Chapter Fifteen
Bartlet was sitting in semidarkness at his desk. Leo stood in the doorway watching him for a while before walking into the Oval Office.
"Clear Star shares jumped five points," he said as he walked over to the desk.
Bartlet looked at him over his glasses. "And who told you that would happen?"
"My sister's stockbroker?"
"Well, it was me actually but I'll let it go." He took off his glasses, nodded towards the sofa and went and sat on the chair opposite. "Why did Jason Chawton tell Charlie that he hoped to still be here when the next State of the Union is being written?"
Leo leaned forward and spent a few moments more than necessary getting comfortable. "That would probably be because he has heard that Sam might not be back by then."
"This is going to be one of those conversations where I discover that despite being pretty important around here, I haven't the first idea of what's actually going on."
Leo raised his eyes and smiled. "You know what's going on! I just sometimes keep things from you so that you can be protected when-"
"Spill it, Leo," Bartlet said and leant back in his chair.
Leo copied his action. He had a feeling he was going to be here for some time. "CJ and Toby are getting worried about some of the statements Sam's father has been making so they suggested that Sam write a statement that would let CJ quash the speculation that Sam's relationship with the administration isn't what it was."
"Leo, I said spill it, not beat it around the bush."
"Some of the press are getting very interested in the notion that Sam is bitter about what happened, angry at you, and that he agrees with his father that we didn't do enough to get him back."
"Go on," Bartlet's face showed no emotion.
"CJ got a statement from Sam. In it, Sam talks about his time at the White House in the past tense. He lists people he wants to thank and the secret service and anyone from the administration are conspicuous by their absence."
Bartlet shook his head. "So apart from the fact that Sam doesn't want to work here anymore and is full of anger, blame and bitterness- I really haven't missed much at all." He stood up and walked towards the outer office. "Charlie, if CJ or Toby is still here, I want a copy of Sam's statement. If they've already left you better get them back here, because I want it now."
Bartlet walked back into the room and sat down opposite Leo. "How are you handling this?"
"Sam's not ready to work anywhere yet. We don't need to worry about that for a while. CJ's dealing with the press. Apart from that there's not a lot I can do. I went to see him the other day."
"You didn't mention that. How was he?" Jed sat forward, his gaze fixed on Leo.
"He looked bad. I didn't know what to expect. I mean, I knew the bruises would all be gone but I didn't expect him to look so ill. That's why I'm not too worried about his unofficial resignation. He doesn't look anywhere near being able to go back to work."
Bartlet run a hand over his face and sighed.
"He kept trying to hide his hand like he was embarrassed of it," Leo said quietly.
"Sometimes I wonder what the hell-" Leo never found out what the hell Bartlet wondered as Charlie chose that moment to enter the room and hand him a copy of Sam's statement. Leo told his friend that he would be next door if he needed him. Bartlet sat back down at his desk and put his glasses back on. He read the statement twice before putting it into a drawer. He walked next door to Leo's office and stood, hands in pockets, in the doorway.
"You get him back, Leo. You do whatever it takes. We are not going to sit back and watch someone, who refused to allow others to destroy him, destroy himself."
Leo nodded and answered that he intended on doing just that, but he waited until his friend had left before he slumped wearily into his chair and set about thinking exactly how he was going to do it.
Almost two months had passed since Sam had been back at home. The bruises were gone, his ribs were healed and he had made a good recovery from the pneumonia. His reluctance to let anyone see him using his hand had increased though and everyone had commented on how he had developed the habit of folding his arms so that his right hand was tucked beneath his left. The door to the spare room where Judy worked was always closed and if anyone did stay over they would find that Sam had covered up her equipment with a throw.
Judy's notes on Sam told of a client who found physical therapy difficult. She described how working on his hand made Sam anxious. She noted her concerns that he was not following her advice and was not fully dedicated to carrying out the exercises between sessions that were vital if he was to gain full value from her work with him.
Sam rarely left the apartment but somehow managed to cope with his increasing attacks of claustrophobia and with his fear of what would happen if he went outside. He spent an increasing amount of time sitting on his balcony; still safe in his home but able to look beyond its four walls.
