Chapter Twelve
The sun, when it was rising, cast a glow in Sam's office that never failed to amaze him. Sometimes the sunrise, an empty Bullpen and a cup of fresh coffee were all it took to make Sam sit back at his desk and feel like he was the luckiest man alive. Sam hadn't felt very lucky for quite a while though and this morning the sun's low rays and the silence failed to have their usual effect.
Sam sighed and put his feet up on the edge of his desk. He thought about his current problems and tried to make himself feel better. Work was a problem; his writing was flat and his enthusiasm gone. His headaches were a problem but he had a new drug to try and so told himself that it would be the one, the magic drug that would make Cluster Attacks a thing of the past. He refused to think about the crippling fear that he lived with. Josh was a problem. Sam smiled despite his melancholy and tried to think of a time when Josh hadn't been a problem. A part of him knew it was hopeless, they were hopeless. But, a part of him wanted to believe that this time it would be different. They would both be able to find time for their careers and each other and Josh wouldn't have to choose because he wouldn't force him to. But then, Sam thought as he swung his legs off the table, a part of him wanted Josh to have to choose or at least to be sure of what the answer would be if he did.
He walked over to the window and watched as the red of the sunrise turned to the golden glow of early morning. Staffers had started to arrive, a phone was ringing and suddenly the peace and quiet was shattered. Sam drained his cup, turned to put it on his desk and jumped when he found CJ sitting on the edge of it.
"Hey there, Samshine." CJ's long legs were swinging and she was worrying a pencil in her hands. "I was sitting in my office thinking about you and, you know, me and what happened the other day and I was wondering if it was time for a little Sam chat, just to test the waters. Don't be fooled by my relaxed demeanour I'm ready to flee if the waters are choppy."
Sam shrugged and CJ winced inwardly at the gesture. She jumped off the desk and walked over to him. "The waters are indifferent?" she asked incredulously.
"I'm fine, we're fine. I haven't even thought about it. I know what you were trying to do and I know you were acting as Press Secretary and thinking of the Administration and I totally understand."
"I was, but what I didn't do was this…" she reached out for Sam's hand and kissed him on the cheek. "That was me as me, not me as the Press Secretary," she added helpfully.
Sam smiled and kept hold of CJ's hand. "Thank you." He squeezed it and let go. "Although, I think you should know that I've never had the slightest problem making a distinction between you as you and you as Press Secretary."
"How so?"
"Well, you don't scare the crap out of me when you're you as you."
"I scare you when I'm Press Secretary?"
"You scare me when I've done something wrong," Sam confessed.
"I might start wearing a scarf, they can be softening," CJ said.
"See, if you were wearing a scarf, I'd just think you were picturing ways to strangle me with it."
"Okay, well I'll try a few variations. It might just be the type of scarf."
Sam grinned and stood up. "Get back to work, scary woman!"
CJ stood and straightened her skirt. "And apparently my work is scaring people." She smiled at Sam and brushed her hand down his arm as she passed him. Sam took in the look on her face and gentleness of the action and allowed himself a few moments to wallow in the comfort she had provided before Toby's gruff voice from the room next door brought him back to the reality of a speech that was three days behind schedule.
"Two days, three hours and forty minutes," Josh called to the kitchen from Sam's sofa.
"What?" Sam called back before walking into the living room and joining Josh.
"It's been two days, three hours and forty minutes since your last headache."
Sam was going to reply sarcastically but then saw Josh's notebook and realised how thoughtful it was of Josh to keep such detailed records of his attacks. "That's so sweet!"
"Sweet! You might want to rethink that. I am not sweet, methodical, yes, scientific, certainly but sweet-"
Sam stopped Josh mid rant. "Sorry, what I meant was, gee, Josh, that's so methodical and scientific of you."
"Much better, if it gets around DC that I can be sweet I'd be finished." He turned back to his notebook and moved along the sofa so Sam could join him.
"I ordered a pizza," Sam announced as he put his feet up on the coffee table.
"Great," Josh answered but he was once more absorbed in his task of trying to find a pattern to Sam's attacks. Josh had stayed the first night after Sam had been in hospital and had only been home once since. He had returned to Sam's with enough clothes to see him through the week. Sam didn't mind, he was glad to have someone with him and although neither man spoke about it, Sam's suicide attempt had petrified them both. Sam shuffled further down the sofa and crossed his arms over his stomach. He felt the sofa dip.
"This is it, Sam, this is the miracle we've been waiting for."
Sam opened his eyes and turned to see Josh holding the drug that Doctor Hollis hoped would finally put an end to Sam's pain.
