CHAPTER ONE : A NEW BEGINNING
PART ONE
2006, New Hampshire
"Do you think he'll be there?"
Ainsley sighed. She loved Sam, she did, but he tended to be tiresome when he was anxious, and he had been anxious for days now.
They were on the road to Bartlet's farm, for a gathering of the former senior staff, the first 'post-administration reunion', as Donna had put it. Technically, the President still had to clear up his office, but the transition was well-advanced now. From what Toby had said, they felt gone already, even though they were still officially working there.
Abbey had called Sam and Ainsley to ask if they would be able to make it. It was a tight thing - Sam had just been elected Governor, and they were busy with a transition of their own. On the other hand, they would be even busier in a few weeks, and she knew that Sam missed his colleagues.
She also knew he had... insecurities about what they thought of him - the circumstances surrounding his leaving hadn't been ideal, to say the least. She hoped this reunion would help him work on that.
Keeping her eyes on the deserted road, she answered, "You heard what Abbey said. You know as much as I do."
"I know, it's just..."
...that he was nervous at the idea of seeing them again, yes, she knew that. A lot had happened in the last four years. They had all changed, and it would probably make for a weird reunion. She hoped the weirdness wouldn't last, though. They deserved some good time between friends.
"Here we are," she said, as the farm appeared, and she maneuvered to park her car beside the other ones. Jed was already walking towards them, smiling widely.
Ainsley shot a look to Sam, and he looked back at her, uncertain.
"You okay?"
He nodded. "Let's go," he said, extricating himself from his seat.
************
President Bartlet (Jed, Sam tried to correct mentally, but it didn't ring quite right) hugged him fiercely, whispering "God, I'm happy to see you."
"Thank you, sir." He smiled. Then grimaced as the President eyed him tersely.
"You'll have to lose that habit, Governor," Bartlet said.
"Yes... Jed," he forced out. You obviously didn't shake off years of conditioned answers easily, he reflected.
Jed accepted his attempt, nodding softly. "We'll work on that. You look good."
Sam smiled. "So do you, si - Jed."
Jed shook his head with a look of reproof, turned to Ainsley and took her in his arms.
Sam almost laughed at the face his wife pulled, horribly intimidated. He didn't, though, because she had ways to exact revenge and he didn't want to bring her wrath upon him.
"Thank you, sir," she said.
"Try again," Jed said.
"Thank you, Jed."
"Better," he said. "I'll teach you, you'll see."
They both nodded politely. Sam had the feeling that it was going to take time before any of them could address Bartlet as "Jed" but he didn't doubt that the President would try to convert them.
"Where's Alex?" Jed asked.
"We left him with Mom, he caught a bad cold," Sam said. "He was a little too weak to travel yet. And believe me when I say that we'll hear about it until the end of time."
Jed smiled benevolently. "I'm sure. If he talks as much as the two of you do..."
"Ainsley claims he's worse, actually," Sam said, shooting an indignant look at his wife.
"He is," she said, nodding seriously.
Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Josh was rushing to them. "Guys! How are you doing?"
Sam smiled despite himself, feeling a little more relaxed. He and Josh hadn't talked much in the past few months, but Josh seemed genuinely happy to see them, too.
His apprehension began to diminish.
A little.
**********
Once everyone was settled in the living room, a drink in one hand, a sandwich in the other ("You all need to eat more," the First Lady had said firmly, and no one had had the guts to argue), the discussion began rolling, with an update on both friends long gone, and everyone's projects.
"So Sam is now governor," Josh said.
Sam shot him a dire look. "I haven't been sworn in yet," he said. "So, please, no tempting fate."
Toby gave a wicked smile. "I see someone finally decided to listen to that piece of advice," he said, looking very pleased with himself.
"Toby will work on New York's Mayor team," Josh went on, ignoring Toby's comments.
Sam, feeling his friend was up to something, looked curiously at Toby, who shrugged. Josh hadn't told anyone what he was going to do yet. He had joked that it was a secret, that they would learn soon enough, that it was big, that it would be worth the wait.
If the smile Josh was wearing right now was any indication, it seemed like the time had come.
"And you'll be doing...?" Sam asked.
"CJ has been hired as a PR consultant by, who was it already?" Josh asked, ignoring him.
"The Minority Leader, Josh," CJ answered in a long suffering tone. "And you didn't answer Sam."
"Yes, I wanted to make an impression."
"We're all waiting Joshua," Bartlet said.
"See, it's kind of big for me."
"I'm still the President," Bartlet added. "I can still fire you. Technically."
"I've been approached by - "
"Will you spill it while we're still alive, or what?" Ainsley asked, exasperated.
"Well, if you'd let me talk..."
"Go ahead," Toby growled.
"I'm going to be working for the Minority Leader. As his chief of staff," Josh finally said, and the silence that followed was broken by CJ, asking "So that means that I'll be working..."
"For me, again, yes," he said brightly, and Sam almost laughed at CJ's face - a mixture of joy, annoyance, horror, and a few emotions he couldn't quite identify.
He was glad for his friend. This kind of job would give him a lot of power, possibly even more than he had at the White House. He would be at the heart of the fight, and that kind of place suited him well.
"Why the secret?" Toby asked.
"Because for years, I've heard nothing but, 'You can't keep secrets', and I wanted to get back at you."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "And was it worth the suffering you endured, not being able to tell us?" he asked sarcastically.
Josh shrugged. "Well, it would have been if someone had, you know, congratulated me."
Sam laughed. "As if you didn't know... Congratulations," he said, sincerely.
