Sam stepped out of the cab and into a winter wonderland. It had started snowing about an hour ago, but already the streets were blanketed in the white stuff. Pulling his coat around him against the damp cold, he dashed into the restaurant.

When they had wanted snow in December, old man winter had teased with a few flurries here and there, but not enough to even attempt a snowball. Now the holiday festivities were over and the January blues had kicked in, the winter was in full swing.

Christmas in the Harrington household had been a calmer affair this year. Before Sam and Ali had had a chance to return to the hospital, they got the call relaying that Christopher was awake. His recovery had been slow but steady, which was good for the family, but a big annoyance to the man himself.

The head of the household was not a fan of staying in one place for long and did not grasp the concept of relaxing. But Sam's mother laid down some strict new house rules and her husband had no choice but to follow them.

At Ali's encouragement, Sam had worked up the courage to at least talk to his mother about the events leading up to Thomas's death. It was a revelation to Sam when his mother informed him she had been living under the assumption Thomas had gone out on that fateful night to visit his girlfriend Sophie. Sam felt ashamed explaining to her the real reason was because of him, but to his mother's credit, Evelyn immediately backed up Ali's perspective, refusing to put any blame on Sam.

Talking about Thomas was something the family unit as a whole seemed to avoid and unbeknownst to each other, it was hurting them all. Sam and his mother both promised to honour the memory of Thomas by making an effort to talk about him.

As such the holidays had been full of stories about his older brother and with each one Sam felt the constant pain in his heart lessen a little. It was oddly freeing and he loved that Ali was getting a feel for who Thomas was and what he meant to them all.

It had been harder for his father to join in on the reminiscing. But at least Christopher had not actively avoided it. Sam made sure to spend lots of time at the Harrington household, sometimes just sitting discussing the daily news with his father. They had not talked like that for years. If ever if Sam was honest.

These hours together kept Christopher occupied and thus calm but had the added benefit of bringing the two men closer together. Through dialogue, Sam learned more about what motivated his father and was surprised to discover it was not so far from his own stance. They simply went about achieving their goals differently.

It was Sam who brought up the topic they had argued over - meeting Leif Stewart. To his credit, Christopher told Sam they didn't have to go into it, but Sam insisted his father explain why it was important for Sam to get involved. Taking his time, the older Harrington laid out his arguments, emphasizing he respected his son's stance on not wanting to enter into the field of politics, but he wanted the opinion of someone he could trust about the potential candidate before backing the man.

His father wanted his opinion? The thought had never even occurred to Sam. Of course, he had never stopped to listen to his father's request. He had just jumped to conclusions. With this newfound information, Sam offered to meet with Mr. Stewart.

Turns out Leif Stewart was pretty impressive.

Sam scanned the restaurant for the man now. He was easy to spot, his bright red hair standing out amongst the late dinner crowd. Rising to greet Sam, he met him at eye level, both men being similar in height. Dressed in a deep blue suit that complimented eyes reminiscent of the ocean, the man's handshake was firm but brief.

It reminded Sam of the first time he met Leif, in a similar restaurant a few weeks ago. 

Then the greeting had been awkward at first. He countered Leif's "Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Harrington." with a laugh at being called by the name. "Mr. Harrington is my father. Call me Sam."

Leif flashed a broad smile full of perfect white teeth. A smile the cameras and the voters would love. "Thanks, Sam. I'm Leif. Please take a seat."

Following the suggestion, Sam pulled out the chair opposite Leif and plunked himself into it.

"How is your father?" Sam genuinely believed the concern in the other man's tone and facial expression. This man was good. Or honest. He wasn't sure which yet.

"He's well, thank you."

"I was concerned when I heard. My own father had a series of heart attacks so I know the toll they can take." Leif took a sip of his water.

"Yes. It's a slow recovery." Finding a reason to bond with others. Another tick in the good politician column.

The evening had progressed like this, Leif opening up his life like a book for Sam to read. He met Sam's eyes straight on as he answered every question or offered his opinion. Leif Steward was a true New Yorker, born and bred in the Bronx. His mother was a school teacher and his father had been employed by the city until his final heart attack took his life far too young.

The future politician spoke dreamily of the days when as a child, he would go into work with his father. City hall was a place of awe for the young boy, a place of promise, where people could go to sort out their problems. To him, his father was the man who turned misery into relief as he solved people's issues and sent them home better off than they were when they entered the building.

