A/N: I forgot to mention that, while the series originally takes place in the late 90s/early 2000s, I'm pulling them forward to today. Expect to see more of today's problems, discussions, and technology in this story. I also shifted information around to make Sam younger.
Chapter Two
Wednesday, January 28
". . . looking forward to meeting with the French president next month here at the White House," CJ concluded. "An event which, I'm sure, promises to be very exciting. Have we got any additional questions?"
The press room exploded into a wall of sound, every reporter in the room raising their hand and calling CJ's name. CJ nodded at a man sitting halfway towards the back. "Greg?"
Greg Brock, the reporter from the New York Times, nodded back. "CJ, I've got two sources telling me that the White House is looking into reopening S.286. How accurate is this information?"
"Fairly accurate, I'd say," CJ replied. "I'll have more specifics for you about S.286 during the midday briefing."
The noise swelled again, but another voice cut through the din. "CJ, S.286 has been resurrected on three separate occasions by then-senator John Hoynes. Does the White House have a comment on how they plan to succeed where Vice President Hoynes has failed?"
CJ kept her deadpan expression in place as she looked at the reporter who had spoken. "Why yes, Chris, the White House does have a comment on how we plan to move 286 to the floor. And I plan on making that comment at the midday briefing." She turned her attention to the rest of the room. "That's it for now, folks. Same bat channel later today. See you then."
Collecting her briefing notes, CJ ignored the reporters' calls for her attention as she strode through the briefing room towards the exit.
Toby fell into step beside her. "Good briefing."
"Know what would be better?" CJ asked as they navigated their way towards the communications bullpen. "Actually having that comment on 286 for the midday briefing."
"Sam's finishing up the draft as we speak," Toby assured her. "Do you have time to go over it with us?"
"For you?" CJ said. "I have all the time in the world."
As they passed Sam's office, Toby rapped on the window and beckoned for Sam to join them. Sam scrambled for his laptop and notepad, hurrying to join them next door in Toby's office.
"You got the thing?" Toby asked him as he claimed a spot on the sofa beside CJ.
Sam passed Toby his notepad. "It's all set; just need to send it to print."
"Can you give me the background on 286 so that when I'm asked questions, I'll actually understand what I'm saying?" CJ asked Sam.
Sam nodded as Toby sat behind his desk, his eyes scanning the words on Sam's notepad. "So . . . Hoynes has been an advocate for opportunities for technological advancement in rural areas for pretty much all of his political career. He also believes in federal government regulations funding those kinds of things. About fifteen years ago, he authored a bill that was designed to supply computers and internet access to low-income schools across the country whose student populations met certain criteria."
"And we're changing 'computers' to 'devices'," CJ confirmed.
"Using 'computers' limits the scope of what can be used," Sam explained. "If we write 'computers', then computers are all that can be purchased using money from this project. 'Devices' allows for flexibility; at the time, it was pretty much computers and ebooks, which some districts were using. Now that definition can extend to tablets, Chromebooks, iPods, and so on."
"Got it," CJ said, nodding as she jotted down notes.
"So once Hoynes introduced 286, the Rules Committee sent it to Appropriations," Sam continued. "It bounced around a couple subcommittees for weeks, but it never made it past legislative hearings, and got buried."
"Okay," CJ said. "Chris said that Hoynes got it to committee three times."
Sam nodded. "He did, but 286 has actually been brought out five times."
"Five times?" CJ echoed.
"Which suggests that either the bill has some serious merit, or Hoynes doesn't know when to quit," Toby spoke up, his eyes never leaving Sam's notepad.
"Given what I know so far, it sounds like it might be both," CJ commented. "So what happened next?"
Sam checked the notes on his computer. "About a year later, Hoynes brought 286 out and sent it back to the Rules Committee. This time it made it past the legislative hearings and into mark-ups, but Hoynes refused to accept most of the changes, and it stalled again."
"Did he expect 286 to make it all the way through both houses without some changes?" CJ asked. "Even I know that doesn't happen."
"Apparently, Hoynes was amenable to some changes- eligibility criteria, application processes, types of computers- but any move to take out major parts of the bill and he shut it down," Sam replied. "That's why it failed the other three times; no matter which house it starts in or what committee it gets assigned to, if they make major alterations to the bill, Hoynes pulls his support and it fails."
"So he'd rather tank his own bill than get even a portion of it passed?" CJ asked.
Sam shrugged. "Pretty much."
"If that's true, then won't Hoynes try and block us from getting 286 to the floor for a vote?" CJ asked.
"He might," Toby said. He tossed Sam his notepad, who plucked it out of the air easily. "A lot's changed in ten years, though. We've got a strong sponsor in the House and Josh wrangling support from various congressmen. He can try to block it, but he won't get very far."
CJ shook her head. "I think you're underestimating Hoynes, but what do I know?"
Sam privately agreed with CJ, but knew better than to voice that thought. Instead, he asked, "Hoynes worked as a senator for a lot of years. Do you think we'll be able to garner enough support to outweigh his connections?"
A knock on Toby's door drew their attention. Josh hovered in the doorway, looking around at them. "What are you all up to?"
"A slumber party," Toby snarked. "We just finished telling ghost stories and were just about to braid Sam's hair. You're just in time."
CJ snorted in amusement. "Sam was just filling me in on 286."
Josh moved fully into the office and closed the door behind him. Leaning back against the door, he folded his arms. "Well, we've got Congressman Wylie on board to sponsor the bill for us in the House. She's getting it back on the agenda today with our amendments. With a little luck, we'll start the legislative hearings by the end of this week."
"Has anyone heard how Leo's meeting with Hoynes went yesterday?" CJ asked.
"Yeah," Josh answered. "Hoynes wasn't very happy with Leo, which really isn't a big surprise. Hoynes never liked compromising on 286."
"I wonder why," Sam said. "What makes this bill different from the other ones he's authored?"
Josh shrugged. "Who knows? As far as I know, he's never mentioned why to anyone. That's pretty typical, though; Hoynes can be the most stubborn jackass you've ever met."
Toby raised an eyebrow at him.
Josh frowned. "What?"
CJ and Sam exchanged amused grins before quickly looking away from each other.
"Anyway," Josh continued, turning to Sam, "I actually stopped by to ask Sam about that meeting with Winters."
"Which, by the way, I still can't get over how you never told us about being related to him," CJ said pointedly to Sam.
Sam's eyes widened. "You've never told me about your extended family!" he protested.
"None of my extended family control the direction of congressional spending for this country," CJ said.
Sam looked at Toby and Josh for help. Toby's expression was expectant, and Josh's held far too much amusement to be of any help.
"There's really not much to tell," Sam insisted. "He's my mom's older brother. He's pretty strict; worked as a lawyer out in LA before running for Congress. My mom took me to visit him a lot when I was growing up, but he wasn't exactly the doting uncle type."
"But he's completely willing to help out his favorite nephew and his favorite nephew's best friend," Josh added.
Sam frowned. "I'm his only nephew."
Josh shrugged. "Pretty sure that makes you his favorite by default. Are we on for the meeting?"
"He had an opening on his schedule today right after lunch in his office," Sam confirmed. "I feel I should warn you though; my being related to him offers no guarantees for his support, and he does nothing for free."
"Not even for family?" CJ asked.
"Especially not for family," Sam said. "My uncle didn't come by his reputation by accident."
"Hey, I can work with that," Josh said. "Just show me a door and I'll find my way through. Listen; I've got some calls I need to go and make; do you want to meet up for lunch and head over to his office right after?"
"Sounds good," Sam agreed.
Josh flashed him a bright smile and, with a wave to everyone, left to make his calls.
CJ rose to her feet. "All right, mi amor; I'm going to go and finish reading up on the information on 286 before the midday briefing. See you later."
"Bye, CJ," Sam replied.
