The hospital was too white. Too bright. Smelled too clean, yet his last memory forced him to sense the death and fear that was somewhere in those stark halls. Josh sat beside Sam's bed, watching him sleep, staring at the machines that hooked to other machines and to his friend, and he didn't have any idea what they did or what they were for. Every blip and beep made him want to jump and get the nurse, even though he knew Sam was going to be fine. The immense relief he had felt when the surgery was over put him on the floor, folded over his knees, and when he heard that Sam would be fine the tears came. He let them. Even Toby rubbed a hand over his face, his own eyes wet with emotion. He was three days in ICU. Moved to his own room. Scheduled for a flight out as soon as he was strong enough. Josh was scheduled to leave with Toby that afternoon.

They were long overdue. It couldn't be helped, but the White House was in need of its senior staff members, and there were many important issues that could no longer be delayed or handed down. Time was long since up. Toby was waiting downstairs with the luggage patiently, a remarkable act in itself, but the truth was he didn't want to leave any more than Josh did. But he knew his duty and told Josh, in no uncertain terms, what to do with his. This was after an argument where Josh insisted he was staying. Toby didn't have much of a leg to stand on, seeing as how he disregarded orders himself in order to save his friends. Truth be told, that was another reason he was reluctant to return to work. But he'd be damned if he was going through that alone.

Josh knew that if he looked through the pale striped curtains, he would see the stout figure pacing beside the taxi. He knew he had to leave, and knew Sam could be as much as a week behind them. He also knew Sam was in good hands, that despite everything that had happened, his interest and health was at the heart of the locals. Everyone knew what had happened. For a while well-wishers actually lined the streets, something Josh couldn't understand. Apparently the people felt guilty, having had peace for so long, to have something happen to US government personnel. Or maybe they were just curious. Sam merely blinked when he heard of the crowds, saw the flowers sent to his room in small, hand-picked bunches. On the surface he seemed as baffled as they were. They weren't certain, because he wouldn't talk. He had yet to say a word.

Josh leaned over him, smoothing the hair back from his brow. "Time for a trim, buddy. I'd give you one before I leave, but Toby'll have my ass if I don't get out of here." Sam shifted slightly, the pain medication keeping him well under. "I'll call you. I have to go now, but I'll be calling every day, so you better say something. No choice, I'm not wasting my money just to hear you breathe." He straightened, then placed a hand on Sam's chest. "Hurry home," he whispered. And Sam unexpectedly wrapped his hand over Josh's, opened his bright eyes, and gave a slight smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

three months later

"Sam." Toby walked into Sam's office without preamble and shut the door behind him. "We've got a problem."

"Just one?" Sam quipped, his face attentive.

"You know that bill that we worked so diligently on, the one that the President put his seal of approval on, the one that was going to get this administration running again? The one that was supposed to pass Senate?"

"It didn't pass."

"It didn't pass!"

"Why?"

"Apparently they didn't like the tag."

"The President authorized the tag."

"The President authorized the whole bill, but does it matter?" Toby's voice was calm but his expression was dark.

"So we run it through again." Sam's eyes darted to his window looking towards the bullpen, and back again.

Toby sighed and leaned against the door. "We approached this from the wrong direction. We're supposed to be leading, not following. Not only that, we're sneaking in from the back, that's not our style."

Sam turned his pen between his fingers. "Are you suggesting a frontal assault?"

"We need to pound the doors down on this one, Sam. This is the third bill in a row to be voted down."

"That's not so unusual for us these days."

"Of course it isn't! That's the problem! We're taking pot shots and throwing out scraps for the ducks to feed on! We should be serving fillet mignons and instead we have ground chuck!"

"Feeling a little hungry there, Toby?"

"Sam for once can you take this seriously? I'm saying we need to rewrite the proposal. Top to bottom. Josh is going over the bill itself."

"No he isn't. He's standing outside my window." Sam signaled for Josh to enter, but was waved away with a nod. Sam's friendly face clenched. "He knows I'm gonna kill him."

"What?"

"That's the fifth time in two hours he's stopped at my window."

Toby turned and glanced at it. "He's thinking."

"He's not. He's checking up on me." Sam pointed with his pen. "He's been doing this since we started back to work."

"Have you been chewing that pen?"

"Maybe."

"Well stop, its bad for you. . .where's the ballpoint I gave you for your birthday?"

"Out of ink."

"You can't refill it?"

