Chapter Text
Late morning in the West Wing carried a quiet weight, the kind that settles in the spaces between footsteps and whispered conversations. Leo McGarry walked beside Sam as they left the Residence, his presence both inspiring and grounding. The hum of the building—the soft clack of shoes on polished floors, the distant murmur of voices—felt strangely distant to Sam, whose world had just been irrevocably changed.
They stopped inside Leo’s office, the door closing softly behind them. He outlined some things for Sam to work on. Then Leo turned to Sam, placing a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder. His eyes held a gentle seriousness. “Try to have a good day,” he said, voice low and steady. “Don’t let yourself get lost in the past or worry too much. You’re still the same man as you were two days ago, you’ve accomplished the same great things — having a family doesn’t change that. And remember, if you feel overwhelmed, I’m here, Sam. Come find me.”
Sam nodded, the knot in his chest loosening just a bit at the kindness in Leo’s words. Asking for help had never come easily to him, admitting weakness even less so. Yet Leo’s offer was a balm, a small light in the fog. As Sam stepped away, his smile was tentative but real, lingering softly on his lips.
The corridors of the West Wing felt both familiar and yet not as Sam made his way to his office. His colleagues were just beginning to wonder where he’d been when he emerged from Leo’s office. Relief battled curiosity as they exchanged glances, noted the smile that dawned across Sam’s face, and quietly filed it away.
Sam tried to navigate a semblance of normalcy, though his entire life had been rewritten. He kept the truth to himself, deflecting the concerned inquiries of friends who sensed his distraction. But there was also happiness reflected in his eyes, so they gave him space.
Most of the morning passed in a haze of swirling thoughts and quiet reflection. The knowledge that he was the son of Jed and Abbey settled in his chest like a keystone—solid and right—but the reality of having been kidnapped and raised by abductors cast a long shadow he couldn’t face. Every time he approached the thought, panic pushed him away.
Around lunchtime, Leo quietly entered Sam’s office, carrying a small, neatly wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water. He set the food down gently on the edge of Sam’s desk without a word, then took a seat in the chair opposite him. Leo’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, scanned Sam’s face and posture, noting the fatigue and tension that Sam tried to mask. The tight jaw, the restless fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the desk, prompted the reminder, “it’s okay to feel overwhelmed.”
Without pressing, Leo offered a steady presence, a calm anchor in the storm swirling inside Sam. "You don’t have to say anything," he said softly. "Just know I’m here."
Sam looked up, meeting Leo’s steady gaze with watery eyes. The unspoken understanding between them was a rare comfort. Leo’s presence was a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that there were those who cared deeply, now. Sam swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making words difficult. He glanced down at the simple fare, then back at Leo, who gave a small, encouraging nod.
“Take your time,” Leo said.
Sam managed a small, grateful smile. He reached for the sandwich, the simple act grounding him momentarily in the present.
Leo kept the conversation up for both of them. And when he had drawn an honest laugh from Sam, Leo rose, gave his godson’s shoulder another squeeze and left with a nod of encouragement.
For a while, it worked, and so did Sam.
But the afternoon stretched on with Sam’s anxiety mounting as he found himself trying to predict the weekend ahead. The very idea of three sisters—three siblings he had never known—loomed large in his mind. His parents had insisted they come this weekend, that there was family news to share. They’d be arriving tomorrow.
Sam sat alone in his office, the hum of the West Wing fading into a distant murmur. His fingers traced the edge of the desk, the passing time blurred at the corners like a half-remembered dream. A sudden flicker of something surfaced—bright sunlight filtering through leaves, the scent of pine and fresh earth, a hand in his grasp.
He closed his eyes, and the scene sharpened: a toddler’s laughter mingling with a woman’s soft voice, a gentle touch on his cheek, the warmth of strong arms. But the image fractured, edges dissolving into shadows and silence. Confusion welled inside him, a yearning for a place and something that felt just out of reach.
"Who am I?" the thought whispered, fragile and persistent.
The question lingered, unspoken but heavy, as Sam opened his eyes to the present. The once-solid past was a puzzle with missing pieces, and the future a path he was only beginning to see.
Sam accomplished little more after that, avoiding people and keeping to his office. As evening fell and night closed in, Leo returned to collect him, sensing that Sam wouldn’t come ‘home’ on his own. Sam was conflicted—an adult with his own place, yet raw and overwhelmed by the new reality he found himself living in. Leo had apparently already made a call to have a few more of Sam’s things brought over from his apartment… and wasn’t that a rabbit hole he didn’t want to poke at. With another understanding smile, Leo escorted Sam back to the Residence.
The Residence itself was quieter than the halls but still alive with a different kind of energy. Leo probably let them know he was coming because Abbey greeted them at the door, her smile warm but tinged with a kind of worry Sam had never had aimed at him before. Jed was nearby, calm and present in a way that filled the space. Sam felt the edges of his anxieties soften under their genuine, open welcome—especially coming from the man he’d only thought of as the President, a man apart from all others.
Leo squeezed Sam’s arm one last time, a silent reminder that he was not alone, that he was loved. Then he left the family, closing the door softly behind him.
In the sitting room, Sam’s parents listened intently as they coaxed him to voice the tangled fears knotting inside him. He hated admitting how lost he felt—how utterly unsure he was about being this Sam, or even himself, whoever that was anymore. The source of his uncertainty was elusive, a shadow he couldn’t quite grasp, and that only deepened his anxiety.
Thoughts spiraled and tumbled out of him: What questions would they ask? What would they want to know? He hardly knew how to answer his own gnawing questions… The natural curiosity of family felt like a looming storm, and Sam found himself shrinking away from it, unsure how to face the inevitable.
Of course, his parents had a plan. They suggested that Sam stay in the West Wing the next morning. Jed and Abbey intended to tell their daughters together, once they all arrived: that their lost brother had been found, was alive and well. They intended to explain the revelations and the public cover-story, to allow his parents to field the worst questions, to shield Sam from the initial onslaught. The plan was to introduce him without painful or awkward explanations of his own. That was the plan.
When Sam yawned one too many times, his parents exchanged a look and rose, bringing Sam with them. They couldn’t resist walking their son down the hall to the bedroom that now felt like his, something they'd never been able to do before. Abbey’s hand was gentle on his back; Jed’s voice was soft with reassurance, “We’re close, if you need anything, Sam.”
Sam thought about saying, I love you; he didn’t remember that he already had. He wanted to, even; but he felt overwhelmed and bashful, unable to speak. His parents didn’t press him, they offered their own good-nights with understanding caresses, then left him to try to rest.