substance of things hoped for, part two
Part One
***
It took Jed longer than he expected to shake Leo and Ron in person and Fitz and Nancy on the phone, to convince Abbey he needed a moment to himself, and no, he wasn't going to go smoke, to dodge around Zoey and Charlie and slip out into the nearly silent hallway.
What he really wanted to do was check on Will. He had come out of surgery about twenty minutes beforehand, but the doctors didn't want any visitors at least until he woke up. Jed was rather certain that if the President of the United States demanded to visit his bedside they'd step aside, but it seemed wrong for him to see Will before his parents, his sister, or... well, Sam.
Sam was currently slumped in a chair with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, Will's sister sitting on his left and Donna on his right. Toby sat on Donna's other side. Jed vaguely remembered Josh and CJ heading back to the office as soon as Will had come out of surgery, but he was surprised to see Toby and Donna still keeping vigil. Maybe he shouldn't have been. Will was the only person Jed had ever met who Toby had taken to half as well as he did Sam. It almost made sense that he'd want to be around for both of them. He hadn't realized Donna and Sam were close, but knowing both their relationships with Josh, that made sense, too.
"Mr. President," Donna said softly, fatigue evident in her voice as she struggled to get to her feet. The others glanced over at him as well, and Jed held out a hand to still them.
"Don't get up," Jed said. "Any of you, really. I'm sorry I couldn't get out to see you sooner." Toby and Donna got up anyway, stepping aside so that Jed could take the seat next to Sam, who was doing his best to hide the open devastation that had been on his face before he looked up.
"Sam," Jed said, squeezing his shoulder as he sat down, "it's been awhile."
"Sorry, sir," Sam said quietly. "Things have just been... it's been busy."
"Understandable," Jed said. "I just wish it was under better circumstances." It was a cliché, but he didn't know what else to say in a situation like this. All that wanted to roll off his tongue was a long list of terrible clichés. They'd been here once before, bundled together in a hospital waiting room waiting for news, and he still had no idea what to say or do to even attempt to make any of it better. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Sam was... what? Gay? Dating Will? Whatever it was, it just made trying to talk to Sam worse.
As if someone heard his pleas, a new contingent of exhausted well-wishers arrived, taking the burden of conversation off of Jed's shoulders.
"Daddy," Elsie breathed softly, before stumbling to her feet and meeting General Thomas Bailey halfway across the room. Bailey looked... different. Tired and severe, yes, but without his uniform he seemed... almost normal. Jed couldn't remember ever seeing him dressed casually and the t-shirt and jeans looked oddly out of place. His wife, Barbara, stood right behind him, and behind her was... well, Jed assumed it was one of his other sons. He didn't know for sure which, though.
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner," Bailey said to Elsie. He held her close and then passed her over to her mother and extended a hand to Sam. "How are you holding up, son?"
Sam allowed himself to be hugged as well and laughed weakly and humorlessly. "I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight again," Sam said. "That's acceptable, right?"
"I tried to do the same thing when he broke his arm when he was seven," Bailey said. "He didn't take too well to it." Bailey released Sam and offered a hand to Jed. "Mr. President. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I honestly can't think of a worse reason for us to be socializing."
Jed shook Bailey's hand and offered his own wry grin. "I'm sorry about your boy, Tom," he said. "But he's been out of surgery for a few minutes now and they say he should be fine once he recovers. We can go in as soon as he regains consciousness." Bailey nodded once, still looking stern and authoritative, but there was a fear lingering underneath the surface that Jed recognized. He felt the same fear when his daughters' lives were threatened. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if those threats were carried out.
"Why don't you take a seat?" he suggested. "Tom, Barbara..." He turned to the young man still hovering on the sidelines, bespectacled, frazzled, and, despite the lighter hair, the spitting image of what he assumed Will would look like in ten years' time. "I'm sorry, son, I'd guess you're one of Will's brothers, but I didn't catch your name."
"Christopher," he said distantly, reaching out to shake Jed's hand. "I was just talking to him this afternoon. He was trying to convince me to come down with Dad and Barb to meet..." He turned slowly away from Jed and focused on Sam, who was standing next to Elsie and Barbara. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly to Sam. "I know he must like you. Normally he won't let me within twenty feet of anyone he's dating."
"We all like Sam," Barbara said, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder. Sam shot her a weak but grateful smile and Jed felt a surge of pride. He loved his girls, but he'd always wanted a son and Josh and Sam had so very much stepped into that role in the past six years. Sam, who trekked out to California and won a race that no one expected him to win. Sam, who was going to be his legacy. Was supposed to be his legacy. Now...
He didn't know what the world had in store for Sam. Logically, sensibly, humanely, nothing should change, but he knew the world wasn't logical, sensible, or humane. The odds of Sam keeping his seat in the House if this got out... he'd be lucky if they'd let him finish his term. It wasn't the sort of thing you bounced back from, and it hurt Jed almost as much as he knew it must be hurting Sam, if any part of him had even gotten past the idea of Will in a hopsital bed for long enough to think about his future. He remembered the shine in Sam's eyes when Jed had told him, unequivocally, that Sam was going to run for President one day. He knew that Sam wanted it for himself as much as Jed wanted it for Sam. He wondered, once this was all over, if Sam would be mourning.
Of course, if there was anyone in the history of the United States who could turn this around into Sam's favor, he knew without a doubt that it was his staff.
He glanced around, wondering where the staff in question had disappeared to. He assumed they slipped away to give him time with Will's family, though he hoped they knew they were more than welcome to stay and wait. Will had officially become one of them on Inauguration night, and Jed knew how much that meant to the rest of the staff.
He took a seat next to Bailey, who was still shell-shocked. His wife was speaking quietly to Elsie, who had begun to cry again.
"We're going to step out to the ladies room for a moment," Barbara said, putting an arm around Elsie's shoulders. "We'll be back in a few minutes."
