Chapter Two: Let Your Guard Down
Weeks go by; they bicker, unpack boxes, eat way too much takeout, put the loft together and return unneeded things to storage, and work to late far to often.
Things are perfect until they aren't. Its a Sunday, February 4, that Sam comes home to find Ainsley sitting on the couch with a tumbler of Scotch in her hand and tears running down her face. He has never seen her cry; not when she left the counsel's office, not when he left for California.
"Ainsley?" She doesn't respond and it sends him running across the loft to kneel in front of her. "Ainsley, what happened."
She takes a gulp of the Scotch. "There was an explosion." She wipes angrily at her tears before continuing. "In a market in Bagdad. 133 people were killed, including seven American Marines."
"I heard about that." He carefully puts a hand over hers. He sits on the couch next to her.
"He's dead." The emptiness in her eyes terrifies him. "US Marine Corps. Captain Daniel L. Taylor, my best friend was just killed in action." A heart wrenching sob breaks through her chest and tightens a noose around his heart.
He pulls her into his lap and holds her, not knowing what else to do. Her hand fist in his shirt and the glass of Scotch tumbles onto the floor, smashing with a deafening sound. Sam buries his face into her neck and whispers comfort as her tears begin to ease. When her tears are silent he slides an arm under her legs and carries her into her bathroom, setting her on the counter.
"Hey." He gently lifts her chin. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" She nods weakly. He starts the water running and makes sure that she has a clean towel before he leaves her alone.
Ainsley carefully slides off the counter and stares at herself in the mirror. All she can see in the reflection is Daniel's blue eyes. She turns away and begins undressing with shaking hands before stepping under the warm cascade of water, feeling it beat against her skin and begin to weigh down her hair. She stands there waiting for her tears to well up again. They do and she cries quietly so as not to worry Sam.
When her eyes are dry and her throat hoarse, she steps out of the shower numbly. She wraps the towel around herself after squeezing some of the water out of her hair. She catches a glimpse of a pale, hollow version of herself with red rimmed eyes in the mirror.
She finds a clean pair of pajamas and pulls them on and climbs into bed, functioning on auto pilot. Ainsley looks up as Sam enters the room, a mug of hot coco in his hands.
"Here." She takes it from him gratefully. He sits by her side as she silently finishes it.
He takes the mug downstairs and returns a little while later, dressed in his sleeping clothes. She's curled on her side, starring into the room. He kneels down and meets her eyes.
"Ainsley." She blinks at his soft words. "Are you going to be okay tonight?" She doesn't move. He takes a strand of her hair between his fingers and wraps it around and around until he reaches her scalp and buries a hand in her fine blond hair.
"Sam." She says after a while. He 'hmms' in response. "Stay with me?" He nods. She moves closer to the center of the bed and he turns out the light before joining her. She curls against his chest and falls asleep in the circle of his arms. He breathes her in, closing his eyes.
There is a pain sitting heavily on his chest, woven in between his ribs and making it hard to breathe. He looks at her face in the dim light from the windows, her brow is contorted in sorrow. He feels the pain grow and closes his eyes against the sting of tears as he feels long exiled memories begin to surface. He holds Ainsley closer and concentrates on her breath and the murmur of her heart.
Sam is woken by the ringing of Ainsley's cell phone in the morning. He feels her curl further into his chest before she leans over him and picks up the device. She stares at the phone in her hands for a moment, her tangled hair obscuring her face, before she answers.
"Mr. Taylor." Her voice is lifeless and rough from the tears. He watches her hands shake as she holds the phone to her ear. " Did you make it here okay?"
She listens for a moment before she bites her lip and her voice cracks as she says, "I know Papa, I know..." Her whole body is shaking as Sam sits up and carefully pulls her against his side. "I miss him already."
A single tear slides down her pale cheek. "When is he coming home?" Sam buries his face in her neck, listening. "Papa..."
She falls silent for a while and he can hear the bereaved voice of an older man on the other end of the line. "Of corse I will. I always will, you know that. I need someone by my side, papa. Yes. He wants to pay his respects. No, papa, his father served. He knows about honor." She says goodbye and closes the phone. It rests idly in her hands.
