there then travelled up." Sam moved away from Toby. "It's just whiplash," he mumbled.
Toby was amazed at how quickly Sam fell asleep. He watched as he snuggled further into the cushions. That probably wasn't the best position for someone with whiplash, he thought, but at least he was asleep.