Chapter Fourteen

Toby parked in the first bay he saw and hurried over to where he had seen Josh on his way past the entrance. He was breathless by the time he got to him. "What's up, what's going on?"

"I don't know."

"Josh!"

"I don't know, Toby, I just went into Sam's room and saw he's back on that fucking ventilator and I just, I just freaked I suppose and came out here and phoned you and once I'd done that I was ready to go back in but I knew you wouldn't be long so I decided to wait."

"Is that the short version?" Toby asked grabbing Josh's arm and leading him back into the building.

Michael was getting into the elevator and on seeing Josh and Toby stuck his foot out to hold it. "I went home," he started. "Sam slept through the night and woke up feeling okay so I went home to have a shower and breakfast and then I was just in the shower, I'd only just got in and-"

Toby stopped him with a hand on his arm. "What happened?"

"His breathing was rattling a little in the night but I thought it was because he was sleeping so well. His chest is still too weak to cope with the infection. He's still too weak to cope with it. His condition worsened. The doc said it was very sudden. He didn't stop breathing, nothing like that, but they had to intubate him again. He was struggling too much."

As one, Josh and Toby sunk back against the rail around the elevator. Both fearing this would be one setback too many.

"Is Dr Keel on duty?"

"Yeah, he was the one who phoned me." Michael cursed as the lift went past the level they wanted and watched the light jumping from floor to floor. "He said they'd sedated Sam as he wouldn't let them intubate them. He said he got really upset and that was doing him no good so they sedated him. A mild sedation he called it."

Toby sensed that Michael felt the same as him and Josh about Sam's ability to cope with the setback. "So he's not unconscious then?"

Michael shook his head. "He's awake or at least he was when they phoned me." He watched the light indicate that the elevator was on its way back down. "At last," he mumbled as it reached their floor and the doors opened.

They walked quickly towards Sam's room and seeing no doctors to talk to, they went inside. A nurse was sitting with Sam, holding his hand and telling him to relax and to try not to think about the tube. "Just let it do all the work, Sam." She looked up at the three men who crowded nervously around the bed. "Ah, Mr Seaborn. Are you planning on breaking any more hospital chairs today?" she asked.

"In all fairness the floor broke the chair, as well as my fall."

She smiled and shook her head and laid a hand on his arm as she passed. "I'll page Dr Keel for you."

Sam had felt the nurse's hand leave his own and coldness seemed to cover his hand and slowly creep up his arm. He knew the nurse's name, knew it well, but for the life of him he couldn't think what it was. A few moments later, mumbled voices drifted towards him then they stopped and the nurse's hand was replaced with a larger one. It was warm and covered Sam's. He couldn't open his eyes. He wanted to but they were just too heavy. He tried to remember what the nurse had told him about relaxing and not thinking about breathing but it was hard. He felt trapped, pinned to the bed by the tube but that, he decided, was better than struggling and he had been struggling. He could remember the doctor telling him to stop.

The pain had gone and there was no fear anymore. Sam felt like he was slowly but steadily slipping away and he welcomed the sensation. He thought about opening his eyes, searching for the face that matched the hand so tightly holding onto his, but he wasn't sure he wanted to try. He felt a smooth hand stroke his forehead and a waft of a familiar scent told him CJ was also by his side.

The voices drifted around him. Some he knew well but others he didn't recognise. His father's was the clearest and when he heard it he tried harder to open his eyes but still the lure of the darkness was too much.

Eventually the pleas for him to open his eyes became insistent. He could hear Dr Keel's commands clearly. He ignored them all. Later, the room became quiet and only one hand remained holding his. He felt the hand tighten around his. "Please, Sam. Please open your eyes."

Josh's voice had wavered as he spoke and Sam didn't want his friend to feel bad, so slowly and reluctantly, he forced his heavy lids to rise.

"Hey, there you are," Josh said quietly. "Stay with us, Sam."

It was a softly spoken plea but powerful nonetheless. Sam tried to reassure Josh but it was as clear to Josh as it was to Sam that he was worn out and had little fight left.

"Please!" Josh begged but all Sam could manage in reply was a small, almost imperceptible nod before his eyes closed again.