After a few more rounds of congratulations, the conversation resumed. Sam told the others that he had heard from Cathy. She was now working in a law firm, in New York. No, not Gage Whitney. She was engaged. Yes, she seemed happy.
"Speaking of which," Leo said, and everyone turned to him expectantly. The chief of staff had already announced that he would retire from politics, and possibly go back to Boston. His roots were there, he said, and he wanted to go back to his hometown. Besides, Mallory had moved there, and he wanted to be close to her. "Mallory called me a few days ago. She's getting married, next June."
Sam didn't miss the way the mood subtly changed in the room - nor the way his friends shot him quick glances before looking away. He met Ainsley's glance, and rolled his eyes, to show her that he wasn't totally oblivious to that little game. It was a bittersweet moment, he thought, as the news concerning people who had once belonged to your life often is. Especially when you weren't even sure under what category you should classify the relationship you had shared with them.
"A few days ago!" Bartlet roared. "Why wasn't I told earlier that my niece was going to get married?"
"Because I needed time to swallow the fact that I don't even know my future in-law," Leo growled, in his 'don't ask' voice, and everyone proceeded to tease him and his overprotective father tendencies.
"Hey, look at the bright side, it's not me," Sam joked.
Leo muttered to him "Wouldn't have been that bad," softly enough that most of the people in the room didn't hear it.
Sam smiled at Leo, to show him he appreciated it. Leo nodded back, not adding anything.
Sam leaned back on the couch, carefully stretching out his leg. It was beginning to protest - probably a consequence of the long hours spent in the plane, then the car.
He was relieved that no one seemed to harbor hard feelings towards him. Of course, he had seen them over the last years. Of course, lots of water had gone under the bridge. Yet, he had been nervous.
* Slightly * nervous.
**********
2002
In the years following his resignation, many people had asked Sam why he had left the administration.
He would often answer that it had been a long-thought-out decision, which was true. He also said that it had nothing to do with burn out, which was only half true, and that he couldn't even remember when he had come to the decision, which was a complete lie.
It had been after a speech. Toby had been busy elsewhere, and Sam had written it all by himself, then modified it according to Bruno's remarks, then rewritten it according to the President's demands, then rewritten it because he didn't like it.
It felt flat, lifeless.
He strung words together, they formed coherent sentences, which formed coherent paragraphs, which formed a coherent speech, and yet, Sam couldn't breathe life into the speech.
The President had delivered it as it was, because there was no time to rewrite the whole thing again.
Sam had been in the room, and he hadn't blamed the audience when they hadn't risen to their feet at the end.
Toby hadn't said anything to him. CJ had shot him a vague, "You'll get it next time." Bruno had fumed at him for half an hour, saying that it was bad writing, only leaving after realizing that Sam already knew all that and didn't need to be reminded of it.
The speech wasn't the only reason he left, of course. The fact that the President had lied to him had played a role too. The fact that he had lost his voice on the staff had also factored in his decision. The fact that his friendship with Josh was now a painful memory had played a part. The realization that he was losing himself, that he was beginning to hate his job, that he was beginning to lose even the will to move on had been crucial too.
The speech was just the last straw.
When he got back home that night, he knew he was going to leave. Not the next day, of course, but soon.
"Why?" Ainsley had asked.
He hadn't really known how to explain it, this fatigue that made every move painful, this feeling that he didn't have anything left to say for Bartlet, this fear of being stuck in a job he wasn't good at anymore.
He needed something new. He needed new challenges. He needed to work for someone who wouldn't disappoint him like the President had. He needed to work with people who wouldn't have been close to him, so that he wouldn't be hurt by their indifference now.
But to the people he barely knew, he didn't say any of that. Just, that he had done all he could for the administration and had been offered a job he couldn't refuse.
He had heard rumors, saying that he had snapped under the pressure, and hadn't done anything to correct them. It wasn't entirely false. But he still found it strange that people could think that he had been too burned out to still work for the President, but didn't think twice of his joining the Governor's team.
He had examined carefully the job offers thrown his way here and there for quite some time before the speech. Each time he felt about to snap, each time he received yet another subpoena, each time he was asked "But didn't you know? How could you not know?" he thought that he had a way out, that if he really wanted to, he could leave.
He didn't, because he didn't want to be seen as the guy who turned his back on his friends. He didn't leave, because he didn't want to * be * the guy who turned his back on his friends.
Besides, some part of him told him that he knew what Bartlet had been trying to do. It didn't stop him from being mad, of course, but he could at least understand the reasons behind the lies. And with time, he knew he would forgive. It had seemed impossible on the night the President had called him into the Oval to tell him everything, but time was beginning to work its magic, and the worst of Sam's reaction was now tempered with understanding.
None of this changed the fact that he had lost his spark. He knew he would forgive Bartlet eventually, but for now he still resented him, and he couldn't work well under those circumstances.
Which hadn't made the decision to leave easier - nor the conversations he had had to have with his bosses.
**********
2002 - Two weeks later
"Is there anything else?" Bartlet asked, and the members of the staff shook their heads. "Good, get to work then."
As the staff left the office, Leo staying behind for a few minutes, Sam lingered near Charlie's desk. Toby shot him a curious look, but CJ was explaining something to him and he didn't stop to ask.
"Can I do something for you?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, I... will he have a few moments today?"
Charlie frowned a little but didn't ask anything. It was part of his job, Sam reflected - not ask too many questions, be discreet, almost invisible if need be.
"He'll have fifteen minutes in the afternoon, but you know how his schedule can change. Is it urgent?"
Sam pondered that. Was it urgent? Not yet, he supposed, but he needed to talk to the President in the week if he was to accept the job, the Governor had made that clear.