"Of course," Jed said. Bailey just nodded weakly. Christopher and Sam were silent.
"I always thought Tom would be the one getting into trouble all the time," Bailey mused absently from the seat to Jed's left. "He was a rough and tumble sort of boy. Knew he wanted to join the military from the time he could walk. Always getting into fights, running around wild... he drove his mother up the wall. But he calmed down as he got older, learned to control his temper and his energy..." He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "No, it was Will who was the most trouble. He didn't mean it. He never looked for trouble like his brother did--trouble just found him. Constantly. He broke his arm falling down the stairs when he was seven. He got in the middle of fights without even realizing it, went exploring and managed to explore his way into ditches. At sixteen, he fell out of his bedroom window and got stuck in a bush trying to sneak out of the house. During his Air Force training, through no fault of his own his plane went down in the middle of an exercise. It was just like... he decided what he wanted and dove right in to get it without looking to see what stood in his way." He turned to Jed, straightening up. "Part of me has been expecting something like this to happen to him since that first fall down the stairs. Doesn't make it hurt any less."
He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. Before Jed could stop himself, he reached over to squeeze Bailey's wrist.
"He'll be okay, Tom," he said, and he believed it, if only because the other option was unimaginable.
"Mr. President?" Jed glanced up, surprised to see Will's young doctor standing in the hall. "Mr. Bailey's regained consciousness. You can see him now, if you'd like." Bailey nodded and got to his feet and Sam quickly followed.
"You guys go on," Christopher said. "I'm going to... I think I need to sit here for a moment."
"Take your time, son," Bailey said. "And I hope you'll join us, Mr. President."
"Of course, Tom," Jed said, following them out into the hallway.
Will's room was as bland as every other hospital room that Jed had ever been in. The walls were a dull pink color and the plastic chairs looked as uncomfortable as ever. None of that matter, though, when Will rolled over and opened his eyes.
"Hi, Dad," he said. He was squinting--his glasses were on the table next to the bed--and sounded a little dreamy.
"Hello, William," Bailey said.
"I got shot," Will said. "It hurt more than I thought it would."
"That's what you have to say?" Bailey said wryly. "That you were shot and it hurt? I'm glad I spent all that money on your supposedly exemplary education." He crossed to the bed and squinted at the machine standing next to it that was hooked into Will's IV. "Morphine. I should have known. Morphine's always made you a little loopy."
Will giggled, which seemed to break into Sam's breathless stupor. He lurched past Jed and over to the side of Will's bed.
"Hey," he breathed.
"I know you," Will said, breaking into a goofy grin. He reached out, fumbling, and managed to wrap his hand around the tips of Sam's fingers. "You need a haircut."
"You said that this morning," Sam said, his voice cracking a little on the last word.
"My dad's here," Will continued, gesturing absently towards Bailey.
"So's the President," Sam said. He sat on the edge of the bed, allowing Will to crane his neck to see where Jed was standing in the doorway. He took a few steps forward for Will's benefit and smiled.
"Hi," Will said. "I can't stand up."
"That's fine, Will," Jed said. "I'm gonna head back down the hall so you can spend some time with Sam and your family anyway. I just wanted to see how you were doing."
Will cocked his head to the side, as if he were considering it. "Good," he finally said.
"Can we quote you on that?" Jed joked.
"Sure," Will said. He gave Jed a dreamy smile and then looked at Sam again. "You're really..." He gestured vaguely with his free hand. "I like you."
"I like you too," Sam said softly.
Jed took that as his cue to leave. He raised a hand to Bailey, who waved back, and silently headed back to find the rest of his staff. They deserved an update, and Will deserved some quiet time with his family before everything went to hell.
***
It was the second briefing since Will woke up. That was where the trouble started.
"For those of you who missed the details last time," she said, "Will was shot twice, once in the shoulder and once in the chest. The first bullet was a through and through, but the second grazed his lung. He suffered a broken collarbone from where he fell on the floor and a minor bump on the head. He's awake, he's mostly functioning, and he's really enjoying the morphine they've got him on." She allowed time for laughter and then turned it over to the floor. "Any questions?"
"CJ," one of the newer reporters--Jim? Joe?--called out. "I heard a rumor that Sam Seaborn demanded to be let up to see Will Bailey the night he was shot. Any comment on that?"
CJ was good at this. She hadn't always been, but after four years of dodging bullets, both real and figurative, she knew her mask didn't slip as she said, "I don't know if I'd use the word 'demanded.' Sam and Will are close friends. Sam got Will his job and Will basically got Sam his. He was in the area and heard from one of the assistants in the White House what had happened. Of course he wanted to come up."
"CJ," Danny said quickly, before anyone else could try to poke holes in her story, "Has General Bailey released a statement yet? Do you know if he's planning on it?"
"I don't know, Danny, you'd have to ask him," she responded. "For those of you new to the game, Will's father is Chief Strategic Advisor to NATO and a former Supreme Allied Commander of NATO Europe. Luckily, he was in the States visiting one of his other sons when this happened. He's currently at the hospital with his wife and two of his other children, spending some time with Will."
The rest of the briefing went smoothly and no one revisited Sam's appearance at the hospital. CJ knew better than to think it would stay that way.
As soon as the briefing was over, she told Carol to grab Danny from the mob. Danny was already halfway to CJ's office by the time Carol was leaving to get him.
"Thank you for that," CJ said, closing the door to her office behind him. "I had it under control, but I appreciated it. I'm sure Sam and Will, idiots that they are, appreciated it too."
"I do what I can," Danny said. "And like I said that night, I like Sam. I like all of you. But once this breaks... if they're already sniffing around, this isn't going to be a secret for long."
CJ sighed and ran her hands through her hair as Danny took a seat on the edge of her desk. "You think I don't know that?" she asked. "Jesus, Danny, I knew this was going to happen. I knew it was going to happen from the moment Will told me and instead of preparing something, I stuck my head in the sand and crossed my fingers."
