PART FOUR
Later that night
Toby knocked, but didn't wait for an answer. He opened Sam's door and poked his head in. "You okay?"
Sam turned to face him, nodding. "I'm sorry, I just... I thought I could it, but I couldn't, I-"
Toby raised a hand to interrupt the apology he was sure would follow. "Never mind. I told them what was up, basically."
It hadn't been the easiest conversation in his life, he reflected. He'd probably never forget the look of horror that had crossed CJ's features, before anger settled in.
"Where's that guy, now?" she had asked through clenched teeth.
"Dead," Toby had answered and she had nodded. He had the feeling it was a good thing, and not just for Sam's sake.
Josh... Josh hadn't been easy to read. In fact, Toby had no idea what he thought of all this. He hadn't asked anything, he hadn't commented, he had just sat there, listening to what Toby knew of the situation.
In a way, Toby supposed it was a good thing that Sam hadn't been the one to tell them the story. They would have felt the need to censure their reactions for his sake, or worse, they wouldn't have been able to, and Sam could have misinterpreted Josh's silence, or CJ looking like she was about to cry.
But on the other hand... Sam had insisted that he was fine, that he was dealing with it, that he was getting help, but he hid it anyway, and he had gotten too good at it, obviously. If telling his closest friends that he had been abused as a child was unthinkable for him, then he couldn't be as fine as he claimed to be.
"How... How did they take it?"
What did he think? That they had run away screaming? Thinking about it, Toby's heart clenched, realizing that maybe that was exactly what Sam had been thinking.
"Well, I think that if CJ had had a gun and your godfather at hand, he would be dead," he deadpanned.
Sam almost smiled, then asked, "Josh?"
Shit, Toby had hoped he wouldn't ask. "Sam, what do you think they both did?" he asked. "They were horrified that you had had to go through this, they were mad as hell at your godfather, they wanted to know how you were."
"I just..." He trailed off.
"What?"
"I'd have preferred them not to know," Sam sighed.
"I don't doubt that. But, Sam, we're your friends, okay? You're not the one at fault here, no one blames you for anything, so just... If we can do something, please, ask."
He knew it was a long shot, he knew Sam would never admit easily that he needed a hand, but he had to say it. And maybe, just maybe, Sam would finally believe it.
"Sure," Sam said.
Okay, he didn't sound convinced yet, but these things took time. He'd be patient. "Sam, you have to go see them," he said.
Sam began to shake his head and Toby moved farther into the room. "They're worried. Just go tell them you're fine, they'll leave, but..."
"Okay."
Toby made room for him to leave, and followed him to the living room. CJ was sitting on the couch, hugging herself. Josh was nowhere to be seen and Toby grimaced.
Sam was going to assume... he didn't know what Sam was going to assume, but it wouldn't be good, it was certain.
When CJ noticed that they were there, she got to his feet, and looked at Sam, a gentle smile on her face. "You okay, Sam?" she asked.
He nodded, hesitantly. Without giving him an opportunity to step back, she marched to him and took him in her arms. "You shouldn't have gone through this alone," she said.
"Toby pointed that out to me already," Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, I know I should have told you all long ago, I just..." Still in her arms, he waved his arm weakly.
She let go of him and looked him in the eyes. "I won't try to pretend that I know what you're going through, or what it was like. But I can understand why you wanted to keep that to yourself."
"Thanks," he said before looking around. "Where's Josh?"
CJ bit her lower lip and shot a nervous look at Toby before turning back to Sam. "He had to go. He said something about Amy. I'm sure he would - "
"Yeah, right," Sam answered hurriedly. "I just... never mind, it's all right."
'I'm going to kill him,' Toby thought, seeing the same sentiment on CJ's face.
"Do you want something to drink?" Sam asked, looking desperate for something to do.
They both did, and together, they went to the kitchen to fix something to drink.
Three hours later
Toby hadn't been able to fall asleep. He was staring at the TV, bemoaning lack of sleep, his mind too busy running scenarios to rest. Sam had waited until CJ had gone home to go to bed, once Toby had managed to convince him that he wouldn't leave him alone tonight no matter what.
Then Toby had settled on the couch, and was now into hour two of wondering what would happen if the story broke. It angered him to even think about it.
What was wrong about seeking help?
What was wrong about being scarred by something you never asked for, something that had been done to you by a pathetic excuse for a human being?
What the hell was so shameful about seeing a therapist in this day and age?
