Title: Forgive nor Forget
Summary: Sam angst/drama
Author: Nicole Rating: PG13 (Language, mostly)
Disclaimer: No money. I only wish they were mine...
"Sir? Sam's here."
"Thanks, Charlie." The president looked up from his desk and removed his glasses. "Give me a minute, ok?"
"Yes, sir." The door closed.
Leo walked in from his adjacent office. "Is he here, Mr. President?"
"Yeah. Leo... I don't think I should be here. You should tell him in your office. He'll be... it'll be more comfortable for him then."
"Sir, I can't- I don't know how to tell him. Besides... you took the call. It'll be first hand."
The president glanced at the clock. The number 1214 blinked at him, mocking him. Ha, time heckled. I go on. Ha.
"Josh on his way?"
"Yeah."
"Ok. Charlie?"
The door opened. "Yes, sir?"
"Send him in."
Sam walked in the office, his brow slightly quirked, his blue eyes sparkling with confusion. "Good evening, Mr. President."
Jed opened his mouth. Then closed it. Opened it again. "Sam, why- why don't you have a seat?"
Sam blinked. "Yes, sir." He walked to one of the couches, waiting for the president and Leo to be seated before he allowed himself to lower into the almost unfortable sofa.
Bartlet shot a look to Leo, his eyes pleading. Oh please don't make me do this. Please.
Oh bless Leo, his sympathetic heart.
"Sam... this is going to come as a shock."
"Leo, what's going on?"
"Sam," Leo's voice became so gentle, so sincere, so rawfully pained. "Your father had a massive heart attack about an hour ago. He died before the ambulence reached his apartment."
***Everything was getting bright, blurry even. Why was the room so white? Why was the president yelling at him? Oh, no. He did something wrong. Dad's gonna be mad...
"Samuel!" Jed yelled as the young man's eye widened and neck snapped, forcing his head to hang over the chair in an awkward manner.
A second later, wonderful Abbey, doctor Abbey rushed into the room. "I came as soon as I could-" She yanked a stethoscope out of her large tote bag, placing it on Sam's chest. Her eyes widened slightly. "Ok. Not good, but not horrible. God." She moved to pull the speechwriter to lay on his side on the sofa. "Jed, I want to move him to the residence-"
"Ok." The president replied, not blinking. "Abby, why did-"
She interrupted. (They had a habit of doing that to each other) "- he had quite the shock, Jed. He fainted. I'm going to put him up in the residence where I can keep an eye on him." She unwove Sam's expensive tie and unbuttoned the first four buttons of his dress shirt.
Just then, three secret service men entered, wheeling a gurney, followed by a breathless deputy chief of staff.
"Sam! What happened? Oh my God," Josh whispered as his darting eyes finally laid on his friend. Rushing to the other deputy, ignoring the first couple, he knelt next to the young man, rising as the bodyguards lifted his limp body unto the stretcher. Only when Bartlett laid a gentle hand on his shoulders did he rise (rather quickly) to his feet. "S-sir?"
"Sam's father had a heart attack, Josh." Leo explained gently. "...he died."
"Wha- Oh. Wow. Oh. God. Sam.....he hasn't talked to his Dad for months... but, wow."
"Yeah." Leo agreed softly. The bodyguards began to wheel the gurney out the room, the first lady at their heels.
"Josh, he's going to stay at the residence. My wife wants to watch him overnight."
"I... he can stay with me, sir. He wouldn't want to impose on you-"
"Josh. Sam stays."
"Yes, sir."
Leo sighed, undoing his own tie, dropping it on the chair. "Let's see how he's doing, huh? One of us should probably be there when he wakes up."
*******************
Josh sighed as he watched his friend sleep. He glanced at his watch. 254. Time laughed. Can't stop me. Muhahaha.
He ran a hand through his unruly hair. "C'mon, buddy. You gotta wake up sometime. Mrs. Bartlett said you'd come to conscienceness in less than four hours." He thought back to his own father's death. God. Thinking back, he was almost surprised he hadn't fainted then. He remembered what it felt like though. A hundred cold, strong hands gripping your heart. Not letting you breathe, but allowing millions of thoughts and emotions to overtake your body.
He felt another's presence before he heard its voice. "I can watch him, now."