"You probably shouldn't have done that," Danny said helpfully.
CJ glared at him.
"Seriously, CJ, how long have you known?"
"Off the record," CJ asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Of course," Danny said. "I'm asking as a friend. Yours and Sam's."
"November," CJ said. She dropped into her desk chair. "It was stupidity at first sight, apparently." Danny snorted.
"Really, though, you should have come up with some sort of scenario in case it came out," he said. He looked serious and concerned and for a moment, CJ remembered that Danny was her friend. She remembered that Danny went through the campaign trail with them, that he threw them bones every once in awhile, that he liked her. Danny liked all of them, but he was a reporter, and as soon as this was public information, he'd be writing about it like the rest of them.
"I know that, Danny," she snapped. "You think I don't know that? It's my mistake, I screwed up, but..." She softened. She couldn't help it. "God, Danny, they're so happy. I just don't understand why this has to be a problem. They're in love. It's sickeningly sweet, yeah, but why is it any different than any other relationship between any other staffers here? Because they're both men?"
"Because they lied about it," Danny said simply.
"They did not," CJ said. "They did not say a single thing that can be proven to be false."
"That's just as bad," Danny said. "I mean really, CJ, do we have to go through the whole MS thing all over again? It's a lie of omission and people are going to be pissed." He paused and then shook his head. "And yeah, they're two men, and unfortunately, most of the country seems to think that makes them somehow less than the rest of the population."
"It's stupid and degrading!" CJ seethed.
"I agree," Danny said, "but that's the way things are and there's no way you're going to change that perception before someone starts digging into Sam and Will's affairs and this gets out. There's nothing you can do except hope that the sympathy from the shooting is enough for you guys to ride through this without too much damage."
She knew he was right, but she wasn't about to actually admit that.
She leaned over her laptop and started tapping her way through her e-mail.
"I have... things to do, Danny. I'll see you at the next briefing."
She heard Danny sigh and felt the desk shake slightly as he stood up. She heard the door open and then...
"But, CJ?"
She did look up at that.
"Tell Will that I'm glad he's okay, will you?"
She nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Sure. Thanks, Danny." He closed the door behind him.
When she heard it click shut, she sighed and closed her eyes. She needed a moment to herself before she dove into the mountain of work waiting for her. It was only going to get worse from here, and if she had any hope of escaping this week alive, she needed to take time to breathe while she still could.
***
William was trying, ineffectually, to eat Jell-o with his left hand when Thomas walked into his hospital room.
"Hey, dad," Will muttered, letting the spoon clatter to the tray in exasperation. Thomas sat down in one of the lurid orange plastic chairs next to the bed. It was Monday afternoon, two days since the shooting, and the doctors were optimistic that Will would be able to go home in the next few days. His mobility had improved slightly, although he wasn't thrilled about having his right arm in a sling, and keeping his arm immobile had the side effect of keeping the pain from his broken collarbone manageable.
"Hello, William," Thomas said, hiding his smile. "How are you feeling?"
"I miss the morphine," he said with a long-suffering sigh. "Although," he added, "I'm not sure I miss how I was acting on the morphine. God, I'm so lucky I didn't fall in with the stoners in college. My giggling probably would have driven my roommate insane."
Thomas chuckled. "How many times did you tell Sam he needed a haircut?"
Will groaned and covered his face with his left hand. "At least half a dozen. Of course, he still hasn't done it, so you can see how much impact my words have on him."
"Well," Thomas mused, "He probably hasn't had much time for it, what with being here every second of the day."
Will got quiet and looked back down at his Jell-o, making a feeble grab for his spoon. "Yeah, well," he said, a false brightness infusing itself into his voice, "he's probably trying to spend some time with me while he still can." Will managed to get another spoonful of Jell-o most of the way to his mouth, but his lips were set in an unhappy frown. Thomas was puzzled. He doubted Sam was the type to run away because he was afraid of Will getting hurt. The type to tie Will to a chair and never let him out of the house again, maybe, but Thomas just didn't see Sam abandoning him.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
Will sighed. "I know you know what's going on, Dad," he muttered. "The story is going to break any second now. I have no idea why it hasn't already, except that maybe they thought they should wait until a Monday afternoon so as to broadcast to the largest possible political audience." He let out a shaky breath. "Sam's a congressman, Dad. In one of the most conservative districts in California. If this gets out, his career is over. He's going to deny, deny, deny until people start to believe it. And they will, because Sam's a charmer and because he has that smile and knows the perfect way to phrase everything. But he'll have to back off. I won't be able to see him for weeks, maybe months. And in the end, I won't be surprised if it's easier for him to end it all together."
Will was silent for a long time before adding, "I'm ready for this, Dad. I came into this relationship knowing this was a real possibility." He looked up at Thomas, eyes bleak and empty with a forced smile on his face. "I'll be okay."
It was plain to see that he wasn't, that he wouldn't be, and Thomas felt something clench in his gut. He liked Sam, but more importantly, William liked Sam. Quite a lot, as far as Thomas could tell, more than he had liked any other man in a very long time. He wanted that little bit of happiness for his son, and if this took it away from him... well, Thomas was going to be very angry indeed.
"William, I very much doubt that Sam is going to end anything," he said.
"It's career suicide, Dad," Will muttered, looking away again. "For me, less so. I mean, Bartlet's pretty pro-gay rights and I'm just a lowly staffer. But Sam... god, Dad, Sam loves this. He loves politics, he loves making a difference, and I am not going to be the person who takes it away from him."
Thomas reached out and stroked Will's hair back from his forehead. William didn't acknowledge him with anything more than sharp intake of breath.
"You've told me about a million times that all that matters to you is my happiness because you love me." He took a deep breath. "Well, I love Sam. And I want him to be just as happy."
Thomas got up from where he was sitting and walked to the other side of the bed, the side with Will's good arm. Without preamble, he sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around Will, cautious of his injured side. William may have been in his thirties, but for a moment, he reminded Thomas of the little boy he held onto the night his first wife died.
