It Doesn't Go Away

by Mabis

Sam gets shot, and he's not the only one who suffers.

"Sam, can you hear me?"

Josh's voice was the first thing Sam was conscious of. The second thing was that he was in absurd amounts of pain, radiating from his chest. "Josh?" he barely whispered, not bothering to open his eyes.

"You're going to be okay. The bullet didn't hit anything major."

Bullet? Is that why his chest hurt so much? Slowly he opened his eyes and saw Josh hovering over him, somehow looking concerned and relieved at the same time. "What happened?"

"You were shot while you were speaking. Don't worry, no one else got hurt."

Sam tried to remember the event, but everything was too fuzzy. Even Josh was getting fuzzy.

"Now get some rest, I'll be..."

There was blackness as Sam drifted off again without hearing the rest of Josh's words.

"I'll be here when you wake up," Josh said, and gave Sam a light kiss on the cheek. He straightened and left the recovery room, following what he assumed was the surgeon who worked on Sam.

"How long before he wakes up again?" Josh asked.

"Several hours. We suggest you go home and get some rest, he won't be awake until late in the morning, at the earliest."

Josh wondered if he could even sleep.

"He's in the best hands possible. We'll let you know if anything happens during the night."

Finally Josh nodded, and allowed himself to be escorted to the presidential limo and driven back to the Residence. Everything was still in a fog from when he first heard the news, and the only thought he had was about Sam being okay.

Josh didn't even remember who he was yelling at when he was notified that the President had been shot. Immediately panic hit, and the world started melting away. A shot to the chest. Josh grabbed at his own gunshot scar. He was rushed to the hospital where Sam was, and was given an update of the situation. A grazed lung, a broken shoulder blade, expected to make a full recovery. It was only then that Josh was able to breathe normally. He stayed in the waiting room, unwilling to see Sam while he was in surgery. It brought up too many memories of his own shooting. So there he sat, lost in a fog and only able to repeat the thought that Sam was going to be okay. Toby came by a short time later, offering words of encouragement, but Josh barely heard them.

Finally someone in scrubs and a mask came out and announced that Sam was out of surgery and Josh could see him. Relief poured in as Josh got up and followed the person in scrubs to the recovery room.

The second time Sam woke up, Josh was there, sitting in a chair next to his hospital bed and smiling at him. It was light out, but Sam couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon. His chest hurt terribly, and while he knew he had been shot, everything else was a blur.

"Hey Sam, you awake?" Josh asked, gently stroking Sam's hand.

"Barely," Sam managed to croak out.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot in the chest. What time is it?"

"Almost noon. You've been sleeping for a while."

"Yet I still fell like crap."

Josh smiled at that. "I should let the doctors know you're awake. They'll tell you what's going on." He then pressed a button on the side of Sam's bed.

"Do they know who did this?"

"Yeah, they got the shooter, and they were able to link him to a white nationalist group. I hear they were able to round up everyone they wanted."

"Good."

Just then someone came into the room, and introduced himself as the leader of Sam's surgical team. He explained how the bullet nicked Sam's lung and shattered his shoulder blade, what went on during the surgery, and that he should make a full recovery. Meanwhile, Sam could only nod in reply. It didn't sound so bad, nothing like Josh's gunshot wound, but it still hurt.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Sam asked once the doctor left. Josh looked completely exhausted, but his shirt didn't look wrinkled.

Josh rubbed his face. "They dragged me back to the Residence, but I couldn't sleep."

"How long have you been here?"

"Since early this morning."

"You need to get some sleep, you look like crap."

"I'm fine."

Sam wanted to say something about Josh not being fine, but figured that might lead to an argument, and he was way too tired for any kind of conflict. So they sat in silence for while.

"So who's running the country?" Sam finally asked.

"Technically you still are, but as you can imagine most things have been put on hold. Toby is taking care of everything else."

"Hopefully I won't be out of commission for very long."

"Don't worry about that, just focus on getting better."

Sam wondered how many times he would hear that phrase. He was also getting awfully tired, and figured it was time for a nap. "I'm starting to nod off, so why don't you go and get some sleep."

Josh hesitated. "How about if I fall asleep in this chair."

"Deal." Sam knew this was as good as he could get. He closed his eyes, and before he knew it he was asleep.

When Sam awoke it was still daylight out, and Josh was still in the chair next to him, this time drinking coffee and staring into space. Looking at the clock, he had been sleeping for several hours. Sam assumed he was the only one who got any sleep, despite what Josh promised. Sam also assumed that any conversation about it would result in Josh brushing him off with a 'Don't worry about me.'

"Josh?" Sam asked, startling Josh.

Josh blinked before answering, like he had been half asleep. "Yeah?"

"I'm having second thoughts about running in the California 47th."

There was a flash of horror on Josh's face before he smiled.

