Chapter Sixteen

Charlie waited for Bartlet to return from Leo's office and then walked up to the desk and proudly placed the box on it. Bartlet looked at Charlie over his glasses. "This is the one?"

"Without a doubt," Charlie replied with his fingers crossed.

Bartlet opened the cardboard box and pulled out a wooden case. He rubbed his hands together. "Looking good so far, Charlie." Carefully he opened the stiff latch and pulled the lid upwards. The chess pieces lay nobly in line and the brass plaque sent splinters of light to rest on Bartlet's face. He smiled and nodded. "This is the one alright." He picked up one of the pieces and held it up to the light. Carefully he removed the rest of the pieces and pulled out the chess board that lay beneath them. "Okay, I want to write a message and then you can take it over to Sam."

Charlie nodded and left the room, relieved that Bartlet was happy with what had only turned out to be the fourth chess board that he had selected for him.

CJ chewed on her pencil for a while before throwing it down on her desk and walking outside to Carol. "Can you step inside for a minute?"

Carol frowned at the unusually formal request and followed CJ into her office. CJ pointed her to the sofa and then perched on the desk. "Okay," she paused and picked up a pen pot, "Okay," she said again before replacing the pot and joining Carol on the sofa.

"Are you going to fire me?" Carol asked.

"No!"

"Okay, because it feels a little like you're about to fire me."

CJ turned to face Carol and opened her mouth as if to speak then closed it again.

"CJ!" Carol cried in exasperation.

"Okay, here's the thing. Dr Keel-"

"Does he have a first name?" Carol interrupted.

"I don't know but I think it may be Ronald. He's asked me to go to a doctors' dinner, they're not eating doctors you understand, it's a dinner for doctors."

"Okay, that's good. So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I've been on a few dates now and I really like him but it just feels, I don't know, wrong. I keep thinking I'm going to the hospital to see Sam but a part of me is looking forward to seeing Richard."

"You go see Sam as much as you can. Are you telling me that you wouldn't be visiting Sam so much if Dr Keel wasn't there?"

"No!" CJ stood up and walked back to her desk. She perched on the edge and studied her shoes for a while. "No. I just have this whole simultaneous emotions things going on and it's making me wonder if I should just put this thing with Richard on hold for a while."

"What, until Sam dies?"

"Carol!" CJ stared in shock at her.

"Sam would absolutely hate it if he knew you were even having this conversation. You know that." Carol watched CJ relax and return to the sofa next to her. "Anyway, are you seriously telling me that if it were you in a hospital bed, Sam would hold off on a budding relationship with a pretty doctor?"

CJ frowned. "A female doctor or a male one?"

Carol repeated her question. "Well, do you?"

CJ looked up at Carol and smiled sadly. "Yes, I do, I think that's exactly what he would do."

Toby walked as slowly as he could along the corridor. He had spent the last day and night thinking of nothing but what he had said to Sam. He had made enormous blunders in statements and speeches, leaked comments that had caused untold trouble but never had he wanted to take back words as much as wanted to take back what he had said to Sam. Spending the night with Sam and having it brought home to him again just how sick he was, made Toby realise that he had no right to demand anything of him.

It was early and Toby saw a nurse checking a chart and a cart's contents and knew that the drugs trolley was about to do the rounds. He decided to wait a while longer. It had been hard enough summoning the courage to come here without being interrupted so that Sam could take his various meds.

He grabbed a cup of water from the cooler and sat in the chair opposite Sam's room. Nodding at the agent, he took a slow slip and went through what he planned to say.

Finally, although too soon for Toby's liking, the trolley was wheeled into and then out of Sam's room. Toby finished his water, threw the cup away and walked briskly towards the room. Sam was sitting up when Toby entered, the pillows puffed up behind him making him look tiny and in danger of being engulfed by them.

Sam looked up and smiled. He could remember Toby's last visit and was glad to see him again. He knew he wanted to say something to him to make him feel better about something but couldn't quite remember what. He watched as Toby paused before sitting down by the bed.

"Sam, I wish I'd said this yesterday but-" Toby stopped mid-sentence. "How are you feeling?"

Sam shrugged slightly. "Okay, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Sam, fine. I-" Toby laughed nervously and ran a hand over his face. "I'm not fine, actually. I feel terrible. The other day -" Toby paused, he wanted to say what he had to say as quickly as possible but at the same time he was very aware that Sam found it difficult to follow what was being said to him. "Do you remember the other day when I came to see you and we talked about you getting better?" Sam nodded slowly forming a frown as he tried hard to concentrate on what he was sure was something very important. "I was upset, Sam and I said some things…I told you… I was angry, Sam, not with you but with the situation and I told you to fight and I'm sorry that I-" Toby stopped and took a deep breath. It was hotter than usual in the room and he pulled at his collar to loosen it. He looked back at Sam who was waiting for him to continue. He looked away again before continuing but reached through the bars and took Sam's hand. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to make you feel that you're letting anyone down or that you have to worry about how your friends and family are feeling." He covered Sam's hand with both of his and leant closer to him. His voice was quiet and it wavered slightly. "If you don't want to fight then don't. I know you're tired and everyday is a struggle. If you want to let go then let go. But know this; you make a difference, to your friends, your family, to the President, to me. You're worth fighting for, Sam. Don't forget that." Toby and Sam stared at each other for a moment then Toby squeezed his hand, stood up quickly and walked out of the room. Sam stared at the spot he had sat for a while longer and his words stayed with him, tumbling around his head for longer still.

