Author's note: Strictly speaking, this doesn't need to be split into two parts here at the way I have on my LJ, but it just keeps it consistent. It's really the same unbelievably huge chapter, and I hope you enjoy it.

We're Here For Whatever You Need

Later that year, on the first Tuesday in November, the most astounding story appeared on the front page of every major paper in the country. Caught by the headline, "We Want You For Decision '18", passerby took a look at the byline.

And then they looked again.

'Daniel Concannon - In a bold move not seen in decades, Senator Sam Seaborn of California named his campaign staff two weeks ago, and shortly thereafter declared his intent to take the issues of this Presidential election, one year off, directly to the people.

Generally, positions are filled after the major primaries, when the candidate has a better idea of whether or not he'll actually need those people. Senator Seaborn, however, is slowly revealing a long-crafted strategy aimed at changing the heart of American politics forever. Already, ads are peppering our airwaves with information on things like energy, education, health, crime, coastlines, human rights, terrorism, pollution, guns and every other issue you or I could possibly think of. And in a manner destined to make them famous in the circle of American politics for all time, the Seaborn for America team has crammed facts into these ads, letting the American people make a more informed decision...'

"How many times are you going to read that?"

Amy didn't even look up from the paper. "Until it sinks in."

"Amy," Donna put in wryly from where she leaned over the back of a chair, "you're my boss and you have been for many years, and you know I respect you very much, but if it hasn't sunk in by the tenth reading, I don't think it's going to make it."

She turned in mock indignation, caught the expressions on her companions' faces, and smiled. "All right," Amy conceded, folding the paper in half and dropping it back on the table. "Let's get started."

"I thought you had a thing."

"I thought you did."

"They let the two of you run things?" Carol inquired.

Donna sighed. "So they say."

"It's our assistants," Amy replied with mock solemnity. "They stay all night and give the illusion of activity. What's your thing?"

"I'm still reading Danny's story."

"You are not," Donna retorted.

"Okay, I'm not," Carol returned, without looking up from where she was scribbling notes carelessly. "I'm still not completely over it, though."

"You didn't ask him to come back?" Carol shook her head vigorously at Donna.

"Absolutely not. I'd never ask him to do something like this... and I shouldn't be surprised that he did. It's just..." Carol trailed off, running her fingers along the edge of the table.

"He was inspired by something extraordinary?" Amy asked, eyes sharp and understanding.

"Yeah," Carol sighed. "Yeah. He's always been happy to be the happy uncle, but..." She stopped again, bowing her head and letting her thumb run restlessly along the edge of her notebook.

"But what?" Donna asked softly, hands folded neatly under her chin.

"When he came back," Carol said quietly, "he said he felt like there was something he didn't do."

Amy looked aside in understanding, as Donna nodded slowly.

"I think we all did," Carol continued, "and we've showed it in different ways through the years. But Danny... the way he... it was that the kindest thing for them was to not have Danny in the room, and they both knew that, but Danny wanted to break through what CJ was becoming and let her be herself again, and he's never gotten over the fact that not only did CJ not want that, he didn't really want it for her, either, because he could see the cost. And so he stayed aside, and never said a word, until he came back over a month afterward. You and I both know, Donna, that he was never quite the same reporter after that. I think he stayed until the last briefing of the administration, and left the business almost entirely, because he didn't want that to happen again... well." She took a deep breath, sweeping one hand across her eyes, and gazed across the room. "This is his final gift to CJ, because he never had a chance before, not when it would have mattered..."

"Does it matter now?" Donna asked gently.

"I think it does," Amy responded. "He had the pull to get that on the front page of just about every major newspaper, conservative and liberal, and people still remember his name. They still remember it. The man hasn't written a news story in a decade and they're tripping when they read the byline."

"Who do they remember?"

"They remember the reporter," Carol answered with a deep breath. "I can tell, from the calls some of the papers have gotten."

"So..." Amy tapped her pen on the table. "That left the door open for some of the ads we've been holding back, don't you think?"

"International or domestic?" Donna asked, straightening.

"Yes," Carol got in. "Don't forget the women's rights one."

"Did we vet that?"

Carol lifted her eyebrows at her colleague. "I don't know. Did you?"

