Mile Highs and Lows
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Carol
Spoilers: Up to and including Posse Comitatus
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: It's supposed to be a simple trip to New York
Author's Note: The final part of the Dark Horses series.
"Come with me."
Sam was walking through the halls of Air Force One, looking for someone, and when he found her, he took her by the elbow, steering her down the hall with him. She looked up at him, lifting one eyebrow, not able to keep the grin off her face. "You look like you're in a better mood," she observed, and he chuckled.
"You're very observant," he told her.
"One of my many admirable traits," was her dry response. "I heard about a certain press release that Toby put out. That wouldn't have anything to do with the smile on your face, would it?"
"It might," he shrugged, finally finding an empty room and bringing her into it, closing the door behind them. In truth, it had an awful lot to do with his good mood. He'd hardly been able to believe it when Toby had told him that Kevin Kahn had issued a statement about the play that night; hadn't been able to believe the contents of the statement. "Governor Ritchie is looking forward to meeting with the President tonight so he could talk about the Federal Government's plan for the Everglades, which would tax sugar farmers into unemployment." Considering it was his initiative that Kevin was deriding, and the fact that it was Kevin in the first place, Sam hadn't been best pleased, and he knew how serious it was, by the way that Toby was pacing if nothing else.
The answer had come to him surprisingly easily. "Call AP and tell them that Governor Ritchie is mistaken and that he is not on the President's schedule," he'd suggested. "And go further. Say the President would love to meet with Ritchie, but he's gonna be busy tonight passing a vote... "
Toby caught his drift quickly. "...That's being hung up by the Florida delegation."
Sam had known the risks, had known what would happen if they lost the vote that night; that it would look like they were saying that Ritchie had been the one who'd messed it up for them. But Toby had accepted it, and Josh had signed off on it, and the way things were now, it looked as if things were going their way.
Seaborn 1. Kahn 0.
He'd wanted to see Carol before they left, but he hadn't been able to find the time. She'd been working CJ and the press; he'd been working out the language of the release with Toby, and it had been a pleasure to write.
Still, he'd wanted to share at least part of the moment with Carol. So, once they'd boarded Air Force One, once they were in the air, he'd gone looking for her, knowing that she was bound to be somewhere. When he'd found her, she'd been talking to Margaret, the two of them laughing over something and dressed up to the nines. He'd stood back for a long moment, out of sight, just looking at her, imprinting the sight on his memory. He was having a good day; he'd put one over on Kevin Kahn, the Welfare vote was almost certainly sewn up and he was going to see a play with the woman he loved. How could he be anything else but happy right now?
Carol was looking at him, her head tilted to one side. "Sam, what are people going to say if they find us in here?"
He shrugged, closing the distance between them, slipping his arms around her waist. "We can tell them that we finally took their advice." She frowned, not understanding, and he elaborated. "We got a room."
She stared at him for a second, and he waited patiently for the penny to drop; then she rolled her eyes and began to laugh. "Somehow, I don't think that'd fly."
"I don't care," he told her, leaning towards her and kissing her gently. When they separated, he took her hands in his, holding out his arms and stepping back, looking her up and down. "You look amazing," he told her.
She blushed, and thanks to the low neckline of the gown and her upswept hair, he could clearly see that it started at the neckline of the dress, racing up her chest and neck to her cheeks. The dress was a deep shade of red, leaving her shoulders bare, and the skirt was long and layered, making a swishing noise as she moved. "It's a nice dress," she said, looking down at it.
He shook his head, letting go of one of her hands, lifting her chin so that he could look at her. "It's nothing to do with the dress," he told her quietly, and if possible, her face grew even redder. He'd been more or less expecting that reaction, the same reaction she always had whenever he told her that she was beautiful. No matter how many times he told her, she never seemed to believe it, but that was fine by him, because he'd never get tired of trying to convince her.
She lifted her hand to her throat, fingering the bare expanse of skin there. "I forgot my necklace," she told him, biting her lower lip. "I meant to bring it with me, to put it on tonight, but I left it on the dresser."
He cocked his head to one side, moving his hand from her chin to her shoulder, sliding a finger up and down her upper arm. "It doesn't matter."
"Yeah…but I wanted to wear it. You know?"