"You got some time before lunch?" Toby asked as the door clicked shut behind CJ. "We've got time with the president this afternoon and I'd like to finalize an outline for the administration goals speech before then."
Sam nodded and flipped to an empty page on his notepad. "I was thinking . . ."
Congressman Christopher Winters had spent a lifetime establishing a reputation as a powerful, influential, and intimidating man, and his office was a perfect reflection of that persona. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one wall, packed full of tomes about politics, law, and history. Another wall was filled with awards and pictures of Winters shaking hands and smiling with famous faces. Sam hadn't had the opportunity to visit his uncle's office often, but to him it hadn't seemed to change in the last several years.
Unbidden, the memory of his last visit flashed across his eyes, and he winced at the remembered pain that went with it.
Josh straightening his suit jacket beside him jolted him back to the present. Sam focused on the sight of his uncle rounding his solid oak desk to greet them.
"Samuel," Winters said, stretching a hand forward. "It's been a few years. I think the last time I saw you, you were still a congressional aide."
Sam shook his uncle's hand. "Yes, sir. It's good to see you again." He released Winters' hand and gestured to Josh. "You remember my friend, Josh Lyman?"
"Of course," Winters replied, shaking Josh's hand.
"Thank you for allowing us to meet with you today, sir," Josh said.
Winters gestured to the plush armchairs before his desk, inviting them to sit. "It's been quite some time since I last saw my nephew. Now that he's going to be based in DC for at least the next four years, I expect I'll see more of him." He moved to sit behind his desk as Josh and Sam took their seats. "Congratulations, by the way, on winning the election."
"Thank you, sir," Josh replied. "You know, Sam's been doing great work with our staff. His writing has been inspired; he wrote a lot of President Bartler's stump speeches, you know."
Sam felt a blush infuse his cheeks at the praise. He appreciated what Josh was trying to do, but he also knew that the effort was wasted.
Winters offered them a tight smile. "Yes, well. Let's not beat around the bush. You're here for my help on S.286."
Josh's jaw dropped open. He turned to Sam, who shrugged helplessly and shook his head.
"How, uh . . . how do you know that, sir?" Josh asked.
Winters' smile transformed into a smirk. "I have been around the block a few times," he replied. "I saw the White House press briefings; heard the talk in the halls out here- it wasn't all that difficult to put together. You should know, however, that it's never made it out of subcommittee."
Josh nodded, recovering quickly from his surprise. "We know, sir, but we've taken care of that."
One of Winters' eyebrows lifted. "Oh?"
"One of 286's biggest flaws has been the potential expense, to either Congress or the taxpayers," Josh explained. "We intend to fix that by moving forward with supplying devices and leaving internet access for another bill. I've already spoken to several congressmen about the changes, and so far the feedback has been favorable."
"And John Hoynes, as the original author, is okay with those changes?" Winters asked with no small amount of skepticism.
Josh flashed Winters a grin. "Why wouldn't he be?"
Winters tilted his head slightly to one side, his eyes studying Josh carefully. "I was under the impression that you worked out of his office when he was still here."
"Yes, sir," Josh confirmed. "I was."
"Hmm." Winters leaned back in his chair, templing his hands and tapping his fingers against his mouth. "Do you recall what happened when Senator Hawkins from Kansas tried to put 286 back on the agenda?"
Sam straightened in his chair. "Senator Hawkins modified 286 to supply a one-to-one initiative for sixth through twelfth grades in Kansas. But didn't that get shut down before it even made it out of the Rules Committee?"
Winters nodded at his nephew and turned back to Josh. "Hoynes may not have ever gotten enough votes to get 286 to the floor, but he does have enough to stop it from ever getting there, too. If you don't have Hoynes' support, then you don't have a bill."
Josh waved the warning aside. "That's not going to be an issue this time," he said confidently. "We're all on the same team now."
Winters lifted a shoulder. "If you say so."
Josh leaned forward. "The reason we wanted to speak with you is, when the bill gets to Appropriations, it will need serious backing to send it to the floor. We'd like your help with that."
"I'm sure you would." Winters' eyes cut over to Sam, who couldn't quite hide the cringe at the look his uncle was giving him. Looking back to Josh, Winters continued, "Most people do."
Josh cleared his throat. "You see, you control which bill gets priority when it gets to your committee. We would appreciate your support in making that happen."
Sam's heartbeat was pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out the conversation. A conversation eerily similar to the one he'd witnessed his uncle having with Congressman Sanders when he'd been an aide in Sanders' office. Sam fought back the sudden urge to drag Josh out of the room and apologize for taking up Winter's time, sending up a fervent prayer to whoever was listening that everything would be fine.
"Support, well . . . support is a two-way street," Winters was saying to Josh. "If I'm going to devote time in my committee to a bill like S.286, then I'm going to need something in return."
"What did you have in mind?" Josh asked.
"A lot of bills and resolutions pass through my committee; good bills," Winters said. "Bills that don't often stand a chance. Presidential backing on one or two of them will give them substantial weight and would be welcome."
Josh glanced at Sam. "We may be able to help you with that. It would depend on the bills themselves, of course."
"Of course." Winters sat up straighter in his chair, bracing his elbows on his desk. "And I would be more than happy to explain them to the president myself."
Josh exchanged another look with Sam. "You . . . want a meeting with the president?"
Winters shrugged nonchalantly, but Sam was far from fooled. "It would help to secure White House support on these bills."
"President Bartlet is a busy man-," Josh began.
"So it might not be right away," Sam cut in quickly, leaning forward. He ignored Josh's confused look, focused on concluding their meeting on a good note. "We'll bring up your request with President Bartlet."
"You do that," Winters replied. He stood, bringing Sam and Josh to their feet. "Do be sure to let my assistant know when you're ready to set something up."
"Thank you for your time, Congressman," Josh said as they were ushered towards the door.
"Not at all," Winters replied pleasantly. "It's always good to see my nephew and his friends. Speaking of which . . ."
The relief at the promise of escape died a bitter death in Sam's stomach when he felt Winters grab his arm in a vise-like grip, stopping him in his tracks.
"I'd like a few extra minutes with my nephew if you don't mind," Winters said to Josh. "It's been awhile, like I said, and I'd like to catch up. We won't be long."
Sam swallowed around a lump of panic rising in his throat. Though Winters' words were innocuous enough, his tone and his grip were red flags, warning Sam of his uncle's anger.
Josh glanced between Sam and Winters, oblivious to his best friend's distress. "Ah . . . of course," he replied. He turned to Sam. "I'll just wait for you out in the lobby."
The door closed between them with an earth-shaking sense of finality.
Winters' grip on Sam's arm tightened, causing Sam to wince. "Samuel. It's been awhile since I last saw you."
"Y-Yes, sir," Sam replied.
"Too long, evidently, if you don't remember what happened the last time you tried to abuse your political connections to manipulate me," Winters continued.
The bland tone was worse than the yelling, akin to a simmering volcano just gathering energy before a violent eruption.
"B-But I . . . m-mom called me!" Sam stuttered. "She said you w-wanted to see me!"
Winters' grip tightened further, his fingers digging painfully into Sam's arm as he shook the younger man fiercely to quiet him. Sam bit his tongue to keep from crying out, his arm beginning to tingle from lack of circulation.
"I don't appreciate you using our relationship for your gain," Winters growled. "Not even if it's for the president, and certainly not for a bill that has no chance of seeing the light of day."
"I'm not-," Sam tried.
Winters shook him again, hard enough to make his teeth rattle. "Now, you're going to do something for me. You get me that meeting with Bartlet, or I'll remind you what happened the last time you let someone use you to curry favors with me."
He abruptly shoved Sam against the door as he released him. Sam immediately straightened, putting his back to the door.
"Get going," Winters ordered, retreating back to his desk. "You wouldn't want to keep your friend waiting."
"Y-Yes, sire," Sam mumbled. He fumbled for the doorknob. "S-sorry, sir."
