Title: Wicked City
Author: Perpetual Motion
Spoilers: ITSOTG Pairing: Sam/Josh
Rating: PG
Summary: "Don't let the wicked city get you down."
Disclaimer: They're not mine. They belong to NBC, Aaron Sorkin, and some other people whose names I don't remember.
Author's Notes: I'm reading this book right now, and I read the line, and this came to me immediately. I had to share.

Wicked City by Perpetual Motion

"Don't let the wicked city get you down."

For some reason, a reason Sam's really not sure of, he's coming up with quotes from Sylvia Plath. In his mind, in the back corner filled with all the trivia he's ever known or will ever learn, he remembers it's from The Bell Jar, and he remembers reading it in an English class in college, and he remembers how he thought it was an okay book, but not really his thing.

And then he's thinking that it's a pretty decent quote. And that it's pretty damned appropriate because he's never been in a more wicked city in his life. He's been to a lot of cities. He's traveled for the firm, for the campaign, for his own enjoyment, and only in DC has he ever felt like peeling off his skin, shaking the bad off and slipping it back on.

But he knows that's impossible. He's here in DC for at least another two years. He's not abandoning the President because that would be wrong. Sam can't abandon what he believes in. Can't abandon it no matter how wicked the city is or how much it's bringing him down.

Only in DC has he ever seen so much killing without anyone touching anyone else. Spirits have been killed. Hopes, dreams, and sets of beliefs have been ritualistically slaughtered. He's seen the strongest people give up, the weakest succeed, and the most wicked live on like they're breeding in the sewers. He's seen love and hate and politics fucking people over every chance, and he knows he can't leave, but it's starting to get him down, and it's just gotten worse.

Now the wicked city has dragged him to the depths, the ends, the finish of everything that hurts and pokes and stabs. Because now he's sitting by a hospital bed, gripping a hand that's much to cold and much to still, and he's praying to any higher power he remembers from all the trivia in the back of his head, and he's wondering if maybe the wicked city has finally won.

Only in DC could Josh be shot, and Sam knows that they weren't in DC, that they were just a few subway stops up, but to him, it's the fault of DC, because without DC, without that wicked city, Josh never would have been a target, a guy to hit because someone was entirely too ignorant to care what their actions did. And now, Josh is shot and he's almost dying, and Sam doesn't know if he's going to beat the wicked city this time. He's not sure if he can win when his heart will die if Josh does. He doesn't know if he can stay here in DC if Josh doesn't open his eyes and smile and tell Sam that he's loved.

"Don't let the wicked city get you down."

In the back of his mind where the trivia lays, Sam remembers that Sylvia Plath committed suicide, that the city got her down, and he hopes he'll be strong enough to not do that if Josh doesn't make it.

But right now, he's almost certain the wicked city will win.

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