Chapter Seven

Ginger had spent five minutes searching though the files on Toby's desk before she found the ones she was looking for. She spent a further five minutes yet again trying to contact Sam's parents. She put the files into Toby's laptop case and collected a piece of pie from the Mess. In the bottom of Toby's cupboard there was a gym bag that he never used but which held a wash bag and clean sweatshirt. She picked that up too and placed the pie carefully inside it.

While she did all this, two men were working equally industriously in Sam's office. His laptop had already been removed and the men were now sifting through the contents of his desk in the hope that they would find something, anything, which might give this apparently motiveless attack a motive.

Ginger avoided looking into Sam's office. Instead, she concentrated on righting Toby's. The coffee table was still pushed against his desk from when the paramedics had made room to work on Sam. Two pillows from the sofa lay on the floor beside CJ's jacket and Ginger picked it up and tried to straighten the creases before giving it up as a hopeless task. The glass of water that she brought to Sam lay on the floor and the carpet was still slightly damp around it. Ginger picked it up and shook her head at the realisation that she couldn't remember dropping it.

Carol wasn't at her desk when Ginger went to return CJ's jacket so she walked to the door and knocked lightly. CJ was sitting on her sofa, a cup of water in one hand and a pill in the other. She downed the pill and rubbed at her temple before noticing Ginger.

"I found this in Toby's office. It's a bit creased I'm afraid."

CJ smiled up at her but the smile faded as a memory of rolling the jacket and placing it under Sam's head came to her. "Just put it on the chair. Thanks, Ginger. Are you going to the hospital?"

"Yes, Toby wants some work sent over and I thought I'd take him a change of clothes as well."

CJ nodded. Ginger wanted to tell her to lie down before she fell down but she knew from experience that sort of advice would be ignored. "Is there anything you think I should take from Sam's office?"

"His glasses. He'll want them when he's feeling better."

"Okay." Ginger looked at CJ who was looking for her own glasses amongst a pile of papers on her desk. "You should lie down before you fall down."

CJ stopped rummaging and looked up at Ginger. Her face was drawn but her smile was genuine.

"Why?"

Toby sighed and moved his chair closer to the bed. Sam had said very little since the breathing tube had been removed apart from asking Toby if he could go home. "You can't go home because you're ill, Sam. You need to stay here and let the doctors and nurses help you to get better. Try some more water," Toby said, reaching for the cup but Sam shook his head.

"Want…to…go home."

"I know you do, but you can't, and neither can I because I've got myself embroiled in this hand-holding thing which is remarkable considering I'm not the most tactile of people but here I am holding your hand, not letting go."

Sam turned to Toby. "Here you are…thank you."

"Yes!" Ginger's cry filled the Communications Bullpen and Donna heard it from her desk. "I've found them, I've found Sam's parents," Ginger said excitedly as she reached Donna's desk. "His dad was at some golf tournament in California and his mom was staying with a family friend in Seattle. They're both heading straight here."

"What's going on?" Josh called out from his room.

"Ginger's found Sam's parents. They're on their way."

"Where was his dad?"

"Some golf tournament in-"

"I'm taking credit. I told Ginger to try the golf courses." Josh sat up straighter and tapped his pencil against the desk. "I'm the man to ask when you're looking for other men because I'm a man's man and I know the places to look."

"You're telling me you know where to look for men?"

"What, wait, that's not..."

"Oh, Josh, it's just too easy." Donna crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. "So, do you want to take credit for Ginger finding Sam's mom as well?"

Josh pretended to shudder. "Believe me, you wouldn't want to take credit for that."

Donna raised her eyebrows but Josh just shrugged. "You'll see," he said cryptically and returned to the files on his desk.

Doctor Keel was pleased. He was pleased Sam hadn't died last night; he was pleased Sam was breathing without support; and he was pleased that Sam's temperature, although high, wasn't getting any higher. Sam hadn't offered much in the way of lucid comments but he had responded to a few questions and certainly seemed to be aware of Toby's presence.

"I'm pleased," he told Toby as he looked at Sam's chart. "I know Dr Nashton will be too. Considering the night he's had, I think Sam's doing remarkably well. I'm going to increase his pain meds which might make him a little more confused. The main thing is that the convulsions have stopped, that was my primary concern."

"For good, do you think?"

"I don't know of any cases of convulsions returning this length of time after the initial attacks. Having said that, there aren't that many cases of people surviving after being unstable for the period Sam was. We're not out of the woods but I feel a lot happier about Sam's chances than I did twelve hours ago."