She looks up at Sam, her eyes filled with grief. "He's coming home at three this afternoon." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Sam, I need you by my side."
He searches her face, looking for something that he can't quite find. "Always. I will be there when you need me, no matter what." He drops a kiss on her head. Ainsley squeezes his hand in silent thanks. He looks away and slides out of the bed.
She checks the time on her phone. He can tell she's hoping that time will stand still, wait for her to regain her footing. It doesn't. She feels Sam take the phone from her hands. The lessening of that little weight gives her the strength to rouse herself and stand next to him. Her body aches down to the marrow of her bones.
Its hours later when Sam watches as she sits down at an antique dressing table, patiently working the knots out of her hair. She meets his eyes in the mirror and he pretends to fiddle with his cufflinks. She looks down at her dressing table as she works her long hair into a French twist and holds it there with one hand. She picks up a pearl comb and holds it between her lips as she works a the ends of a black netting veil into the hairstyle and secures it with the comb. She tucks in the folds of veil, securing them with single pearl pins, before she stands from the low seat and locks eyes with him. Sam nods and follows her down the stairs.
Ainsley is silent for the drive to the airstrip. When they arrive just before three, she pulls the netting veil over her eyes and steps out of the car. Sam offers her his arm and she takes it with a hard mustered hint of a smile.
A sturdy older man greets Ainsley as they approach the small group of mourners. "Hello Buttercup." He looks warn and drawn above his dress uniform.
Ainsley slips her arm out of Sam's and hugs the man. "Hello Papa."
The man pulls away and holds her at arm's length for a moment, looking her over carefully. He smiles sadly. "Look at my Buttercup all grown up and a Congresswoman."
"Papa, this is Sam." Ainsley looks up at him through her veil and he can see the slightest bit of hope in her eyes.
The older man holds out his hand to Sam. "James R. Taylor. Pleased to meet you."
Sam shakes his hand. "Congressman Sam N. Seaborn. My deepest condolences for your loss."
The sound of the Honor Guard's precise footsteps echoing in the gaping belly of the transport plane called the group of mourners to attention. They lined up and watched as seven caskets were borne forth from the cavern and carried in perfect, somber time to seven hearses.
The funeral motorcade wound its way to Arlington and the caskets were carried in a silent tattoo towards their final resting places by the stern faced Marine Corps. Honor Guard. Ainsley walked arm in arm with Sam to the gravesite, her face betraying her pain through the veil.
The February afternoon sun was the palest of golds as the flag was lifted to hover above the casket and chaplain began to speak. All that Ainsley could hear was the laughter of faded memories, she could only see Daniel's clear blue eyes the day he left for his last tour, and she could only feel the heavy strength of his arms around her as he hugged her goodbye.
She is torn from her memories as the rifle party is called to attention. She fixes her eyes on the white gloved hands that begin to fold the flag. The first volley is fired into the clear air. She doesn't flinch. One of the honor guard accepts the flag at the time of the second volley and at the third the folded flag is given to James Taylor. With that third sharp sounding of gunfire it hits home that Captain Daniel L. Taylor is gone. Silent tears stream down her cheeks as taps is played.
Dinner with Mr. Taylor that night is a somber affair. They talk about things that don't matter, things that aren't laced with sadness. They bid their farewells sometime later.
"You take care of yourself now, Papa, or you'll be in a heap of trouble." Ainsley hugs him tight and a sliver of a smile appears on the aged man's face.
"I will, buttercup, I will." He kisses Ainsley on the cheek and Sam holds Ainsley's door open for her.
"Sam." Mr. Taylor calls him back. "You treat her right or there'll be hell to pay."
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand." Sam stares at the man in slight bewilderment.
James Taylor strikes a match and lights a cigar. He blows out the first puff of smoke and searches Sam's face. He nods when he finds what he'd been looking for.
"I know you don't, son, but your heart does." He sighs. "She doesn't see how much she need you yet, she will."
Sam thinks for a moment. "I think I understand, Mr. Taylor."
"Good." Another smokey exhale. "You treat her right, she's all I've got left."
Sam smiles. "Always."
Mr. Taylor holds out his hand and Sam takes it. "Godspeed, James Taylor."