"Did you ever think that you could make him happy too, William?" he said softly.
Will didn't say anything, but he hugged back tightly, which spoke for itself, really.
Once they had both regained their composure, they managed to have a normal conversation about the family and their jobs without losing too much of their dignity. Will gave the expected tirade against his brother Dean's fiancée and listened with amusement as Thomas recounted the disastrous dinner with Christopher and his rather peculiar wife and children the night that Will was shot.
When the nurse came in to take away Will's lunch tray, Thomas glanced outside and saw Sam hovering outside the door.
"I'll be right back, William," he said, getting to his feet. "Just have some business to take care of out in the hallway." Will tried to lean forward, but the curtain mixed with his broken collarbone kept him from seeing Sam lurking just outside the room. Thomas grinned easily at Will and slipped out of the room, taking Sam by the elbow and pulling him around the corner.
"Afternoon, Sam," he said, offering Sam his most non-threatening smile.
"Hi, Gen--um, Tom," Sam said, shifting hesitantly. After a beat, he added, "Um, how are you?"
"Good. I'm good, Sam," Thomas said. "I'll let you go in and see William, don't worry. But first, I want to ask you something."
"S-sure," Sam said, tugging at his collar. Thomas held back a chuckle. Good to know that his intimidation factor was still as effective as ever.
"You love my boy, Sam?"
Sam didn't stop fidgeting, but when he nodded his eyes were wide and clear and blue and Thomas knew he was telling the truth.
"That's all," he said, releasing Sam's elbow. "Go see Will."
Sam nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to flee, and this time Thomas did laugh. He wasn't sure what was going to happen once the press finally put together what was going on, but he had a feeling that neither Will nor Sam would have to go through it alone.
***
It took every ounce of pride within Sam not to turn around and watch Thomas Bailey over his shoulder as he retreated into Will's room as fast as humanly possible. He liked Thomas Bailey, he really did. Most of the time the General was almost nothing like Sam had imagined he'd be, but every so often he'd do or say something that would leave Sam fearing for his own life, sweating bullets, and swearing he'd never even think about mistreating Will.
Not that he would ever think about mistreating Will, but still.
"Any more comments about my hair today?" Sam managed to say once his nerves were settled and he was in Will's line of sight.
"You know," Will said, "I may have been high as a kite, but that doesn't mean what I said didn't have merit. If you don't get it cut soon, I'm going to start braiding it while you sleep."
Sam laughed and glanced around the room quickly before leaning over to kiss Will hello. What he really wanted more than almost anything was to climb into that bed next to Will and kiss him until they were both breathless, but given that Will had just been shot and they were probably on the precipice of having their relationship splashed across the front page of every paper, both reputable and less-than-reputable, in the country, if not the world, he curbed that instinct.
"Hey, did you see my dad?" Will asked. "He said he'd be right back." He leaned forward a little bit, as far as his sling would allow, and Sam gently pressed him back by his good shoulder.
"Yeah," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, actually, I did. Um, funny thing, about that." He bit his lip and glanced down at Will, who was starting to look slightly uncomfortable.
"Go on," Will said, after the silence started to stretch out.
"Um," Sam said. He looked out the window.
It wasn't that Sam was afraid to tell Will he loved him. Not really. In fact, he was pretty sure he had said it before, even if it was during sex. But something about Will in the hospital... something about Will's father, pulling him aside and asking him firmly and simply whether or not Sam loved Will...
"He stopped me in the hallway," Sam said finally. "On my way in. He asked me, um."
He wasn't going to stare out the window for this. He wouldn't let himself. Instead, he trained his eyes on Will.
"You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah," Will said, letting a breath out. "Yeah, I know that. And you know that it goes both ways?"
"Of course," Sam said, but he was frowning, because Will looked surprised and resigned and afraid and that certainly wasn't what he was going for with his declaration. "Will, what's wrong?"
Will pulled off his glasses, ostensibly to clean them off. He was staring down at his lap, rubbing a little harder at the lenses then was probably necessary.
"This is going to come out, Sam," he finally said. "Any second now. I wouldn't be surprised if we flipped on CNN and we were the top story of the hour."
"So?" Sam said, with more bravado than he felt.
"So," Will said slowly, finally looking up, "This is going to come out and you're going to lose your job. I'm going to lose my job. Sam, this is all going to go down in flames and this isn't what you signed up for. This isn't how your story is supposed to end, okay? And I'm..." He looked away again. "I'm willing to accept that."
Sam closed his eyes and sat down on the edge of Will's bed. He felt sick, the same way he felt every time he thought about the inevitable press conference and his inevitable resignation.
"I'm tired of lying," he said carefully, evenly. "I'm tired of treating this like it doesn't matter. My career isn't half as important as being honest with myself, and being honest with myself isn't half as important as being honest with you." He swallowed and opened his eyes, reaching for Will's free hand. Will stared at him. His expression was blank, but Sam could detect just the slightest bit of hope underneath the surface.
"This is going to suck," Will said. "A lot."
"That's probably an understatement," Sam agreed.
"They're going to dig into our personal lives," Will added.
"Then it's probably a good thing that we're boring as hell," Sam said.
That got a laugh out of Will, at the very least.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Will said, squeezing Sam's hand.
"Duly noted," Sam said. He reached for the remote and flicked on the television. "Wanna make a bet on how long it takes the story to break?" Will narrowed his eyes.
"No calling CJ and asking for tips," he said, pointing at Sam sternly with the hand in the sling.
"Okay," Sam said, "but I still say two hours, tops."
"Oh, wow," Will said. "I'm calling it waaaay before that."
Sam smirked and leaned back against the wall, sliding an arm very gingerly around Will's shoulders. A nurse ducked into the room and Sam didn't bother to move. Instead, he just smiled. "Okay, Bailey," he said. "You're on."