"Well yes, twelve hours ago you thought he would be dead by now."

A small movement from the bed made both men look at Sam. He looked up at the doctor who was standing where Toby had been sitting all night. His head turned to the other side of the bed and he seemed to relax slightly on seeing Toby there. "What's time?"

Toby knew to the minute what the time was as he had been watching the clock for the past six hours. "It's half past nine." Sam looked confused at his answer so he added, "In the morning."

Sam pulled his hand out of Toby's grasp and started to pull the oxygen mask away from his face.

"Whoa, don't do that." Toby reached forward and placed it back over Sam's mouth.

"How do you feel, Sam?" Keel readjusted the tubes running from the mask as he spoke.

Sam looked at him briefly and then turned back to Toby. "Want to go home."

Toby had spent the whole night watching Sam breathe and fearing every breath would be his last, he had watched him nearly lose that fight and had remained strong, but listening to Sam asking to go home again and again was something that he was finding increasingly hard. He was relieved when Dr Keel answered for him.

"You can't go home, Sam, you're very poorly and you need to stay here until you're better. I need you to tell me if you're in any pain."

Toby was used to Sam being polite, even to people who were driving him insane, so when Sam told Keel to, 'fuck off' it surprised him more than the Doctor. The fact that Sam started to cry soon afterwards surprised him even more.

"Come on," Toby muttered as he reached for a paper towel from the bedside table. "Don't get upset, it's okay."

"I don't…don't know...why…why can't go home."

Toby told him to shush. He didn't have any more words of comfort. You can't go home because some maniac tried to kill you and still might succeed. Toby didn't think that would be very comforting so he said nothing. He dried Sam's eyes, held his hand and said nothing.

Ron took a swig of coffee, it was his third cup he'd tried that morning and he was hoping the taste of it wouldn't make him retch like the others had. He put the cup down and wondered if he'd ever be able to stomach the taste again. He sighed and looked over the reports that had been sent him from the various cities where other attacks had occurred. He glanced at a picture of the President on the wall. Why couldn't the President just accept that going to the hospital so soon after a lock-down just wasn't feasible? He smiled at Charlie's look of sympathy as he had patiently explained why he was reluctant to allow the trip.

The sudden noise of his phone ringing pulled Ron from his thoughts. His smile widened as he listened to the Lieutenant from New York's 25th precinct. A few moments later he was hurrying towards the Oval Office. Maybe the President's trip to the hospital wasn't out of the question after all.

"Yes, Sam Seaborn. He was brought in yesterday." Tony Caisey waited for the nurse to tell him how Sam was. He glanced at the coffee vending machine at the end of the hall with contempt. Tony Casiey had never in his life had a cup of coffee from a vending machine. He prided himself on the quality of the coffee he sold. Since yesterday morning, though, that pride had been greatly dented. He hadn't been able to open his stall today as half of his stock had been taken away anyway. He was secretly pleased for he didn't think he could face the countless questions that his usual customers would be asking. He feared their accusatory stares just as much. Tony was innocent, the White House had told him so, the DC police had told him so but still he felt an enormous sense of guilt over what had happened and despite his wife's best efforts to make him see that was nonsense, the feeling had simply grown as more victims had fallen to the contaminated coffee that he had sold them.

"…end of the corridor then turn right."

Tony knew he had missed most of the nurse's directions but he had heard the word ICU and supposed it wouldn't be too hard to find. He thanked her and headed for the board he had seen by the doorway giving directions to the different departments. When he arrived he found an agitated man staring and shaking his head.

"It's a wonder anyone gets where they're going round here at all," he remarked on seeing Tony looking equally helplessly at the board.

Tony smiled. "It's a bit of a labyrinth, isn't it."

"There it is!" the handsome man exclaimed. "I'm on the wrong level. You'd think ICU would be right by the main entrance. Well, good day, I hope you find where you're headed for."

"Thanks, goodbye." Tony pretended to study the board until he saw the elevator doors close. He'd had a feeling that the man had reminded him of someone but it wasn't until he said where he was going that he realised who. Tony turned back the way he had come. He would come back and visit later. Sam wouldn't want him there now. Not when his dad had just arrived."

"Toby…" Sam couldn't hear his own voice so it didn't surprise him that Toby couldn't hear him. He tried again. "Toby." No reply came. Toby had fallen asleep a few minutes ago and Sam wanted to know, needed to know, why he was here. He had accepted that he wasn't going home but now he needed to know why he was here in the first place. He could remember opening letters in his office and that was the last thing he could remember before waking here in a sea of pain and fear that he couldn't escape. "Toby." He wriggled his fingers inside of Toby's hand but that drew no response. He started to panic. Toby wouldn't be able to hold onto him if he was asleep. What if he started to float again? "Toby!" This time he managed to raise his voice loud enough to be heard but it wasn't Toby who answered.