Sam inwardly sighed. Josh's perchance for blaming himself for everything was in full force. "You have to know I don't blame you for this."

"But I did bully you into running."

"No, you bullied me into running in the 47th. I was going to run either way, probably a state office."

"State office would've been a waste of time and you knew it."

"Yeah, but either way I would've ended up right here."

Josh tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. "I get it, it's not my fault."

Sam knew Josh was just saying that to get out of the conversation, but he didn't have the strength to put up any resistance. Not yet, anyway. Once again they lapsed into a comfortable silence, Josh gently holding Sam's hand.

Eventually Toby came in, looking only slightly less tired than Josh. "I can't believe this is the second time I'm visiting the President in a hospital room because he was shot."

Sam gave him a smile. Sometimes Toby's usual dourness was just the thing to lift his spirits. "Nice to see you too, Toby."

"How are you feeling?"

"The doctors say I'm recovering nicely, but personally I'm feeling the opposite of nice. How are things outside this hospital room?"

"Everything is pretty much at a standstill while you both are here. There's a vigil outside praying for your speedy recovery, and we should really think about a public appearance of some kind to show you're still alive."

"They're transferring Sam to Walter Reed tomorrow, so that'll be a good opportunity for some photos," Josh replied.

Sam cringed at the thought of having to face the public in his state. "Just as long as I don't have to talk to anyone. Although I'm not looking forward to the world seeing me in my pajamas."

Josh gently patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"Unless there's anything else," Toby said, getting ready to leave, "I better get back there to make sure nothing else goes wrong."

"Is me getting shot the thing that went wrong in the first place?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Yeah, that was a bummer for me too."

"I'll be back tomorrow unless things go crazy," Toby said as he left, shutting the door on the way out.

"See, Toby cares." Sam said once they were alone.

Josh smiled. "You should've seen him when you were in surgery. I knew he had a heart buried in there somewhere."

The two once again fell back to silence, but this time Sam soon felt himself nodding off.

"Get some sleep if you need it," Josh said, giving Sam a soft peck on the cheek. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Sam didn't doubt that for a second.

When Sam woke up the next day, Josh was still sitting next to him. He looked much better in a clean shirt and the dark circles under his eyes gone, indicating he did actually leave Sam's bedside at some point during the night.

"Hey, I see you finally got some sleep last night,"

"Yeah I did. How are you doing?"

"My chest still hurts in ways I didn't think were possible, and I'm still stuck in this bed until further notice."

"So not the best morning. Anything I can do?"

"Yeah, get me some coffee. I don't even care if it's decaf."

Josh left the room for just a moment, and returned with a whole breakfast cart complete with several newspapers. That was followed by a nurse who checked Sam's vitals before leaving them alone in the room.

"Want to read about your recovery?" Josh asked as he gave Sam his cup of decaffeinated coffee.

Sam took the cup and sipped before answering. "Not especially. And everything else I'll be briefed on later. Maybe the sports world hasn't completely stopped in its tracks."

Josh handed him the sports section of the Post, and the two had a quiet breakfast together, almost as if everything was back to normal.

The rest of the morning was full of briefings, just as Sam had predicted. He got updated on the case against the suspects, how the FBI was untangling the web of connections those suspects had, what was going on in the rest of the country, and even the rest of the world. Sam figured between him and Josh, they would remember most of the important stuff. Everything else was just too much for him to handle in his state.

Once everyone was gone, Josh gently patted Sam on the arm. "Don't worry about any of that stuff, I got most of it."

Sam let out a sigh. "It would actually be easier on me if I could just read the briefings."

"Then we'll switch to that, no problem."

"Thanks."

"And I'll talk to the doctors and insist on cutting back on the briefings."

"You don't have to go that far."

"Are you kidding me? You're in no condition to absorb that amount of information. You just got your basic morning update and you look exhausted."

Josh was right. Sam could barely remember anything from the torrent of information that was just fed to him. "Okay, light workload from now on. Although the backlog is going to be hell for a while."

"Don't worry about it. Tomorrow I'll probably go back to the office, get as much done as I can over there before coming back here."

"I'm amazed you haven't gone back already."

"And miss a chance to dote on you? Fat chance of that happening."

Sam paused for a moment. He didn't want to bring it up, but he had to. "This may sound stupid, but I'm concerned about the crowd that'll be there during my transfer."

"Concerned? How?"

"I don't know, maybe I'll get shot again. Maybe the public won't like to see a President being in a wheelchair. Maybe I'll accidentally flash my underwear."

"Don't worry about it, I can make sure no one gets within a mile of you if you want."

"Thanks."

The transfer to Walter Reed went smoothly, and the small army of reporters and cameras waiting outside were kept far away from Sam. Meanwhile, Sam did his best to ignore it all, focusing on letting himself be wheeled out of the hospital, into the ambulance, and into his new hospital room. The room itself did not look like a hospital room. It looked like a room in the White House Residence, just with a medical bed and other medical equipment on one side. The walls were a dark red, with a painting hanging on each one. There was even chairs and a couch surrounding a coffee table, complete with fresh flowers.

