Chapter Twelve

Sam managed a smile on seeing his father and then looked across at Toby who was trying to hide the multitude of emotions he was feeling. "It's alright, Toby," Sam said and Toby realised he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding them at all.

Michael and Toby stood at the side of the bed on the opposite Father Kelly. Diane seemed unsure of where to stand and eventually decided that the end of the bed would be the best place.

"Through this Holy Anointing may the Lord in His love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit."

Toby listened to the words and focused on Father Kelly's hands as they traced the cross on Sam's forehead. Sam turned his hands so his palms were facing up and Father Kelly repeated the action on them as well.

"May He who frees you from sin save you and raise you up."

Toby looked down at his own hands which were clasped in front of him and silently recited a psalm. When he looked up again Father Kelly was concluding the sacrament.

"Per istam sanctam unctionem, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid deliquisti, Amen."

Michael and Diane said Amen also and Diane crossed herself. Michael thanked Father Kelly and then bent down and kissed Sam. The priest began to pack his bag and Diane moved to the side of the bed and sat down. The sun had moved and was shining into the room. Toby didn't know if it was that, the beauty of the priest's words or the silence that now enveloped the room that made him feel so at peace. He only hoped Sam was feeling it too. He looked at him and could see in his eyes that he was.

Sam had looked at Father Kelly during the Sacrament but now that it was over he turned to his dad. It was clear he could hardly keep his eyes open and Michael told him to go to sleep. "Don't mind us, son, you go ahead and rest." He picked up a cloth from the bedside table and gently sponged Sam's face and throat carefully avoiding the Holy oil that remained on his forehead.

Father Kelly placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and Sam whispered his thanks to him. He squeezed to let Sam know he had heard and then shook hands with Michael and Toby. Diane followed him from the room.

"I'm glad he had it," Michael said to Toby in hushed tones.

"Yeah, it was, I don't know, more uplifting than I expected." Toby sat down beside the bed but Sam was already drifting off to sleep. He brushed some hair away from Sam's forehead and laid his hand on his head. "El na refa na lah." He spoke the words quietly and remained looking at Sam for a while before slowly standing, nodding a goodbye at Michael and heading back to work.

Eight days passed. For Josh they passed agonisingly slowly as he waited for some clear sign that Sam was on the mend. They passed equally slowly for Toby but he wasn't looking for signs of improvement, he was just thankful for each day that passed without deterioration in Sam's condition.

Sam's breathing neither worsened nor improved. His fever dipped and rose but mainly stayed slightly above normal. He was sluggish and his slow responses concerned Dr Keel almost as much as Sam's inability to remain lucid for any length of time. It wasn't any of this that had Toby so worried though. He was worried about Sam's state of mind. He knew that Sam was confused and exhausted but he didn't think that was the sole cause of Sam's despondency.

After the initial days in hospital there had been signs that Sam was trying to break through the cloud of drugs and exhaustion. A comment or tightening of his hand was enough for Toby to know that Sam was fighting. But, in the past few days such signs had stopped. Even when lucid, Sam showed little interest in who was with him. If his hand was squeezed the pressure was not returned. It took a while to even gain his attention which seemed fixed on the wall or ceiling. Toby expressed his concern to Dr Keel but he seemed to think Sam's depression was a normal reaction to the illness and that fighting the affects of it was taking any strength he had.

"It's not like, Sam," Toby insisted as he walked towards Sam's room with Keel.

"Of course it isn't, but you can't predict how someone will respond to something like this. A certain amount of depression following a major illness is reasonably common and Sam's still got a long way to go."

Toby wondered if Keel was right and he was just obsessing over this because there was nothing he could do about the physical aspects of Sam's condition. "Yeah, maybe, I just think he needs to try to…" Toby shrugged helplessly at the doctor. "I don't know."

Keel stopped in front of the door to Sam's room and placed his hand on Toby's arm, "Look, Sam is exhausted, bewildered, frightened, nauseated, in pain, and struggling to breathe, does that sound like a recipe for pep and ginger to you?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" Toby sighed and followed Keel into the room.

"Good morning, Sam. I hear you've had a good night's rest." Keel stood by the side of the bed but Toby held back. He watched as Sam's gaze slowly drifted away from the ceiling and towards Keel. He nodded slowly and then turned back to his study of the ceiling tiles.

"Your oxygen levels have increased slightly which is good news and we've reduced the pain meds." Keel continued as if Sam was still focused on him, "How are you feeling, Sam. Do you think your pain has decreased?"

Sam shrugged. "How much longer?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're asking do you mean how much longer until you feel less pain?"

Sam frowned, "No, how much…longer…until it's over?"

