PART FIVE

One month later

"So there's still nothing," Sam said by way of greeting when he entered CJ's office.

She smiled reassuringly. "Still nothing."

Nothing from the press, nothing from their opponents, not even vague rumors. Everyone seemed to have moved on.

It didn't stop Sam from worrying. Maybe it was just the calm before the storm, maybe it was just that their opponents were waiting for a good opportunity.

"It's still out there," he sighed.

"Sam... we don't even know for sure that it was out there in the first place. Maybe Steve didn't tell anything to Kevin, maybe Kevin was just making empty threats."

"They didn't sound empty," he said.

"I know, but..."

She didn't finish, and he was grateful. He had been vulnerable to suggestion that night, he knew. He had just had a meeting with Joyce, a car had sped up as he was exiting her building, maybe he had read too much into Kevin's comments. For all they knew, the guy still wasn't working for Ritchie.

Maybe he had been scared for nothing. Maybe Kevin had just wanted to make him nervous.

He certainly hoped so.

"There's also the possibility that they have the story and will never use it," CJ added.

Sam had thought about it himself, and it was a possibility. After all, if they did get the story out, they could look like they were kicking people who were down already - Josh had been the victim of a racist shooting, Sam had been raped as a kid. Coming after Sam may look opportunistic, and... low.

"So you think it won't get out?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I wish I could promise you, but... I think that if they had wanted to do something to divert the public's attention, they'd have done it by now. But - "

"But maybe they're waiting for the right opportunity," Sam completed for her.

"Yes."

"Okay," he said, going to the door.

"How are you?" CJ asked.

He paused to think. "Better," he said, knowing that a vague 'fine' would definitely be a wrong answer to give her. He had said it so often that Toby, Josh and her had threatened to throttle him if he said it once more.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he said, a little impatiently. Meaning it. The nightmares were less frequent. He was beginning to accept that Josh and CJ now knew what had happened to him. He didn't jump at shadows anymore.

She nodded. "Good. Get to work, I think Toby's bellowing for you."

Sam laughed frankly. His boss had begun to yell again, and that had been a huge relief to him. The first time, he had gone to Sam's office, holding a draft Sam had put on his desk a few hours ago - a deliberately bad draft.

Just to see if Toby would hold his word.

He had.

Toby had marched into the office, shouting at the top of his lungs. After a good ten minutes of inventive insults - some of them Sam was sure his boss was making up as he went, Toby had concluded by "Do you think the President is going to give that speech? Damn it, Sam, we don't have time for this!"

The noise in the bullpen had dropped to nothing by then, everyone pretending to be busy while listening - and probably taking notes, and looking up a few of the words Toby had used. For future reference.

"I'm sorry," Sam had said innocently, "I gave you the wrong one."

Reaching to his outbox, he had grabbed a folder and handed it to Toby.

"Good," his boss had said, his voice still too loud. "Get back to work, then."

He had left, then, as if struck by a second thought, he had turned back and poked his head in the office. "Better?" he had asked.

"Much," Sam had answered, sincerely.

Toby had left again, roaring, "What are you all looking at?" at the assembled staffers.

Everyone had taken a step back or fled the room, leaving Sam smiling softly.

Toby was still careful around Sam, but he was now more free to yell if need be, and Sam was enjoying the semblance of normality between them.



Two weeks later

"Can I talk to you?"

Sam looked up, took in the serious expression on his boss's face and felt himself pale.

"It's not that," Toby hurried to say. "Well, not directly."

Sam swallowed, nodded and gestured for Toby to sit.

After a tense silence, he said, "Toby, I'm pretty nervous here."

Toby smiled. "Sorry. The thing is... Josh and I tracked Kevin down."

"Oh," Sam said, blushing slightly when his voice wavered.

"Yeah, we found him, and we..."

Toby trailed off, and Sam looked at him with interest. "Toby? Did you, by any chance, scare him to death?"

Toby looked smug. "Yes, yes, I believe we did."

Sam, who had relaxed a little as he pictured Kevin facing Josh and Toby in a bad mood, tensed again when he considered possible repercussions. "What if - " he began.