The older man has tears in his eyes. "Thank you, son."
Sam watches as the older man puts his gnarled hands in his pockets, walks to the corner and hails a cab. He gets in the car and it purrs to life. He knows that right now silence is the best thing, so he drives them home. He pulls into his parking spot and cuts the engine. Ainsley looks up as he opens her door. She takes his offered hand.
She drifts through the door and into the dark living room, her shoes abandoned in the kitchen. Sam takes off his tie and suit coat. He follows her into the faintly illuminated room, watching as she bends to turn on the stereo. He recognizes the song, its by Joshua James. The song shimmers in the air around them and she looks up at him through the veil and whispers.
"Hold me." And he does, he holds her in the circle of his arms. He sways gently and slowly they begin to move with the music. The transition to dancing is fluid and logical somehow. She buries a hand in his hair as her forehead drops to rest against his collarbone.
She whispers "...thank you..." endlessly.
His eyes burn with tears as he rests his cheek against the top of her head. Sam knows what this kind of pain feels like, he knows that she's broken and it's going to take a while before she's okay. He makes a promise to himself that he will always be there.
It's an indeterminable amount of time until she pulls away and takes his hand, leading him up the stairs. He leaves her at the door to her bedroom and goes to change into his sleeping clothes quickly. When he enters her room she's sitting at the dressing table, trying to pull the pins from her hair with shaking hands. He stands behind her wordlessly and gently removes all the pins. He lifts the netting to reveal her eyes.
She locks eyes with him in the mirror and a slow, sad smile blooms on her lips. He kisses the top of her head as he pulls the pearl comb from her hair and lifts the veil off completely as her hair tumbles down her back. He leaves the room and closes the door, sliding down the wall just outside. He rests his head back against the wall and stares blankly at the ceiling. Sam understands what Mr. Taylor had been talking about; he had been right about Sam's heart understanding.
The door opens. He stands up and Ainsley takes his hand in silent request for him to stay. He returns the gentle pressure and turns off the light as she worms her way into bed. He curls around her, holing her svelte form against his.
"Does the pain ever go away?" Her voice is quiet in the dark room.
"No." He is silent for a moment. "It never goes away completely. It fades, wanes until it is just a dull ache connected to the memories."
She is silent for a while. " We grew up together, like brother and sister when I was young. My father was always somewhere else, my mother was either at the bottom of a bottle or with my father where ever he was." He listens as she speaks, knowing this is what she needs. "Papa took me in, he raised Daniel and I in the same house, he loved me like I was his own flesh and blood. He still does.
"Daniel and I were inseparable; we went to the same schools, from kindergarten on. Daniel's mother died at the end of our Senior year. It tore him up inside, more so than me. Things were rough, but we had each other to lean on. We were there to pick up the pieces no matter what happened. It was August when he told me he was going to join the Marines. I was so afraid that it made me angry.
"We fought for weeks about it. We screamed and cursed the high heavens and we said the most hurtful of things to each other. He was deployed in the middle of August to Beirut in a peace keeping task force. I worried for the six months that while he was there we would get a call telling us that Daniel was part of the body count and that he would never forgive me.
"He came home in February. Papa and I went to pick him up at the airport and I was so worried that he was still angry with me. I remember seeing him step through the doors. He spotted me in the crowd and ran to sweep me off me feet, saying he was sorry over and over. The war changed him, it changed me too, it made both of us stronger. The war made our bond stronger." She draws as shaky breath before she continues.
"Saying goodbye never got any easier." She closes her eyes and settles closer to him.
"Did you love him?" Sam is afraid to ask, but the darkness gives him courage.
"No." She says the word like a sigh. "We knew everything about each other; we knew about our family secrets, what was in our dresser drawers, who we liked, who we slept with. I was the only one who knew that he was not the straight laced US Marine everyone thought he was. He was my brother, never my lover."
Ainsley falls silent and Sam listens as her breath evens out and she falls asleep. He wishes with every fiber of his being that he was holding her for different reasons; he wishes that she wasn't going through immense amounts of pain, he wishes that he was holding her because she wanted him to and not because she needed him to.
He's sure that she's sleeping as he whispers his promise in her ear. "Always."
