Chapter Twenty-Three

Sam didn't answer Toby straight away. He filled his glass and returned to his seat. He stared at the glass for a few moments and then finally raised his head. "I used to feel bad about it, like I was lying to you, but you never asked me, you just assumed…I used to feel guilty about it. When we found out about the MS, it stopped being an issue. Turned out that my little secret was nothing compared to other people's." Sam looked like he was going to carry on but he took a long swig of bourbon instead.

There was silence and then Toby moved to sit next to Sam. "How's your hand?" he asked.

Sam was taken by surprise at the question. His initial reaction was to shrug off Toby's concern but then he remembered Laurie's words about pushing everyone away. Slowly, Sam put his hand on the coffee table in front of him. Toby and Josh looked at it as if they had never seen a hand before, and waited for him to speak.

"I saw a doctor before I left DC. He said the bones had healed really well but that the joints were still stiff, something to do with the capsule and tissue scaring the joint." Sam flexed his hand as he spoke and Toby and Josh continued to stare at it. "He said I should have a full range of motion back within a year."

"A year!" Josh exclaimed, although it was almost whispered.

"Maybe less, he said the pain should be gone by then."

Josh glanced at Toby who was still staring at Sam's hand, his face set with anger.

"This one," Sam pointed at his middle finger, "if you look at it from the side, you can see how the tip is bent downwards, and this one," again Sam pointed, "this one is crooked now." Sam's matter-of-fact tone didn't fool his friends. They sat patiently, hoping Sam would continue. After a moment's silence he spoke again. "It's just an ache mostly but sometimes..." his voice trailed off and he removed his hand from his friends' view, "sometimes the pain is like…it reminds me…it's the same pain as when it happened, when they broke it. The doctor said that was normal, that the pain can remind you of the trauma. It's weird."

Weird, Toby thought, was not the word he would use to describe what had happened and was still happening, to Sam. "Have the hospital fixed you up with someone you can talk to?"

"Yeah, I was seeing someone. I'll sort out some more sessions when I get back." Sam stood and fetched the bottle and topped up his glass. He offered it to Toby and Josh but both declined.

Toby threw back the last mouthful of his and placed the empty glass on the table. "Whilst we're on the subject of you getting back to DC, have you thought anymore about returning to work?"

Sam couldn't help the small breath of laughter that escaped. "Have I thought about if I want to go back to the White House where I was last seen throwing teacups around the Oval Office?" Sam answered.

Josh leaned forward. "Come on, Sam, you're making way too much of it. It was only one teacup." Sam's half-smile encouraged him to continue. "Just, do what you did last time- don't make any promises or plans, just come back and see how you feel, take it from there."

Sam nodded slowly, his situation had changed little from the first time he had gone back to work: no desire to be there but afraid of being anywhere else.

Sam spent his last couple of days with Laurie enjoying some of the sites of Boston. The agents had returned to Washington apart from Jake who remained with Sam and drove back to DC with him. Sam's goodbye to Laurie was brief. He told her not to come out to see him off but even as he shut the door behind him he felt a sudden coldness at the loss of her presence. On the other side of the door she felt the same and she opened it to find Sam reaching up to ring the bell. A hug, a kiss, another hug and then Sam was getting into the car. Laurie walked down the stoop and watched until it disappeared from view.

Sam's return to work was much like his previous return. People tiptoed ever so gracefully around any subject that may cause him to remember what had happened. He found it slightly comical that they thought he only remembered being abducted, beaten and tortured if they happened to mention it. He knew he was still being kept away from the President and the Oval Office and was worried that he felt relieved by it.

Toby's face became a constant portrait within the frame of the window dividing their offices. Josh would find himself 'just passing through' the Communications Bullpen a number of times a day. CJ could often be found sitting in Sam's office on her way to or from a briefing. Sam took it all in good grace and tried not to let the feeling of suffocation, which their scrutiny was causing him, show.

He knew his writing was poor but Toby didn't correct it or send anything back once it was done. He used Sam's ideas as a basis or filed it in the back of his cabinet. Sam's work rate was slow and although his hand was much improved, he couldn't type with the speed and dexterity he could before.