And while he was at it, why did they think it was their business?
Anyone who had met Sam for more than two minutes had nothing but praise for him, but if the story broke, Toby knew there would be talk of instability, of fitness to do the job, of mental state.
And there he was, getting himself worked up.
He sighed and lay down, but sleep definitely wouldn't come.
Then he heard a small cry from Sam's room and all thoughts of sleep flew from his mind. Getting up as quickly as he could, he rushed to the bedroom, to see Sam struggle against the covers.
Another nightmare.
He suddenly wondered how many of those his friend had had in the years, how many of them he had hidden, even before all this happened.
Now wasn't a good time to speculate about it, though. Rushing to Sam's side, he shook him softly. "Sam, wake up."
Sam's struggling only increased.
"Sam!" Toby yelled, shaking him more forcefully.
Sam's eyes shot open and his arm flew up. Toby backed away quickly and Sam froze, breathing heavily. "Toby?"
"You okay?"
"What did you think you were doing?!" Sam shouted.
"You were having a nightmare," Toby explained.
"And you thought you'd wake me up so I could send someone else to the hospital?"
Sam let his arm drop back on the bed and closed his eyes.
"You wouldn't have - "
"I almost did this time," he cut in sharply. "I did with Josh. Damn it, Toby, next time just leave me alone, okay."
"That's not why I stayed, and you know that," he replied quietly.
"I don't know why you stayed. I don't know why you seem so interested in all this. I don't know what you're expecting from me."
Toby frowned. He had thought it was obvious. "I stayed in case you needed something," he said. "I'm worried about you, and I want you to know that you can turn to me."
"I know that," Sam said softly. "I knew before I told you."
"Yet you never do. Not unless you're already deep inside trouble. Talking helps."
He shrugged. "I have a therapist for that," he said.
"For which I'm grateful. But Sam, seriously, you may need to talk to someone, a friend - "
"Toby, there are just things I won't talk about, okay? I mean, Josh never talked about the shooting, and we left him in peace."
"And I'm still not convinced we did a good thing, but that's besides the point."
Josh wasn't his deputy, Sam was.
"Then what's the point?"
Josh wasn't the closest thing he'd ever have to a best friend, Sam was. He had no idea when or how that had happened, but it was undeniable. He just hoped he wouldn't have to spill it.
"Toby?" Sam asked, looking at him finally.
'Please, don't make me say it,' Toby thought.
Sam seemed to understand and didn't push it further.
"I just..." Toby began, not sure how to say it. "I believe you when you say that you're fine, that you won't try to... you know, that you seek help, but I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to talk about... not so much what he did, not if you don't feel like it, but about what you feel now." He stopped, frustrated. How come he wasn't able to do better than this?
"Oh," Sam said.
"What?"
"I just... I never really thought that I could speak of one without the other," Sam explained.
"Sam, I never believed that everything you are or do is determined by what that man - "
"I do," Sam cut. "And it's not entirely true, but part of it is. I just... I don't know, it's always been so complicated."
"I gathered that," Toby smiled.
"Yeah. And, well, if you must know, my telling you did change things between us, and that's part of the reason I didn't want to tell the others."
"How did it change?" Toby asked indignantly. He never did anything to lead Sam to believe...
"You never yell at me anymore, Toby. You're always, I don't know, nice to me, like you're afraid I'll think that if you yell, it means that you think less of me because of this. Even after the tape thing, you didn't snap."
"You're telling me that you preferred when I was..."
"Gruff, yes. Everyone's noticed something, and it's disturbing to see you nice."
"Okay, let's... Okay." Toby took a breath, then went on, "Okay, for the record, I didn't yell at you after the tape because you were beating yourself up about it more than I could ever have. No one could have been harder on you than you were, Sam. That's the reason I didn't yell."
Sam had sat up and was staring at the covers. "Okay, I guess I can get that. But for the rest..."
"For the rest, you're right, I probably have... changed. I'll grant you that. I didn't do it on purpose, I just thought... you weren't exactly in any shape to take any abuse from me."
He stopped short, grimacing at his use of the word, and Sam sighed again. "Back when I told you, of course I wasn't. But that was months ago."
"Fine, I'll yell more if that's what you want," Toby raised his arms, signaling his surrender.
"Thanks," Sam said. There was a short silence, and Toby nodded and got up.
"'Night."
"Yeah," Sam said. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Toby answered, closing the door behind him.