"It's not a life or death matter, but I'd really appreciate five minutes," Sam finally said.
Charlie nodded. "Okay, I'll call you when he's free."
"Thanks."
Sam made his way to the communications bullpen, trying to prepare what he would say. He was having trouble grasping the concept : he was resigning.
The letter was typed, printed, signed, and it wasn't like all those letters born from his bitterness last year, the ones that ended by listing all the ways Bartlet had ruined his idealism. No, this one was professional, to-the-point. Real.
Now, he just had to sell it.
He didn't know what to expect, that was unnerving. Would Bartlet try to refuse, try to convince him that he was still needed? Or would he be relieved to see Sam go? He had to have noticed that his speechwriter hadn't been on top of his game recently. Or had he? After all, the State of the Union had been acclaimed by the entire staff. It was just Sam who had hated it. It was just Sam who had tried to revive some of his ideals in it. And failed.
Sighing, he sat down, and got to work.
**********
Seven hours later
"Sam, Charlie told me you wanted to see me," Bartlet greeted.
Charlie had finally called Sam a few minutes ago, explaining that the day had been busy. Sam expected that, the president was always busy, and he had specified that it wasn't urgent.
It was a decision that would change his life, yes, but it wasn't... urgent.
On the other hand, he would have preferred to talk to the president at a time when he wasn't ready to go back to the residence, tired after a long day, and maybe in a bad mood.
"Thanks for taking the time to see me, sir," he said, trying to make his voice steady.
"Not at all, Sam. Sit down," he said amicably.
Sam sat and the President joined him on the opposite couch.
"So?" Bartlet asked, obviously already on the way home.
"Sir... I've been receiving..."
He stopped and cursed himself for his inability to get on with it.
"Sam?" Bartlet asked, slightly impatient now.
"Sir, the Governor from California offered me a job on his staff," Sam blurted out.
Bartlet eyed him suspiciously. "So?" he asked. "I assume it's not the first time you've had an offer from someone who wants to hire you. Hell, I'd be surprised if you didn't get several offers a day."
"No, it's not. I... I decided to accept it, sir."
There, he'd said it.
Bartlet looked at him for a while, then sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"Sir?" Sam asked.
"I've always known one of you would go eventually..." he said softly.
"Sir?" Sam insisted.
"Is it because of the..." the President gestured vaguely, and Sam shook his head.
"No. Well, not only because of that. I've... Sir, it's no secret I haven't been happy with my job for some time now."
"I could convince you to stay," Bartlet said. "I could order you to stay."
"I'd really rather you didn't, sir," Sam said.
"Why?"
"Because it wouldn't change my decision. And because I'd resent it."
Bartlet nodded, smiling bitterly. "Why now?" he asked. "I was hoping, now that the censure is out of the way, we would..."
He didn't say 'go back to normal', to Sam's relief. He didn't know if he could have handled that.
"Sir... I don't know how it happened, I think it was probably around the time you disclosed your condition, but... I think no one listens to my advice anymore, and you, and Toby, deserve someone who's able to make his voice heard."
"I listened to you on the State of the Union."
"I agreed with you on the State of the Union. And it's not just... when's the last time anything I said was taken seriously?" Sam asked, hoping his voice wasn't as challenging as his words.
"So that's what it's all about? Why not talk about it and - "
Sam shook his head. "You're free to see it as some case of bruised ego, and I'll admit that there is some of that, but it's not all. Sir, if you don't listen to what I have to say, I don't see the point of keeping me on the payroll. And I'm sorry to point that out, but it's been a while since I've agreed with anything that came out of the Communications Bullpen. You need someone more focussed, someone who will be able to, I don't know... write you convincingly."
"You could stay, and try to take it a little longer. Maybe things will get better."
Sam shook his head, looking at the President in the eyes. He didn't want to stay. He had lost the energy to try to make it better. He had lost the energy to be the voice of dissension. Bartlet had always claimed that he appreciated hearing opposite sides of an issue, but unfortunately, that was all he did now - he heard them, he didn't consider them.
He didn't say it aloud, but Bartlet seemed to hear it anyway, and his face darkened.
"Do you have a letter?" Bartlet asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you give it to Leo yet?"
Sam shook his head. "I wanted to tell you first."
"Thanks," Bartlet said dryly. "I assume you're taking Ainsley with you?"
Something in the way he said it made Sam bristle, but he simply nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Fine. When do you want to leave?"
"The Governor gave me two months to start work," he said. "I don't know anything besides that."
"Whatever. I'm going to the Residence," Bartlet said, and Sam rose with him.
"Good luck," Bartlet said, not looking at him.
Sam nodded, biting his lips, and left the room, eager to go home.
**********
When he arrived at Ainsley's place that night, he was drained. Ainsley saw the way he entered the apartment and she sighed.
He'd done it, then.
She looked at him while he stared at the couch as if he'd never seen that particular piece of furniture before, and she went to him, took off his coat and guided him to the bedroom, fearing he wouldn't be able to stand up again if he sat on the couch.
He collapsed on the bed bonelessly and she lay down next to him.
"Are you all right?" she asked, and he mumbled something into the pillow.
"What was that?" she asked gently.
"'M fine," he said.
"Did you - "
"I talked to the President."
"How did he..." She trailed off, not knowing how to phrase it.
"He didn't really take it well."
He sighed, and she rubbed a hand on his back comfortingly.
"So we're doing it, then?" she asked rhetorically. "We're moving to California?"
"Mmh."
