A West Wing Story

By Dani L.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to the great Aaron Sorkin and Warner Bros.

Spoilers: Take this Sabbath Day & Let Bartlet be Bartlet

Archive: Yes, but please advise me beforehand. Thanks! Also, HTML version is available upon request.

Summary: A quiet sailing trip turns into tragedy and leaves Sam Seaborn’s life hanging in the balance.

This story is dedicated to all The West Wing Fans out there, especially the SamFans. :-)

FYI: On a boat, a mast is: A tall vertical pole that rises from the keel or deck of a sailing vessel to support the sails and running rigging. A boom is: A long beam extending from a mast to hold or extend the foot of a sail.

The following events take place before "What Kind of Day has it Been".

Atlantic Ocean

Sunday, 2:45PM

‘Finally,’ thought Sam as he closed his eyes and leaned back on the deck of his sailboat. He had been waiting for this moment for a few weeks now, and had thought that it would never come, since this was his first day off in almost 3 weeks.

Nonetheless, here he was, sailing the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. He had tried to leave his cell phone and pager turned off, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. And besides, being a member of the Senior Staff of the White House was more than a full-time job; it had pretty much become his life. But right now, he was taking time for himself, away from the White House, and especially away from Toby.

Closing his eyes and relishing in the cool wind coming off the water, he thought about the past few weeks, thanking God that they were now, in fact, in the past. He had always been able to cope with Toby’s attitude, but this last week, it had become harder and harder for him to chew and swallow his boss’ erratic and constant mood swings and derogatory comments about his speech writing. The pressures of trying to restore peace talks in the Middle East were wearing on everyone and to make matters worse, airline traffic controllers were threatening to go on strike if their collective agreement, which had been pending for the last few months, was not settled. Their demands were more than was initially expected and negotiations had not been going very well. The White House had been asked to intervene in the situation as mediator before things got out of hand, and Sam and Josh had been put in charge of resolving the dispute and avoiding a strike. Needless to say, Sam wasn’t very happy when that was added to his already full schedule.

He was also responsible for writing up the White House communiqués in regards to the peace talks, and Toby had been breathing down his neck, making sure that they were done on time and passed his white-gloved inspection. Sam had felt like telling him what he could do with those darn communiqués on more than one occasion, but he always bit his tongue. He knew that Toby was as stressed as everyone else and that he was just being himself, but Sam was slowly losing the battle. One can only bite his tongue so often before the pain becomes unbearable. But acting otherwise wasn’t in his nature.

Sam knew that Toby didn’t act that way out of malice. Maybe towards others in some cases, but not with Sam. He had known Toby long enough now to know how the man thought, and had become very familiar with his sometimes grim attitude.

He just played along with it, since he knew that was what Toby expected. That was the way their friendship worked and it suited Sam fine. If Toby was happy, so was he. If Toby wasn’t happy, he simply coped. It wasn’t that complicated.

After days of negotiating with the air traffic controllers union leaders, they managed to come to an agreement that both parties accepted. Sam and Josh were utterly exhausted, but the adrenaline rush was still flowing through his veins. Sam loved the feeling of authority that being a lawyer gave him. He enjoyed debating the pros and cons of a situation, of dissecting them. He could go on for hours on a certain topic and never repeat himself. That was something that came naturally to him, and that was what made him a good lawyer. He missed those days, but nothing compared to working in the White House and for the President of the United States of America. "I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States", he said to himself with a proud smile. When he first started working in the White House, he sometimes had to pinch himself. At first he would become so overwhelmed that he would have to stop what he was doing and refocus his thoughts. That feeling had since passed, but he would forever be grateful for it.

Being the youngest member of the Senior Staff was a lot of pressure in the beginning, thinking that he had to prove himself worthy to the group, but he had came to the realization that he was one of them, no matter what his age, and that made all the difference. They were a team that worked as one. Same purposes. Same goals.

One thing that he hadn't realized when he accepted the job was that he would have to work for days on end without a day off. He had been working for 15 days straight, without a day off. Sometimes he worked late into the night, and was back at the office first thing in the morning - if he made it home at all - but Sam wasn’t one to complain. He had a job to do and he did it to the best of his abilities, and so did everyone else, for that matter. What counted was that they got the job done and done well. The instant he found out that he would finally have a day off, he didn’t hesitate. His sailboat had been out of action for too long, and it was now time to take her out. The air was still cool, but that didn’t bother him in the least; he simply dressed a little warmer before leaving.

