I Don't Have a Title :S
This is another story I started a few years ago. If it doesn't make any sense, it's because I didn't know what I was doing when I was writing it. I was just making it up as I went. But it was fun to write :) I have a few ideas for how to further the story, but this will require some serious brainstorming if it wants to go anywhere.
Fandom: The West Wing
Word Count: 3,422
Pt 1.
Josh ran a hand over his face and let out a hollow sigh. He closed his eyes and remained still, not knowing for a moment what he should do next. He didn’t know whether to make the call to Moira Evans now, or delay that and jump in on Toby’s AIS meeting that Toby had no so subtly hinted that he could use some help with. A year ago it would have been no sweat - he would have course chosen to jump in with Toby rather than talk to the evil and demented Moria Evans. Of course he would have. But now... now he couldn’t decide. In truth, he wanted to do neither.
Ever since Sam had died, he felt as though he had lost the will to live; and many would say that he had. The days in the White House before Sam had gone were nothing but a blotted out memory - one that everyone was trying hard to forget. Josh couldn’t imagine how he had gotten through those days - how he could have been so on fire, so overflowing with desire and will to do his job to the greatest of his abilities and more. To be able to go through each day as though it were just some game; taking on each challenge and doing whatever he could to pass it, and then looking forward to what the next day would bring. He couldn’t do that now. Now it was a challenge just to get out of bed in the morning; a confrontation each day with what used to be his life, to see if he could even pick up a phone, much less deal with the politics of the job.
Everyone had taken time off at some point, each trying to deal with the tragedy in their own way. But to Josh, it wasn’t just a tragedy. Tragedy was too small a word to describe what he had lost. Tragedy was just what someone said to convey that something bad had happened. A tragedy was just another word for “gone too soon”. Tragedy just meant “it’s a shame this happened”. It was used by people who weren’t affected by it. It was just a word used by people who felt bad about it, but in the end couldn’t care less. That was why when CJ had used the word “tragedy” in her first briefing after it happened, Josh knew that she didn’t really care. She didn’t care that Sam had died. She felt bad, she was after all friends with him, but she didn’t really know him. He was just an acquaintance to her - a colleague, someone she worked with. But nothing more. Some would say that she wasn’t the same as before - that the usual bounce in her step had all but disappeared, but Josh didn’t see that. All he saw was someone who went about their day like it was any other day - as though it were just a normal day in the West Wing, with nothing wrong, and nothing missing. And Josh hated her for that.
Leo had hired a man named Jacob Morrison to replace Sam - and he was everything Sam was not. He was 54 years old, balding, and whatever hair he had left was completely white. He was respectful to Josh and the other senior staff, but short of friendly. Not that Josh wanted to be friends with him, but the man himself had made it quite clear that he was there to do a job and serve the president, and nothing else. Sam wasn’t like that. Sam was Josh’s best friend, and that fact hadn’t disappeared when they had entered the White House. And while Sam was kind, caring, and honest, the new Deputy Communications Director was stern, strict, and he certainly didn’t go out of his way to help anyone else. Josh didn’t know how well he got on with Toby, and to be honest he couldn’t care less. He rarely went into the Communications bullpen anymore, and when he did both of the men were always in their separate offices, silently doing their work. Once he had heard Toby blow up at Morrison, but all he had heard was his yelling. He hadn’t found out what Toby was upset about, or how Morrison responded to it, and he never did. He just shut them out and continued to work.
It had been nearly a year since Sam’s death. Josh was subconsciously counting down the days. There was only five weeks left, and then Sam’s death would come back to haunt him. Not only in the night, as it had been ever since he’d died, but in the day as well. The media would play the last footage of Sam taken when he was alive, and then they would play the footage of his funeral with an empty casket.
They never had recovered his body.
