Disclaimer:

1) I don't own anything related to the West Wing.

2) The title 'The Best of Wives and the Best of Women' is inspired by Lin Manuel Miranda's Hamilton song of the same name.

3) To answer the first question in last week's game, the Chapter title is a nod to Kermit the Frog's Rainbow Connection and is based on The Portland trip episode.

Ratings and warnings: SFW - mostly T rating w/ instances of some mature (but not graphic or explicit) themes. Later installments will have Major Character deaths and will be a little more mature.

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White paper with meaningless words typed in Times New Roman 12 dangled out of Sam's hand as he stared into the abyss from a cream leather armchair aboard Air Force One. 'I- it… it's not…. good enough.' Sam thought as the pilot made an announcement over the intercom. 'I need to rewrite this….. that is if I can write anymore… I need to find Toby.' Sam strode down the hallway.

Sam entered the cabin. "Toby?"

'Finally.' Toby reviewed his notes. "Lemme see it."

"Could I talk to you for a sec?"

'This isn't good.' "Is it done?"

"It... it's not... it's not good. It's not going well."

'Oh God, not again.' "We've had meetings…"

"Yeah, Toby…"

"For the past three weeks!"

"I'm not confused about policy."

"What's the problem?"

Sam's eyes darted. "I'm not writing well. I'm just... I'd rather not distribute this to the pool yet."

'Oh, so that's what this is about.' Toby thought as the steward approached the cabin.

"Mr. Ziegler, Mr. Seaborn, do you know what you'd like for dinner?"

Toby closed his notebook with his teeth clenched. "We'll be eating in the conference room. I'll have a club sandwich, Jack Daniels, and ice."

"Mr. Seaborn?"

Sam's exhausted face looked away. "Nothin' for me."

"You have to have something." Toby implored.

"I'm fine."

"Bring'im a club sandwich." Toby requested.

"Yes, sir."

They ambled out of the room as C.J. met them at the foot of the stairs.

"Nice hat." Toby teased C.J about the Notre Dame hat that she wore out of penance for mocking the President's Alma Mater on the eve of a Michigan game.

"Shut up!"

"Sam an' I are gonna work for a little bit, you'll have draft copies to distribute to the press in about three hours."

"It was already distributed."

"W-what d'ya mean?" Sam's eyes burst with panic.

"It was already distributed."

"You have to get it back!" Sam demanded.

"I can't get it back."

"C.J..."

"They know you're polishing it…"

"I'm doing more than polishing it, C.J., you've gotta get it back!" Sam pleaded.

"I'll tell'em there's a new draft an' then you should…"

"You've gotta get the old draft back!" Sam insisted.

"They're not gonna read it!"

"They might."

"So what?"

"It's very bad writing and it's got my fingerprints all over it!" Sam rationalized.

C.J. laughed. "Sam!"

"C.J., try to get it back." 'It's about more than the Speech or policy changes.'

'Are you serious? That's what this's about?' C.J thought.

Toby continued down the hallway before he called to Sam, "C'mon."

"Ms. Cregg, do you know what you'd like for dinner?"

Sam popped back over. "Try to get it back?"

"SAM!" Toby yelled.

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"Read it ta me." Toby paced the conference room.

" 'I'm calling on all Americans, young and old, Democrat and Republican, or none of the above, to make education a national priority.'" Sam read aloud. 'None of the above, what was I thinking?'

"Okay."

"huh-ugh. 'None of the above.' It's a pedestrian phrase and has no place." Sam made his edits.

"Yeah."

"Also when was education not a national priority before?"

Toby took a deep breath. "Right." He cleared his throat. "It's an easy fix. All we need to do is…" 'Please, just this once, don't be quick enough to catch that and just go with it.'

"No."

'Oh d***, you caught it. It was worth a shot.' "No what?"

"No, it's not an easy fix." Sam looked Toby in the eye.

'Great. We're in for a long night.' "Sam?"

"This should…"

"Yeah?"

"Oratory should raise your heart rate. Oratory should blow the doors off the place. We should be talking about not being satisfied with past solutions, we should be talking about a permanent revolution." Sam proclaimed. 'Maybe he won't notice.'

'Sam's really lost it if he's quoting mass-murdering communists.' Toby paused. "Where have I heard that?"

"Permanent revolution?"

"Yeah."

Sam averted Toby's eyes. "I got it from a book."

"What book?"

"The Little Red Book." Sam whispered.

Toby raised his eyebrows. "You think we should quote Mao Tse-tung?"

'Okay, he noticed.' Sam thought. "We do need a permanent revolution."

