Summary: "It was clear what they had gained; it was common knowledge. What they had lost, however, was not."

Notes: Yes, it's another Campaign Trail story. But really, can we ever have enough?

Dedication: To Connie. Written for Eric and Rocky and PBU.

This is not beta'ed. All mistakes are my own.

It had been a year and a half since New Hampshire-- a year and a half since Sam had upheld his life to join Josh on his pursuit for "The Real Thing." And they'd found it in New Hampshire. They'd found many things in New Hampshire.

But that was over a year ago. And things were different now. They were in the White House, for one. They were men with power. They were publicly known and watched and focused on. They were, in actuality, everything they'd ever wanted to be. But what did they leave behind in the process? What shell of themselves had they become? It was clear what they had gained; it was common knowledge. What they had lost, however, was not.

* * * * * *

One Year and Six Months Earlier

Josh had walked in while he was packing.

"I, uh, passed Lisa in the hall."

"Yeah." He didn't look up.

"What's um--?"

"Rendered speechless, Josh? I'd better mark my calendar."

"Sam, maybe--"

"Josh." Now he looked up. "Let's drop it right now, ok?"

"okay," the quiet reply had come.

Josh stood awkwardly in the bedroom, occasionally shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Finally, finally, Sam was finished and they were walking out the door, Sam carrying two large suitcases, Josh carrying a smaller one.

Sam paused at the door and looked back, beyond Josh, his face wistful. "I'll have to uh, send for some other stuff."

Josh touched Sam's arm, and now he was looking directly at him. His eyes were desperate.

"You'd better be right, Josh."

"I am, Sam."

"He's The Real Thing."

"The Real Thing."

"Why?"

"Everything about him, Sam. The way he spoke, the things he said. He captured the crowd. He appealed to the people."

Sam's face was wistful again. "You know-- it's funny. You think this is it; you think you have The Real Thing. You think you find it in someone, and then something else comes along."

"Sam, Lisa--"

"Someone else comes along," Sam whispered quietly.

"A Governor can hardly compare to a fiancee, Sam."

Sam stared at Josh. His eyes were unreadable. His mouth opened, then closed again.

"Get me to New Hampshire."

They went.

* * * * * *

The thrill of the campaign trail was unlike anything Sam had ever experienced. He knew right from the start that this had been the right choice. Leaving Lisa was painful, and that first week he must have thought of going back about a million times.

And then he'd think about the campaign and this being the Real Thing and he'd convince himself this was right, this was good. He tried not to think that if Josh hadn't shown up he'd be working on his wedding plans right now. More importantly, he'd try not to think about how each time he'd have second thoughts, Josh's face would appear and he'd be reminded of one more reason why he knew he wouldn't be leaving.

But that thought would lead to more dangerous ones, to ones that he couldn't afford to have; thoughts that didn't quell even after years with Lisa. They'd haunt him with a phone call or a letter or the occasional fleeting visit. Then they'd linger for weeks on end. He'd carry them throughout work; he'd carry them home with him. And sometimes, shamefully, he'd carry them to bed, where Lisa would be waiting.

He'd come to think of these as, appropriately, Josh Thoughts. Capitalized and everything.

Josh Thoughts had been happening for years. Josh Thoughts, though admittedly had their moments, were not what he would consider fun.

Loving Joshua Lyman was not fun.

The willingness to do anything for Joshua Lyman also fell into the category of Not Fun Things.

Wanting Josh Lyman in your bed instead of your fiancee was just plain sad.

And now, with no one in your bed at all, and wanting the one person that you shouldn't, couldn't have, had moved him right past sad and on to pathetic.

August became September, September became November, and the campaigning rolled on with increased intensity. He saw Josh nearly everyday and he hadn't realized just how much he had missed his company over the years until he finally had it back. It was like they had never been separated. The comfortableness he felt with Josh palled in comparison to anyone else. Perhaps it was because Josh knew he better than anyone. Perhaps it was because Josh was the only one he allowed that to. Josh even knew about his bisexuality.

There was one detail that Josh would never learn though. Not if he could help it. It was all Sam had left-- the only thing keeping Josh Lyman from knowing him better than he knew himself. And he couldn't allow someone that much power over him. Not even Josh.

As much as Sam loved seeing Josh everyday, he simultaneously hated it. He hated seeing Josh flirt with women; he had a love/hate relationship with the brief touches and glances that would make his day complete, but not faze Josh in the least. He hated going home alone, and jerking off to 'the way Josh looked today' or 'the way Josh smelled today' or 'the way Josh's hand accidentally brushed across my thigh I thought I would come while sitting in the meeting.'

He rarely dated, and when Josh cornered him on it, he'd say that it was too soon after Lisa. Which was partly true but still too much of a lie to sit well with him. Thankfully, Josh's relationships(if you could call them that) either fizzled out quickly, or didn't even make it past one night. Josh didn't seem too displeased at this. He was always more of a workaholic anyway. No, Sam could never imagine Josh settling down with anyone. Sam never knew what to think of that observation, and he never wanted to call Josh on it. Perhaps, he was too afraid of the answer.