Josh was planning on asking for that day off when it came. He didn’t want to be forced to work that day, where the empty presence of Sam would be so painfully palpable. He didn’t want to have to see the multitude of television sets in the West Wing all playing the exact same thing. To everyone else they would just be playing the loss of the Bartlet Administrations Deputy Communications Director. To Josh, they would be selfishly playing and talking about the loss of his best friend - someone they had no business discussing on their stupid talk shows and stupid news reels. They would all be sorrowful, as though all of politics had lost an aspiring young politician, and that the literary world had lost a great writer. Josh hated that. They hadn’t lost anyone. They didn’t even know him, much less know all the different parts of who he was. He knew. He knew what the world had lost, what his family had lost, what he had lost. He knew, and no one else. It was his best friend, his best friend and no one else’s. It was his best friend. Not Toby’s, not CJ’s, not the world of politics, not the world of writing; his. It was his. His best friend had died. And now... and now...
Josh slammed his fist on his desk, rattling pencils, pens, and any other object that lay there. Sam had died. He was dead. And he had been, for nearly a year. He had to get over this, he had... he had to....
A soft knock came from the door.
“Josh?”
The door opened quietly and Donna poked her head in, her eyes glancing at Josh’s desk before settling on Josh himself.
Josh didn’t look up.
“I’m fine Donna.”
“Are you sure? I heard a noise and-.”
This raised Josh’s head. “I said I’m fine!” His voice had raised at the end, and at seeing Donna’s hurt face he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for snapping at her. His angered expression softened, and he turned his attention back down to the papers on his desk. “Just leave me alone Donna, I have a lot of work to do.”
Donna bit her lip, and stopped herself from saying any response, no matter how kind it would have been. She had learned that neither snappish comments or kind remarks got anywhere with Josh anymore.
“All right. Call me if you need anything.”
Josh didn’t say anything, and Donna shut the door.
Josh sighed once more, and leaned his head on his hand. He didn’t have to wonder whether today would be a good day or not - he already knew.
After a few minutes of silent staring, Josh finally shook his head and started sorting through his memos. He needed to get his head on straight, and at least get something done today. Or else the rest of the senior staff would be dealing with more than just one new member to their team.
If you could call it that.
There was a quick knock, and the door opened, and Donna strode in. She kept her glancing at Josh to a minimum, and simply walked over to his desk and laid a bunch of folders and papers onto it.
“Toby says there’s going to be a meeting in the oval in twenty minutes, so you better be there and be on time.”
“Hey, I was on time before.”
Donna wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t.
“No you weren’t, you were over ten minutes late last time.”
“Well the president didn’t mind.”
“Well everyone else did.”
“They don’t matter. Especially -.”
“Josh,” Donna said warningly.
“What? Come on Donna, you know that-.”
“Josh, just be on time, okay? And read over those memos before you go.”
“Yes, boss.”
Donna gave Josh a ‘look’, then walked out of the office, closing the door behind her.
It was the most bantering Josh had done in a long while, and he had to admit, it felt good.
Picking up the papers, Josh began glancing through the memos. Just after he began to read the first page of the first one, the phone rang.
Josh continued reading, and picked up the phone.
“Josh Lyman.” He said.
Silence.
Concentration lost, Josh frowned and looked up.
“Hello?”
Another silence. Puzzled, Josh shrugged and was just about to start putting down the phone when a voice finally spoke up.
“Josh.”
The voice was hauntingly familiar, and Josh’s expression and voice turned to stone.
“Yes, this is Josh Lyman.”
There was heavy breathing on the other end, as though the person had just come from running a marathon.
“Josh I -, it’s... it’s...”
It was then that Josh realized why the voice sounded so familiar. It a voice that haunted him in his dreams, but one he hadn’t heard in almost a year. It was a voice he had heard on the television, but not one he had spoken with for eleven months. It was the voice of his best friend.
It was Sam’s.
Josh felt as though he had turned to ice. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t speak. It was like every neuron in his brain had frozen to a halt, and he could no longer think. It was only when the person spoke again that he was snapped back to reality.
The person could be heard taking a deep breath, then,
“Josh, it’s me. It’s... it’s Sam.”
