Rainbow's End: 'After The Rain' 4/11
AFTER THE RAIN
3rd September
"I hate all of this waiting around. It makes me nervous."
"It'll be fine honey." Sam said as he put his arm around Alexandra's shoulder.
"I don't think so, Sam. They ordered those tests so quickly, it's serious. I know."
"I'm sure it will be fine." Sam certainly hoped that it would be and squeezed her shoulders to show his support. "We'll get through this together."
"Yeah." She took a deep breath.
They were sitting in the Doctor's waiting room waiting for the results of some tests that the doctor had ordered the day before. Sam had taken some time out after writing the toast for the State Dinner with the President of France on the pre-text that he had to get some 'thing' done as a matter of importance. Sam knew that Josh said he would facilitate any time off Sam might need but he did not want to go to him, it was none of his business, it was something that he and Alex had to do.
The surgery was bright and sterile looking with its clinical white walls. The brightly colored magazines on the tables scattered around the place did nothing to lift the mood and the low leatherette chairs had a creak that would make the most fearless person a quivering wreck. The loud ticking of a clock punctuated the silence. There was one wall that wasn't white, though what it was did not constitute an improvement: on the wall with the door that led to the consulting rooms was a large emblazoned picture/poster of a forest in autumn that covered the whole wall. It was meant to be comforting but it offered no comfort to Sam and Alex.
2nd September
"How did you get on at the Doctor's?" Sam asked when he eventually arrived home. He and Toby had been on a roll with the speech and dared not leave it in case they happened to lose their talent overnight, (it certainly would not have been the first time).
"He sent me to the hospital for some tests. I had to see a specialist."
"What kind of a specialist? What tests did they do?"
"They took some blood to do a full examination of that, then they did a thing called a bone marrow biopsy where they took a bit of the bone marrow and the bone too and they also did a spinal tap, both of which involved a very big needle and hurt like hell despite the anesthesia. I had x-rays, MRI's and ultrasound scans."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I didn't think to."
"How did you get home?"
"I took a cab."
"You should've called."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"It hurt a lot?"
"Yeah."
"Can I get you something to eat?"
"No, thank you. I made myself some of the soup that you bought me all those weeks ago. At least it came in handy."
"You don't want anything else?"
"Only to go to sleep."
"O.K. I'll put you to bed. When do you get the test results?"
"Tomorrow."
"I'm coming with you."
"You can't. You have to go to work."
"We're nearly done with the toast. We'll get it done early and I'll step out for a little while."
"You sure?"
"I'm positive. I'm not letting you go through all that alone."
Even though Alex had not been upfront, telling him what the doctor suspected, Sam had a few suspicions of his own and the details of the tests that she'd had had to undergo served only to heighten his anxiety. He was not an expert but he'd seen enough episodes of ER to know that the news didn't look good.
X X X
There was no light entering the doctor's office from the outside, the sky was so overcast and the rain fell in heavy drops thudding against the window at irregular intervals, it was very oppressive. The unpredictability of their patter was unnerving.
Doctor Schumann sat behind his desk with Sam and Alexandra facing him, hands by their side and locked in each other's tight grasp both shifting uncomfortably in their seats.
"It's what?" Sam asked, leaning forward.
"Acute Lymphocytic Leukaemia; ALL." Dr. Schumann paused for them to absorb the information. The best way for Sam to process this was to talk, which was more than Alexandra felt able to do. She sat there nodding her head, trying to take everything in, yet with that one sentence the influx of information had become something so overwhelming everything else seemed to displace itself.
"Leukaemia, a derivative of the Greek words 'Leukos', meaning 'white' and 'haima' meaning blood." The Doctor gave Sam a sidelong glance but said nothing as Sam carried on. "It affects the white blood cells, right?"
"Yes." The Doctor nodded. "In this case it has been caused by a genetic injury that has led to increased production in the white blood cells called lymphocytes. Because of the fast rate at which they multiply they do not have the chance to mature properly and that means that they cannot do their job properly. They may also crowd out normal white cells, red blood cells and platelets that mean the blood can't do its work properly. The fact that it is acute means that it progresses rapidly from the onset of symptoms, which you began to notice a couple of weeks ago."
"What's the prognosis?" asked Sam.
"This type of ALL has been classified as being sub-type L3 or Burkitt's type Leukaemia. Approximately 5% of all adults with ALL have this sub- type."
"What's the prognosis?" Sam tried again.
"Under the circumstances I'm afraid that the prognosis is not good."
"Not good? What makes it not good? How not good is not good?"
"We noticed that there were mutant Leukaemia cells visible around the spinal cord, we were shown this by the spinal tap, the MRI scans, the other scans, that there are clusters of the rogue cells gathering around the vital organs. It's in advanced stages. Treatment would serve to prolong your life by a few months but remission is not a probability."
"It's not entirely out of the question, though?" Sam asked hopefully.
"Not entirely but the possibility is negligible."
"Oh. What would treatment mean? What kind of treatment?"
"Well, it could be chemotherapy or radiotherapy or there are all sorts of drug trials. Whatever we do would need to be started as soon as possible but I'd rather not discuss a treatment regimen with you right now. I think that you both need time to adjust to the news and I think that anything I tell you hereafter will not sink in. Come back and see me tomorrow, we can discuss it then. It will give the both of you time to get a handle on this."
"Thank you doctor." Said Sam, standing up. "We'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes. Until tomorrow. Here are some pamphlets for you to flick through if you feel up to it." He deliberately gave them to Sam. Alexandra's face was fixed in a grimace.
"Come on, sweetie." Sam said as he touched her gently on the shoulder. "Let's go home." She stood up and moved as directed out of the doctor's office, Sam with his arm around her.
X X X
Only the pouring rain hides a tear forever.
Clouds fill the sky again, can we cry together?
Morning dew, hanging pearls out to dry
Spreading a fashionable light
Overcome the misty day
Never a last goodbye – there's always tomorrow.
Are things ever the same after the rain?...
Tears of laughter bring a smile
For special moments we're eternally grateful
Take our memories of pain after the rain.
Colour of blue September morning
Bathe in a lighter shade of grey.
Change the storm I carry in my heart,
There's a brighter day.
Colour of blue September morning
Eyes of emotion tire and close,
Change my heart, change emotion.
Colour happy memories rose.
Change my heart, change emotion.
Colour happy memories rose.
(Excerpt from 'After The Rain' by Mark Carroll transcribed from Ruthie Henshall: 'Pilgrim').
