They were all in shock, but Toby felt like he was walking around in a haze, unable to see which way was the right way to go. Sam was in critical condition. It was touch and go whether he’d make it out of surgery, let alone recover after that. The bullet had shattered bone, which had in turn pierced internal organs, including the heart. It was a miracle that he wasn’t dead already, but Toby couldn’t even think to be grateful for that, not when Sam might still be snatched from him at any moment.
“Toby? Come on, sit down for a bit, okay?”
CJ’s voice made it through the miasma of pain, but from a distance. Toby looked into worried, pained blue eyes and wondered how she was doing. Frowning at himself for not realizing the pain that she’d be going through, she and Sam were especially close, Toby asked, “How are you doing?”
“Me? Toby, I’m fine,” CJ replied, surprised.
Shaking his head, Toby repeated, “How are you doing?”
She bit her lip before answering, “I’ll work it out, Toby. It’s you I’m worried about right now. You and Sam.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Toby…”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,” Toby insisted, neatly avoiding the hand she tried to rest on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”
He continued pacing in the waiting room, ignoring all the eyes that looked at him, sympathetic, worried, fearful, angry, all the emotions that he, himself, was ignoring in favor of a simple plea to whatever Creator existed…
“Sam, shut up.”
“Ainsley…”
“No! Saaam! Do you know what kind of trouble you can get in for breaching client-attorney privilege? Of course you do. Okay, how about the trouble I can get into for listening to you? Did you think of that?”
“Ainsley…”
“No! Just, shut up or I’ll call Toby.”
That, effectively, shut Sam up, as everyone knew it would, even Ainsley. She might not have been around for very long, but that was common knowledge. He sighed and apologized, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll just…go now.”
He climbed up the stairs that
led from Ainsley’s steam-room office and headed for
his own. Every since he’d gotten the news of the tanker running aground, he’d
been wracked with guilt over his part in it. A very small part, to be sure, but
it still gouged right at the heart and conscience of him. All these years
recycling and fighting to get better environmental laws in place and what
happens? A tanker that he helped someone to buy crashes off
the coast of
Unfortunately, Toby wasn’t the only one waiting for him. Sam’s steps slowed as he took in the serious faces of what had to be federal agents of some kind. Knowing that it was impossible for anyone to have moved so fast on what he’d been trying to tell Ainsley about the Indio deal, he took a few cleansing breaths and looked at Toby, asking, “What’s going on?”
“Sam, they’re here about the
Swallowing heavily, stomach clenched with fear, Sam said, “But, he’s a criminal attorney. I haven’t done anything.”
Toby walked over to him and gripped his shoulder. “Not a word, Sam. Understand me?”
“Yeah, okay. Yes,” Sam agreed.
“Samuel Seaborn,
under Imperial authority, you are hereby under arrest for five counts of
negligent homicide, under the Oil Pollution Control Act of 1990 and the
Maryland criminal code,” one of the agents announced, stepping forward to pull
his arms behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent...”
Stunned, the only thing that
Sam could think was that the cuffs felt a lot heavier than when he’d used them
in play with a lover. Logically, he knew that wasn’t true, that they were the
same weight and strength, but his wrists seemed to ache with their weight when
the cuffs were snapped into place. He was pulled away from Toby as the agent continued
reading him his rights, and couldn’t help but struggle and call out, “Toby?”
“Not a word, Sam!” Toby called back, not moving.
The walk through the West Wing and out to where the car waited was the longest he’d ever taken. Everyone stared at him, those he knew and those he didn’t, and his face was hot with shame. His heart pounded hard in his chest, adding to the sick feeling that spread through his whole body. It was a toss-up as to whether he’d lose his lunch or faint altogether by the time the agent pushed him carefully into the back seat of the car.
He didn’t remember anything of
the ride to the
The big man shook his head,
hazel eyes serious as he replied, “Toby took a bullet for me in
“But your reputation…”
“Will survive. My partner will probably even spin it as a good deed or something PR related. Don’t worry about me, worry about yourself,” Jack ordered.
Sam shivered and said, “I am, believe me.”
“Good. Because you’re in deep trouble, son,” Jack told him. “They’ve gone after everyone involved in the purchase of the tanker, all the way down to your old boss at Gage Whitney. They’re going to make an example of this case. Honestly, I think they’ve just been waiting for someone to mess up big enough so that they could.”
Wrapping his arms around himself, Sam asked, “So what can I expect?”
“What was your involvement?”
Therein followed a detailed explanation of the several meetings between Sam’s old law firm and the company who had purchased the tanker that had crashed. He explained that he was the one who’d exclusively set up the liability clause, as well as the only one to advise them to buy another tanker entirely. That he’d explained the problems with it and what would, most likely, happen in the future if they went through with the purchase.
“Now, you set up the clause, but you weren’t there for the final purchase.”
Sam shook his head. “No. See, Josh had come to get me to work on The President’s campaign by then and I had quit.”
Sighing as he looked over his notes, Jack admitted, “That might be the only thing saving you from a hard labor, or public execution. You did excellent work, Sam, and they’re going to argue that you knew the tanker was faulty and were conspiring to keep them from the consequences of a collision.”
