TITLE: Ira Furor Brevis Est

Psuedonym: Ecri

E-mail: [email protected]

Category: Episode Related, The Black Vera Wang through Posse Comitatus

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam deals with the fallout from the video.

Spoliers: The Black Vera Wang through Posse Comitatus

Warnings: none

Author's Note: The first page or so is "novelization" of the Sam in the rain scene of The Black Vera Wang. Also, the section that begins with the designation "Monday" is something I've taken from a scene from We Killed Yamamoto. I intended no disrespect or infringement of any kind. I am making no money. I wrote this for fun and out of my need to see more of the Sam Situation from the end of season three.

I started writing this right after The Black Vera Wang aired, and I kept writing through Posse Comitatus. I finished it just hours before I learned that Rob Lowe is leaving the show. I am more depressed about this than I should be. I thought about rewriting this to reflect Sam's departure, but, since I know nothing about that, I don't think that would be a good idea.

Thanks to the Seraglio and to Rob Lowe. If you don't know what the Seraglio is, go to www.televisionwithoutpity.com or to http://seraglio.redi.tk/

Ira Furor Brevis Est

Thursday Night

Rain pounded against the windshield, spattering across the glass. Sam Seaborn, White House Deputy Communications Director, sat watching the door of Dupont Tower from across the street in his car. His emotions were raw. What an idiot he'd been! How could he have been so stupid? Distracted by his anger, he almost didn't see Kevin Khan leave the building.

Sam threw his car door open, and, with long strides, ate up the distance separating him from his friend. Ex-friend, he thought bitterly. Reaching out a hand, he gripped Kevin's shoulder and spun the startled man around, noting with satisfaction the momentary flicker of fear on the man's face.

"I can't believe you did that!" Sam shouted. Kevin didn't reply so Sam repeated himself louder and shoved Kevin hard enough to leave a bruise. "I can't believe you did that!"

"Go to hell."

"What happened to"

"What happened with the open mike?"

"It was a mistake!"

"Crap!"

"You said you laughed!"

"You think I laughed?"

"You said"

"You think I laughed!"

"So that's what this is about? The opThat's what this is about!"

"That was my candidate you made a joke out of. Is it gonna happen again? I think it will."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sam took a step forward, his face suddenly hard and cold—his voice low and menacing. "I think it will, too."

Kevin stepped back from Sam, a look of loathing on his face, then turned and walked away.

Sam stared after the retreating figure unsure which he felt more, anger, betrayal, or disgust. His gaze fell taking in the sight of his shoes half-submerged in water. He was standing in water. He moved his left foot across the surface of the puddle, then brought it down hard deliberately into the center. Disgust. Was he disgusted with Kevin or with himself? Was he the betrayed or was he the betrayer? President Bartlet had believed in him. He'd said as much over a game of chess. He'd trusted Sam. Sam had let him down. He had hurt the President's campaign just when it had seemed that they would be able to put the MS scandal behind them

"Oh, God," Sam whispered again, just as he had in the bullpen when he'd realized what he'd done. His vision blurred just a little, and he wiped angrily at his eyes as he walked back to his car.

**

Bruno Gianelli hated being summoned. Usually, politicians wooed him to join a campaign. Usually, people understood why they needed him on a campaign. He could not recall a single other job he'd ever taken where the staffers refused to listen to a word he said, or, at the very least argued with him for several hours first.

He sighed as he approached Toby Ziegler's office and went inside. "You summoned me?"

Toby looked up from his computer and glared at Bruno. "I wanted to know just what it is you think you're doing."

"Pardon me?"

"I don't think I will." Toby stood, anger propelling him from his seat. "What gives you the idea that you run the Communications Office?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Toby spoke succinctly, his voice growing louder to emphasize his points. "Wonderful! Now you KNOW how the REST OF THE WORLD FEELS when they ask you a STRAIGHTFORWARD QUESTION, and you reply with a STORY about KELP, BOAT RACING, OR P.T. BARNUM!

Bruno stepped forward. "Give it to me in English, Toby."