Donna stared at her for a second, then laughed. "Yeah, yeah, we did. Sorry. It's ready. It's an information ad, not an attack ad."

"And," Amy emphasized, "we've got organizations ready to say so, once certain Republicans jump on it as being an attack ad rather than an info spot."

"Good. What else?"

"We already had a big set of ads set up for the next couple of nights."

"Why?"

"I knew Danny was going to run the story sometime this week. I just didn't know when."

"So, tonight, Wednesday, Thursday...?"

"Yes. And the spots are at various times of the day, so we'll catch a lot of people."

"Excellent. Let's talk about the spots for the first primary."

"Sorry," Donna said sheepishly, slipping in and closing the door. "Joanie's at that age where everything in school is exciting."

"Take advantage of it," Andi suggested, raising one eyebrow. "It's not going to last."

"Oh, I know." Donna chuckled.

"You mean my kids have been bored with school for the last fifteen years and never thought to tell me?" Ben asked indignantly.

"I've been trying to tell you that," Andi insisted.

"So you have. Ah, well." He sighed and turned to face both of them. "Scheduling?"

"Yeah," Donna affirmed. "Running afoul of a major bill in either house would be somewhat unfortunate. We're mostly looking to coordinate with the issues our own party wants to bring up, but..." she trailed off meaningfully.

"We have a password."

"You do not," Andi smirked. "Don't listen to him, Donna."

"I've worked with Republicans before, you know," Donna admonished the Congressman, shaking her head. "I know there's not really a password. I've even worked with you before, a little bit."

"Too true." He adjusted his tie a little. "The border with Mexico and free trade. This spring. We know he's coming."

"You want us to reveal our strategy as a preemptive strike, or we should avoid it at all costs?"

Ben sighed and leaned back. "I'm not sure, Donna, honestly. Andi?"

"Sam already knows this," Andi shrugged, "but the Senate Republicans have a bill in committee right now that will loosen even more restrictions on trade, companies, workers... and it'll make his platform on it all but impossible to propose, let alone enforce."

"Yeah, I particularly like the provision whereby restrictions on child labor are that they must be at least ten years of age and make a ridiculously low height and weight requirement."

Donna jerked upright. "When were these put-"

"Just a couple of weeks ago," Ben answered. Andi nodded in confirmation.

"What would happen if certain domestic and international groups were given certain details about these two bills?" Donna wanted to know, face perfectly straight but eyes glinting.

"I don't know what groups you mean," Ben Anders shrugged, "but I would expect that it'd get out sooner or later anyway. There are any number of people who have access to some level of detail on either the House or the Senate version."

"I think that will be taken care of within about half an hour of my phone call," Donna advised, voice dangerous. "What else?"

"I think we can both arrange for resolutions to coordinate with some of the other platforms."

"Mmm," Andi agreed. "They'll be nonbinding, but we can give him some boost on energy, oil, land use, environment..."

Donna nodded gratefully. "Keep it moderate, though... I've seen posters of Sam allegedly hugging a tree a couple of times from his California campaigns, and even when they're trying to support him, that's not the best angle for him."

Ben snorted with laughter. "That's going to keep my mind busy for a while, Donna. Thanks for that."

"Anytime."

"I think we can both keep you updated," Andi told Donna, leaning back in her seat. "That is, unless the honorable gentleman from Minnesota is given a gag order by his leadership."

Ben chuckled in response. "I'm pretty sure that's not gonna happen, but you'll be the first to know if it does. Seriously, Donna, I'm happy to help, in any way I can. I've enjoyed every time I've worked with all of you over the years, regardless of the calls I've gotten afterward."

"We've enjoyed working with you too, Congressman," Donna replied with a brilliant smile. "Hopefully, some day the cooperation will be more common and our parties, while opposed, won't be so busy opposing each other that they make things harder for the country." He nodded in agreement.

"That's always bothered me. I thought about switching parties, but..." Andi chimed gentle laughter.

"We're just as bad. I know. Hopefully we can change it."

"Was there anything else likely to come up?" Donna checked, closing her notebook.

"Not exactly," Andi replied, leaning forward. "Donna, where are we planning on finding a qualified VP candidate Sam can tolerate and who can tolerate him?"

"And who's also not from California," Ben added dryly.