“But that’s not true!” Sam exclaimed, angry and scared. “I mean, yes, I knew it could have problems down the line, I even told them not to buy it! I told them what would happen!”
“But you wrote the clause anyhow.”
“Well yes, it was my job and…”
“And that’s what’s screwing you now.”
Sam groaned and pressed the heel of his hand to his eye. “So what now?”
“Now you’ll be held in custody until the trial,” Jack answered. “You’ll be kept in segregation, so you don’t need to worry about being hurt or knocked around while in custody. Everyone knows exactly whose favorite son you are, so they’re going to take great care of you until you’re convicted.”
Sam’s stomach sank again and he whispered, “It’s set? I can’t win?”
“No, Sam. You’re looking at convict status where, at best, someone from the West Wing can buy you,” Jack answered regretfully. “Maybe, if no one had died it would be different, but five of the crew were killed in the crash and subsequent explosions. As it is, I wouldn’t bet on any of the executives getting out of this with their lives. They’re ganging up on you.”
“How’s that?” Sam asked, morbidly curious.
“Imperial, Federal, and State
laws are not only in accordance, but each are allowed to impose additional
fines and punishments. This will be tried in an
A thought struck Sam and he started laughing helplessly.
Jack gave him a worried look. “Sam? Are you okay?”
Waving at him, Sam wiped the tears from his eyes and said, “It’s just the irony of the situation, it just hit me.”
“What did?”
“I helped set up the tougher Federal environmental laws. I courted the environmentalists both as a sop to my own conscience and the President,” Sam told him, feeling like he could start crying for real, but keeping it together as best he could. “So. What’s the worst that’s going to happen to me? Will I be executed?”
Jack hesitated, then told him honestly, “Hard labor camp. You’re not high-level enough in their conspiracy to deserve execution.”
“Oh Gods,” Sam groaned, holding on to himself tight. “This can’t be happening to me. It can’t be happening.”
“Toby Ziegler?”
Toby jumped a little at the call of his name and his head jerked over to where a sober-faced doctor stood in surgical gowns. They were clean ones, at least, so he didn’t have to witness Sam’s blood all over them. Nodding tightly, he said, “That’s me. How is he?”
“He survived the surgery, which is a miracle,” the doctor told him bluntly. “I don’t know how he did it.”
“He’s a fighter,” Josh said from behind.
The doctor nodded. “He is. All we can do now is wait. He’s being moved to intensive care right now and we’ll be keeping a close watch on him for any complications. I don’t want to raise your hopes, because his body has suffered a great trauma and lost a lot of blood. If he has any kind of reaction to the plasma, or develops an infection…I don’t think he’ll make it.”
Josh’s hand gripped Toby’s shoulder and he stated, “He’s going to make it.”
“Keep the faith, gentlemen, it might be all that’s keeping Sam alive,” the doctor replied. “I’ve arranged for you to see him, Mr. Ziegler. You can go on down to the ICU any time now.”
“Thank you,” Toby finally managed to say, before the doctor left. He looked at Josh and asked, “Will you let CJ and the others know? I’m going to go down now.”
“Yeah, of course,” Josh confirmed.
Toby headed for the elevators, still numb.
The courtroom was packed, of course, as everyone strained to get a glimpse of Sam Seaborn brought low. All the vultures were present, though thankfully devoid of cameras and recording devices. Only sketch artists had been allowed into the courtroom over the last week, which was something of a relief. That wouldn’t stop the reporters from exaggerating the truth until it didn’t even resemble itself, though.
Toby took his seat behind the defense table, just as he’d done every single day since the debacle had begun, and waited for Sam to be brought in. It had been a month since the younger man’s arrest and the time clearly hadn’t been good for him. Cut off and alone, clearly scared out of his mind and trapped by the downward spiral of depression, Sam had lost a lot of weight. Perversely, it looked good on him, giving him a slightly ethereal cast, even in the ugly prison jumpsuit. Those blue eyes seemed all the bigger and more frightened, set in the sharp relief of his face.
He stood when the door opened and tried to catch Sam’s gaze, but Sam seemed too ashamed to meet it. Jack had told him that Sam was the most upset about bringing shame into the West Wing and the President, no matter how many times Jack tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault. Of course, it didn’t help that none of them could visit him and reassure him that the President was fully behind him. Sam was on 24-hr suicide watch because the government wasn’t about to let him die until they were good and ready to kill him; the irony of the ages.
“I’m here, Sam,” Toby said quietly, reaching over to grip the almost frail shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. No matter what, you’re going to be all right.”
Sam shook his head wordlessly, refusing to be drawn into conversation, and then the Judge arrived. Withdrawing his hand, Toby remained standing as everyone else got to their feet to honor the Judge.
Once the court settled back down, the Judge stated, “In accordance with Imperial law, this Court finds the defendant, Samuel Seaborn, guilty on all counts. His freedom is stripped and he is to be sold into a single household as penance for his crime, to be used in whatever manner his owner sees fit. This verdict is final, by the power vested in me by His Imperial Highness. Court is adjourned.”