He was sitting like that when Toby and Josh called early one evening. The sound of the buzzer pulling Sam reluctantly away from his position on the floor where he had been sitting watching the car lights slowly becoming discernible as the last light of the day, faded.
"We bring pizza," Josh said as he barged through the door and past Sam.
"And beer," Toby added as he followed Josh into the kitchen.
"Well don't mind me, I just live here," Sam said, although he didn't think the way he existed anymore could be called living.
He entered the kitchen and watched Josh place slices of pizza on three plates while Toby set about opening the bottles of beer.
Sam started to clear away the mess that Josh had already managed to create but quickly stopped when he realised how noticeable the shaking of his right hand was. He moved to the doorway and folded his arms, tucking his right hand out of view, unaware of Toby's slight frown at the action. He followed his two uninvited guests into the living room and took a plate that was handed to him by Josh.
"What've you been doing today?" Josh asked through a mouthful of pizza.
Sam looked at the string of cheese that dangled from the slice Josh was holding and put his own slice back on his plate.
"Not much. A friend called this morning."
"Did you go out?" Toby asked hopefully.
"It was raining," Sam explained.
"Did you lose your umbrella?"
"I didn't get a glass for myself," Sam mumbled as he got up and effectively ended the conversation. He threw the empty pizza boxes away and opened the window. He picked up a glass and filled it with water which he gulped down and refilled before returning to the other room.
Josh and Toby kept their gaze on the TV as Sam sat down and put his plate back on his lap. The living room was filled with the smell of pizza and Sam swallowed hard as he picked up a slice and held it over the plate.
"Pizza delivery! Get it while it's hot. Don't puke it back up this time you filthy fuck!"
Sam shuddered at the memory of Incul's words. Most of the food he had been given had been cold and unrecognisable. The pizza had been brought in by Incul and put on the floor by Sam's bed. It had been the only food he had been given that was still warm.
Sam brought the slice to his mouth and took a bite. Josh had finished his already and was busy trying to persuade Toby let him have the last slice as Toby needed to watch his waistline.
Sam picked at a string of cheese that was escaping over the side of his plate. He remembered reading once about the sense of smell being the mind's strongest trigger for memories. He knew it was true now as the smell of the pizza brought back images of Incul with a vividness that made Sam almost feel the damp of the room he had been held in.
He could see Incul's foot. He had been beaten and his head was on the floor and he could see Incul's foot. It had loomed towards him and faded as the pain flared through his stomach. When he had looked again the foot was stepping backwards away from him. It stepped onto the half finished pizza that was next to Sam's bed. Sam had heard a curse and then closed his eyes as the foot came closer again. He had prepared himself for the blow but it never came. Incul continued to curse as he wiped the pizza off his shoe and onto Sam. Each swipe of his foot across Sam's chest sent waves of pain from his broken ribs. Sam was aware he was being pulled upwards but the pain he was in made the pain of being dragged up by his hair almost unnoticeable. He had been struck once and purposefully thrown face down into the remnants of the pizza.
The plate clattered to the floor as Sam sprung up. Toby spun around at the noise but Sam was already headed to the bathroom. Josh asked Toby what was going on and he shrugged and followed Sam.
"Sam?" Toby knocked on the bathroom door. The sound of Sam retching was his only reply. Toby waited silently until finally he heard the sound of the toilet being flushed. "You want a glass of water?" he called through the door.
"Yeah, yeah please." Sam emerged a few moments later and took the glass from Toby. "Sorry about that…I can't stomach…they gave me pizza…I just felt sick, sorry."
"They gave you pizza," Josh said, "and it made you throw up having to eat it again."
"Josh!" Toby warned but Josh carried on.
"No, I'm sick of this hopping around, running away when anyone mentions what happened. We were eating pizza, Sam, and then you went running off to throw up. Now either you're ill in which case we should call a doctor, or you're upset in which case you should talk to us. You should talk to us, Sam, because you can't keep on pretending that nothing is wrong."