"Yeah." Donna raked one hand through her hair thoughtfully. "We're looking at some governors, I think. You know our long-term plans, of course, but that won't be a factor until the next election at the earliest, even if Sam does well next November. There's actually a number of possibilities, like Frederick, even Jamieson, but to find someone whose pros outweigh their cons..." she trailed off and shook her head. "Sorry. I don't usually contradict myself like that anymore."

"You're not really sure yet?" Anders checked.

"Not so much, no," she sighed. "Check back in a couple of months; we haven't even been through a primary yet." Abruptly, she stopped and frowned.

"Donna?" Andrea queried gently. The younger woman shook her head.

"Sorry. Anyway, it'll be hard to find someone to balance the ticket geographically and politically without endangering Sam's platform and still leaving the way open for a change."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she smiled reassuringly. "I was just... just thinking. About the last time I helped with a Presidential campaign." Andi nodded slowly.

"You've got that thing, right?"

"Yeah."

"We'll see you later, then."

"It was good talking to you again, Donna," Ben added, waving farewell.

"Bye. Thank you." The door closed, and he turned to his former House colleague in puzzlement.

"What was that?"

Andrea's face tightened and her eyes became distant. 'And I am terrified that you will do the same thing...' "That was a former Bartlet staffer."

'Toby, they can't control how many they-'

'I know, Andi! But twins, now, after...'

"I know that. I mean, what was that?"

'I am terrified of something happening to you, and you can't change that. The only thing that can change that is to go back over eleven months and be in that office.'

She looked up. "She was thinking about the last time they did this."

'How do you know that would have changed anything?'

"Oh." He glanced down quietly. "Why is it bothering her so much?"

'Toby? What happened?'

Andi frowned a little, through memory and friendship. "I never told you what happened to CJ and the staff, did I?"

'This doesn't go outside...'

He shook his head. "Not really. I know that it had something to do with President Bartlet's MS, but given the atmosphere at the time..." he stopped and made a disgusted sound. "Well, it could have been anything boxing them in."

Andrea looked down, knowing that she could have done more for CJ, feeling almost as Toby must have, so long ago, sitting trembling in his office and looking at her with fear in his eyes.

'We, uh, had a strategy session--Leo, Sam, Josh, CJ and myself--to plan what to do. Yeah, we looked at both options. Sam was angry about it, and I think deeper down, the rest of us were too, but we were all too busy being political operatives... CJ polled on it. She polled on it, Andi! She followed through on her original intent despite the danger to herself, and she solidified her strategy, and left strategy for us so reelection wouldn't suffer, and she did it to protect the rest of us! There is nothing, no duty, no written statement, no oath, that approaches the level of dedication that CJ ultimately felt was required! And I am terrified... I should have realized why she was pushing herself... I should have done something other than what I did... I'm terrified of what I'm missing...'

When she looked up again, tears had built in her eyes, but she spoke steadily. "It was reelection strategy, Ben. CJ was protecting them on the family values front and whatever else she could. She had polls conducted, after she found out she was at risk for complications, to make sure she was right. And she was right, Ben, you were there... And so, CJ, in those few months between when she found out and her death, wrote Jed Bartlet's reelection strategy and whole sections of strategy for his second term." Andrea's hands sculpted the air delicately, fingers trembling as she encompassed a Presidency. "And she left notes and tapes for her colleagues and for her daughters... and she wrote Sam's election strategy, starting from then. She wrote his One Hundred Days, and she wrote the memo that inspired the Galileo Foundation." She paused to take a breath. "And CJ's daughters know all of this, and so do my Huck and CJ."

Ben Anders stared at her for a moment, then got up and went to the window, facing away. She could hear his deep, gulping breaths.

"Dear God," he finally whispered, turning back. "I had no idea it was so much..."

"Neither did they, while it was happening."

"No one?"

"Sam Seaborn knew."

"Dear God," Ben repeated, finally sitting down again. "I don't know how any of them survived it."

"Take a good look at one of them sometime, and you'll see that parts of them didn't," Andrea advised him. "But now you know."

"Yeah." He looked up. "Why didn't you tell me any of this while we were working on the bill?" For years, that phrase had referred to one bill, and one bill alone.