He became animated as he told stories about his father. The treasure troves the man would come home with included all sorts of odds and sods the people he helped had given him as thanks. Including a baby pig. Where someone in New York got a baby pig, they had no idea and didn't like to ask. Lief had been desperate to keep it, really wanting a pet. He would have preferred a dog. His parents explained they didn't have the room or time to properly look after the animal. In the end, his cousin who lived on a farm in upstate New York took the pig in.

In his youth, Leif thought his father a kind of hero only lacking a cape. He wanted to grow up to be just like the man. In his teens, he worked with his father during the summers and there he got the rude awakening of just how hard and cruel this world can be on the already downtrodden. Still, the younger Mr. Stewart watched as his father treated everyone with kindness and respect, trying his best for them.

Some would have come out of that situation vowing to stay away from anything to do with government. Not Leif Stewart. His experiences had the opposite effect, declaring to fight injustices. He saw first hand how power was not in the policy but the policymakers and he decided to dedicate his life to making this world a better place any way he could.

Now a seat was about to be vacant and Leif Stewart was determined to win it.

Unfortunately for Leif, sheer determination was not enough to get him in the running, never mind elected. That's where Christopher Harrington had come in. He had the connections and the power to pull Leif from obscurity into the spotlight.

With Sam's father incapacitated at the moment, Leif was left without the resources to get his foot in the door and introduce himself to the right people who could help him with his bid. But Sam could. He knew the right players. He had grown up with them. Most were all eager to be seen with the younger Harrington thinking him destined for greatness.

This evening was a continuation of a string of lunches, dinner and late-night drinks with the goal of getting support for Leif. Sam had asked Ali to come with him tonight, but as usual, she opted not to go. He suspected she had heard Leif's tale one too many times and while she too liked the man, the wining and dining aspect got boring after a while.

Sitting down at the table Lief had been occupying, Sam spotted the familiar stout glass filled with amber liquid. Sam had assumed Leif's heritage was Irish, with the fiery red hair and all, but it turned out they shared a similar Scottish background. That and a love of scotch was yet another thing they had in common.

"You started without me?" Sam raised an eyebrow mockingly.

"Ha.. yeah." The other man ran his fingers through his wavy hair. "Need a little liquid courage for this one."

Sam caught the eye of the waiter and gave him the "I'll have what he's having" gesture. Turning to Leif he added, "He's a big fish but this one has a heart of gold. It'll be fine."

And it was better than fine. The three men had ended up talking until there was no one else left in the restaurant and the staff were hovering around with nothing left to do. When Sam finally got home, he found Ali asleep on their couch.

Had she been waiting up for him? Sam felt a pang of guilt. He had lost track of time and hadn't wanted to text her so late simply assuming she would have gone to bed.

Sam wondered if he should wake her up.

Looking down at his sleeping girlfriend, he longed to do just that, wake her and tell her about his day. A few weeks ago, Ali had abandoned her desk in his office, instead taking up a spot at Noah's art gallery. With the charity event almost upon them, it made more sense for Ali to be based there as all the running back and forth was wasting valuable time. Decisions at the event space needed to be made and Ali had to be present.

Sam hated the idea of Ali spending more time with Noah but didn't want to reopen old wounds. He had insisted on helping Ali move her office and was a little miffed at the close working quarters Ali would have to share with the arrogant man. But he hadn't said anything, trying to be supportive. Sam trusted Ali and that would have to be enough.

But he missed her. Missed going into work with her, missed her sharp wit and quick solutions to the myriad of little annoyances plaguing the office, the event or even him. Missed having her just down the hall to pop in on when he felt like kissing her. Missed the nearness of her.

Bending down, Sam gently tucked an arm under her legs and her back, pulling her off the couch. Ali stirred at his touch.

"Shhh. I got you. Don't wake up," Sam whispered to the top of her head.

Ali mumbled something about missing but Sam couldn't make it out.

She felt so light in his arms. Sam paused for a moment and studied Ali in the dim light of the apartment. She looked thinner. Was she losing weight? Was she not eating enough?

Admittedly he hadn't been around much lately, with one thing or another. He had cooked for her on the weekend. No, only on Saturday because she was at the women's shelter on Sunday.

And this morning they had only had coffee for breakfast as they had both been running late.

It never occurred to Sam to question how Ali was eating when he was not around. He knew she was hopeless when it came to cooking. He assumed she ordered in. Without Ali, on Sunday he himself had existed on cereal, a protein shake and leftovers.

As he lay her gently on the bed, Sam vowed to look into hiring a cook for them. That way they both would eat better. And in the meantime, he would get up early tomorrow morning and make her a full breakfast to start the day.