Toby closed his eyes. They had planned to come here tonight and talk to Sam about his statement. Toby had a feeling that Sam wouldn't be inclined to talk about anything now. Toby looked at Josh whose gaze was locked with Sam's. Josh was daring Sam to back down, daring him to tell him that nothing was wrong. Josh, Toby decided, looked very volatile.
Sam put the glass down and folded his arms tightly around his waist. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know what you expect of me."
"I don't expect anything but I can't keep standing by and watching you go deeper and deeper into whatever hellhole you seem intent on burrowing into."
Sam looked away from Josh and walked back to his seat. He picked the pizza up from the floor and placed it back on his plate. "They gave me pizza."
Josh and Toby stayed silent.
"They brought a meal in every night. I had to eat with my fingers. I remember being glad when it was pizza as I could eat it with my fingers and not feel…" Sam's voice trailed off. Toby didn't care if he didn't say how he felt then as long as he told them how he felt now.
"I was sick a lot. I tried to eat what they gave me but it was hard. I ate some of the pizza. Incul came in and stepped in what was left which made him mad. It didn't take much to make Incul mad," Sam turned away from them and walked around the back of the sofa. "He wiped it on me then beat me again and when he was done he…" Sam rested his hands on the back of the sofa. He didn't want to tell them anymore. He had sworn that he wouldn't tell them anything. It was bad enough that he knew how weak he had been without describing it to his friends. "Can we open a window or something? The smell's making me want to throw again."
Toby forced himself to move from where he had stood transfixed and pulled the curtains and opened the window. A gush of fresh air and sounds from the street below filled the room. Toby took a deep breath before turning around and walking back over to Sam. "Think you can manage some crackers or something?" At Sam's nod he walked quickly to the kitchen signalling to Josh to follow him.
They worked silently. Both had spent enough time at Sam's to know their way around the kitchen. By the time they returned to the living room, Sam was laying on the sofa watching a movie. "Is this the second or the third one?" he asked Josh.
"Who's in it?" Josh said as he handed Sam a plate of dry, odourless food. Sam listed the actors he recognised. "It's the second one, we should watch, it has that cool car chase where they go under all the trucks."
Toby sipped at his beer, listening to the continuous screech of car brakes and watching Sam. He knew Sam's statement and resignation wouldn't be mentioned tonight but at least Sam had started to talk about his ordeal. It was a ray of hope, a very small one but Toby clutched at it nonetheless.
Sam looked around and was surprised to find he felt comfortable being back in the White House. He entered the Communications Bullpen and walked towards his office but stopped when he saw a figure sitting outside it. He was sitting on a chair that was tipped against the wall, whistling in-between swigging from the bottle that he held. Sam felt a wave of fear pass through him as he recognised the man; it was Incul.
Sam was sure Incul hadn't seen him. He seemed more intent on keeping his balance on his chair as he lifted the bottle to his lips again. Sam dived into Toby's office and shut the door quickly behind him. Toby didn't look up at the sound of the intrusion.
"Toby!" Sam walked over to his desk and placed his hands on it. "Toby! You have to call Ron. Incul is outside."
Without looking at Sam, Toby reached for the phone and dialled. Sam stood in disbelief as Toby started to reel off an order for pizza.
"Toby, listen to me! Incul is outside, you have to help me."
"He wants to speak to you," Toby said and passed the phone to Sam.
Sam stared dumbfounded at Toby who held the phone out to him without looking up. He put the receiver to his ear and listened.
"Okay Sam, we understand. You hold on son, you hear me. It will be over soon. I mean it, Sam, we're not giving up so don't you dare either."
"Leo?" Sam looked at Toby but he had turned to his filing cabinet. "Leo, please, please help me!"
Toby wasn't looking and Leo wasn't listening.
Sam backed away from the door when he heard the scrape of the chair outside as Incul righted it and stood up. Sam spun around. Toby was still standing with his back to him even though Incul was now standing in the doorway.
"God, please, someone help me!" Sam said but it was useless; no one was paying any attention. The door slammed closed and Incul walked towards him. The blows came in quick succession.
"Toby! Stop them, help me!"