"How Presidential," Sam said once he was settled into the hospital bed.

Josh pulled up a chair so he could sit next to Sam. "I'm pretty sure you can direct world war three from here."

"The doctors said no world wars until tomorrow."

Josh smiled at that. "So how are you feeling?"

"My chest is still hurting, and right now a nap sounds great."

"Must be all that excitement. I can stay here if you want."

"If you want."

"I'll ask for some coffee, you want anything?"

Sam shook his head, and Josh left the room as Sam closed his eyes and waited for sleep to overcome him.

That night, after Josh went back to the Residence, Sam finally allowed himself to try and remember what he could about the shooting. It was outside, around ten in the morning, and he was speaking to a labor union. He couldn't remember which one, though. It wasn't a long speech, and he was almost done. Then came a loud bang, and suddenly he felt the worst pain in his life. Everything was a blur after that. There was so much blood, and all he could think about was when Josh was shot. Where was Josh? Had he been shot again? It didn't make any sense, that he was hurting so much and Josh was the one who was shot. Then he realized he had been shot. He could feel the panic rise up inside him, and for the first time he registered the screaming crowd. He told himself to stay awake, but then he wondered why he needed to stay awake, and he let himself pass out.

Sam opened his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to relax himself. It was still too real. He wished Josh was there, but he wouldn't be back until tomorrow afternoon. Getting to sleep seemed like an impossible task, but the events of the day wore Sam out enough that he was asleep before he knew it.

"I want to thank all my well-wishers, your thoughts and prayers are appreciated and-"

Sam paused. He couldn't really say they were giving him strength, or even helping him recover. Then again, maybe they were just being canceled out by all the people who wished him ill. He should get the Secret Service on that, block out all the negative energy coming from all the people who didn't like him.

Leaning back, Sam let out a sigh. He was writing a speech that would never see the light of day. It was about the only thing he could do, with Josh and the doctors heavily restricting his workload. Which was fine when he spent most of the day asleep, but now that he was awake it was driving him crazy.

There was another reason he was writing speeches and delivering them to his empty room. Deep down, he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to speak in front of large crowds without being reminded of the searing pain in his chest. With Josh, it was loud music that triggered the flashbacks. What would it be with him? Podiums? Bright lights? Maybe if he kept on speaking, even to an empty room, it wouldn't be that.

Thus, back to his speech to the couch. Sam crossed out the first line and started again. "I want to thank everyone who wished for my speedy recovery, I am doing well and will soon be back to work as President of this great nation."

"Are we done here?"

"Yes, Mr. First Gentleman," the chorus in the room sounded. The group filed out of the room, leaving Josh and Toby alone in the Oval Office.

Josh got up and started putting folders in his briefcase. "I need to get to the hospital, I told Sam I'd be there an hour ago. Make sure he got the intelligence briefings from this morning."

"Aren't you just going to give him the highlights anyway?" Toby asked.

"Yeah, but he reads some of the stuff. He's still President, after all."

"One who's still recovering from a gunshot wound."

Josh sighed and turned towards Toby. "I know, I'm trying my best to filter out what's not important, but he says he's fine enough to read briefings."

"What do his doctors say?"

"That he's fine for light work, nothing too stressful."

"Like being President isn't stressful enough as it is."

Josh made his way to the limo that would take him to the hospital, and made sure he was alone during the short ride over. He wanted to sort out his thoughts.

The truth was, he had no idea how much Sam could handle. He wanted to be on the cautious side, but there was just so much to do. Plus, Sam was getting bored and moody being stuck in the hospital. Josh remembered his own time in the hospital after getting shot. It was agonizing, and not just from the pain. Everyone around him would tell him to stop worrying about work and focus on getting better. Which he was forced to do, as his bosses would only dole out the occasional pity assignment he could do in his sleep.

Now there was no boss to monitor how much work Sam could do. Only Josh could restrict his work load with any sort of authority. The doctors and Toby helped, but technically Sam could order them around if he was in a bad enough mood. That hadn't happened yet, but Josh got the feeling it was close.

"How are you doing today?" Josh said as he entered the room.

Sam couldn't help but smile at the sight of his husband. "I'm more awake than I was yesterday, and I'm only in terrible pain instead of excruciating pain."

Josh smiled and leaned over to give Sam a kiss. "Sounds great. Did you get the briefings from this morning?"

"Yeah, just now, though, I haven't had a chance to read them."

"I can give you the highlights if you want."

"That's fine, it'll give me something to do this afternoon."

"That's a lot of reading, you know."

"I got a lot of time on my hands."

Josh looked concerned, but relented. "Okay, just don't push yourself too hard."

