Chapter Seventeen
The cup landed at the President's feet and then rolled away again until it hit the leg of the coffee table. The gentle chink that heralded the end of its journey seemed to propel everyone into action. Sam leapt from his seat and tried to catch the tea that was dribbling down his arm. Toby stood and fumbled in his pocket for a tissue. The President stood as well and Sam turned to him. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, I'm sorry."
"It doesn't matter, Sam. It's fine, don't worry about it." Bartlet walked towards Sam who was unaware of the handkerchief that Toby was waving at him.
"Toby, are you trying to surrender?" Bartlet quipped as he took the cloth from him and handed it to Sam. "You need to let someone take a look at that," he said as he reached out and took hold of Sam's right hand.
"Don't!" Sam shouted pulling his hand out of Bartlet's grasp and cradling it against his chest.
Toby took a step towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder but Sam flinched away from him as well. He took a step backwards and found himself stumbling into the President. Bartlet instinctively held onto Sam and steadied him but all Sam knew was that he was being grabbed, his hand hurt and he was being grabbed. He lurched forward, pushed past Toby and rushed from the room.
"I better…" Toby pointed to the door.
"Go, go," Bartlet said before sitting heavily in his chair. "Well that went nearly as well as when I visited him in hospital." CJ and Josh glanced at each other and continued to sit in silence. After a few more moments of staring at the carpet, Bartlet rose from his chair and returned to his desk. "Thank you," he said and looked down at his work.
"Thank you, Mr President," Josh and CJ replied and quickly left the room.
Toby entered the Communications Bullpen and nodded thankfully at Ginger as she pointed towards the men's room. He pushed the door open slowly, wary of startling Sam again. Sam wasn't even aware Toby had entered the room. He was standing holding onto the sink and staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Sam?" Toby walked slowly towards him. "Sam, what happened back there?" Even as the words left his mouth Toby knew what a stupid thing it was to say. Sam had freaked, that is what had happened and by the way he was gazing at his reflection it was pretty clear to Toby that he still was.
Toby knew that touching Sam was going to alarm him but that was preferable to the unresponsive man that stood before him now. He reached forward and gently placed his hand on Sam's arm. He felt Sam tense and saw his grip on the sink tighten. "Please, leave me alone."
Toby looked at Sam's right hand which was red and slightly blistered. "You need to run some water on your hand."
Toby knew touching Sam's hand was out of the question so he reached in front of him and turned the faucet on instead. The cold water began to fill the sink and the noise of it took Sam's attention away from the mirror. He looked down and watched as the water rose towards the rim of the basin. When the sink was nearly full Toby placed his hand on Sam's back with the intention of encouraging him to release his hands from their death-grip on the porcelain.
Sam sprung away from the sink and stumbled back towards the wall. "You don't need to…I'm awake…please don't, I'll do what you say."
Toby held his arms out and walked away from Sam. "Okay, I won't, that's fine. Don't worry." He continued to walk backwards until he reached the door.
"Ginger!" She came hurrying over to Toby. Everyone knew that something was going on and Toby was annoyed to see more members of staff gathered in the Bullpen than usual. "Make sure no one goes in there." She hurried over to the door of the men's room while Toby headed for Josh's office only stopping to shout that if anyone who didn't work in the Bullpen was here when he returned he would see to it that today was their last day in the White House.
Josh was on the phone when Toby burst into his office. "I'll call you back," he said as he saw the expression on Toby's face.
"He's in the men's room but I don't think he knows where he is. I think he thinks he's back in that house."
"Oh shit," Josh muttered as he rushed past Toby. When he got to the door of the men's room and saw Ginger's anxious face he stopped and paused before taking a deep breath and opening the door.
"Why have we got these again?" Bartlet shouted at Charlie as he stormed out of the Oval Office and hurled a pile of folders on his desk.
"We've been using these for some time, Mr President. I didn't think it was a problem."
"Well it is a problem. I like the other ones, the ones that open out flat. Using these…it's like Mission Impossible every time I want to read a file."
"I'll change them, sir," Charlie said as he stood and picked up the files. He knew the President's anger was nothing to do with the type of storage file he was using but he busied himself anyway checking they were empty before throwing them in the trash and going to the stock room to find the ones that the President was insisting on using.
When he returned to the Oval with an armful of files he found Bartlet sitting on the sofa staring into space. He put the files on the desk and walked over to him.
"I've put them on your desk. I'll replace the other ones as we use them if that's okay?"
"Hmm? Oh…yes…okay, that's fine," Bartlet started to reach down for the cup that still lay on the floor.
"I've got it," Charlie said as he bent down and picked it up. He picked up a napkin and started to mop up the spot of tea that remained on the carpet.
"Leave it, I'll do it," the President ordered. "It's my mess."
Josh was standing in the middle of the men's room unsure of what to do. Sam was sitting against the wall with his arms wrapped around his knees.
"Sam, look at me." Josh took a few tentative steps towards him. "Look at me!"
Sam flinched slightly when Josh raised his voice but he opened his eyes and looked up. "Go away, Josh."