She smiled. She loved Sam when he was slightly drowsy, trying to bury himself into the bed. She continued to rub his back slightly until his breathing had evened out, and she looked at him for a while.
Their relationship hadn't surprised anyone at the White House. Everyone had seen that the two of them had clicked, in spite of their diverging opinions - or maybe because of them. Most women on the staff complained that they were working with machos, with men who didn't feel comfortable with women who spoke their minds, sometimes vigorously so. In fact, they all knew it was just talk. Most of the men around them enjoyed the discussions they all had. Simply, they were male, and they tended to feel a little embarrassed when they had their asses kicked by a woman.
Ainsley had to admit that Sam wasn't different in that regard. He hadn't taken her beating him on Capitol Beat well, but she knew, and more importantly, he knew, that it was mostly a blow to his ego. It wasn't as if he had resented her, and he was usually big enough to admit it when she had a point, when he had to concede an argument .
She also had to admit that he had always been, well, nice to her. Once he had gotten past his resentment at her having been hired because she had embarrassed him on television, he had made a point of making her feel welcome. Part of it, she knew, was because he didn't want her to think he held grudges. Part of it, he had admitted to her later, was because he hadn't acted like he should have when she had arrived, and that hadn't been professional of him.
Whatever the reason, he had kept an eye on her to make sure she was fine, and she appreciated that.
Shortly after the State of the Union, they had begun to work on a project Leo had assigned to them. Each had argued his case to the death, and they had found out that they made a good team. They challenged each other. They pushed the other to do better. They liked arguing together.
After they had been done, she had noticed he dropped by more and more often, sometimes to ask her what she thought about an issue, sometimes just to chat. Then, one day, he had invited her to the restaurant.
"Are you asking me on a date?" she had asked.
"Looks that way," he had answered, not looking too sure of himself.
"You? And me? On a date?"
"Well, yeah. Unless you don't want to..."
"It's just... you and me?"
He had rolled his eyes then. "Look, I was just asking, if you don't want to go eat, fine."
She had thought, fast. He was cute, he was nice - a little arrogant, yes, but hey, he was a politician - single, and he didn't seem to be the criminal kind. Okay, so he was a democrat, but at least, she knew he would talk about other things than the last movie he had seen, and how hot the women on the last soap opera were.
"Sure, I'll come," she had agreed.
Just in case there was something worth exploring there.
The diner had gone remarkably well, once the initial awkwardness had gone away. They had tacitly stayed away from politics, knowing that a heated debate in the restaurant would inevitably call attention to them, which was the last thing they wanted. They had compared their experiences in law school, agreeing that the last year had been the worst, then of their first jobs in law firms, of the first cases they had tried, of the first they had won.
He had driven her back at her place, and asked her out again. "I've had a great time," he had said.
"Me too."
"Are you free tomorrow?"
She was.
They had dated discreetly for a while, not wanting to draw attention to themselves until they knew for sure what they wanted. Then Sam had brought the topic up. "Look, I think ... I don't know about you, but I'd like to get more serious."
She had frowned a little. Was he talking about sex? They hadn't slept together yet, ignoring the third date rule, and she didn't know how she was supposed to take it.
"If we want to keep seeing each other, I think we should tell CJ," he had added.
"Why?"
"Because if a journalist asks her if we're a couple, and she doesn't know what to say, she'll kill me. Slowly. She will, she made a vow a while ago."
She smiled, then asked, "Are we a couple?"
"I have no clue what we are. I'd sure love to find out."
They had talked to CJ the next day. The press secretary had rolled her eyes, asked Sam why he couldn't just date a nice girl he'd met outside the building, and he had shrugged a little. "What do you want me to say... Besides, it's not like Bonnie didn't pull up a poll on us."
CJ had looked vaguely uncomfortable, and Sam had laughed softly. "Oh, I see. How much did you lose?"
"None of your business. Okay, I'll deal with the press when they get wind of it."
It had been faster than they had expected, and when the news that they were an item reached their coworkers, they had had to endure their share of jokes and well wishes.
Not that they minded. The people could think what they wanted, they were exploring their relationship and trying to figure out where it was headed. They didn't need to have their lives scrutinized by people who would wonder what they even saw in each other in the first place.
One year later, they had found a way to live together, to keep their professional and personal lives separated - not always easy, granted - and to argue politics while still be happy together.
And now, here they were, about to leave Washington to begin anew elsewhere.
She didn't doubt for a second that they were serious, she didn't doubt that he would make her happy, but sometimes she was frightened to realize that she was going to follow him to the other side of the country. They weren't married, they weren't even engaged. It was a leap of faith for her, following him. She didn't doubt that he sincerely loved her, she didn't doubt that he would propose eventually, but it was still taking a big step.
She had seen this coming, though - he had taken Bartlet's lies awfully badly, especially after the news of his father's infidelity, and the fact that he was being ostracized by the rest of the staff hadn't helped matters. He wasn't happy here anymore. He felt he was losing his inspiration, he felt he was becoming 'rusty' as he had put it. He needed to write in a new voice.
She would miss the White House, but thinking about it, she couldn't imagine staying without him.
Smiling, she came back to the present. She hoped that things would turn out well between them. If they didn't, she'd come back. Or move back to Carolina. Or go work in New York. She had a choice, she reminded herself. She wasn't a desperate woman clinging to her man because she needed a male to reassure her. She was fully independent, thank you very much.
She just didn't like the idea of going to work everyday in the White House, without him. It wouldn't be fun, she decided.
Shaking herself off, she quickly undressed. She was exhausted, and more than ready to join Sam in sleep. Seeing that he was fast asleep, she removed his clothes and crept in next to him, drawing the covers over them both.