"I reprimand my staff. Not you. What gives you the right to lay into Sam Seaborn?"

"Sam ignored the advice of everyone in the room. He shot this campaign down in flames before we got off the runway! All because he thought he knew better than I did. This was the biggest mistake of his career!"

"I hope it was! I hope it was. With any luck, he did just make the biggest mistake of his career! Now that it's out of the way, we can get some real work done! That aside, he's my deputy. Not yours."

Toby moved around his desk to stand toe to toe with Bruno. "I will handle any and all reprimands for any and all of the Communications Staff. That includes Sam, CJand anyone who works in this department. Do I make myself clear?"

"What's your problem? Leo didn't say anything after I had words with Josh."

"I. Don't. Care!

"What makes you think Seaborn is anything special? I'll tell you this for free. If he doesn't toughen up, he won't make it in this town. Hell, he won't make it ON. THIS. PLANET!"

"Keep your insights to yourself."

"I was hired to do a job, here, Toby! I don't care if no one likes me while I do it!"

"Well, thanks for clearing that up because we were about to name you Miss Congeniality!" Toby paused and took a breath wishing it would calm him down. "Now, get out of my office."

Bruno, still fuming, left Toby alone.

**

Sam parked his car in front of his apartment, his mind too full of other things to register what an oddity it was for him to have found a space so easily. Once he'd locked the door, he realized he really didn't feel like going home. He looked up at his dark apartment, then back at his car. With a sigh, he just started to walk.

Sam lost all track of time as he walked. The rain continued to fall, sometimes heavier, sometimes almost slowing to a drizzle. It was just beginning to pick up again, and lightning flashed in the distance. It reminded him of Mrs. Landingham's funeral and the night President Bartlet had revealed his MS to the unsuspecting public. It had rained then, too. As down as he'd been that night, however, it had been different. He hadn't been alone. He'd known that, whatever happened, they would all stand together. Brothers in arms. Facing the music is easier when you have someone by your side.

He winced at the thought of facing the music. He had shied away from such references, verbally and mentally, since Josh had explained about the PTSD. The lingering anger at himself for not helping his friend when he'd needed it most stoked his anger tonight at his own stupidity when dealing with another friend. He picked up his pace, walking as if in a hurry to get somewhere, even though he knew he was going nowhere.

His cell phone rang. Sam yanked it from his pocket and flipped it open. "Seaborn."

"Samit's Josh."

"What do you need, Josh."

"Uhnothing, really. Iit's Amy"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't really have time for this, Josh. I have a few things on my mind."

"Ohyeah. The" Sam sensed Josh's hesitation, but he didn't feel much like helping him. A passing truck made enough noise speeding through the downpour for Josh to hear it over the phone.

"Are you outside?" Josh made it sound like the most implausible of suggestions.

"I can see how you made it through Harvard, Josh. Nothing gets by you."

"Where are you?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Sam's admission worried Josh.

"You wanna look around?"

"Okay." Sam complied. "Yeah. That didn't help."

Josh ignored the remark. "Sam, you're outside and you don't know where?"

A loud crash of thunder reverberated through the rain soaked DC night, followed by the distant echo of sirens. Sam thought briefly of emergency rooms and prisons. "No. I parked at my place, but decided to take a walk." Suddenly angry that he had automatically explained himself to his old friend, Sam let his emotions seep into his words. "Can I help you with something?" Sarcasm dripped from his words like blood from a wolf's teeth.

"Get in a cab and come to my place."

"No."

"No?"

"Josh, I need to be alone right now."

"I'd feel better about that if you were in your apartment and not wandering around the streets of DC."

"Can't help you there."

"Sam, go home."

"I will."

"Now."

"Okay."

"I'm going to call you later to be sure you made it home."

"Great. I'm hanging up now." Sam disconnected the call without waiting for Josh's reply. Then he turned the phone off and slipped it into his pocket and continued to walk.

**

Jed Bartlet sat in the Oval Office silently as Leo explained to John Hoynes everything they knew about the videotape. Hoynes sat back taking in all of the information before offering his opinion. "They can't bring criminal charges against Seaborn. There's no evidence."