Sam fell limply into his chair, raising horrified eyes to Toby at last. “Toby, I can’t…I can’t…please, help me?”
Toby reached for him, but the guards were already there and yanked Sam to his feet, dragging him away. Turning to Jack, he said, “Paperwork in place?”
Jack nodded. “The President spoke to the Judge this morning and while I think the fee is outrageous, even for a slave of Sam’s quality, you can pay it and he’ll be yours.”
Knowing that he wouldn’t relax until Sam was actually in his care, Toby ordered, “Do it. And thanks, Jack. I know you took a big hit on this one.”
“Not as big a hit as you did for me, back when,” Jack countered. “Besides. Sam’s a good kid in a really bad situation. I was glad to help. We won’t be hurting for long, believe me.”
Toby believed him; Jack’s firm was one of the most successful in DC. “I’ll be in the side lot.”
“I’ll bring him out for you in half an hour.”
Walking out of the courtroom, Toby ignored all the cameras and the babble of questions as he strode to his car in the side parking lot. Starting the car, he drove away, knowing that the best way to mislead the vultures at the courthouse was to make them think that Sam was on his own and being processed into the system without any help. They would snoop around for the date of his auction from the comfort of their own offices and, by then, Sam would be safely in Toby’s hands.
He made it back to the parking lot with three minutes to spare and was glad to see there weren’t any reporters left. Getting out of his car, Toby leaned against it and waited for Jack and Sam to come out. It was another five minutes before that happened and, just as he was starting to get worried, Toby saw them exit through a little-used door on the side of the building.
Straightening, Toby walked to meet them half-way, relieved that there weren’t any physical signs of abuse taking place in the scant time that Sam had spent in the system. Aside from the emotional trauma of becoming a slave, Sam wouldn’t be exposed to any of the harsh realities of a slave’s life; Toby had made that his mission in life. He was dressed far too thinly for the cold, DC afternoon and Toby took his coat off to drape over Sam’s shoulders.
Sam looked stunned to see him and asked blankly, “Toby?”
“It’s me, Sam,” he confirmed. “Come on. Let’s get you home now.”
“But…”
Gripping Sam’s shoulder, Jack explained, “Toby bought you, Sam. He’s going to take care of you from now on.”
“And if anything happens to me, you go to CJ, and then Leo, and then President Bartlett,” Toby informed him. “No one’s ever going to hurt you Sam, we’ve made sure of it.”
“I…but, where’s Josh?” Sam asked, scanning the parking lot.
“
Biting his lip uncertainly, Sam nodded. “So. Um. Now what?”
Toby said firmly, “Now we go home. Bye, Jack. Thanks for your help.”
Jack waved and headed for his own car, leaving them alone.
Guiding Sam towards the car with a hand on his back, Toby opened the door and helped him in. As he walked over to the driver’s side, he was pleased to see Sam reach across the space to open the door for him. Hopefully this wouldn’t be so bad. He could keep his desire for Sam in check and Sam could lead as normal a life as possible, even while Toby’s slave. The Judge had phrased it so that Sam could work wherever Toby saw fit, so they would get a security clearance for him and he would just work out of the West Wing like before.
No problem.
* * * *
Sam clutched to Toby’s coat as they walked into his townhouse, not sure what was going to happen now that he legally belonged to one of his best friends. He knew without a doubt that Toby wouldn’t take advantage of him, that wasn’t a concern, but how would he face his other friends knowing that he was a slave now? Toby had been there throughout the whole trial, a staunch presence that had comforted him. Sam hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the others since the day of his arrest. No matter what Jack had said, something was very wrong or they would’ve been there for him.
“I got hold of your stuff and had it put in the basement. Well, except for the furniture, since there’s no room for it,” Toby said. “But your clothes, papers, pictures, books, all your personal stuff, it’s here. The clothes are upstairs in the guest room, you can sleep there. You know where everything is, so, help yourself to whatever you need.”
Facing Toby, Sam asked, “What about, everyone else?”
Toby shrugged. “Everyone knows that I bought you. I’m going to arrange for you to get a security clearance so you can work with us still and…”
“No!” Sam exclaimed, horrified.
Surprised, Toby asked, “No, what?”
“I can’t, Toby, I can’t face them, not after what happened! Not now that I’m, I’m a slave.”
“Sam, it wasn’t your fault. Everyone knows that they made an example of you and the others.”
Sam shook his head. “Please, Toby, don’t make me go back into the office. I can’t face them. Please.”
Toby looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, scratching at his beard as he acquiesced, “If that’s how you want it Sam, but they’re your friends. They love you and don’t care what status you are.”
“They will,” Sam muttered, staring at the floor.
“I think you’re underestimating everyone, but you’re still in shock so I’ll let it slide for now. Why don’t you take a shower and relax? I’ll order something in. What’re you in the mood for?”
“Um, something light?”
“Vegetarian crap coming up.”
And with that, Sam discovered that yes, he could still smile.