Sam knew he was little use to Toby but he didn't care. They had kept going on at him to come back to work and he had come back. If they weren't happy with what he was producing then they would just have to go on at him to leave. He spent most of his time at his desk, only leaving when absolutely necessary.

Sam sighed, removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes as he watched Ginger walk through the Bullpen and towards his office. He knew what she was going to ask and so answered first to save her the trouble. "I'll just have one of those salad things, thanks."

"Why don't you come to the Mess with me? You might see something else you like."

Sam pulled a face and shook his head. "I'm swamped here as it is without stopping to…" Sam stopped when he saw Ginger's folded arms and raised eyebrows. "Don't try and get me out of my office. I like it here, there's this weird guy next door but apart from that I'm quite happy."

"People are going to stare, Sam, it's natural, but if you hide away in here they're only going to stare more." A shrug and an apologetic smile were her only reply. "Okay, but you're not getting a dessert," Ginger said as she turned away.

And so it went on. Sam withdrew more each day and his friends tried but failed to stop it. He went to work, he came home. His mother visited and told him that keeping everything inside was making him ill. His father visited him and told him being back at the White House was making him ill. Josh called on Sam one night and continued the theme.

"You look like shit," he said as Sam reluctantly held the door open and watched him walk into his apartment.

"Paging Doctor Lyman, you're needed in the OR."

"Well, you do! You're pale and you've got this baggy, dark thing going on under your eyes." Josh carried on into the kitchen and dumped some beers on the table.

Sam stood with his hands on his hips and watched Josh search for clean glasses. "You should get your mom back here to pick up the place it's like someone's come in and trashed it." He pulled some dirty plates from the sink and started to run some water into the bowl. He kept his voice light but the state of Sam's normally immaculate place had shocked him. He walked into the living room and took in the papers spread across the table, unopened mail lying amongst it and dirty cups and plates littering the floor. Peeking into the bedroom he saw a similar scene but with discarded clothing scattered around the floor instead of cups and plates. So absorbed was he in his discovery of the disorder that he had forgotten its cause who still stood by the kitchen door his arms now wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Sam?" Josh stood in the bedroom doorway and looked across at Sam who was staring at the floor. "Sam?"

"Don't, Josh, okay, just don't."

"You're just, existing, aren't you? I mean you're coming to work and going through the motions but really you're just on auto-pilot or something." Sam had made it clear that he didn't want people coming round and everyone had backed off thinking that he needed his space but now Josh realised just what a mistake that had been. "I mean, God, look at this place!" He walked into the bedroom and picked up a shirt from the floor. "What do you do, just come in, throw your clothes on the floor, eat, go to bed, then do it all again the next day?"

Sam shrugged, it was pointless answering, it was pretty obvious that was exactly what he was doing.

Josh pushed. He didn't know what else to do. "How the hell are we supposed to know what's going on if you keep shutting everyone out? How can we help you, how the fuck can we help you if you're not even trying to get yourself together?"

"Trying!" Sam pushed himself away from the doorjamb his lethargy vanished and replaced by rage. "Trying! I'm trying to get out of bed every morning when all I want to do is stay there. I'm trying to find something to eat that I don't throw straight back up because I can still taste the crap they fed me. I'm trying to sit at my desk and write when all I can see are fists and blood and puke and cigarette stubs and pieces of fucking paper with fucking drugs and guns and-"

"Well, I'll tell you something- you're not trying hard enough!" Josh just had time for the thought that he had pushed too far to enter his head before he felt Sam's hands on his shoulders and was reeled back towards the wall. He slipped down it and started to right himself when Sam grabbed him.

"You arrogant son of a bitch," Sam seethed and shoved him again. "You don't know-"

Josh wasn't sure what it was he didn't know because Sam had decided that a punch would be more effective than finishing his sentence. Again, Josh slammed into the wall. Before he had recovered he could see Sam lunging at him he surged forward and tried to block the blow but, already wheeling from the first, he was unable to defend himself. As he landed on the floor for the second time, rage took hold of him and he sprung up and towards Sam, his fist flying out and landing firmly on Sam's jaw. Sam staggered backwards but didn't fall.