***
It took Jed longer than he expected to shake Leo and Ron in person and Fitz and Nancy on the phone, to convince Abbey he needed a moment to himself, and no, he wasn't going to go smoke, to dodge around Zoey and Charlie and slip out into the nearly silent hallway.
What he really wanted to do was check on Will. He had come out of surgery about twenty minutes beforehand, but the doctors didn't want any visitors at least until he woke up. Jed was rather certain that if the President of the United States demanded to visit his bedside they'd step aside, but it seemed wrong for him to see Will before his parents, his sister, or... well, Sam.
Sam was currently slumped in a chair with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, Will's sister sitting on his left and Donna on his right. Toby sat on Donna's other side. Jed vaguely remembered Josh and CJ heading back to the office as soon as Will had come out of surgery, but he was surprised to see Toby and Donna still keeping vigil. Maybe he shouldn't have been. Will was the only person Jed had ever met who Toby had taken to half as well as he did Sam. It almost made sense that he'd want to be around for both of them. He hadn't realized Donna and Sam were close, but knowing both their relationships with Josh, that made sense, too.
"Mr. President," Donna said softly, fatigue evident in her voice as she struggled to get to her feet. The others glanced over at him as well, and Jed held out a hand to still them.
"Don't get up," Jed said. "Any of you, really. I'm sorry I couldn't get out to see you sooner." Toby and Donna got up anyway, stepping aside so that Jed could take the seat next to Sam, who was doing his best to hide the open devastation that had been on his face before he looked up.
"Sam," Jed said, squeezing his shoulder as he sat down, "it's been awhile."
"Sorry, sir," Sam said quietly. "Things have just been... it's been busy."
"Understandable," Jed said. "I just wish it was under better circumstances." It was a cliché, but he didn't know what else to say in a situation like this. All that wanted to roll off his tongue was a long list of terrible clichés. They'd been here once before, bundled together in a hospital waiting room waiting for news, and he still had no idea what to say or do to even attempt to make any of it better. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Sam was... what? Gay? Dating Will? Whatever it was, it just made trying to talk to Sam worse.
As if someone heard his pleas, a new contingent of exhausted well-wishers arrived, taking the burden of conversation off of Jed's shoulders.
"Daddy," Elsie breathed softly, before stumbling to her feet and meeting General Thomas Bailey halfway across the room. Bailey looked... different. Tired and severe, yes, but without his uniform he seemed... almost normal. Jed couldn't remember ever seeing him dressed casually and the t-shirt and jeans looked oddly out of place. His wife, Barbara, stood right behind him, and behind her was... well, Jed assumed it was one of his other sons. He didn't know for sure which, though.
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner," Bailey said to Elsie. He held her close and then passed her over to her mother and extended a hand to Sam. "How are you holding up, son?"
Sam allowed himself to be hugged as well and laughed weakly and humorlessly. "I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight again," Sam said. "That's acceptable, right?"
"I tried to do the same thing when he broke his arm when he was seven," Bailey said. "He didn't take too well to it." Bailey released Sam and offered a hand to Jed. "Mr. President. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I honestly can't think of a worse reason for us to be socializing."
Jed shook Bailey's hand and offered his own wry grin. "I'm sorry about your boy, Tom," he said. "But he's been out of surgery for a few minutes now and they say he should be fine once he recovers. We can go in as soon as he regains consciousness." Bailey nodded once, still looking stern and authoritative, but there was a fear lingering underneath the surface that Jed recognized. He felt the same fear when his daughters' lives were threatened. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if those threats were carried out.
"Why don't you take a seat?" he suggested. "Tom, Barbara..." He turned to the young man still hovering on the sidelines, bespectacled, frazzled, and, despite the lighter hair, the spitting image of what he assumed Will would look like in ten years' time. "I'm sorry, son, I'd guess you're one of Will's brothers, but I didn't catch your name."
"Christopher," he said distantly, reaching out to shake Jed's hand. "I was just talking to him this afternoon. He was trying to convince me to come down with Dad and Barb to meet..." He turned slowly away from Jed and focused on Sam, who was standing next to Elsie and Barbara. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly to Sam. "I know he must like you. Normally he won't let me within twenty feet of anyone he's dating."
"We all like Sam," Barbara said, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder. Sam shot her a weak but grateful smile and Jed felt a surge of pride. He loved his girls, but he'd always wanted a son and Josh and Sam had so very much stepped into that role in the past six years. Sam, who trekked out to California and won a race that no one expected him to win. Sam, who was going to be his legacy. Was supposed to be his legacy. Now...
He didn't know what the world had in store for Sam. Logically, sensibly, humanely, nothing should change, but he knew the world wasn't logical, sensible, or humane. The odds of Sam keeping his seat in the House if this got out... he'd be lucky if they'd let him finish his term. It wasn't the sort of thing you bounced back from, and it hurt Jed almost as much as he knew it must be hurting Sam, if any part of him had even gotten past the idea of Will in a hopsital bed for long enough to think about his future. He remembered the shine in Sam's eyes when Jed had told him, unequivocally, that Sam was going to run for President one day. He knew that Sam wanted it for himself as much as Jed wanted it for Sam. He wondered, once this was all over, if Sam would be mourning.
Of course, if there was anyone in the history of the United States who could turn this around into Sam's favor, he knew without a doubt that it was his staff.
He glanced around, wondering where the staff in question had disappeared to. He assumed they slipped away to give him time with Will's family, though he hoped they knew they were more than welcome to stay and wait. Will had officially become one of them on Inauguration night, and Jed knew how much that meant to the rest of the staff.
He took a seat next to Bailey, who was still shell-shocked. His wife was speaking quietly to Elsie, who had begun to cry again.
"We're going to step out to the ladies room for a moment," Barbara said, putting an arm around Elsie's shoulders. "We'll be back in a few minutes."