She smiled briefly, with clear bitterness. "The pain was a little too fresh, or at least it was for them."

He nodded slowly. "Now that I think about it, I can see that in the way Donna responded to the name change."

"Yeah." She stood and picked up her coat.

"So when Donna said she was thinking about the last time she did this..."

"That wasn't quite what she meant? Yeah. They--we, I suppose--don't really refer directly to it."

"What did she mean?"

"CJ." With that, Andi opened the door and was gone, jaw clenched against tight tears.

Anne bent over the national map, fingers of one hand tapping it gently while the other held a pen restlessly. Cars here. Oil over there. Religion there. Civil rights all through there. Mining safety all along that strip. Environment was everywhere. And she hadn't even tried adding Mallory's issues in yet. Little stars marked the locations of the original Galileo Foundation and her daughter foundations: New Hampshire for education, Illinois for treatment/enforcement, a corner of Texas for immigration, Kentucky for crime, Colorado for environment, and Washington for energy. Heaving a sigh, she sat back and tossed the pen down in disgust.

"Well, damn."

Two faces turned to look at her: Andrea Wyatt's expression of ironic amusement, even though the older woman didn't know how to break some of these down any better than Anne did; and Leandra Hudson, about as opposite to Andi as one could get, except for the graceful height she'd acquired. Leena's eyebrows raised in surprise and worry, even as her eyes went to the map, clearly wishing she had more actual experience.

"Southeast or the Midwest?" Wyatt wanted to know, rising and coming to sit along another side of the huge board.

Anne moaned softly in response. "Yes." One hand raked through the dark hair she'd inherited from her mother and grandmother, disrupting the ponytail she'd pulled it into, and she pulled it out and twisted her hair back again. "I don't know why I agreed to be the regional coordinator for this. I must be insane..."

"Shall I tell Josh that?"

Disconcerted Bartlet blue made an appearance as her eyes snapped open. "Don't you dare."

"How are you planning to stop me?" the Senator from Maryland inquired with a sly smile.

Anne sat forward and thumped her left hand onto the map, making the pens laying on it roll about. "I'll think of something."

"It'd be easier if you thought of something for that," the redhead observed, gesturing to the map with her eyes.

"You first."

"No."

"Yes."

"No way."

"Fine," Anne growled after a pause. "But..." she sighed and waved a hand helplessly.

"I just think you can't do this without Josh to argue with," Andi mocked after Anne continued to stare at the map. She glowered again.

"The razor-sharp intellect he's been honing and that Grandpa's been yelling at him about for the past several years, you mean?"

"Yeah, that."

Several more minutes passed, until Westin finally stood and paced, one hand on her hip. "Can we put people in all fifty?"

"Of course."

Anne abruptly paused in her pacing and fixed a piercing gaze nearly identical to her grandfather's on the only other person in the room. "You have more theory on this than I do."

Leandra lifted her dark eyes from the map. "I'm not sure how much theory can help us with this."

"Toby and Josh have never interviewed anybody they didn't think could move past theory. In fact, some of them don't even have the theory."

"Do you want my theoretical knowledge, or don't you?" In the moment after she spoke it, Leena realized the unintentional joke she'd just uttered, and started giggling. Andi and then Anne followed her, the latter rolling her eyes.

"I don't know; how theoretical is it?" she finally asked, eyes still glinting with merriment.

"I may have to ask it," Leandra answered, trying to keep a straight face. Andi snickered again, eyes dancing.

"That's why they call it book-learning."

"Yeah," Anne assented. There was a pause while they composed themselves, then she pointed at the map again. "So."

"In a way, it's useless and even counterproductive for a Democrat as far to the left as Senator Seaborn to campaign in the south," Leandra managed. "But I think you already know that. The only route he can take is to campaign there on some of the safer issues, but that's not as effective as it was ten years ago."

"Why not?" Andi wanted to know.

"Internet," the two younger women replied in unison. Leena nodded and went on. "There's almost nowhere in the country now where someone can't get online and see what he says in other states."

"And then they realize that he's advocating some of the things they hate, and... boom. There go all those electoral votes."

"Don't tempt the wrath of the whatever," the eldest admonished.

"I'm not," Anne protested.

"Okay."