Slipping into the outer office, Sam closed the door with a solid click. He avoided the assistant's gaze, ducking his head and striding briskly into the hall.
His arm was tingling furiously as blood rushed back through it. Sam clenched and unclenched his fist, hoping to speed up the process as he headed towards the lobby.
As promised, Josh was waiting for Sam, but he wasn't alone. John Hoynes' lanky frame was squared off against Josh's own rigid posture. Though the expressions on both men's faces looked mild enough from an outsider's perspective, Sam was well-versed in recognizing the tension radiating from both. He moved silently to join them.
". . . this building for a lot of years," Hoynes was saying.
"And you just happened to decide to visit those friends after Leo talked to you about 286?" Josh said, not moving to acknowledge Sam's arrival.
Hoynes' blue eyes shifted from Josh to Sam, then did a double take. His brows drew together, partly in concern. "You okay there, Seaborn?"
Sam's eyes widened in surprise at the unusually perceptive question. "Yes, sir, thank you," he replied, shoving any lingering distress as deep into the back of his mind as he could. "I'm fine."
Hoynes' expression told Sam that he was unconvinced at the claim, but he was relieved when Hoynes elected to let the statement stand. The Vice President returned his attention to Josh.
"I just happened to decide to visit those friends when a free block of time came up in my schedule," Hoynes told him. "Time that is quickly running out, so if you'll excuse me?"
Hoynes strode past them and deeper into the building, shadowed by his now ever-present Secret Service detail. He had barely vanished out of sight when Josh exploded.
"Can you believe him?" he demanded.
Sam frowned. "What's wrong?"
Josh spun on his heel and stormed out of the Capitol building, unmindful of the looks he was drawing. Sam hurried to catch up.
"Can't believe he's trying to pull one over on us!" Josh ranted. "Just here to 'visit friends'? Yeah, right!"
"So?" Sam asked. "He was a senator here for two terms. And in the House before that. I'd imagine he still has lots of friends on the Hill."
Josh scowled. "Yeah, the same 'friends' he probably visited the last time 286 was on the agenda. He's here to make sure his 'friends' block the bill."
"Josh, you're being paranoid," Sam said. "Why would he do that?"
"You don't know Hoynes, Sam," Josh insisted. "I do; I worked for him, remember? I know how he operates. He might advocate for the betterment of underprivileged populations, but he's not above resorting to sneaky tactics to get his way."
"I'm sure you're exaggerating, Josh," Sam replied. "He can't be that bad. The president and Leo wouldn't have asked him to run on the ticket if he was."
"The devil you know is better than the devil you don't," Josh said. "Don't be so naïve; Hoynes has an angle. You mark my words, Sam; he's going to do everything in his power to block 286 from reaching the floor unless we keep it the way he wrote it."
Josh's warning continued to ring in Sam's ears hours after it had been given. He knew Josh was gung-ho in making 286 happen for no other reason than because Leo and President Bartlet asked for it, but the fact that Hoynes was the one who might possibly prevent it from happening seemed to ratchet Josh's competitive streak to a whole new level. Josh was incredibly good at his job, but Sam worried that his friend would let his zeal get the best of him and that he'd eventually cross a line he wouldn't be able to come back from.
"Sam!"
Sam gave a start, his head snapping over to where Toby and Bartlet were sitting. Both men were watching him with expectant looks on their faces. Sam flushed in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said to Bartlet. "Could you please repeat the question?"
A twinkle in Bartlet's eyes belied his amusement. "Are we keeping you from something, Sam?"
Toby snorted before Sam could answer. "From running half the West Wing single-handedly, apparently."
Bartlet frowned lightly at Toby. "I thought that was my job?"
"It is, sir," Sam stated, tossing an irate glare at Toby. "Toby just thinks he's being funny."
Toby was wholly unimpressed by Sam's ire. "I never claimed I was funny. When have I ever said I was funny?"
"We seem to have meandered away from the point," Bartlet stated. He passed back a manila folder to Toby. "Everything on the list looks solid to me except the part on welfare. Get some meetings going on that and bring me back some more statistics, then get back to me before moving on that."
Sam nodded, flipping to the next page in his notepad. "I can get started on that right away."
"No, I'll get started on that right away," Toby corrected. "I'm also taking back the sections on economic reform, unemployment, and health care too."
"But the interviews-?" Sam protested.
"Are all done," Toby finished. "We did the last ones this afternoon. CJ's also gotten the press room settled, so I can take back some of the workload. You did a good job holding down the fort in the meantime. Let's try to get these tasks a bit more spread out."
Words failed Sam at Toby's abrupt praise. He nodded, smiling shyly.
A brief knock on the door heralded Mrs. Landingham's entrance into the Oval Office. "Excuse me, Mr. President, but Agent Butterfield would like to see you if you have a few moments."
"And do I have a few moments, Mrs. Landingham?" Bartlet rebutted as he rose to his feet.
"You have a meeting with Mr. McGarry, but Agent Butterfield says he can join you for this," Mrs. Landingham replied briskly.
Bartlet nodded as Mrs. Landingham retreated back to the outer office. "Well, there you have it. Good work Toby, Sam; I'll see you two later."
"Thank you."
"Thanks, Mr. President."
Bartlet waved them out of the Oval Office and moved to greet Ron Butterfield as the agent entered carrying a thick blue folder in one hand. "Ron, good to see you."
"You too, Mr. President." Butterfield accepted the handshake. "Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."
Bartlet gestured for Butterfield to take a seat on the couch, then claimed his usual chair. "My wife only gave me three rules when I became the president. Rule number two was to always do whatever the Secret Service tells me to do."
Butterfield let out a huff of laughter. "Well, I appreciate that. If I may ask, sir; what's rule number one?"
Bartlet grinned. "Always do whatever she tells me to do."
Butterfield chuckled with Bartlet as Leo knocked and entered the room from his own office next door.
"I'm sorry, Mr. President," Leo said. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
"Not at all, Leo," Bartlet replied, waving him over. "Ron here says he has something important to tell us."
Butterfield set his folder on the coffee table between the three of them as Leo claimed a seat on the couch opposite him. "Mr. President, a situation has come up that you need to be made aware of."
"Is there a threat to the president?" Leo asked, concerned.
"Nothing like that," Butterfield assured them. "As you know, the Secret Service runs extensive background checks on the president, vice president, their immediate family members, and all staff as soon as the election closes in November. We start with immediate background checks, but then we work with the FBI to dig deeper. During the course of this process, an anomaly popped up in Mr. Seaborn's file."
"Sam's file?" Bartlet echoed, incredulous. "Are you sure? I mean, I can see Toby's file having anomalies. Maybe even CJ or Josh. But Sam?"
Butterfield nodded. "It's not something that would have been picked up in a standard search, but we're a bit more thorough than most."
"Does this have anything to do with why the Secret Service has been following Sam around the last several weeks?" Leo asked.
Bartlet and Butterfield turned to stare at him in surprise.
Leo didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. "Last time I checked, the Secret Service didn't set up camp in the communications bullpen. And I happened to notice that a couple agents always seemed to be wherever Sam was, even before the transition when we were based out of the EEOB."
Butterfield accepted the explanation with a nod, but Bartlet was still stunned. "And you never bothered to say anything to anyone?"
"If it was a major concern, then the Secret Service would have pulled Sam's credentials before now and we would have been told when this had come up," Leo reasoned. He looked over at Butterfield. "I take it that, whatever it is, you've got something concrete now?"
"I do," Butterfield confirmed. "When our team ran the background on Sam, one of the guys from the FBI found an anomaly in Sam's birth certificate; an anomaly that resembled a signature of a man who had been convicted in Arizona of identity theft and fraud. This man is notorious on the West Coast for forging birth certificates, social security cards, IDs, and so on."
"Surely you don't suspect Sam of plotting an assassination when he was an infant," Bartlet said, half-joking. "Thirty-five years is a long time to wait for the opportunity."
