Title: Bipartisanship
Author: ScarlettMithruiel
Rating: PG-13
Classification: R Sam/Ainsley
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to Aaron Sorkin and all related parties.
Summary: Sam tries to decide whether or not he should go after Ainsley, the presidency, and a shot at happiness.
Author's Note: Life hates me. Sorry if characterizations are off. It's like 1:00 a.m. Oh, and massive leaping of the storyline. But this is me. And I'm not a patient girl. Blah. Enjoy and please review!
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Sam Seaborn was usually a happy, carefree man. At the moment, he was a frustrated man who wanted to punch what would be his Chief-of-Staff if he got elected as POTUS, which he was seriously doubting with every passing second. Speeches were important. Campaigning was important. He realized these facts and he knew them. He practically had been living them when he came to see Bartlet speak at Nashua. At the moment, he was no longer paying attention. Ten hours he had been cooped in this room—ten hours of his life, wasted—and the last hour and a half were spent with bickering between Toby and Will, and then Will and Josh, and then Josh and Toby over the wording of the speech. Right now, Sam was observing the fine, sanded hardwood that was the door. Ah, sweet emancipation. How I long to reach you right now.
"Sam, are you listening?" Toby's voice distracted him out of his stupor. Was he fast enough? Could he sprint towards the door, leap out and dodge all sorts of people and obstacles, before arriving in a taxicab? No, he doubted it. Toby would be so livid that he would be tackled within milliseconds. Tenths of milliseconds even. He turned his head to face the other man.
"Honestly?"
"Yeah."
"No." The other man released a guttural grunt of annoyance and frustration. His mind relapsed into thoughts of his role in the Bartlet administration. He had been useful, hadn't he? He had gotten Mendoza elected onto the Supreme Court. Well, Toby and he had gotten him on the Supreme Court. That wasn't the easiest road to travel. His mind quickly digressed onto Robert Frost's poems, and then, to Robert Frost himself.
"Read it." Sam picked up the paper, scribbled over by all of them, with words written and crossed out and rewritten. Writing sure was a process. If only his third grade English teacher could see him now. There were no web charts, no outlines. Just plain old brainstorming and revising. He was sure she'd suffer an aneurysm of some kind.
"Ladies and gentlemen…" He paused, waiting for the commentary he knew was going to filter the air. His throat swelled a little, and he imagined the oxygen molecules hiding in a corner, waiting for Toby's restrained fury commentary.
"That's always a good start." Josh's sarcasm rang out and a few glares were issued at him. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "The primaries are in two days and we've been in this room for ten hours, with a half-assed attempt at a speech." More glares.
"Our Founding Fathers wanted to make sure that our freedoms in our beloved country were never restricted upon, but that we were also not allowed to gallivant around and commit crimes without chance for prosecution…" Josh sighed.
"Yes, Josh?" Toby's voice was thin and on edge.
"I didn't say anything."
"You made an audible sound. You want to say something."
"I think we should stop sounding we're lawyers addressing a jury. It sounds like an opening statement, Toby." Another few hours passed, the yellow legal pad died and another one was retrieved. They started writing it. Again.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Sam read, bloodshot eyes darting to and fro. He barely had enough energy to stifle a yawn. He tossed a comment to Josh and Josh left to fetch coffee for the group. "In the Constitution, it states 'we the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union' and cites examples for the leader of our esteemed country. However, some of our Presidents have been unable to measure up to this sacred checklist, of sorts. We have listened to the Republicans decry liberals and conservative Democrats as being weak-hearted. One of the stronger Republican nominees is Senator McAllister. Ladies and Gentlemen, the primaries are arriving and it is time to decide who shall go on the esteemed ballot. This is a democracy, ladies and gentlemen, and ultimately, it is your decision that counts."
Josh returned with large cups of coffee for all. He handed them out and they all sipped from it half-heartedly. At the moment, all of them wanted nothing more than to retreat back to their homes and enjoy some well-deserved sleep. "Do you think we should change democracy to democratic republic? Because we're not a complete democracy. We're a democrat republic."
"Josh, we go with democracy because that's what they've pretty much been taught since fourth grade."
"Now that the topic's been mentioned, wouldn't that be a great way to bring up public education systems in the country? I mean, they're delicing. They've been declining." Toby sighed again.
"Continue reading, Sam."
"Through the Bill of Rights, citizens are granted rights that no governmental body is allowed to detract from. In spite of this, there have been detractions in the past. As a Democratic candidate, I would make sure you keep your rights." Sam muttered as he read the rst of the speech. "Toby? I think it's fine now. It's well-written. Thirteen hours. Thirteen hours we've been here. Is there any possibility I could get home before the clock strikes three?"
The older man reached for the speech and gazed at it with a harsh look. His eyes scanned the speech, reading it once through. He stretched a bit. "Yeah, I guess." Files were loaded up and packed into briefcases or bags. Glances of exit greetings were exchanged by the men and they each headed out a different door.
Sam Seaborn packed his stuff into the passenger seat of the car before getting in the driver's seat. He quickly downed half the cup of coffee before settling himself in and buckling himself. He placed the key in the ignition and started the car. He drove through the endless circles of Washington DC with ease, although a wrong turn made him end up in Chevy Chase. He backtracked and arrived at his apartment somewhat quickly.
He took his items and headed up to his apartment. Dropping his things on the living room floor, fatigue rushed through him again and he strided toward the couch. Collapsing on it with a soft groan, he laid down in a more comfortable position. The cold of the night seemed to filter in, and invisibly drape over him. He felt it glide down over his eyes, the slimy feeling of the cold gripping him stronger than anything he had ever felt. With one last, half-open eye into the real consciousness of life, he succumbed to darkness.