X X X
Conversation was minimal as they drove home with the only really substantive comments from either of them being on the weather and the amount of rain D.C. had had since morning.
Sam parked his car outside Alexandra's apartment. He got out and locked the driver's side door and went round to the passenger side to help her out.
"I'm capable of walking Sam. I may be dying but my legs do still work for the moment." Sam took a step back but closed the door behind her.
"I'm sorry. I was trying to be nice." He held his hands up to placate her. "I'm sorry."
Alex led the way to her apartment and opened the door. Sam followed on behind, nervously leafing through the pamphlets that he had been given. They sat down side by side on the comfortable sofa but with a noticeable gap between them.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Alex asked.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Shouldn't you be getting ready? It's a State Dinner. You're meant to be there."
"I'm not going."
"I would have thought that you have to go; you're the Deputy Communications Director. You wrote the toast."
"Toby and I wrote the toast and seeing as the toast is all written that's really all I can do with it. My being there or not will make no difference to the way the President delivers the speech, nor to the places he digresses."
"You should go. Have a good night. I won't be much company."
"I want to stay. I think that we need to be together. I think we need to talk."
"I don't want to talk right now. You should go."
"Lexa, I can't. I can't leave you like this."
"I want the time alone, Sam. I need to get my head around this, it's a big thing. Leave me the pamphlets; I'll read them and get things straight."
"You're sure?"
"Go. You can't miss this."
"I'll go, but I'm coming back here after and I'm coming to the doctor's with you in the morning."
"Don't you need to go to work?"
"I'll pretend I have a hangover. Nothing is going to stop me from being with you."
"You don't have to do this you know, Sam. If you wanted to run now I would understand."
"I'm not going to do that. We're in this together." Alexandra nodded. "Anyway, if I'm going I'd better... go."
"Get into your tux. Do me a favour though, make sure you're still wearing it when you come back here tonight."
"Why?"
"Because I never could say no to man in a tuxedo. You look very sweet in your little bow tie and..."
"I'm going now."
"See you tonight?"
"Count on it."
X X X
Against his better judgement Sam took a steady drive back to his apartment, his mind rapidly trying to process all the information that he had received in the space of one very short afternoon.
As he neared his apartment his cell phone rang so he pulled into the side of the road to answer it. The caller ID told him that it was Josh calling, from his apartment, no less. Sam was very impressed that Josh had actually managed to find his way home, given the infrequency with which he actually made it there.
"Josh?"
"Sam, s'up?"
"Nothing. What do you want?"
"I was wondering..."
"What do you want Josh?"
"Can you pick me up tonight, give me a lift back in for the State Dinner?"
"And you can't drive yourself because...?"
"I want to have a drink tonight and I don't want to have to bother about getting home after; I know that you won't drink so I thought it would be an ideal solution."
"Fine. I'll come by and get you at 6.30."
"Thanks, Sam."
"Yeah."
"Sam, you O.K.? You sound very tort. Very tight. Is everything O.K.?"
"It's fine Josh."
"K. I'll see you at 6.30, then."
"O.K." Sam pushed the button that ended the call and pulled out into the main stream of traffic to complete the journey to his apartment. He thought about grabbing something to eat when he got in, but the unsettled feeling in his stomach put him off the idea.
X X X
Sam had been home and donned his tux and was parked up outside Josh Lyman's apartment at 6.30pm on the dot, punctual to a fault. Sam sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for his friend. He saw Josh's head appear at the window about fifteen minutes later, register his car was parked down there and followed by his arrival forthwith.
"Josh, you're late."
"Sorry. I thought you'd come up when you got here."
"I didn't. I thought I should wait down here."
"You ready?"
"I am now you've arrived. We should go."
"Sam, I know I asked you this on the phone; are you O.K?"
"Fine, Josh." With the sharp tone of Sam's answer, Josh decided that he would leave well alone and accept the answer Sam had given, despite the feeling he had to the contrary. Instead he decided to change the subject.
"By the way, I found out why Donna was pissed at me."
"Yeah?"
"Turns out she wasn't actually pissed at me. Doctor Freeride whom she was dating before she joined the campaign and then went back to and then finished with again, called by her apartment to see her while her new guy was there bringing the end to another one of Donna's no good men where things never actually go anywhere. She projected her anger toward him onto me."
X X X
The State Dinner was a very grand event; all the gentlemen in tuxedoes and all the ladies in beautiful ball gowns. The East Room was decorated beautifully with flags and bunting, it looked very sumptuous as all the guests drank from the finest crystal glasses, served to them on silver trays.
The French President, Delacroix, was being introduced to all the important parties present by President Bartlet while the First Lady took Madame Delacroix under her wing for the more social element of the dinner. They would all be reunited for the meal of course and then the French couple would be given free rein to walk around the party as they pleased.
On their arrival, Sam and Josh headed toward C.J. and Toby, who were both in a corner talking to the British Ambassador, Lord John Marbury.
"This White House has an impeccable selection of alcoholic beverages." Lord John Marbury commended. Toby raised his glass. C.J. was wearing a cobalt blue dress of shot-silk, a bodice shaped top coming out into a skirt that hung beautifully, she looked the picture of elegance, her glass gently balanced between two fingers; she was definitely flirting.
"Ah. Samuel. Joshua!" Marbury said as the two joined the group. "You appear to be arriving a little late."
"The way Sam was driving I'm impressed we made it here at all." Josh said. "His mind was anywhere but where it should have been." C.J. stole a quick glance; Sam not being his usual careful self on the road was worrying. If there was one thing on which Sam prided himself, it was his exemplary driving record; he had never had a parking ticket, never jumped a light, he had never had an accident, never bumped his car, not even a minor transgression. Nothing.
Lord John caught sight of a rapidly moving blur behind Josh's shoulder, after which he called:
"Gerald!" You could practically see Leo cringe and look for some form of escape. Unfortunately for him, no quick exit route made itself available.
"Your Lordship. Is everything all right?"
"Excellent, Gerald. Excellent. Toby here has been telling me you've been testing your missile shield again. Have you finally managed to get it to work yet?"
"Not perhaps in the way that you mean."
"Ah. Still missing the target, then!" Lord John turned back to the group of four. If you will excuse me gentlemen, Principessa, I wish to speak some more with Gerald about his toy." The four Senior Staffers did their best to hide their grins, as they all knew the disdain Leo showed towards the eccentricities of the British Ambassador.
"Is everything O.K. Sam?" C.J. asked. Josh's comment about Sam's driving had really caused her concern.
"It's fine, C.J."
"You look stressed." Added Toby.