"Yeah, I know."
"So," she said, shaking her head and changing the subject. "That press release… your idea?"
He couldn't stop a pleased smirk from crossing his face. "I told you I was going to make Kevin Kahn sorry for the tape thing." He also remembered how she'd reacted when she'd heard him make that promise, which added to his good mood.
"So you did," she grinned, her arms going around his waist.
"This is only the beginning," he murmured, talking almost to himself. "I'm going to kick his ass."
She looked at him curiously. "You know, the last time I saw you in a tux, I was warning you about not getting blood on it." It took him a moment to recall her reference; the First Lady's birthday party, when he'd had that meeting with Jack Enlow about the Superconducting Supercollider. "Tell me," she continued. "Is it something to do with the tux or…"
"You never know," he chuckled, when her voice trailed off teasingly, bringing his lips to hers again.
This time, when they pulled apart, it was she who spoke. "We should get back out there." She reached up, wiping any telltale lipstick marks from his face, smoothing down the shoulders of his tux while she was at it.
"We could always find an even more deserted room," he suggested, not entirely sure that he was joking. "Get up to some…couple stuff…" It was an expression that CJ Cregg had used with him once, and it never failed to make either one of them smile.
She smiled now, but she patted his shoulder as she moved past him. "Save it for when we get home."
"That a promise?" he asked, turning his head to watch her go.
Her eyes danced as she closed the door, and her voice floated back to him. "You bet."
>*<*>*<
Toby and Sam turned away from the bank of photographers and flashing lights; neither able to keep the smiles off their faces, neither trying especially hard. "I love the theatre," Toby said, and Sam noted that he'd smiled more in the past few minutes than he had all year, and he was still very much freaking Sam out.
But this time, in a good way.
That's why he was able to turn to him as he walked back in, a genuine smile on his face, and tell him, "I know exactly what you mean."
They didn't speak until they walked into the back balcony of the theatre, looking around to see who else was there, who they should be speaking to. Toby's nudge on the arm caught Sam by surprise, and he looked at him curiously, eyes narrowed in question. Toby's lips quirked upwards in a grin, and his eyes danced as he inclined his head. "She's over there," he told him, amusement clear in his voice.
Sam wasn't quite sure who he meant, but he followed Toby's nod, his face relaxing into a smile when he saw Carol and Margaret talking. "I wasn't looking for her," he protested half-heartedly, sure that the look on his face wasn't doing anything to convince Toby, if the chuckle and shake of the head that answered his statement was anything to go by.
"Sure you weren't," he chided, clapping Sam on the back. "Go talk to her."
Sam frowned. "But we should talk to-"
There were any amount of politicos and clergy around that he felt they should talk to; not wanting to offend anyone by seeming to flirt with his girlfriend on company time. That was something he was always very conscious of; something that the rest of the Senior Staff usually teased him about, CJ's quip to them on the night of the First Lady's birthday party - " I don't want to have to spin the two of you dirty dancing in the middle of the First Lady's birthday party to the press" - being a case in point. He and Carol had known from the start that they would have to be careful; Toby had even warned Sam when he first began seeing Carol how the press might make it sound. He and Sam had had words over it, so for Toby to now advise Sam to go talk to Carol, in a place like this, was unexpected to say the least.
"I think that we can excuse the two of you for a little while," Toby told him, shaking his head at Sam's sceptical look. "Sam, you're in New York, at a Broadway play, staring across the room at a beautiful woman who loves you. Why are you standing with me?"
Sam tilted his head. "You know, when you put it like that…"
He'd taken a couple of steps in her direction when Toby called after him. "Sam?" He turned curiously, to see a disaffectedly nonchalant expression on Toby's face. "If you tell anyone that I said that…"
Sam chuckled. "I won't say a word." Toby inclined his head, acknowledging Sam's response, then turned away, heading for a cluster of men in the far corner of the room. Sam continued on his way over to Carol, whose back was to him, and he saw recognition, and not a little amusement, dawn in Margaret's eyes as she saw him approaching. She said something to Carol that Sam couldn't make out, but it had Carol turning as he approached, her cheeks a pleasant shade of pink, her lips curved upwards in a smile.