Sam was about to say something about being fine, but he swallowed it. Josh was under so much stress already from all of the work he was doing, he didn't want to add to it by being cranky. "How was your morning?" he asked instead.

"Nothing too bad. I'm slowly making progress on the backlog. What have you been up to?"

"Writing speeches no one will hear." Sam held up a notepad that had his hand-written speech on it. "This one is about thanking my well-wishers."

"I can listen to them if you want."

"That's okay, the chairs have been a wonderful audience so far. Besides, I should get going on more important things."

Josh got out some folders from his briefcase. "In that case, here's a stack of papers for you to sign," he said, handing them to Sam.

Sam took them and began signing his name, eager to get to work. The more he did, the less Josh had to do.

Sam was mostly done reading his morning briefings after an hour, and was promptly bored. Also annoyed, because here he was with nothing to do while Josh was working himself to concerning levels trying to get everything done. Light work didn't mean no work, after all. Sighing, Sam asked for the list of people who personally called to wish him well. Maybe he could be a little social this morning.

He looked at the very long list of people and soon became overwhelmed. He thought he could return a few calls, but didn't expect there to be so many. There was most of congress, ambassadors, people from his administration, people from the Bartlet administration, world leaders, and Sam stopped reading. That was aside from the countless flowers and cards the hospital had gotten, which he was more than happy to let the social secretary's office deal with. Deciding that being overwhelmed was bad for his health, Sam took up a briefing folder he hadn't gotten to yet and started reading that instead. At least the status of the world wheat production was something he could deal with.

About an hour later a nurse came in. "Sir, President Bartlet is here to see you."

Now that was a surprise. "Send him in, " Sam ordered. He wasn't really up for actual visitors, but when the former President of the United States stops by, Sam figured he should at least say hello to his former boss.

"Well, hello there, Mr. President," Jed said as he entered the hospital room.

Sam was about to sit up straight before he realized he didn't have to. It was a feeling he didn't think he'd ever get rid of. "Hello, Mr. President."

"Sam, you know you don't have to call me that anymore. Jed is fine, even preferable."

"Old habits are hard to break."

"Now, when I said you'd follow in my footsteps, that didn't mean you had to get shot."

"At least it wasn't Josh again."

"How's he holding up?"

"He's..." Sam paused. Josh was trying to run the country on his behalf, while simultaneously trying to be at his bedside as much as possible. On top of that, Sam knew Josh was feeling guilty about the shooting, but refusing to deal with it. "You should talk to him."

"That good, huh?"

"Remind him the last time he didn't talk to someone about a shooting he blew up at the worst possible moment."

Jed nodded. "How are you doing?"

"When I'm not drugged to oblivion I'm experiencing excruciating pain in my chest, I'm so bored I'm writing speeches to furniture, and I'm hooked up to more machines than I knew possible. Other than that I'm great."

That got a small laugh. "The doctors say you're doing great, though. Pretty soon you'll be out of here and back to work, maybe even tomorrow."

"Even tomorrow isn't soon enough, really. Just sitting here all day is making me go crazy. I know Josh is concerned about my recovery and doesn't want me to overexert myself, but he doesn't have to do everything himself."

"What's he doing?"

"He's basically shoving the entire day into mornings, then he sees me in the afternoon and usually we go over the highlights of that morning."

"And he picks out what constitutes as a highlight."

"Pretty much."

"Abbey did a lot of limiting when I got shot, so I know how it feels. Just remember, they're looking out for you."

Sam wondered if that was true. Josh was working so hard it was like he was trying to run away from something. Something like crushing guilt over the shooting.

Jed continued. "Anyway, I never really got the chance to tell you how good a job you and Josh are doing. You're going gung-ho in ways I never did."

"Thank you."

"You know, when Leo told me what role Josh would be playing, I wasn't sure how well that would work out. Turns out it was the best decision you two made."

"That's about what Leo said."

"You always worked well together, especially when Leo had his heart attack. It was chaos for a while, but everyone stepped up and we got through it."

"It was a tough time for all of us."

"I should let you get your rest. Tell Josh I want to see him before I go."

"Thanks for stopping by."

It was outside the door that Josh ran into the former President.

"How are you holding up?" Jed asked.

"A little tired, but nothing I haven't been through before."

"Sam is worried about you, you know."

"He shouldn't worry about me, I'm fine."

"He thinks you're holding on to something and not letting it out."

"He's just saying that because I'm working so hard so he can recover without worrying about the job. He probably feels guilty over that."

Jed nodded. "So you doing both his job and your own job in the space of a morning is just your way of helping him."

"Absolutely. He did so much for me when I got shot, and I'd do anything for him. Anything at all."

"Then tell him that. He thinks you're about to blow up at some poor staffer."

"I will."

"And you're not feeling guilty for getting Sam shot?"

Josh froze. "He told you that?"