"Twenty-six years," Butterfield corrected.
Bartlet frowned. "What?"
"Sam is twenty-six," Butterfield told him. "Not thirty-five."
Bartlet glanced over at Leo in shock. "Did you know that?"
Leo ignored the question. "So your guy thinks that Sam's birth certificate is forged?" he asked Butterfield. "I can assure you that Sam knows nothing about that."
"I know," Butterfield replied. "I pulled a couple of my guys off of security checks to work with an FBI team to follow up on the anomaly. The forger has been serving time, so they went to interview him. He confirmed Sam's birth certificate as one of his documents, but he didn't remember who he sold it to. That's when the team sent a sample of Sam's DNA to Missing Persons to be tested against their database."
"What did they find?" Leo asked.
"It came back to a match for a very old cold case," Butterfield answered. "A very high profile, sensitive one, so they requested for a mitochondrial DNA search to make sure."
"A mitochondrial DNA search?" Bartlet repeated.
Butterfield nodded. "Mitochondrial DNA can be used to trace DNA matches back through the mother's line. It doesn't change when passed on to the child, so the results are more accurate."
Bartlet began to shake his head. "So Sam's a missing person? How is that even possible?"
"Who did he come back as a match to?" Leo asked.
Butterfield opened the folder on the coffee table and lifted the top sheet of paper. "Charlie Hoynes," he answered, holding the paper out.
Leo and Bartlet stared at Butterfield in shock for several long moments.
"You mean to tell me that you think Sam is the missing baby of the current Vice President?" Bartlet demanded.
Leo took the paper Butterfield was holding out and scanned its contents.
"No sir," Butterfield said. "I don't think he is. I know." He passed Bartlet the rest of the folder. "The mitochondrial DNA test came back today, and it confirmed the first test. Sam is John and Suzanne Hoynes' son."
Bartlet flipped through the folder, looking through the reports and evidence that had been collected.
Leo passed him the paper with the mitochondrial DNA test results and turned back to Butterfield. "How is this even possible?"
"As soon as the first DNA test results came back, the team immediately started investigating Sam's early life," Butterfield said. "So far they've been able to confirm that Chelsea Seaborn was here in DC visiting her brother when Charlie was abducted. They've also managed to confirm that she was pregnant when she left California, but that she had Sam with her when she returned. However, at this stage, the team can't move forward without officially reopening the case. Once that happens, it's only a matter of time before word gets out."
"Have you told anyone else yet?" Bartlet asked as he passed the folder to Leo.
"No, sir, not yet," Butterfield replied.
Leo rubbed his forehead wearily, scanning the reports in the folder. "Oh God."
"Wait." Bartlet held up a finger, then pointed at the folder. "That says the first DNA test came back a month ago. You knew that Sam was Charlie a month ago and you haven't told John?"
"I thought it best to have conclusive evidence before approaching him," Butterfield said.
"We need to tell him," Leo stated to the room at large. "Tonight."
"And Sam," Bartlet added. "Sam will need to hear it from us, and not from John tracking him down himself."
"How do you want to do this?" Leo asked.
Bartlet glanced at his watch. "Let's divide and conquer. It's almost time for dinner; I'll have Mrs. Landingham cancel any appointments on my schedule for the rest of the day. You have a better rapport with John; you tell him in your office while I tell Sam in here at the same time. Then we can take them over to the residence for dinner."
"Foisting the dirty work off onto me?" Leo joked.
"Damn straight," Bartlet replied. "It's one of the many perks of my job."
"Fine, but I want Ron in with me," Leo said, nodding at Butterfield. "Sam may or may not believe you, but John's going to demand proof."
"Deal." Bartlet leaned over to one side. "Mrs. Landingham!" he shouted.
Mrs. Landingham opened the door and waited patiently with a slight long-suffering look on her face. "You called, sir?"
"Yes," Bartlet said. "Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day, would you? And have Sam come back for a quick meeting. I also need you to contact the Vice President and have him come to Leo's office right away."
"Yes, sir." Mrs. Landingham backed away, pulling the door shut as she went.
"All right," Bartlet said, clapping his hands together. "Once John is ready, bring him over here."
"Sir, I think you're being a little optimistic about John's reaction," Leo warned. "He's not going to just sit patiently. Once I tell him, I wouldn't be surprised to see a John-shaped hole in the wall between us."
"It'll be fine, Leo," Bartlet said, standing. Leo and Butterfield rose as well. "I'm going to give Abbey a quick call to let her know to expect guests for dinner."
Leo gestured for Butterfield to follow as he moved back towards his office. By the time Bartlet hung up the phone, Mrs. Landingham was announcing Sam's arrival.
Sam stood in the doorway, puzzled at having been asked to return to the Oval Office so soon. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Sam, yes, come in," Bartlet greeted. "Close the door behind you and have a seat."
Sam obeyed, joining the president in the sitting area. He perched on the edge of the couch cushion, his nerves preventing him from relaxing. "Is everything all right, sir?"
"Everything is fine, Sam," Bartlet assured him gently. "However, I just received some news that you need to be brought in on."
Leo led Butterfield into his office and gestured for him to take a seat. "I hope you're ready for this. Charlie is an understandably touchy subject with John. He tends to shut people down and go on the offense anytime someone says Charlie's name."
"My guys have been very thorough throughout this whole investigation," Butterfield stated. "If you're worried about the vice president not believing me-."
"Sometimes it's not about the facts," Leo stated. "Once the cat's out of the bag, I doubt very much that John will be concerned with logic and reason."
"What father would be?" Butterfield asked as a knock sounded on the door.
John Hoynes entered, his steely blue gaze immediately searching out Leo. "Leo. What's so important that the president had to summon me to your office? I swear, if this is about 286-."
Leo held out his hands in a placating manner. "It's not about 286, John. But it is important. Have a seat."
Hoynes finally noticed Butterfield, who had stood upon his entrance. Confusion swept across his face. "What's going on, Leo?" Alarm began to rise. "Oh God . . . Suzanne? The boys?"
"Your family is fine, Mr. Vice President," Butterfield said calmly and firmly.
Leo lightly took Hoynes' elbow and led him to the nearest chair, encouraging him to sit. "John, Agent Butterfield was updating the president and me on his team's progress with the staff's background checks. As it turned out, his team found something."
"That's it?" Hoynes asked. "You got me all worked up over some-."
"John." Leo's tone was low and gentle. "They found Charlie."
Hoynes jerked backwards as if punched. His head swiveled back and forth between Leo and Butterfield, his expression darkening. "That's not funny, Leo."
"That's because I'm not joking, John." Leo held a hand out to Butterfield, who pressed the folder into it. Leo held the folder out to Hoynes. "They found your son."
Hoynes stared mutely at the folder for a moment. He lifted a hand towards it but stopped, his gaze moving to watch the tremors taking it over. He heaved a deep breath and took the folder, but set it, unopened, on his lap. "Are you sure?"
Butterfield took a step closer. "Yes, Mr. Vice President. Both the DNA and mitochondrial DNA tests confirm it. We don't have all of the details yet, but we do know without a doubt that it's Charlie."
Hoynes pressed a hand against his mouth, his watery eyes locked on a distant memory. "It's been almost twenty-seven years . . . he'd be a grown man by now . . ."
The sudden stiffening of his body set both Leo and Butterfield on alert. Hoynes' gaze darted to Leo.
"Wait," he said. "You said they found him doing staff background checks. He works here? With us?"
Butterfield nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Who?" Hoynes demanded. "Who is it?"
"It's Sam Seaborn, John," Leo answered.
Hoynes grew very still, clearly doing his best to recall his every interaction with the young speechwriter. Abruptly, he leapt to his feet and began to pace the length of the office.
Leo and Butterfield watched patiently as Hoynes paced, startling slightly when he suddenly spun around to face Butterfield. "What have you found out about his abduction? Who took him? Did his kidnappers raise him?"