* * * *
The first week of living with Sam was both wonderful and torture. Toby took the week off so he could make sure that Sam was comfortable with his new situation and, of course, to get more comfortable with it himself. The thing of it was, Sam was completely at ease around Toby. There was no residual resentment, or anger, or anything, except the friendship that they had before; at least so far as Toby could tell. They decided that first night that unless they were around other people, there was no need for Sam to act like a slave.
Toby might have his private fantasies, but he certainly wasn’t going to act them out on Sam.
When he had to go back to work the following week, it was pretty much just like if Sam was out sick and telecommuting. They IM’d all day, sent email drafts back and forth of various speeches, and talked on the phone a few times. Everyone stopped by his office at some point that day to ask after Sam and he gave the same answer to them all… “Sam’s not ready to come in, yet.” Which was true, and knowing how sensitive Sam was, no one even questioned the explanation.
The second and third week that Sam was there, Toby made an odd discovery about his friend that he never would have suspected: Sam liked to cook. Every night that Toby came home, it was to find a real dinner on the stove and almost ready to be eaten, even the nights that he came home late. When Toby finally broke down and asked about it, Sam admitted with a flush, “I call Donna and she gives me the ETA on when you’re coming home.”
“Why don’t you just ask me?” Toby questioned, puzzled.
Sam grinned. “Because you’re the worst person to ask. Five minutes to you is about two hours to everyone else. She calls me when you’ve got your coat on and have actually made it out of the building.”
“But how does she see when I’m out of the building?”
“Margaret.”
“Margaret?”
“Yeah. See, she knows…”
“Never mind.”
Sam’s grin got bigger and he said, “I didn’t think you wanted to know. Now sit and eat before it gets cold.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Toby replied, not in the least sarcastic. His mouth was watering at the smell of garlic and spices.
Over dinner, they talked about various things, just as they always did, until Sam said, “I never thanked you. For all of this. For, for me. My life, I mean. If it weren’t for you, who knows where I would be, who I could have wound up with.”
Toby tried to wave it off with, “You’re my friend, Sam…”
“Just like Josh and CJ and everyone else at the West Wing, but no one shelled out any cash to buy me. You’re the only one who did it, Toby,” Sam interrupted, earnest. “So thank you.”
Feeling awkward, not wanting to really get into motivations and why everyone else knew better than to go up against him buying Sam, especially Josh, Toby finally just said, “You’re welcome.”
Sam smiled, relieved, and started eating again.
When they were done eating, Toby started to help him clear the dishes, but Sam shook his head and shooed him out to watch television. Sensing that it would make matters worse to argue, though he wanted to, Toby left the dining room for the living room and turned on the tv. He could hear Sam puttering around as he put the dishes into the dishwasher, and then cleaned up the table.
Following the routine they’d established in the past couple of weeks, Sam came into the living room and sat on the sofa with Toby. They watched the news as the channels were flipped between CNN, MSNBC and local stations in a pattern that Toby didn’t consciously think up. He stiffened a bit when Sam scooted closer than was necessary, enabling Toby to feel the heat coming from the other man’s body in a very distracting manner.
After a discreet amount of time, Toby stood up and asked, “You thirsty? You want something to drink? I’m going to get something to drink. Be right back.”
Toby escaped to the kitchen and went to the fridge, even though he wasn’t really thirsty. Not to mention that drinking something this late would only make him get up to use the bathroom at an ungodly hour, but he was committed now. He grabbed a soda and turned around to find Sam standing not two feet away, leaning on the island block, looking at him.
“If you drink that now, you’ll have to pee at one in the morning and again at three. Put it back, Toby,” Sam ordered, smiling.
Toby made a show of grumbling, but put it back. Crossing his arms over his chest, he demanded, “What?”
Shrugging, Sam said, “There are two reasons that you keep moving away from me when I get too close. One, you’re not attracted to me at all and embarrassed that I might think you are. Or two, you are attracted to me and don’t want to take advantage. Which is it, Toby?”
Toby glared at him. “It’s neither. How’s that enter the equation for you?”
“Toby, come on. This is a lifetime deal we’ve got here, unless you decide to sell me,” Sam said, keeping his cool. “If I’m off base here, then just tell me and it’s dropped. But I’m here for you, if you want me. Hell, Toby, you own me. You could’ve fucked me that first day, but you didn’t. So many men would have. I know Josh would have.”
“I’m not Josh,” Toby snapped.
Sam smiled and agreed, “I know. And as much as I love Josh, I’m glad that it’s you who bought me.”
Getting a glimmer of where this might be coming from, Toby said, “You don’t have to do anything to, to please me, Sam. You being you does that. I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything that you don’t want to do. If you’re not into guys, you don’t have to become it, to make sure I don’t sell you. I’ll never sell you, Sam, and you can trust that. You can trust me.”
“Toby, are you ever going to get back with Andi?”
The question completely threw him. “Excuse me?”
“Are you ever going to get back with her? I know you still love her,” Sam replied.
“Ah, that’s not, I don’t know,” Toby answered, flustered. “Why?”