"Amazing really, just looks like a pen or something, but inside this tube lays a magical cure. It's like something from a Bond film." Josh started to unscrew the top.
"Hey!" Sam dived towards him and grabbed at the injection pen. "That's all he's given me, 007, and if you break it we're fucked!"
"You know what? These cluster attacks have really dragged your language into the gutter."
Sam placed the drugs back on the side table. He closed his eyes again and tried to get comfortable but the sound of Josh turning pages back and forth made him sit up and turn to face him. "So, according to your journal, when am I due my next one?"
Josh closed the book and scooted round. "You've never gone longer than three days without one and the last time you had a gap of four days it was followed by a series of attacks that got progressively worse so…"
"Tomorrow." Sam stated flatly. It wasn't anything he didn't already know. He'd had enough attacks now to be able to work out the pattern and if the last few weeks were anything to go by, tomorrow would bring a new cluster. He slipped down the sofa and covered his face with his hands. "Fuck!"
"Yeah." Josh moved towards Sam and gently removed one of his hands. "Remember the other night when you went to Geeksville and watched that space documentary and I sat here and held your hand and you let me?" Sam nodded slowly. "Well, I was thinking that was nice and I can't do much for you at the moment but that was nice and I was thinking we could do that again cos it made me feel better and…"
"It made me feel better too," Sam finished for him and smiled as Josh's hold on his hand tightened. Josh pulled Sam closer towards him until he was lying against his chest, the top of his head nestling neatly under Josh's chin. When the pizza arrived neither man wanted to move from the comforting position and it was with great reluctance that Sam finally got off Josh and called after the disgruntled man who was heading back to his bike.
"Words, Sam! Little things on their own but collated and ordered they can be really quite something and yet you seem to have lost the power to even write them down, let alone manipulate them!"
Sam was about to protest when Toby snatched his pad out of his hands and stormed back to his office. Sam stood up quickly and followed him.
"What's this?" Toby asked, pointing at a doodle on Sam's pad.
"It's a doodle, actually it's a series of interconnecting boxes if you want to be precise and I bet if you looked that up in a doodle dictionary it would mean something about having an oppressive boss."
"And this?" Toby's finger moved down the page.
"That, believe it or not, is the pattern on the curtains in my Grandmother's study."
"I see, and that is related to a speech about school prayer how exactly?"
"Well, my Grandmother was a very religious woman, so…"
Toby mumbled something and sat down at his desk. "We have twenty-four hours before The President is going to be standing in front of a lot of people and looking at a teleprompter and seeing nothing but a doodle of interlocking boxes and your grandmother's curtain pattern!"
"And I can see that wouldn't be good." Sam sat heavily on the sofa and looked across at Toby. "I've tried, Toby, but I can't even get past 'good evening'."
"It's my fault. I shouldn't have gone to Boston. I knew it would be a waste of time and it's shot my schedule to hell. I tell you what, you talk, I'll write." Toby turned the page on Sam's pad and waited for him to start listing the points they had agreed they wanted to make in the speech. He wouldn't admit it but he was angry with himself for leaving Sam alone while he went and talked to a Senator whose support, he knew, was unlikely at best. He scribbled frantically to keep up with Sam's ideas. In the time he had been away Sam had written enough notes and outlines to write five speeches but just hadn't been able to order any of it into an actual speech. Toby had told Leo that Sam was fine and now realised that leaving him alone when he knew he was struggling wasn't fair to him. Toby forced himself to focus on what he was writing but stopped when he realised Sam was no longer dictating but talking to him.
"…and I'm grateful but I don't want you to carry me and if you think I'm not doing my job then I-"
"I'm not listening to this. We have a speech to write and we have less than twenty-four hours in which to write it. Now, you can sit there feeling sorry for yourself, or you can carry on telling me what needs to go in it?"
"The first one, no, wait, the second one."
"Good, so talk!"
Sam looked down at his notes, found his place and continued to read. In the window behind him Josh caught Toby's eye and nodded before turning away and heading back to his own office.
Five hours later the speech was done. Toby was sitting with his feet on his desk listening to the printer in the Bullpen churning out the final draft. Sam was lying on the sofa, glasses in his hand but slowly slipping out of his fingers.
"It's done?" Josh asked as he entered Toby's office, realising from the men's demeanours that it was.
"Of course it's done, we're Batman and Robin," Sam said and because Sam had his eyes closed and Josh had his back to him, Toby smiled.
"Anyway, you were wrong, Doctor Kildare!" Sam said to Josh as he hoisted himself up the sofa.