The next day
White House
Josh was making his way to Sam's office, remembering the withering looks CJ had shot him all morning.
She was pissed at him.
She had every right to be.
He cringed, thinking about how Sam must have felt, coming out of his room to find him gone. He had needed time to let the news sink in, that was all. He didn't feel up to facing Sam back then.
He hadn't known what to say, how to act.
Besides, he had felt guilty. They had been best friends, they were still friends, or at least he hoped so, and he had never suspected. How could he have not suspected? How could he not have noticed the nightmares, the unease Sam displayed sometimes, how could something this huge have evaded him?
Donna would have told him that he was oblivious, but that couldn't be all there was to it.
Maybe he hadn't wanted to know.
After all, how many times had Sam's 'I'm fine' convinced him that he was really fine?
Never.
Yet he had never pushed it, because he was preoccupied by a thousand things, because he was hooked on a new project, because...
Because he hadn't wanted to know.
Arriving at Sam's office, he hesitated a minute before knocking, attracting Sam's attention.
"I come in peace," he tried to joke, lifting the bag containing the Chinese food.
The blank look on Sam's face made him worry. Would his friend even allow him to enter?
"Come in," Sam said coldly.
Josh closed the door, and Sam raised an eyebrow at the unusual gesture.
"I'm sorry," Josh said, putting the bag on the desk. Better get the apology off his chest before he choked on it, he figured. "For not staying yesterday. For being, you know, a lousy friend, and... I just didn't know what to do."
"Okay," Sam said, dropping his glance to the papers he was reading.
"I just... I'm sorry, I didn't know..."
Didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say, and how to reconcile the image of his friend with the ones that had popped in his mind at the words 'sexual abuse'.
"Do you know now?" Sam asked, staring at his desk.
"No."
"You came anyway." Sam was looking up this time, and Josh was startled at the amount of pain he saw in his eyes.
As if he wouldn't have come. As if he would have let Sam alone.
He had, he realized.
"Had you... had you tried to tell me? Before... back when we first became friends, did you?"
"Not really," Sam admitted.
That didn't reassure Josh.
"But?" he pressed on.
"You were easier to avoid than Toby was," Sam said softly. "You always have been."
Josh had thought as much, but it was still a blow to hear it. It must have shown, because Sam hurried to add, "I didn't really * try * Josh. And I'm not sure I'd have told you if you had insisted."
"But I never insisted," Josh completed. Sam was staring down again. "I'm sorry," Josh said.
"You've said that already."
"Yes, well, it bears repeating."
An uncomfortable silence fell on the office. "What... what can I do?" Josh asked when he couldn't take it anymore.
Sam didn't know what to answer. Josh's apologies had been unexpected, and he could see his friend was honestly trying to make amends here, but still...
What could Josh do?
Build him a time travelling machine?
Look at him in the eyes and tell him that nothing had changed?
Tell him that it would never make it to the press, because there was no way he could live through that?
Tell him that his mother would never look as guilty as his father had when he had discovered that he had left his sons in the hands of a sick man?
Tell him that the nightmares would go away, even if he had lived with them for decades now?
Tell him that he would forget what his godfather had done to him eventually?
Could he promise that?
He would never tell any of that to Josh, he knew. It would hurt him, even if he understood. It must have shown on his face anyway, though, because Josh suddenly looked away, seemingly at a loss for words.
It seemed a pretty common reaction, Sam thought.
To alleviate the tension, and maybe restore the status quo, he smiled. "I should be the one apologizing, here. I did send you to the ER."
"It was a bump," Josh said, shaking his head vehemently.
"Still."
"That should teach me," Josh said. "I had enough nightmares after Rosslyn, I should have known better."
Sam nodded. He still wondered how his friend had survived that one. And it suddenly dawned on him that it had been too long since he had last asked him how he was doing.
"I'm fine," Josh shrugged. "You know, some days are better than the others."
He knew, yes.
"How are you?" Josh asked.
Sam swallowed. A simple 'I'm fine' wouldn't cut it this time, but what to say? He didn't even know how he felt. Scared, of course. Self-conscious. Acutely aware of the way people looked at him. Uncertain of what the future would bring, of the way his relationship with his friends would evolve from there.
He shook his head. "I've been better."
Josh nodded. "We're here," he said quietly.
He knew that too, and it was a comfort. It wouldn't be enough if the story made it to a reporter, but as long as things stayed as they were, it would be enough.
