Toby was very clear about the funeral, Leo mused to himself as he dropped his duffel bag and briefcase on the seat next to his. Unlocking the briefcase and pulling out a stack of files - work he normally would be doing at the office, had he not left so early - he lowered himself into his seat, glancing out the window at the tarmac, painted with the last, fading rays of sunlight. It felt strange, almost delinquent, to be out of the office so early - never mind that most people's workdays had ended nearly two hours before. For Leo, it was rare to be out before the sun went down. With his unforgiving schedule, his wife once joked that he signed away his right to daylight when he accepted the position of chief of staff.

Tonight was certainly a worthy exception. Leo remembered Toby's face the previous morning, just minutes after the frantic phone call from his sister-in-law. He knew Toby was never an early riser, and so the sight of his communication director pacing restlessly in the hall that morning at dawn was an anomaly that instantly put Leo on edge. When Toby finally spoke, his eyes dazed and frazzled, his sentences breaking off as abruptly as his about-faces in the corridor, Leo wasted no time with platitudes and expressions of sympathy. He knew there would be time for it later. After five minutes and three phone calls, courtesy of Margaret, he was shepherding Toby into the waiting car for the next flight to Orlando.

Toby sometimes reminded him of an arrow shot from a bow: a forced to be reckoned with, but only when propelled in the right direction. Leo was sure that Toby would have pulled himself together on his own, but Leo's guidance gave him a chance to do, not think, and so he sank into the seat of the car in silence, glancing back up at Leo with something like gratitude in his eyes as the driver pulled away.

An hour later, Leo knocked gently on the president's door and told him what happened before the rest of the senior staff trickled into the Oval Office. The president's eyes were soft as Leo explained Toby's absence to the rest of the staff. When they asked for details - the funeral, a memorial, what they could do to help - he repeated only what Toby had said pacing in the hall. He asked them not to call for a few hours, knowing that Toby needed time to be with his family before he'd be in any state to talk. He was sure, too, that Toby would be embarrassed by his disarray that morning if he'd had the energy to think about it. Better that he could compose himself before the onslaught of condolence calls would begin, if only to spare him that same embarrassment.

The senior staff was ready to fly down to Florida when Toby finally called, but he left no room for argument: for all the publicity his missions had accrued, his brother was a private man and wouldn't have wanted a fuss about his funeral. He thanked everyone for their concern, his voice low and sincere, and promised them that he'd manage on his own and with his family there. When they hung up the phone, the staff exchanged resigned and sympathetic looks before quietly heading back to their offices.

By the next day, it was no longer the first thing they spoke about to each other. But when they saw Leo pass by them in the hall late that afternoon, his jacket slung over his shoulder and his briefcase in hand, it wasn't hard to figure out where he was headed.

Toby was very clear about the funeral, Leo thought, settling into his seat, and he had respected the man's wishes, not daring to fly out the previous afternoon in time for the burial service. He marveled at the speed at which Jewish communities organized funerals for their deceased, often holding services the very same day in an effort to show utmost respect for the body. But Toby hadn't said anything about the shiva, the seven-day period of mourning following the burial, and Leo couldn't stomach the idea of Toby lingering there a whole week without his own friends there. With so much to take care of, he wanted to be sure that someone would take care of Toby, too, or at least look in on him for a few hours.

He sipped at a glass of ice water as he looked out on the ocean, which darkened to an inky blackness as the day's waning light continued to fade. As the plane began to descend, he reached into his coat pocket, feeling around briefly until his fingers touched the folded slip of paper with an Altamonte Springs address scribbled across the top. He hoped the Zieglers wouldn't mind a visitor so late - and one that they surely weren't expecting, to boot.

Leo expected the house to be quiet by the time his car turned onto the Zieglers' well-kept, tree-lined street, but even before knocking he could hear commotion. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell once, and a young man opened it almost before he could lower his arm to his side. Leo sized him up quickly and decided he didn't know the man: too old to be one of David's kids, and too young to be Toby's brother-in-law. When Leo told him his name, the man's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Thank you so much for coming. I know it'll really mean a lot to Toby," he said.

