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chapter sixty

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oh what good is it to live
with nothing left to give
forget but not forgive
not loving all you see

the streets you're walking on
a thousand houses long
well that's where i belong
and you belong with me
--Coldplay, "Swallowed in the Sea"

xx

February 3rd, 2004
10:55 am

Sam shut the car door forcefully behind her and glanced across the top of the car as Martin did the same. One of his new secret service agents got out of the front seat beside the driver and walked on ahead of them through the front doors of St. Andrew's Hospital in Ashton. As she and Martin scaled the front steps of the hospital building, the clear glass doors opened and a middle-aged man with graying hair walked out to welcome them.

The man wore black dress pants and a white physician's coat, and he reached a hand out to greet them. "Senator Fitzgerald, Agent Spade," he said, shaking each of their hands. "I'm Michael Graves, medical director here at St. Andrew's. It's wonderful to meet both of you."

Sam nodded her acknowledgement as Martin returned formal pleasantries; it still struck her as strange when, on occasion, people recognized her without an introduction.

Dr. Graves led them through several corridors and up in an elevator, all the while making small talk that Sam was tuning out. She was absolutely exhausted, and Martin was even worse. Over the past five days, he had flown back and forth from DC several times for emergency closed-door meetings with the President, along with Senator Adair; Congressman Marshall, the Representative for Ashton's district; and New York's Governor Feldman. The EPA temporarily shut down Wyland Industries pending a full investigation of all activities, and several prominent lawyers had already offered to help the citizens of Ashton file suit against the company.

They stopped in front of a set of heavy doors marked 'Pediatric Oncology' before Dr. Graves waved his badge against a sensor on the wall. There was a heavy click and the doors swung open automatically. Dr. Graves turned and motioned with his hands, ushering them through.

The halls ahead were blank and white and eerily quiet. As Sam's eyes scanned the hospital corridor, there was only one word that came to mind and that was 'sterile'.

Dr. Graves carried himself with the air of an administrator, very polite but very formal, and Sam felt slightly out of place in his presence. He turned to face the two of them and cleared his throat as he announced, "This is our Pediatric Oncology Ward. It's pretty quiet today, but we've, uh... we've been crowded in here recently."

She felt Martin brush closer against her side, clasping her hand as he solemnly nodded. "Of course. We understand."

Graves seemed anxious as he stood in front of them, almost nervous. He furrowed his brow and lost his administrative composure for a beat as he added softly, "I want to thank you both for coming down here to meet with some of the families. I can't begin to tell you what a relief it has been for them, to just have some validate the reason behind all of their suffering and to bring Hugo Wyland the justice he deserves."

"We're happy to be here," Martin replied. "We'll never be able to bring Wyland the full extent of the justice he deserves, but at least this is as start."

Nodding once in agreement, Graves led them over to a small room at the end of the corridor. In contrast to the stark white walls of the hallway, this room was decorated in soft pastel colors and lined with children's artwork. Two large sofas at against the far wall underneath the window, and there were several tables and cabinets lined with art supplies. "This is our art therapy room," Graves announced as he motioned to the easel in the corner. "If you'd like to just take a seat here, I'm going to go see who is feeling up to a visit."

Once Graves left them alone in the room, Martin released a long sigh and walked past her to sit on the sofa. She took a few steps to join him, but then one of the pictures on the wall caught her eye. She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes as she peered in at the child's drawing: an obviously balding man stood in the foreground, holding a camera and smiling broadly. In the corner, the artist scribbled his name in an unsteady, irregular child's scrawl: Sean, 2002.

Sam drew in a sharp breath and subconsciously fingered the outlines of the child's signature. She heard Martin shift, rising from where he sat and shuffling over towards her, but she found herself captivated by the child's artwork.

"What is it, Samantha?" Martin asked softly, looking in over her shoulder.

"I think," Sam sighed, biting her lower lip as she breathed in reply, "that Sean Wilson drew this - probably not long before he died."

Martin shifted his weight beside her to take a closer look at the picture. "I think you're right." He took her hand in his and silently led her back to the sofa. "Are you doing alright?" he asked, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, idly folding her spare hand in her lap. She craned her neck to look up at him and said, "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one who's been back and forth between here and DC three times in the last week."

He shrugged and shook his head slowly. "I'm used to that," he offered.

"Have you heard back from your father yet?" Beside her, Sam felt Martin tense up. He and Victor exchanged harsh words over the phone the day the Wyland story broke in the Times, but as far as she knew, Martin had not been back in touch with his father since then.

"We've been playing phone tag via our secretaries," he answered. He paused for a beat, a sheepish expression crossing his face, and he added, "I should probably send some flowers to both Margaret and Beverly, who have both been on the receiving end of my father's wrath this week."

Sam chuckled at his own self-deprecation, a smile tugging at her lips, and she asked, "What about Anna? Has she forgiven you yet?"

Martin laughed. "She's been huffing around, but she'll get over it. She always does."

When Anna found out that they were planning to make this trip to visit some of the Ashton families, she immediately began insisting that she be allowed to arrange a few photo ops. Martin's vehement refusal of her suggestion was met with heated disapproval on Anna's part, but Martin insisted that this was a personal trip and he did not want to use it for any sort of political gain.

There was a knock at the door, and they both looked up as Dr. Graves appeared in the door frame. "Senator Fitzgerald, Agent Spade," he said quietly, clearing his throat, "We're ready for you."

xx

6:00 pm

Sam padded out of the bathroom and into the closet, rifling through her clothes until she found a blouse to wear with her jeans. Glancing around for a moment, she realized that the closet was now become overrun with her things as well as Martin's. When they first started dating, Martin's New York home had been remarkably empty as he rarely stayed here for more than a night or two at a time and, even if he did, he had very little reason to leave many of his things here. It seemed like half a lifetime ago now, as she found herself staying here just as often as she stayed in her own apartment.