"Of course," Jed said. Bailey just nodded weakly. Christopher and Sam were silent.
"I always thought Tom would be the one getting into trouble all the time," Bailey mused absently from the seat to Jed's left. "He was a rough and tumble sort of boy. Knew he wanted to join the military from the time he could walk. Always getting into fights, running around wild... he drove his mother up the wall. But he calmed down as he got older, learned to control his temper and his energy..." He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "No, it was Will who was the most trouble. He didn't mean it. He never looked for trouble like his brother did--trouble just found him. Constantly. He broke his arm falling down the stairs when he was seven. He got in the middle of fights without even realizing it, went exploring and managed to explore his way into ditches. At sixteen, he fell out of his bedroom window and got stuck in a bush trying to sneak out of the house. During his Air Force training, through no fault of his own his plane went down in the middle of an exercise. It was just like... he decided what he wanted and dove right in to get it without looking to see what stood in his way." He turned to Jed, straightening up. "Part of me has been expecting something like this to happen to him since that first fall down the stairs. Doesn't make it hurt any less."
He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. Before Jed could stop himself, he reached over to squeeze Bailey's wrist.
"He'll be okay, Tom," he said, and he believed it, if only because the other option was unimaginable.
"Mr. President?" Jed glanced up, surprised to see Will's young doctor standing in the hall. "Mr. Bailey's regained consciousness. You can see him now, if you'd like." Bailey nodded and got to his feet and Sam quickly followed.
"You guys go on," Christopher said. "I'm going to... I think I need to sit here for a moment."
"Take your time, son," Bailey said. "And I hope you'll join us, Mr. President."
"Of course, Tom," Jed said, following them out into the hallway.
Will's room was as bland as every other hospital room that Jed had ever been in. The walls were a dull pink color and the plastic chairs looked as uncomfortable as ever. None of that matter, though, when Will rolled over and opened his eyes.
"Hi, Dad," he said. He was squinting--his glasses were on the table next to the bed--and sounded a little dreamy.
"Hello, William," Bailey said.
"I got shot," Will said. "It hurt more than I thought it would."
"That's what you have to say?" Bailey said wryly. "That you were shot and it hurt? I'm glad I spent all that money on your supposedly exemplary education." He crossed to the bed and squinted at the machine standing next to it that was hooked into Will's IV. "Morphine. I should have known. Morphine's always made you a little loopy."
Will giggled, which seemed to break into Sam's breathless stupor. He lurched past Jed and over to the side of Will's bed.
"Hey," he breathed.
"I know you," Will said, breaking into a goofy grin. He reached out, fumbling, and managed to wrap his hand around the tips of Sam's fingers. "You need a haircut."
"You said that this morning," Sam said, his voice cracking a little on the last word.
"My dad's here," Will continued, gesturing absently towards Bailey.
"So's the President," Sam said. He sat on the edge of the bed, allowing Will to crane his neck to see where Jed was standing in the doorway. He took a few steps forward for Will's benefit and smiled.
"Hi," Will said. "I can't stand up."
"That's fine, Will," Jed said. "I'm gonna head back down the hall so you can spend some time with Sam and your family anyway. I just wanted to see how you were doing."
Will cocked his head to the side, as if he were considering it. "Good," he finally said.
"Can we quote you on that?" Jed joked.
"Sure," Will said. He gave Jed a dreamy smile and then looked at Sam again. "You're really..." He gestured vaguely with his free hand. "I like you."
"I like you too," Sam said softly.
Jed took that as his cue to leave. He raised a hand to Bailey, who waved back, and silently headed back to find the rest of his staff. They deserved an update, and Will deserved some quiet time with his family before everything went to hell.
***
It was the second briefing since Will woke up. That was where the trouble started.
"For those of you who missed the details last time," she said, "Will was shot twice, once in the shoulder and once in the chest. The first bullet was a through and through, but the second grazed his lung. He suffered a broken collarbone from where he fell on the floor and a minor bump on the head. He's awake, he's mostly functioning, and he's really enjoying the morphine they've got him on." She allowed time for laughter and then turned it over to the floor. "Any questions?"
"CJ," one of the newer reporters--Jim? Joe?--called out. "I heard a rumor that Sam Seaborn demanded to be let up to see Will Bailey the night he was shot. Any comment on that?"
CJ was good at this. She hadn't always been, but after four years of dodging bullets, both real and figurative, she knew her mask didn't slip as she said, "I don't know if I'd use the word 'demanded.' Sam and Will are close friends. Sam got Will his job and Will basically got Sam his. He was in the area and heard from one of the assistants in the White House what had happened. Of course he wanted to come up."
"CJ," Danny said quickly, before anyone else could try to poke holes in her story, "Has General Bailey released a statement yet? Do you know if he's planning on it?"
"I don't know, Danny, you'd have to ask him," she responded. "For those of you new to the game, Will's father is Chief Strategic Advisor to NATO and a former Supreme Allied Commander of NATO Europe. Luckily, he was in the States visiting one of his other sons when this happened. He's currently at the hospital with his wife and two of his other children, spending some time with Will."
The rest of the briefing went smoothly and no one revisited Sam's appearance at the hospital. CJ knew better than to think it would stay that way.
As soon as the briefing was over, she told Carol to grab Danny from the mob. Danny was already halfway to CJ's office by the time Carol was leaving to get him.
"Thank you for that," CJ said, closing the door to her office behind him. "I had it under control, but I appreciated it. I'm sure Sam and Will, idiots that they are, appreciated it too."
"I do what I can," Danny said. "And like I said that night, I like Sam. I like all of you. But once this breaks... if they're already sniffing around, this isn't going to be a secret for long."
CJ sighed and ran her hands through her hair as Danny took a seat on the edge of her desk. "You think I don't know that?" she asked. "Jesus, Danny, I knew this was going to happen. I knew it was going to happen from the moment Will told me and instead of preparing something, I stuck my head in the sand and crossed my fingers."
