My Election Anxiety Is Off the Charts, So Here's Part 2 of Sam & Ainsley's Date

I can barely think, so here is this.

It’s been a week, and it’s Wednesday. But I cover election news for a living, so as you may imagine, my soul is on life support.

Today I spent hours witnessing a right-wing news network defending the former president’s affinity for Adolf Hitler as if it was some silly remark he made about liking Ishtar. Apparently, praising the Nazi dictator who ordered the murder of millions of Jews and other marginalized members of the population — and also wanting generals like his because they followed his fascist orders — is just fine for one part of the political spectrum.

I am not okay. I do not understand how half the country, perhaps a little more than that, is okay with ::waves hands:: all of this. Because eggs were expensive for a little while? The economy that the current president had to clean up because the last one tried to wish away a global pandemic is doing fine now. Not that the current vice president — who is running for president against the Hitler-loving felon/adjudicated rapist/absolute failure of a businessman — had anything to do with that because VPs simply don’t, but people have forgotten everything they learned in high school social studies.

Anyway, I’m also on a medication for my pinched nerve and it’s making me feel like I have many, many concerns but can’t do anything about them. It’s both frustrating and liberating, but it’s also making me unproductive in my free time. But all the feelings I’m feeling need to be channeled somewhere, and I want to just sit and write, but my brain just isn’t braining.

So I thought — because I just don’t care anymore — I’d post the next part of the West Wing fanfiction where Sam Seaborn and Ainsley Hayes were on a date. If you got to the end, you will know that this date ended badly.

There is less banter between the two because, well, that date ended badly and bad things happened to one of them.

Please pardon any details that might not reflect procedures and things that happen in real life. I do research for these things and it’s a great excuse to delay writing, but this is something I wrote without too much thought.

Here’s the next part:

Ainsley came to and heard hissing. Her head hurt, and it felt wet. She blinked her eyes a few times to clear the cobwebs. Had she lost consciousness? What had just happened? She realized she wasn’t moving anymore. Had Sam parked?

“Sam?”

No answer. She was still feeling blurry, and she touched the right side of her head. When she looked at her hand, there was blood on it. Panicked, she turned to look at the window, which was shattered. Still stunned, she couldn’t take her eyes off her hand.

“Miss, the ambulance is on its way. Are you okay?”

Ainsley was jolted by the unfamiliar voice, but she looked to her right and saw what looked like a group of college students leaning over to peer at her through the window.

“What happened?”

“You were in a car accident.”

Upon registering that bit of news, Ainsley looked immediately to her left and was horrified at what she saw. Sam was slumped in his seat, not moving, his window even more destroyed than hers. As she looked around, she saw that the car’s airbags had been deployed but had suffered an impact bigger than they could handle. Sam’s right hand was resting limply near the console, as if he’d been reaching for Ainsley, trying to brace her.

“Sam? Sam!”

“We called an ambulance as soon as we could. It should be here any second.”

“What happened?”

“We saw the whole thing. Asshole t-boned you in the intersection.”

Ainsley looked at the front part of the car, which was awkwardly lodged against the tipped mailbox. That part of the impact swung the rear of the car around, leaving her looking out the broken windshield at the car that hit them. It was also steaming and wrecked, the hood crumpled upwards into the windshield. She couldn’t see who was behind the wheel.

“Looks like a drunk driver.”

She looked back at Sam, who was still completely motionless. Not knowing what could be wrong with him, Ainsley gently put her hand on his and squeezed it. The usual reaction was a squeeze back, but she didn’t get it. Sam was either unconscious or dead. The thought of both made Ainsley start to panic.

“Sam, please wake up. Please.”

“Oh my god, are you Ainsley Hayes?” one of the young women asked.

“Holy shit, Tracy, leave her alone.” Another student pulled the young woman away as she kept trying to peer into the wrecked car.

Ainsley and the students on the sidewalk immediately perked up as they heard the sirens in the distance. She wanted to start crying, but she felt like she didn’t have time. She had to call someone. She had to get Sam to wake up and then bring him home. Whatever was happening… it couldn’t actually be happening. Not even the flashing lights that danced across the wreckage were convincing her.

Before she knew it, a paramedic was leaning into Sam’s window. After a brief assessment, she gestured to another paramedic and started giving out orders.

“Get me a c-collar, oxygen, and a backboard. Looks like the driver took the brunt of the impact.”