"Toby's right there, son, and I'm here now. Your old dad's here. Everything's alright now."

That was good. It was good that his dad was here. He was a strong man too and he would hold him down. He'd pull him back with one hand if he had to. Sam could remember his dad swinging him around in an arc with one hand. He'd be able to keep hold of him.

Michael Seaborn had been warned that Sam was very ill. He had been told to hurry. He thought he had prepared himself for seeing Sam but realised that he could never have been fully prepared for the image of pure helplessness which confronted him now. He watched as recognition flashed across his son's face. He held out his hand to Toby who had woken at the sound of his voice. "They couldn't find me. I'd have been here before but they couldn't find me."

"You're here now, Mr Seaborn." Toby had never met Sam's father but there was no need for an introduction, the likeness was striking.

"Michael, and I'm grateful that you've been here, Mr Ziegler." Michael also needed no introduction, he recognised Toby from pictures he had seen in the media and photos in Sam's apartment but even without those he would have known Toby instantly from Sam's vivid descriptions of him.

"Is Sam's mother here yet?" There was no mistaking the uneasy tone of Michael's voice.

Toby shook his head and managed not to smile at the relieved look on Michael's face.

Both men jumped as Sam's previously still form sprung to life. His back jerked away from the bed and the mask was ripped from his face. Before either of them could call for help, two nurses appeared by the bed closely followed by a doctor. "Page Dr Keel," she ordered as she pulled down the bed rail and lowered the head of the bed.

Toby stepped away from the bed and reached across to pull Michael with him but they didn't leave.

Dr Keel rushed into the room and immediately began to talk to Sam whose moans filled the room.

"Pancuronium?" the doctor asked.

Dr Keel's hand rested on Sam's head as he answered and he kept his gaze on Sam "Yes, 0.1 mg intravenously."

"Repeat?"

He nodded again and moved slightly so his colleague could administer the drug. "We're giving you something now, Sam. Just hold on, it will be over soon."

Sam's eyes tried to find the person who was speaking to him but all he could feel was panic and the pain that ripped through him with each new convulsion.

Doctor Keel looked on helplessly. Convulsions caused by Strychnine were unusual in that the victim remained fully aware of what was happening. He hoped that Sam would pass out. With each convulsion, Sam's lungs ceased to work. Keel saw him struggling for air and held the mask firmly over Sam's face.

"No, no, no…" Sam moaned and tried to force Keel's hand away. "No, please…God…please."

Toby closed his eyes to the sight before him and wished he could block out the sounds as easily too.

"Jesus, will you help him!" Sam's dad shrugged off Toby's hand and walked closer to the bed.

"We are. We've given him something it just takes a few minutes."

Somewhere amidst the terror, Sam heard a voice he recognised. It took him a few moments to place a name to it but when he did he called it out and Sam's dad moved hurriedly to the side of the bed. "I'm here, son. Here I am."

Michael grabbed Sam's hand and watched as the drugs slowly took effect. As his body relaxed, Sam fixed his eyes on his dad. Toby thought he looked more aware than he had since he had first fallen ill. He wondered if maybe the fit had somehow made Sam more lucid. He watched as Sam tugged on his father's sleeve.

"Dad…take me home…no one see us…you can do it. They won't…they won't..."

"The convulsions cause a decrease in oxygen to his brain, and the drugs will make him confused," Dr Keel explained, seeing the disappointment on Toby's face and anxiety on Michael's. "Tell him he can't go home. He seems to be pretty fixated on it but maybe he'll listen to you."

Michael leaned closer to Sam. "You are home, Sam. You're safe, at home, and I'm here too."

Toby wasn't surprised that he had managed to lie to his wife and son so successfully for so many years as he spoke so earnestly to Sam he almost had Toby believing he was at Sam's place as well.

"Am I?" Sam asked. "Okay…good."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Sam seemed to accept that he was no longer in a strange place. Toby and Michael assumed the knowledge was helping him to relax but Dr Keel knew it was the drugs that were gradually paralysing him in order to stop any more convulsions.

"Dad?"

"Right here."

"Can you get…can you ask Toby to come? He…he was...he kept…he was holding on and…he didn't...let me go." Sam didn't hear his father's reply. His eyes closed as his body finally succumbed to the drugs, and his exhaustion.