"Sir, my team is still investigating those details," Butterfield answered. "We plan to officially reopen the case soon. Everything we know so far is in that folder."
Hoynes followed Butterfield's gaze to the blue folder gripped tightly in his right hand. Hoynes gave a start of surprise as if he hadn't realized he was still holding it. Lifting it, he flipped it open and began scanning each page hungrily.
"Near as we can figure, Chelsea Seaborn is likely involved," Butterfield continued. "We haven't questioned her just yet; we didn't want to warn anyone and give them time to skip out of the country. As soon as we're done here, I'm authorizing my team to officially, but quietly, reopen the case and pick up the Seaborns for questioning."
Hoynes sank back into his chair, his eyes glued onto a copy of Sam's staff photo in the file. "Once word gets out . . . I need to call Suzanne . . . and the boys . . ." His head snapped up. "Wait! He's going to need a protection detail!"
Butterfield nodded. "As soon as the first DNA test results came back over a month ago, I put a team on him but kept it quiet. They were formally assigned this afternoon as soon as the mitochondrial DNA results came back."
Hoynes nodded absently, his eyes falling back onto Sam's smiling face in the photograph. Fingers lightly traced the image. "Does he think he's adopted? Does he even know the truth?"
"Jed's next door with him," Leo said. "He's breaking the news to Sam right now."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Leo wished he could call them back. Hoynes had frozen at the information, his gaze moving to Leo.
"Right now?" he said. "In the Oval Office? My son's next door right this minute?"
"John, wait-," Leo tried.
Hoynes jumped to his feet, the folder slipping from his hands as he rushed towards the connecting door.
Leo darted into his path. "John, wait. Think about it; if Sam doesn't know, then he just got some very shocking news. He doesn't need you storming in there and scaring him."
The anger blazing in Hoynes' eyes was in sharp contrast to the need on his face. "My son is in there, Leo!" he cried, waving his arm at the door. "You can't ask me to wait! Not after all this time!"
"Just for a few more minutes," Leo promised.
Hoynes pushed past Leo, Leo's protests now falling on deaf ears. Leo swore under his breath and followed after him.
Sam was sitting on the sofa, folded over with his hands clutching at his hair. Bartlet had moved to sit beside him on the sofa and had placed a comforting hand on Sam's back. Upon Hoynes' abrupt entrance, Sam had looked up and immediately jumped to his feet, stumbling a few steps back. His eyes were wide with disbelief, shock, and the faintest touch of fear.
Hoynes himself had frozen in place at his first real glimpse of his son. The two stared in silence at each other, neither one sure of what to say.
From the couch, Bartlet raised his eyebrows at Leo, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. Behind Leo, Butterfield quietly slipped into the room, having recovered the papers from the folder Hoynes had discarded in his zeal to see Sam.
Hoynes finally moved, taking a small step towards Sam. "You have your mother's eyes," he said breathlessly, unable to stop drinking in the sight of his son. "I don't know how I missed that."
Sam flinched at the comparison. He glanced nervously at Bartlet, then back to Hoynes. "I don't know what to say. I'm not sure I even believe this. It's too incredible . . . impossible . . ."
Hoynes took another step. "Charlie-."
Sam stepped back, one hand lifting as if to stop Hoynes. "No," he said adamantly. "No, I . . . I know you think I'm him, but I can't be. I'm Sam."
Bartlet slowly rose to his feet. "Sam."
Leo recognized the stubborn set to Sam's jaw and idly wondered how he'd also missed the signs, as he'd seen a similar look on Hoynes' face before. It wasn't there now, however; instead leo saw a look of such helplessness that prompted Leo to try and do something.
"Why don't we all just have a seat and hear the full story before deciding anything, huh?" he suggested.
Bartlet nodded. "I think that's an excellent idea.
All eyes turned to Sam, waiting to see what he would decide. After meeting each gaze in turn, he nodded mutely.
Bartlet gently took Sam's arm and guided him back to the sofa. Hoynes immediately claimed a spot beside him, but was careful not to touch him. Bartlet sat on Sam's other side, leaving the opposite sofa for Leo and Butterfield.
"Good," Leo said. "Okay. Sam; what have you heard about Charlie Hoynes?"
Sam locked his gaze on Leo, seemingly unable to even look at Hoynes. Hoynes, in contrast, couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Sam.
"I know he was kidnapped from DC when he was a few weeks old," Sam replied. "I remember hearing about one or two people claiming to be him, but that DNA ruled them out."
Hoynes winced at his own memories of those imposters, then scowled. "Opportunists," he spat.
Sam found the courage to turn to him. "How can you be so sure I'm him, though? DNA tests aren't always conclusive. There can be false matches, or similar characteristics . . . mistakes have been known to happen in labs."
Butterfield cleared his throat. "Sam, you are correct. There can be false positives and things like that. That's why my team ran two tests before we brought it to you. Do you know what a mitochondrial DNA test is?"
Sam frowned as he tried to access that memory. "Isn't that . . . doesn't that have to do with the mother?"
"That's right," Butterfield said. "Mitochondrial DNA doesn't change as much as the rest of your DNA when it's passed down to you. It also makes for a more precise matching in these cases." He opened the folder and passed the DNA test results across to Sam. "The mitochondrial DNA test came back a 99.98% match to Suzanne Hoynes. According to this test, you are Charlie Hoynes."
Sam stared down at the results in his hands, silently struggling in the face of evidence.
Bartlet looked over Sam's bent head at Hoynes. "John," he said quietly. "Maybe you could fill in the blanks of what happened for Sam?"
Sam turned his head to Hoynes at the suggestion. Meeting the eyes of his long-lost son, Hoynes nodded and took a deep breath as he braced himself to revisit one of the worst moments in his life.
"I was early in my first term to Congress," he began. "Suzanne was still on maternity leave from work, and the boys were going to be on spring break, so we decided to have them come up and stay with me. We were going to do the usual tourist thing; Suzanne loved visiting DC and she wanted to share it with our boys."
The room had grown very still as Hoynes spoke. No one wanted to break the spell, and the fathers in the room grieved for the pain in Hoynes' voice.
"It was a Wednesday," Hoynes continued. "Suzanne wanted to visit the National Mall. Jamie wanted to see the planes at the Air and Space Museum, and Jake was so excited to see the dinosaurs at the Natural History museum. I had a roll call that morning; Suzanne and I decided she would take the boys to the History museum when it opened, then we would meet up in the food court at the Air and Space museum for lunch."
Sam found it impossible to look away as Hoynes revealed the events surrounding his son's abduction. He couldn't quite reconcile the idea that Hoynes was describing something that had happened to him, too, but he also couldn't help the pang of sympathy in his chest.
"They were on their way to the Air and Space museum," Hoynes said. "There were a lot of tourists around . . . it got crowded quickly. Someone knocked into Jamie and he fell and started to cry. He was only three at the time . . . Suzanne stopped to help him up. Just for a minute. When she turned back, Charlie was missing from the stroller."
Hoynes wiped a hand down his face. No one commented on the tears glittering in his eyes.
"No one saw anything," he concluded. "There were just too many people. The cops, the FBI . . . the private investigators we hired . . . there were no leads. It was as if he just vanished off of the face of the Earth."
Butterfield's soft tone picked up the thread of the story. "Based on what we've found so far, we think Chelsea Seaborn was pretending to be pregnant- why, we don't know. She likely was nearing the end of her charade and was growing desperate. She could have seen her opportunity with Charlie and took the chance. Hopefully, once my team picks her and her husband up, they'll learn more."
Sam gave Butterfield a startled look. "Wait; you're arresting them?"
"Sam, they kidnapped you," Leo said bluntly.
"You don't know that for sure!" Sam protested. "They could have adopted me from the real kidnappers and didn't even know!"