Josh stood, gazing at his boss. Jed's eyes were bloodshot- obviously the consequence of being awake for almost 22 hours straight. He had changed into sweatpants and a- what else?- Nortre Dame sweatshirt, but his posture was straight, still commanding and almost intimidating, even in a jogger's outfit.
Josh nodded, leaving the room. Now was Jed's turn to stare at the deputy. Sam's dress shirt had also been removed, only a white muscleshirt/undershirt clothed his steadily rising and falling chest. Belt, socks and shoes gone; only his boxers remained, but were covered under a soft comforter that reached his hip.
325. Jed rubbed his eyes, almost about to fall into oblivion when he heard a coughing sound come from the bed. Jed almost smiled in relief as Sam's blue eyes blinked for almost a minute, adjusting to awakeness.
Sam turned his head, his eyes widening as he saw who was sitting next to the king size bed. His lips parted and he almost instantly sat up, wobbling slightly. "Sir-"
"Sam, for god sakes. Lay back down."
Sam bit his lip, now fully conscience, but allowed himself to lean against the mountain of pillows against the headboard, his body at a 70 degree angle.
"Sam, do you... remember what happened?" Jed asked cautiously.
Sam nodded slowly, speaking as the memories returned in a flash. He whispered, "Yes, sir." A bit louder. "I... I fainted?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." He swallowed, suddenly becoming aware of his clothing- or rather, lack of. He yanked the comforter up to his waist. He swallowed again. Why was his mouth so bitter tasting? "I.... I just can't.... God, I don't know what to think."
Jed sighed, moving the chair so he was facing his guest. "Sam, I'm really sorry you had to find out like you did. I mean- this must be so hard for you right now. I know you're confused, scared, angry, hurt-"
"The bastard cheated on my mother."
Jed blinked. Yeah, he wasn't expecting *that.* "I... I know."
"Honor thy father, right? But that was my mother. I'd die for her, you know. For twenty-seven years. He cheated on her." Sam raised his eyes to meet Batlett's. "I hate him. I hate him. *Hate* him!" He was shouting now, his fist smashing into the matress, his muscle contracting.
Abby opened the door, obviously concerned, but Jed shook his head and the door closed before Sam was aware of her.
"He *cheated* on us! He had another *family.*" His voice dropped to a whisper, trembling. "....so why does it hurt so much?" A tear slid from his right eye.
"Oh, Sam." Jed whispered, his fatherly instincts taking over.
The younger man's body began to shake, and tears streamed after tears, cries of mourning escaping his mouth before he covered it with his hand.
Jed grasped his other hand, squeezing it while murmuring soft sounds under his breath. "It'll be ok. I promise. It'll be ok."
After a mintue, Sam suddenly yanked his hand from the president and flung his legs over the tall bed, sliding to his feet. Seeing his pants flung over a chair, he retrieved them, turned his back and yanked them on. "Well, " he started, his back still turned. "I'm going to go to my home. Obvisouly...I need to." Turning around, his eyes wide, his face tear stained. "please- sir?"
Jed cursed his job. Yes, he loved it, so much of it. Helping people, protecting the constitution: that was his justification. But being of a position that forced others to change their decorum- he'll never get used to that. Almost a king. Yeah. Great.
Jed nodded. "Hey guys," He beckoned loudly. "Come on in. I know you're all there."
Sheepishly, Abby, Leo, and Josh shuffled into the room. Sam blinked. He buckled his belt, his hands trembling violently.
Abby approached him first. "Sam, I'm so sorry."
Sam lowered his eyes. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Oh, Sam." She touched his cheek, and his eyes slowly rose to meet hers. "You take care. Josh'll take you home. Ok?"
"Y-yes. Ma'am." Sam replied, his voice soft. What had he done to deserve the kindness of these people?
The first lady nodded and left the room quickly, her own tears threatening to fall.
"I'll go get the car. Can I use your entrance, Mr. Presi-"
"Sure. I can have Bill get it-"
"I'll go." With a shaking smile to his friend, he left to retrieve the car. He hoped Sam understood that he needed a minute to pull himself together. Seeing his friend standing there in the residence, and god- it looked like he'd been crying. He'd only seen Sam cry once.
Sam pulled on his socks and his dress shirt, not bothering to button it.