"The logs of Lincoln's cabin were tested and found to date back to over thirty years after Lincoln was born. That doesn't mean that the cabin is a fake though, it's possible that some of the-" Bartlet stopped talking and looked over at Charlie. "Am I boring you?"

"No, sir."

"Is it possible that you already know the amazing and captivating story of Lincoln's log cabin?"

"No, but it's possible I already know all I want to about it."

Bartlet walked back to the door of the Oval Office. "Charlie, we've merely scratched the surface. I find the lack of desire to learn disappointing in one so young. I think you need someone to revive your love of knowledge."

Charlie's face fell. He had told himself many times to remember that one in the morning was not a good time to sass the President. His face fell further as he watched Bartlet enter his office, gesturing for Charlie to follow him.

They talked, or rather Bartlet talked, for another hour. The conversation led from log cabins to Lincoln's recklessness with security and how that had been caused by a desire not to be viewed as weak after being caught entering a building in disguise after a death threat. That in turn led to a discussion of other famous assassinations, which led inevitably to Dallas, then Rosslyn and finally, Sam.

Bartlet grew quiet, got up and poured himself another cup of tea and then returned to the sofa. "I spoke to Sam's doctor today." Charlie looked surprised. "I know you're giving me updates from the hospital and I'm grateful but I wanted to speak to someone myself." He took a sip from the cup and placed it on the table. "What's going on? I know people behave differently when they're ill and Dr Keel doesn't know Sam like we do, but the man he described to me bore no resemblance to the Sam I know."

Charlie had only visited Sam a few times but he had talked about his visits to Josh and Toby and other people who had visited and the general consensus seemed to be the same: Sam was fading. Each visit, each day, he seemed to be getting further and further away.

"Well, first of all, I can't imagine going through what Sam's been through. He's been so ill but also it's been setback after setback…" Charlie looked down at his hands briefly before straightening in his chair and facing the President. "But it's like he's not here anymore, like he doesn't want to be here anymore."

Bartlet frowned and reached absently for his cup but set it back down without taking a sip. "Then in that case, I think it's time for me to make another visit."

Toby had spoken to Dr Keel at length but by the time he returned to Sam's room he didn't feel any easier. If anything, he felt worse.

Keel had taken Toby to his office and explained how Sam's body could only take so much. He had told him that in many ways Sam was recovering well but that he was so weak that any setback at this stage was a major blow. His prognosis was hesitant and far from optimistic. Toby had walked slowly back to Sam's room and tried to put a positive spin on Keels words but try as he might there was no way he could make himself feel better. Dr Keel had told him that if Sam recovered quickly from the chest infection he had a good chance.

"By quickly…what's the time frame?"

For a brief moment, Keel's gaze strayed to the floor but then returned to Toby. "I would expect it to take a few more days of intubation then maybe a week or so before-"

"But for someone in Sam's condition?" Toby butted in.

"For someone in Sam's condition-" Keel stared directly at Toby and his eyes said more than his words which followed. "I would expect it to take quite some time longer than that."

"And 'quite some time' isn't really 'quickly' is it."

"No," Keel shook his head. "No, Toby it isn't."

Josh looked up as Toby returned to the room. "Where've you been?"

"Just needed to stretch my legs." Toby watched through the window as Michael hit ineffectively at the side of the vending machine. "Josh, when you're ready, I think we should go some place and have a talk."

Josh didn't turn around but remained staring at Sam. "Yeah, sure, just give me a minute."

Michael returned and watched Toby and Josh say goodbye to Sam. He followed them to the door. "I just wanted to say thanks to both of you, for being here for Sam."

"He was there for me," Josh replied. "He always has been." They walked towards the elevator. Toby glanced back at the room before rounding the corner. There was an air of finality to the night that was making him uneasy. He sped up to catch up with Josh.

Josh listened patiently while Toby related what Dr Keel had told him. The beer Toby had bought him remained untouched. Even when Toby told him that he thought they should start preparing for the worst, Josh didn't speak. When Toby finished, Josh unfolded his hands and placed them on the table. "I'm sure Sam would be really pleased to hear you given up on him so easily."

"I'm not. Josh, did you listen to a word I said?"

"Yeah, I listened and you can be Mr Doom and Gloom if you want to but I'm not going to go along with it. Sam's doing great. If he was going to…if he wasn't going to make it he'd have given up days ago. He's fighting and you should be too!"