Later that night
Toby knocked, but didn't wait for an answer. He opened Sam's door and poked his head in. "You okay?"
Sam turned to face him, nodding. "I'm sorry, I just... I thought I could it, but I couldn't, I-"
Toby raised a hand to interrupt the apology he was sure would follow. "Never mind. I told them what was up, basically."
It hadn't been the easiest conversation in his life, he reflected. He'd probably never forget the look of horror that had crossed CJ's features, before anger settled in.
"Where's that guy, now?" she had asked through clenched teeth.
"Dead," Toby had answered and she had nodded. He had the feeling it was a good thing, and not just for Sam's sake.
Josh... Josh hadn't been easy to read. In fact, Toby had no idea what he thought of all this. He hadn't asked anything, he hadn't commented, he had just sat there, listening to what Toby knew of the situation.
In a way, Toby supposed it was a good thing that Sam hadn't been the one to tell them the story. They would have felt the need to censure their reactions for his sake, or worse, they wouldn't have been able to, and Sam could have misinterpreted Josh's silence, or CJ looking like she was about to cry.
But on the other hand... Sam had insisted that he was fine, that he was dealing with it, that he was getting help, but he hid it anyway, and he had gotten too good at it, obviously. If telling his closest friends that he had been abused as a child was unthinkable for him, then he couldn't be as fine as he claimed to be.
"How... How did they take it?"
What did he think? That they had run away screaming? Thinking about it, Toby's heart clenched, realizing that maybe that was exactly what Sam had been thinking.
"Well, I think that if CJ had had a gun and your godfather at hand, he would be dead," he deadpanned.
Sam almost smiled, then asked, "Josh?"
Shit, Toby had hoped he wouldn't ask. "Sam, what do you think they both did?" he asked. "They were horrified that you had had to go through this, they were mad as hell at your godfather, they wanted to know how you were."
"I just..." He trailed off.
"What?"
"I'd have preferred them not to know," Sam sighed.
"I don't doubt that. But, Sam, we're your friends, okay? You're not the one at fault here, no one blames you for anything, so just... If we can do something, please, ask."
He knew it was a long shot, he knew Sam would never admit easily that he needed a hand, but he had to say it. And maybe, just maybe, Sam would finally believe it.
"Sure," Sam said.
Okay, he didn't sound convinced yet, but these things took time. He'd be patient. "Sam, you have to go see them," he said.
Sam began to shake his head and Toby moved farther into the room. "They're worried. Just go tell them you're fine, they'll leave, but..."
"Okay."
Toby made room for him to leave, and followed him to the living room. CJ was sitting on the couch, hugging herself. Josh was nowhere to be seen and Toby grimaced.
Sam was going to assume... he didn't know what Sam was going to assume, but it wouldn't be good, it was certain.
When CJ noticed that they were there, she got to his feet, and looked at Sam, a gentle smile on her face. "You okay, Sam?" she asked.
He nodded, hesitantly. Without giving him an opportunity to step back, she marched to him and took him in her arms. "You shouldn't have gone through this alone," she said.
"Toby pointed that out to me already," Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, I know I should have told you all long ago, I just..." Still in her arms, he waved his arm weakly.
She let go of him and looked him in the eyes. "I won't try to pretend that I know what you're going through, or what it was like. But I can understand why you wanted to keep that to yourself."
"Thanks," he said before looking around. "Where's Josh?"
CJ bit her lower lip and shot a nervous look at Toby before turning back to Sam. "He had to go. He said something about Amy. I'm sure he would - "
"Yeah, right," Sam answered hurriedly. "I just... never mind, it's all right."
'I'm going to kill him,' Toby thought, seeing the same sentiment on CJ's face.
"Do you want something to drink?" Sam asked, looking desperate for something to do.
They both did, and together, they went to the kitchen to fix something to drink.
Three hours later
Toby hadn't been able to fall asleep. He was staring at the TV, bemoaning lack of sleep, his mind too busy running scenarios to rest. Sam had waited until CJ had gone home to go to bed, once Toby had managed to convince him that he wouldn't leave him alone tonight no matter what.
Then Toby had settled on the couch, and was now into hour two of wondering what would happen if the story broke. It angered him to even think about it.
What was wrong about seeking help?
What was wrong about being scarred by something you never asked for, something that had been done to you by a pathetic excuse for a human being?
What the hell was so shameful about seeing a therapist in this day and age?