“Ma’am, can you hear me?” Another unfamiliar voice.

Ainsley quickly turned to her right, which made her head spin, and she grasped it, wincing. “I can hear you. Is he okay?”

“He’s being taken care of, you’re my job right now. Can you tell me your name?”

“Ainsley.”

“Ainsley, do you know if you lost consciousness?”

“I hit my head.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

She thought, wracking her brain. She shook her head. “No.”

“Okay, we’re gonna assume you lost consciousness, and you might have a concussion. Can you tell me what hurts?” He reached behind him, getting another c-collar to fit around Ainsley’s neck.

“My head. My shoulder feels like something hit it.”

“Can you move your legs?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, we’re gonna get you out of here, but we’re gonna be really careful.” He pressed folded gauze to her face, which caused more pain to radiate through her nerves.

Despite her neck brace, Ainsley looked to her left, seeing Sam being treated. They’d put a neck brace on him plus an oxygen mask, and they were cutting his sleeves open to start an IV. The first medic was shining a penlight into his eyes. The other one said something about internal injuries and “compound leg fracture.”

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“I promise, they’re taking good care of him, okay? Come on, we’re gonna get you out.”

The medic on her side of the car opened the door, sending broken glass onto the ground. As far as she could tell, she wasn’t hurt anywhere but her head and shoulder, and she let the medics undo her seatbelt and help her get out of the car. A gurney was standing by for her, and they eased her onto it, putting an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. She was strapped in and they started to wheel her away.

“Wait.” She removed the oxygen mask. “Please, I can’t just let you take me away without telling me something.”

The first medic looked at the second one and held up his hand. “I’ll go check for you. Jess, stay with her. I’ll be right back. What’s his name?”

“Sam.”

“Okay, I’ll go check on Sam. Keep that mask on and take deep breaths, okay?”

Ainsley replaced the mask and followed directions, leaning back in the gurney and keeping her eyes on the medic as he approached the wreck. The other medic, Jess, put her hand on Ainsley’s shoulder to keep her still and calm.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jess asked.

 What a loaded question that was, she thought. Ainsley gave Jess the Medic a look that conveyed as much, then her shoulders sank. She couldn’t find any words she wanted to say. She didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry, just trying to keep you awake. Don’t worry, okay? They’re gonna take good care of him.”

Ainsley tried to narrow down at least one coherent thought that was also the truth about how she felt about the guy she’d been sleeping with for three months and hopefully many, many more. She just nodded.  

As she fixed her gaze on the wreck from which she’d been removed, she saw more people gathering around the area trying to get a look at the carnage. Some had taken pictures with their phone, and a cop approached one person that he’d happened to catch in the act. Ainsley caught another person, the young woman from when she first came to, pointing in her direction. The cop looked her way, then back at the people in the growing crowd.

The other medic came running back, his face impossible for Ainsley to read. He slowed as he approached the gurney and put his hand on her shoulder.

“How is he?” she asked.

“He’s still unconscious, it looks like he’s pretty banged up. They’ll be able to figure out everything at the hospital, but right now they’re just trying to get him out of the car and get him stable. They shouldn’t be too long, and we need to get you checked out, okay Ainsley?”

Ainsley felt her eyes prickling, but she nodded her head, keeping her focus on the car where Sam still was. The medics talked to each other a bit more before she felt herself being wheeled away, onto a waiting ambulance. Before they closed the back door, she saw people gathering and a bunch of police cars.

What the hell happened? She concentrated on breathing, letting the oxygen go to her head, which was throbbing. And she silently begged whoever was listening to let Sam be okay.

The medics working on Sam had started monitoring his heart and didn’t like what they were seeing. They weren’t getting any responses from him, and it was worrying them how much blood he’d lost between his head and his leg, possibly bleeding from injuries they couldn’t see. After some work stabilizing him, they got him out of the car, onto a backboard, and onto a gurney so he could be put in an ambulance.

When he started feeling movement, Sam started coming around. He couldn’t remember how he ended up on his back, immobilized, his shirt torn open, breathing into a rubber mask, engulfed in searing pain. His vision was blurred, and he couldn’t recognize the voices he heard.

“Sam? Are you awake?”

One of these people knew his name. He tried to find something to focus on, but the pain was coming in throbbing waves.