"I'm really not, Toby. I would be even less so if people stopped asking me questions about whether or not I'm stressed. If you'll excuse me." Sam left the three and entered the throngs of people, effectively becoming lost from the view of the others. C.J. and Toby both looked to Josh to see if he could spread any light on the situation; maybe something that he wouldn't have been able to mention in front of Sam. All he could do, though, was shrug.
X X X
Sam was feeling overwhelmed. So much so that he felt the need to get out of the room where all the people were crowded and constantly moving. For the first time in his life he felt claustrophobic, he felt light-headed from the movement and the bustle and a pressure was building up in his chest. The only way he could see of relieving the pressure would be to find a quiet corner in a nice cool hallway where he could get his head together and get some fresh air.
As he escaped the confines of the room he started to feel the pressure begin to lift a little. He decided he would go to the men's room and splash a little water on his face but on his way he felt his stomach become unsettled, he increased his pace and his arrival at the men's room could not come too soon. He ran into the stalls as the dry heaves started to come. He was grateful that he had not had anything to eat for a while. He bent down over the toilet bowl and all the pressure that had been lurking beneath the surface since their consultation with the doctor began to release itself. Sam was so intensely occupied that he did not here the door open, nor the footsteps as they headed across the tiled floor to see who was being so violently ill.
"Sam?" Sam still didn't register the other person, who stepped from where they had observed Sam and ran a towel under the faucet. He then went up behind him and placed a hand on his back and started rubbing in rhythmic circles. "Sam? What's wrong? You sick? Take it easy there." The litany of comforting words continued as Sam felt the constricted breaths subside, then he felt the damp towel that was gently being applied to his face.
Sam turned around and for the first time saw who his Florence Nightingale was.
"Toby?" he managed, the bile leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He still felt light-headed, the sensation disorientating him.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm fine."
"Sam." Toby warned.
"Toby. I'm sorry, can I just... can I just sit down for a moment, please." Toby helped Sam down to the floor and propped him up against the wall of the stall.
"What was that about Sam?"
"It was nothing. I'm fine."
"What was it about?" Sam opened his mouth to reply. "Sam, if you're about to say that you're fine, I'm not going to be impressed."
"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that."
"Well, I did, so why not tell me what it was all about?"
"I'd really like to do that, Toby, I would, but it's not something I can talk about right now."
"If you're sick, you should go home."
"I'm not sick."
"After that little performance I think you should go home anyway. I don't think it would make a good impression if you collapsed, or threw up, or something at the feet of the wife of the French President. All our good work on the toast, our moves toward strengthening an alliance that has, in the past, been unstable to say the least, would be compromised in one fell swoop."
"I'm meant to be driving Josh home. He wanted to drink tonight, that's why I gave him a lift in."
"Sam, if Josh has anything stronger than a glass of mineral water he's drunk and he'll just pass out in his office. Besides, even if he wants to go home he can get a cab."
"But..."
"Sam, screw it. Forget Josh, go home and get some rest. Also, I don't expect you in first thing in the morning tomorrow. Take the time and feel better."
"Thank you, Toby." Sam smiled gratefully. Then Toby considered as an afterthought.
"Are you going to be able to drive yourself home?"
"Yeah."
"Do you wanna go sit down somewhere to get your head together?"
"Thanks. That would be good." Then it occurred to Sam. "What are you going to tell everyone?"
"I'll tell them that you're sick."
"Toby..."
"Take it or leave it Sam. You either let me tell them that you're feeling under the weather or I give them graphic details of those few minutes we've just experienced together."
"The first one is good."
"I thought so." Toby looked proud of himself. "Look, I'll take you to my office, I'll leave you there by yourself; no one will disturb you. Then, when you feel up to it, you can take yourself home. I'll pick up my cell phone too, if you want me or you decide that you want a lift home, call me and I'll take you."
"Thank you, Toby." Sam let Toby help him up and lead him down the corridor; the shortness of breath induced from his sickness had made him very tired, so much so that he did not object when Toby put a hand on his back and gently guided him down the hallways, it also helped control the dizzying affect of his disorientation.
Once Sam had settled on his sofa, Toby prepared to leave.
"Is there anything else you want?"
"No. I'm good. Thanks."
"Fine. Don't come in tomorrow unless you're up to it. We've not got much on."
"O.K." Toby nodded to himself as his mental checklist of questions and things to tell Sam had been completed and he left his deputy in his office sitting quietly. He closed the door softly behind him and Sam was alone with his thoughts.
For his part, Sam was adamant that he was going to get himself round to Alex's and although he appreciated the offer and Toby's unusually overt shows of concern, he was going to do it alone. This was not the sort of thing he needed to concern the others with; they all had their own problems and concerns, they did not need to be burdened with all the things that were going through his head too. Furthermore, he saw no way in which them knowing would be beneficial to anyone; there was nothing any of them could do, plus they would probably think that he was overreacting, after all, he was not the one who was dying.
Sam supposed one good thing had come from Toby finding him in the men's room once he had overcome the embarrassment of the whole situation: it meant that he could get back to Alex sooner than he had intended without worrying that it would appear that he was ducking out of his obligations at the White House.
After five minutes of sitting there, Sam decided that it was now or never and dragged himself up and out to his car, forcing himself to concentrate as he drove around to Alexandra's apartment.
X X X
Josh was flying about the ballroom, dodging the tuxedoed and gowned guests. He had lost sight of Sam and wanted to make sure that he was still O.K. to give him a lift home. Not able to spy Sam, he spotted Toby forcing his way across the floor.
"Toby!" Josh called, waving his hands emphatically to get the Director of Communications' attention. "Toby!" Seeing Josh, Toby changed his course of direction and headed over to him. "Toby, have you seen Sam?"
"He's gone home."
"He's gone?"
"Yeah, a few minutes ago."
"Oh come on! He was meant to be giving me a lift."
"Josh." Toby warned.
"He just took off without telling anyone?"
"He didn't just 'take off'; he told me."
"He went just like that?" Josh looked flummoxed. He couldn't believe Sam had just had the audacity to leave him, he couldn't help but feel persecuted.
"He's sick, Josh. He wasn't feeling well, so he went home."
"He's O.K. though, right. I mean, you've seen how he's been lately."
"Yeah. I think he's fine. Hopefully he'll be better after a good night's sleep."
"Yeah." Toby could see Josh processing the information he had been given and Toby could tell he was contemplating going straight off to call Sam.
"Leave him be, Josh." Joshua did not look entirely convinced however the look he received from Toby dissuaded him from taking any action.