Keel's attempt at the cheerful doctor routine hadn't gained the reaction he'd hoped for. He glanced briefly at Toby before sitting down beside the bed. "It's going to be a little while yet, Sam. You're better than you were but you're still pretty ill and need to stay here so we can keep giving you the drugs and care you need to make you better as quickly as possible."

"Oh." Sam closed his eyes and turned away from Keel.

"I know you might not feel it but everyday you're getting a little stronger." Keel waited for a response but there was none. He gestured for Toby to follow him out. "Let him have some time alone. Come back tonight."

Toby reluctantly agreed and headed back to the West Wing. He left the parking lot and drove slowly, purposefully taking a longer route. He tried to think what Sam was normally like when he was ill and realised he had never known Sam to be sick. He thought of ways that he could try to get Sam to respond and made a mental list of books he could take on his next visit. He wondered briefly if talking to him about work might make him more animated but dismissed the notion when he realised Abbey Bartlet would literally kill him if she found out he had been taking the West Wing into Sam's room. Settled on his course of action he changed lanes and sped up.

He had only been back in his office for a few moments when Josh came to tell him that they were needed in the Oval. Toby shot a quizzical look at Josh but he had already left the room and set such a pace that Toby wasn't able to keep up with him.

CJ was sitting opposite Leo and looked up at Toby as he took a seat beside her.

"I wanted to tell you what Ron has found out about Hannity." Bartlet walked over and sat down in front of his staff. "Joseph Hannity wanted to see what would happen if he injected strychnine into some of the coffee he was transporting from the warehouse where he works. He wanted to see how long it would take to find him. He wanted to see what the news coverage would be like. So far he seems to have enjoyed every moment that he's spent in custody. Joseph Hannity is a sick man." Bartlet looked at his staff. He'd seen them work beyond the point of exhaustion many times but he had never seen them looking so weary or despondent. "Maybe it's better this way? Maybe Sam will find it easier to accept than if it was a targeted attack?"

"Why would he?" Josh leant forward slightly when he asked the question and Leo noticed the tensing of Toby's frame.

"Well, I just think that Sam might be able to forgive or at least make sense of the actions of a mentally unstable man more easily than an attack motivated by-"

"You don't know what Sam's thinking!" Josh stood up and Leo told him to sit down. It wasn't so much that he had interrupted the President, although that was bad enough, it was the tone he had used to do it.

"And you do?" Bartlet's response so surprised the others that they made no further move to calm either man down.

"I know a thing or two about trying not to feel like a victim."

Leo stood but Bartlet held his hand up to him allowing Josh to continue.

"I know what it's like to have your world shattered and your ideals shaken for a reason that repulses you. I know what it's like and now Sam does too. So don't stand there and tell me that I don't know what he's thinking. I know what he's thinking."

Bartlet looked like he was about to turn away but then faced Josh and in a quieter voice added, "They shot me too, Josh." He away and by the time he got to his desk Leo had ushered everyone out of the room. Toby found himself once more hurrying along the corridor after Josh. "Hey! Wait up!" Josh stopped reluctantly and allowed Toby to guide him past Donna and into his office. "He didn't mean it like it sounded, what I mean is he didn't mean anything by it, you just said the wrong thing at the wrong time."

Josh sat down at his desk and started to pick up his messages. "Thanks, Toby, but it's fine. Did you need anything I'm a bit pushed here?"

Toby stared at Josh but he didn't look back up at him so he left the room indicating to Donna with a subtle glance that she should go in. She waited for a few moments before doing so.

Whilst Toby had been thinking of what to read to Sam, Josh had been doing the same. Toby had finally settled on a book called Freakonomics that was described as a quirky look at everyday life through economics. Toby could almost hear Bartlet and Sam discussing its content in detail. Josh had thought hard about what Sam might like. He'd even browsed the book that Donna had packed from Sam's bedside table but in the end he settled on something that he knew for certain Sam read- the Washington Post.

Both men arrived early one evening to begin their reading sessions convinced that was all Sam needed was to be brought out of himself. They found Michael sitting by his bed, nodding off in the warm room. Michael and Diane had come to an arrangement with visiting hours which meant neither had to see the other.

"His temp's up," Michael announced as they walked into the room. "He's sleeping most of the time and not making much sense when he's awake."

Toby placed the book on the end of the bed and started taking off his coat while Josh rolled and unrolled the copy of the Post. "Sit down, Josh," Michael ordered seeing Josh's restlessness.

"You know, I think I might go get something to eat, come back later, his temp will be back to normal by then." He placed the paper on top of Toby's book and hurriedly left the room.

Toby settled into a chair and looked up to see Michael's quizzical expression. "Ah, well, Josh is finding it all a bit, you know." Michael's puzzled frown told him that he didn't know. "Josh has a problem with not being in control at the best of times so he finds this difficult. I think he thought he was going to come in here tonight read two sports reports and an article and Sam would suddenly be okay again."

