Chapter Fifteen
Toby had walked out of the room and straight past Diane who was talking to a nurse. He kept walking, heading for the White House but carried on past it and continued his aimless wandering. A call from Josh forty minutes later was what finally pulled him back to the real world.
"Where are you? Leo's having some sort of weird cheese fit. I covered for you but you better get yourself back here."
"Yeah, I'm…" Toby looked around to see exactly where he was. "Look I'll be there in five."
"Everything's okay isn't it?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," Toby lied. He hung up and shook his head, trying to dislodge the replay of his visit to Sam.
"That would be a good day to visit Sam," Bartlet suggested as Charlie went through his diary for the next few days.
"The day Mrs Bartlet goes to New York," Charlie answered.
"Actually it's the day after she goes. You can never be too careful."
Charlie smiled and gently shook his head. "I'll speak to Ron and give him the dates we've got."
"He'll love it," Bartlet said confidently. "He's a sucker for clandestine visits to hospitals he just doesn't like to let it show."
Charlie's eyebrows rose but he said nothing. He was almost at the door when he was called back into the room.
"How did you get on with that other thing?" Bartlet asked.
"I think I've found the perfect one."
Bartlet smiled. "Good. I promise I'll go with whatever you decide."
"Just like the carving knife?" he asked innocently.
"Yes, exactly like that."
Charlie sighed deeply. "I'll have a few alternatives ready."
"What did you say?" CJ repeated. She had been with Toby for a few minutes and although she had drawn from him that something was wrong and that it was to do with something he had said to Sam that was all she had managed to ascertain.
"It doesn't matter." Toby looked up and saw Leo heading towards his office. "I need this like I need a whole in the head." He stood up as Leo entered. "Before you start your cheese sermon, I've kept all my scheduled meetings. I just hurried them through a little."
"Hurried them through?" Leo queried.
"Yeah, it was a processed cheese day."
CJ snickered at Toby's comment but then saw the expression on Leo's face. "I need to go meet with a man who thinks the alphabet as we know it is a little muddled."
Leo looked at Toby. Any inclination he had to lecture him about skipping out on cheese day had long since gone. He looked awful. Leo took in the dark circles, permanent frown and pale complexion as if seeing him for the first time. He sat down on Toby's sofa and shook his head. "It's a hell of a thing to have to keep going when all you want to do is go be with your friend."
Toby glanced up sharply. "When I'm here you've got my full attention. No deadlines have been missed. Sam's work has been spread out amongst the staff."
"I've got no complaints, Toby. You'd know if I had." With a nod of his head, Leo indicated that Toby should sit down which, reluctantly, he did. "I'm saying it's a hard time you're going through. We all are. Josh is about as useful as an intern at the moment and before you ask, I've told him. He accepted it and pointed out that an intern would probably have more energy." Toby smiled and relaxed back in his chair. "Is there anything I can do? Would it make things easier if I found a proper replacement for Sam?"
"No!" Toby's response was heard out in the Bullpen. "No, that wouldn't help. Anyway, where would we put the flowers?"
Leo had seen the bouquets in Sam's office that had been arriving steadily and were dealt with by Ginger and Bonny. He shrugged. "Fair point." He waited until Toby looked up at him and held the eye contact. "He will pull through, Toby. I know you may not believe that now but he hasn't come this far just to give up."
For a brief moment Toby felt like confessing his outburst to Sam earlier and the emotion, that he was beginning to suspect was regret, building up in him.
Toby spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening going over and over what he had said to Sam. He swung from being positive that he had done the right thing, to an almost paranoid fear that what he had said would somehow cause Sam to give up once and for all. He avoided Josh and managed to dodge CJ as well. He went home earlier than usual and had vague notions of going to bed early with a good book and even better bourbon. He was in the process of locking up for the night when he said out loud, "This is ridiculous!" grabbed his keys from the hall table and set off for the hospital.
By the time he got there he decided that he had been right and Sam had needed a bit of forceful encouragement. He decided that he would follow it up with some more gentle persuasion. Perhaps try to convince Sam how needed he was. Maybe even hint that he needed him. He wouldn't apologise for what he'd said, it needed saying. By the time he stepped out of the elevator he had convinced himself that he'd find Sam keen to listen to his advice, perhaps a little contrite at having waited so long to realise that he needed to fight.
He approached the room and saw the agent posted outside grimacing. Bartlet had insisted that until Hannity had been tried and sentenced, Sam would remain protected. An array of different agents had settled into a team of three. It was Gary, the oldest of the agents who was standing outside Sam's room now. "Jesus," he muttered shaking his head and still grimacing as Toby approached him. "I don't know how he stands it."