"Hey," was all she said, her eyes locked on his, and, bolstered by Toby's words, he smiled down at her, placing his hand on the small of her back, leaning down slightly to kiss her cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise at his public display of affection, and he fought back a grin, nodding to Margaret.
"Are you ladies enjoying the play?"
"It's incredible," Carol responded.
"It really is," Margaret said. "Although I'm a little stiff from sitting so long. I think I'll stretch my legs."
She didn't wait for any response from Sam and Carol, just walked off, which had them looking at each other, identical expressions of amusement on their faces. "You think that was an excuse?" Sam asked, his hand still on Carol's back.
"Oh, I know it was," Carol replied, shaking her head at Margaret's transparency. "She's going to want details you know."
He raised an eyebrow, knowing that under normal circumstances, he'd be putting his arms around her right now; knowing that in these circumstances, he didn't dare. He settled for tapping his fingers against the small of her back. "How much detail do you give her?" Carol looked down, biting her lip against laughter, and he continued, "I mean, should I be worried about looking her or any of the assistants in the eye?"
"You'll be fine," she assured him, looking up at him curiously. "You're in an awfully good mood for someone who's missed half of the play."
He couldn't hide his smirk, nor did he try. "I take it you heard about Governor Ritchie planning to arrive at intermission."
"Because he went to the Yankees game," she nodded.
"That's how ordinary Americans get their entertainment." Sam mimicked the Governor's drawl, looking around belatedly to see that no-one was listening to him. "Toby wasn't best pleased about that."
"I can imagine," she chuckled. Then her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer to him. "What did you do?" she asked him, curiosity and amazement warring in her tone.
"I didn't do anything," he protested half-heartedly. "Except that I reminded Toby of the story of the incumbent President, facing a primary challenge, whose staff, on the day of the primary, sent the motorcade into a district that was heavily favoured by his opponent. It tied up the traffic and…"
He stopped when he saw understanding light her face, and she shook her head, trying not to laugh out loud. "That's the second stroke you've pulled on Kevin Kahn tonight," she pointed out.
"Told you I'd make him sorry," he shrugged, and she beamed.
"I am so proud of you Sam," she said softly, and somehow, it was as if a ton weight was lifted off his shoulders.
"Thank you," he whispered, his hand moving from her back to touch her hand, holding it between them, squeezing it tightly.
"You heard about CJ?" she asked him, after visibly shaking herself.
He nodded, CJ having slid an arm around him when he'd been standing outside the theatre, smiling at him like he hadn't seen her smile in weeks, ever since the Monday morning when he'd been in her office, talking to her and Toby, and Carol had come running in, bearing news of a fire at a girls' school in Saudi Arabia. She'd been positively giddy, and in a funny way, he wasn't sure that it was just because of the capture of her stalker. "She told me when we came in," he said now. "I bet she's looking forward to getting her life back."
Carol smirked, looking around, probably for her boss. "I don't think that's all she's looking forward to," she quipped. He frowned, taken aback, not knowing what she meant. She stepped closer to him, her voice low. "She's meeting Simon for a drink after the play."
He blinked. "A thank you for protecting me drink?"
"More like a thank goodness your job is over and now we can do other stuff drink."
"Other stuff?" Her smile was his only answer, and he shook his head in amazement, "Well, well, well."
"There are stranger couples out there," she pointed out, and thinking back to New Year's Eve, he had to admit that she had a point. "Besides, it's been brewing from day one."
He nodded. "Good luck to them," he declared.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Everyone should be as happy as we are."
Their hands were still joined between them, and she squeezed his now, just as the lights began to flicker. "Yeah," she murmured, as he presented her with his arm, escorting her back to her seat. "They should."
>*<*>*<
Carol wrapped her arms around herself, wondering how in the world things had changed so much so quickly. Only a few hours ago, she and Sam had snuck off to an empty room on this very aeroplane, stealing kisses, wondering what would happen if someone were to find them there. Even more recently, they'd stood together in a Broadway theatre, talking quietly amongst the crowd, holding hands quietly, as if they were any ordinary couple. They'd smiled, and they'd laughed, and they'd talked about CJ and Simon, and they'd agreed that everyone should be as happy as they were.