Even amidst the chaos of the fight, Josh acknowledged that venting his anger was probably doing Sam a lot of good but he also knew that allowing Sam to beat him to a pulp for the sake of his mental health did not appeal to him very much. He ducked another blow but then Sam flew at him again and even though he was tiring, the force and accuracy of his punches left Josh no option but to counter them. He grabbed Sam and they struggled before Sam lost his balance and Josh fell with him. Josh heard the plates and cups smash under them as they rolled along the floor. The hard leg of the coffee table bought an end to their struggle and Josh found himself sitting on top of Sam, pinning his arms to the floor. Somehow, Sam rolled away from Josh far enough to be able to bring an elbow up and into his stomach. Josh fell backwards, his head narrowly missing the edge of the table. A string of breathless curses flew at Josh shortly followed by Sam. Both men were tiring and their actions becoming clumsy. They rolled again, Josh ending up once more on top. Josh took hold of Sam's sweater and pulled him upwards.

The lamp had been knocked over, but at this angle Josh could see Sam's face illuminated by the light from the kitchen and his anger was palpable. "You supercilious fuck!" Sam yelled in Josh's face. Silence followed. Josh had been kneeling in front of Sam, holding him up, their faces nearly touching, but suddenly he slumped down his head fell forward onto his chest.

Sam heard the gasp and for a moment thought that Josh was crying. He could feel the tremors that run through Josh in his hands that still held onto Sam's sweater and rested against his chest. Sam studied the top of Josh's head and watched as it shook from side to side. It was only when Josh loosened his hold on Sam slightly and lifted his face that he realised that Josh was laughing. He was so surprised that the anger that had been raging through him disappeared at once. He stared back at Josh who was taking a breath and trying to speak. "Supercil…supercilious fuck…oh man," Josh dissolved into hysterics again.

Sam's face became a slideshow of expressions from anger, surprise to bemusement. Finally, despite his best efforts, bemusement gave way to amusement as he continued to stare at Josh.

"Supercillious- who the fuck says supercilious…" Josh dissolved once more, his hands still clutched Sam's sweater. "Supercilious fuck…oh man that's good."

Finally, Sam allowed the laughter that was bubbling inside him to escape. Blood trickled down his chin from his nose but he was as oblivious to it as Josh was to the blood that dribbled down his own chin. The sight of Josh helpless with laughter coupled with the absurdity of finding himself sprawled on the floor after fighting his friend, caused Sam to laugh with the same helpless gasps of breath as Josh.

"I don't think…I don't…" Josh struggled to regain some sort of composure, "I don't think I've ever had a supercilious fuck. There was this…girl…once…though who…" it was all he managed to say before they both collapsed again, Josh's body falling forwards and his head coming to rest on Sam's shoulder.

It took a while before they were composed enough to move to the bathroom and see to their cuts and bruises. Sam perched on the edge of the bath while Josh rung a couple of cloths out. He handed one to Sam and then sank down against the wall and dabbed at his still bleeding lip. He looked around the bathroom and this time decided it would be wise not to comment on the state it was in. He glanced at Sam who was studying the cloth before placing it back gingerly onto his nose. Josh noticed Sam was holding it awkwardly and as a sudden flash of Sam's fist flying towards him entered his head he moved towards Sam. "Shit, is your hand okay?"

Sam placed his left hand over the cloth and held up his right hand in front of him. "I don't think so. It hurts, but then I did land you some pretty serious blows."

"The coffee table landed me some blows. You were just a minor inconvenience as I tried to avoid smashing into the cups and glasses that fell off it."

Sam raised his eyebrows and shook his head at Josh before turning away again and mumbling 'coffee table' with a disbelieving air.

Sam explained that he was below par because he was still recovering. Josh explained that he had gone easy on Sam because he knew it was misdirected anger. The water in the sink had gone cold by the time Josh picked up the discarded cloths, threw them away and suggested a take out to go with the beers that waited for them in the kitchen.

