Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: Sometimes to love is to hurt, and sometimes to love causes hurt. And sometimes love is worth any pain.
Disclaimers: They belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Production and Warner Brothers. No infringement is intended. No money is being made with this.
Authorīs Note: It took so much time to get rid of that horrible writerīs block, but seems Iīm over it--I hope. That feels so great. Thanks to Pat for beta and all encouraging words. Special thanks to Tim, White Star 2, MikeJo and everybody else I forgot to mention for your help. Feedback much wanted and appreciated. Enjoy!

"My heart aches completely every hour, every day. And only when I am with you does the pain go away." ~Christian from Moulin Rouge

*****

For a long time he had lay awake in the still strange bed, listening as the rain hit fiercely against the window. His body tensed as she moved closer in her sleep, her eyes opening sleepily as to make sure he was still there before allowing herself to fall back to sleep.

He lifted his hand to touch her face, letting his fingers run through the silky hair. The numbers on the alarm clock showed he still had a few hours before dawn, and for a moment he thought about sneaking out into the storming night without a word.

Carefully he left the bed, knowing leaving like this again would hurt her. He gathered his clothes from the floor, ignoring the stab of guilt he felt as he glanced at her and found her staring at him.

"Where are you going?" Her whisper was soft, the hurt in her voice carefully hidden.

"I have to go."

"Stay." She sat up pulling the sheet to cover her naked body.

"I have things to do." Leaving the shirt unbuttoned he pulled his jacket on. "Iīm sorry."

"Youīre sorry?"

He sat on the edge of her bed to tie his shoelaces, unable to meet her eyes. The uncomfortable silence filled the room as he stood back up.

"I love you." He whispered from the door.

"I donīt want you to come back." She said quietly, tears falling down on her cheeks, the pain of losing him making her ill.

"Ainsley, donīt."

"I canīt live like this. Every time you leave me like this my heart breaks, and I donīt have strength to gather the pieces anymore."

He turned to look at her, his eyes wet with the unshed tears. "Please donīt."

"Iīm sorry." She turned her eyes away, not wanting to look at his pained face.

Without a word he turned and left the room, leaning against the closed door, listening as she cried heart-breaking in the darkness because of him.

*****

"Have you heard anything Iīve said?"

"Huh?"

"For Godīs sake, Sam." Toby sighed in frustration and tossed the file back on his desk. "This canīt go on like this." The tone of his voice changed softer. "Talk to her."

"How do you..?" He looked up surprised.

"You have friends, weīre worried, we talk."

Sam stood up and walked to the window, staring out to the rain. "She said she canīt live like this."

"Sheīs right."

"I love her."

"I know."

He took off his glasses and rubbed his tired face. "Where were we?"

Toby shook his head. "No, go to her. Weīll finish this tomorrow morning."

With a nod he grabbed his coat and walked out off the office. The West Wing had quietened for the night, only a few staffers sitting behind their desks, dim lights creating lonely shadows on the walls. He reached her office and for a moment he stood still, not sure if he should knock. The last months they had been together, he had simply walked in, his heart filled with love every time he had seen her smiling at him, looking up to him waiting for his lips to touch hers.

He lifted his hand to knock, but opened the door a second later. His heart broke into a million pieces as he saw her eyes darkening with sadness. In that short time he had been allowed to be part of her life, he had learned to read her emotions from her eyes. How they brightened when she saw him, darkened with pleasure he made her feel, or sadness she felt, this time because of him.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked finally, breaking the silence.

"Ains." He started softly, taking a step closer to her.

"No, donīt." She lowered her eyes, the sound of the name which only he used making her heart ache.

"Donīt what?" He asked slightly frustrated.

"Sam, please." She pleaded standing up.

"I love you Ainsley, and I am not ready to let you go like this."

The tenderness of his voice broke down the walls she had built around her heart since the moment he had walked out of her bedroom three weeks ago. Her shoulders fell and she lifted her hand to cover her face, trying to stop the falling tears.

He walked to her and took her in his arms, holding her tight against his chest, kissing her hair and face, assuring everything would be fine again. Pressing his lips against hers he kissed her hard, the love and need for her taking control. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her slender body pressing against him. A soft sigh escaped from him as she returned the kiss with the same passion.

For a short moment he pulled away, staring at her face, the look in her eyes mixed with burning desire and wetness of the tears sheīd shed only a short time before. He stepped back, never taking his eyes away from her. The door was closed and locked now behind him and he offered her his hand to pull her back into his arms.

"I love you." He whispered against her lips, his hands caressing her face.

Only a moments later they lay on the floor on the shawl he had spread. He untied her hair, letting it fell freely on her shoulders. His hands cupped her cheeks and he kissed her softly.

"I never meant to hurt you."

"I know."

"I never wanted you to feel pain because of me."

"I know."

"Tell me how to make things right." His whisper was soft.

"Just love me, Sam. Never leave me."

*****

He lay awake, listening her soft breathing. Gently he tightened his hold, pulling her closer to him. The fear he had felt before wasnīt there anymore. Since the day she had accepted his dinner invitation months ago, he had been afraid he would hurt her in such a way that she would never forgive him. Afraid she would hate him for the rest of her life.

Since the first night they had spent together, he had left before the dawn, leaving her alone. First she had said nothing, hoping one night he would stay, hoping he would understand he didnīt need to leave like that. Later she had asked him to stay, and then just giving up hope she would someday wake up next to the man she loved.

Many nights he came to her late at night, and left before the sunrise. Some nights they sat in the dark living room talking quietly. Sometimes he allowed himself to ask her to sit close to him, wanting to feel her next to him, needing to touch her. But most of the time they made love, and afterwards lay in the bed silently.

"Are you leaving again?" Her question pulled him back from his thoughts.

"No."

She looked up to him and lifted her fingers to touch his lips. "I love you, Sam."

"I know."

"But this canīt go like this."

"I know."

"Youīre hurting me because you donīt want to hurt me."

He captured her hand with his own and played with her fingers before linking them. "Iīm sorry."

"Thatīs not enough anymore. You canīt be sorry all the time." She said softly. "You have to allow yourself to live."

"I know."

"Iīm not Lisa or Mallory or..."

"I know that."

"And Iīm not going to leave you. I love you."

He run his hand up and down on her bare back, drawing soft circles against the soft skin with his fingers. "Can I take you to dinner tonight?"

"Iīd like that." She smiled and reached to kiss him softly. "Weīll be fine, Sam."

"Yeah." His voice was soft. "We should leave. Come home with me."

"Anywhere, Sam."

The End

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All images and characters contained herein are property of Aaron Sorkin,
John Wells Productions and NBC. They are used here for entertainment purposes
only; no infringement toward the rights of Rob Lowe, Emily Procter or
the respective owners of The West Wing is intended.