"You probably shouldn't have done that," Danny said helpfully.
CJ glared at him.
"Seriously, CJ, how long have you known?"
"Off the record," CJ asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Of course," Danny said. "I'm asking as a friend. Yours and Sam's."
"November," CJ said. She dropped into her desk chair. "It was stupidity at first sight, apparently." Danny snorted.
"Really, though, you should have come up with some sort of scenario in case it came out," he said. He looked serious and concerned and for a moment, CJ remembered that Danny was her friend. She remembered that Danny went through the campaign trail with them, that he threw them bones every once in awhile, that he liked her. Danny liked all of them, but he was a reporter, and as soon as this was public information, he'd be writing about it like the rest of them.
"I know that, Danny," she snapped. "You think I don't know that? It's my mistake, I screwed up, but..." She softened. She couldn't help it. "God, Danny, they're so happy. I just don't understand why this has to be a problem. They're in love. It's sickeningly sweet, yeah, but why is it any different than any other relationship between any other staffers here? Because they're both men?"
"Because they lied about it," Danny said simply.
"They did not," CJ said. "They did not say a single thing that can be proven to be false."
"That's just as bad," Danny said. "I mean really, CJ, do we have to go through the whole MS thing all over again? It's a lie of omission and people are going to be pissed." He paused and then shook his head. "And yeah, they're two men, and unfortunately, most of the country seems to think that makes them somehow less than the rest of the population."
"It's stupid and degrading!" CJ seethed.
"I agree," Danny said, "but that's the way things are and there's no way you're going to change that perception before someone starts digging into Sam and Will's affairs and this gets out. There's nothing you can do except hope that the sympathy from the shooting is enough for you guys to ride through this without too much damage."
She knew he was right, but she wasn't about to actually admit that.
She leaned over her laptop and started tapping her way through her e-mail.
"I have... things to do, Danny. I'll see you at the next briefing."
She heard Danny sigh and felt the desk shake slightly as he stood up. She heard the door open and then...
"But, CJ?"
She did look up at that.
"Tell Will that I'm glad he's okay, will you?"
She nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Sure. Thanks, Danny." He closed the door behind him.
When she heard it click shut, she sighed and closed her eyes. She needed a moment to herself before she dove into the mountain of work waiting for her. It was only going to get worse from here, and if she had any hope of escaping this week alive, she needed to take time to breathe while she still could.
***
William was trying, ineffectually, to eat Jell-o with his left hand when Thomas walked into his hospital room.
"Hey, dad," Will muttered, letting the spoon clatter to the tray in exasperation. Thomas sat down in one of the lurid orange plastic chairs next to the bed. It was Monday afternoon, two days since the shooting, and the doctors were optimistic that Will would be able to go home in the next few days. His mobility had improved slightly, although he wasn't thrilled about having his right arm in a sling, and keeping his arm immobile had the side effect of keeping the pain from his broken collarbone manageable.
"Hello, William," Thomas said, hiding his smile. "How are you feeling?"
"I miss the morphine," he said with a long-suffering sigh. "Although," he added, "I'm not sure I miss how I was acting on the morphine. God, I'm so lucky I didn't fall in with the stoners in college. My giggling probably would have driven my roommate insane."
Thomas chuckled. "How many times did you tell Sam he needed a haircut?"
Will groaned and covered his face with his left hand. "At least half a dozen. Of course, he still hasn't done it, so you can see how much impact my words have on him."
"Well," Thomas mused, "He probably hasn't had much time for it, what with being here every second of the day."
Will got quiet and looked back down at his Jell-o, making a feeble grab for his spoon. "Yeah, well," he said, a false brightness infusing itself into his voice, "he's probably trying to spend some time with me while he still can." Will managed to get another spoonful of Jell-o most of the way to his mouth, but his lips were set in an unhappy frown. Thomas was puzzled. He doubted Sam was the type to run away because he was afraid of Will getting hurt. The type to tie Will to a chair and never let him out of the house again, maybe, but Thomas just didn't see Sam abandoning him.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
Will sighed. "I know you know what's going on, Dad," he muttered. "The story is going to break any second now. I have no idea why it hasn't already, except that maybe they thought they should wait until a Monday afternoon so as to broadcast to the largest possible political audience." He let out a shaky breath. "Sam's a congressman, Dad. In one of the most conservative districts in California. If this gets out, his career is over. He's going to deny, deny, deny until people start to believe it. And they will, because Sam's a charmer and because he has that smile and knows the perfect way to phrase everything. But he'll have to back off. I won't be able to see him for weeks, maybe months. And in the end, I won't be surprised if it's easier for him to end it all together."
Will was silent for a long time before adding, "I'm ready for this, Dad. I came into this relationship knowing this was a real possibility." He looked up at Thomas, eyes bleak and empty with a forced smile on his face. "I'll be okay."
It was plain to see that he wasn't, that he wouldn't be, and Thomas felt something clench in his gut. He liked Sam, but more importantly, William liked Sam. Quite a lot, as far as Thomas could tell, more than he had liked any other man in a very long time. He wanted that little bit of happiness for his son, and if this took it away from him... well, Thomas was going to be very angry indeed.
"William, I very much doubt that Sam is going to end anything," he said.
"It's career suicide, Dad," Will muttered, looking away again. "For me, less so. I mean, Bartlet's pretty pro-gay rights and I'm just a lowly staffer. But Sam... god, Dad, Sam loves this. He loves politics, he loves making a difference, and I am not going to be the person who takes it away from him."
Thomas reached out and stroked Will's hair back from his forehead. William didn't acknowledge him with anything more than sharp intake of breath.
"You've told me about a million times that all that matters to you is my happiness because you love me." He took a deep breath. "Well, I love Sam. And I want him to be just as happy."
Thomas got up from where he was sitting and walked to the other side of the bed, the side with Will's good arm. Without preamble, he sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around Will, cautious of his injured side. William may have been in his thirties, but for a moment, he reminded Thomas of the little boy he held onto the night his first wife died.