"Quite frankly it hasn't been the first thing on my mind. Now Josh. . ."

"You have an ink stain on your sleeve."

"What? Oh, CRAP."

"That's why you don't chew on pens. Wash your mouth, too. I want to see the first draft by one o' clock, I want this thing done today." Toby opened the door, watching Sam leap up and check his shirt before straightening his collar and heading for the men's room. He smiled and walked into his adjoining office.

"It still sucks."

"Sam, it's a first draft!"

"And I usually write first drafts better than this! This sucks."

"What did Toby say?"

"That it sucks."

"Oh. Well then." Josh grabbed an apple out of a nearby fruit basket and tossed it to Sam. "What's your deadline?" He picked up a banana..

"You know, you really should ask before raiding someone's fruit basket."

"I gave it to her."

"Date?"

"More like a diet incentive."

"That's mean!"

"She wanted one! Deadline?"

Sam checked his watch. "Two hours."

"Then why the hell are you talking to me?"

"I need a break." Sam bit into the apple. He chewed thoughtfully. "You know, I could just walk in there and wince and clutch at my side."

"How many times have you done that this week?"

"A good point," Sam replied in a chipper tone. "Brief, but well made."

"You just need to get your swing back." He took the paper from Sam and read it. "Though I must admit. . ."

"Not you, too," Sam groaned. "Is it really that bad?"

"No, really, this is good, it just, I don't know. It doesn't have that Seaborn spark."

"Seaborn spark?"

"Yeah, you know, that. . ." he drew his lips tight together and made a fist, gently punching the air in front of him, "you know. That thing."

"It is that bad."

"No, it's just. . ."

"Bad." Sam snatched the paper away and started off.

Josh caught up with him. "Look, just lock yourself up in your office. . ."

"Where do you think I've been?"

"I mean no calls, no nothing."

"You obviously haven't been around when I write."

"I've been around when you and Toby write. Maybe you should work together on this, until you get your swing back."

"No, I can do this." Sam was frowning at his paper and not watching. Josh didn't even have time to yell out before Sam mis-stepped as the stairwell surprised him. He tumbled down as people swerved out of the way, then hovered over him.

Josh pushed them out of the way. "Sam! Jesus, are you okay?"

Sam looked up shamefaced. "Uh-huh."

"You sure?" Josh was actually prodding, checking for broken bones.

"Josh, what are you. . .stop that!" Sam slapped his hands away. "What are you doing? Ow. . ."

"Sam?"

"Mr. Seaborn?" A security guard shouldered the people aside, his badge flashing in Sam's face. "Do I need to send for a medic?"

"No, god no, get me up." He sat up slowly. "Just knocked my head around, back'll be sore. I'm fine."

"You need a doctor." Josh hoisted his to his feet, steadying him.

"Josh, really. . ."

"I mean it Sam."

"And so do I!" Sam flung Josh's hand off of his arm. "What is with you lately?"

"What?"

"I said I'm fine! Can't you just take my word for that! You gotta monitor my every move?"

"I'm trying to help!"

"I've noticed!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" The crowd had backed away but not dispersed, watching the sudden change of mood with avid curiosity. Sam could just see the stern figure of Leo McGarry looming in the distance.

"I mean you need to back off," he said firmly. "I mean you haven't given me a moment to breathe since I started back to work. I mean I don't need a sitter!"

"Hey, you're the one who came and got me out of my office! Don't put this one on me! You said you needed to walk!"

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it!"

"What's going on here?" Leo had arrived with all the speed of an angry bull. "Are the two of you out of your heads? You want the press corp up our ass? Take it outta here!" He grabbed Josh's arm and sent Sam a look that made him feel like he deserved a punishment from the principle's office. They allowed themselves to be shuffled back up the stairs as the various workers faded into the slick distance below them.

Leo's face was stormy. "You want to explain what just happened?"

Josh looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do, so Sam squared his shoulders and raised his chin. "I slipped. I fell down the stairs while reading a draft. It caused a commotion."

"Damn straight it did! You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Good. I'm glad. But that's not what I saw. What I saw were two grown men, two government officials and members of the White House senior staff, bowing up like kids in a school yard! Now if you have something to hash out then do so, and do it quickly and behind closed doors. We have staff in ten, the President has an issue to discuss, so I advise you go ahead and get this out of your system so you can go in there looking like the professionals you are supposed to be. You got that?" Leo wasn't to be crossed. His face was sharp and angular in the odd light, his eyes burning, his jaw set. Never mind his age. He could take anyone down by a stare.