"He was really worried about you, you know?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, Leo. I know. He shoved his feet into his black, leather shoes, bending to one knee to tie his left lace. However, his hands were trembling so badly he could barely grasp the laces. Flustered, he stood, surrendering.
To his surprise, Leo walked to him and knelt before him, outstretching his arms.
Humiliated, Sam choked, "Leo, please- you don't have to do that."
"You wanna trip? Abby'd kill me if she found out the second she let you out of her care, I'd let you tumble down the Roosevelt stairway."
Sam bit his lip, but allowed the chief of staff to tie his shoelaces. Leo rose, finally, and placed a hand on a blushing Sam's arm. "I got off the phone with your mother a couple hours ago. Apparently, she hadn't been told yet. She's...."
"Jesus. I need to call her."
"You can't right now. You remember she was in China on business? Well, she's on a plane to Illinois. The funeral is day after tomorrow at the St. Paul Cathedral in Oakland."
"I'm not going-"
"Sam, I know you're hurt. And still angry. But if anything, you have to be there for your mother," Jed reasoned.
Sam lowered his gaze. "Of coure. You're right."
"Josh is going to go, also. Your plane leaves tomorrow at noon."
Timothy, a burly looking bodyguard, knocked lightly on the open doorframe. "Sir, Mr. Seaborn's car is-"
Sam blanched. "Sam," he whispered.
The guard glanced at the deputy. "I'm sorry, Mr. Seaborne?"
"Don't call me that. Please. Not tonight."
"Yes, sir."
Embarrassed slightly, he turned to the president. "Sir- I...."
"You just get through this. You take care of yourself, understand me?"
Sam nodded, his eyes blurring from unshed tears. How he loved this man. Thank God for Jed Bartlett.
"Yes, sir"
With that, Leo and the deputy left the room, walking the short distance to the private driveway. Before they stepped out the glass doors, Sam turned to Leo.
"Leo... do you.... think I'm being insane? Not wanting to go to my own father's funeral?" His voice quavered, switching octaves.
"I think you're scared. And angry at unfinished business. But, no- you're not crazy at all." Leo reached out to put a hand on Sam's upper arm. "You scared the shit out of us earlier. "
"Yeah. I'm-- I'm sorry- I-"
Chastened, Leo shook his head. "No. You just remember you have so many people who-" he paused, then continued quietly, "care about you. And you don't ever forget that when you're in Chicago. No matter what happens, you don't forget that. Okay?"
Sam allowed a few glorious tears to escape as his heart tightened. "Yes, sir."
The ride to Sam's condo was long. Josh drove slower than usual, his mind mainly on his best friend's ordeal.
"Hey, Josh?"
"Yeah?" Josh looked over breifly, surprised. Sam hadn't spoken since they left the residence about ten minutes earlier.
"I might want to get home before *I* die."
Josh chuckled ruefully. "Sorry." He pressed the accelerator a bit harder.
*********
Josh unlocked the door because Sam's hands were still trembling too much to be useful. The two men entered the apartment slowly, the energy pratically drained from each.
"There's, um, blankets in the hall-"
"I'll be fine. Don't worry about anything," Josh interrupted. "Go to bed, ok?"
"Uh huh."
Josh watched as his friend entered his bedroom and collapsed unto the bed, into a restless sleep.
*************
"Sam, I need to tell you something."
"Mom, are you okay? Is Dad-"
"No, Samuel." Something was definetly wrong. "Dad is not okay."
"What-"
"Are you sitting down?"
A stifled gasp. Some muffled movement. "Yes."
"Your father is well, physically."
A relieved sigh. "Jesus, pratically gave me a heart attack, Mom."
"Sam, your father has been having an.... an.... afair. For twenty-seven years."
Now he was in an airport. Running to a balding, decently attractive older man, Sam shouts, "You asshole! Fucking bigot!" He pulls out a .32 revolver and fires the trigger.
The man laughs, blood streaming down his face, a bullet hole where an eye should be. "You can't kill me, boy. You see, I' m already dead."
*******
Sam awakens with a gasp, panting heavily. He puts his hand over his forehead. His cheeks feel damp. He curses, realizing he must have been crying. Rolling over, he sees that it's almost eight twenty. He forces himself to roll out of bed, and- fully clothed- he shuffles into the bathroom.