Toby's confused expression at his statement soon disappeared as he heard what Gary was referring to. The sound of retching could be clearly heard coming from Sam's room.
Toby knew that Michael often stayed late into the night and he had spent a few nights by Sam's bedside himself but he had thought that Sam's sickness was under control.
"I think he has bad dreams," Gary confided softly and Toby nodded. He pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Neither Sam nor the two nurses noticed his arrival.
Sam retched painfully over the bowl that was held out for him. One of the nurses stroked his back reassuringly. The other handed Sam a glass and told him to rinse, not swallow. His harsh breaths filled the room and Toby winced at the pain he could imagine accompanying them. Sam started retching again. He spilt the glass of water; it covered him and ran under the bed clothes. "Nearly over now," one of the nurses said soothingly. "Try to relax and breathe." Sam nodded but his frantic gulps for air displayed his inability to calm down. "Does your chest hurt?" he was asked and he nodded. "More than usual?" he nodded again. More retching, more gasps of pain, more frantic breaths. Toby forced himself to watch the scene but made no move to let Sam know he was there. "Sam, you really need to calm down now. I know you can't get your breath but you need to really concentrate and remember the breathing exercises we did earlier." Both of Sam's hands were clutching the sheet, his fingers working desperately at the folds of material within them. One of the nurses went to the phone on the wall and a few moments later Toby stepped aside to let a doctor enter the room.
"How long?" he asked the nurses.
"Fifteen minutes."
The doctor quickly examined Sam and his eyes were suddenly illuminated as a torch was shone into them. Toby was struck at how wide with fear they were as the light briefly displayed them.
"Sam, I'm going to give you something to help calm you down." He turned away from the bed and prepared the injection. "I know you don't like this but you need it. It won't put you right out just help calm you down, okay?"
Sam shook his head. He tried to tell the doctor that he didn't want the drugs but he was unable to form any words beyond 'no' so he repeated that. The drug worked quickly. Sam stopped speaking and gradually his breaths slowed. He mumbled that he didn't want to sleep, that he didn't like the dark, that he didn't want to go. Silently the nurses worked around him, making occasional reassuring noises as they removed his soaked top and sheets. Toby watched as Sam was rolled one way and then the other as the sheets were stripped efficiently and new ones placed beneath him. They rummaged through his bedside table and found a top still in its wrapper that Josh had bought and placed that on him.
It was only after all this that one of them looked up and saw Toby. "Mr Ziegler!" She walked over to him. "It's very late. Are you going to stay?" Toby nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Sam. He felt a hand on his arm and looked back up at the nurse. "His fever is high. He gets disorientated when he wakes. He'll sleep now but it will be good for him to have someone here when he wakes up." She left the room, followed by the other nurse who smiled at Toby as he pulled a chair towards the bed. He stared at Sam. Even sedated, he wore a slight frown. Toby held his watch under the bedside lamp to see it was two in the morning. He took off his coat and tie and reached for the book he had yet to read to Sam.
He read two pages then replaced it on the shelf. Sam had shifted slightly and his face was turned fully towards Toby. The sound of his scratchy breaths filled the room and occasionally his breathing would hitch and Toby would hold his own until Sam's next shuddering breath out. He fell asleep and dreamed that he had written a speech but given the President the first draft and had to stand in his pyjamas while the abysmal speech was delivered and the assembled dignitaries laughed at him. He woke with a start, his mind whirling with words which were regretted and the impossibility of taking them back.
Sam was awake and murmuring something that Toby couldn't make out. Toby watched him for a moment before leaning closer to the bed and gently placing his hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's okay," he told him but Sam didn't react to his voice or touch. His gaze roamed restlessly across the ceiling. His hair was damp and his forehead covered with sweat. Toby reached for the bowl of cold water that was a permanent fixture by the side of his bed and wrung out the cloth. The cold sensation against his face made Sam start and he moved away from it.
"Who…who? Where's David?"
Toby removed the cloth and chewed at his lip, wishing Michael or Josh were here both of whom he thought would handle Sam's delirium better than he could. "David's not here," Toby hedged as he tried to place the cloth back over Sam's forehead.
"Do the trees know?" The question was asked with such sincerity that Toby paused before answering not at all sure if the trees knowing would be a good or bad thing.
"I don't think so," he hedged.
"Good…good…" appeased by this, Sam allowed the cloth to be wiped against his face and neck. "Dad?"
"No, it's me, Sam, it's Toby." Sam turned to him but Toby knew that he wasn't really seeing him.
"Toby…" Sam said the word as if learning it anew. "Toby..." He frowned and his hand wiped clumsily at his forehead. "Toby…you know…you were there…"
"Where?" Toby asked and it was almost comical how Sam repeated the word back to him. But the look on his face and rising agitation were far from funny.