“Because as far as I know, you haven’t been seeing anyone since the two of you split up.”
“I haven’t. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Toby…” Sam’s voice trailed off and he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Look. I’ve never been with another man, but I would, for you. I…I care about you and want you to be happy. And yes, I am grateful for what you’ve done for me, but that’s only part of it. I don’t want you to be lonely anymore. I think that you’ve been lonely for too long as it is.”
All of which meant more to Toby than he could really express. As good with words as he was, when it came to talking to someone important to him about how he felt, he might as well be a mute.
Sighing, he finally said, “I don’t want you to do that because you think I’m lonely, Sam, but thanks. And I don’t want you doing something because you’re grateful, or because you think you have to. You’re not into men, that’s fine. Generally, I’m not either. I won’t lie. I want you, have for a long time now, but that’s not enough. And I’m damn sure not going to use you like that, so just think again, okay? Now, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day. Good night, Sam.”
“Night, Toby,” Sam replied, subdued.
Toby ignored the urge to pull Sam into his arms and comfort him, and went to bed.
Taking Sam’s hand in his, Toby couldn’t help but remember the last time his lover had been so frail and near death. It had been pneumonia, about a year after Sam had become his slave. The young man had passed it off as a bad cough for too long to everyone in the West Wing, telecommuting into the office. Add to that Toby having been away on business for almost a month steady and it had been relatively easy for the slave to pull off the deception.
Of course, the lies had almost killed him and Toby had blistered his ass for it just as soon as he was healthy enough to take the beating. There were no lies this time, though, and Sam was again fighting for his life. It seemed as though every time something good happened in their lives, they were jerked back to the awareness that bad things and evil people lurked right around the corner.
“Oh, Sam,” Toby breathed, fighting the tears that continually threatened. “Don’t you dare die on me, or I swear I’ll follow you into your heathen afterlife. You fight and you live, understand? I can’t lose you.”
He leaned forward to kiss the limp hand, then pressed his cheek to it, struggling to retain control.
* * * *
Peering into the window of the ICU room, Josh saw Toby bent over Sam’s hand and the shaking of his shoulders before turning to CJ. “What did Leo say?”
“That they caught the guys who did it,” CJ answered. “They’re being held and questioned by the Secret Service right now.”
“I hope they castrate the fuckers with a dirty blade,” Josh snarled.
“They’re hired killers, Josh, not sex offenders.”
“I don’t care!”
CJ ordered sharply, “Lower your voice!”
Glaring at her, Josh pulled himself back, not wanting to get thrown out of the hospital before he got to see Sam for real, instead of through glass. “Ideology yet?”
“Right to lifers, believe it or not,” CJ replied.
Josh gaped at her. “Excuse me? What the hell were they targeting Sam for?”
CJ sighed and told him, “They weren’t. Toby and Sam were meeting with Lisa Procter for lunch.”
The loudest of the already loud voices demanding the right for women to be able to have abortions on their own say-so. Toby and Sam were fully supportive of the movement, though of course only Toby’s voice officially counted these days. “So Lisa was the target?”
“Yes. And she’s in protective custody.”
“Were they just a bad shot?”
“They think Sam saw something and jumped on her.”
Josh sighed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
CJ’s lips quirked as she agreed, “No, it wouldn’t.”
“We really need to cure him of that hero impulse,” Josh said wryly.
“Hey!”
“No offense.”
“Some taken.”
“Quiet down now, kids,” Leo’s voice said unexpectedly from behind. “How’s he doing?”
Josh and CJ turned to face their boss simultaneously and Josh answered, “He’s still critical. Toby’s in there now. We can hang around out here, but that’s it. Only one person’s allowed in there at a time.”
“And Toby’s not going to budge,” Leo finished.
CJ smiled faintly. “Not likely. How’s Lisa?”
Leo shrugged and relayed, “Shaken with a flesh wound where the bullet went through Sam and along her arm, but otherwise fine. She’ll live to screech another day.”
“Leo,” CJ protested.
Holding up a hand, Leo apologized, “Sorry, CJ. Look, I’ve got to get back, but I wanted to at least see how things were going here in person. I’ll talk to the doctor on the way out.”
“Don’t bother,” Josh told him. “He’s convinced Sam’s going to die. Can’t believe that he made it this far.”
Troubled now, Leo said, “Okay. Well, keep me posted.”
CJ nodded. “We will.”
They watched him go and Josh sighed as he looked back at the door through which they couldn’t pass. It was going to be a long couple of days until Sam was out of the woods, no damn doubt about that.
Sam couldn’t remember being this frustrated since he was fifteen and hadn’t yet been able to get Gina Farrell to go further than second base. Worse than that, because he couldn’t even get Toby to reopen the subject of them becoming lovers since that discussion almost five months ago. Forget any actual physical interaction. He could parade naked around the house and Toby would only ask if he was warm enough without anything on. He could make the most suggestive innuendos and Toby would take them solely at face value.
He was starting to think that he was going to have to take a page from Josh’s book and just jump the man for either of them to get any satisfaction.
