Title: Bipartisanship

Author: ScarlettMithruiel

Classification: R

Rating: T? M? If it is M, it's only for this one chapter, I think. We'll get back to T.

Disclaimer: West Wing does not belong to me. I wish it did. Um…hm…

Author's Note: Wow. This chapter started out all nice and innocent, and then kind of gestated into a monster. Well, I hope you like it. I apologize for any mischaracterizations. Und zuviel danken für Leslie. All bad/incorrect/inaccurate German grammar aside. Please review.


It was midnight and the entire town seemed to be suffocatingly silent. She stood in the bathroom, rinsing her face with cold water. She hadn't been able to go through it. She had asked to use the bathroom, and once she had finished, she had found him passed out on the bed. She took a deep breath and returned to the bathroom, trying to calm her nerves. It seemed as if a haze had settled over her mind. She couldn't recollect where she was. She grabbed her things, scant as they were, and headed out of the apartment building.

She returned to the bus to find a sole light on. She thought it symbolism equivalent to the last foundations of humanity. Or maybe that was the alcohol speaking. She entered the familiar structure to find a single shadow, a silhouette. Did he really exist? Her mind was interrogating, questioning, but her physical body seemed weak, tired. He lifted his head and she saw him now. Sam. His eyes were not as they usually were. There was an unknown emotion there. She could sense that. They seemed cold at the moment, detached. She stumbled over and embraced him, biting back tears. Her voice cracked gently. "I'm sorry."

His eyes seemed to warm over. His gaze was gentler, softer. His reply was a whisper in the silence of the intruding night. "Why don't you go rest?" She nodded, and tried to regain her composure, heading for their sleeping area. She collapsed onto the bed, and let the dregs of fatigue claim her. And for an undefinable amount of time, Sam did not move from his stationary position. He was pondering what Ainsley did that she could possibly have to be apologetic for.

She awoke to find him missing. She sat up and tried to ignore the dull, throbbing cadence of her headache. Bits and pieces of yesterday night filtered into her mind. She loved Sam. There was no doubt in her mind. She hoped the feeling was still reciprocated. Rushing, she ran through her morning routine before rushing out to find him. He was outside, staring at either the scenery or a fixed point in the sky. She approached him cautiously. "Sam," the name was still tentative on her lips. He leaned down and kissed her fiercely. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling, although it passed quickly. Her eyes stayed shut, and she reluctantly forced them open. She had missed that feeling…the feeling of excitement when he kissed her. "Have you eaten yet?" She shook her head. How could he be so detached? Had he somehow known what had almost taken place? "You should eat."

"I'm not hungry," she quickly replied.

"You? Not hungry? Are you sick?" His voice adopted a concerned tone.

"No." Her voice became firm. She didn't know what had caused it to steel over, but she hoped that the feeling remained with her. "Sam…why'd you postpone the wedding?"

"I told you already," he said, his eyes losing their cold glare. "I don't want you to get married against your father's wishes."

"Sam…tell me the real reason." He looked surprised.

"What?"

"I've done a lot of things in my life against my father's wishes, all right? I've moved to Washington, I've worked in a Democratic White House, I had sex…I can't even begin to list all the things I did that he didn't want me to do. If I listened to my father for everything, Sam…it'd just be…" She shook her head, and took a deep breath. "Now tell me the real reason. I won't get angry. Just don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Sam, my father will get over it if we get married. And you knew that. You had to have known that. Why didn't you want to get married?" His eyes quickly transformed back to their detached glare. "Are you nervous? Was the courtship too short for you? Do you not love me anymore? What?"

He grasped her waist and in a rough gesture, pulled her to him and crashed his mouth down on top of hers. His tongue forced its way into her mouth. It was coarse, rough, and unlike him. He pulled away. "You want to make your accusations? Go ahead." She stood there, dazed for a second. Her head began to thud louder in the background. "I was telling the damn truth."

"Were you?" she replied, sharply. He nodded. "Let's get married."

"Ainsley," he shook his head. She recoiled.

"What? This can't possibly be because of my father, can it?" She began to walk away. He followed her and grasped her wrist.

"Fine. Let's get married."

She walked up to him and he released her wrist. "Don't do this just to win the damn argument. Are you doing this because you want to? Or is it for your ego?"

"I'm doing it because I want to," he replied, his tone equally harsh. Her anger was practically emanating and his indignance was visible. He reached in his pocket, and retrieved the ring. He slid it back onto her finger. She shuddered as the cold metal made contact with her skin. He kissed her roughly, picking her up and carrying her onto the bus.

This wasn't what she was accustomed to. This wasn't loving Sam being gentle and kind. This was Neanderthalian Sam. This was a facet of him she had never seen, not to mention experienced. He reached for her clothes and tugged them off with a necessity that she seemed to reciprocate. They fell against the bed, but they never paused. Never relented. Thunder unexpected pealed in the sky above them.

Ainsley dug her nails into his back as he collided against her, and she felt bits and pieces of her anger dissolve with each connection. He kissed her roughly again, his lips traveling down her neck. He bit her lightly and she reveled in the contrasting feelings. The sensations heightened for a split second, before she was flung off the precipice. She shuddered softly and kissed him, softer this time. Black began to mesh with the vivid colors of reality, and she vaguely recalled the feel of fibers encompassing her as he pulled the comforter over her.


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