"You think I want to say this stuff? You think I find this any easier than you do?" Toby lifted his glass and drained it. He looked as if he was about to speak again but then got up, grabbed his coat and stormed out of the bar."

It was ten minutes later that Josh's hands stopped shaking enough for him to be able lift his own drink to his lips.

The call came during staff. Margaret knocked and then entered Leo's office and spoke quietly to him. He broke into a grin and looked at his staff. "Sam's off the ventilator. Doctor says his breathing's much stronger."

Toby nodded slowly at the news. CJ broke into a grin that mirrored Leo's and Josh sat down heavily on the sofa. "Now, get out of here all of you. And no one is sneaking off to the hospital today. It's Cheese Day and you're stuck with it."

"You let Sam off last year," Josh pointed out.

"And I'm letting him off this year too." Leo put his glasses back on and sat down at his desk. He looked up and frowned. "You're still here."

Toby, Josh and CJ walked back slowly towards their offices and the inevitable flow of lunatics that Big Block of Cheese Day brought with it.

By lunchtime, Toby had had just about all he could take of designs for frog road crossings and the use of a cell phone to send messages into space. He took a bite of his sandwich and savoured the thirty minutes of sanity before his next appointment arrived. He rolled the wrapper into a ball and threw it into the bin. Whilst he had been pretending to listen to his visitors that morning he had been thinking of Sam. The news that he was breathing on his own again should have cheered him but it didn't. He had lost the awful sense of foreboding that had accompanied him yesterday but it had not been replaced by relief or hope. He glanced at his watch. If he rushed through the next two appointments he could be at the hospital by three. Having made his decision, Toby went out to the Bullpen and told Bonny that if his next 'lunatic' was here, he'd see him now.

Toby waited while a nurse took readings from the various machines Sam was hooked up to then straightened the sheets and made him more comfortable. While she worked she kept talking and tried in vain to encourage Sam to respond. She nodded and smiled at Toby as she walked past and he thanked her, knowing that if Sam was in a different state of mind he would have thanked her himself.

But Sam wasn't in a different state of mind. He was in the same state that Toby had seen him in for the past few days and he'd had enough of it. Watching Sam's disinterest in what was going on around him only strengthened Toby's conviction that he should say what he felt needed to be said.

He walked over to the bed. Sam didn't look at him and so he placed his hand over Sam's. "Sam, it's me." Sam's eyes opened but closed again on seeing Toby who sat down and sighed. He rubbed furiously at his forehead whilst thinking of how to begin. After a little while he leaned closer to Sam. "I know you're tired and I know you're scared but you-" Toby watched Sam turn away from him. "Sam!" Any doubt Toby had about what he wanted to say left him now and was replaced by a desperate anger. He shouted his name again and Sam opened eyes but didn't face him. "You've given up!" It was an accusation and one that Toby hoped would garner some sort of response from Sam but he remained staring at the wall. "Look at me!" Toby struggled with the bedrail before managing to lower it. "Sam, turn your head and look at me when I'm speaking to you." When he finally turned to face him, Sam's expression seemed to be a mixture of fear and hopelessness but instead of pacifying Toby it had the reverse effect. "Damn it, Sam, fight this!"

"Trying," Sam mumbled.

"Try harder," Toby demanded.

"Can't."

"Yes you can!" Toby crouched down beside the bed until his eyes were level with Sam's. "Stop lying there feeling sorry for yourself and thinking about how ill you feel, how tired you are and how hard it is, and start fighting."

Bewildered by Toby's sudden anger, Sam tried to turn away from him but Toby wouldn't let him and placed a hand on his shoulder pulling him back towards him.

"Fight!" Toby pleaded.

"Can't…please listen…trying but can't."

"Fight!" Toby repeated.

"Nothing to fight…with…can't…trying hard…but slipping…keep slipping…"

Toby thought Sam's analogy was spot on; he felt like Sam was slipping away too. He grabbed Sam's hand in both of his. "Then hold on. Hold on and you won't slip any further. I won't let you!"

Toby stared at Sam, trying to somehow force his own willpower into him. He didn't understand Sam's expression as he stared back at him until he voiced the word that made sense of it. "Sorry," Sam said as his eyes closed and he fell back into the darkness that was becoming more and more welcoming to him.