Grumbling to himself, Sam stretched out on Toby’s office sofa to go over the speech they’d been working on for the last two days straight. He wasn’t happy with the last two pages and had told Toby about it just that morning, but something had been distracting his owner. All Toby had said was to go ahead and fix it, that he didn’t need approval for something like that. He’d been distracted for a few days now, which was why the speech was taking so long, but wouldn’t talk about what was on his mind.
Sam tapped a pencil against the notebook in staccato, but it didn’t help focus his thoughts any. When the door opened, he demanded, “How do you think I can get this done if you’re not even around to talk to about it?”
“I guess that depends on what you’re trying to accomplish.”
Just about falling off the sofa at Andi’s unexpected response, Sam scrambled to his knees and greeted, “I’m sorry, Congresswoman Wyatt, I thought that you were Master Ziegler come back.”
“I can see that,” she replied, amused. “It’s okay, Sam, you don’t have to stand on ceremony with me, either. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
Sam got to his feet and said, “Any moment now, if he wasn’t caught up somewhere. You know how it is.”
Nodding, Andi agreed, “I do. Mind if I wait here for him?”
“Of course not. Can I get you something to drink or eat?” Sam offered. He didn’t especially like playing hostess to Toby’s ex-wife, but he wasn’t going to give the woman anything to bitch to Toby about.
“No, I’m fine thanks.”
Sam stood helplessly in place as she took his spot on the sofa. Feeling very much displaced, in more than one sense of the word, he said, “I’m just going to, there’s this thing…”
“Go, I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
Grateful for the respite, Sam took off, glad there was a tail to hang between his legs. He hated meeting up with Andi and always had. She was so…nice…and good and honorable and driven and every single thing that Toby loved and admired about women in general, and his ex-wife in particular. Even before being Toby’s slave, Sam had always felt competitive with her for no reason that he’d been able to figure out at the time. He knew exactly why, now though.
Taking his notepad over to Donna’s desk, he asked, “Can I sit here?”
Donna grinned at him and questioned, “Her highness take your spot?”
“Yes,” Sam confirmed, sighing.
“Grab a chair. I’m just organizing Josh for about the tenth time this month.”
“Hey, that’s pretty good. It’s already the fifteenth, right?”
They shared a grin at Josh’s expense.
“Did I hear my name being taken in vain?” Josh demanded as he walked over to them.
Sam gave him an innocent look. “Who, us?”
“That’s what I thought,” Josh muttered, snorting. Then he noticed Toby’s office was occupied and asked, “Hey, is that Andi? I should go say hi. Stay out of trouble, you two.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Donna said snidely, “It’s not like he’s got a shot with her. And even if he did, Toby would kill him if he tried.”
Sam sighed. “I wish he would take a shot at her, and get her, too.”
“Still not talking about it?” Donna asked, commiserating.
Pulling a chair over, Sam sat beside her and complained softly, “I’ve done everything short of pushing my ass in his face, Donna, what the hell do I do? He said that he wants me, but he’s being so damn honorable, I could kill him.”
She patted his shoulder. “I know, honey, and I wish I could help, but Toby hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Sam assured her automatically. “He just…doesn’t understand you.”
“Like I said. I could be…”
When Donna’s voice trailed off, Sam turned to see what she was looking at and sighed upon seeing Toby straightening his tie on the way to his office. Andi and Josh were clearly visible through the large window and Sam’s heart sank as he saw the enthralled expression on Toby’s face.
Donna rubbed his shoulder and sympathized, “I know how you feel.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed, sighing.
“Come on. Let’s get something to eat and leave them to their little get together,” Donna said, taking Sam’s arm and practically dragging him up, out of the chair.
With a last look at Toby, who was now gazing at Andi with something like badly-concealed adoration, Sam sighed again and allowed himself to be taken from the office.
* * * *
For the first time since
becoming a slave, Sam had the highly unpleasant experience of truly being one.
Toby called the office to ask CJ to take him home so that he could go to dinner
with Andi. That alone would have been bad enough, trying to act normal with CJ
when she knew perfectly well that he was trying to get Toby’s attention for
himself. But then, around
He listened as they talked and laughed together, clearly more than buzzed, but probably not really drunk. Toby could put away a lot of alcohol when he wanted to, though Sam had no idea of Andi’s tolerance levels. They sounded so comfortable together that he wanted to scream, if only to break up the picture of reconciliation that he knew they were making in the living room downstairs. Even worse, they both ascended the stairs and he heard the low, hungry timber to Toby’s voice answering the warm, sexy quality of Andi’s.
“Oh Gods, they’re going to have sex,” Sam muttered.
The walls were thin enough for him to hear when Toby had bad dreams, he was damn sure going to hear them having sex. Groaning softly at the torture to come, Sam pushed his pillow over his face to block it out as much as possible. It worked pretty well for a while, but then he heard Andi’s breathless moans getting louder and louder, Toby’s grunts, and the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of the headboard against the wall.