He was wearing a long sleeved polo shirt, covered by his Princeton fleece sweater, a pair of jeans and a black Los Angeles Kings baseball cap placed backwards on his head. Considering he only had one day off, and God only knew when he would get another one, he had planned his day up to the last minute. Of course, Mallory had been a part of the plan at the beginning, but had had to cancel. Students from her school were having their annual weekend long nature field trip, and one of the chaperones had fallen sick and Mallory had been asked to replace her. Seeing that they were in a bind, she had accepted after speaking with Sam. He had been a little disappointed at first, almost wanting her to refuse. He hadn’t spent much time with her as of late, except for a few quick lunches, but he also knew what it was like to have a job with such responsibilities. Besides, he didn’t mind spending the day by himself. After thinking about it, he was actually looking forward to it. He would definitely sleep in, something he hadn't had the pleasure of doing in too long. Make himself a hardy breakfast of eggs and toast, pack his gear and drive out to the Soloman’s Island Yacht Club in Maryland, where his sailboat was docked, and enjoy the 90-minutes drive.

When he had decided to dock his boat out at Soloman’s Island, his friends couldn't understand why he would keep his boat so far from DC. At first he hadn't either, but he soon found that it was perfect for him. It was a small club compared to others in the general area, and the other members there were mainly retired naval officers from the Patuxent River Naval Air Station, which was located not too far away. Being a high profile figure, he wanted to maintain as much privacy as he could, and he knew that he would be able to get it there. Everyone knew him by name and he was well liked. They were all there to share the same passion, and they respected that. Sam couldn’t have dreamt of a better place to dock his beloved sailboat.

For today, he had decided that he would sail out of the Chesapeake Bay and head out for the open sea, and just enjoy the quiet, relaxing motion of the waves. He would return from his little escapade around 5 o’clock, giving himself plenty of time to get back to DC and meet Josh, who had convinced him to go out for a few drinks around 8 o’clock. That, too, was something he hadn’t done in a long time.

The weather forecast wasn’t the greatest, thought Sam, reviewing the information he had received from the weather service before his departure. They were predicting a cloudy sky with increasing winds, but he wasn’t going to let some wind and a slight probability of precipitation for the afternoon deter his plans. He loved being at sea, in control of his boat. ‘The stronger the wind, the faster I’ll go’ he had thought with a grin. He was always up for a challenge. Besides, he had warm clothes on and had his foul weather clothing if it got really bad. He had to laugh when the picture of Josh wearing his yellow rain pants in the office popped into his mind. Josh had gotten drunk the night before at a bachelor party that had gone out of control and had ended up back at the office looking like death warmed over, and smelling like it, too. Donna had had to get his suit dry cleaned for a meeting with Joey Lucas, and the only other piece of clothing that she could come up with for him in the interim were the yellow pants with the black suspenders. Sam only wished that he had had a camera that day.

The forecast was also predicting a slight storm front coming up the eastern seaboard later that night, but he didn’t worry about that because he knew that he would be back before the storm front made its appearance. His daydreaming was suddenly cut short when drops of rain hit him in the face. He also realized that the wind has also picked up in the last few minutes. A flow of anger started to build up within him.

"They must really hate me! What have I ever done to them? Why do they keep doing this to me?" he asked out loud, referring to the National Weather Service. This was the second time they had misled him, the first being when the President was to give a speech to the United Organization of Trout Fishermen. Due to the fact that the event was to take place outside, Sam had called for an updated weather report. First Lieutenant Emily Lowenbrau of the U.S. Coast Guard told him that the weather would hold up till the afternoon, but to his dismay, she was so wrong. He could still hear the President speaking in the auditorium of the OEOB: " As I look over this magnificent vista……." Unfortunately, he hadn't changed the beginning of the speech and had overestimated the President, thinking that he would be able to make the change on his feet, which didn’t happen. He slowly shook his head and sighed, realizing that getting mad about it wasn’t going to change anything, and headed down below to get his yellow foul weather gear on.

"It’s time to head home, baby," Sam said with a smile, patting the walls of his most precious possession. He came to the decision that he would end his outing a little early. Considering the track record of his weather information as of late, he didn’t want to take a chance with that storm front. With his luck, it was probably a class 5 hurricane, he thought with a grin on his face. He headed back on deck, his heart a little heavy that his day at sea was soon going to end, but he resolved to take advantage of the trip back to the mainland.

The sail was taut, the wind blowing harder and harder with every passing second. The rain was now falling with more intensity. Sam was taken totally by surprise. He had heard of storms forming out of nowhere, but had never experienced any first hand.

He had to calm himself for a second, refocus his thoughts on his next move. He knew his boat and knew how to act in these kinds of situations, and he also knew that he had to act quickly because the wind was pushing him further out to sea.

He decided to play it wise and safe, so he put his life jacket on and attached a rope to his waist, ensuring that the other end was tightly attached to the boat.

That was the first thing any good sailor would do. His next tasks were to get the sail down and then get the motor on, turn the boat around and head home. He had everything planned out in his head. Now it was just a matter of doing it.

He approached the crank that would allow him to bring the sail down. He had to bring it down slowly, to avoid damaging it.

He labored against the wind, which was still picking up strength. ‘Relax, Seaborn, just relax. Do this one step at a time,’ he told himself, the feeling of oncoming panic forming in the gut of his stomach.

"I will never trust the weather service ever again," he shouted out loud, trying to vent his frustrations, hoping to calm himself down.

