Fallout
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Carol
Spoilers: Up to and including We Killed Yamamoto
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: Sam's always known that a week was a long time in politics…
Author's Note: The very long time in coming penultimate part of the Dark Horses series; previous instalments can be found at my site.
Sam had always heard that a week was a long time in politics. He'd never been quite so certain of it before; had never learned first hand just how true that was. Not until now.
Last Thursday, he'd been the toast of the West Wing; saviour of the Helsinki summit. He'd stood in the Oval Office, told the President, in the presence of Fitzwallace and others far savvier in matters of foreign policy than he, that he thought that President Chigorin was trying to send them a message. He'd explained about idiom, and the President had followed his logic, agreed with him. Not even the Chairman's joke of amazement that National Security matters had passed through his hands and that they were all still alive had put a damper on his good mood. The "Good job" from the President, and the "Well done" sotto voce from Josh had more than tempered any blow that the joke may have struck, but they were nothing to the smile that Carol had bestowed upon him the next time that she saw him.
They were leaving for Helsinki the next day, and he'd taken her out for dinner that night, part of his master plan to make it up to her for having to be away on her birthday. They'd gone to a nice restaurant; he'd made Toby and CJ promise that they'd only call them back if it was a matter of dire emergency - nothing less than nuclear war had been his words, and both had agreed. The night had been perfect; his good mood over his success that day added to by the company of the woman he loved.
Now, it was seven days later, and how the mighty had fallen.
This Thursday, there would be no "well dones", no "good jobs" from anybody. He was hiding in his office, hoping that no-one would call him out for any particular reason, because all he could think about was how he'd screwed up, how angry everyone was with him, and he didn't want to have to deal with any more recriminations. Bruno had ripped him apart in his office yesterday, before calling him out to the bullpen, switching on all the televisions, a different channel on every one, but just one story.
The videotape.
The videotape that had been sent to him; the one that he'd given to Kevin Kahn.
The man he thought had been his friend.
The only thing he could say as he looked around the bullpen was "My God," and he fancied that the eyes of every person there were staring at him accusingly. He'd gone into his office, closing the door behind him, not emerging until everyone else was gone. He'd heard Toby railing in the bullpen, heard CJ and Josh trying to calm him down, but he hadn't gone out. Ginger and Bonnie had come in when they needed to, but they hadn't uttered a sound to him, and their silence made him even more despondent.
So far this morning, he hadn't even had them in his office. He was all alone.
Just as he thought that, there was a knock on his door, and before he could say anything, it opened and in came Carol. She closed the door behind her, leaning back against it, her hands behind her, and she didn't say anything for a second, just looked at him.
"Morning," he said eventually, because it didn't seem like she was going to say anything, and her silence was making him nervous. There had been many occasions over the past few months when he and Carol had been content to sit in silence, not needing to say anything; just being near one another was enough. This silence didn't feel like those times somehow, and Sam leapt in to fill it up, running out of steam after the first word.
She stared at him for a moment longer, her eyes narrowed slightly. "How are you?" she asked finally. There was nothing in her manner to indicate her feelings; her voice was perfectly neutral, her face composed.
"Good," he told her, nodding. "I’m good."
He noted that his tone of voice wouldn't have even convinced him, and from the sceptical look that she gave him, it didn't succeed with her either. "You didn't come home last night," she said next, and his stomach twisted in guilt.
She'd come into his office the previous evening, when almost everyone else had already left, and he was pretending to work hard. In point of fact, he'd been stuck on the same page for the better part of an hour, not able to move past one specific point. He'd thought that she might come around the desk to talk to him, as she sometimes did, but she'd just stood beside the visitor's chair, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the armrest. She'd asked him, as she had now, if he was all right, and he'd lied to her, told her that he was fine. He'd seen the hurt register in her face, as she'd known he was lying, but she'd swallowed hard, and asked him if he was ready to go. When he'd replied in the negative, she'd told him that she'd see him later, and that time she had come around the table, leaning and kissing his cheek quickly.
He'd meant to go to her place; really, he had. But by the time he was ready to leave, it was later than it had ever been when he'd gone, and he wasn't sure if she'd still be up. He wouldn't want to disturb her, he'd told himself, and so he'd gone back to his own place.
He'd known at the time that he was lying to himself. That the real reason he hadn't gone to her was because he didn't want to see disappointment on her face; or worse, recrimination. And even if she wasn't feeling those emotions, there was no reason to worry her with how bad he was feeling. He didn't want to see her pity either.
He shrugged offhandedly now, trying to act as if it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah…it was late. I didn't want to wake you."
"You've got your own key," she pointed out, still not having moved from her perch at the door. "And you've never minded waking me before."
"I just wouldn't have been very good company, that's all," he told her, settling for something that was pretty close to the truth. "I didn't think that you'd-"
"You wouldn't have been good company?" Her incredulous echo stopped his words. "What makes you think that's your decision to make?" She'd taken a couple of steps towards the centre of the room when she began speaking, and she was leaning on the back of the visitor's chair, hands braced shoulder width apart when she finished.