Michael nodded. "Somehow I think it's going to take more than that."

"Yeah," Toby agreed. He leant forward and placed his hand on Sam's forehead. "He's burning. Has Dr Keel seen him?"

"An hour ago but the nurses are in and out. They said it wasn't any higher than it had been in the night." Michael's voice was casual but Toby didn't miss how he was sitting with his hands held tightly in his lap or the frown that he had worn since Toby had entered the room. "I need to make a few calls. Will you stay?"

"I'm done for the day. I'll stay as long as I'm needed." Toby pulled his chair closer to the bed and picked up the cloth from the bowl that had been left on the table. He wiped Sam's face and neck and rinsed the cloth out. He started to apply it again but Sam moved his head away. Toby's hand stilled and he waited to see if Sam was waking.

Sam felt the coolness on his face and savoured it. He heard a familiar voice but couldn't quite work out the words. He turned his head towards it and opened his eyes. Toby was there and asking him to do something. He tried to sit up and remember what it was that he hadn't done. He wanted to apologise for falling asleep but the sofa was so comfortable. He closed his eyes again and thought about what he was meant to be doing.

"Remember my speech to the environmentalists is coming up? I'll need you for that, Sam. So we'll make it a date shall we?"

Sam's eyes opened wide. The speech! The President was waiting for his speech. His hands moved restlessly as he tried to find the file. Maybe it was papers. Maybe he hadn't put it in a folder yet.

Toby frowned at Sam's question. "What folder?" Sam's hands moved more urgently. "What folder, Sam?"

"Didn't we…put in folder…Ginger knows…need find it…he's waiting…said I'd…do…said I'd do it…"

Toby was unnerved at how Sam was looking right through him. He stood up and leaned closer to him. "It's okay, you gave it to him," Toby said, without having a clue what folder Sam was talking about or who he was worried he hadn't given it to. He placed a hand on Sam's face and hoped his words reassured him. They didn't.

"No! I didn't!" Sam tried to sit up. "Didn't and never not…got it done…before…never…always get…it done." With that Sam's eyes closed and his frantic ramblings ended as abruptly as they had begun.

Toby slumped into the chair and wiped his hand over his face. Michael returned and looked at Toby. He was exhausted and Michael couldn't imagine how he managed to be here so often for Sam and keep up at the White House. "I grabbed a nurse out there and said that Sam's not doing too well. She paged the doc. I don't think Keel's on tonight but she said she'd get Dr Nashton."

Toby glanced at Michael and nodded. Sam's hand was moving restlessly on the sheet and a soft moan filled the space between the two men. His eyes opened slowly and he stared at the ceiling before lowering his gaze slightly to the door in the corner of the room. "Goblin," he announced and Michael shot Toby a puzzled look. "What's he waiting…for…what…he do?" Sam looked at the person sitting beside him and then across at the other man. "See it?"

Toby shook his head. "I don't see it, Sam, it must have gone."

Sam's hand hit the bed weakly but his anger was clear. "Not gone…there…up there!"

Michael followed his line of vision but all he could see was the door. It wasn't the door Sam was looking at though it was the fluorescent green, exit sign above it.

"See…there…waiting…bad. Do you…think…bad?" Sam asked, his gaze never once leaving the 'goblin'.

Michael looked again at the door and this time noticed the sign and realised what his delirious son was looking so fixedly at. "No, it's not a bad goblin. I think it's a friendly goblin just hanging out and keeping an eye on things."

Sam's attention drifted from the sign and towards the voice that sounded so comforting. "Think so?"

"Yeah, no doubt about it." Michael caught Toby's look and shrugged. "I haven't got much to work with here, Toby," he whispered, "what do you expect me to say?"

"He taking… my air."

Toby leaned closer to Sam and took hold of his shoulder, shaking him slightly to get his attention. "No he isn't, you have plenty of air. Here," Toby lifted Sam's hand so he could feel the oxygen mask, "this is giving you all the air you need. He can't take that." Toby removed his hand but Sam's stayed on the mask and so the rest of his rambling words were muffled by it.

"He's drifting off again," Michael said. He stood and stretched his back trying to work out the kinks that sitting by Sam's bed for hours had caused. "I need to get back to the hotel for a while, Sarah's coming to spend a few nights here and I said I'd pick her up from the airport."

Toby didn't need to ask who Sarah was. He said goodnight to Michael and returned to Sam's bed. An hour later he was joined by Josh who picked up the Washington Post and settled down in Michael's vacated chair. "I was going to read to him," Josh said quietly.

"I know," Toby replied. "So was I."