They'd been having a good night. They'd won the Welfare vote; Sam had got one over on Kevin Kahn not once, but twice, and they were together.
Now Sam was in one of the other staff cabins with the rest of the Senior Staff, and she was in a different one, alone with her boss. CJ was sitting across from her, hands on the armrests of the seat, knuckles white, face drawn. There were dark circles underneath her eyes, tear tracks marring her makeup, and she hadn't said a word since the plane had taken off.
Carol hadn't been worried when Ron Butterfield came into the theatre, asking CJ to follow him out. She'd simply assumed that something had come up regarding the stalker, that there was paperwork they needed to run by CJ. Nor had she been concerned when Leo was called out; after all, he'd been in and out most of the evening, running the vote as best he could. When he'd called out Sam and Toby, and CJ still hadn't come back, she and Margaret had exchanged questioning glances, each wondering if they should see what the problem was; positing that perhaps the wheels had come off the vote after all, or that there was some other crisis afoot.
When Sam had come in, leaning over them, motioning with his head for them to follow, she'd known for sure that something bad had happened. She could read it in his eyes, see it on his face. There was an inkling of it in Margaret's face as well, but the redhead's eyes had narrowed in suspicion when Carol didn't even wait for Sam to speak when they reached the lobby, simply turning to him with the words, "What's happened?"
He'd told her, with Toby standing beside him, breaking the news as gently as he could, and all she'd been able to think about was their carefree conversation at intermission, about the sparkle in CJ's eyes when she'd told her about meeting Simon for a drink. And heedless of Toby and Margaret, heedless of the Secret Service agents, or the people walking around, she'd stepped into the warm circle of his embrace, holding on to him like she never wanted to let go.
She wished that he was with her now.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, chancing another look at CJ, only to see the other's woman's eyes flickering open, a wan smile appearing on her face. "You don't have to stay," she whispered, and Carol shook her head.
"I don't mind."
And she didn't. CJ had been there for her through some pretty tough times, never judging, never asking for anything in return. She was more than just Carol's boss, she was also her friend, and being there for her at a time like this was the least that she could do.
"I mind." CJ's words had Carol starting in surprise, and CJ closed her eyes tightly for a second. "That's not what I meant Carol. I appreciate you being here."
"But you want to be alone?"
Carol thought that that was a fairly safe guess, but CJ's head turned to the side, looking out the window to the dark sky beyond. "I saw you and Sam at intermission," she murmured, the change in subject confusing Carol, but she listened anyway. "The two of you, standing there, talking and smiling. You looked so happy." She looked back at Carol. "Are you happy?"
CJ's flat, emotionless tone was worrying Carol, but not as much as the emptiness she saw in her friend's eyes. "Yeah," she managed, past the lump in her throat. "We're happy CJ."
"We don't get to see much of that," CJ continued, her gaze returning to the window. "Not where we work, not doing what we do. Not that you get to see much of it anyway. It's so rare Carol, to find someone that you really connect with. Someone you can talk to, who you can listen to, someone who intrigues you…someone who knocks you on your ass…" CJ's lips turned up in a wistful smile, and there was a sudden glint in her eye, as if she was looking at a picture that Carol couldn't see. "Someone you can see yourself being with…" She broke off then, looking up to the ceiling, shaking her head. Her eyes were closed, but Carol could see the shiny new wetness on her lashes, could practically see her fighting for control. When she'd mastered her emotions, CJ turned to her, eyes bright, but dry for the moment. "You two are really lucky, you know that?"
The lump in Carol's throat was too big to force words past, so she just nodded.
"Don't let it go." CJ's voice was low. "No matter what people might say, or think… don't let it go." She leaned forward, grabbing Carol's hand. "Not for anything."
Carol returned the strong grip. "I won't."
CJ nodded once, then released her hand, leaning back in her chair. "You go talk to Sam," she ordered, her voice tired. "I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" Carol stood uncertainly, but CJ just returned to the position she'd been in for most of the flight, reclining on the seat, knuckles once more white against the armrest.
"I'll see you later."
Hearing the dismissal in CJ's tone, Carol went to the door, half-turning when her hand was on the handle. If CJ had looked at her, if her eyes had been open, she might have stayed. But her whole demeanour screamed "Leave me alone," and Carol respected that.