After getting the sail down, he had to secure it to the boom. As he was making his way over to it, his foot slipped on the wet deck. He lost his balance and started falling helplessly forward, the right side of his head colliding heavily with the mast. He fell heavily to the deck as everything went black.

*******************************************************************************************

He knew that he had lost consciousness, but he couldn’t tell for how long he had been out when suddenly the sound of the wind and the waves made their way to his ears.

The wind and the rain had picked up and the boat was swaying with the waves. He was cold and his whole body was shivering. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or if he was going into shock. He tried to open his eyes, but only his left one would obey. He somehow managed to turn himself onto his back, breathing hard with the effort, his head throbbing with pain. He gradually realized that he must have been out for a few hours, because the light of day had abandoned him, leaving him in the clutches of darkness.

He slowly brought his hand up to right side of his head. He knew before touching it that he was bleeding. He could feel the warm liquid running down the side of his cold face. He slowly touched his eye and winced in pain. It was completely swollen shut. His hand ventured to his forehead, where he found the source of the bleeding. A large gash that started above his eyebrow and went across his temple was pumping blood onto the deck. The whole right side of his face was throbbing. His mind was slowly processing the situation, knowing that he had to get up, turn the motor on and turn the boat around. He took a few deep breaths, gathering all the strength and courage he could.

"Have to get up! Have to get up!" he murmured to himself, pushing the pain in his head and the onset of nausea deep into the back of his mind and concentrating on getting his legs to support him.

He slowly managed to sit up, now having to hold his head in his hands, hoping that would somehow silence the cries of pain screaming in it. Using the mast as support, he managed to stand up. Concentrating with all his might, he succeeded in maintaining a vertical position, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. Suddenly, a noise coming from behind him caught his attention. It was the sound of a turning crank, but with only one good eye, he couldn’t pinpoint its location. Frantically searching for the crank in question, his gaze finally focused on the rigging for the boom, which also happened to be the source of the noise. The rope holding the boom in place was coming off its rigging. Before he could react to his find, the long beam, having now lost its anchor, was under the control of the wind and was swaying in his direction.

His instinct was to put his hands up to somehow protect himself, even though he knew that it was pointless. The boom slammed into him with tremendous force. He instantly felt a sharp snap in his left forearm. Pain also exploded on the left side of his chest, but those sensations were put aside for a few seconds when he realized that his feet were no longer touching a solid surface. He suddenly became aware that he had been falling when he found himself plunging into the cold Atlantic Ocean. All his senses were brought painfully alive when the frigidity of the water seized his body. Thanks to his life jacket, his head remained above water, but that wasn’t helping him much at this point. The impact with the beam had knocked the wind out of him, and he was desperately trying to get air back into his lungs without screaming from the pain in his chest.

He quickly realized what kind of situation he was in and ordered himself to calm down and focus, because he knew that his life was in danger and that if he didn’t react fast, it was all over. The waves were tossing him left and right, colliding with him at each pass like a slap in the face to keep him conscious. He quickly grabbed with both hands the rope that he had attached to himself earlier.

He was aware that something wasn’t right with his left arm, but he ignored the pain. He started tugging on the rope, slowly approaching the back of his boat where he had attached the other end of his lifeline. After just a few minutes that seemed like an eternity to him, exhaustion set in, and he was losing the battle with the pain that reigned in his battered body.

With his good eye, he strained to see how far he had to go. He could make out the shadow of the boat, bobbing on the water just a few feet away from him. All of a sudden, a wave picked him up and threw him, causing him to collide with the haul, his left shoulder taking the blunt of the impact. The numbness caused by the cold water was no longer hiding the pain. He could feel everything now. He screamed out in agony and terror. His mind was swimming between clarity and oblivion. Dark shadows were blurring his vision and threatening to take over, but he pushed them away, knowing that he was so close, so very close.

He frantically grabbed the wooden platform located near him and slowly hauled himself on to it. He lay there for a few moments trying to catch a painful breath. He wasn't sure if he could move anymore, but a little voice in the back of his head told him to get up. The boat was rocking more and more and he didn’t know how long he could hold on to the platform. He had to get into the boat. With the last ounce of strength he had left, he lifted himself up, grabbed the railing and pulled himself up and over it.

He fell heavily onto the deck and let out a wail of pain. He tried to slow down his agonized breathing, but without success. His whole body was shivering from the cold and pain. His feet and hands were freezing, and his head was pounding out of control.

He knew that he still had much to do. Get the motor on, turn the ship around, go home. He also knew that his body wasn’t going to cooperate. He was fighting with all his might just to remain conscious as it was, he knew that getting all those things done were impossible at this point.

Laying on his back, the cold rain colliding with his exposed skin, he looked towards the mast. ‘At least the sail is down’, he thought, assessing that that was the only positive thing going for him.

"Just go with the storm, go with the flow", he whispered to himself. The dark shadows were now even more present and he no longer had the strength to make them go away, but before they completely took over, he managed one last thought, "I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States of America".

End of Chapter 1