And while he was at it, why did they think it was their business?
Anyone who had met Sam for more than two minutes had nothing but praise for him, but if the story broke, Toby knew there would be talk of instability, of fitness to do the job, of mental state.
And there he was, getting himself worked up.
He sighed and lay down, but sleep definitely wouldn't come.
Then he heard a small cry from Sam's room and all thoughts of sleep flew from his mind. Getting up as quickly as he could, he rushed to the bedroom, to see Sam struggle against the covers.
Another nightmare.
He suddenly wondered how many of those his friend had had in the years, how many of them he had hidden, even before all this happened.
Now wasn't a good time to speculate about it, though. Rushing to Sam's side, he shook him softly. "Sam, wake up."
Sam's struggling only increased.
"Sam!" Toby yelled, shaking him more forcefully.
Sam's eyes shot open and his arm flew up. Toby backed away quickly and Sam froze, breathing heavily. "Toby?"
"You okay?"
"What did you think you were doing?!" Sam shouted.
"You were having a nightmare," Toby explained.
"And you thought you'd wake me up so I could send someone else to the hospital?"
Sam let his arm drop back on the bed and closed his eyes.
"You wouldn't have - "
"I almost did this time," he cut in sharply. "I did with Josh. Damn it, Toby, next time just leave me alone, okay."
"That's not why I stayed, and you know that," he replied quietly.
"I don't know why you stayed. I don't know why you seem so interested in all this. I don't know what you're expecting from me."
Toby frowned. He had thought it was obvious. "I stayed in case you needed something," he said. "I'm worried about you, and I want you to know that you can turn to me."
"I know that," Sam said softly. "I knew before I told you."
"Yet you never do. Not unless you're already deep inside trouble. Talking helps."
He shrugged. "I have a therapist for that," he said.
"For which I'm grateful. But Sam, seriously, you may need to talk to someone, a friend - "
"Toby, there are just things I won't talk about, okay? I mean, Josh never talked about the shooting, and we left him in peace."
"And I'm still not convinced we did a good thing, but that's besides the point."
Josh wasn't his deputy, Sam was.
"Then what's the point?"
Josh wasn't the closest thing he'd ever have to a best friend, Sam was. He had no idea when or how that had happened, but it was undeniable. He just hoped he wouldn't have to spill it.
"Toby?" Sam asked, looking at him finally.
'Please, don't make me say it,' Toby thought.
Sam seemed to understand and didn't push it further.
"I just..." Toby began, not sure how to say it. "I believe you when you say that you're fine, that you won't try to... you know, that you seek help, but I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to talk about... not so much what he did, not if you don't feel like it, but about what you feel now." He stopped, frustrated. How come he wasn't able to do better than this?
"Oh," Sam said.
"What?"
"I just... I never really thought that I could speak of one without the other," Sam explained.
"Sam, I never believed that everything you are or do is determined by what that man - "
"I do," Sam cut. "And it's not entirely true, but part of it is. I just... I don't know, it's always been so complicated."
"I gathered that," Toby smiled.
"Yeah. And, well, if you must know, my telling you did change things between us, and that's part of the reason I didn't want to tell the others."
"How did it change?" Toby asked indignantly. He never did anything to lead Sam to believe...
"You never yell at me anymore, Toby. You're always, I don't know, nice to me, like you're afraid I'll think that if you yell, it means that you think less of me because of this. Even after the tape thing, you didn't snap."
"You're telling me that you preferred when I was..."
"Gruff, yes. Everyone's noticed something, and it's disturbing to see you nice."
"Okay, let's... Okay." Toby took a breath, then went on, "Okay, for the record, I didn't yell at you after the tape because you were beating yourself up about it more than I could ever have. No one could have been harder on you than you were, Sam. That's the reason I didn't yell."
Sam had sat up and was staring at the covers. "Okay, I guess I can get that. But for the rest..."
"For the rest, you're right, I probably have... changed. I'll grant you that. I didn't do it on purpose, I just thought... you weren't exactly in any shape to take any abuse from me."
He stopped short, grimacing at his use of the word, and Sam sighed again. "Back when I told you, of course I wasn't. But that was months ago."
"Fine, I'll yell more if that's what you want," Toby raised his arms, signaling his surrender.
"Thanks," Sam said. There was a short silence, and Toby nodded and got up.
"'Night."
"Yeah," Sam said. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Toby answered, closing the door behind him.