"Which is why," Butterfield declared firmly before an argument could break out, "they're being picked up for questioning. We aren't making any arrests until we have evidence of their involvement."
"I want to talk to them," Sam stated.
Hoynes stiffened. "Over my dead body."
Sam turned to him, a mulish glint in his eyes. "Sir-."
"No!" An identical look matched Sam's. "If they are responsible for taking you, there is no way I'm giving them the chance to do it again! I don't want you anywhere near them!"
"They're my parents!" Sam argued.
"They are not your parents!" Hoynes countered hotly.
Sam flinched.
"All right," Bartlet intervened, a hand lifted as if to ward off the brewing storm. "There's no use arguing over this now before the Secret Service has even had a chance to talk to them. Besides, right now there are more urgent matters to deal with."
"More urgent than dealing with the people who kidnapped my son?" Hoynes challenged. "What could possibly be more important than that?"
Bartlet fixed him with a stern look. "Telling your wife that you've found your missing child. And your other sons."
Just like that, the fire was doused in Hoynes' temper. His mouth snapped shut in surprise. Beside him, Sam paled in realization that he had other family members to deal with.
Bartlet turned to Butterfield. "Ron, why don't you go ahead and get the ball rolling on the investigation?" he said. "Come and join us in the Residence when you're done."
Butterfield nodded in agreement. He stood and slipped quietly out of the room.
"Leo, are you joining us?" Bartlet asked.
Leo stood as well, shaking his head. "Thank you, but I have a couple more things I need to take care of before getting home to Jenny. Excuse me."
Bartlet bid him farewell, turning to Hoynes and Sam next. "We're going to move this conversation over to the Residence for a little more privacy. I've already told Abbey to expect us for dinner. John; use the phone on my desk to call Suzanne. Have her come and join us."
As Hoynes moved to do just that, Bartlet gave Sam a considering look. "Are you okay?"
Sam shrugged helplessly and shook his head. "I . . . I have no idea . . ."
Bartlet pressed a hand to Sam's shoulder, steadily meeting the younger man's eyes. "It's okay if you're not; on one expects you to be. Hell, I know I wouldn't be. There are some big changes in store for you, and there's just no getting around that. But we're all here for you, every step of the way. You won't have to do this alone."
Sam nodded, eyes shimmering, as Hoynes hung up the phone and rejoined them.
"Suzanne is on her way," he announced. "The Secret Service is bringing her; I had to convince her to wait for them." He shook his head. "She can't believe it . . ."
Bartlet stood, bringing Sam to his feet. "Well then. Let's get over to the Residence before she beats us there."
He turned to leave, Sam right behind him, when Hoynes' quiet call stalled them.
"Wait . . ."
Questioning looks focused on the vice president.
Hoynes shifted from one foot to the other, his expression lost. He took a tentative step forward.
"This has all happened so fast," he stated. "When Suzanne gets here . . . it's going to go faster, and I . . . I just . . . I wanted to . . ."
Something in Hoynes' face clicked in Bartlet, and he smiled in understanding. He nodded encouragingly at him.
Sam was completely at a loss. "Wanted to what?"
After a brief hesitation, Hoynes moved closer. Lifting his arms, he slowly, carefully, drew Sam to him in a hug.
Sam stiffened in surprise, clearly not expecting the move. He stood awkwardly for a moment, then slowly moved to wrap his own arms around Hoynes.
Hoynes closed his eyes, tightening his hold and soaking in the feeling of holding his youngest child for the first time in nearly three decades.
The West Sitting Hall on the second floor of the White House was unexpectedly cozy despite its opulence. The sofa that Bartlet had directed Sam to was in front of a large window whose curtains were presently drawn against the darkening sky. The sofa was flanked by a pair of armchairs, all positioned around a coffee table. More coffee tables and chairs sat nearby, all waiting patiently for occupants. The room itself held a sense of history, all of which went right over Sam's head as his mind continued to churn with his recent revelations.
Hoynes was perched on the armchair nearest Sam, but hadn't spoken much since being brought to the room. Bartlet had taken Abbey into the kitchen, both to fill her in and to give the reunited father and son some privacy, but neither could find the right words to say.
A slight commotion from the stairs drew their attention. New Secret Service agents barely had time to enter before a woman with blond hair and wearing a slightly disheveled dress suit all but sprinted into the room. "John?"
Hoynes stood immediately, intercepting the woman as she made a beeline for them. "Suzanne," he greeted, wrapping an arm around her.
The woman, Suzanne, pressed a hand to Hoynes' chest, her eyes wide and hopeful as they sought his. "Charlie?" she asked. "Is it really him?"
Hoynes drew her into a hug, resting his chin on top of her head. "DNA confirmed it; he's our boy."
Sam slowly stood as Hoynes released Suzanne, guiding her to the chairs. Hoynes gestured to Sam. "You actually met at the Inauguration Ball. Sam Seaborn."
Suzanne walked up to Sam, shaking hands reaching up to cradle his face as her eyes took in every detail. "Charlie?"
"Sam," Sam suddenly blurted out. He winced. "I . . . sorry . . ."
"No, no," Suzanne soothed. "It's okay. Sam. I just . . . I'm so glad we finally found you."
She pulled Sam into a fierce hug. Sam had to lean down awkwardly, and he looked helplessly over Suzanne's shoulder at Hoynes. To Sam's shock, tears had slipped free and left trails down Hoynes' cheeks. Rather than the rescue Sam had been looking for, Hoynes stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his wife and son.
Sam endured the hug for as long as he could, then gently untangled himself.
Suzanne kept one hand wrapped around his arm as though afraid he would vanish from her sight should she let go. "I have so many questions. Where have you been all this time? Are you all right? Did you know about us? Who took care of you?"
Hoynes chuckled, wiping away the evidence of tears from his face. "Suz, take it easy on the boy. He only found out himself tonight. Maybe start with one question at a time?"
Suzanne smiled sheepishly. "Of course. Sorry."
Hoynes squeezed her shoulder. "Why don't we all have a seat?"
Sam sat back down on the sofa, Suzanne beside him. Her hand slipped down his arm to grip Sam's hand. Hoynes perched on the arm of the sofa beside Suzanne, keeping an arm around her.
"Where have you been?" Suzanne asked again, keen to learn about her youngest son.
"Uh, California, mostly," Sam replied. "I went to college at Princeton, then Duke. Law."
Suzanne's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Duke Law? John's a lawyer too, did you know? Did you ever practice?"
"In New York City," Sam answered. "I started at Dewey-Ballantine, then moved over to Gage Whitney before Josh came and recruited me for President Bartlet's campaign."
Pride appeared on Hoynes' face. "Those are both very good firms. And you worked there right out of law school? You must be very good."
Pink spots appeared high on Sam's cheeks.
"And now you're President Bartlet's Deputy Communications Director, if I remember correctly?" Suzanne said. "I've heard that you're a brilliant speechwriter."
The pink spots transformed into a red flush. "That's Toby Ziegler," he replied modestly. "I'm very lucky to be able to learn from him."
Bartlet chose that moment to enter the room, carrying two glasses of wine. Behind him was Abbey, bearing a silver tray with three more glasses.
"Oh, I think you'll find that Sam is also very humble about his own accomplishments," Bartlet announced.
Sam jumped to his feet upon hearing Bartlet, his hand still attached to Suzanne. Bartlet waved Sam back down and handed him one of the glasses he carried. "Let's not stand on ceremony tonight."
Abbey held out the tray as Hoynes and Suzanne each accepted a glass with thanks, then took the remaining glass for herself. Setting the tray on the coffee table, she claimed the armchair next to Hoynes. "I hope you don't mind meeting here; Jed can be a bit of a meddler, but meeting on neutral ground was a good idea."
"I do have those every so often," Bartlet quipped. "Anyway, the chef will bring the food up soon, but I thought it might be good to talk over drinks first. I'm sure everyone has lots of questions."