Despite the sentiment of Sam's words, Josh visibly relaxed as he realised that he recognised him. He had feared that Sam would be in the throes of a flashback that he would be unable to coax him out of. He walked towards him and joined him on the floor.
"Sorry buddy, not going to happen." Josh sat close to Sam and he could feel his body shaking.
"When Toby…when he…it was like I was there again…like I was st-still…"
"I know," Josh said and he turned to face Sam, "I know," he repeated.
"Y-yeah, of course…you…yeah," Sam placed his elbows on his knees and covered his face.
"What happened back there, with the President, don't worry about it. He understands. We all do."
"Don't know what happened, just sl-slipped from my hand."
"Yeah, well, it was you, the Oval Office and fine bone china- the odds were pretty high to begin with."
Josh's attempt at humour resulted in Sam removing his hands from his face. "Will you take me home?"
"Yeah, what now?"
"No, when I can stand up."
"Okay." Josh leant back against the wall and waited. He didn't think Sam would be ready anytime soon, he was still shaking and his breathing was as erratic as it had been when Josh had first sat down. Josh closed his eyes and listened to Sam's short gasps in and shuddering breaths out. The space between the two was filled by the steady sound of the tap dripping into the sink of cold water.
Sam stretched his legs out and folded his arms across his chest.
"Try to calm down, Sam," Josh said quietly.
"I am," Sam answered but his tense breathing and tightly closed eyes made a mockery of his words.
There were thirty-two tiles on the ceiling of the men's room. Josh had guessed and then counted. He had guessed the exact number and felt quite proud of himself but didn't think Sam would be too interested in his accurate roof-tile estimates at the moment.
He was looking around for something else to count when Sam suddenly pushed himself further against the wall.
"What? What's wrong?" Josh asked sitting upright and turning towards him.
"Need to get out," Sam explained as he used Josh's shoulder to push himself up.
"Are you going to throw? Because if you're going throw I think we're better off in here."
"Outside, I need to get outside!" Sam shouted.
"Okay, okay." Josh helped Sam upright and held onto his arm.
Ginger, who was still standing outside was sent flying into Toby by the door as it was flung open. "Where are you going?" Toby called as he disentangled himself from Ginger.
"Outside," Josh called over his shoulder. Sam seemed to have lost his bearings and so let Josh lead him to the nearest exit. Once outside he pulled away from him and used a nearby pillar for support instead.
Josh stood against another pillar and folded his arms watching Sam who, now that he was outside, was quickly calming down. "What was that all about?" Josh asked.
"I was having a problem with the walls. They were," Sam held his arms out in front of his face and brought them whooshing towards him to demonstrate to Josh what the walls were doing.
Josh repeated the action. "Wow, that's something you don't want walls to do."
"Well, yeah," Sam agreed still breathing heavily.
"How long has that been going on?"
"Since he was in the hospital," Toby answered as he appeared and walked towards them. "You wanted the door to your room open in the hospital for the same reason you went flying out of your apartment and had to be rescued from the sidewalk the other week- you're claustrophobic aren't you, Sam?"
Sam looked away from Toby but he and Josh could see his nod. There was a moment's silence then Sam swung around the pillar he was holding onto and faced them. "Guess I came back to work too soon. I think what I'll do is just go. Maybe someone could thank the President for the tea which was a real delight."
Josh looked on as Sam started to walk away from them. He turned to Toby who shrugged in reply.
"Sam, do you still need a lift?" Josh called after him.
Sam stopped and walked back towards them. "Yeah, Josh, I need a lift, and I need you to drop me off right outside my apartment because as well as claustrophobia I also seem to have developed a fear of sidewalks. Did you know about that, Toby?"
Toby stared at Sam. His tone had been angry but his face and demeanour were anything but. Sam looked drained physically and emotionally. For a moment Toby considered pushing him like he had after the nightmare but he knew that if Sam didn't get out of the White House this instant the chances of him coming back on Monday were non-existent.
"No, I didn't know that. Let Josh take you home."
Sam looked like he was going to say something but then changed his mind and followed Josh back into the building.
The journey back was spent in silence. Sam rested his head against the window and stared out of it until they reached his apartment. Josh drove around the block twice, waiting until the parking spot directly opposite the entrance was free. Sam looked up at the sidewalk in the wing-mirror to make sure it was clear before getting out of the car and hurrying up the steps to the main entrance.
He left the door to his apartment open knowing Josh would be coming up and starting making coffee.
"You need to see someone," Josh announced as he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.
"I am," Sam said as he added an extra scoop of coffee to the filter.
"That's great! Why didn't you say something?"
"I just did," Sam stared at the drips of coffee as they slowly filled the jug. "The hospital arranged for someone to come here once a week."
"That's…that's great, Sam." Josh stood up and picked up two cups from the side. "Is it helping?"
"Yeah, it's working wonders. That's why I ran out of the Oval Office and spent the next half hour cowering in the men's room."
"It's not an instant fix. You have to give it time." The coffee jug was full so Josh reached past Sam and removed it from the machine.
Sam went to change out of his suit leaving Josh to finish the coffee. Josh found Sam sitting on the sofa examining his hand. He stopped the action immediately on seeing him.
"You should put something on that." Josh placed the cups on the table and sat. "Do you have some cream or something?"