"I'm not!"

"Uhh..." Leandra waved a hand at the map.

"Right." Anne leaned forward. "Did we get anywhere with that?"

"He can campaign on crime anywhere, and education anywhere."

"And then it all breaks up into regional fun."

"Yeah."

"The platform on poverty should start in the South about two weeks before it does everywhere else."

"With equal or greater emphasis?" Andi wanted to know.

"Equal. The head start should emphasize that the Senator knows it's a serious issue there."

"There's too many," Anne sighed after looking at it for a while.

Leandra hesitated visibly. "Don't think about it; just start writing in the issues. You know where everything goes better than I do; I'm just here for the theoretical stuff."

"You're here for more than that," Wyatt advised, watching Anne scan down the issues list and pick up a pen. Leandra smiled quietly.

"Maybe someday I will be, but I'm not very experienced at this."

"Good," the older woman replied. "You don't think things are impossible yet."

"I'm trying to work here," Anne grumbled. She leaned further over the map, dashing issues abbreviations off suddenly in her quick writing over several states. 'Env-er' sprouted along the Gulf of Mexico, and 'Im' over California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. 'En' sprouted along the states of Tornado Alley, where cleaner energy was all too possible but not as prevalent as they'd thought it would be. In a few minutes the map was a scramble of notations.

"Good thing Mrs. Seaborn's issues are being handled by Ms. Gardner and Ms. Moss," Leandra observed, leaning over.

"They don't bite if you use first names, you know," Anne suggested, blocking off regions and sub-regions now. "In fact, they're less likely to bite if you do use their first names."

"It seems weird."

"Don't worry about titles so much. We've got bigger issues." Anne sat up and stretched her arms. "Just give it your best shot, and all of that."

Toby looked over the table at Anne, who had tucked herself calmly into a soft chair and was leaning back, eyes closed.

"What do you think?" Will wanted to know from next to him.

"Shut up."

"Be nice to him," she murmured. "He punched that guy."

"If you're awake, maybe we could proceed," Toby suggested mildly. The former President's granddaughter opened one eye with seeming reluctance, then sighed and sat up a little.

"I don't know what we're doing that Leena and Andi and I didn't hash out last week."

"Please don't use the word 'hash'."

"It's a fun word."

"I don't care."

"So I've noticed." Anne snagged her notebook and pulled it onto her lap, but still lounged casually on the chair.

"Any chance of integrating health care into the Galileo platforms?" Will asked, referring to his pet project.

"Most people think it's solved," Anne pointed out.

"Most people are forgetting that the provisions run out in less than two years."

"So you want, what, for them to get poked with a stick? Some electricity maybe?"

"Brief, educational ads," Will started with a sigh.

"Do you have some ready to go?" she retorted.

"I can work on it."

"Fine," Toby interceded.

"What's our message?" Anne asked suddenly.

"Our message?" Will repeated.

"Yes, Will, our message. The thing that makes everything else go a lot smoother when people like me know it, so I can integrate the message and all of the issues in the states we care about, which right now is all of them!"

"You seem to be doing well without it," Toby noted.

"Thanks, Toby," Anne snorted. "I would do a lot better if I knew what it was we were doing here."

"Do you need something more specific than what you already know?"

Their gazes locked uncomfortably, and after a while Anne sighed.

"I know it's about Galileo, Toby. I know it's about a ten-page memo my grandfather's had for the last fifteen years. I know it's about education. I know it's about doing what's hard and what's right, and I know it's about Seaborn for America. I know we're trying to change the face of American politics, and I know we have every chance of succeeding. But why are we doing it?"

Will gave Toby a slow glance, reluctant to speak.

"Government," Toby finally answered, slow and soft. "Because government should be a place where people come together, Anne. It should be a place where no one gets left behind."

"No one," she echoed softly.

"No one," he affirmed.

"I don't know if I can sell that to over 200 million potential voters."

"It's what you and Will are here for; I'm just here to harass and annoy." Toby lifted his eyebrows in a fashion that was somehow incredibly ironic. "You have almost a year; I'm sure you'll find something." With that, he stood and went out, closing the door sharply.

"He couldn't have given us something easier to do?" Will wanted to know. "Like repairing the ozone layer? Or making a solar energy breakthrough?"

