A/N: Yeah, sorry this has taken so long. Procrastination issues. I'll try
to get the last chapter up within the next week, and then start posting the
still untitled My Fellow Americans sequel. I also have a one-shot written
that I may have as part of an experiment. Pointless A/N here. Sorry. On to
the story!
CHAPTER 5/6
Carl sat in the mess, absently stirring his soup. It had been about three hours since his talk with Sam.
He couldn't imagine being in Toby's position. His friend had died in his arms while he was helpless to do anything to help. No wonder he couldn't stand Carl. Carl wouldn't have been able to stand Carl either.
"Hey Carl."
Leo sat down across the table from him. "Hi."
"How you doing, kid?"
"Good."
"Sam told me you talked."
"Yeah."
"You understand?"
"I do."
"Don't worry. They'll come around. Toby, CJ, just give them time."
"It's just..."
"Just what?"
"Nothing." Carl said quickly.
"No, tell me."
"Well, it's like they think I'm trying to replace Josh. And not just in a work sense. I mean like they think I'm trying to be him."
"They might." Leo said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Do you want me to talk to them?"
"No. Please don't."
"Okay. But just keep in mind that he was their friend. He died and it ripped them up for a while. They're still healing. This is tough on everyone, you included. Just give them time."
"'And lastly, thank you for inviting me to come and speak with you today.'" Sam read. "Great, I've got an end. Now I just need a beginning and a middle."
He took out the pile of research and began typing. Within ten minutes he was in full speechwriting mode, tuning out any and all distractions. It was still tedious work, but less difficult. He didn't look up thirty minutes later when there was a knock at the door.
"Hey Donna." He said, still typing, "Josh need me?"
It took a full five seconds for him to realize what he'd said. He jerked his head up at Donna, whose face was pale. "Oh man, I'm sorry." Sam said, "I—"
"It's okay."
"No. I-I don't – I can't..."
"No, really, it's okay." She came in and put a piece of paper on his desk. "Carl sent this. He found some stuff on that group for you."
"Wow." Sam scanned the sheet. "Tell him thanks for me."
"Yeah."
She started to walk out. "I really am sorry." Sam said.
"I've been doing the same thing for two weeks." Donna said, turning and smiling sadly at him.
"Good night."
"Night."
She left. Sam turned back to his computer but his concentration had been shattered.
"Sam!"
Sam pulled himself up off the ground. CJ was still down but an agent was pulling her to her feet. She'd be okay.
"You okay?" Leo asked, brushing some dirt off of Sam's shoulder.
"Yeah. Where's everyone else?"
"The President's being brought to the White House. Zoey and Charlie are too. CJ's over there, and I haven't seen Josh or Toby."
It seemed to Sam that he heard a faint voice calling for help, but in the chaos he couldn't be sure.
"I'll go find them." He said.
He had seen Toby briefly a few minutes earlier, walking toward the stairs. He headed in that direction.
"Hey Toby, you here?"
"There was a crowd at the top of the steps. Paramedics mostly, though some people were snapping pictures. Horrible possibilities flashed through Sam's mind as he ran up. His foot caught the top stair and he tripped, falling into one of the photographers and knocking her down.
He got to his feet and shoved through to the center. Toby was fighting loudly with a paramedic. Sam saw blood on his shirt and for a second thought that he was the one who'd been hurt. But then he heard what Toby was yelling and he turned, with growing dread, toward the stretcher that was about to be wheeled over to the ambulance. His best friend lay there, blood soaking his shirt, his jacket discarded on the ground beside him. His sightless eyes stared up at Sam and Sam fell to his knees.
Sam blinked and looked around. He was on his office floor, his head buried in his arms. Tears soaked the carpet. No one else was around. He sat up, wiped his eyes, and shut off his computer. It was time to go home.
CHAPTER 5/6
Carl sat in the mess, absently stirring his soup. It had been about three hours since his talk with Sam.
He couldn't imagine being in Toby's position. His friend had died in his arms while he was helpless to do anything to help. No wonder he couldn't stand Carl. Carl wouldn't have been able to stand Carl either.
"Hey Carl."
Leo sat down across the table from him. "Hi."
"How you doing, kid?"
"Good."
"Sam told me you talked."
"Yeah."
"You understand?"
"I do."
"Don't worry. They'll come around. Toby, CJ, just give them time."
"It's just..."
"Just what?"
"Nothing." Carl said quickly.
"No, tell me."
"Well, it's like they think I'm trying to replace Josh. And not just in a work sense. I mean like they think I'm trying to be him."
"They might." Leo said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Do you want me to talk to them?"
"No. Please don't."
"Okay. But just keep in mind that he was their friend. He died and it ripped them up for a while. They're still healing. This is tough on everyone, you included. Just give them time."
"'And lastly, thank you for inviting me to come and speak with you today.'" Sam read. "Great, I've got an end. Now I just need a beginning and a middle."
He took out the pile of research and began typing. Within ten minutes he was in full speechwriting mode, tuning out any and all distractions. It was still tedious work, but less difficult. He didn't look up thirty minutes later when there was a knock at the door.
"Hey Donna." He said, still typing, "Josh need me?"
It took a full five seconds for him to realize what he'd said. He jerked his head up at Donna, whose face was pale. "Oh man, I'm sorry." Sam said, "I—"
"It's okay."
"No. I-I don't – I can't..."
"No, really, it's okay." She came in and put a piece of paper on his desk. "Carl sent this. He found some stuff on that group for you."
"Wow." Sam scanned the sheet. "Tell him thanks for me."
"Yeah."
She started to walk out. "I really am sorry." Sam said.
"I've been doing the same thing for two weeks." Donna said, turning and smiling sadly at him.
"Good night."
"Night."
She left. Sam turned back to his computer but his concentration had been shattered.
"Sam!"
Sam pulled himself up off the ground. CJ was still down but an agent was pulling her to her feet. She'd be okay.
"You okay?" Leo asked, brushing some dirt off of Sam's shoulder.
"Yeah. Where's everyone else?"
"The President's being brought to the White House. Zoey and Charlie are too. CJ's over there, and I haven't seen Josh or Toby."
It seemed to Sam that he heard a faint voice calling for help, but in the chaos he couldn't be sure.
"I'll go find them." He said.
He had seen Toby briefly a few minutes earlier, walking toward the stairs. He headed in that direction.
"Hey Toby, you here?"
"There was a crowd at the top of the steps. Paramedics mostly, though some people were snapping pictures. Horrible possibilities flashed through Sam's mind as he ran up. His foot caught the top stair and he tripped, falling into one of the photographers and knocking her down.
He got to his feet and shoved through to the center. Toby was fighting loudly with a paramedic. Sam saw blood on his shirt and for a second thought that he was the one who'd been hurt. But then he heard what Toby was yelling and he turned, with growing dread, toward the stretcher that was about to be wheeled over to the ambulance. His best friend lay there, blood soaking his shirt, his jacket discarded on the ground beside him. His sightless eyes stared up at Sam and Sam fell to his knees.
Sam blinked and looked around. He was on his office floor, his head buried in his arms. Tears soaked the carpet. No one else was around. He sat up, wiped his eyes, and shut off his computer. It was time to go home.