The television sent flickers of multicoloured light around the living room where Josh and Sam sat sprawled on the sofa. Josh had said nothing as he watched Sam eat the takeout they had ordered. Sam's appetite had been improving but he still couldn't finish a meal. He would start eagerly enough but halfway through every meal his appetite would suddenly disappear. It was memories of eating the food with his fingers that would always come flooding back during a meal and put him in danger of losing what he had already eaten.

Josh was pretty sure that if Sam wasn't careful he was going to develop an eating disorder of some kind. But, he didn't say anything. He had one more thing he wanted to discuss tonight and Sam's eating habits wasn't it.

"You got the time?" Josh asked and glanced at the watch Sam revealed as he pulled his sleeve up.

"It's just gone twenty pa-"

"You haven't looked have you?" Josh interrupted and continued at Sam's confused shrug. "The bag of your belongings the police gave to you, you haven't looked at it."

"They're just things that I…they're not important, I've replaced most of them. They're just coins and stuff," Sam replied defensively.

"It's not just stuff, it's the stuff you had on you when you were kidnapped, your wallet, watch, pen, keys and photos special enough to carry around with you. Stuff that was important to you then and still is now."

"I can't believe you, I can't believe that you would come into my home and rake through my stuff like some…some…"

"Oh yeah like you've never raked through my stuff you supercilious fuck!" Josh countered and was relieved to see his words have the desired effect of halting Sam's stumbling tirade. "Look in the bag, Sam," he finished quietly.

Sam switched on the light in the only tidy room in his apartment. Since Judy had left, the spare room had remained untouched by Sam. He walked towards where Judy's equipment had been and knelt on the floor. Reaching between the wall and the chest of drawers, his hand found the plastic bag. He tipped the contents onto the floor and raked his hand over them. He knew without looking too closely that the items had been cleaned. His pen that his father had given him when he graduated always leaked but the ink stains were gone, his dull leather wallet was now shining but was outdone by the sheen on the brass H that hung from his key ring. He flipped a few of the coins over and remembered sitting by the Potomac eating the bagel he had bought the morning of the day he had been taken.

He realised that Josh must had done this. It wasn't the act that had surprised him but the fact that Josh had managed to wait so patiently for Sam to discover the gesture. He stood up and returned to the living room.

"Where's my watch?"

Josh turned to Sam, smiled and nodded. He walked over to his backpack and pulled out a box. He walked back to his chair forcing Sam to join him. Sam sat down next to him and picked up the box. He knew his watch was inside and that it too would have been cleaned and repaired. He traced his finger over the new glass before removing it from the box and reading the inscription that he had read so many times before. Finally he looked up at Josh who was studiously watching an episode of Kung Fu.

"Thank you," was all he said but the look of gratitude was clear for Josh to read.

They held the stare until Josh broke the silence. "Your mom gutted this place while you were gone, you know. You should be ashamed of yourself letting it get in this state."

Sam looked around the room and nodded. "It's a shithole. I am ashamed."

Josh shook his head and took a swig of beer. "I'm ashamed and I don't even live here."

Three hours later Josh and Sam had come up with a plan. The plan had begun quite sensibly with notions of hiring a domestic service to come and clean his place. But, as they drank their way through the rest of the beer they ended up deciding that Toby should start his own cleaning service. Team Toby's Tidies would cater for busy executives. The staff would wear overalls with a Giant T emblazoned on the front.

Josh finally slumped against the arm of the chair and fell asleep after providing an enthusiastic explanation on why Team Toby's Tidies cleaning staff would be wearing green and not blue as Sam had suggested. Sam managed to stumble over to the cupboard and find a blanket and cover Josh before crawling onto his bed. Before he turned the light out, he removed the watch, stared at it for a while and placed it carefully on the bedside cabinet. The light from the lamp was replaced by a sliver of light from a streetlight outside and Sam stared at the second hand of the watch until his eyes slowly closed and he slept.