"Did you ever think that you could make him happy too, William?" he said softly.
Will didn't say anything, but he hugged back tightly, which spoke for itself, really.
Once they had both regained their composure, they managed to have a normal conversation about the family and their jobs without losing too much of their dignity. Will gave the expected tirade against his brother Dean's fiancée and listened with amusement as Thomas recounted the disastrous dinner with Christopher and his rather peculiar wife and children the night that Will was shot.
When the nurse came in to take away Will's lunch tray, Thomas glanced outside and saw Sam hovering outside the door.
"I'll be right back, William," he said, getting to his feet. "Just have some business to take care of out in the hallway." Will tried to lean forward, but the curtain mixed with his broken collarbone kept him from seeing Sam lurking just outside the room. Thomas grinned easily at Will and slipped out of the room, taking Sam by the elbow and pulling him around the corner.
"Afternoon, Sam," he said, offering Sam his most non-threatening smile.
"Hi, Gen--um, Tom," Sam said, shifting hesitantly. After a beat, he added, "Um, how are you?"
"Good. I'm good, Sam," Thomas said. "I'll let you go in and see William, don't worry. But first, I want to ask you something."
"S-sure," Sam said, tugging at his collar. Thomas held back a chuckle. Good to know that his intimidation factor was still as effective as ever.
"You love my boy, Sam?"
Sam didn't stop fidgeting, but when he nodded his eyes were wide and clear and blue and Thomas knew he was telling the truth.
"That's all," he said, releasing Sam's elbow. "Go see Will."
Sam nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to flee, and this time Thomas did laugh. He wasn't sure what was going to happen once the press finally put together what was going on, but he had a feeling that neither Will nor Sam would have to go through it alone.
***
It took every ounce of pride within Sam not to turn around and watch Thomas Bailey over his shoulder as he retreated into Will's room as fast as humanly possible. He liked Thomas Bailey, he really did. Most of the time the General was almost nothing like Sam had imagined he'd be, but every so often he'd do or say something that would leave Sam fearing for his own life, sweating bullets, and swearing he'd never even think about mistreating Will.
Not that he would ever think about mistreating Will, but still.
"Any more comments about my hair today?" Sam managed to say once his nerves were settled and he was in Will's line of sight.
"You know," Will said, "I may have been high as a kite, but that doesn't mean what I said didn't have merit. If you don't get it cut soon, I'm going to start braiding it while you sleep."
Sam laughed and glanced around the room quickly before leaning over to kiss Will hello. What he really wanted more than almost anything was to climb into that bed next to Will and kiss him until they were both breathless, but given that Will had just been shot and they were probably on the precipice of having their relationship splashed across the front page of every paper, both reputable and less-than-reputable, in the country, if not the world, he curbed that instinct.
"Hey, did you see my dad?" Will asked. "He said he'd be right back." He leaned forward a little bit, as far as his sling would allow, and Sam gently pressed him back by his good shoulder.
"Yeah," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, actually, I did. Um, funny thing, about that." He bit his lip and glanced down at Will, who was starting to look slightly uncomfortable.
"Go on," Will said, after the silence started to stretch out.
"Um," Sam said. He looked out the window.
It wasn't that Sam was afraid to tell Will he loved him. Not really. In fact, he was pretty sure he had said it before, even if it was during sex. But something about Will in the hospital... something about Will's father, pulling him aside and asking him firmly and simply whether or not Sam loved Will...
"He stopped me in the hallway," Sam said finally. "On my way in. He asked me, um."
He wasn't going to stare out the window for this. He wouldn't let himself. Instead, he trained his eyes on Will.
"You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah," Will said, letting a breath out. "Yeah, I know that. And you know that it goes both ways?"
"Of course," Sam said, but he was frowning, because Will looked surprised and resigned and afraid and that certainly wasn't what he was going for with his declaration. "Will, what's wrong?"
Will pulled off his glasses, ostensibly to clean them off. He was staring down at his lap, rubbing a little harder at the lenses then was probably necessary.
"This is going to come out, Sam," he finally said. "Any second now. I wouldn't be surprised if we flipped on CNN and we were the top story of the hour."
"So?" Sam said, with more bravado than he felt.
"So," Will said slowly, finally looking up, "This is going to come out and you're going to lose your job. I'm going to lose my job. Sam, this is all going to go down in flames and this isn't what you signed up for. This isn't how your story is supposed to end, okay? And I'm..." He looked away again. "I'm willing to accept that."
Sam closed his eyes and sat down on the edge of Will's bed. He felt sick, the same way he felt every time he thought about the inevitable press conference and his inevitable resignation.
"I'm tired of lying," he said carefully, evenly. "I'm tired of treating this like it doesn't matter. My career isn't half as important as being honest with myself, and being honest with myself isn't half as important as being honest with you." He swallowed and opened his eyes, reaching for Will's free hand. Will stared at him. His expression was blank, but Sam could detect just the slightest bit of hope underneath the surface.
"This is going to suck," Will said. "A lot."
"That's probably an understatement," Sam agreed.
"They're going to dig into our personal lives," Will added.
"Then it's probably a good thing that we're boring as hell," Sam said.
That got a laugh out of Will, at the very least.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Will said, squeezing Sam's hand.
"Duly noted," Sam said. He reached for the remote and flicked on the television. "Wanna make a bet on how long it takes the story to break?" Will narrowed his eyes.
"No calling CJ and asking for tips," he said, pointing at Sam sternly with the hand in the sling.
"Okay," Sam said, "but I still say two hours, tops."
"Oh, wow," Will said. "I'm calling it waaaay before that."
Sam smirked and leaned back against the wall, sliding an arm very gingerly around Will's shoulders. A nurse ducked into the room and Sam didn't bother to move. Instead, he just smiled. "Okay, Bailey," he said. "You're on."