"What about?"
"Your prognosis, it's now been three days and fifty-four minutes and I haven't had an attack."
"Well then!" Josh replied.
"Well then!" Sam sat up and swung his legs off the sofa. "Methodical, scientific Josh is proved wrong and all he can say is well then?"
Josh shrugged. "The endeavour of scientific enquiry is a thankless task."
Toby rustled his newspaper noisily and peered over it. "Would you like to go and play in the Bullpen or something so the adults can read in peace?" He watched as Sam and Josh rose from the sofa as one and to his surprise took him at his word and went outside to annoy Ginger. He knew that Sam's upbeat mood was for Josh's benefit. He had seen how tense Sam was even when he was lying on the sofa supposedly asleep. It may well have been three days since his last attack but Toby knew that just made waiting for the next one even worse.
Sam rubbed at his temple and tried to forget the dull thumping in his head of a usual meeting induced headache that had been largely caused by Senator Morrison and Paul Grey. It had been five days since the last attack and that was the longest Sam had gone without one. He glanced up and saw Toby talking to Josh in the corridor outside. Josh caught his eye and Sam excused himself and left the room. He followed Josh and Toby as they walked further down the corridor and out of view of Morrison and Grey.
"What's going on?" Sam asked.
"I had a call from Senator Howell. He reckons-"
"Senator Howell the Republican," Sam interrupted.
"Yeah," Josh replied eager to tell his story.
"He doesn't like us very much," Sam continued. "He said you were to politics what Stan Laurel was to-"
"Yeah, Sam, that Senator Howell!" Josh cut in and Sam knew better than to finish the quote. "He says that Adler is going to go against the health care bill tomorrow and has four proxy votes."
"Four would kill it! Does he have four?" Sam knew how hard Josh had worked on the bill and for Adler to sabotage it now would be a blow to him and the party.
Toby leant away from the wall and glanced back down the corridor. "What are Morrison and Grey talking to you about?" he asked.
"Funding from the MLB for the Chronic Care package."
"Well then, he has two."
Josh crossed his arms and stared at his feet. "And Burrell and Cairns are meeting me tomorrow, what are the odds on them offering an amendment?"
"There's your four," Toby agreed.
"So what, Howell was just telling you this out of courtesy?"
"He wants this bill to pass as much as we do, he's always supported it. He told me that Adler's going to be at the dinner tonight and he told me what he wants. He thinks I can talk him round."
"I think you can talk him round," Toby agreed.
"I think I have to pretend like this never happened, go back into that room and listen to Morrison and Grey and pretend like I care," Sam sighed.
"Yeah," Josh nodded.
"I didn't care before I knew I didn't have to care and now I have to pretend that I care even though I don't care and know that I don't need to care."
"Yeah," Josh repeated.
"And you wonder why you get headaches," Toby said before walking away to his office.
Josh walked silently beside Sam. He looked up the corridor then spun round and checked the other direction before nudging Sam sideways, pulling open a cupboard door and jostling Sam into it.
Sam had never seen this cupboard before. He must have walked past it a thousand times and yet he had never seen it. It was dark and he couldn't tell what it stored. He wondered if he would find Ainsley in it looking for the toilet. He decided to tell Ron Butterfield about it. It might be dangerous having an area of the West Wing that nobody had really noticed but seemed big enough to house two men comfortably.
Those were the thoughts that went through Sam's mind as Josh kissed him senseless in the confined, dark space. He felt Josh's hands on his head, holding him in place but there was no need as he had no desire to move. Finally Josh moved away. "That'll give you something to think about while you're pretending not to care," he whispered and then Sam was suddenly bathed in light as the door opened and then swamped in darkness once more as it closed.
Sam didn't think that Josh meant it was Morrison and Grey that he was pretending not to care about and he had to admit that perhaps the fact that he was finding it difficult to take a breath meant that Josh had a point. Sam raised his arm to lean against the wall and unwittingly discovered the contents of the cupboard. A cacophony of bangs and crashes filled the tiny space as a rack of brooms and mops fell to the floor. He kicked away the few that had landed at his feet, brushed at the front of his shirt and taking a deep breath, stepped back into the corridor. For once, miraculously, it was empty.
Sam walked back into his office and looked down at Morrison and Grey who were waiting impatiently for him. "There's a…I've worked here four years and I never knew…have you ever walked by something for four years and not…" Sam turned away from them and walked back to his desk, sitting heavily in his chair he took another deep breath, put his glasses on and looked across at their bewildered faces. "Okay, funding from the MLB for the chronic care package- give me what you've got."