He rips off his clothing, not bothering to toss them remotely near the hamper. He twists the "hot" nozzle hard, and steps into the shower, relishing the feelings of warmth.
When he returns to his room, dressed in a robe, he notices a packed suitcase sitting on his bed. He blinks, then realizes what's happening today. Today they go to Chicago. Tomorrow, the funeral. He bites his lip, tries to gain control of his emotions, and goes to his closet to change.
*********
Josh is sitting at his kitchen's table.
"Morning, Sam." Josh stands and pours his friend a cup of coffee as said friend enters the room dressed in khakis and a blue polo.
Sam accepts the coffee gratefully, gulping the warm fluid. "Thanks."
"Did you sleep?"
"Yeah."
"I heard you shouting.... about an hour ago. I was going to wake you up, but by the time I got to your room-"
"Yeah, I was having a nightmare."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Ok."
************
The two men left for the airport a few minutes later. Another hour and they were sitting in the isolated, deserted first class section of American Airlines flight 234. Sam watched as Josh handed the stewardess (excuse me, flight attendent) a bill and some instructions. Josh sat in the seat facing Sam's.
"It's going to be a three hour flight."
"Good."
"Do you want to call your mother? Cindy there says we can use the seat phones at anytime."
"No. I need to see her first." Sam replied matter-of-factly.
"Sam-"
"Drop it." Harsh.
"Alright," came the soft reply.
"Josh," Sam said gently. "I'm-"
"I understand."
***********
The plane landed four and half hours later. Something about turbulence, scheduling mistakes or infected chocolate.
The two men walked out of busy, hellish O'Hare airport, stopping breifly at the bag claim and rent-a-car booth. Josh lifted both suitcases into a black 98 Toyota Corolla, and stepped into the driver's seat.
"I shoulda been a taxi driver," came Josh's pathetic attempt to lighten the situation.
"Whatever, Josh." Sam replied. His heart was wound too tightly and he feared that a chuckle, gasp, or tear could send him apart, the pieces so scattered and broken they'd never fit together again.
**********
Sam stood in the cold, Chicagoland cemetary as horns blared in the distance.
A car crash.
He chuclked wryly.
Somebody's going to emergency......
He shook his head slightly, dissolved was the breif daydream. Josh and he stood in the front of the small crowd gathered before the plot. Josh had his arm around his friend's back (in a stricktly manly way, of course) while Sam held his mother's hand tightly.
Diane Seaborne squeezed her son's hand, three times.
I. Love. You.
Same bit his lip, and squeezed back.
I. Love. You. Too.
"May the dearly departed rest in peace." The preist concluded.
"Amen." Came the crowd's hushed reply.
The crowd began to dissipate, each person walking past and offereing sympathy to the young (well, younger than Diane, anyway) widow. Lorie Seaborne. Ha.
Sam held his hand out to the early fifties woman.
"You must be his son," Lorie started, shaking his hand warmly.
Curses. She had a soft, gentle voice. And no wart. Damn it.
"Yes. And you must be his widow." Sam's voice was curt, almost venom like.
"Yes," she whispered. She swallowed, and included Diane in the next dialouge. "This must be very difficult for you both."
Diane blinked. Then, in a surpringly kind voice, "And for you."
Lori nodded. "I... I need to tell you... you both. I'm so sorry. He loved you both very much."
Sam snorted.
"He did. I know I must look so evil to you, but you must understand that he was a very confused man. I knew it was wrong-"
Diane's eyes began to grow colder.
"We both did. But we didn't want to hurt anyone. I threatened to leave him about two years ago. But... a few months after that he finallly decided to choose. I just.... sometimes I wish it wasn't me."
Now Sam was the one confused. His mouth dropped a bit. Was that sympathy he felt for this woman and the man? That bastard who tore apart the lives of so many people because of his inability to make decent choices?
Damn it.
An awkward silence followed. Josh broke it after a few seconds. "Lori, " Bless him, he didn't call her "Mrs. Seaborne." "My condolences." He shook hands with her.
Soon after, Sam nodded farewell at the widow, and put his arm around his mother.
As they returned to the black limosine, sirens in the near distance provided the only soundtrack to the bitter day's end.