"And yes," Abbey directed at Suzanne as Bartlet sat down. "Sam is a brilliant speechwriter. We've had many in past campaigns and no one has been able to match Jed's idealism quite like Sam."
Sam's blush returned in full force at the praise.
Suzanne smiled, charmed at Sam's embarrassment. A matching grin on Hoynes' face revealed the same. Taking pity on the young man, Suzanne squeezed Sam's hand.
"So why did you decide to go from being a lawyer to being a political aide?" she asked.
Sam latched onto the question with relief.
The ensuing interrogation wasn't as bad as Sam had feared. Several questions wandered into shaky territory, but Sam managed to deflect them without anyone being the wiser. With each passing moment, he relaxed further. It was easy to push the reality of his situation out of his mind and convince himself that he was simply at another dinner party or informal gathering of coworkers.
About half an hour passed in pleasant discussion when a knock heralded Ron Butterfield's arrival. The lanky man strode purposefully towards them.
"Ron!" Bartlet greeted jovially, waving at him to join them. "Can I get you a drink?"
"No, thank you, Mr. President," Butterfield replied, nodding a greeting to the group.
"So?" Bartlet asked. "How did it go?"
"I dispatched a team from the local FBI office to collect the Seaborns," Butterfield told them. "They found Chelsea at her residence and are transporting her back to their office for questioning. Norman, on the other hand, is out of the country."
"He is?" Sam asked, surprised.
Butterfield lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't know?"
Sam shook his head. "We don't really talk all that much," he admitted. "He's always away on business trips, though. Didn't my mom know where he was?"
Suzanne flinched at the address. Hoynes hugged her, rubbing a hand up and down her arm soothingly.
A stricken look appeared on Sam's face. "I-I mean . . . I'm sorry . . . I didn't . . ."
Hoynes shook his head as Suzanne squeezed his hand in reassurance. "It's all right," she crooned.
"Chelsea told the agents that Norman was in Monaco," Butterfield answered Sam's question. "We're working on confirming that, then we'll look at getting him back stateside. Sam, I need to ask you not to contact either of them without the go ahead by Secret Service. While we currently have Chelsea in custody, we don't want to spook Norman into fleeing to a non-extradition country."
Sam's temper flared at the warning. "You're all acting as if he's guilty! You don't have any proof that he was involved in all of this!"
Hoynes' expression hardened. "We don't have any proof that he's innocent of wrongdoing, either."
"Well, then, I guess it's a good thing this country was founded on the ideals of innocent until proven guilty," Sam snarked. "Last time I checked, the burden fell on the state to prove guilt, not on the accused to prove innocence!"
"Okay," Abbey cut in before Hoynes could retort. "Listen; both of you are too close to this to be objective. Sam; whether or not Norman is involved, he likely has information you need in order to figure out what happened when you were a baby. John; you know Sam is right that there's no evidence of Norman's involvement just yet. Let's not let determination for justice convict a potentially innocent man."
Neither man was happy, but they conceded the argument in the face of Abbey's logic.
"We won't issue arrest warrants until we have definitive proof," Butterfield promised Sam. "But you need to bear in mind that Norman might reveal some truths that you won't like. You need to be prepared for that eventuality."
Sam nodded wordlessly.
Bartlet cleared his throat. "In the meantime, you all need to decide how to handle sharing this news with everyone."
Sam gave a start. "What?"
Puzzled glances were traded. "Sam, your abduction was one of the most notable cases in recent memory," Butterfield told him slowly. "Once the press gets wind of us reopening it, they'll want to know why. We're expecting, and preparing for, a huge media circus."
"Why do we even have to tell anyone?" Sam pressed. "It's no one else's business."
Hoynes glanced over at Bartlet, who shook his head in confusion.
"It's not a matter of us telling anyone," Butterfield said. "Once word gets out, there'll be no stopping it. If we want to stay ahead of the press, we'll need to get out in front of it."
"Which means starting with telling CJ," Bartlet added, leaning forward in his chair.
"But we don't need to do that right now, do we?" A pleading look with panic teasing the edges turned to each person in turn. "We can just keep it to ourselves for now?"
"If that's what you want," Suzanne said.
"Sam?" Abbey said gently. "We can hold the press off a while longer, but don't you want to tell your friends about this?"
Sam turned to her, struggling to put the swirling emotions into some semblance of understanding. "I . . . it's just . . . what if it's all some big mistake? I can't . . ."
Suzanne nearly dropped her wine glass in her haste to set it aside. She gripped Sam's hand in both of hers as Hoynes reached around his wife to grasp Sam's shoulder firmly.
"Sam," Hoynes said firmly. "This isn't a mistake. I know this is a lot to take in, but it's real. The proof is in that DNA test. You're our son."
Sam was saved from responding as several stewards arrived bearing covered trays. Abbey stood, greeting them with a smile and directing them to the kitchen. Once they were on their way, she turned back to Sam.
"Sam, why don't you come with me and help get dinner situated?" she suggested.
"Great idea," Bartlet praised as Sam rose to his feet and gently tugged his hand free of Suzanne. "While you do that, Ron can talk to us about your security detail arrangements."
Sam froze at that. "What?"
Bartlet tilted his head, unsure if Sam was serious. "You Secret Service detail?"
Sam swiveled around to look between Hoynes and Suzanne, Bartlet, and Butterfield. "I don't . . . I really don't think a Secret Service detail is necessary," he stated. "I mean, if no one outside this room knows I'm . . . knows who I am."
"For now," Butterfield pointed out. "We can't guarantee that the information won't be released before we decide, though."
"But-," Sam protested.
"Sam, the only way for you to waive your protection detail is if the president or the vice president order it," Butterfield stated bluntly.
Sam's eyes shifted reflexively to Hoynes, whose expression was immovable. "There is no force on God's green Earth that will convince me," he stated sternly.
Suzanne nudged him. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed," she told him under her breath.
Sam turned to Bartlet. Bartlet, at least, appeared amused by the situation.
"I was actually going to suggest the panic button be included," he said around a grin. "Zoey carries on, and I gotta say, it helps take a load off of my mind."
Sam winced, then turned back to Hoynes. "I really don't think it's necessary," he tried again.
Hoynes softened ever-so-softly at the plaintive tone, but his newly-aroused protective instincts held resolute. "Sam, we're not trying to be unreasonable here. We know that there's an added layer of safety in anonymity. But think of it this way: you just spent the last four or five weeks being followed by a team of agents, and your reaction just now tells me you haven't even noticed them. The detail stays."
Sam spun around in shock, looking at Butterfield. "I- what?"
Butterfield nodded.
A light tug on his hand drew Sam's attention to Suzanne, her deep blue eyes studying him intently.
"Ch-Sam," she said. "You're having your whole world completely turned on its head tonight. It's natural to feel resistance to these changes. We understand that. We just want you to understand that we lost you thirty years ago, and it's been hell. Now we have you back, and it's going to take some time before we stop being terrified about something happening to you. Please. If for no other reason than to give us peace of mind, please let us protect you."
Sam's tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He gave a jerky nod.
"You won't see any disruptions to your schedule," Butterfield told him. "They've been in place since before you moved into the White House, and they know your routines already. The head of your detail is right outside; would you like to meet him now?"
"Yes," Hoynes answered for Sam.
Butterfield lifted his cuff to his mouth. "Agent Price."
Within moments, they were joined by another suit-clad agent. He looked to be only a few years older than Sam with sandy-blond hair and brown eyes that swept the room instinctively as he approached them. Sam thought he looked familiar, but for the life of him, he couldn't say from where.
Hoynes' eyes lifted up and down the man's nearly six-and-a-half foot muscular frame and commanding presence, then flickered over to Sam.
"You didn't notice him following you around?" he asked pointedly.
Sam winced in embarrassment.
Hoynes turned back to the man. "Agent . . . Price? What's your background?"