X X X
3rd-4th September
When Sam got back to Alexandra's apartment there was no sign of her.
"Lexie?" He called. "Lex?" He went over to her bedroom and pushed the door open gently and saw her asleep in the bed. Not wanting to begrudge her any precious rest, Sam decided that he would spend the night on the sofa, not that he saw getting off to sleep as even a possibility.
He spent a restless night flicking between CNN, under-whelmed with the golf feature that had been on for far too long and picking up and putting down books. In between he watched late night re-runs of 'Columbo', 'Murder She Wrote', 'Diagnosis Murder' and 'Ironside'. None of them exactly programmes Sam would have watched if he had had much choice, but it was preferable to sitting with only his tumultuous thoughts for company. He fidgeted the night long and was granted no respite through sleep, which was elusive to say the least.
At 7am, during what had seemed like his fifteenth consecutive episode of 'Diagnosis Murder', though it was in fact only the second, Sam was interrupted by Alexandra coming out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. It came as something of a relief to Sam as he had become adamant that if the little blond doctor had a mild concussion once more, he would do his best to ensure that he most certainly did; method acting on an extreme level!
"Morning." She said. "What time did you get in last night?"
"I didn't really notice." Sam lied.
"Sorry I was in bed. I was tired, I needed to sleep."
"Sure."
"How did the thing go last night? Your toast was good?"
"Yeah. It was fine. It went..." Sam waved his hand dismissively; he was hanged if he was going to admit that Toby had sent him home after his display in the men's room before the President had given the toast. Just as his friends at work would not want to hear about his problems, it was not fair that he burden Alex with such things either.
"Do you want some breakfast?"
"No, I'm good. I had something a little earlier." Sam lied. He couldn't face eating yet, not until after their visit to the doctor's office.
"O.K." Alex got herself a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice, which she quickly ate; then she went to get ready.
X X X
They were sitting in the doctor's office once more, the same configuration as on the previous occasion.
"...Now, to talk to you about treatment." Alex nodded. "You've had a chance to look at the pamphlets, I hope."
"Yeah." Alex said.
"Good, good. Now to talk about contingency plans; any questions you may have, feel free to ask as we go along. Do you have anything before we start?" Sam stared straight ahead stoically, shaking his head, Alex, far more aloof today than she was the day before said:
"Actually, I do." Schumann shifted his attention so he was looking directly at Alexandra. "I was thinking last night; I don't want treatment." Dr. Schumann nodded. Sam's eyes widened, almost to the point where it looked as if it would not be unlikely for them to pop out of his head.
"Excuse me?" He said.
"I can't go through that again."
"What again?" Sam asked, confused. "I don't understand."
"Sam, the specialist I went to see and who did the tests was my oncologist. He explained what he thought could have happened and warned me that this could be a relapse."
"A relapse?" Sam was confused, his head was spinning. This at least went some way to explaining how calm Alexandra had been.
"When I was younger the doctors found a malignant tumour near my spine, they managed to operate and remove it and after a lot of aggressive treatment I went into remission. My oncologist did say that this ALL could have been caused by that radiotherapy. It could have caused the mutation of the healthy cells that have continued to mutate over the years..."
"Till today." Sam finished.
"Till today." Dr. Schumann watched quietly as the couple talked to each other. "I read the things but I know the side effects. It may give me a couple extra months, but the extra months the treatment gives me won't actually constitute any more time because I'll feel lousy the whole way. It just means I'll have months feeling bad for no longer time feeling good at the end. It's not worth it and it's not worth wasting resources on me when they won't do any good."
"You can't mean that!" Sam protested.
"I can't go through it all again, Sam. You have to understand that. I don't have the energy this time. I was sixteen before, I wanted to live, now...I'd rather enjoy the time I have left, no matter how long or short. I don't want to go through all of that again." Dr. Schumann nodded. It was almost as if the news didn't come as a surprise to him, Sam thought, which of course, it wouldn't, he had seen her medical records, after all.
"Surely you can't be behind this?" Sam's ire flashed toward the doctor. "There's always hope. There are always new things to try."
"I think it's very brave. I also think it could be the right thing in this case. Any time you get at the other end of treatment will be countered by the side effects of the treatment period. Hope of remission would almost come beyond the scope of a miracle. I don't want to sway anyone's opinion, but I think it is what I would do." Sam couldn't believe it. He was about to start shouting about the Hippocratic Oath and the Patient's Bill of Rights, even wanting to dredge up some of the things he had seen on TV: ER, Chicago Hope, (Diagnosis Murder!!) but was unable to get his mouth and brain to co-ordinate and construct such arguments.
"I've already written my letter of resignation. I went to post it on my way in."
That's where she disappeared to on the way, Sam thought. I can't believe she didn't tell me. As such, Sam spent the remainder of the meeting in indignant silence.
"About your regimen; you'll need to take vitamin and mineral supplements, to boost your immune system, I'd also feel happier if you took regular iron supplements too, to combat anaemia. You're going to have to be careful because you will be very susceptible to anything contagious and at the first sign of any symptoms of anything, you must come back to me straight away..."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't tell you about my past because it is all in the past." Alexandra said. "I was afraid you'd try and change my mind."
"I would have."
They sat in silence as Sam drove them back.
"Lex, just so you know, I'll stand by you. I may not agree with your decision but I'll stand by you and respect your choice."
"Thank you." Alexandra looked out of the passenger side window, while Sam concentrated on the road ahead. "When do you need to be in at work? Didn't Toby get mad when you told him that you'd be late in?"
"It's fine. There's not much on." He thought for a moment. "I could call in sick if you want. So that we can spend some time together."
"No. You should go in. We wouldn't want the country falling down around our ears while you're enjoying a day off with me."
"How do you do it?"
"What?"
"Be so damn philosophical. If that was me I'd be fighting tooth and nail. I'd want for every kind of treatment possible, more than anything I'd want a cure."
"I've done that before Sam but this time you have to accept I can't; that there isn't. I want you to understand. You've heard everything the doctor had to say, you heard what I had to say...let's be realistic. We'll make the most of the time we have left together."
"Fine." Sam sounded testy. "One thing, though."
"What's that?"
"Will you move in with me? Into my apartment? I want us to be together. It's just that my apartment's bigger, it's nearer the hospital, the doctors, the White House. We could move you in tonight."
"Yeah. That means I can sell my apartment and tidy up my affairs ready."
"Yeah." That was not the response that Sam had been expecting and facing the reality of death frightened him beyond belief.
"It's ironic really," she murmured, "the very thing that saved my life the last time is actually going to kill me."