"Not in so many words."

"Well, I'm not."

Jed nodded. "I think you two better have a long, heart-felt discussion about feeling guilty sooner rather than later."

"We will, thanks for visiting."

Josh walked into the room, holding some files and his briefcase. "Hey Sam, I just ran into the President, well, former President-"

"He actually prefers to be called Jed now, since we're both Presidents and all."

"Well, that's going to be weird."

"That's what I said. Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah, we said hello. How was your visit with him?"

Sam didn't think it was just a simple hello between Josh and the former President, but he let it pass. "It went well, he congratulated us for what we're doing so far."

"Great. Now let's give him more things to be proud of." Josh took out a small stack of folders and handed them to Sam. "These are for you to sign, then I have the morning briefings here if you want them. I know you got some of them already, but there's been some updates between now and then."

Sam took the folders and nearly groaned at Josh's quick jump into work, more so than usual. Knowing he wouldn't get anywhere when Josh was in this kind of mood, Sam opened up the first folder, took the pen Josh offered, and signed his name. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

The next afternoon Josh surprised Sam by not jumping directly into work.

"I think we need to talk," Josh said, putting his briefcase down on the chair nearest to Sam.

"About what?"

"This shooting, you recovering, all of it."

Sam nodded. "I agree."

"Yesterday President Bartlet he said that you're worried about me. I wish you wouldn't be."

"You're working so hard, how can I not? Makes me think you're trying to hide from something."

"I'm not, I'm just making sure you don't have to worry about anything besides getting better. You don't need to feel guilty about me working so hard."

"Is that what you think is happening?"

"Isn't it?"

Sam paused, thinking about it. Maybe he did feel guilty. Maybe he was projecting his own guilt onto Josh, or whatever the term was. He had just been through an incredibly traumatic event, and he knew very, very well how screwed up emotions could get when faced with such trauma. "I don't know," he finally said. "All I know is that you look exhausted every time I see you, and I hate seeing you like that."

Josh came over and gently hugged him. "I'm sorry I'm causing you stress. I promise to cut back on the workload if you promise to stop worrying about me."

Sam hugged him as best he could without aggravating his injuries. "Promise me you won't blow up at someone because you're bottling something up."

"I'm not bottling anything up."

"Then tell me you don't feel guilty for me getting shot."

"I know it's not my fault. We've gone over this before, remember?"

"I remember the look on your face when I first brought it up."

"I got over that."

Sam didn't believe that for a second, but he also knew Josh was being a stubborn ass about it and further discussion would be useless. Time to move on. "I'm really going to need therapy when I get out of here," he said, letting Josh know he was off the hook.

Josh looked at him with surprise. "Why, something happen?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I did just suffer a traumatic event."

"Not everyone who gets shot gets PTSD. I almost died, your life was never in serious jeopardy."

"If that bullet was a few inches to the right, I would've been dead."

"But it wasn't, so just focus on that."

Sam sighed. "That's a lot easier said than done."

"Have you tried thinking about the shooting?"

"Once, while you were gone. I remembered almost everything, and it wasn't very pleasant. Why are you asking?"

"Because there's a difference between remembering and reliving. I was reliving it, maybe you can just remember it."

"How can you tell?"

Josh shrugged. "One you can stop, the other you can't. Or at least that's what they told me."

Sam quietly nodded. He had no idea what he was doing that night, reliving or remembering. He could stop the actual remembering, but not the feelings that came with it.

"Anyway, you'll be fine. If not, I just happen to be an expert on getting shot in the line of duty."

"Always good to have an expert on hand."

Josh opened his briefcase and took out a small stack of files. "Here's the stuff that need your signature, and

Sam took the folders and began signing his name, but his mind was still on their conversation. Grievances were aired, but it was like nothing really got resolved. He was still concerned about PTSD, and Josh's problems might never get resolved at this rate. Maybe things just took time, like his physical recovery. Letting out a mental sigh, Sam put all of it out of his mind and concentrated on running the country.

The next day was finally the day that Sam would be discharged from the hospital and allowed back to the Residency, and he couldn't be happier.

"Ready to face the world?" Josh asked, patting Sam on the arm. They were in the hospital room for the last time, and both of them couldn't wait to say goodbye to it.

Sam, dressed in a sweat suit, sat in the wheelchair that would carry him out of the hospital and into the limo. "I guess this is my first test to see how well I do in crowds."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. All the crowds are far enough away so you won't feel pressured by them."

"Just make sure there aren't any loud noises when I come out." Sam nodded at the nurse pushing his wheelchair, and they were away.

Once they were outside, Sam smiled and waved to the crowd as he was transported to the limo. They didn't stop to give any kind of statement or answer any questions, as was decided beforehand. Sam just wasn't up for it, not yet anyway. He was still anxious about speaking in front of large groups, something he would eventually have to do again.