PART ONE
2006, New Hampshire
"Do you think he'll be there?"
Ainsley sighed. She loved Sam, she did, but he tended to be tiresome when he was anxious, and he had been anxious for days now.
They were on the road to Bartlet's farm, for a gathering of the former senior staff, the first 'post-administration reunion', as Donna had put it. Technically, the President still had to clear up his office, but the transition was well-advanced now. From what Toby had said, they felt gone already, even though they were still officially working there.
Abbey had called Sam and Ainsley to ask if they would be able to make it. It was a tight thing - Sam had just been elected Governor, and they were busy with a transition of their own. On the other hand, they would be even busier in a few weeks, and she knew that Sam missed his colleagues.
She also knew he had... insecurities about what they thought of him - the circumstances surrounding his leaving hadn't been ideal, to say the least. She hoped this reunion would help him work on that.
Keeping her eyes on the deserted road, she answered, "You heard what Abbey said. You know as much as I do."
"I know, it's just..."
...that he was nervous at the idea of seeing them again, yes, she knew that. A lot had happened in the last four years. They had all changed, and it would probably make for a weird reunion. She hoped the weirdness wouldn't last, though. They deserved some good time between friends.
"Here we are," she said, as the farm appeared, and she maneuvered to park her car beside the other ones. Jed was already walking towards them, smiling widely.
Ainsley shot a look to Sam, and he looked back at her, uncertain.
"You okay?"
He nodded. "Let's go," he said, extricating himself from his seat.
************
President Bartlet (Jed, Sam tried to correct mentally, but it didn't ring quite right) hugged him fiercely, whispering "God, I'm happy to see you."
"Thank you, sir." He smiled. Then grimaced as the President eyed him tersely.
"You'll have to lose that habit, Governor," Bartlet said.
"Yes... Jed," he forced out. You obviously didn't shake off years of conditioned answers easily, he reflected.
Jed accepted his attempt, nodding softly. "We'll work on that. You look good."
Sam smiled. "So do you, si - Jed."
Jed shook his head with a look of reproof, turned to Ainsley and took her in his arms.
Sam almost laughed at the face his wife pulled, horribly intimidated. He didn't, though, because she had ways to exact revenge and he didn't want to bring her wrath upon him.
"Thank you, sir," she said.
"Try again," Jed said.
"Thank you, Jed."
"Better," he said. "I'll teach you, you'll see."
They both nodded politely. Sam had the feeling that it was going to take time before any of them could address Bartlet as "Jed" but he didn't doubt that the President would try to convert them.
"Where's Alex?" Jed asked.
"We left him with Mom, he caught a bad cold," Sam said. "He was a little too weak to travel yet. And believe me when I say that we'll hear about it until the end of time."
Jed smiled benevolently. "I'm sure. If he talks as much as the two of you do..."
"Ainsley claims he's worse, actually," Sam said, shooting an indignant look at his wife.
"He is," she said, nodding seriously.
Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Josh was rushing to them. "Guys! How are you doing?"
Sam smiled despite himself, feeling a little more relaxed. He and Josh hadn't talked much in the past few months, but Josh seemed genuinely happy to see them, too.
His apprehension began to diminish.
A little.
**********
Once everyone was settled in the living room, a drink in one hand, a sandwich in the other ("You all need to eat more," the First Lady had said firmly, and no one had had the guts to argue), the discussion began rolling, with an update on both friends long gone, and everyone's projects.
"So Sam is now governor," Josh said.
Sam shot him a dire look. "I haven't been sworn in yet," he said. "So, please, no tempting fate."
Toby gave a wicked smile. "I see someone finally decided to listen to that piece of advice," he said, looking very pleased with himself.
"Toby will work on New York's Mayor team," Josh went on, ignoring Toby's comments.
Sam, feeling his friend was up to something, looked curiously at Toby, who shrugged. Josh hadn't told anyone what he was going to do yet. He had joked that it was a secret, that they would learn soon enough, that it was big, that it would be worth the wait.
If the smile Josh was wearing right now was any indication, it seemed like the time had come.
"And you'll be doing...?" Sam asked.
"CJ has been hired as a PR consultant by, who was it already?" Josh asked, ignoring him.
"The Minority Leader, Josh," CJ answered in a long suffering tone. "And you didn't answer Sam."
"Yes, I wanted to make an impression."
"We're all waiting Joshua," Bartlet said.
"See, it's kind of big for me."
"I'm still the President," Bartlet added. "I can still fire you. Technically."
"I've been approached by - "
"Will you spill it while we're still alive, or what?" Ainsley asked, exasperated.
"Well, if you'd let me talk..."
"Go ahead," Toby growled.
"I'm going to be working for the Minority Leader. As his chief of staff," Josh finally said, and the silence that followed was broken by CJ, asking "So that means that I'll be working..."
"For me, again, yes," he said brightly, and Sam almost laughed at CJ's face - a mixture of joy, annoyance, horror, and a few emotions he couldn't quite identify.
He was glad for his friend. This kind of job would give him a lot of power, possibly even more than he had at the White House. He would be at the heart of the fight, and that kind of place suited him well.
"Why the secret?" Toby asked.
"Because for years, I've heard nothing but, 'You can't keep secrets', and I wanted to get back at you."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "And was it worth the suffering you endured, not being able to tell us?" he asked sarcastically.
Josh shrugged. "Well, it would have been if someone had, you know, congratulated me."
Sam laughed. "As if you didn't know... Congratulations," he said, sincerely.