Anger coursed through Josh’s veins, and he felt more emotion than he had in the past eleven months. What person would do such a thing as this? What cruel joke could this possibly be?
“Who is this?! What the heck do you think you’re doing, calling here? If you think this “joke” is funny, you are MORE than wrong! How could you - why-.” Josh ran an angered hand through his hair, his words tumbling out of his mouth like a freight train. “Don’t ever call here again, do you HEAR ME?! DON’T EVER CALL HERE AGAIN!”
“Josh, stop! I-.”
“You better hope that my people don’t track you, because if we do I’ll have you put in prison for the REST OF YOUR LIFE!! You know what?! I’m going to-.” Beyond outraged, Josh made to slam the phone down, trying to ignore the shouts and pleas that were coming from the other end.
“Josh it’s me! It’s SAM! I’m not dead! It’s me! IT’S SAM! I’M NOT DEAD IT’S SAM I’M NOT DEAD IT’S-.”
Josh’s hand suddenly screeched to a halt, just inches from the base. He wanted to slam the phone down, he wanted to slam it so hard, but something was stopping him. The sound of Sam’s voice screaming from the phone, saying that he was alive was too much. He couldn’t -, he-.
Breathing heavy, Josh remained in his position for what felt like a lifetime. After a minute he realized that Sam’s voice had stopped talking, and everything was silent.
Josh breathed in heavily. Then, without really thinking, he brought the phone back up to his ear. He would settle this once and for all, and he would do it in a civilised manner.
Taking a deep breath, he finally said,
“Who is this?”
“Josh, I swear to you, it’s me. It’s Sam. This isn’t a joke, I know you think I’m dead
but-.”
He couldn’t take it anymore. He’d had enough.
“I’m hanging up now.” He said, and placed the phone back down on the base.
He didn’t move. He was standing, staring at the phone, a small frown on his face. He didn’t know when he had stood, but he imagined it was sometime when he was yelling. He couldn’t think. He didn’t understand what had just happened. Someone... someone got a hold of his personal office number, and they had somehow disguised their voice to sound just exactly like Sam’s. To play some sort of sick, sadistic joke on him. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t amused. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear his eyes out, to just jump off a building and be done with it all. But...
But that person sounded just like Sam. It was the exact same as he remembered it. It even had the same panicked urgency that it would get whenever Sam was freaking out over something. It even said his name the same way.
No. No he couldn’t do this.
Josh stood up, pushing his chair roughly back, and began walking back and forth, running a hand through his hair violently.
It was a joke. Sam was dead, and not one prank phone call could change that, or make him even think that. It was a joke, that was all. A sadistic, disgusting joke albeit, but a joke nonetheless. That meant it wasn’t real. That meant that whomever was on the other line was not Sam, no matter how real he seemed.
It seemed. It seemed.
The call had officially unnerved him. The voice had sounded so normal. So genuine. So real. So...
So Sam.
No. No he couldn’t let himself fall into this trap. It had been nearly a year, for goodness sake.
A knock on the door.
“Josh? Josh, are you okay? What happened? I heard yelling, and-.” Donna walked into the room a little ways, concern clearly in her voice.
Josh looked up at Donna for a moment, glanced at the phone, then looked away.
“Nothing Donna, it’s fine.”
Donna bit her lip, as though debating whether or not to speak what was on her mind. Eventually the need the speak won out, and she asked quietly,
“Are you sure? Just, some of the things you said were-.”
“DONNA!” Josh shouted, rubbing his eyes with his fingers in stressed frustration.
“OKAY! Okay! But you have a meeting in the oval in three minutes!” Donna quickly backed out of the room and shut the door with a loud bang.
Josh sighed, and sat back down in his chair. He rested his chin on his fist, and stared at the phone. As though sensing his watching eye, the phone rang.
Josh took a breath, and picked it up.
“Josh Lyman.”