Josh and Sam apologized to him. What choice did they have?

"Now I'm going to lock you two in a room. And you're going to talk. And then I'm going to come back, and this will be resolved. Do I make myself clear?" The younger men nodded as Leo lead them to an unused office and practically shoved them inside. The door slammed, and on a whim, Josh tugged at the handle.

"Holy shit. He really did lock us in."

"Great. How do I explain this to Toby?" Sam slapped his folder down on the table in the center of the room. Even in his mood he was caught by the notion that all the meeting rooms smelled like furniture polish and leather. "I don't have time for this."

"Hey, you're not the only one with work, ya know! I was pretty busy myself when you came for me!"

"With what?"

"You know, that. . .thing."

"Wonderful." Sam yanked at a chair and sat. He exhaled sharply, ran a hand over the back of his neck, and opened the folder. Josh stood quietly, then peered over his shoulder. Sam turned.

"Can I help you?"

"I thought we were supposed to talk things out."

"Funny, I thought we'd just wait for Leo to get us out. Not like we can miss senior staff."

"I wouldn't put it past Leo to make our excuses and keep us in here until the world unites under one flag." Josh sat near Sam. "What did you mean in the hall?"

"What?"

"You said you noticed. When I said I was trying to help."

"I did notice!"

"But that's not how you said it."

"How did I say it?"

"Like you're pissed! And you said I haven't given you a moment to breathe, what is that?"

"Fine. You wanna know?" Sam faced Josh. "Ever since I got out of the hospital you've been hovering. This is past concern. This is a fixation."

"What?!"

"You heard."

"Sam, that is – that's the most absurd. . ." he barked out a laugh, "you think I have a fixation?"

"I think when you got shot I was concerned and scared as hell, but backed off and gave you time to cope with it."

"Oh, is that what you call it? Funny, I thought you were avoiding me!"

"How could I avoid you? I visited!"

"And sat clear across the room like you were afraid to touch me!"

"I was! I mean. . .why are we talking about this?"

"You were? What the hell. . ."

They both realized that a subject had been brought up inadvertently, something that still shocked and scared them both, something they never really talked about, other than in that shack. With it dangling out in the open and both men coherent enough to recognize it, there was nothing to be done but plow on. "I felt guilty, okay?" Sam said. "I felt like I should have found you, like maybe you were wondering where I was or something."

"Actually, I believe I was thinking something along the lines of 'this hurts like a motherfuck'." Sam had to smile. "Really, Sam, I though any guilt was left behind us with all that."

"I was just trying to explain."

"Look, that has nothing to do with this. You won't even talk about this."

"I'm trying to forget about it."

"Sam. . ." Josh shook his head and looked away for a moment. Sweat started to dot his brow. "You can't not talk about it. If I learned anything about Rosslyn, I learned that."

"I'm fine. You're the one hovering."

"Okay, okay, I see where this is going. Fine. I'll start. That thing we went though was worse than Rosslyn could ever have been. I sat and watched. . ." he paused and bit his lip.

"I know, I watched it too."

"No, you watched them take me out of a room. You didn't see the beatings, you didn't hear the threats. You just caught me when I fell back in." Josh's voice grew soft. "I saw it. I saw them do things to you, I SAW a gun held to your head, I saw them hold you down and pour that shit down your throat. I SAW you beaten. And each time I waited for you to die. It's not the same at all."

"Josh, stop." Sam turned back to his folder, and started when Josh grabbed his arm.

"No! No, I won't stop there. I heard what they wanted to do to you. I had to sit there and listen and wonder and worry, and when they brought you in that last time I thought it was over. And I couldn't do a damn thing."

"No, you couldn't, so stop. . ."

"I watched it, dammit! All of it! So don't you DARE accuse me of hovering, because I swore to myself that nothing would happen to you again, that I wouldn't just stand aside." Josh released his arm and wiped a hand over his face, turning his attention to the glassy wood.

Sam's face wore a mask of regret. He was stunned, touched, embarrassed, every uncomfortable feeling rolled into one. He returned his gaze to the table, and the two of them sat in silence until the door opened with a creak and Leo looked in. "Better?"

"Yes," Josh said over his shoulder.

"Good. The President is ready." He watched as Sam slowly stood and pushed the chair back in. "And I want to talk to each of you separately after the meeting."