"Carol, I didn't-"
"How long have we been dating?" she asked him, interrupting him again.
"Four months last week," was his prompt answer.
"In that time, how many nights have we spent apart? Aside from the times that we've been out of town?" He tried to think, tried to calculate the last time he'd gone to bed alone. The only time that came immediately to mind was the night that he'd met her and her brother at her place for a disastrous dinner, but even then, she'd come to his place later on and climbed into bed beside him. "Can you even remember?" she asked after a lengthy pause.
"No," he was forced to whisper.
"I can't either. I didn't want to leave you here last night Sam; I would have dragged you out of here if I could have. But I thought you needed some space to work this thing out in your own head. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you…do you have any idea how worried I was?"
"Carol, I told you, it was late, I didn't want to disturb you…"
"That's not your call to make Sam!" she shouted, her hand smacking down on the back of the chair for emphasis. He blinked in surprise, because he didn't think he'd ever heard Carol raise her voice before, and certainly not in the last four weeks. "I know how upset you are over the videotape. I know the kind of things you're thinking right now, and I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to listen, I wanted to help. I've turned to you so many times, and when you need me, you blow me off, because you wouldn't have been good company?" She took a deep breath, then another, before she spoke again, employing obvious effort to lower her voice. "I don't care about the tape Sam. And I don't care what the Press say, and what Bruno says, and who's pissed at you and who's not. I just care about you. I'm here for you. I'm here for the good stuff, and the bad stuff, and I'm here if you screw up, and win or lose in November, I'm still going to be here, because I love you. But I can't do it alone Sam. You've got to meet me halfway."
She stopped then, spent, dropping her head and closing her eyes. Almost without realising he was doing it, he was out of his seat, rounding the table to stand beside her. He reached out his hand, resting it on the back of her neck, kneading the tight muscles there, wincing at how wound up she was. At the touch of his hand, she looked around at him, mustering up a tight smile before turning to him and sliding her arms around his waist. He held on to her, wrapping both arms around her shoulders, sighing into her hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
She pulled back slightly, the better to see him, and one hand reached up to cup his cheek. "And I'm sorry for shouting. I was just worried Sam…"
"I know…I know." He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "I just…I wasn't ready to talk last night."
"We didn't have to talk…I could've just been there for you."
He shrugged. "I forget sometimes…that there's someone else to consider now." As he said the words, he remembered a night that he'd said much the same thing to her, back at the start of their relationship. Funny, it was only a few months ago, yet it seemed like a lifetime.
From the smile on her face, he had a feeling that she might remember it too. "Just remember next time, ok?"
"I'll try," he smiled, leaning down to brush her lips with his. The kiss was quick, as it had to be considering their location and the time of day, and when he pulled away from her, he stepped back, moving around the desk again.
"I'll see you later?" she said, walking backwards towards the door.
"Yeah," he said, still with that small smile on his face. She smiled back at him, closing the door behind her.
When she was gone, the smile vanished from his face, his gaze travelling towards the window between his office and Toby's, and he wondered if he was brave enough to venture that far. Hearing Toby yelling as he strode through the bullpen, hearing distinctly the words "damn videotape" he decided that he wasn't.
>*<*>*<
The rest of the day passed pretty much the same as that morning and the evening before. He stayed in his office, trying not to notice how people were looking at him; tried not to notice how people weren't talking to him at staff meetings. Not that he was interacting with anyone; even at the morning meeting in Leo's office, and in an afternoon meeting in the Oval, especially then, he hadn't said a word.
Instead he'd brooded.
And when he'd finished brooding, he came to a decision, leaving the office without telling anyone that he was leaving; even Carol. He'd driven to Dupont Tower, parking on the street outside, watching, waiting for Kevin to come out.
The rain that had been forecast earlier in the morning had begun to fall, and he knew that he was getting soaked to the skin but he didn't care. Not once he saw Kevin striding out of the building, looking so confident, so smug. Not when he listened to his rationalisation for what he did; not when it was patently clear that he was proud of what he'd done, that he had no regrets.
No regrets for trashing their friendship.
No excuse for trashing Sam.
Right then and right there, Sam made a decision.
That there was no power on this earth that was going to stop him from getting Jed Bartlet re-elected, and kicking Kevin Kahn's ass in the process.
He drove to Carol's apartment on autopilot, letting himself in as he should have done the previous night. He'd scarcely had time to close the door behind him when he heard her voice. "Sam, is that you?" She sounded worried he noted guiltily, and when she came out into the hallway, her face matched her voice exactly. Worry transmuted into alarm when she actually saw him, and she was at his side in record time. "Oh my God, Sam, where were you?"
Her hands were on his coat, pulling it off him, and while that would be far from the first time that she'd done that to him, the circumstances were different tonight. "I went to see Kevin Kahn," he told her, and she shook her head.
"And what did you do, wrestle him in the rain?" she muttered, hanging up his coat before patting down his suit, frowning at the dampness there. "Come on, we've got to get you dry."