“College second year. You and I teamed up to run the Hope for Cancer marathon organized by the Biology 101 class. When we got there the women from the Bio class were setting up the drink tables and filling up water on them. You told me that there was no way those girls could resist your Josh Lyman “I wish that were my man” charm, and so you went over and started flirting with them. After you started flirting though, you tripped and fell on the table, broke the legs, and spilled the table jug of water along with every single cup on that table. The Biology class banned you from ever participating in one of their marathons again, and there was talk that the school board was considering the same thing.”
Josh blinked. All of this had been said in a matter of seconds, and it took a moment for Josh to realize that the person on the other line had just reiterated something that only Sam would have ever known. But he didn’t want to hope. He didn’t want to let himself think that what was happening was really happening. But his mouth didn’t agree with him. Before he could speak the voice started again.
“Third year-you and I decided we would go to the Belmont High Spring Dance Formal, and try and get in even though we were overage. There were two girls we were meeting there, named Victoria and Rebecca Willser. We were able to get in because we looked young for our age...”
Josh leaned back in his chair, his eyes staring blankly in unbelief as the person on the other end continued to tell the story to him. It couldn’t be Sam. It just couldn’t. He had died. He was dead. He was dead, he was dead...
“...and then by the time we got back to our apartment, it was three in the morning, and we had an exam then next day-.”
“...Sam?”
The person on the other line stopped abruptly. There was a moment of silence, and then he spoke.
“Josh. Josh it really, really is me. I know you think I’m dead, that EVERYONE thinks I’m dead, but I’m not. I’m alive, and I’m outside your apartment.”
Josh’s blank stare furrowed into one of utter disbelief.
Sam was alive?
He didn’t dare to believe it, but something stirred in him that he hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime.
“You’re dead, Sam.” Josh deadpanned.
“No one found my body, Josh.”
That was true. No one had ever found Sam’s body. They’d had a funeral with an empty casket.
But he was dead. There had never been even a hint of hope that Sam was alive. Everyone had accepted the fact that he was dead.
“Josh, I need to talk to you. I need to just... to just see you.”
The urgency and genuine pleading in his voice was clearly evident and nearly palpable.
Part of Josh just wanted to throw the phone down and get away from this voice that was claiming to be his best friend as soon as he possibly could. But something kept tugging at him - prodding him, bugging him.
They had never found Sam’s body.
Was it possible? Could Sam really be alive? Everyone had said that there was no way someone could survive a fall like that, but did Sam defy the odds? Did he really survive?
Silence rang throughout the room, as Josh fought with himself over what was really happening. After a few moments the voice said,
“Josh, if you don’t think it’s me, then... well just ask me anything! ANYTHING! Ask me something that only Sam Seaborn could ever know, and no one else.”
Josh remained silent.
The person could be heard taking a deep, shaky breath.
“Josh, what can I do to convince you? When I fell, I.. I...” Another shaky breath, then a choked sob was heard. “I need you to believe me Josh. I need you to believe me.”
This person was clearly shaken. This person was... this person was...
This person was Sam.
The realization hit Josh like a ton of bricks, and his demeanour suddenly changed from one of silent, near comatose shock, to one of sudden, disbelieving hope. Then the words Sam had said before suddenly caught up to him.
“You’re... you’re outside my apartment?”
“...Yeah. Yeah I am.”
Josh could barely think. He stood up slowly, and reached over to the coat hanger and picked up his coat.
“Okay. Okay. I - just stay... stay where you are, I’m... stay.”
He let the phone drop from his hands and it clattered to the floor. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing - all he knew was that he had to get home.
He opened the door and made his way down the hallway. As he was walking he was confronted by Donna, but he quickly shook her off.
“Josh, where are you going? You’re meeting in the oval -.”
Josh didn’t even glance at her as he walked on by.
“I know Donna, I know. I’m just... I’m going... I’ll be back, okay? Just tell them I’ll be back.”
Donna stopped where she was and watched Josh walk further away from her. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew enough to not stop him.
“When will you be back?” She called out.
But Josh didn’t answer.
tbc
- - -
I have more, but didn't want to make the entry too long. This is a story that I had no clue what I was doing with, or where it was going, but it was fun to write.