She closed the door gently behind her, not wanting to disturb CJ any more than necessary, and when she turned to look down the hall, her breath caught in her throat. Standing there, leaning against the bulkhead, jacket unbuttoned, tie undone, hands jammed into his trouser pockets, was Sam, his eyes on her, head tilted to the side. She took a deep breath, almost a gasp, tears coming to her eyes, taking a step towards him. He was on his way to meet her, and then he was there, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe, and she didn't mind a bit. Especially not when she was holding him just as tightly.
When she finally loosened her grip on him, he stepped back from her, resting his hands on her shoulders gently as she ran a finger underneath her eyes, wiping away any residual tears. "You're shaking," he observed, his hands rubbing up and down her arms, frowning as he did so, and she knew her skin must be cold. She had a wrap somewhere, but she hadn't seen it since they'd left the theatre, and she had a nasty feeling that it might have been left in one of the cars. "Here," he continued, shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders.
"Thanks." It smelled like him, and she pulled it tighter around her with one hand, the other slipping back around his waist.
"How is she?" he asked, looking over her shoulder to the door.
"I don't know," Carol replied truthfully. "She says she'll be fine, but Sam…" A fresh wave of tears rose up in her throat, and she shook her head.
"I know," he whispered, one hand moving up and down her back. "I know." She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder, looking up only when he began to move. "Come on," he said, looking around the hall, and it was only then that she saw people eyeing them curiously. She kept her head down as they walked, not looking up until he took her through a door, closing it firmly behind them. Looking around, she swallowed hard. If this wasn't the same room that they'd been in earlier on that night, then it looked exactly the same, and the contrast between their mood then and their mood now hit her hard.
"This isn't fair Sam," she told him, standing facing him, their hands joined by their sides.
"I know," he said, leading her over to the chairs. He sat down first, pulling her down so that she was sitting on his lap, his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him. His head rested on her shoulder, lips pressed against the hollow of her neck, and she was able to rest her cheek against the top of his head. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing heart, concentrating on his breathing, on the even pressure of his hand gliding up and down her back.
She didn't know how much longer it was when she felt as well as heard him whisper, "I love you," and something in her chest swelled and broke at the simple words.
"I love you too," she whispered. "I'm so glad you were here tonight."
"Me too." She straightened up as he spoke, to look down into his eyes, her hand going up to cup his cheek.
"CJ said something to me," she found herself saying. "That she saw us at intermission. She told me that we looked happy. And she asked me if we were. When I told her that we were, she said that what we have is rare. That we shouldn't let it go."
Sam smiled. "I wasn't sure if I should talk to you then. Afraid of how it might look. Toby sent me over to you. Told me that I was in New York, on Broadway, with the woman who loved me across the room. What was I doing standing with him?" A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "I told him that I wouldn't tell anyone that."
"I'm not just anyone."
The quip passed her lips without conscious thought, but his face sobered, his hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck. "No, you're not," he whispered, drawing her face down to his.
When they separated, she rested her forehead against his. "We should get back out there," she murmured, not wanting to move.
"Yeah." He sounded as enthused as she was, placing another quick kiss on her lips before moving his arms, allowing her to stand. His jacket slipped off one of her shoulders when she stood, and he reached up quickly fixing it, before he gripped her shoulders, stilling any further movement. She frowned, about to ask him what he was doing, but he saved her the trouble. "Your hair is coming down," he murmured, sounding as if he was talking more to himself than to her. She was about to tell him to leave it; that people would understand if her hair was less than perfect, or better yet, she was going to reach around and begin pulling the whole thing out, appearances be damned. Then he walked around behind her, and she felt the jacket being taken from her shoulders, felt his hands in her hair, finding the errant tendril, pinning it back in carefully, pushing back in a few more clips when he was at it. When he was finished, the jacket was slipped back on her shoulders again, hands smoothing it across her back, resting on her shoulders momentarily before he spoke again. "All better."
She dipped her head, bringing her hands up to rest over his as she leaned back against him for a moment. "Thank you," she sighed.
"Any time Carol." His voice was low, and her heart lurched as she remembered a time not so long ago that she said those very words to him, at a time that he'd needed her to be strong for him. "Any time."