After a few more rounds of congratulations, the conversation resumed. Sam told the others that he had heard from Cathy. She was now working in a law firm, in New York. No, not Gage Whitney. She was engaged. Yes, she seemed happy.
"Speaking of which," Leo said, and everyone turned to him expectantly. The chief of staff had already announced that he would retire from politics, and possibly go back to Boston. His roots were there, he said, and he wanted to go back to his hometown. Besides, Mallory had moved there, and he wanted to be close to her. "Mallory called me a few days ago. She's getting married, next June."
Sam didn't miss the way the mood subtly changed in the room - nor the way his friends shot him quick glances before looking away. He met Ainsley's glance, and rolled his eyes, to show her that he wasn't totally oblivious to that little game. It was a bittersweet moment, he thought, as the news concerning people who had once belonged to your life often is. Especially when you weren't even sure under what category you should classify the relationship you had shared with them.
"A few days ago!" Bartlet roared. "Why wasn't I told earlier that my niece was going to get married?"
"Because I needed time to swallow the fact that I don't even know my future in-law," Leo growled, in his 'don't ask' voice, and everyone proceeded to tease him and his overprotective father tendencies.
"Hey, look at the bright side, it's not me," Sam joked.
Leo muttered to him "Wouldn't have been that bad," softly enough that most of the people in the room didn't hear it.
Sam smiled at Leo, to show him he appreciated it. Leo nodded back, not adding anything.
Sam leaned back on the couch, carefully stretching out his leg. It was beginning to protest - probably a consequence of the long hours spent in the plane, then the car.
He was relieved that no one seemed to harbor hard feelings towards him. Of course, he had seen them over the last years. Of course, lots of water had gone under the bridge. Yet, he had been nervous.
* Slightly * nervous.
**********
2002
In the years following his resignation, many people had asked Sam why he had left the administration.
He would often answer that it had been a long-thought-out decision, which was true. He also said that it had nothing to do with burn out, which was only half true, and that he couldn't even remember when he had come to the decision, which was a complete lie.
It had been after a speech. Toby had been busy elsewhere, and Sam had written it all by himself, then modified it according to Bruno's remarks, then rewritten it according to the President's demands, then rewritten it because he didn't like it.
It felt flat, lifeless.
He strung words together, they formed coherent sentences, which formed coherent paragraphs, which formed a coherent speech, and yet, Sam couldn't breathe life into the speech.
The President had delivered it as it was, because there was no time to rewrite the whole thing again.
Sam had been in the room, and he hadn't blamed the audience when they hadn't risen to their feet at the end.
Toby hadn't said anything to him. CJ had shot him a vague, "You'll get it next time." Bruno had fumed at him for half an hour, saying that it was bad writing, only leaving after realizing that Sam already knew all that and didn't need to be reminded of it.
The speech wasn't the only reason he left, of course. The fact that the President had lied to him had played a role too. The fact that he had lost his voice on the staff had also factored in his decision. The fact that his friendship with Josh was now a painful memory had played a part. The realization that he was losing himself, that he was beginning to hate his job, that he was beginning to lose even the will to move on had been crucial too.
The speech was just the last straw.
When he got back home that night, he knew he was going to leave. Not the next day, of course, but soon.
"Why?" Ainsley had asked.
He hadn't really known how to explain it, this fatigue that made every move painful, this feeling that he didn't have anything left to say for Bartlet, this fear of being stuck in a job he wasn't good at anymore.
He needed something new. He needed new challenges. He needed to work for someone who wouldn't disappoint him like the President had. He needed to work with people who wouldn't have been close to him, so that he wouldn't be hurt by their indifference now.
But to the people he barely knew, he didn't say any of that. Just, that he had done all he could for the administration and had been offered a job he couldn't refuse.
He had heard rumors, saying that he had snapped under the pressure, and hadn't done anything to correct them. It wasn't entirely false. But he still found it strange that people could think that he had been too burned out to still work for the President, but didn't think twice of his joining the Governor's team.
He had examined carefully the job offers thrown his way here and there for quite some time before the speech. Each time he felt about to snap, each time he received yet another subpoena, each time he was asked "But didn't you know? How could you not know?" he thought that he had a way out, that if he really wanted to, he could leave.
He didn't, because he didn't want to be seen as the guy who turned his back on his friends. He didn't leave, because he didn't want to * be * the guy who turned his back on his friends.
Besides, some part of him told him that he knew what Bartlet had been trying to do. It didn't stop him from being mad, of course, but he could at least understand the reasons behind the lies. And with time, he knew he would forgive. It had seemed impossible on the night the President had called him into the Oval to tell him everything, but time was beginning to work its magic, and the worst of Sam's reaction was now tempered with understanding.
None of this changed the fact that he had lost his spark. He knew he would forgive Bartlet eventually, but for now he still resented him, and he couldn't work well under those circumstances.
Which hadn't made the decision to leave easier - nor the conversations he had had to have with his bosses.
**********
2002 - Two weeks later
"Is there anything else?" Bartlet asked, and the members of the staff shook their heads. "Good, get to work then."
As the staff left the office, Leo staying behind for a few minutes, Sam lingered near Charlie's desk. Toby shot him a curious look, but CJ was explaining something to him and he didn't stop to ask.
"Can I do something for you?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, I... will he have a few moments today?"
Charlie frowned a little but didn't ask anything. It was part of his job, Sam reflected - not ask too many questions, be discreet, almost invisible if need be.
"He'll have fifteen minutes in the afternoon, but you know how his schedule can change. Is it urgent?"
Sam pondered that. Was it urgent? Not yet, he supposed, but he needed to talk to the President in the week if he was to accept the job, the Governor had made that clear.