AFTER THE RAIN
3rd September
"I hate all of this waiting around. It makes me nervous."
"It'll be fine honey." Sam said as he put his arm around Alexandra's shoulder.
"I don't think so, Sam. They ordered those tests so quickly, it's serious. I know."
"I'm sure it will be fine." Sam certainly hoped that it would be and squeezed her shoulders to show his support. "We'll get through this together."
"Yeah." She took a deep breath.
They were sitting in the Doctor's waiting room waiting for the results of some tests that the doctor had ordered the day before. Sam had taken some time out after writing the toast for the State Dinner with the President of France on the pre-text that he had to get some 'thing' done as a matter of importance. Sam knew that Josh said he would facilitate any time off Sam might need but he did not want to go to him, it was none of his business, it was something that he and Alex had to do.
The surgery was bright and sterile looking with its clinical white walls. The brightly colored magazines on the tables scattered around the place did nothing to lift the mood and the low leatherette chairs had a creak that would make the most fearless person a quivering wreck. The loud ticking of a clock punctuated the silence. There was one wall that wasn't white, though what it was did not constitute an improvement: on the wall with the door that led to the consulting rooms was a large emblazoned picture/poster of a forest in autumn that covered the whole wall. It was meant to be comforting but it offered no comfort to Sam and Alex.
2nd September
"How did you get on at the Doctor's?" Sam asked when he eventually arrived home. He and Toby had been on a roll with the speech and dared not leave it in case they happened to lose their talent overnight, (it certainly would not have been the first time).
"He sent me to the hospital for some tests. I had to see a specialist."
"What kind of a specialist? What tests did they do?"
"They took some blood to do a full examination of that, then they did a thing called a bone marrow biopsy where they took a bit of the bone marrow and the bone too and they also did a spinal tap, both of which involved a very big needle and hurt like hell despite the anesthesia. I had x-rays, MRI's and ultrasound scans."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I didn't think to."
"How did you get home?"
"I took a cab."
"You should've called."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"It hurt a lot?"
"Yeah."
"Can I get you something to eat?"
"No, thank you. I made myself some of the soup that you bought me all those weeks ago. At least it came in handy."
"You don't want anything else?"
"Only to go to sleep."
"O.K. I'll put you to bed. When do you get the test results?"
"Tomorrow."
"I'm coming with you."
"You can't. You have to go to work."
"We're nearly done with the toast. We'll get it done early and I'll step out for a little while."
"You sure?"
"I'm positive. I'm not letting you go through all that alone."
Even though Alex had not been upfront, telling him what the doctor suspected, Sam had a few suspicions of his own and the details of the tests that she'd had had to undergo served only to heighten his anxiety. He was not an expert but he'd seen enough episodes of ER to know that the news didn't look good.
X X X
There was no light entering the doctor's office from the outside, the sky was so overcast and the rain fell in heavy drops thudding against the window at irregular intervals, it was very oppressive. The unpredictability of their patter was unnerving.
Doctor Schumann sat behind his desk with Sam and Alexandra facing him, hands by their side and locked in each other's tight grasp both shifting uncomfortably in their seats.
"It's what?" Sam asked, leaning forward.
"Acute Lymphocytic Leukaemia; ALL." Dr. Schumann paused for them to absorb the information. The best way for Sam to process this was to talk, which was more than Alexandra felt able to do. She sat there nodding her head, trying to take everything in, yet with that one sentence the influx of information had become something so overwhelming everything else seemed to displace itself.
"Leukaemia, a derivative of the Greek words 'Leukos', meaning 'white' and 'haima' meaning blood." The Doctor gave Sam a sidelong glance but said nothing as Sam carried on. "It affects the white blood cells, right?"
"Yes." The Doctor nodded. "In this case it has been caused by a genetic injury that has led to increased production in the white blood cells called lymphocytes. Because of the fast rate at which they multiply they do not have the chance to mature properly and that means that they cannot do their job properly. They may also crowd out normal white cells, red blood cells and platelets that mean the blood can't do its work properly. The fact that it is acute means that it progresses rapidly from the onset of symptoms, which you began to notice a couple of weeks ago."
"What's the prognosis?" asked Sam.
"This type of ALL has been classified as being sub-type L3 or Burkitt's type Leukaemia. Approximately 5% of all adults with ALL have this sub- type."
"What's the prognosis?" Sam tried again.
"Under the circumstances I'm afraid that the prognosis is not good."
"Not good? What makes it not good? How not good is not good?"
"We noticed that there were mutant Leukaemia cells visible around the spinal cord, we were shown this by the spinal tap, the MRI scans, the other scans, that there are clusters of the rogue cells gathering around the vital organs. It's in advanced stages. Treatment would serve to prolong your life by a few months but remission is not a probability."
"It's not entirely out of the question, though?" Sam asked hopefully.
"Not entirely but the possibility is negligible."
"Oh. What would treatment mean? What kind of treatment?"
"Well, it could be chemotherapy or radiotherapy or there are all sorts of drug trials. Whatever we do would need to be started as soon as possible but I'd rather not discuss a treatment regimen with you right now. I think that you both need time to adjust to the news and I think that anything I tell you hereafter will not sink in. Come back and see me tomorrow, we can discuss it then. It will give the both of you time to get a handle on this."
"Thank you doctor." Said Sam, standing up. "We'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes. Until tomorrow. Here are some pamphlets for you to flick through if you feel up to it." He deliberately gave them to Sam. Alexandra's face was fixed in a grimace.
"Come on, sweetie." Sam said as he touched her gently on the shoulder. "Let's go home." She stood up and moved as directed out of the doctor's office, Sam with his arm around her.
X X X
Only the pouring rain hides a tear forever.
Clouds fill the sky again, can we cry together?
Morning dew, hanging pearls out to dry
Spreading a fashionable light
Overcome the misty day
Never a last goodbye – there's always tomorrow.
Are things ever the same after the rain?...
Tears of laughter bring a smile
For special moments we're eternally grateful
Take our memories of pain after the rain.
Colour of blue September morning
Bathe in a lighter shade of grey.
Change the storm I carry in my heart,
There's a brighter day.
Colour of blue September morning
Eyes of emotion tire and close,
Change my heart, change emotion.
Colour happy memories rose.
Change my heart, change emotion.
Colour happy memories rose.
(Excerpt from 'After The Rain' by Mark Carroll transcribed from Ruthie Henshall: 'Pilgrim').
X X X
Conversation was minimal as they drove home with the only really substantive comments from either of them being on the weather and the amount of rain D.C. had had since morning.