"What for the coffee?" Sam asked.
"No, not for the- Jesus, Sam! Do you have some cream for the blisters on your hand?"
"Oh, no I don't." Sam reached for his cup, thankful that, unlike in the Oval Office, his hands weren't shaking.
Josh studied Sam carefully. He was pale and looked exhausted but Josh's patience had run out and he decided that tonight he would finally get Sam to open up. He took a long gulp of coffee and then put the cup down. "Was that a flashback earlier, is that what happened?"
Sam glanced at Josh and then reached for the remote control. He muted the sound and flicked through the channels. "I just felt ill, I just panicked. It was nothing."
Sam jumped at the sound of Josh's hand slamming down on the coffee table. "I am getting so sick of listening to this crap! I'm the guy who rescued you from the sidewalk the other day, the one who held your hand all night when you were so delirious you didn't know where you were, the one who just spent thirty minutes sitting on the floor of the men's room with you!" Sam stood up but so did Josh, who was ready to head him off if he tried to escape, "but none of this is helping you because every time something happens you dismiss it or pretend you're fine." Josh started pacing. "I try to get you to talk and you won't. Do you think that I don't know what you're going through? Do you think that I don't know what it's like to have someone try to kill you, to survive that, only to become a victim all over again because you can't get rid of the fear or of the memories? Do you think I don't know?"
Josh had stopped pacing and Sam looked up at him. "No, I know you do."
"Then let me help you." Josh walked slowly towards him. "Talk to me, tell me what happened, what's happening now."
Sam edged along the wall towards the kitchen. "No, I don't…I'm not…I can't."
"Yes you can, just sit down and talk to me."
"I'm not ready to, I need to get things straight-"
"Bullshit! You need to get things out, not churning around inside."
Sam made a final move for the kitchen but Josh placed his hand on his chest and stopped him. Sam stumbled but Josh's hold was firm and he held him upright. Sam stared at him, a glare of quiet defiance but Josh's uncompromising stare negated it.
Sam removed Josh's hand and walked slowly over to the drinks cabinet. He poured two large bourbons and returned to the sofa. Josh joined him and watched as Sam downed his drink, fetched the bottle and brought it back over to the coffee table.
"When I woke up the first time I thought I was hung over," Sam said as he stared at the glass in his hands. "It felt like that but I couldn't remember anything and then I saw that I wasn't at home. I could smell the damp and hear their voices. I knew I wasn't at home."
It was getting dark outside and as the light faded Sam's voice grew stronger. Josh thought about closing the curtains, switching on a lamp but now that he had got Sam to talk he wasn't going to do anything that might make him stop.
"…Mael and Incul came in. They wanted me awake so they took me over to the sink…
Josh didn't interrupt. He listened, he drank and he felt increasingly sick.
"…he came every night. I waited for him because I was too scared to be asleep when he came. It wasn't part of their plan, he was just an evil son of a bitch…"
It was dark outside. A street lamp was flickering. Its light crept over the windowsill and into the room. The other side of the room was illuminated by the light from the kitchen, in the middle, in the darkness, sat Sam.
"…I thought he'd cancel the Dinner or postpone it or something. If I'd been in the White House I'd have argued for that. I knew he wouldn't do it but I still couldn't quite believe it…I remember thinking he'd killed me…with that one decision he'd as good as killed me…"
Josh sat with his hands clasped and his arms resting on his knees. Sam had started to jump between the jumbled images in his head and Josh couldn't keep up with them. Now that Sam had started to talk he found that he couldn't stop.
"…I knew then, I knew they would kill me, I heard them…why didn't he stop it? Why didn't he tell Leo to make a deal with them? Why didn't he try to save me?"
Sam was quiet for a while and Josh filled both of their glasses. He hadn't said a word since Sam had started to speak.
"…I've tried, I keep trying, it's getting better, stronger. I can write quite a bit before it starts hurting…Judy says it will get better but…I can't, when I try to write, I can't…Judy thinks it will be okay…"
Josh ran his hand over his face and subconsciously covered his ear. It wasn't the sound of Sam crying that he was trying to block out but the words that the sobs were interspersed with.
"…I'm sorry…sorry…I can't…I'm frightened…all…the time…I can't see how…can't remember not being…I can't see how…get back…I can't get back to…before when…I wasn't afraid…"
Sam had stopped talking and Josh had moved over to the sofa beside him. Slowly, he placed his arm around Sam's shoulder. The sobs became less frequent until they faded and Sam sighed deeply. Josh still hadn't spoken. He had often tried to imagine what had happened to Sam but none of his scenarios were anywhere near as awful as the truth. He also had failed to realise just how angry and betrayed Sam felt. Josh felt more unable to help Sam now than he had before. He felt Sam slide away from him and down onto the sofa. Josh moved so that Sam could raise his legs.
"You'll be better off in bed," Josh suggested but Sam shook his head. He wiped at his face and closed his eyes. Josh went into the bedroom and came back with a blanket which he placed over him. He crouched down and looked at his friend's face. He was fast asleep. Josh whispered a goodnight to Sam before standing up on creaking knees and making his way to the spare room.