Against his will, his own cock grew hard. He could picture Toby fucking hard and steady into Andi’s slender body, pushing his cock into her cunt over and over in that untiring way he had with everything that Toby considered a priority. The soft, feminine cries of need grew louder until all Sam could hear was, “Harder, oh God, Toby, please, please, harder!”
Sam gripped his shaft and stroked it, unable not to, his body tight with need. Planting his feet against the mattress, he thrust into the tight fist his hand made, jacking himself off in time to the lovers in the next room. He came faster than either of them, spilling hard over his fingers, panting at the bittersweet release that felt more like punishment than orgasm.
After cleaning himself off, Sam did his best to ignore the passionate noises that came from Toby’s room for a lot longer.
* * * *
Sam wasn’t all that sure what to do when he woke the next morning. He stayed where he was until he heard the lighter tread of Andi leaving the bedroom and walking quietly downstairs. There was no way that he could hear the door open or close, so Sam stayed in bed, just to be on the safe side. He had no intention of meeting up with a well-fucked Andi. Toby actually got up before Sam did, thumping downstairs with his usual mumbles and grumbles.
Staring at the ceiling, Sam wondered what the hell he was going to do. Meeting up with a well-fucked Toby didn’t exactly rank high on his list, either, but he had to face the man sooner or later. Later seemed a much better idea so, when Toby climbed the stairs again and tapped on Sam’s door, he turned over and faced the wall.
“Sam? You awake?” Toby called through the door. There was a pause before the door opened and he asked, “Sam?”
Sam tugged the blankets up a little higher and didn’t quite lie as he said, “I don’t feel well.”
Walking over to the bed, Toby asked, “What’s wrong?”
I had to listen to you fuck your ex-wife three times last night, what do you think? Sam snapped silently to himself. Out loud, he just sighed and answered, “My stomach. I think it was something I ate.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have a fever, do you? Maybe you got food poisoning. Where did CJ bring you for supper, anyhow?” Toby questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Even though he didn’t want to talk, Sam knew Toby wouldn’t go away until his concerns were satisfied. Sighing again, he twisted onto his back and finally looked at Toby. The other man looked relaxed, but worried, neither a big surprise and Sam told him, “We went to Mariston’s and I had broiled salmon, so it probably wasn’t cooked right.”
Toby pressed his palm to Sam’s forehead and frowned as he combed his fingers through Sam’s hair. “You don’t feel warm.”
“You want to take my temperature?” Sam asked, somewhat snappish.
Startled, Toby hesitated, then said, “Sam, last night with Andi...”
Not wanting to hear any excuses or explanations, and certainly not wanting to hear any platitudes, Sam interrupted, “Is none of my business. You have your own life, Toby, and every right to have one. Andi’s a great woman and I know how much you love her. It’s no big deal. I just pretended that I was back in college, that’s all.”
Toby continued to look at him for a long moment, before replying, “Okay. Good. All right, I’ll stop pestering you and let you get back to sleep. Call me if you need anything.”
Sam nodded, and turned back over to face the wall, hitching the blankets up tight and praying that Toby would just leave. He got his wish, as Toby stood and silently left the bedroom only a few seconds later. Sam closed his eyes, but knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.
* * * *
“Did you have fun last night?”
Toby had known that CJ would be in a fighting mood even just from the short phone conversation they’d had the night before. It hadn’t stopped him from asking her to take Sam home and wasn’t about to make him guilty or defensive. Forcing a smile, he answered the snide question, “I did, as a matter of fact. How about you?”
“Well,” CJ began. “I didn’t have sex with any of my ex’s while my helplessly in love with me slave was listening and eating his heart out. But other than that, it was fine.”
Toby’s teeth gritted together. “It’s none of your business, CJ. Just leave it alone.”
“Are you kidding me?” CJ exclaimed, stepping fully into the office and slamming the door behind her. “Toby. I know you have this, this blind spot where Andi is concerned, but she’s not going to come back to you. She’s got a lot more on her plate than just you. You’re not even a dessert. Maybe a couple of breadsticks, but that’s about it.”
“Thanks for the culinary simile, CJ, I need to get to work now,” Toby snapped.
Okay, maybe a little defensive.
Jabbing a finger at him, CJ snapped back, “Sam can’t make you do anything. Sam can’t even tell you how he feels because you shut him down every damn time. I’ve been watching him take your shit for months now and I’m seriously pissed here.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Tobias.”
Toby scowled and replied, “What does or doesn’t happen between me and Sam is no one’s business but ours.”
“But you’re not even making it your business! Jesus, Toby, haven’t you noticed how depressed he is? How lonely he is?”
Baffled, Toby asked, “What are you talking about? Sam’s fine! He’s the same as he’s always been.”
“No, he’s not. And if you can’t see that, then you need a good swift kick in the ass,” CJ stated bluntly. “And I would be happy to administer it.”
They glared at each other for a few minutes, then Toby gave in with a sigh. “I did notice he was...quieter...lately. But when I do ask him about it, he insists that he’s fine.”
“Because all you want from him is...hold on, what do you want from him?” CJ questioned.