After that night, there are no more times when Sam and Ainsley share a bed; the only thing that changes between them is how much they let their guard down around each other. The most noticeable change is in Ainsley. She usually shies away from any kind of physical contact, even simple things like being touched on the shoulder by someone trying to get her attention.
She will let Sam rest his hand in the curve of her back as they enter a restaurant. She hugs him when he comes home late and she will lean against his side, absorbed in whatever she's reading, as they sit on the couch glaring at Congressional papers. The change alarms him at first, but he learns to accept her slightly timid affection.
For Sam, her change has made things harder. He dreams of her, his mind filling in the blanks with what could be there. He sees the beautiful length of her creamy legs as she lounges on his bed, contrasting beautifully with his dark sheets. She's wearing one of his shirts, lying on her stomach reading. It's not overtly sexual, it doesn't have to be to drive him crazy. In most of these first dreams he's just holding her.
His dreams become far more heated as the weeks pass. She's spread out underneath him, begging, most of the time. The dreams wind him tighter than he's been since working in the White House and they are starting to bleed into his waking hours.
He's sitting at his desk one Monday, staring at paperwork and trying not to go postal on the other side of the aisle because of a bill about 'explorative drilling' in a national wilderness. This is their third try. His head sinks into his hands momentarily and he runs his fingers through his hair. He notices a cupcake sitting on the corner of his desk and groans. Sam isn't sure how long it's been sitting there, but he tries to glare it down.
It's red velvet, cream cheese frosting and a cherry. He can see her sitting on the edge of his desk, like she always does, asking if she can have the pastry. He just nods even though the room is empty. She takes it off the napkin and pulls the cherry free of the frosting. There is a little bit of the cream cheese still sticking to the red fruit as she brings it to her lips. She pauses.
"It's true that you can tie a knot in a cherry stem." She puts the stem end in her mouth and proves it. He feels his mouth drop open as she offers him a coquettish, flirty smile before biting into the cupcake. Sam groans as he comes back to reality and drops his head to his desk with a solid thunk. He sits there for a moment before looking up to find the Ainsley created by his over active imagination licking a smear of frosting off a finger.
He bangs his head on his desk repeatedly, trying to get the images of her out of his mind so he can concentrate. He hears his door open, but ignores it.
"Congressman Seaborn?" He raises his head to stare at his aide who looks rather alarmed. "Are you okay, Sir?"
He ignores the question. "What did you need?"
"This is the final draft of HR 205." Sam blinks and realizes that the young man looks like a male combination of Donna Moss and Leo's assistant Margaret Hooper. He takes the folio from the aide and adds it to the stack of papers.
"Thank you Andrew. You should go home for the night, I'm going to be here for a while." Sam looks back to the endless paper on his desk and sighs.
Andrew raises an eyebrow, picks up the stack and begins to leaf through it. "Congressman, you've already signed off on most of these. Besides, I go home when you do, Sir."
The comment brings a smile to Sam's face. The boy is just like Margaret. "Andrew, do you know a woman named Margaret Hooper?"
The young man stills for a moment. "Yes. She's my aunt." Well, that explained it. Sam is handed a small sheaf of papers. "These are the only things you have to look over before Friday. I suggest that you go home for the night, you have a red patch on your forehead."
Sam chuckles and stands up from his desk. "Thank you Andrew. Have a good night."
Sam sighs as he steps into the parking garage, its the tail end of March and all the news outlets are reporting that the temperature and humidity are abnormally high for this time of the year. Sam doesn't mind the heat so much as the humidity, it makes his skin feel sticky and constantly sweaty. He gets into his car and turns on the AC, trying to dry out slightly and cool off.
He's relieved to step through the door into the loft and shed his tie as he makes his way into the living room. He can hear soft music and see the glow of a lamp. He knows that Ainsley is somewhere close by, but he can't see her just yet. He notices that the door to the balcony is open and a light breeze is stirring the orchids. Sam pauses as he rounds the couch, his hands stilling on the button of his shirt.
Ainsley is draped languidly on her stomach over the cushions of the couch, her long legs exposed, her shoulders bare. She's wearing a blue camisole and a pair of sleep shorts which are crumpled up and over thighs and he can see a glimpse of her underwear. He can see the faint glisten of sweat on her shoulder blades. She groans and props herself up on her elbows, looking over her shoulder at him.