"I can't wait to get back to normal," Sam said once they were in the limo.

"It won't exactly be normal for a while, you still have a light schedule."

"Yes, but at least I'm out of the hospital."

"To which I am eternally grateful for." Josh leaned over and gave Sam a long kiss.

"Is that a taste of things to come?"

Josh let out a little smirk. "We'll see."

"Although I should probably clear it with the doctors."

"Yeah, all that heavy breathing, better make sure your lungs are up for it." Josh put his hand on Sam's thigh and started rubbing.

"You're incorrigible," Sam said as he pushed Josh away. "People can see through the windows, you know."

"And they'll see a happy President who isn't freaking out about the crowds lining the street."

Sam looked out the window and sure enough, there were groups of people along the route. It wasn't huge groups of people, but it was the first time he was out in public, with all that entailed. "You could've distracted me some other way."

"Yeah, but this way is so much more fun."

Sam just shook his head and waved to the people lining the streets.

The rest of the ride to the Residence was uneventful, and when they got there Toby was there waiting for them.

"You'll have your daily briefings, then there's a lot of people who want to wish you well in person. Take as many as you want, and that's all that we have scheduled today,"
Toby said once Sam was out of the limo.

Sam supposed he should be grateful for all the support, but all he really wanted to do was relax and enjoy not being in the hospital.

Josh seemed to pick up on Sam's reluctance. "Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time to do absolutely nothing together. We can take the whole afternoon off if you want."

"You sure?"

"Weren't you the one complaining I was working too hard?"

"That's true. Okay Toby, we're taking the afternoon and evening off. You should too."

"Someone has to run the country while you two slack off," Toby said in his best long-suffering tone.

Toby left for the day just a few hours after lunch.

The next day was back to their usual routine, much to Sam's relief. He and Josh woke up next to each other in the same bed, walked down to the West Wing together, and Josh even stuck around for the morning briefings. The rest of the day was normal, albeit a very slow one, and Sam couldn't be happier about it. Now, if only the rest of his brain realized that everything was fine, that would be great.

It would be the first public speaking event since Sam got shot over a week ago. It wasn't a large one, taking place in a small hospital auditorium, but enough to give Sam some trepidation about the whole thing. He would be giving a short speech to a group of nurses, thanking the entire profession for his care at the hospital. Josh insisted he be there, and Sam was more than a little grateful for the support.

"How are you feeling?" Josh asked once Sam was off the stage.

Sam let out a little sigh. "When I first got up there I was reminded of the shooting, but otherwise I feel fine."

"Yeah, you flinched a little at the start."

"I didn't notice."

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure a little flinching is normal, this being your first time in front of people."

"Speaking in front of people, specifically, with a podium and everything."

"See, nothing to worry about, you're doing great."

Sam wasn't entirely convinced, but let it go. He didn't want to turn a little flinch into a big deal. He hoped a little flinch wouldn't turn into a big deal.

That night Josh came to pick up Sam at a reasonable hour. Or rather an unreasonable hour, considering how much work there was still to be done.

"Is it my doctor-mandated bedtime already?" Sam asked as Josh walked up to his desk.

Josh stood in front of the desk, not bothering to sit down. "Yep, I'm taking you to the Residence and tucking you in for the night."

"And then you'll be back here finishing up until who knows when."

"Don't worry about it, this is me doting on you. Besides, next week you'll be back to your regular schedule, and then you'll wish you could go to bed this early."

"Fair enough."

The two left the Oval Office hand in hand and walked to their bedroom in the Residence. Once there, Josh kissed Sam goodnight.

"And don't stay up for me, that defeats the purpose."

"Yes, dear."

Josh came down from the Residence and went back to his own office. Sam was right, Josh would be working until late into the night. He didn't mind it, though, not when Sam was still recovering from being shot. In fact, he would gladly do anything if it helped Sam recover, absolutely anything at all. Maybe then the gnawing in his gut would go away. Until then, he was grateful that Sam was being accommodating towards the reduced workload. Josh knew if their positions had been reversed, he wouldn't be so accepting of a reduced schedule. He hated it when he was shot, after all.

Sam's next speech was a week later, and he actually requested as large an audience as possible. That would be his final test, he decided. If things went well, then he could put the whole issue to bed and assume he got lucky and didn't develop PTSD. Or at least it wasn't manifesting as fear of large crowds.

Sam gave his speech and felt the same burst of optimism and pride as he usually felt when he spoke to a large group of people. After he was done, he was escorted back to the limo with Toby by his side.

"How was I?" Sam asked Toby once they were in the limo.

Toby shrugged. "You were fine, same as usual."

"No subtle twitching or anything?"

"No."

"Then I guess I'm cured."

"Cured?"

"From the shooting."

"Dare I ask?"

"I'm not reliving the shooting when I speak in front of large groups of people."