Sam parked his car outside Alexandra's apartment. He got out and locked the driver's side door and went round to the passenger side to help her out.
"I'm capable of walking Sam. I may be dying but my legs do still work for the moment." Sam took a step back but closed the door behind her.
"I'm sorry. I was trying to be nice." He held his hands up to placate her. "I'm sorry."
Alex led the way to her apartment and opened the door. Sam followed on behind, nervously leafing through the pamphlets that he had been given. They sat down side by side on the comfortable sofa but with a noticeable gap between them.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Alex asked.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Shouldn't you be getting ready? It's a State Dinner. You're meant to be there."
"I'm not going."
"I would have thought that you have to go; you're the Deputy Communications Director. You wrote the toast."
"Toby and I wrote the toast and seeing as the toast is all written that's really all I can do with it. My being there or not will make no difference to the way the President delivers the speech, nor to the places he digresses."
"You should go. Have a good night. I won't be much company."
"I want to stay. I think that we need to be together. I think we need to talk."
"I don't want to talk right now. You should go."
"Lexa, I can't. I can't leave you like this."
"I want the time alone, Sam. I need to get my head around this, it's a big thing. Leave me the pamphlets; I'll read them and get things straight."
"You're sure?"
"Go. You can't miss this."
"I'll go, but I'm coming back here after and I'm coming to the doctor's with you in the morning."
"Don't you need to go to work?"
"I'll pretend I have a hangover. Nothing is going to stop me from being with you."
"You don't have to do this you know, Sam. If you wanted to run now I would understand."
"I'm not going to do that. We're in this together." Alexandra nodded. "Anyway, if I'm going I'd better... go."
"Get into your tux. Do me a favour though, make sure you're still wearing it when you come back here tonight."
"Why?"
"Because I never could say no to man in a tuxedo. You look very sweet in your little bow tie and..."
"I'm going now."
"See you tonight?"
"Count on it."
X X X
Against his better judgement Sam took a steady drive back to his apartment, his mind rapidly trying to process all the information that he had received in the space of one very short afternoon.
As he neared his apartment his cell phone rang so he pulled into the side of the road to answer it. The caller ID told him that it was Josh calling, from his apartment, no less. Sam was very impressed that Josh had actually managed to find his way home, given the infrequency with which he actually made it there.
"Josh?"
"Sam, s'up?"
"Nothing. What do you want?"
"I was wondering..."
"What do you want Josh?"
"Can you pick me up tonight, give me a lift back in for the State Dinner?"
"And you can't drive yourself because...?"
"I want to have a drink tonight and I don't want to have to bother about getting home after; I know that you won't drink so I thought it would be an ideal solution."
"Fine. I'll come by and get you at 6.30."
"Thanks, Sam."
"Yeah."
"Sam, you O.K.? You sound very tort. Very tight. Is everything O.K.?"
"It's fine Josh."
"K. I'll see you at 6.30, then."
"O.K." Sam pushed the button that ended the call and pulled out into the main stream of traffic to complete the journey to his apartment. He thought about grabbing something to eat when he got in, but the unsettled feeling in his stomach put him off the idea.
X X X
Sam had been home and donned his tux and was parked up outside Josh Lyman's apartment at 6.30pm on the dot, punctual to a fault. Sam sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for his friend. He saw Josh's head appear at the window about fifteen minutes later, register his car was parked down there and followed by his arrival forthwith.
"Josh, you're late."
"Sorry. I thought you'd come up when you got here."
"I didn't. I thought I should wait down here."
"You ready?"
"I am now you've arrived. We should go."
"Sam, I know I asked you this on the phone; are you O.K?"
"Fine, Josh." With the sharp tone of Sam's answer, Josh decided that he would leave well alone and accept the answer Sam had given, despite the feeling he had to the contrary. Instead he decided to change the subject.
"By the way, I found out why Donna was pissed at me."
"Yeah?"
"Turns out she wasn't actually pissed at me. Doctor Freeride whom she was dating before she joined the campaign and then went back to and then finished with again, called by her apartment to see her while her new guy was there bringing the end to another one of Donna's no good men where things never actually go anywhere. She projected her anger toward him onto me."
X X X
The State Dinner was a very grand event; all the gentlemen in tuxedoes and all the ladies in beautiful ball gowns. The East Room was decorated beautifully with flags and bunting, it looked very sumptuous as all the guests drank from the finest crystal glasses, served to them on silver trays.
The French President, Delacroix, was being introduced to all the important parties present by President Bartlet while the First Lady took Madame Delacroix under her wing for the more social element of the dinner. They would all be reunited for the meal of course and then the French couple would be given free rein to walk around the party as they pleased.
On their arrival, Sam and Josh headed toward C.J. and Toby, who were both in a corner talking to the British Ambassador, Lord John Marbury.
"This White House has an impeccable selection of alcoholic beverages." Lord John Marbury commended. Toby raised his glass. C.J. was wearing a cobalt blue dress of shot-silk, a bodice shaped top coming out into a skirt that hung beautifully, she looked the picture of elegance, her glass gently balanced between two fingers; she was definitely flirting.
"Ah. Samuel. Joshua!" Marbury said as the two joined the group. "You appear to be arriving a little late."
"The way Sam was driving I'm impressed we made it here at all." Josh said. "His mind was anywhere but where it should have been." C.J. stole a quick glance; Sam not being his usual careful self on the road was worrying. If there was one thing on which Sam prided himself, it was his exemplary driving record; he had never had a parking ticket, never jumped a light, he had never had an accident, never bumped his car, not even a minor transgression. Nothing.
Lord John caught sight of a rapidly moving blur behind Josh's shoulder, after which he called:
"Gerald!" You could practically see Leo cringe and look for some form of escape. Unfortunately for him, no quick exit route made itself available.
"Your Lordship. Is everything all right?"
"Excellent, Gerald. Excellent. Toby here has been telling me you've been testing your missile shield again. Have you finally managed to get it to work yet?"
"Not perhaps in the way that you mean."
"Ah. Still missing the target, then!" Lord John turned back to the group of four. If you will excuse me gentlemen, Principessa, I wish to speak some more with Gerald about his toy." The four Senior Staffers did their best to hide their grins, as they all knew the disdain Leo showed towards the eccentricities of the British Ambassador.
"Is everything O.K. Sam?" C.J. asked. Josh's comment about Sam's driving had really caused her concern.
"It's fine, C.J."
"You look stressed." Added Toby.