"It's too hot." Sam smiles at her crankiness and she looks like she wants to glare but can't. Her hair is captured and, more importantly, off her neck in a messy knot.
"I thought you liked the heat Ainsley." He sits down, moving her feet.
"In the South, we have air conditioning when we need it. I've been in DC long enough that my heat tolerance has gone way down." She turns over and sits up, rolling her neck to work out the kinks. She looks out the windows, a wistful look in her eyes. "Daniel loved the North Carolina summers."
Sam stares at his hands, mentally yelling at himself because of his desire. He takes a breath and looks up at her.
"Are you okay?" He knows that its a stupid question to ask, but he can't find anything else to say.
She looks away from the windows, but she can't quite meet his eyes. "I'm all right Sam." He doesn't believe her.
It takes Sam until April to believe Ainsley when she says that she's okay. He knows he can believe her when he is woken up one Saturday morning with loud music coming from downstairs. He groans as he opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling before he rolls out of bed and stumbles downstairs.
He finds her in the kitchen and leans against the door way to watch her as she bakes something chocolate. She's wearing one of his dress shirts, it looks like a dress on her, as she dances to KT Tunstall's 'Big Black Horse & The Cherry Tree' using the batter covered wooden spoon for a microphone.
He watches her hips swivel as she dances and coaxes batter into a muffin tin. He notices the creamy length of her legs as she stretches to reach the chocolate morsels. She presses them into each cupcake and licks the spoon as she dances her way to the oven. She freezes for a few seconds when she sees him leaned against the doorway. She blinks, shrugs and begins to lip sink for him while licking the spoon free of batter.
His eyebrows arch as she tosses the spoon towards the sink and pulls him into the kitchen with her. Her hands are on his hips, guiding him to move with her. She grins and he feels his inhibitions fly out the window. His attention focuses in on her lips as she performs the song for him. He grabs her hand and maneuvers her into a spin. She laughs as she looses her balance and he catches her.
"Good morning Ainsley." She looks up at him, a smile pulling at her mouth.
"Hello Sam." He lets her go as she rights herself. She dances herself over to the coffee pot and pours him a cup before settling in at the island. He leans against the counter across from her. He takes a swig of his coffee, studying her over the rim of his mug.
"Let's go out tonight." He watches her face.
He sees a smile begin to grow on her lips as she tucks her hair behind her ear. She shifts in the chair and fiddles with the button on his shirt. He waits.
"Okay." She smiles up at him and it makes him grin like an idiot. The buzzer on the oven makes itself known. He watches as she slides off the chair and carefully removes the cupcakes from the oven. She leaves them on the counter to cool and hops up to sit on the counter.
He smiles as she swings her feet. "Where would you like to go tonight?"
She looks thoughtful for a moment. "How about that Indian place on capitol hill that we've wanted to go since I started with the Bartlet Administration?"
"A woman after my own heart." Sam knows there's thinly veiled meaning in those words, he is a speech writer after all.
Ainsley's musical laugh fills the kitchen. "My mama taught me the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach." He raises his coffee cup to her.
They spend most of the day running errands. Ainsley tells him under no uncertain terms that she will help him with the food shopping this week. He flushes pink slightly and tries to defend himself weakly before he gives up. They make it home by five, slightly sweaty and laughing. Ainsley leaves him to put away the groceries while she showers. He doesn't mind one bit. Sam balances the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he calls to make reservations.
Ainsley steps into the shower, grateful that the water is cutting the sticky heat of the unusually warm April day. The heat hasn't broken since around March 29. It isn't just the weather she's considering as heat; she thinks about her recent daydreams that strike her at the oddest, most inappropriate moments. Her body remembers Sam's warmth and masculinity from when she had needed him to hold her together and he had curled around her.
She blushes as she thinks about why she feels okay being near him or touching him. It's her secret. She has become addicted almost to his warmth and his slightly spicy smell and it triggers her impulsive urges. She finds herself wanting to reach out and pull him into a hug to feel his stubble against her neck when he comes home for they day. She will catch herself talking far too long fiddling with his tie and collar in the morning before they rush out the door, coffees in hand. She finds it odd that she does that because Mrs. Taylor would do that to Daniel's father before he left for work.