It was only by whit of his long-time poker face that Toby kept from blushing at the thoughts that instantly sprang to mind of just what he wanted from Sam. Clearing his throat, he told her, “I want Sam to be happy. And that does not include putting out for me.”
CJ gave a screech and looked like she wanted to throw something at him. Instead, she shouted, “It does so, you moron!”
Taken aback, Toby protested loudly, “Sam’s not into guys!”
“He’s into you! Although by now, I’m starting to wonder why.”
“Is this a private fight, or can anyone join in the harangue?”
CJ and Toby both jumped to attention at The President’s amused question. Toby began with an apologetic, “I’m sorry, Sir...”
“No, that’s okay, Toby. It’s your office, you can get yelled at in it, in peace,” the President interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I just came down to stretch my legs for a bit. Would you mind walking with me?”
Certain that only ill could come of this, Toby nonetheless nodded and agreed, “Of course, Sir.”
“You can finish your scolding later, CJ,” the President told her, smiling. “I promise.”
She returned the smile and replied, “Thank you, Sir.”
The walk was conducted in silence, aside from the quiet greetings to others in the hall as Toby followed President Bartlett outside to the Rose Garden. The Secret Service agents were a constant presence that he generally overlooked, but seemed especially menacing for some reason just then.
Once outside, President Bartlett observed, “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir,” Toby concurred honestly. The sun was warm, but not hot, and the sky a brilliant, clear blue; it was spring and the humidity and clinging heat had, as yet, to hit the Capital city.
“Have a seat.”
Toby sat on the bench where indicated, knowing better than to protest.
The President took a few minutes to organize his thoughts before saying, “When I arranged for you to buy Sam, it was with the understanding that you were the best match. Abby and I both discussed it. Leo even chimed in on the matter. We felt that you were best suited to Sam’s...sensitive nature...that you would protect him from all the ills that so often befall a slave. Not only that, we thought that having him in your care would prevent some kind of...staff division...over his welfare.”
Unsure of what to say, Toby merely replied, “Yes, Sir.”
“So why is it that I find my staff divided, Sam looking like a ghost, and you ready to take CJ’s head off?” President Bartlett questioned. He leaned in a bit and added conspiratorially, “Notice that I didn’t ask about CJ taking off yours.”
Toby’s lips quirked. “I noticed, Sir.”
“Well? What is it, Toby? You know you can talk to me,” the President said, finally sitting beside him. “I know you’re not too keen on the slavery thing in general, but it’s a fact of life, no matter how loudly the abolitionists scream.”
Sighing, Toby shifted so he could look the President in the eye and answered simply, “I love my ex-wife, Sir.”
The President shook his head and said sympathetically, “She doesn’t feel the same.”
“I know. I do know that, no matter what CJ thinks,” Toby replied. “It’s just...I don’t want to use Sam like that. I care about him too much.”
“Toby. It’s more the ill-use that I’m worried about, along with everyone else.”
Toby stiffened. “With respect, Sir, but I do not ill-use him.”
“Abby warned me not to meddle,” the President muttered. Standing, he said, “No one can tell you how to feel, but don’t forget that the same applies to Sam. The major difference being that he can’t afford not to grow attached to you. You’re his life, Toby, as much as you hate to hear that or admit it. Sam belongs to you, now. Every part of him. Emotional, physical, mental, it’s all tied up in you. If you can’t handle that, give him to CJ or myself. At least then he’s not faced with rejection every single day.”
Toby stood with the President and could only reply, “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Mr. President.”
As he walked away, leaving Toby there, President Bartlett muttered, “She’ll never let me hear the end of this.”
Toby sat back down, once the President was back inside, and stared at the beauty of a rosebud while he thought.
Present Day...
An alarm pierced through Toby in a way that immediately set his heart into overdrive. Within seconds, nurses and doctors flooded the room, shoving him aside. He watched in horror as they worked on Sam, needles as long as his forearm pushing into Sam’s chest and then a crash cart being hauled into place. Feeling faint, Toby could only stand there, staring as they sent bolts of electricity through his lover’s heart to get it going again and then, once they got a rhythm, intubated him, putting Sam on a respirator.
It was only five minutes later that the doctor approached him, wiping away the sweat that had gathered during the frantic actions to save Sam’s life. “Mr. Ziegler, are you all right?”
Shaking himself from the stupor that kept his gaze glued to Sam’s too-pale face, Toby dragged it to the doctor, who looked truly worried for him. “I’m fine. Is he, how is he?”
“Still touch and go,” the doctor informed him regretfully. “It’s not a good sign that we had to put him on a respirator, but he’s still fighting. This is one man who does not want to go to Heaven.”
“Elysian Fields,” Toby corrected absently.
“In any case, he’s fighting to stay right here and you need to get some rest so that you can keep going. I’m going to have a trundle bed brought in so you can stay close, how’s that?”
Toby nodded, but his attention was already back on Sam and he left the doctor to resume his spot beside Sam. He took his slave’s hand and whispered, “Keep fighting, Sam. Please keep fighting. Don’t leave me.”
There was no answer, not even the twitch of an eyelash and Toby settled in to wait for as long as it took.