"Still, I think we'll stay away from quoting Communists."

"You think a Communist never wrote an elegant phrase?"

"Sam…"

"How d'ya think they got everyone to be Communists?"

'Ok, he has a point there.' Toby thought. "Huh-ugggggghhhhhh. Let's take a walk." Toby walked around the table towards the door.

"Toby, you're the one for the last six months who's been saying we need a radical approach…"

Toby raised his voice. "Yes, yes I have, and I got shouted down in every meeting! I'd love to write a speech about a radical new approach to education, but we don't have one! So unless we can come up with an idea and implement it before land in Portland, I'd prefer not to paint a picture in the interest of great oratory." Toby exhaled. 'Save your oratory skills for professing your love to Ainsley.' Toby thought on his way to the door. "Huh-ughhh. Let's take a walk."

"Can't great oratory inspire an idea that can be implemented?"

"We had six months. We're not doing it half-assed, we're not doing it tonight. Let's go."

"Where?" Hopelessness rang in Sam's words.

Toby opened the door. "Up and down the plane, get the blood flowing."

"Mao knew how ta get the blood flowing." Sam muttered.

"Let's go."

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Sam sat in an armchair as Toby stood up when The President embarked on one of his philosophical rants. "You don't like late flights?"

'Ugh C.J. didya have to bring up long flights?' Toby thought.

'I'm sorry I didn't mean to, I was just asking on behalf of a reporter.' "No, I was just repeating-" She and Bartlet joined them in the cabin.

"A long flight across the night? You know why late flights are good? Because we cease to be earthbound and burdened with practicality. Ask the impertinent question. Talk about the idea nobody has thought about yet." He pointed to Sam. "Put it a different way."

Sam pondered for a moment before his blue eyes smiled. "Be poets."

"If you absolutely must." Bartlet leaned forward.

"Tell Toby."

"Sam…"

"He doesn't wanna use the phrase 'permanent revolution.' "

"In education?"

"Yes."

"Mr. President…"

"Mao took a lot of long plane flights, Toby. Look out your window. Is there anything more romantic than that?" Bartlet pointed out the window.

"Aannnddd … that's why we left at 9:05?"

"No," He turned to C.J. "we left at 9:05 because they thought my budget meeting might run over. But wouldn't that have been great if that was the reason?"

Sam looked up. "Yes."

C.J. shook her head at Sam. 'You're such a romantic. And have no idea how hard you've fallen for her. Just go get her already.'

The President looked to Toby. "You don't like "permanent revolution"?"

The phone rang. "It's a nifty phrase, but I think if we call for a permanent revolution, people are, ... y'know, ... gonna expect one." Toby reasoned. 'Then again, they're used to unfilled campaign promises so who knows.'

Charlie stood in the doorway with the phone. "Mr. President?"

"We're flying, Toby. Live a little." He walked over to Charlie. "Yeah?"

"Mr. McGarry."

"Oh, Leo, just take the d*** boat…"

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Sam collapsed into the plush leather chair on Air Force One with his cold, uneaten sandwich in his hand when thoughts of Ainsley and his guilt for missing their standing dinner date flooded his mind. Well, 'date' wasn't the right word. That would imply that they were in a relationship, which was definitely not the case. She was just his friend and colleague. One who's cheeks he desperately wanted to cradle in his hands so he could feel her silky, lily-white skin against as he kissed her. A colleague who's hair he longed to see splayed out on his navy blue pillowcase as he lost himself in the depths of her eyes. 'What the heck? What am I thinking? It would be unprofessional. And besides, she's a Republican. It would ruin both of our careers. But nonetheless, I just wish we could have had our purely platonic, professional standing dinner appointment so I could pretend to protest when she stole my fries, and sometimes my dinner, and engage her in heated debates. It's just…. everything about her amazes me, like how she put Larry, Moe, and Curly in their place and then took their muffin and even the way she changed my mind me on small business fraud.'

President Bartlet, C.J, and Charlie entered the cabin again as they continued to discuss their pilot education program.

"Ainsley..." A sleeping Sam muttered.

"If anyone ever wanted a definition of love, they got one right here." The President referenced the Marriage Recognition Act's Federal definition of marriage as he took Sam's sandwich out of his drooping hands and then gestured to the overhead bins. "Charlie and C.J., could ya get a blanket and pillow from overhead?"

"Yes, Mr. President." C.J. handed the President a blanket that he draped over Sam as Charlie put the pillow under Sam's head.

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What do you think of this take on why Sam was having trouble writing the speech?