She washes her hair, thinking about her preoccupation with her best friend. She likes the broadness of his shoulders and the way that his hair is perpetually mussed like he's either been sleeping or kissing someone senseless. Oh lord, his lips. The bottom one pouts perfectly and is usually slightly red because he bites it when he's thinking about something.
She turns of the water and dries body before she goes to her closet. She pulls on a red silk dress that accentuates her waist and flirts around her knees before she remembers that she can't zip it herself. Ainsley bites her lip and foes to find Sam.
She can hear him moving around in his room as she passes his closed door and stops. Taking a deep breath she musters her courage.
"Sam?" She hears him drop something and raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah?" The door opens a few seconds later. He's mostly dressed, but his shirt is open.
Her eyes quickly move to his face and stay there. "I need your help, can you zip me up?"
It takes a moment for him to process the request, then he smiles. "Sure."
"Thanks Sam." She turns so that he can see her back.
Sam loses his train of thought as he sees the smooth skin of her back and the red lace of her bra strap. He bites his bottom lip and raises trembling hands towards the zipper. Despite his best attempts, his fingers brush the length of her spine and he could swear that he sees her shiver.
Ainsley wipes the slightly dazed expression off her face and turns to look at him. Her mouth is slightly dry. "Thanks again. I'll be done in a minute." He nods.
True to her promise, Ainsley comes down the stairs a few moments later and takes Sam's breath away. She had very little makeup on, the dress fit her sinfully well, and she is wearing a choker made of dark red rhinestones that looks like it came from some other era. Her heels click as she walked towards him.
"You are an amazing, stunningly beautiful woman Ainsley Hayes." He watches her as she tosses her hair over her shoulder and blushes.
"Thank you." He feels her sweep over him. "I'm not sure I do justice to the gorgeous Sam Seaborn though."
He laughs and kisses her on the cheek, feeling the heat of her blush. "Nonsense. You far outshine me. Shall we go?" She nods and follows him out.
Its a short drive to the restaurant and she finds that fact merciful because the small enclosed space of the car and the humidity make his scent all the more intoxicating. She's much relieved when he opens the door and offers his arm. She shakes her head slightly, he's ever the gentleman.
Sam watches her pour over the dinner menu as he idly swirls the wine in his glass. She cocks her head to the side and a lock of blond hair falls over her shoulder. He almost chokes as flashes of a recent heated dream return to him. He has buried his hand in her hair as she works him with her mouth against one of the walls in the living room. He pulls her off himself and she leads him to the couch before she straddles him.
Sam takes a gulp of his wine and begins to recite the bill of rights in his head until the waiter comes to take their orders. He breathes a sigh of relief as the sudden flare of desire dissipates. He goes back to being his suave, mostly diplomatic self as he places his order.
Ainsley is throughly grounded against her bolt from the blue daydreams as she and Sam begin to talk shop. It isn't until the food arrives that she is completely disarmed. She watches as Sam washes his tika masala down with a sip of wine, making his adam's apple bob temptingly. He continues to talk about the latest UN diplomats vs. the city of New York and she is all but lost as she imagines him spread out beneath her, his beautiful hands gripping the sheets, panting heavily.
They both jump as their cell phones buzz. She fishes hers out of her clutch and glowers at it before she shoves it back from whence it came with more poignant irritation than he expected.
"Damn it!" Sam's eyes go wide as she swears. "I told those morons that the amendment would sink the bill." His eyebrows rise as she finishes her glass of wine.
"What happened?" He's hoping that she doesn't get worked into too much of a lather and go storming off to the congressional offices to shout at her colleagues.
"They seem to think that they can slip an amendment onto the Katrina Aid bill that completely negates President Santos' policy on explorative drilling and still get it passed." Ainsley stabs apiece of chicken.
Sam smiles slightly, enjoying her fire. "I read that amendment. I thought that Josh would throw a fit and advise Santos to veto."
She sighs. "He did. He's going to veto if they don't take the amendment off. They want me come in and help them fix it, but they can wait for Monday."