The agent stood at attention, meeting Hoynes' scrutiny effortlessly. "My name is Elliot Price, Mr. Vice President. I was a Chief Petty Officer in the Navy for a few years, and served as a Navy Seal. I transferred over to the Secret Service after leaving the Navy and have served on protection details for the last six years."
"Agent Price is one of our top agents," Butterfield added. "He's well-versed in hand-to-hand and is skilled at blending in with a crowd."
"Clearly," Hoynes stated.
Sam bristled. "This is ridiculous!" he cried. "I'm nobody important! Who would want to come after me?"
Elliot fixed an unyielding gaze on Sam. "It's not always about logical consequences," he stated. "THere are a lot of crazies out there that act for no other reason than the sun came up that day. You were taken once already from your family; my job is to make sure that something like that doesn't happen again."
Sam's mouth clicked shut.
Hoynes grinned in satisfaction. "I like him."
Sam scowled at him.
"Sam."
Abbey beckoned for him to follow her. Sam wordlessly obeyed, walking into the kitchen where the stewards waited patiently.
"Thank you all," Abbey told the staff. "We'll handle it from here. Have a good night."
Sam stood awkwardly beside the stove while Abbey bustled about the departing staff, pulling out serving spoons and dishes. She passed a bowl to Sam.
"Here, put the potatoes in that," she directed.
Sam moved to the nearest tray, lifting the cloche and finding green beans. Covering them to preserve the heat, he found the potatoes under the next dome and began scooping mashed potatoes into the bowl.
The two worked in comfortable silence for several minutes, moving food from the kitchen to the adjoining dining room. Sam had just allowed himself to calm down when Abbey finally spoke.
"How are you doing?" she asked as she set the final dish on the dining table.
Sam braced his hands on the back of a chair, staring down at the spread of food. "Honestly?"
"Always preferred that to lies," Abbey replied easily.
The unexpected comment shook a startled laugh out of Sam. The tension bled out of his shoulders.
Abbey gave him a pleased smile. "For what it's worth, you're handling everything better than I would have. I'd probably be shouting the walls down and breaking dishes.
Sam shrugged one shoulder. "Don't count me out yet," he said. "It still doesn't feel real, like it's all happening to someone else."
Abbey nodded. "If you ever feel you need to talk, you can always come to me, or to Jed. I'm sure John and Suzanne would be more than happy to be a sounding board for you, too, but I can see where that might feel awkward."
Sam nodded in agreement.
"Which is also why it might be worth it to confide in your friends," Abbey continued.
Sam's eyebrows shot up. "How exactly do you break news like this?" he asked. "Oh, hey, by the way; it turns out that the parents I thought I had might have actually kidnapped me as a baby. What's the punchline? The vice president is my real father."
"I didn't say it would be easy," Abbey said. "But you might appreciate having someone objective to confide in. Just think about it."
Sam nodded again.
Abbey moved closer to him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "They're good people, John and Suzanne," she stated. "I know John and Jed were rivals for a while, and that Josh worked for John, but that was work. John and Suzanne are good parents to their boys."
Sam looked at her, startled. "I didn't make the connection . . . I have brothers . . ."
Abbey smiled, squeezing his arm. "You do."
Something vulnerable crossed Sam's face. "I don't know how to be a brother," he admitted. "I don't know how to be Charlie."
"Oh, Sam." Abbey drew the young man into a warm hug. "You don't have to be anything other than 'Sam'. I don't know if you've heard, but he's pretty impressive."
Sam let out a laugh.
Abbey pulled back, smiling brightly up at him. "All right; let's call everyone in to eat before the food gets cold."
Sam crossed his arms and scowled as four Secret Service agents, led by Elliot Price, systematically checked his apartment for hidden dangers.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked. "Do you really think it's possible that someone overheard our conversation at the White House and decided to hide in my bedroom closet with a knife?"
"Maybe not the bedroom closet," Elliot retorted.
Sam rolled his eyes. "You guys never cleared my apartment before."
"That you knew of," Elliot corrected.
Ire flashed in Sam's eyes.
Elliot noticed and gestured to one of the other agents to take over. He walked over to Sam. "Mr. Hoynes-."
"No." Sam held up a hand as if to block the name. "Just . . . Just Sam."
Elliot nodded. "Okay. Sam. We didn't start off on the right foot." He held out a hand. "Elliot."
Sam stared at him for a moment, wondering if Elliot was being serious. Coming to some sort of conclusion, he grasped the outstretched hand and shook it.
Elliot offered Sam a light smile and withdrew. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but my guys and I have a job to do. We'll be out of your hair in no time, I promise."
Sure enough, one of the agents called 'all clear' from the back of the apartment. Sam watched as they headed out, nodding respectfully at him as they passed.
"You're all set," Elliot told him. "If you need anything, I'm in the apartment right across the hall."
Sam gave a start. "What?"
"The Secret Service leased it," Elliot explained. "Mostly it'll be me, but a few other agents will cycle through too." He followed his team into the hall. "Have a good night."
Sam mumbled a response and shut the door firmly. Turning, he sagged heavily against it, allowing the day's events to wash over him.
At least dinner had gone smoothly. Not for the first time, Sam sent up a prayer of thanks for Abbey Bartlet. She seemed to have developed a sixth sense about him and had expertly maneuvered their conversations to safer topics every time he grew uncomfortable.
At the end of the night, however, it had taken her and Bartlet's support as well as the Secret Service's assurances to let Sam return to his apartment alone. Even Sam wasn't unaffected by Suzanne's crushing hug farewell, or by the poorly concealed fear on Hoynes' face of letting Sam out of his sight.
Sighing wearily, Sam pushed himself off of the door and moved deeper into his apartment, shedding his coat and suit jacket as he went. He loosened his tie as he checked his answering machine for messages, but paused as his eyes slipped over to his phone.
Butterfield's warning not to contact his parents rang in his ears, and the logical part of Sam's mind understood the reason behind it. The more vulnerable, emotional part, however, was not so easily convinced.
Sam grabbed his phone and dialed his parents' home number, reveling in the rush of defiance. Receiving no answer, he tried his mother's cell number, then his father's. None of his calls went through.
He glanced at his watch as he contemplated calling his father's office at the firm he worked in. It was after hours even on the West Coast, but just barely. He had a chance of reaching someone if he called now.
Logic prevailed in his ruminations. Butterfield had said his dad was overseas; even if he reached another lawyer at the firm, it was his dad he wanted to talk to anyway.
Sam slowly sank onto the couch as he set the phone aside. His head leaned back as he all-but melted into the cushions. There, in the silence of his apartment, the revelation of his true parentage came crashing down on him.
Kidnapped?
His eyes slide shut at the thought. How was it possible to not even know he'd been kidnapped? He'd seen pictures of his mother, pregnant with him. His grandmother had told stories of horrible morning sickness, of ridiculous cravings his mother had sent his father out to find at two in the morning. Of regret for not being there for the birth, his mother having to deliver without anyone there . . .
Sam's eyes snapped open, unable to continue that line of thought. His mind wandered over to Hoynes, wondering what it might have been like to grow up with Hoynes as his father . . . with brothers . . .
Distant memories floated to the surface. Reading a book alone in the yard faded into three little boys chasing each other around . . . holiday dinners with just him and his mom shifted into a table overflowing with relatives . . . his graduations now accompanied by a beaming Hoynes, the pride on his face identical to the look Sam had seen earlier that evening . . .
Sam tore himself out of his thoughts, dismissing them almost violently. It didn't serve any purpose to wander down the path of 'might-have-been', and besides; he was being disloyal to the family that did raise him. He'd had a good childhood; better than most given the opportunities he'd had available to him. So what if he'd been a little lonely?
Sam stood, running a hand through his hair. He glanced around the room, then decided to turn in for the night. Maybe when he awoke the next morning, everything would just be some bizarre dream and it would all go back to the way it was.
end chapter 2