"Carol, I'm fine," he protested, much more interested in talking to her, finally letting her in on what had been going on in his head, but she wasn't having any of it, propelling him towards the bedroom.
"You're not fine, you're soaking wet, and you're going to get sick if we don't get you out of those clothes."
"Now there's a line I've heard before," he chuckled, earning him a look that was distinctly reminiscent of CJ, glaring at him before she vanished into the bathroom, emerging towel in hand.
"Get in there and change," she told him, thrusting the towel at him. "Have you eaten?" was her next question, and he nodded.
"I got something from the mess."
"You haven't eaten," she decided immediately. "I'll fix you something."
"Carol, I'm-"
She stopped and turned, lifting one eyebrow. "Why are you still there talking to me? Go change."
Pivoting neatly on her heel, she made her way towards the kitchen, leaving him to do as he was told, shaking his head and wondering just when his girlfriend began to sound so much like Amy Gardner.
He changed into a pair of faded blue jeans and an old Duke sweatshirt, and he was still rubbing his hair dry when he walked into the kitchen. Carol pointed to the table, indicating that he should sit down there, handing him when he did so a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. "Eat," she commanded, and, since she was still using her best Amy Gardner voice, with a healthy dollop of CJ Cregg thrown in, he did.
When the plate was clean, she was still standing at the counter, leaning against it, arms crossed in front of her. He turned to her, smiling a genuine smile, earning one in return. "May I speak now?" he asked, and she chuckled.
"You may," she told him, stepping over to the table, making to take the plate away from him, but he was ahead of her, scooting the chair back and grabbing her around the waist, pulling her to him. She shrieked in surprise, but she didn't resist, and ended up sitting on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His head rested on her shoulder, nose buried in her neck, and he sighed when he felt one of her hands reach up to cup the back of his head. "Are you feeling better?" she asked.
"Much," he told her with feeling, pulling back so that he could see her face. "Thank you."
She shrugged, but he could see that she was pleased by his response. "It was nothing." She brought her hand up, one finger rubbing against his cheek. "I meant what I said earlier Sam," she told him quietly. "I'm here for you. Good or bad."
"I know that," he whispered. "I just…I wasn't thinking straight last night."
"And now?" Her face had changed from "loving" back to "worried" again. "How are you now?"
"Pissed off." His words had a gasp of laughter escaping her lips, and he shrugged. "It was all about the open mike. He didn't appreciate the President making his candidate into a punch-line."
She snorted in disgust. "Nature did that; the President just gave it an audience."
"That's pretty much what I said," Sam agreed. "But it doesn't get back the tape. It doesn't fix what I did."
"You trusted a friend Sam," Carol told him. "That's not a character flaw."
"Apparently, it is if you're in politics." There was a bitter edge to Sam's voice, and Carol winced at the sound of it.
"You were following your heart Sam, acting for the right reasons. You did what you thought was right."
"Look where it got us." He sighed, dropping his gaze.
"It's going to be ok Sam," she told him.
"Oh, I know it will." The strength in his voice surprised him, and from the way she was looking at him, her too. "And once it is? I'm going to make Kevin Kahn sorry that he did this."
"You are?"
He was affronted by the scepticism he heard in her voice. "You don't think I can do that?"
"I have no doubt that you can do that," she assured him quickly. "I just don't think I've ever seen you…"
"Plotting revenge?"
"Yeah." She tilted her head appraisingly. "I think I kinda like it."
Her eyes were dancing as she looked down at him, and he chuckled despite himself. "Well, that's something," he murmured, raising his lips to hers, pressing her as close to him as he could. Her hair, which had been loose when she'd been in his office earlier, had been twisted up quickly once she got home, and he reached around now, undoing the clip and tossing it on the table, letting his fingers tangle in the glossy cascade, sighing into her open mouth.
The clatter of the clip made her start slightly, and she pulled back a little. He noted that she was breathing hard, but then, so was he, and he grinned as he pushed a strand of hair back behind one ear. "Sam?" she whispered, eyes dark with a combination of curiosity and worry.
"I'm fine Carol." His voice was as quiet as hers had been. "I'm fine. This…" One hand gestured to the space between them, then around the room. "This…was just what I needed. You're just what I needed."
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Promise me you'll talk to me next time?" she begged. "Or at the very least, let me be there?"
"I promise," he told her, bringing his lips to hers again briefly.
They sat in silence for a long moment, before he patted her hip, indicating to her that she should stand. When she did, he led her into the bedroom, switching off lights as he went, not bothering about the dishes on the table. They'd still be there in the morning. For now, all he wanted to do was hold her.
She didn't resist, or talk, just walked with him, each undressing when they got to the room before slipping naked underneath the covers. Once there, they assumed their normal positions, her lying almost but not quite on top of him, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her. "Thank you," he whispered when he felt himself drifting off to sleep, and she kissed his shoulder, pressing tighter against him.
"Any time Sam," she replied, and he could hear that she was almost asleep too. "Any time."