"I would've thought you figured that out when you spoke to the nurses group."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe that wasn't enough people."

"So now you're convinced you don't have PTSD."

"Well, no, not entirely. It could still be triggered by something else."

"Have you tried loud noises?"

"I haven't heard anything loud enough to tell either way."

"How about that coffee cup you knocked over and it shattered on the floor?"

Sam waved his hand dismissively. "That wasn't anything, I just got a little startled, that's all."

"And you've been feeling okay since?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Then I'm pretty confident that you don't have PTSD."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're not holding anything in. You're taking about it with Josh and me whenever something comes up. When Josh got shot he held everything in until he couldn't anymore. You're like an open book, which is a lot healthier response to what you've been through. So yes, I'm confident that you won't be blowing up anytime soon."

Sam was silent for a moment. What Toby said made sense, after all. He hadn't felt stressed out, or on edge, or anything like that since he came home from the hospital. "So that's it then, I'm all better?" he finally asked.

"As much as one can be, I guess."

"You think Josh is all better now?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

Sam let out a sigh. "I keep on thinking there's something else he's keeping to himself, but he says he's fine."

Toby shrugged. "Maybe he is."

"Are you just saying that so this conversation can be over with?"

"Yes."

Sam smiled. "I love you too, Toby."

The rest of the trip was ridden in silence.

It was almost a month since the shooting, and everything was mostly back to normal. Sam was once again more busy than he thought possible, the Secret Service had called off the extra security due to the shooting, and Toby was back to being his seemingly uncaring self. Then there was Josh. He was acting more agitated, yelling at people more, sure signs that Josh was letting something eat away at him. Yet when Sam asked about it, Josh would swear everything was fine. It was frustrating, but Sam had no idea how to get Josh to open up and say what was wrong.

"You need to do something about Josh."

"I've tried, but every time I ask him he says he's fine."

"Have you tried being firm?"

"Yes, I've tried getting in his face, even brought up the broken window, but he still won't admit anything."

There was a pause as Toby scratched his head. "Let me talk to him."

"Be my guest."

"Josh, we need to talk."

Josh looked up and saw Toby standing in the doorway. "If it's about Miller, don't worry about it, I've got it covered."

Toby walked in and sat down in front of Josh's desk. "No, it's not about that. It's about you taking your frustrations out on the staff."

"When did I do that?"

"You're doing it right now. You know how many complains I've had about you?"

Josh frowned, he didn't think he was being more of a tyrant than usual. "A lot?"

"Something is obviously upsetting you, and the sooner you resolve it the better."

Immediately Josh's mood soured. Not this crap again, and from Toby, of all people. "I'm fine, there's nothing going on."

"Then why am I in here talking to you?"

"You said the staff was complaining. Tell them to get thicker skins."

Toby paused then leaned forward in his chair, speaking softly. "I know you think you got Sam shot. I am begging you to talk to him about it."

Josh looked at Toby, stunned. First of all, he had never seen Toby beg before, ever. Second, he used Sam's name instead of his didn't happen either. But how did Toby know what was buried so deep even Josh refused to admit it?

As Josh struggled with that, Toby got out of the chair and left the room, knowing there would not be any response.

Josh managed to get through the rest of the day, but he was distracted. He kept wondering how Toby knew about the guilt he was hiding, and why Toby was so insistent on him talking to Sam about it. Josh knew if everyone just left him alone he would be fine. Yeah, he had been a bit testy lately, but he'd be able to smooth that over. Sam was fine, he didn't have PTSD, the whole incident was over as far as Josh was concerned.

Thus, Josh was not looking forward to his usual routine of picking up Sam and going to the Residence together. Naturally Sam would ask about his discussion with Toby, and naturally Sam would want to talk about what came up.

"Can we just not have any discussions tonight?" Josh asked as he came up to Sam's desk. His best bet was to shut anything down before it could even start.

Sam looked up from his reading. "So Toby did talk to you."

"He said a few things, that's all."

"And you would rather make everyone around you miserable than talk about what was discussed."

"See, this is what I did not want to happen. I'm tired, it's been a long day, and I really don't want you to play therapist on top of all that."

"Okay, we can talk later."

Josh opened his mouth to argue before realizing what Sam said. "Okay?" he asked in disbelief.

"You don't want to talk, I'm too tired to force you, you're off the hook for today."

"For today? That implies you'll bring this up later."

"Don't worry about it. We're not having any discussions tonight, remember?"

"Okay."

The two clasped hands and walked to the Residence in silence.

The next day seemed less busy than usual, fewer meetings, not as many briefings to go through, no new emergencies. Josh made a mental note of it, but was too preoccupied by dread to really think about it. Sam was sure to bring up yesterday's discussion with Toby again, and Josh wondered if being too tired would work as an excuse for the second night in a row. Maybe he could schedule a very early meeting for the next day, thus necessitating going to bed earlier than usual.