The next day
White House
Josh was making his way to Sam's office, remembering the withering looks CJ had shot him all morning.
She was pissed at him.
She had every right to be.
He cringed, thinking about how Sam must have felt, coming out of his room to find him gone. He had needed time to let the news sink in, that was all. He didn't feel up to facing Sam back then.
He hadn't known what to say, how to act.
Besides, he had felt guilty. They had been best friends, they were still friends, or at least he hoped so, and he had never suspected. How could he have not suspected? How could he not have noticed the nightmares, the unease Sam displayed sometimes, how could something this huge have evaded him?
Donna would have told him that he was oblivious, but that couldn't be all there was to it.
Maybe he hadn't wanted to know.
After all, how many times had Sam's 'I'm fine' convinced him that he was really fine?
Never.
Yet he had never pushed it, because he was preoccupied by a thousand things, because he was hooked on a new project, because...
Because he hadn't wanted to know.
Arriving at Sam's office, he hesitated a minute before knocking, attracting Sam's attention.
"I come in peace," he tried to joke, lifting the bag containing the Chinese food.
The blank look on Sam's face made him worry. Would his friend even allow him to enter?
"Come in," Sam said coldly.
Josh closed the door, and Sam raised an eyebrow at the unusual gesture.
"I'm sorry," Josh said, putting the bag on the desk. Better get the apology off his chest before he choked on it, he figured. "For not staying yesterday. For being, you know, a lousy friend, and... I just didn't know what to do."
"Okay," Sam said, dropping his glance to the papers he was reading.
"I just... I'm sorry, I didn't know..."
Didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say, and how to reconcile the image of his friend with the ones that had popped in his mind at the words 'sexual abuse'.
"Do you know now?" Sam asked, staring at his desk.
"No."
"You came anyway." Sam was looking up this time, and Josh was startled at the amount of pain he saw in his eyes.
As if he wouldn't have come. As if he would have let Sam alone.
He had, he realized.
"Had you... had you tried to tell me? Before... back when we first became friends, did you?"
"Not really," Sam admitted.
That didn't reassure Josh.
"But?" he pressed on.
"You were easier to avoid than Toby was," Sam said softly. "You always have been."
Josh had thought as much, but it was still a blow to hear it. It must have shown, because Sam hurried to add, "I didn't really * try * Josh. And I'm not sure I'd have told you if you had insisted."
"But I never insisted," Josh completed. Sam was staring down again. "I'm sorry," Josh said.
"You've said that already."
"Yes, well, it bears repeating."
An uncomfortable silence fell on the office. "What... what can I do?" Josh asked when he couldn't take it anymore.
Sam didn't know what to answer. Josh's apologies had been unexpected, and he could see his friend was honestly trying to make amends here, but still...
What could Josh do?
Build him a time travelling machine?
Look at him in the eyes and tell him that nothing had changed?
Tell him that it would never make it to the press, because there was no way he could live through that?
Tell him that his mother would never look as guilty as his father had when he had discovered that he had left his sons in the hands of a sick man?
Tell him that the nightmares would go away, even if he had lived with them for decades now?
Tell him that he would forget what his godfather had done to him eventually?
Could he promise that?
He would never tell any of that to Josh, he knew. It would hurt him, even if he understood. It must have shown on his face anyway, though, because Josh suddenly looked away, seemingly at a loss for words.
It seemed a pretty common reaction, Sam thought.
To alleviate the tension, and maybe restore the status quo, he smiled. "I should be the one apologizing, here. I did send you to the ER."
"It was a bump," Josh said, shaking his head vehemently.
"Still."
"That should teach me," Josh said. "I had enough nightmares after Rosslyn, I should have known better."
Sam nodded. He still wondered how his friend had survived that one. And it suddenly dawned on him that it had been too long since he had last asked him how he was doing.
"I'm fine," Josh shrugged. "You know, some days are better than the others."
He knew, yes.
"How are you?" Josh asked.
Sam swallowed. A simple 'I'm fine' wouldn't cut it this time, but what to say? He didn't even know how he felt. Scared, of course. Self-conscious. Acutely aware of the way people looked at him. Uncertain of what the future would bring, of the way his relationship with his friends would evolve from there.
He shook his head. "I've been better."
Josh nodded. "We're here," he said quietly.
He knew that too, and it was a comfort. It wouldn't be enough if the story made it to a reporter, but as long as things stayed as they were, it would be enough.