And then it was February. And it was New Hampshire again. They headed back to Bartlet's home state to do some heavy campaigning. Bartlet actually used a large portion of Sam's speech and that made him proud. The Governor took mostly from Toby, although he didn't know that Sam had a large part in those speeches as well.

And then it was post-speech party time. The staff had gathered at a bar, the environment was tension free for once, and the presence of music and alcohol was welcome and heavy in the air.

Sam watched with pain filled eyes as Josh fell all over some girl up at the bar. If anyone noticed his displeasure, they kept it to themselves, and most likely wrote it off as some campaign thing.

Sam decided to handle the torture with beer. On his fourth bottle, Josh staggered over and plopped down next to him. Sam looked around with bloodshot eyes. Toby was at the bar, Leo was walking out the door, and CJ was long gone. Donna was dancing, badly, and Mandy was flirting with a dark handsome man while chain-smoking her way to sure death.

"Whaddya think of Donna?"

Sam turned his heavy head to Josh who was blinking up at him, drunk and stupidly happy. "I dunno." Sam was drunk himself, yet anything but happy.

"She's hot."

"Yeah, if you like blondes."

"You like blondes."

"How would you know?"

"Lisa was a blond."

"She still is."

"You know what I mean."

"I hate when past tense is used when you were with someone."

"Sam--"

"It's not like the person seizes to exist--"

"Sam."

"--after you break up with them. They're still living--"

"Sam!"

"--and they're still blondes or redheads or--"

"Alright! Jesus, you sure know how to kill someone's buzz."

"So you like Donna."

"Didn't say that."

"You're practically drooling over her now."

"I don't like Donna. She's too... blond."

"You're incorrigible, Josh."

"When is the last time you've gotten laid, Sam?"

At that point, he really wished he hadn't finished his beer, so he could've been drinking it and had an excuse to choke.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play naive, it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not playing naive, I'm refraining from answering a question that would be potentially embarrassing to you if asked while you were sober."

"But I'm not sober. And neither are you."

"Still."

"Come on, Sam. You can't use the Lisa excuse anymore--"

"It's only been six months--"

"--because it's never taken you more than six months to get over *anyone*."

"That's what you think," Sam mumbled.

"What?"

Sam rubbed his eyes. "Nothing. Look, I don't want to talk about this."

"Is it 'cause you're looking for a guy? Cause Sam, we could find you some discreet bar or somethin.'"

"Josh!" His whisper was harsh and urgent. "Jesus. I am *not* having this conversation with you, ok?"

"You're no fun, Sam."

They sat there for a while longer and Sam tried to ignore the fact that Josh's thigh was pressed close to his, closer than need be. * * * * * *

Two hours later, while he was packing his suitcase, Josh knocked on his door. He let him in and returned to his task.

"Why are you doing this now?"

"Couldn't sleep. What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Sam nodded. "Sober yet?"

"Somewhat. You?"

"Marginally."

"You must be if you're able to use big words."

"I can always use big words."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh yeah? What for?"

"Sam, you can stop being nonchalant now. I'm sorry for being insensitive earlier. It's taking a lot for me to admit this, so please just say 'Alright, Josh.'"

"Alright, Josh."

"Mean it."

"Jesus, you can be such a pain in the ass."

"I know."

Sam looked up at him. "I forgive you."

"Good."

"Why are you so interested in my love life?"

"I'm interested in your sex life. There's a difference."

Sam took a breath, and forced himself to stay calm. "Somehow, I find that even more disturbing."

"Sorry."

"You've said 'sorry' three times in five minutes, Josh. Are you ok?"

"I don't know." Josh's tone was serious and Sam's grin faded.

He dropped the shirt he was folding and walked over to him.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know." He looked at Sam with wide, confused eyes.

Sam touched his shoulder and met his eyes.

Maybe, if they had been somewhere else, if they hadn't been somewhat drunk, Sam could have controlled what happened next. But later, he resigned that he wouldn't have. He had plenty of chances the rest of the night, and he had still gone through with it.

No, it happened because this was Josh and this was New Hampshire and New Hampshire would always equal Josh to him; would always equal love.

So he kissed him; licked at his lips like they held the keys to his soul and sucked at his tongue like he'd find the key to his heart beneath them. He nearly felt like he had.

And Josh had moaned and pressed against him and tried to feel every bit of him. He began murmuring how much he'd wanted this, wanted Sam.

Sam couldn't form a reply to that. He just went about his best to convey to Josh that he felt the same way by sucking his neck, licking down his chest, fondling his balls, and finally taking his cock deep into his mouth.

Josh Lyman, shaking and panting on satin white hotel bed sheets as he approached orgasm turned out to be a fascinating sight. Sam nearly lost himself in watching Josh, rather than in the feeling of what his mouth was occupied doing.

After he had coaxed Josh to completion, he found himself pinned to the bed a second later with his frenzied best friend's mouth all over him.

"What the hell are we doing?" Sam had panted at one point, while Josh's mouth was hot on his collarbone.