Toby returned to his desk reading the file he was carrying as he walked. He sat down and carried on with his writing. "Just ignore him, Sam and you'll be fine. Don't make a noise. Don't cry out and for God's sake don't beg!" Toby scratched at his forehead and turned the page of his pad. "Don't let them see your fear. Don't let them win. That's all you have to do. If you do that we'll come and get you."
Sam could taste blood. Incul was laughing as he continued to pelt Sam with his hands and feet.
Behind Incul, Sam could see a figure enter the room. The figure walked towards Incul and patted him on the back. He knelt down beside Sam, his face was obscured by shadows but as he leant closer to Sam a ray of sunlight revealed his identity.
"You shouldn't have begged," Sam heard the President whisper as his face disappeared above him.
Sam struggled upwards but his arms were being held firmly, "Sam! Calm down, it's alright, you're alright. You were having a nightmare."
Sam could hear Toby's voice and feel his hands holding onto him. "I didn't…I didn't…I…" Toby told Sam to shush but he continued. "I didn't beg, I didn't, when they beat me I didn't make a sound…didn't make a sound…that's how I fought them."
Toby stared at Sam and tried to make sense of what he was saying. Sam's eyes were wide and he was staring back at Toby, desperately trying to make him understand. He grabbed hold of Toby's arms. Toby could feel Sam's left hand tighten as his frustration mounted. He could feel Sam's right hand too and tried not to think about the pathetic hold that the injured hand had.
"Every time he beat me I didn't make a sound," Sam's left hand squeezed Toby's arm even more tightly. "But in the cellar…it was too much…I couldn't take it…Mael wouldn't let go…it wouldn't stop…wouldn't…and I couldn't be quiet anymore."
"Shush, just lie back, Sam, try to relax."
"When they broke my hand …I begged…pleaded… I begged them not to…begged them…I didn't mean to…tried to keep quiet…tried…I tried to…"
Sam's hands fell away from Toby who lowered him gently down again. Sam continued to mumble and so Toby told him that he knew, that it was okay, that he knew he had tried. He gave Sam a few moments to get himself together, waiting for his breathing to slow and his eyes to stop darting around the room.
Josh was still asleep. Toby had been about to leave Sam's place, leaving Josh in an undignified sprawl on the sofa, when he had heard the moans coming from Sam's room. He had sat on the bed and watched Sam's distress before shaking him awake.
Sam was lying with his hands over his face now. Toby knew he would be embarrassed and already regretting what he had said but he also knew that this was a good opportunity to get Sam to open up to him.
"Unaccustomed as I am to speaking like a daytime TV host, do you want to talk about it?" Toby asked, pleased when his words caused Sam to remove his hands and look at him. He shook his head and started to turn away but Toby's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Talk to me. It's just you and me."
Slowly Sam turned onto his back again and mumbled something.
"I can't hear you," Toby said.
"I said what do you want me to say?"
"I don't care what you say just talk to me just…talk."
Sam pushed himself up the bed and sighed deeply. "I know you're worried, everyone's worried, but there's not much I can do about that. I'm doing the best I can. I don't know what else I can do."
"Do you really think anyone is falling for this?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I've just sat and listened to you pleading with me to help you-"
"I was having a nightmare-"
"Shut up and listen. I've just sat and listened to that and now I'm meant to listen to you telling me you're doing the best you can when you can't even leave your own apartment without having to be rescued from the sidewalk."
"How did you…he shouldn't have told you that."
"Yes he should! How can we help you if we don't know what's going on? You're not doing the best you can, Sam, because you're not doing anything at all."
Sam sat up and grabbed hold of Toby's arm. "Everything frightens me," he whispered and the candid admission made Toby's stomach lurch.
"I know."
"I don't want them to win. They're still winning because I'm still afraid."
"Then stop being afraid. Get back in the game. Stop being a prisoner in your own home." Toby placed his hand on top of Sam's and squeezed it. Sam lay back down and closed his eyes but Toby stayed until he was sure he was asleep. He collected his coat from where he had dropped it and walked back into the living room. Josh was still fast asleep, his arms folded across his chest and one hand clutching the remote control. Toby threw a blanket over him and left.