"I'm really not, Toby. I would be even less so if people stopped asking me questions about whether or not I'm stressed. If you'll excuse me." Sam left the three and entered the throngs of people, effectively becoming lost from the view of the others. C.J. and Toby both looked to Josh to see if he could spread any light on the situation; maybe something that he wouldn't have been able to mention in front of Sam. All he could do, though, was shrug.
X X X
Sam was feeling overwhelmed. So much so that he felt the need to get out of the room where all the people were crowded and constantly moving. For the first time in his life he felt claustrophobic, he felt light-headed from the movement and the bustle and a pressure was building up in his chest. The only way he could see of relieving the pressure would be to find a quiet corner in a nice cool hallway where he could get his head together and get some fresh air.
As he escaped the confines of the room he started to feel the pressure begin to lift a little. He decided he would go to the men's room and splash a little water on his face but on his way he felt his stomach become unsettled, he increased his pace and his arrival at the men's room could not come too soon. He ran into the stalls as the dry heaves started to come. He was grateful that he had not had anything to eat for a while. He bent down over the toilet bowl and all the pressure that had been lurking beneath the surface since their consultation with the doctor began to release itself. Sam was so intensely occupied that he did not here the door open, nor the footsteps as they headed across the tiled floor to see who was being so violently ill.
"Sam?" Sam still didn't register the other person, who stepped from where they had observed Sam and ran a towel under the faucet. He then went up behind him and placed a hand on his back and started rubbing in rhythmic circles. "Sam? What's wrong? You sick? Take it easy there." The litany of comforting words continued as Sam felt the constricted breaths subside, then he felt the damp towel that was gently being applied to his face.
Sam turned around and for the first time saw who his Florence Nightingale was.
"Toby?" he managed, the bile leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He still felt light-headed, the sensation disorientating him.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm fine."
"Sam." Toby warned.
"Toby. I'm sorry, can I just... can I just sit down for a moment, please." Toby helped Sam down to the floor and propped him up against the wall of the stall.
"What was that about Sam?"
"It was nothing. I'm fine."
"What was it about?" Sam opened his mouth to reply. "Sam, if you're about to say that you're fine, I'm not going to be impressed."
"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that."
"Well, I did, so why not tell me what it was all about?"
"I'd really like to do that, Toby, I would, but it's not something I can talk about right now."
"If you're sick, you should go home."
"I'm not sick."
"After that little performance I think you should go home anyway. I don't think it would make a good impression if you collapsed, or threw up, or something at the feet of the wife of the French President. All our good work on the toast, our moves toward strengthening an alliance that has, in the past, been unstable to say the least, would be compromised in one fell swoop."
"I'm meant to be driving Josh home. He wanted to drink tonight, that's why I gave him a lift in."
"Sam, if Josh has anything stronger than a glass of mineral water he's drunk and he'll just pass out in his office. Besides, even if he wants to go home he can get a cab."
"But..."
"Sam, screw it. Forget Josh, go home and get some rest. Also, I don't expect you in first thing in the morning tomorrow. Take the time and feel better."
"Thank you, Toby." Sam smiled gratefully. Then Toby considered as an afterthought.
"Are you going to be able to drive yourself home?"
"Yeah."
"Do you wanna go sit down somewhere to get your head together?"
"Thanks. That would be good." Then it occurred to Sam. "What are you going to tell everyone?"
"I'll tell them that you're sick."
"Toby..."
"Take it or leave it Sam. You either let me tell them that you're feeling under the weather or I give them graphic details of those few minutes we've just experienced together."
"The first one is good."
"I thought so." Toby looked proud of himself. "Look, I'll take you to my office, I'll leave you there by yourself; no one will disturb you. Then, when you feel up to it, you can take yourself home. I'll pick up my cell phone too, if you want me or you decide that you want a lift home, call me and I'll take you."
"Thank you, Toby." Sam let Toby help him up and lead him down the corridor; the shortness of breath induced from his sickness had made him very tired, so much so that he did not object when Toby put a hand on his back and gently guided him down the hallways, it also helped control the dizzying affect of his disorientation.
Once Sam had settled on his sofa, Toby prepared to leave.
"Is there anything else you want?"
"No. I'm good. Thanks."
"Fine. Don't come in tomorrow unless you're up to it. We've not got much on."
"O.K." Toby nodded to himself as his mental checklist of questions and things to tell Sam had been completed and he left his deputy in his office sitting quietly. He closed the door softly behind him and Sam was alone with his thoughts.
For his part, Sam was adamant that he was going to get himself round to Alex's and although he appreciated the offer and Toby's unusually overt shows of concern, he was going to do it alone. This was not the sort of thing he needed to concern the others with; they all had their own problems and concerns, they did not need to be burdened with all the things that were going through his head too. Furthermore, he saw no way in which them knowing would be beneficial to anyone; there was nothing any of them could do, plus they would probably think that he was overreacting, after all, he was not the one who was dying.
Sam supposed one good thing had come from Toby finding him in the men's room once he had overcome the embarrassment of the whole situation: it meant that he could get back to Alex sooner than he had intended without worrying that it would appear that he was ducking out of his obligations at the White House.
After five minutes of sitting there, Sam decided that it was now or never and dragged himself up and out to his car, forcing himself to concentrate as he drove around to Alexandra's apartment.
X X X
Josh was flying about the ballroom, dodging the tuxedoed and gowned guests. He had lost sight of Sam and wanted to make sure that he was still O.K. to give him a lift home. Not able to spy Sam, he spotted Toby forcing his way across the floor.
"Toby!" Josh called, waving his hands emphatically to get the Director of Communications' attention. "Toby!" Seeing Josh, Toby changed his course of direction and headed over to him. "Toby, have you seen Sam?"
"He's gone home."
"He's gone?"
"Yeah, a few minutes ago."
"Oh come on! He was meant to be giving me a lift."
"Josh." Toby warned.
"He just took off without telling anyone?"
"He didn't just 'take off'; he told me."
"He went just like that?" Josh looked flummoxed. He couldn't believe Sam had just had the audacity to leave him, he couldn't help but feel persecuted.
"He's sick, Josh. He wasn't feeling well, so he went home."
"He's O.K. though, right. I mean, you've seen how he's been lately."
"Yeah. I think he's fine. Hopefully he'll be better after a good night's sleep."
"Yeah." Toby could see Josh processing the information he had been given and Toby could tell he was contemplating going straight off to call Sam.
"Leave him be, Josh." Joshua did not look entirely convinced however the look he received from Toby dissuaded him from taking any action.