"Of course," Leo replied, holding his gaze, "and I'm so sorry for your loss. How did you know David?"

"I live next door, always have," the man replied. "I'm Mitchell. David and his family was always inviting mine over for get-togethers and holidays, that sort of thing. I figured the least I could do is stay around the house here and help direct traffic. So many people have come already, and it's only the first day."

Judging by the din coming from the living room, Mitchell had an important job for the week. Leo could only imagine how many visitors they would have - David's colleagues, people from the neighborhood, and family and friends from all over the East Coast. "It's very good of you to do that," Leo replied. He hesitated a moment before speaking again, glancing around to get a glimpse of the people inside the house. "Listen, I'd really rather not have everyone knowing I'm here. Publicity tends to follow me a little bit, and I'm sure that's the last thing everyone needs. Could you tell me where Toby is?"

"Of course, and I think you're right. The Zieglers could do with some privacy. Shiva may do a lot of good, but I think they're already exhausted by the attention, and that's just from the people they know personally." He gave Leo a knowing smile. "I think Toby's with his sister-in-law. I'll bring him over."

"Thank you," Leo answered as Mitchell touched him briefly on the arm. He watched as Mitchell turned and walked further into the house, weaving through the clusters of people standing and talking together, a spread of platters and beverages untouched on the nearby dining room table. Along one wall was an enormous frame taking up most of its space. It appeared to be shrouded in a sheet, and Leo puzzled at it a moment before realizing that underneath must be a mirror. He recalled from other shiva calls that Jews traditionally cover the mirrors in their home for the week, so that they do not feel compelled to worry about things as trivial as their appearance.

"Leo?" he heard the unmistakable timbre of Toby's voice, rising in disbelief as the communications director saw him from halfway across the room. Toby came towards him, his mouth slightly open. "Wow. You're really here. When did you come?"

Leo regarded him with something just short of gentle bemusement. "You said not to come to the funeral. You didn't say anything about the next seven days." He reached out to clasp Toby's shoulder for a moment. "And I just came a few minutes ago. Mitchell seems to be holding down the fort."

Toby had recovered from his surprise by then and simply nodded his head. "Mitch is a great guy. He's become our official greeter and usher today, and he's great with David's kids, too."

Leo sobered at their mention. "How are they holding up?"

Toby looked down at the floor for a second. "One hour at a time. The youngest doesn't really understand what's going on. He's only two and a half. I heard him asking for his daddy last night on the way home from the cemetery. And I think the others are still in shock."

The older man nodded, his eyes sympathetic. "And what about you?"

Toby took a breath to answer, but before he could get a word out, the sound of the rhythmic thump of a palm on the dining room table came from the living room. Toby met Leo's eyes again. "They're starting the evening prayer. If you want to stay it'll only take about ten, fifteen minutes."

"I'm happy to stay, as long as it's not intrusive for me to be here," he replied. His past shiva calls had been perfunctory, visits to honor people he'd hardly known. He had never stayed long enough to see what the prayer was like. "Is it alright?"

Toby nodded quickly, already turning to move back into the living room. "Absolutely. The men pray on this side of the room," he said, pointing towards the window. At Leo's look of surprise, he almost smiled. "I know, very traditional. But it's how I grew up and how my father still is." As he spoke, he guided Leo to the side of the room, picking up a prayer book and placing it in Leo's hands. "Feel free to follow along if you'd like to see what we're all mumbling."

With that, Toby turned and moved to a table with a prayer shawl and a basket of yarmulkes. As the din of the room started to quiet down, he placed a yarmulke on his head and picked up a prayer shawl, kissing its collar quickly before wrapping it around his shoulders. An older, bearded man called out a page number, and to Leo's surprise, it was Toby who began the call to prayer.

Leo stood unobtrusively by the wall, watching as the rest of the people in the room bowed at the waist and answered in Hebrew. Uninterested in the meaning of the words, Leo focused his attention on Toby's form as the man swayed back and forth slightly with the rhythm of prayer. He led the service with a practiced ease that Leo would never have expected from the urbane White House official he had come to know so well. He knew that Toby had grown up in a very orthodox family, but it hadn't occurred to him that his background would stick with him so completely. It was humbling, in a way, to learn something new about someone so close to him.