"That we know of." Leo would take nothing for granted.

This brought Jed back into the conversation. "What are you saying?"

Leo shrugged. "Just that this may not be all there is."

"You think they've planted something?"

"No. I just want to be prepared."

Jed turned to Hoynes. "What do you think?"

Hoynes considered his reply carefully. He knew that Bartlet thought highly of his staff, but he had to be honest. "I think it's bad."

Jed glared at him until he continued.

"Be that as it may, it could be worse, but I doubt they're planning to get Seaborn on charges of criminal conspiracy."

"What do you think they are planning?" Jed was truly curious.

"I think they got what they wanted. Their ad is running everywhere for free." Hoynes hesitated, but had to ask. "Are you planning a response?"

Jed shook his head. "How do we respond to this?"

Hoynes nodded. "It'll pass, you know."

"Eventually."

"There's just not a lot we can do about it right now."

Jed nodded and stood, holding out his hand for Hoynes to shake it. "Thanks for stopping by, John."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Hoynes waked across the room before turning back to the President and Leo. "It could have been much worse."

Jed shook his head, sitting down once more. "I honestly don't see how."

**

Sam did catch a cab, but he didn't go home or to Josh's. Instead, he told the cab driver to take him to any big DC landmark. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the cab pulled up in front of the White House.

He paid the driver, staring after the cab as it pulled into traffic. Only when he could no longer see it, did he turn and face the building.

The White House was always impressive, but Sam loved how it looked at night. The lights glistened off the rain, which had almost stopped by now. Sam moved closer to the fence placing his hands on two of the bars and leaning his head on the cool, wet metal. This successfully blocked his peripheral vision so that the White House was all he could see.

All he could see.

The White House had been all he could see his entire life. He'd come to Washington one summer with his parents. He'd loved the history of the place. He loved what it stood for. He'd never seriously thought about being President until recently when President Bartlet had planted the idea in his head. He had wondered what it might be like to be President, and he had entertained the notion of working for the President. He'd thought about it throughout school. When he'd chosen to go into law, he'd hoped

Sam let out a slow sigh, stopping that thought. What did it matter what he'd hoped?

He lost track of time as he stood staring at the building that had meant so much to him, and he recalled when Ainsley had used nearly those same words. She'd been upset then. She'd felt crushed by the treatment of people she'd been trying to help. She'd looked like he felt right now.

His thoughts wandered, and he relived some of the moments that had led him to the White House, moments from the campaign, and moments from the days since President Bartlet's inauguration.

He remembered the first time he'd met Josh, and how Josh had stared at him in amazement for a moment before reluctantly admitting that Sam was almost as brilliant as Josh himself.

He remembered how Josh had stood dripping in the hall outside the conference room at Gage Whitney.

He remembered CJ's joy as she announced President-elect Bartlet for the first time as he'd taken the stage for his victory speech. She couldn't stop smiling. When the President had finished she'd joined the celebrations, and had even graced Sam with a dance before Toby had stolen her away.

He remembered their first day in the White House when Toby had claimed the former White House Counsel's Offices as the White House Communications Staff Offices. Toby had insisted that it was far more important that he and his staff have easy access to the President and if anyone had a problem with that, he'd be happy to show them just what they could do with that problem.

He remembered how good he'd felt when they had managed to get Roberto Mendoza on the bench.

He remembered that, recently, the President had expressed a profound trust and belief in him. He wondered if that were still true.

Between his vivid recollections, his mind would go blank, but he continued to stare at the building, lost in the past.

"Sam? What are you doing here?"

Sam turned slowly, blinking to keep the rain out of his eyes. Rain? When had it started to rain again? "Mr. Vice President?"

Hoynes held his oversized umbrella over the Deputy Communications Director, and leaned closer to him so the younger man could hear him over the sound of the heavy downpour battering the sidewalk. "What are you doing standing in the rain, Seaborn?"