"That's been done," Anne reminded. "Two years ago."

"Right. Something else, then, like," he paused and waved his arms around, "curing starvation."

"Sounds like a good goal to me."

"Where no one gets left behind." Will leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen gently against paper. "No one..."

Anne had closed her eyes again; now she opened them. "If we tackle every issue with the determination we've been taught, Will, then we will have fulfilled that. I don't know if it'll do us any good, but we will have our goal."

Will didn't reply. He had already begun to write, words flowing across the page more smoothly than ink and with more life than a couple of sentences possessed the right to. Unwittingly, he was echoing someone else who had vowed that there be a time when no one was left behind. 'What is relevant is that we all raise our hand and admit we're not fulfilling our promise, that this generation and others may be denied the most essential freedom of knowledge. What is relevant is that we sustain the curiosity and courage and determination that permitted the founding of this country,' and his pen started moving more rapidly.

"I can't believe you came out of retirement," Josh said, reading the article again.

"I didn't," Danny replied gently, setting his mug down and regarding the other two men in the room with quiet eyes. Josh looked up in surprise and set the paper down.

"Why not? The good you could do... Danny..."

Some small joy sparked in the eyes of the former White House correspondent, but he didn't smile, and Will, watching, saw again the quiet withdrawal of the final briefings of the Bartlet administration, the gentle attitude of 'go on without me' of the past year or two as the children grew up more. "I already did good. Two Pulitzers is pretty good."

Josh stared for a second, then snorted with laughter. "Dammit, Danny, you know what I meant."

"Sure I do."

"And you gave us a huge boost."

"A one-time boost, Josh. You know the effect won't be the same a second time around."

"Yeah, but..." Josh paused in frustration, one hand in his hair.

"A probable impossibility is preferable to an improbable possibility."

"Huh?"

"That," and Danny gestured at the paper, "is a probable impossibility, Josh. And it's not gonna happen again. I was happy to help, but you know and I know and Will knows it was a one-time thing."

"Josh?" Will queried after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah."

"I think Danny wants to move on from the topic of his improbably possible return to print media and the possibilities of... something." He turned to the silver-haired former reporter. "Something?"

"The Mets had a good season."

"They did not..."

"Something else?" Will begged in despair, anticipating another argument on an already well-trodden subject.

Josh looked at Danny, a question in his eyes.

"You guys know what you're doing; what do you need me for?" he answered.

"Some of us think we let you down," Josh responded lightly, shrugging, belying the intensity of his eyes.

"Even if you did, it was a long time ago, and I've been helping Sam."

"Yeah, but I still..."

"Josh. It's okay. Just give me a chance to punch the little thing next to Seaborn/whoever, and I'll be happy. Or whatever it is they do for ballots now..."

"You've got yourself a deal," he assented. "Will, let's get this show on the road."

"It's on the road," Will replied in bemusement, standing with Josh.

Josh grinned, an expression that took years off his face. "You ain't seen nothing yet, buddy. Let's go."

"Would you like the barbequing fundraiser to be before or after the one with the carved ice?"

Mallory looked over at Josh. "This is the level of scheduling we're reduced to now?"

Josh didn't respond directly, instead addressing Margaret. "People barbeque in the winter?" he wanted to know. She glanced down, lips tightening in embarrassment.

"No. They do, however, hold extremely large outdoor cooking festivals to test their skill with cooking chickens in a wide variety of spices."

"Where is this?"

"We're on the Midwest."

"Where in the Midwest?" Mal demanded, almost crankily.

"Nebraska."

"And the ice thing is in Minnesota, right?" Margaret nodded vigorously. "Okay."

"Mal, if we don't have this down..." Josh started gently. She turned to him, an expression that might well have been her father's on her usually lovely face.

"Shut up, Josh."

"Mallory..."

"I'm about ready to kick your ass and Sam's into next year."

"Might I suggest the year after that?" Margaret wondered. "Next year isn't really very far away." Mallory turned to her, anger fading a little but annoyance still present, and smiled a little.

"I'll think about it. But who decided it was a good idea for me to be setting all these dates? And are there any issues here, or are we going to be endlessly debating when the best time to eat slow-broiled yellow-necked grouse is?"