Time passed. For Josh it passed agonisingly slowly. Even Donna kept her distance as his mood became unbearable. Toby grew even more withdrawn as the days passed without neither improvement nor a worsening in Sam's condition. CJ was thankful for Richard. He didn't talk about Sam unless she did and when he did it was not as a doctor but as a partner who was becoming increasingly concerned about the stress she was under. The President was angry. The news that Hannity had been convicted of a number of charges that amounted to a lengthy jail sentence did little to pacify him. Leo, as usual, was the glue. He made allowances but he also made it very clear that they were here to do a job and if anyone thought they were unable to do it at the moment they should say so. CJ, Toby and Josh were all glad to be at work. At least at work they could try to forget what was going on.

It was during Sam's sixth week in hospital, early one morning that Charlie made his way along the corridor and towards Sam's room. He hadn't been able to visit Sam as much as the others but he had talked to the doctors and nurses everyday in order to report back to the President.

Charlie entered the room, carefully holding the package in his arms which he placed on a chair by the side of the bed. "Hey, man."

Sam's eyes opened and smiled on seeing Charlie. "Hey, you."

Having placed the parcel on the chair, Charlie crouched down beside the bed.

"Get a chair," Sam said looking around for another chair.

"No, I'm good. I can only stay a while. The President's giving a speech in New York later so I need to get back pretty soon."

Sam nodded and tried to think of something to say. He was grateful Charlie had come but he found it hard to talk to his visitors. He had nothing to tell them and no interest in the West Wing, so he relied on them to keep up the conversation or read to him as Josh and Toby so often did.

"The President said to tell you that you're in his thoughts and Mrs Bartlet sends her love." Sam smiled on hearing that and nodded slowly. "I've brought something with me. It's a gift from the President. He had me looking in every store in DC for this. In the end I found it online." Charlie started to open the box. "As usual he knew exactly what he wanted it just hadn't occurred to him to check to see if the thing he wanted actually existed!" He lifted a wooden box out of its cardboard container and placed it carefully on the end of Sam's bed. "Let's get this down for a while," he said as he lowered the bedrail and moved the box closer to Sam. Looking down at it he nodded to indicate that Sam could open it.

Sam's hand slowly moved over the shining mahogany. His fingers traced over the brass inscription on the front of the case and he looked up at Charlie who nodded and smiled. Sam flicked the latch up and pushed the lid away. He tried to lift himself higher up the bed but Charlie stepped up immediately and held him forward while he rearranged the pillows behind him. "Thanks," Sam said before pulling the box towards him. Now that he could see its contents a smile lit his face and he sat and stared at it for a while before reaching in and taking out one of the pieces. It was a pawn. Sam held it up and looked up at Charlie. "Lewis Chessmen."

Charlie shook his head. "It's a sad thing when a dude like me knows enough about chess sets to be able to tell you an in-depth history of the Lewis Chessmen."

Charlie reached into his pocket and held out an envelope. Sam's confused state had been made worse by increasing lapses in his short and medium term memory. Dr Keel hadn't noticed at first as Sam was so rarely lucid for long enough for him to gauge his memory of recent events. There was nothing wrong with Sam's long-term memory though and he recognised the president's script immediately. He took the envelope and placed it on his lap. Charlie placed the set on a table by the window and then raised the bedrail. "Maybe it can be set up over there," he said pointing to the table. "You can tell Toby and Josh your moves and then I'll tell them the President's."

Sam nodded again. "Yeah, okay. Hope Chicago goes okay."

Charlie walked closer to the bed and took Sam's hand in a firm grip. He was about to correct him that it was New York but stopped himself. He didn't say anything. He simply tapped his chest with his fist and left the room.

For the rest of the afternoon, Sam looked alternately at the letter on his bedside table and the box on the table. He was waiting for Josh to come. Josh usually came at seven on weeknights and read from the Post, concentrating mainly on the sports pages. Tonight Sam wanted him to read Bartlet's letter to him.

He had no idea of the time that passed while he waited for Josh. He knew that his mother had spent some time with him and asked more than once what the box was. She'd gone to lift it off the table but Sam had stopped her and told her to leave it. His father had been too. He had made no attempt to move the box but had walked past it a few times pretending not to peer into it. Eventually Sam had told him to sit down. "Chess set," he had informed his father.

"Ah, who's it from?"

"President."

"Of course! Who else?" He grinned at Sam and smoothed some hair away from his forehead. "So, the old Pres is a chess man, eh?"

Sam rolled his eyes and started to tell his dad there was no way on earth he was going to get to play chess with the President but a coughing fit stopped him and by the time it was over he didn't even remember that they had been talking let alone what they had been talking about.

Afternoon turned into early evening, another round of meds, a talk with a nurse and an assessment by a doctor who had asked him question after question about what day it was and where he worked and what his name was and what day it was and where he worked and who was the President of the United States- that one had made Sam smile. The next question was who has visited you today and he stopped smiling. He didn't have a clue.

Josh had had a bad day. His day had been made worse by his mood which had led to him snapping at Donna, shouting at Toby and hiding from CJ. He took the stairs instead of the elevator to the floor Sam was on and by the time he had walked up the three flights, he had altered his demeanour by comforting himself with the knowledge that no matter how bad his day had been, Sam's would have been a whole lot worse.

On entering Sam's room he wondered if Sam's day had been worse after all. Sam sat in bed watching the door and when he saw Josh he looked pleased to see him. Recently when Josh had visited he had made it to the bed before Sam even looked at him. Josh smiled and pulled up a chair then reached in his bag for the Post but Sam stopped him and held up the envelope.

"No, read this."