After some minutes of silent prayer, Toby continued to lead a chant, the Hebrew flowing easily from most of those praying. Leo was lulled briefly by its cadence until, with no obvious prompting of the transition, most of the people closed their prayer books and stood in respectful silence. Only Toby, an older gentleman towards the front of the room, and a lanky teenage boy remained standing, and the three began to speak - not chant - in unison. At certain intervals they would pause, allowing the rest of the people to answer in kind, before they would resume again.

As the prayer came to a close, the three took three deliberate steps backwards before bowing right, left, and center. A chorus of amens came as they straightened up and looked at each other intently. Toby pulled the young man in for a quick embrace, ruffling his hair roughly before releasing him and shaking hands with the older gentleman.

Quickly the chatter in the room resumed and increased in volume, the prayer service clearly over. Toby crouched down in front of a brunette woman sitting on a low chair, talking with her for a minute before kissing her on the cheek and walking away, throwing her a concerned glance as he did so. He came over to where Leo was still standing, the prayer still in his hands. "What'd you think of the show?"

"Pretty impressive," Leo answered, wry but honest. "I didn't know your Hebrew was so good."

Toby nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "It's like riding a bike. Some things are just part of your muscle memory."

"Must be," said Leo. "Listen, was that boy one of David's kids?"

"Yep. That's Aaron. He turned thirteen last month, so he's old enough to recite the prayer for the dead. It's only for immediate relatives, at least traditionally. Hell of a bar mitzvah gift, if you ask me."

Leo's eyes widened fractionally. "If that's only for close relatives, then that other man was-"

Toby cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Yes, that was my father. The one and only."

Leo nodded. "So you and him are-"

Once again Toby cut him off. "Yeah, things are alright between us now. It's been a while since all of that went down. And besides, he just buried his son. Nothing brings you together like losing a relative forty years too soon." His words, though meant to be biting and ironic, were cut by the minute cracking of his voice. He swallowed, pressing his lips together tightly before daring to look back up at Leo. "Sorry."

Leo looked at him steadily. "Don't even think about apologizing," he admonished, watching as Toby closed his eyes and took a breath. "You okay?"

Toby nodded, meeting Leo's eyes again. "Yeah. It's just been a lot. I never thought I'd be saying kaddish for my brother." He paused for a moment. "Or at least, not like this. A few years ago, when the shuttle malfunctioned..." he trailed off, struggling to continue. "I never thought it would be like this."

Gazing at Toby's haggard face, Leo was sure that his normally eloquent communications director was barely scratching at the surface. But he knew it wasn't his place to push. When he looked around and saw that people were beginning to trickle out the door, he took it as an opportunity to leave Toby with as much dignity intact as he could. "Listen, it's getting late and I've got to be at senior staff tomorrow before eight."

"Sure," said Toby, "of course." He looked about to speak for a moment before closing his mouth again. "Thanks for coming all the way out here. I can't tell you - you don't -"

"Toby. Don't worry. I understand," Leo assured him. "And you're welcome. They all would have come with me, you know, if I'd let them. They're all thinking of you. But I told them a visit from me would be traumatizing enough. You don't need to see CJ and the rest of the crew on top of it, not right now."

Toby chuckled, the sound more of a huff than a laugh. "I probably couldn't handle her mothering, at least not for a couple days." He looked down quickly. "But tell them all I say thanks anyway. I'll be back in a few days."

"Take your time," Leo reminded him. "There's no rush to come back. And if there's anything you need, you're gonna give me a call, alright?"

"You got it. Thanks, Leo," he said, holding out his hand. Leo regarded him for a moment before ignoring the proffered hand, pulling the younger man into a a brief, tight embrace and thumping him on the back.

"It's good to see you. Take care of yourself, you got that?"

"I got it. Have a safe flight." Leo nodded and turned to leave, walking down the stairs outside and heading for the car. As it pulled away, he caught a glimpse of Toby still standing in the doorway, watching as he rolled down the street and around the corner. As the ride continued, Leo closed his eyes wearily, the echoed cadence of Toby's prayer in his mind keeping time with the car's motion.