If anyone has any suggestions for drabbles you'd like to see here, feel free to leave a review or message me and I'll see what I can come up with!

(During 'In the Shadow of Two Gunmen')

Where the hell was he? Toby had been canvassing the west wing for nearly ten minutes looking for Sam, and the place really wasn't that big. He should have been back from doing the morning shows by now; he was supposed to be helping Toby with a press release. So where was he hiding? Having made an entire circuit of the west wing with no sign of his wayward deputy anywhere, Toby finally circled back to the communications bullpen and stopped by Ginger and Bonnie's desks.

"Have either of you seen Sam recently?"

Ginger glanced up from her work. "I saw him go into the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago." She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the men's room down the hall and then returned her attention to the papers on her desk.

Toby raised an eyebrow, his frustration obvious. "And, as that was fifteen minutes ago, it's supposed to help me find him how, exactly?"

Used to such threatening tones, Ginger was unaffected. "Well for starters, I haven't seen him come out," she replied as defiantly as she dared.

Oh. Toby turned to stare at the restroom door. On the one hand, there was a possibility that he really didn't want to know why Sam had been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes. On the other, though, Sam did have somewhat of a track record of hiding in bathrooms. Frowning, Toby tried to recall whether Sam had seemed himself when Toby had seen him earlier in the morning or not. To his chagrin, he couldn't remember. It wasn't as if he'd been paying much attention.

"Did he seem - I don't know - sick at all this morning? Or… anything?"

Ginger looked up at him again, confused. "No. He seemed fine to me."

That settled it, Toby thought. Unless Sam had suddenly developed a horrific illness somewhere between appearing on the morning shows and returning to the White House, he was most likely hiding in the bathroom. But for what reason, Toby couldn't imagine. Muttering something about coworkers who were never around when you needed them, Toby headed off toward the restroom with the intention of forcibly retrieving his deputy. Hoping he'd been correct about the cause of Sam's disappearance - and that he wasn't about to walk in on something he'd rather not - he pushed the door open.

He wasn't sure what to make of the sight that met him as he entered. Sam stood in front of one of the sinks, leaning against it, his grip on the sides of the rim so tight that his knuckles were white. He looked pale. The water was running, and he was staring down at it unseeingly, apparently unaware that there was anyone else in the room.

Toby took a hesitant step toward him. "Sam?"

Sam jumped, his head snapping up to look at Toby's reflection in the mirror. Suddenly realizing where he was, he released his death grip on the sink and turned the water off, trying to appear unaffected as he turned around.

"Toby! Sorry, I… I'm supposed to be helping you with a press release. I guess I just, um…" He cast around for an excuse. "I got distracted," he finished lamely.

Toby moved closer, getting a better look at Sam now that he was facing him. He was definitely pale. "Are you all right?"

Sam stared at him for a second, folded his arms, realized it was clearly a defensive gesture, and quickly unfolded them again. "I'm fine."

"Sam." It was easy for Toby to tell when Sam's "I'm fine"s were real and when they were fake, but usually, he let it go regardless. Not this time, though. Not after what had just happened the day before.

Realizing that Toby wasn't about to drop the subject, Sam unconsciously folded his arms again, staring down at the floor. "CJ asked me to do the morning shows for her."

"I know. I saw."

"I thought maybe… I don't know, I thought she was too shaken up or something to talk about what happened, but it turns out she actually couldn't remember what happened."

Toby frowned. "Does this have anything to do with what's going on with you?"

"Not really."

"Sam…"

"It felt so wrong!" Sam blurted out suddenly. Tightening his arms across his chest, he leaned back against the sink behind him, still looking at the ground.

Toby closed the distance between them so he could lower his voice, knowing that harsh words weren't going to be any help to Sam right now. "What did?"

"I… I kept talking about how the White House isn't letting this throw us off our game, how the president's already calling for it to be business as usual, how we're over it and we're ready to come back swinging. I said that over and over and I just…" He stopped, running his fingers through his hair agitatedly. "It happened yesterday, for God's sake! We were on the ground in a hail of bullets yesterday! I watched my best friend - " His voice broke and he stopped again abruptly, eyes suspiciously bright. Toby pretended not to notice him rub a hand across them. "He's my best friend!" he said finally, still struggling for control. "And I spent the entire morning acting like what's happening to him doesn't even matter to me! I spent the morning acting like I'm completely okay with everything, like I don't even care that he's - that he's - "

"Sam!" Toby stopped the tirade by grabbing the younger man's shoulder, steadying him. "Sam, we all know you're not okay with this. We all know how close you and Josh are." He waited for Sam to make eye contact with him, then continued. "This morning you went on TV and you showed the country exactly what they need to see right now. People are worried, and they should be. The president was just shot; the entire government could very well be in disarray right now. But you went on TV, and you provided a calm face for this administration. You did exactly what you needed to do."

Sam looked away, rubbing at his eyes again, and Toby gripped his shoulder a little harder.

"You did good, Sam. What you did this morning was important and necessary. And when Josh wakes up, he'll know that, too."

Sam's eyes came up to meet Toby's again. When Josh wakes up. He nodded shakily, appreciative of the steadiness of Toby's hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

Sam took a deep breath and nodded again.

Toby let go of him and stepped back. "You know what…" He rubbed his forehead. "Did you want to head over to the hospital?"

"What about the press release?"

Toby shrugged. "It can wait." He headed for the door, glancing back to make sure Sam was following him. "Come on. I'll drive."

So that one was kinda sad... The next one's funny, I promise.