"When we go…walk…we stay back…not near rope…stay back with me…safe then…wait for others to go…stay back…will you?"
"Yes." Toby was relieved it was clear what the answer Sam wanted was.
"Yes, best…go last and don't…don't go near ropes."
Sam's face was earnest as he tried to persuade Toby.
"Been thinking…about it…thinking and we'll be…be…safe if we let…let them go first…no guns at back…didn't shoot there…just ropes…just there."
"Okay, Sam, we'll do that." Toby sighed as he watched Sam relax and sink back against the pillows. The reprieve was short-lived though, Sam's head sprung up from the pillow and he twisted to where Toby was sitting.
"Tell others…tell them…tell Josh…CJ…tell them…tell-"
"Okay, okay, calm down, it's alright, I'll tell them, I'll tell them." Not knowing what else to do, Toby reached for the cloth once more and ordered Sam to lie back. He kept up a litany of reassuring words as he wiped the cloth over Sam's face. He kept it up until Sam's hand released its tight hold on the bedrail and fell back onto the sheets.
His breathing was louder than Sam's as he collapsed back against the chair and absently wiped at his own forehead with the cloth. Realising what he was doing, he let out a small chuff of laughter and shook his head as he dumped it back into the bowl. Sam's eyes were closed and his breathing returning to a more steady rhythm. Toby watched his chest slowly rise and fall until the darkness and quiet lulled him to sleep once more.
When Toby woke again, it was to the sound of activity around the bed. He pretended to still be asleep and watched a nurse he didn't recognise taking a reading from one of the machines by Sam's bed. "Do you still feel sick?" she asked and Toby peeked at Sam's top and realised it had been changed again. He caught Sam's shake of his head before closing his eyes again. When he opened them he watched Sam's face in the light that was now coming into the room from the corridor outside. Sam didn't move but his eyes followed the movement outside as nurses, cleaners and doctors went about their morning tasks. Toby couldn't tell if Sam was lucid or not. He seemed to be focused but somehow overly concentrating on the flurry of movement outside.
Slowly, Sam's gaze turned towards the ceiling and lingered there before his eyes closed. Toby had been in the hospital this early a few times but on those occasions he had been too caught up in events to truly take notice of what was happening around him. But now, sitting quietly in Sam's room, he watched the hospital come to life and realised that this was a scene that Sam had witnessed countless times. He wondered if it was the same every morning and if Sam recognised the routine or if he just lay there and let it all happen around him.
His thoughts were interrupted by a movement from the bed as Sam turned towards early morning sun through the window before seeing his visitor. "Toby!" A small smile flickered across Sam's face but was replaced with a frown. "Why are you here?"
Toby wondered if Sam was going to start talking about David and trees again but when he didn't Toby answered. "You had a bad night, Sam, so I stayed."
Sam nodded and sighed and his gaze returned to the window. If someone had asked Toby a few weeks ago what colour Sam's eyes were he would have had to think before replying but all he seemed to do recently was stare at them hoping for some sign that Sam was fighting or at least not giving up completely. They were blue, Sam's eyes. Bluer, Toby thought, than any eyes he had ever seen before. Maybe it was the blue top Sam was wearing but this morning they seemed even bluer. Still no sign of any spark there though, the spark that Toby had seen so many times before but not given a second thought to. "How are you feeling?"
Sam looked back at Toby but didn't reply. He shrugged and then looked away. Toby moved his chair, gaining Sam's attention again. "Do you want me to go?"
Sam shook his head as quickly as he could. Toby couldn't read the expression on his face at first. He waited until Sam's eyes fell on him again and then he could read it only too well. He started to shake his head in a bid to stop whatever apology Sam was about to make.
"Toby…I don't…" Sam trailed off and returned to looking at the ceiling. "I'm tired, Toby…can you…understand that? Tired and can't…make myself…" Sam's eyes closed and when they opened they rested on Toby. "Sorry…letting you down…know that…but can't…and don't like people hurting…because me…people wanting me…better…don't want that…so I'm sorry."
Toby grabbed Sam's hand. "I shouldn't have said, yesterday, I shouldn't have said what I did. I know you're trying and don't worry about us. Just think about getting better, that's all. I know you're-"
Toby's words were cut off as two nurses entered the room. One went immediately to the machines and picked up Sam's notes on the end of the bed. The other poured a glass of water for Sam before placing the empty jug onto a trolley. "Rough night, Sam, but here we are- another beautiful morning."
Sam nodded and tried out another smile. He turned to tell Toby that he didn't mind about what he had said but he was too late, Toby had already gone.