"Well, if I have to tell you, Sam."

He jerked Josh's head to meet his eyes. "I'm serious, Josh."

Josh rocked his hardening cock against Sam's thigh. Sam unconsciously hooked his leg around Josh's waist and pressed closer.

"We're doing what *we* want for a change."

Sam shook his head, trying to convey some rational thought. "We can't. We gave up what *we* want when we started working for Bartlet."

"I know." Josh lowered his eyes, defeated. Part of Sam wanted to scream at him not to give this up without a fight.

A second later, he lifted his head again. "I know we shouldn't do this. I know we can never do this again. But I've wanted this long before Bartlet, Sam-- long before Lisa. I want to pretend this is us, ten years ago, the way it should have been."

"Why didn't you *say* anything?!" Sam was torn between rage and shock.

"I never knew how you felt."

"Jesus, you *asshole.*"

"I didn't!"

"So, all I needed to do was jump you ten years ago like I did tonight."

"Yeah."

"Wait, wait. Then why didn't *you* tell me you were bi when I told you?"

"Because, I wasn't bi. I mean, not in the true sense of the word. The only guy I ever felt like this for was you. And mostly it's just-- it's just who you are, Sam. It's *you*. Not gender."

"So, coming out to me would have meant telling me your feelings."

"Right."

"You stupid idiot."

Josh grinned, "Yeah," and began moving against him.

Sam groaned and kissed his neck. "So much-- uuh. Wasted time."

"I'm sorry."

"That's four."

"What?" Josh's voice had taken on a breathless tone.

".. Counting your.. sorry's."

"you crazy.. brilliant.."

Then all talk had seized as Sam rolled them over and plunged his tongue into Josh's mouth.

* * * * * * * *

Sam thought that waking up in the morning next to Josh Lyman would've been an amazingly happy experience.

It wasn't.

All it did was enforce the knowledge that never again would this happen. Never again would he be able to lie there and admire the way Josh looked curled up on his side, his milky white skin glistening in the sunlight that was creeping through the windows.

To think he could've had this all along. Yes, this, but nothing else though. He would never be able to have it all. Sam watched Josh sleep and his heart ached.

That morning, lying in bed with Josh's head on his chest and his fingers running up and down his skin, he told his best friend what he meant by his comment that night so many months ago.

"You remember when I was packing up the stuff in my apartment and said that I found it funny that you can think you've found The Real Thing in someone. And then someone else comes along."

"Mmm-hmm."

"I didn't mean Bartlet."

Josh looked at him. "Oh?"

"I meant you."

Josh was speechless, just as he was that night. Finally, he managed, "I'm your Real Thing?"

Sam touched his face. "You've always been."

Something close to tears was in Josh's eyes, and Sam kissed him because he knew watching Joshua Lyman cry would finally be his undoing.

They made love as passionate as any two people that knew this was going to be their last time would.

And that night, as they boarded the plane, they left New Hampshire behind.

* * * * * * * * * *

On night in August Josh had managed to stay late at Sam's apartment working. Sam was in a bad mood. And instead of ignoring it all like common sense told him to, he brought it up. Why should I be the only one hurting, he thought bitterly.

"It's been a year since I came with you to New Hampshire. You know that?"

Josh had been gathering his papers into his briefcase and looked up at Sam, surprised. "Yeah, I uh, was thinking that earlier."

"Did I do the right thing?"

"What do you think?"

Sam ignored him. "Will we win?"

"We'll win."

He had to say it. He didn't know why, didn't know why he felt the need to drag it all up again but had to. Perhaps to acknowledge the fact that it *did* happen. That wasn't some late night fantasy like the many he had over the years. At times, he couldn't be sure.

"We'll still have lost."

Josh looked hurt and sad and regretful. "Sam--"

"Don't."

"Sam, I lo--"

"Josh, please don't." If you didn't want him to reassure you, then why the hell did you bring it up, you idiot, his mind screamed at him.

Josh paused. "I love-- New Hampshire, Sam."

Sam's heart lurched in his chest. "Go, Josh. I need to be alone on this 'anniversary' of sorts."

Sam watched him walk dejectedly to the door. Then watched in horror as he turned, and came back, and walked right into Sam's space and kissed him.

"I'll always love New Hampshire, Sam."

Sam shook his head. "I can't say it, Josh. You have too much of me already."

Josh nodded and walked to the door. He paused again. "If we lose, we'll still win."

Sam's throat felt tight. "Yeah," he managed to croak out.

"And if we do win-- I'll never forget New Hampshire."

"Neither will I," he whispered as Josh walked out.

* * * * * *

That was six months ago. They won of course. Sam had never been so torn between shire happiness and depression in his life. A month ago they began their jobs. And today marked another anniversary-- another anniversary that had begun and ended with New Hampshire.

Although this one they didn't acknowledge. This one was too painful to speak of.

They'd won all right, but at what cost?

Sam could only hope that one day, he'd win for real.

That one day, his own Real Thing, could actually be just that.

His.

* * * * * * * * * * *

END