Toby gestured for him to stay quiet, then went on. "He was drunk when we met him. And he was... quite talkative."

"Okay."

"He does know you once saw a therapist," Toby said bluntly. "He doesn't know who it was. He certainly doesn't know why you did. He doesn't have anything to prove that you did. And I don't think he knows you still see someone."

Sam breathed. "Okay." He took a moment to let it sink in, then frowned. "I thought you said Kevin was 'drunk and talkative'?"

"Yes."

"But you're not sure - "

"He wasn't coherent when we reached this part of the discussion," Toby explained. "He babbled a lot, but he didn't say anything definitive. I, personally, don't think he knows."

Sam couldn't think of anything to say, so he stayed silent. Toby, obviously not wanting to push him, waited. After a long while, Sam shook himself. "I suppose we'll never know more," he mused.

"No."

Sam got up, and went to the window. Staring ahead, he added, "Unless it comes out..."

"I don't think it'll come to that," Toby said. "We... hinted, that he better lay off."

"But if he decides to dig a little, he could find out."

"He'd have to dig * a lot *, given what little he knows now."

"But it's possible."

"Improbable," Toby replied.

There was another silence, then Sam said, "Thanks."

"Anytime," Toby said. "We just... We know you're doing better, but you were so... tense, waiting for something to happen."

"I still am," Sam said. "Just... less so."

"Yeah."

Toby got up, and was almost at the door when Sam said, "I hate him."

Toby turned around, startled. "Kevin?"

"My godfather," Sam answered. "I hate him. I... He died, and left me and Franck alone with what he had done. I've often... I'd like to face him, now, and yell at him."

His voice caught. He swallowed, and went on.

"I'd like to... confront him, I guess. Ask him why - if there even was a reason. I want to rage at him. I want closure, I want... He died, and now I can't do that, and that... He deprived me of that chance, Toby. And it's possible that someday, everyone will know what he did to me, and * he * won't have to bear the consequences. It was too easy for him. Death was too easy. I lived, and... I'm still dealing with it, I'm still not over it, I probably never will be. There's no happy ending here, you know. It's a part of me, and it will always be a part of me, even if time makes it better. And I hate him, and it's not a noble feeling, but I don't care. I don't care of it makes me a bad person, or whatever. I just do."

"You're not a bad person," Toby said.

"Yeah."

"He was."

Sam nodded, his back still to Toby. "Whatever. That's... I just wanted to say that."

Toby nodded, and said, "Okay."

Sam turned to him and smiled weakly. "Toby?"

"What?"

"Thanks," Sam said. "For, you know... everything, really."

"You're welcome."



The next morning

Sam arrived at his office to see Josh waiting for him.

"Hey buddy," his friend said cheerfully, "have you seen the last ad from Ritchie?"

"No, but look, I have - "

"It's funny," Josh went on, "you should see it."

Five minutes later, they were both laughing - in fact, Josh was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face.

When they had calmed down, he asked, "How are you doing?"

Sam sighed. He was tired of having people ask him that question all the time, and he was beginning to think that he should do something about it.

"I'm good," he smiled.

"Okay."

"I really am."

"I believe you."

"Do you?" he asked defensively.

"Yes," Josh laughed.

"Good, then."

The two were silent a moment, then Josh asked, "Really?"

Sam raised his hands in surrender. "How many times do I have to tell you yes?"

"We're worried," Josh defended.

"I know."

"We really are."

"I really know," he replied, trying not to let his aggravation creep into his voice. "Look, chances are they never had it anyway. And I... I don't know."

He wished he could put all of it behind him, but unfortunately, that wasn't possible.

Even if the story didn't leak, he still had to deal with the consequences of what his godfather had done. That was something no one could do for him, just like none of them had been able to help Josh go through the PTSD. His friends could support him, and he knew they would, but in the end, it was a matter of will. It was Sam who had to work through his 'issues', as he called them.

He knew, from having done it so many years, that it would never get easier.

He also knew that he was capable of doing it.

Besides, this time, his friends would be able to at least listen if something went wrong.

It would be alright, he vowed, and for the first time in many years, he actually believed it.

END

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