Shutting the closet door behind her, she finished getting dressed and pulled her still-damp hair back in a ponytail before heading down the hall to put her sweaty clothes in the laundry. They had arrived back at Martin's a little over an hour ago, and she chose to go out for a run so that she was out of the way when Anna and Rick arrived to talk about Martin's upcoming agenda.

To be honest, after the time they spent at St. Andrew's earlier that afternoon, Sam felt the need to get out and run, expend some energy and process what she had seen.

xx

The instant that Sam and Martin walked into the room, the entire family looked up and began to stare. With the careful surveillance of a federal agent, Sam took in the people before them as Martin stepped forward and introduced them.

"Hey there," he began, turning towards the patient lying in the bed. The little girl, who looked no more than ten although Dr. Graves mentioned that she was actually thirteen, looked thin, weak, and extremely frail. "You must be Sara. I'm Martin, and this is Samantha."

Sara coughed and meekly replied, "Hi."

"Senator Fitzgerald, Agent Spade." The woman sitting at Sara's bedside rose and stepped forward to shake their hands. "I'm -- I'm Katherine Morris, Sara's mom, and this is my husband Jack." Her husband gave a small nod of his head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Martin gave her a soft smile in reply. "Though I wish it could be under better circumstances."

"Likewise," Jack Morris echoed Martin's sentiments.

Sam hung back just slightly, overwhelmed and unsure of how to respond; she waited to follow Martin's lead.

Katherine glanced back at her daughter before giving Sam and Martin a long look and said, choking back tears, "I just wanted to tell you how much it means to us, what you risked to come out with the truth. This -- what's happened to our family and to so many of our neighbors -- no one deserves that." She paused, breathing deeply as she reached out for her husband's hand. "I don't know if the doctors already told you, but we've already lost one daughter, Sara's younger sister Elisabeth. They were only a year apart, and they did everything together... They played down in the river with their friends every afternoon from late May until September."

"This is a picture of the girls two years ago, at Beth's fifth grade graduation picnic. Beth was diagnosed just a few weeks later. We just barely got over the shock when Sara was tested for bone marrow compatibility and they told us that her tests were abnormal and she was sick, too."

Sam took the picture from Katherine's outstretched hand, leaning in against Martin for support. The girls in the picture smiled back up at them, long blonde hair framing their faces as they smiled and hugged each other. The picture Sara looked young, carefree and totally happy, so very different from the balding, thin girl with moonface who lay quietly on the hospital bed hooked up to IVs and monitors.

"See?" Sara said, her voice soft and grainy. She coughed again and slowly sat up in bed, refusing her father's help as she insisted to do it herself. She nodded to Sam and continued, "I used to have pretty hair just like yours. Now I wear a wig when I go outside, but one day I'll wear my hair long again."

Sam smiled at the girl, taking the seat by her bedside. "I tell you what," she said, "You give me a call when you're ready, and we can go out and have makeovers and get our nails done. You know, girly stuff."

Sara smiled back. "Really?"

"My treat. You just work on getting better, and I'll work out the details. Deal?"

Sara placed her small hand in Sam's and they shook on it.

"Deal."

xx

Sam shook herself from the memory, wandering back downstairs and into the kitchen to get a drink. She poured herself a glass of water and started up another pot of coffee for Martin, Anna and Rick.

She sipped slowly, the cool liquid soothing her throat as she drank, and walked into the downstairs study where Martin was currently camped out with Anna and Rick. When she got back from her run they were busy picking apart a new piece of legislation on new energy alternatives, but now they seemed to have moved on to discussing the lunches, meetings and other appearances that were on his calendar for the upcoming week.

"... and your flight to Chicago doesn't leave until 6:00 on Thursday evening, so that should leave you enough time to have a late lunch with the president of EcoSafe Alliance, who has been calling nonstop since the article on Wyland came out. His name is..." Anna paused for a second, scanning her schedule book until she came across the name she was looking for, "Gabe LaVigne and you should be able to..."

Anna was interrupted by her cell phone that began to shrill on the desk beside her. "Hello?" she answered. She frowned and bit her lower lip, listening intently for a few seconds and then dropped the phone back down on the desk. "Turn on the TV to channel 14," she insisted.

Rick, who was closest to the remote control, quickly did as she said. In the commotion, Martin turned around and caught Sam's eye from where she stood at the door, but they both turned around the second they heard the sound of the television. The picture came into focus and they all watched intently as the CNN Breaking News ticker rolled across the bottom of the screen: SENATOR MCCLOUD TENDERS HIS RESIGNATION. PRESS CONFERENCE SCHEDULED FOR 8:00 PM. FOUR TERM MINNESOTA SENATOR RESIGNS OVER BACKLASH FROM WYLAND INDUSTRIES SCANDAL.

CNN showed footage of McCloud walking down the Senate steps, surrounded by advisors and secret service, and flocked by reporters eager to grab the insider's quote, while the voice over commentary discussed the fallout of 'Wylandgate'. The screen cut to profile pictures of the nine prominent politicians who had been linked to Wyland up to this point, all the while praising New York's Senator Fitzgerald for having the courage to help pull the plug on Wyland's operation even if it meant calling out members of his own party as well.

Martin simply shrugged, reaching out for the TV remote and hitting the mute button.

Sam caught his eye and grinned slyly. "Damn, you are good."

He laughed.

"You just noticed?"

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