"It's not a life or death matter, but I'd really appreciate five minutes," Sam finally said.
Charlie nodded. "Okay, I'll call you when he's free."
"Thanks."
Sam made his way to the communications bullpen, trying to prepare what he would say. He was having trouble grasping the concept : he was resigning.
The letter was typed, printed, signed, and it wasn't like all those letters born from his bitterness last year, the ones that ended by listing all the ways Bartlet had ruined his idealism. No, this one was professional, to-the-point. Real.
Now, he just had to sell it.
He didn't know what to expect, that was unnerving. Would Bartlet try to refuse, try to convince him that he was still needed? Or would he be relieved to see Sam go? He had to have noticed that his speechwriter hadn't been on top of his game recently. Or had he? After all, the State of the Union had been acclaimed by the entire staff. It was just Sam who had hated it. It was just Sam who had tried to revive some of his ideals in it. And failed.
Sighing, he sat down, and got to work.
**********
Seven hours later
"Sam, Charlie told me you wanted to see me," Bartlet greeted.
Charlie had finally called Sam a few minutes ago, explaining that the day had been busy. Sam expected that, the president was always busy, and he had specified that it wasn't urgent.
It was a decision that would change his life, yes, but it wasn't... urgent.
On the other hand, he would have preferred to talk to the president at a time when he wasn't ready to go back to the residence, tired after a long day, and maybe in a bad mood.
"Thanks for taking the time to see me, sir," he said, trying to make his voice steady.
"Not at all, Sam. Sit down," he said amicably.
Sam sat and the President joined him on the opposite couch.
"So?" Bartlet asked, obviously already on the way home.
"Sir... I've been receiving..."
He stopped and cursed himself for his inability to get on with it.
"Sam?" Bartlet asked, slightly impatient now.
"Sir, the Governor from California offered me a job on his staff," Sam blurted out.
Bartlet eyed him suspiciously. "So?" he asked. "I assume it's not the first time you've had an offer from someone who wants to hire you. Hell, I'd be surprised if you didn't get several offers a day."
"No, it's not. I... I decided to accept it, sir."
There, he'd said it.
Bartlet looked at him for a while, then sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"Sir?" Sam asked.
"I've always known one of you would go eventually..." he said softly.
"Sir?" Sam insisted.
"Is it because of the..." the President gestured vaguely, and Sam shook his head.
"No. Well, not only because of that. I've... Sir, it's no secret I haven't been happy with my job for some time now."
"I could convince you to stay," Bartlet said. "I could order you to stay."
"I'd really rather you didn't, sir," Sam said.
"Why?"
"Because it wouldn't change my decision. And because I'd resent it."
Bartlet nodded, smiling bitterly. "Why now?" he asked. "I was hoping, now that the censure is out of the way, we would..."
He didn't say 'go back to normal', to Sam's relief. He didn't know if he could have handled that.
"Sir... I don't know how it happened, I think it was probably around the time you disclosed your condition, but... I think no one listens to my advice anymore, and you, and Toby, deserve someone who's able to make his voice heard."
"I listened to you on the State of the Union."
"I agreed with you on the State of the Union. And it's not just... when's the last time anything I said was taken seriously?" Sam asked, hoping his voice wasn't as challenging as his words.
"So that's what it's all about? Why not talk about it and - "
Sam shook his head. "You're free to see it as some case of bruised ego, and I'll admit that there is some of that, but it's not all. Sir, if you don't listen to what I have to say, I don't see the point of keeping me on the payroll. And I'm sorry to point that out, but it's been a while since I've agreed with anything that came out of the Communications Bullpen. You need someone more focussed, someone who will be able to, I don't know... write you convincingly."
"You could stay, and try to take it a little longer. Maybe things will get better."
Sam shook his head, looking at the President in the eyes. He didn't want to stay. He had lost the energy to try to make it better. He had lost the energy to be the voice of dissension. Bartlet had always claimed that he appreciated hearing opposite sides of an issue, but unfortunately, that was all he did now - he heard them, he didn't consider them.
He didn't say it aloud, but Bartlet seemed to hear it anyway, and his face darkened.
"Do you have a letter?" Bartlet asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you give it to Leo yet?"
Sam shook his head. "I wanted to tell you first."
"Thanks," Bartlet said dryly. "I assume you're taking Ainsley with you?"
Something in the way he said it made Sam bristle, but he simply nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Fine. When do you want to leave?"
"The Governor gave me two months to start work," he said. "I don't know anything besides that."
"Whatever. I'm going to the Residence," Bartlet said, and Sam rose with him.
"Good luck," Bartlet said, not looking at him.
Sam nodded, biting his lips, and left the room, eager to go home.
**********
When he arrived at Ainsley's place that night, he was drained. Ainsley saw the way he entered the apartment and she sighed.
He'd done it, then.
She looked at him while he stared at the couch as if he'd never seen that particular piece of furniture before, and she went to him, took off his coat and guided him to the bedroom, fearing he wouldn't be able to stand up again if he sat on the couch.
He collapsed on the bed bonelessly and she lay down next to him.
"Are you all right?" she asked, and he mumbled something into the pillow.
"What was that?" she asked gently.
"'M fine," he said.
"Did you - "
"I talked to the President."
"How did he..." She trailed off, not knowing how to phrase it.
"He didn't really take it well."
He sighed, and she rubbed a hand on his back comfortingly.
"So we're doing it, then?" she asked rhetorically. "We're moving to California?"
"Mmh."
She smiled. She loved Sam when he was slightly drowsy, trying to bury himself into the bed. She continued to rub his back slightly until his breathing had evened out, and she looked at him for a while.