Sam blinked again this time trying to clear his mind. "INothing, sir. I was just"

"Where's your car?" Hoynes asked suddenly.

"At my apartment."

Hoynes seemed surprised by that. Gesturing for Sam to follow him, he walked over to his limousine. The Secret Service agent herded the two of them inside.

Once settled in his seat, Hoynes again turned his attention to Sam. "Sam, what's your address?"

Sam mindlessly rattled off the address barely registering the fact that the Vice President seemed to be giving him a lift, as the Vice President passed that information to the driver.

"You want to tell me what's wrong?"

"You probably know already, or you can guess." Sam stared out the window of the car at the rain-obscured streets.

"The tape?"

"See. Good guess. Right, first time."

"Sam, I just met with Leo and the President about that. You want to tell me your side."

"My side? I appreciate what you're saying, sir, but the fact is I was played. I was an idiot. I never saw this coming. Toby, Josh, CJ, Bruno they all saw itor something like it. Not me. I was blind."

Hoynes nodded. "Most people who are blind were actually blinded by something."

Sam intended to laugh, but it came out as more of a derisive snort. "That's probably true."

"What blinded you, Sam?"

Sam turned from the window and looked Hoynes in the eye. "Friendship."

Hoynes let out a long slow breath. "Someone set you up." It wasn't a question.

"I set myself up. I took the bait. I believed the most unbelievable of coincidences. I walked into the noose and kicked the chair away." He spoke quickly, the words tumbling over themselves in an effort to get out of his mouth. He gestured weakly with his hands before dropping them to rest lightly on his knees as if lacking the will to continue.

The Vice President didn't know Sam Seaborn well. They'd only worked together on occasion, but anytime anyone used suicidal references, no matter how benign the supposed intention, it bothered him. He'd lost a friend by ignoring such comments. "Sam, you made a mistake. That's all. You're not the first to discover that, in politics, even friendship is suspect."

"Due respect, sir, this isn't a minor blunder. I may have cost you and the President the election." Sam didn't want to talk. He wasn't even sure he wanted to go home. As he considered how to get out of this conversation, Hoynes began to laugh.

"Sir?" Sam asked curiously.

With some effort, Hoynes got himself under control. Still smiling, he turned his attention on the Deputy Communications Director. "You really think that you just decided the election? You think that this one thing will be the deciding factor come November?"

"The news cycles"

Hoynes waved an impatient hand. "I know about the news cycles, Sam." His smile faded. "The truth is, this was bad." He noticed Sam's gaze drop to the floor. "But it's not the worst I've ever seen. Reelection was never going to be a walk through the park, Sam. Sure it would have been better if this hadn't happened, but I think it's good that it happened when it did."

"I'm not following you, sir." Sam looked Hoynes in the eye unflinching, and obviously wishing he could believe the Vice President's implication—that this would not become the turning point in the President's bid for reelection.

"If this had to happen, better now than in October."

Sam shook his head. "It's set the tone for the entire campaign. The public is being reminded that The President was less than honest"

"You think most of them forgot? You think most of them were completely convinced that he was nothing but 100% honest before the MS came out?" Hoynes sighed. "I'll give you some truth, Sam. No one on the planet believes that any politician is 100%honest."

Sam dropped his gaze to his shoes. "I did."

Vice President John Hoynes stared for a moment at the profile of a young man who continued to astound him. While it was true he didn't know Sam Seaborn well, it was also true that the young man seemed to find a way to surprise him almost every time they met. That meeting about the Internet Education Act was a case in point. Sam had sat patiently as Hoynes had tried to figure out just what the opposition wanted. When he'd exhausted all options and come right out and asked Sam, the young man had supplied the information. He'd been tactful, supportive, and respectful.

Josh had told him that Sam had even come to the Vice President's defense when he'd found out about the meeting held to consider the possibility of replacing him.

Now, he sat in the Vice President's limo, dripping wet, having somehow gotten his car home—which Hoynes knew he had seen earlier in the day in the parking lot—while still standing in the rain staring rather forlornly at the White House.