"I don't think there's one of those, but if you want one..." Josh responded mildly.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"You did, but I'm ignoring that."

"Why?" Mallory folded her arms and stared at him. Margaret busied herself with reordering and straightening all the sheets of paper she was holding.

"Because we both know you're just frustrated. And 'cause I'm here to give Sam his shot at winning, and so are you, and you knew it was going to be annoying, trivial, occasionally condescending, and sometimes just weird when you signed up for this."

"I didn't know I was going to be choosing the order of fundraisers, for crying out loud, Josh!"

"So?" He shrugged. "Pick one. It doesn't matter. We're gonna make money anyway... although if you actually want carved ice at the one in Minnesota, I think you have to wait until January or something."

She relaxed a little. "Isn't that cutting it pretty close to the traditional primaries?"

"We don't care about the traditional primaries."

"And here I thought you said a minute ago you were here to give Sam his best shot at winning," she retorted.

"Okay, we do care about them, but not so much that we focus on them. We're about fifty states, not just the two that have the oldest primaries."

For a moment, Mallory didn't say anything, then her eyes narrowed. "You want the Wisconsin primary," she half-accused.

"I do."

Mal turned to Margaret, whose efficient fingers were aligning her small stack of paper with quick taps. "Margaret?"

"Yes?"

"Can we do the ice thing on January 16?"

There was a small pause while Margaret quirked an intrigued eyebrow at her, then lifted her paper to consult her master schedule. "Sam can, but you have that school thing."

"I thought the school thing was in the morning."

"It is."

"Why can't I do both?"

"Because it'd involve extremely precise travel coordination in the middle of winter?"

"Mallory, it's okay if it's just Sam, don't tempt the wrath of the whatever-" Josh started. She shook her head.

"It's what I'm here for; why do you think we had to keep changing campaign staff in California? Margaret, put us both in for the ice thing on January 16."

"And the chicken thing?"

Mallory gazed off thoughtfully. "Put that down for the thirteenth. Get back to me, not Sam, if it doesn't work out."

"You sure about this?" Josh checked.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure. Margaret?"

"Yes?" Still writing, Margaret glanced up at her through a line of reddish bangs.

"Do we have a map for this?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." She fished it out from the pile and unfolded it before handing it over. Mallory's fiery head bent over it for a minute.

"I want a copy of this as is and a copy with state events on it, with the dates of the primaries as well. Before you give that copy to me, I want your best guess on when to have the events. Can you handle all that, Margaret?"

"When do you need it?"

Mallory quirked an eyebrow in thought before responding. "Three days."

"I can have it for you in two days, unless I run into scheduling problems when I'm working with Amy and Josh on the platform schedule tonight." Mal immediately turned to Josh in response.

"Don't give Margaret scheduling problems, Josh."

"I never mean to."

"Well, don't."

"Maybe."

"Please?" she asked, with a sigh he knew well.

"I'll do my best. Can I pull someone in to help Margaret if I do give her scheduling problems?"

"First of all, since when do you need my permission for that, and second, who would it be?"

"I don't exactly need your permission, that's true, but this is your schedule and Sam's schedule and I didn't think you'd want anybody playing with it without your knowledge, and I was thinking of Donna. She doesn't get to schedule much anymore."

"Doesn't Donna have other things?" she observed.

"Yeah, but," he shrugged, "sometimes she gets tired of those things and just wants to organize. And it's not like she can't work with Margaret."

"Why don't you use Huck?" she asked, placing her elbow on the back of the seat and letting her fingers brace against one cheek in a fashion she'd almost certainly picked up from Huck's mother.

"Huck Wyatt?"

"Is there another Huck you know?"

"There's fourteen in this county, actually," Margaret put in without looking up. They both stared at her, and with that she did glance up and shrug. "Sorry. The calorie count in the raisin muffins from the mess is still wrong."

"Thanks for letting us know, Margaret," Mallory sighed, eyes sparkling with affection, and turned back to Josh. "Well?"

"He's fourteen years old."

"How old are Sam and Al?"

"That wasn't fair."

"How was it not fair, Josh?" He looked frustrated for another long minute, then visibly relented.

"Okay. You're right. I just... it seems weird to have all these kids, you know?"