Their relationship hadn't surprised anyone at the White House. Everyone had seen that the two of them had clicked, in spite of their diverging opinions - or maybe because of them. Most women on the staff complained that they were working with machos, with men who didn't feel comfortable with women who spoke their minds, sometimes vigorously so. In fact, they all knew it was just talk. Most of the men around them enjoyed the discussions they all had. Simply, they were male, and they tended to feel a little embarrassed when they had their asses kicked by a woman.
Ainsley had to admit that Sam wasn't different in that regard. He hadn't taken her beating him on Capitol Beat well, but she knew, and more importantly, he knew, that it was mostly a blow to his ego. It wasn't as if he had resented her, and he was usually big enough to admit it when she had a point, when he had to concede an argument .
She also had to admit that he had always been, well, nice to her. Once he had gotten past his resentment at her having been hired because she had embarrassed him on television, he had made a point of making her feel welcome. Part of it, she knew, was because he didn't want her to think he held grudges. Part of it, he had admitted to her later, was because he hadn't acted like he should have when she had arrived, and that hadn't been professional of him.
Whatever the reason, he had kept an eye on her to make sure she was fine, and she appreciated that.
Shortly after the State of the Union, they had begun to work on a project Leo had assigned to them. Each had argued his case to the death, and they had found out that they made a good team. They challenged each other. They pushed the other to do better. They liked arguing together.
After they had been done, she had noticed he dropped by more and more often, sometimes to ask her what she thought about an issue, sometimes just to chat. Then, one day, he had invited her to the restaurant.
"Are you asking me on a date?" she had asked.
"Looks that way," he had answered, not looking too sure of himself.
"You? And me? On a date?"
"Well, yeah. Unless you don't want to..."
"It's just... you and me?"
He had rolled his eyes then. "Look, I was just asking, if you don't want to go eat, fine."
She had thought, fast. He was cute, he was nice - a little arrogant, yes, but hey, he was a politician - single, and he didn't seem to be the criminal kind. Okay, so he was a democrat, but at least, she knew he would talk about other things than the last movie he had seen, and how hot the women on the last soap opera were.
"Sure, I'll come," she had agreed.
Just in case there was something worth exploring there.
The diner had gone remarkably well, once the initial awkwardness had gone away. They had tacitly stayed away from politics, knowing that a heated debate in the restaurant would inevitably call attention to them, which was the last thing they wanted. They had compared their experiences in law school, agreeing that the last year had been the worst, then of their first jobs in law firms, of the first cases they had tried, of the first they had won.
He had driven her back at her place, and asked her out again. "I've had a great time," he had said.
"Me too."
"Are you free tomorrow?"
She was.
They had dated discreetly for a while, not wanting to draw attention to themselves until they knew for sure what they wanted. Then Sam had brought the topic up. "Look, I think ... I don't know about you, but I'd like to get more serious."
She had frowned a little. Was he talking about sex? They hadn't slept together yet, ignoring the third date rule, and she didn't know how she was supposed to take it.
"If we want to keep seeing each other, I think we should tell CJ," he had added.
"Why?"
"Because if a journalist asks her if we're a couple, and she doesn't know what to say, she'll kill me. Slowly. She will, she made a vow a while ago."
She smiled, then asked, "Are we a couple?"
"I have no clue what we are. I'd sure love to find out."
They had talked to CJ the next day. The press secretary had rolled her eyes, asked Sam why he couldn't just date a nice girl he'd met outside the building, and he had shrugged a little. "What do you want me to say... Besides, it's not like Bonnie didn't pull up a poll on us."
CJ had looked vaguely uncomfortable, and Sam had laughed softly. "Oh, I see. How much did you lose?"
"None of your business. Okay, I'll deal with the press when they get wind of it."
It had been faster than they had expected, and when the news that they were an item reached their coworkers, they had had to endure their share of jokes and well wishes.
Not that they minded. The people could think what they wanted, they were exploring their relationship and trying to figure out where it was headed. They didn't need to have their lives scrutinized by people who would wonder what they even saw in each other in the first place.
One year later, they had found a way to live together, to keep their professional and personal lives separated - not always easy, granted - and to argue politics while still be happy together.
And now, here they were, about to leave Washington to begin anew elsewhere.
She didn't doubt for a second that they were serious, she didn't doubt that he would make her happy, but sometimes she was frightened to realize that she was going to follow him to the other side of the country. They weren't married, they weren't even engaged. It was a leap of faith for her, following him. She didn't doubt that he sincerely loved her, she didn't doubt that he would propose eventually, but it was still taking a big step.
She had seen this coming, though - he had taken Bartlet's lies awfully badly, especially after the news of his father's infidelity, and the fact that he was being ostracized by the rest of the staff hadn't helped matters. He wasn't happy here anymore. He felt he was losing his inspiration, he felt he was becoming 'rusty' as he had put it. He needed to write in a new voice.
She would miss the White House, but thinking about it, she couldn't imagine staying without him.
Smiling, she came back to the present. She hoped that things would turn out well between them. If they didn't, she'd come back. Or move back to Carolina. Or go work in New York. She had a choice, she reminded herself. She wasn't a desperate woman clinging to her man because she needed a male to reassure her. She was fully independent, thank you very much.
She just didn't like the idea of going to work everyday in the White House, without him. It wouldn't be fun, she decided.
Shaking herself off, she quickly undressed. She was exhausted, and more than ready to join Sam in sleep. Seeing that he was fast asleep, she removed his clothes and crept in next to him, drawing the covers over them both.