More amazing than any of that, however, was the fact the Sam Seaborn had just confessed that he had believed, unwaveringly, unquestioningly, in Josiah Bartlet. Hoynes hadn't realized that kind of loyalty still existed. He shook his head. It didn't surprise him, however that, if it did exist, Jed Bartlet had inspired it.

"Sam," he whispered. Anything above a whisper would have seemed wrong. "What I am trying to tell you is that you did not single handedly cost us the election."

Sam tried to read the truth in the man's eyes, surprising Hoynes with the desperation he saw there. Seaborn seemed to want—to need—to believe in something.

Hoynes let out another long sigh. Maybe it wasn't Bartlet who'd inspired this loyalty. Maybe this kind of trust and loyalty was an innate part of this man who sat beside him.

They rode in silence as Hoynes considered his options. It was only when the limo pulled up in front of Sam's apartment that he realized he didn't have any options. Sam wasn't on his staff. He had no obligation to the man. He had no personal stake in the man's mental health. He brushed away his own encroaching cynicism. He hadn't been obligated to talk to him when he'd seen Sam standing in front of the White House, either.

"Sam." He spoke quietly. "We're here."

Sam nodded, and shook himself out of his thoughts. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Vice President."

"No bother, Sam."

Sam put a hand on the door, just as Hoynes put a hand on his arm. Turning, Sam looked at the hand as though he'd never seen one before.

"Sam, don't make any decisions tonight, okay?'

"Decisions?" Sam's smile was more a cross between a wince and a grimace. "No. No decisions."

Sam exited the limo, and walked up the stairs of his apartment.

Hoynes sat in the car, watching Sam's door for several minutes before he gave his driver any orders.

**

Sam stood just inside his apartment leaning heavily against the door. Rain water streamed down his back, arms, and legs to puddle on the hardwood floor. He watched the puddle grow, stretching out across the floor. With great effort, he forced himself away from the door, and headed for the bathroom.

Sam stripped off the wet clothes, and hung them in the bathroom to drip all over the floor. He stood in the shower much as he had against the door and against the fence at the White House—unmoving. The sting of cold water when he'd used all the hot, snapped him back to the present. Shutting off the icy water, he quickly toweled off, and dressed in a Princeton sweatshirt and sweatpants. He considered going to bed, but, knowing sleep would be long in coming, he settled down in the living room.

Sitting on his sofa, Sam automatically flipped on the television. CNN, C-SPAN, MSNBC, local stationsevery channel was carrying it. Speculation about the origins of the tape, about how it had come to be in Sam's possession, and about the possibility of a full-blown conspiracy where the hot topics. He watched it on CNN for an hour or so, but realized that what he was doing bordered on masochism, so he switched off the TV in frustration.

As he stared at the now-blank TV screen, he realized that sometime since he'd gotten home, his depression had transformed into anger. The rage he'd felt when he'd confronted Kevin was back. He was mad at himself for being so stupid, so trusting. He was mad at Kevin for using him. He was mad at Bruno for being unable to speak in clear concise language. He knew that was childish. Bruno had no obligation to explain himself, but Sam couldn't get past the fact that he had asked Bruno several times what danger there was in speaking to Kevin Khan. All Bruno could come up with was that someone was either trying to hurt them or trying to help them. Well, thanks for the remarkable insight, Bruno, he'd thought.

Sam felt that particular fury die a quick death. He wasn't mad at Bruno. Bruno was just easy to blame. The man was an outsider. Sam and Toby had adopted an attitude that they would win reelection in spite of Bruno, and not because of him. Sam knew that was wrong, but it seemed very little had been right this past year.

Sam was still mad, furious, enraged—he chuckled to himself. Look, CJ, he thought, irrationally. Three words that all mean the same thing. Kevin had used him, and Sam was finding that hard to forgive, but, mostly, he was mad at himself for allowing Kevin to use him just because he'd thought the man was his friend.

He felt his white-hot rage ease a notch or so. Instead of a boil, he felt it fall to a simmer. He would not forget this. He would use it. He stood shakily and walked towards the bedroom.

TBC