X X X
3rd-4th September
When Sam got back to Alexandra's apartment there was no sign of her.
"Lexie?" He called. "Lex?" He went over to her bedroom and pushed the door open gently and saw her asleep in the bed. Not wanting to begrudge her any precious rest, Sam decided that he would spend the night on the sofa, not that he saw getting off to sleep as even a possibility.
He spent a restless night flicking between CNN, under-whelmed with the golf feature that had been on for far too long and picking up and putting down books. In between he watched late night re-runs of 'Columbo', 'Murder She Wrote', 'Diagnosis Murder' and 'Ironside'. None of them exactly programmes Sam would have watched if he had had much choice, but it was preferable to sitting with only his tumultuous thoughts for company. He fidgeted the night long and was granted no respite through sleep, which was elusive to say the least.
At 7am, during what had seemed like his fifteenth consecutive episode of 'Diagnosis Murder', though it was in fact only the second, Sam was interrupted by Alexandra coming out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. It came as something of a relief to Sam as he had become adamant that if the little blond doctor had a mild concussion once more, he would do his best to ensure that he most certainly did; method acting on an extreme level!
"Morning." She said. "What time did you get in last night?"
"I didn't really notice." Sam lied.
"Sorry I was in bed. I was tired, I needed to sleep."
"Sure."
"How did the thing go last night? Your toast was good?"
"Yeah. It was fine. It went..." Sam waved his hand dismissively; he was hanged if he was going to admit that Toby had sent him home after his display in the men's room before the President had given the toast. Just as his friends at work would not want to hear about his problems, it was not fair that he burden Alex with such things either.
"Do you want some breakfast?"
"No, I'm good. I had something a little earlier." Sam lied. He couldn't face eating yet, not until after their visit to the doctor's office.
"O.K." Alex got herself a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice, which she quickly ate; then she went to get ready.
X X X
They were sitting in the doctor's office once more, the same configuration as on the previous occasion.
"...Now, to talk to you about treatment." Alex nodded. "You've had a chance to look at the pamphlets, I hope."
"Yeah." Alex said.
"Good, good. Now to talk about contingency plans; any questions you may have, feel free to ask as we go along. Do you have anything before we start?" Sam stared straight ahead stoically, shaking his head, Alex, far more aloof today than she was the day before said:
"Actually, I do." Schumann shifted his attention so he was looking directly at Alexandra. "I was thinking last night; I don't want treatment." Dr. Schumann nodded. Sam's eyes widened, almost to the point where it looked as if it would not be unlikely for them to pop out of his head.
"Excuse me?" He said.
"I can't go through that again."
"What again?" Sam asked, confused. "I don't understand."
"Sam, the specialist I went to see and who did the tests was my oncologist. He explained what he thought could have happened and warned me that this could be a relapse."
"A relapse?" Sam was confused, his head was spinning. This at least went some way to explaining how calm Alexandra had been.
"When I was younger the doctors found a malignant tumour near my spine, they managed to operate and remove it and after a lot of aggressive treatment I went into remission. My oncologist did say that this ALL could have been caused by that radiotherapy. It could have caused the mutation of the healthy cells that have continued to mutate over the years..."
"Till today." Sam finished.
"Till today." Dr. Schumann watched quietly as the couple talked to each other. "I read the things but I know the side effects. It may give me a couple extra months, but the extra months the treatment gives me won't actually constitute any more time because I'll feel lousy the whole way. It just means I'll have months feeling bad for no longer time feeling good at the end. It's not worth it and it's not worth wasting resources on me when they won't do any good."
"You can't mean that!" Sam protested.
"I can't go through it all again, Sam. You have to understand that. I don't have the energy this time. I was sixteen before, I wanted to live, now...I'd rather enjoy the time I have left, no matter how long or short. I don't want to go through all of that again." Dr. Schumann nodded. It was almost as if the news didn't come as a surprise to him, Sam thought, which of course, it wouldn't, he had seen her medical records, after all.
"Surely you can't be behind this?" Sam's ire flashed toward the doctor. "There's always hope. There are always new things to try."
"I think it's very brave. I also think it could be the right thing in this case. Any time you get at the other end of treatment will be countered by the side effects of the treatment period. Hope of remission would almost come beyond the scope of a miracle. I don't want to sway anyone's opinion, but I think it is what I would do." Sam couldn't believe it. He was about to start shouting about the Hippocratic Oath and the Patient's Bill of Rights, even wanting to dredge up some of the things he had seen on TV: ER, Chicago Hope, (Diagnosis Murder!!) but was unable to get his mouth and brain to co-ordinate and construct such arguments.
"I've already written my letter of resignation. I went to post it on my way in."
That's where she disappeared to on the way, Sam thought. I can't believe she didn't tell me. As such, Sam spent the remainder of the meeting in indignant silence.
"About your regimen; you'll need to take vitamin and mineral supplements, to boost your immune system, I'd also feel happier if you took regular iron supplements too, to combat anaemia. You're going to have to be careful because you will be very susceptible to anything contagious and at the first sign of any symptoms of anything, you must come back to me straight away..."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't tell you about my past because it is all in the past." Alexandra said. "I was afraid you'd try and change my mind."
"I would have."
They sat in silence as Sam drove them back.
"Lex, just so you know, I'll stand by you. I may not agree with your decision but I'll stand by you and respect your choice."
"Thank you." Alexandra looked out of the passenger side window, while Sam concentrated on the road ahead. "When do you need to be in at work? Didn't Toby get mad when you told him that you'd be late in?"
"It's fine. There's not much on." He thought for a moment. "I could call in sick if you want. So that we can spend some time together."
"No. You should go in. We wouldn't want the country falling down around our ears while you're enjoying a day off with me."
"How do you do it?"
"What?"
"Be so damn philosophical. If that was me I'd be fighting tooth and nail. I'd want for every kind of treatment possible, more than anything I'd want a cure."
"I've done that before Sam but this time you have to accept I can't; that there isn't. I want you to understand. You've heard everything the doctor had to say, you heard what I had to say...let's be realistic. We'll make the most of the time we have left together."
"Fine." Sam sounded testy. "One thing, though."
"What's that?"
"Will you move in with me? Into my apartment? I want us to be together. It's just that my apartment's bigger, it's nearer the hospital, the doctors, the White House. We could move you in tonight."
"Yeah. That means I can sell my apartment and tidy up my affairs ready."
"Yeah." That was not the response that Sam had been expecting and facing the reality of death frightened him beyond belief.
"It's ironic really," she murmured, "the very thing that saved my life the last time is actually going to kill me."