Unfortunately, Sam came in before Josh could schedule that meeting.

"We're having a talk tonight."

"I can't, I have to-"

Sam cut him off. "You don't have anything, I made sure of it. Nor will you have anything, for that matter. And you can't be too tired, because your day was fairly light."

Josh let out a sigh of defeat. Determined Sam was a force of nature that even he didn't bother to mess with. Maybe he'd get lucky and Canada would invade before the end of the day. Short of that, they were going to have a talk. "Yeah, okay. See you when I'm done?"

"Nope, I'm picking you up early, which will give us plenty of time to discuss what we need to discuss."

Josh's dread increased tenfold as he watched Sam leave.

It was indeed earlier than usual when Josh got done with everything he needed to deal with that day. He was thinking about jumping into what needed to be dealt with tomorrow when Sam appeared in his doorway.

"All done?" Sam asked as he came in and stood in front of Josh's desk.

"What if I'm not?" Josh picked up a folder he just put down a minute ago and opened it up. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Then I will sit with you until you are done."

Josh sighed as he closed the folder and put it back on his desk. "Fine, let's get this over with." He stood up and followed Sam to the Residence, their hands linked more out of habit than of affection.

When they got to the bedroom, Sam dropped Josh's hand and turned to face him.

"What did Toby talk to you about?"

Josh ran a hand through his hair. This was not going to be fun. "He said that I was feeling guilty that you got shot, and that I should talk to you about it."

"Do you feel guilty about the shooting?"

"Of course I feel guilty! I got you shot!"

"But you didn't-"

"I'm the one who got you to run in the 47th, I'm the one who got you elected President, it's my fault!"

"What can I do to convince you that you don't have to feel guilty about this?"

Josh just shook his head and shrugged. He appreciated the that Sam was trying to help, but nothing would ever erase the guilt. He just had to live with it.

"Do you at least fell better telling me about it?"

"No." Josh paused before speaking again. "This is why I didn't want to bring it up. It doesn't go away, and talking about it just reminds me of it and makes it worse."

Sam looked a little hurt, but kept talking. "Didn't your trauma of being shot go away?"

"Not all of it. I still want to hide whenever I hear sirens, I still don't like loud music."

"But it got better."

"But it's still there."

"Then maybe the guilt will get better over time."

"Eventually it gets relegated to background noise."

"Until a well-intentioned but ultimately clueless husband brings it up and won't take no for an answer."

Finally Josh smiled. "Yeah, something like that."

"I'm sorry, I really thought I was doing something to help you."

"I know, and I do appreciate you trying to help, it's just…let me handle it myself."

"Okay, I won't bring it up again. But I'm here if you change you mind."

"Yeah."

"Come on, let's go to bed and get a good night's sleep for once."

"Oh, I don't know, I'm not that tired. I did have a light day, after all."

"Are you saying you need someone to tire you out?"

"Whatever you want."

"Good."

The next morning Josh felt better than he had in weeks, like he was finally free of something. Probably the dread of having to talk to Sam.

"Feel better?" Sam asked, and gave Josh a morning kiss.

"Yeah, actually."

"Probably because you finally told me what was going on in that wonderful brain of yours."

"I thought we agreed not to talk about it anymore."

"We aren't talking about it. We're talking about last night, which is still fair game."

"Touche. But still-"

"Consider it dropped. Anything important today?"

"Just the usual running of the country. You?"

"I was thinking of doing something nice for Toby, since he's been so great lately."

"Yeah, he's been stepping it up lately, anything in mind?"

"How about giving him a coffee mug that says something like world's best big brother on it?"

Josh let out a laugh. "That's perfect."

"Then that's what we'll do."

The two got out of bed and went about their usual routine for getting ready for the day.

Toby came into his office at the usual time that day, and discovered a small gift box on his desk. There was no note, nothing to indicate who sent it. Curious, he lifted the lid, and inside was a coffee mug with the words "#1 Big Brother" printed on the side.

"I'm never being nice to them again," he grumbled to himself.

He took the coffee mug to the nearest coffee machine and poured himself a cup. It was time to start the day.

Sam and Josh walked to the West Wing hand in hand, as was their usual routine.

"Now that a certain nightmare is over with, what's next in the Seaborn-Lyman administration?" Sam asked.

"The midterms are just around the corner, we should start thinking about that."

Sam didn't really want to think about the midterms. He knew Josh, the self-proclaimed dictator of the Democratic Party, would run himself ragged trying to manage all 468 races at once. "Just promise me that you won't kill yourself trying to keep the majority."

"I know how to delegate. Besides, the Senate should be safe, it's the House we need to really focus on."

"Okay, midterms it is." Sam squeezed Josh's hand, and listened as his husband listed the the districts that needed the most attention. It was a long list, and they would be impossibly busy the next few months, but Sam knew that together they would succeed.