“Sam, you were in a car accident. We’re on our way to the hospital now, so’s your girlfriend.”

All of those words sounded weird to him. Every single one of them. Not that “your girlfriend” sounded bad, but he hadn’t given it much thought until that moment.

“She okay?” Sam managed to croak.

“She’s okay, Sam. Hit her head, but she was awake and talking. You’ll see her real soon. Just relax, keep breathing, we’re gonna take care of you too.”

Since he was unable to move, Sam did as he was told and focused on the oxygen. A sudden jolt in his leg made him yell and jump.

“Sorry about that, Sam. We’re trying to stabilize your leg, it’s broken in a few places. Angie, let’s get him something for the pain.”

Sam felt a hazy feeling overtake his head. He tried hard to remember what had happened, what caused this accident, but he couldn’t figure anything out. And it was getting exhausting to think about it. He felt his eyelids get heavy again. As they slid closed, he heard the medics pleading with him to stay awake, but he didn’t have the strength anymore.

Thursday Night – 11:55 PM

Ainsley rested in a bed in the emergency room after being scanned and poked and treated. A CT scan showed a mild concussion, and the staff had patched up the cut on her head. An x-ray of her shoulder revealed nothing but some soft-tissue swelling, so they gave her some ice and painkillers. Now they were monitoring her while she waited for someone to get her phone from Sam’s car.

Sam was in surgery, Ainsley was told, and he’d be there for hours. First, he’d been opened up to determine the extent of his internal bleeding. Then an on-call orthopedic surgeon was brought in to operate on his broken leg. Other than that, they had no new information.

So Ainsley waited. She watched whatever television show was on in her room, drank her bottle of water, and waited. She wanted to see Sam. She wanted to call Josh so she could find out more about what he and Sam had talked about. She wanted to call her parents and her friends to let them know what happened. She also wanted to know who that other driver was who plowed into her and Sam.

A bit after midnight, two uniformed cops knocked on the doorway by her bed, accompanied by a nurse. They approached her slowly, trying not to intimidate her, which made her extremely nervous.

“Ms. Hayes,” the nurse started, “these are Officers Randall and Flanagan. They want to talk to you about the accident.”

“We also were able to retrieve your phones.” Flanagan, the female officer, held out a plastic bag and handed it to Ainsley, who took it gratefully.

“Thank you.” She took it out and checked the screen on her phone, which was spared from the impact of the crash. Sam’s phone had also survived intact. He’d handed it to her to hold onto while he drove.

“We have some information about the car that hit the one you were in, and we have some questions for you. Sam Seaborn was driving the two of you, correct?” Randall held onto his belt as Flanagan took out a her own phone and set it up to record, showing it to Ainsley, who nodded to express her consent.

“That’s correct.”

“Deputy Communications Director at the White House?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the nature of your relationship?”

Ainsley bristled. “I’d like to say that’s none of your business, but we’re dating.”

“A long time?”

“Three months. We’ve been friends longer than that.”

“Was he drinking?”

“He had a beer, but he didn’t strike me as drunk. I would have said something to him.”

The nurse interrupted. “Officer, Mr. Seaborn’s blood-alcohol was well below the legal limit. He wasn’t drunk.”

“Understood. Ms. Hayes, do you know who Leonard Hagle is?”

“Yes, he’s the House Minority Whip. Sam and I saw him in the bar tonight.”

“Which bar was that?” Flanagan asked.

“The Speak.”

“Hagle was the driver of the other car. He did not survive, nor did his passenger.”

Ainsley’s face went white, her jaw went slack. “Oh my god…”

“He was drunk, and we’re investigating whether or not he was acting intentionally.”

“You think he hit us on purpose?”

Flanagan piped in. “You said that you and Sam saw him at the bar. Did he see you?”

“He did.” Ainsley was a lawyer. She knew how to handle lines of questioning. But now she was not just a victim, she was a witness to something. She wanted to provide as much information as she had. “We saw him with Jill Mackie and he looked nervous. Sam had heard rumors about Hagle, so it struck us as odd that he was with a reporter.”

“You saw Hagle with Jill Mackie before you left the bar?”

“Yes.” Ainsley studied the two cops, who looked at each other with raised eyebrows. “Was Jill Mackie the passenger?”

Flanagan hesitated. “She was. So, how long after you and Seaborn saw Hagle did you leave the bar?”

“Immediately.”