"Thanks, Josh." Mallory smiled warmly. "Good luck with the rest of the scheduling."

"Thanks, I'll need it," he answered with a quiet, worried frustration.

"Tell them I need the governor's office first thing tomorrow morning," Josh directed later that day, opening the door. "And get the Montana delegation together tonight--Ow!"

"You okay?" Amy and Margaret could hear Anne question from the larger office.

"Which governor's office?" a puzzled voice followed it immediately. Josh, still rubbing his shoulder, rolled his eyes.

"Poor guy," Amy muttered to the wide-eyed Margaret, who was watching Josh rub his abused shoulder.

"Alaska, who do you think?" Josh retorted. They could practically hear people ducking.

"Um, Pennsylvania?" the same voice guessed again after a long pause.

"Better. But I meant another swing state."

"Michigan?"

"Yep." Josh turned to them with a long-suffering expression. "Anne, don't send one of our lefties out there to talk to them, whatever you do."

"All I've got is lefties," she retorted.

"Find the rightest staffer we've got, then, give them a crash course, and ship them out there."

"Josh, it's a phone call. To a Congressional delegation of one or something."

"Did I say Montana?"

"Yes."

"I meant..." he rubbed his face, looking tired. Amy stood and strode to the door.

"Anne, check his notes and see which delegation he really meant; I'm sure he got one of the letters right... if you can't find it by the time we're done, we'll have Margaret find it."

"Josh meant South Dakota," came the sudden prompt from the other woman. Josh straightened in response.

"Yes! That was it. I knew it was one of those western states. Yeah, Anne, do the thing for that, will you?" She waved a hand at him.

"Have your meeting, will you? We can handle this for a while. It's not even busy."

"Thanks." He waved back in a vague fashion and closed the door, leaning up against it.

"You okay?" Amy asked with concern. Josh rubbed his hands over his face wearily.

"All these new people... it's like trying to get Congress to cooperate."

"Doesn't sound that hard," she lobbed back promptly. His mouth quirked into a slight smile.

"Yeah, fair point. It's just that they don't know what they're doing, and I want them to know what they're doing, 'cause they're smart and they want to win. The lack of having a clue is kind of distracting, though."

"Josh, what exactly are you worried about? If they're not fast enough to pick it up in a few weeks, you let 'em go. You've got enough time for that."

He opened one eye and looked at her. "What's the date?"

"November 10, 2017," Margaret replied promptly. "It's 8:32 PM."

"Oh. We have almost a year?"

"You got ahead of yourself a little, didn't you, Josh?"

"Yeah," he confessed, looking at her with a small and awkward smile.

"You looked a little too frazzled for almost a year out," she agreed, stepping up to him and touching one cheek lightly with her fingertips. "Go home for the night, Josh. Margaret and I can handle the scheduling; there's nothing so urgent that we can't check the few things we can't handle together with you tomorrow or even the day after that."

Josh eyed the schedule in Margaret's hand with a hurt look. "I don't want to let him down."

"You won't. Go home." Close enough to hear the pattern of Josh's breathing, Amy suddenly brushed her hand across his forehead. "Josh, you're a little warm."

"Am I?" he wondered, tiredly pinching his nose.

"Margaret?" Amy checked, half-turning. "Is this-"

"I don't know," she denied, shaking her head vigorously. "He hasn't said anything to me."

"Call Donna. We'll send one of the kids home with the car or something."

There was a knock on the door, and before either woman could protest, it swung open to reveal Carol.

"Anne gave me a call earlier and said things were getting tangled. What's up?"

"What's wrong with Josh?" Amy asked her. Carol's eyes immediately shifted to study him, and she stepped further into the room.

"Why are you asking me? I just got here."

"Because you have the look of an educated woman," Amy replied, voice tight. Brow furrowed, Carol stepped forward to take Josh's wrist.

"I'll take him home," she said after a minute, swallowing.

"You didn't tell me what's wrong with him."

"That's because I don't know." Amy shot her a look. "I don't! I know it has to do with Rosslyn and I know that Donna knows, and I know a few things to watch for, Amy, but I really don't know."

"Whatever. But could you please tell Donna I'd like to talk to her about this later?" Carol nodded reluctantly.

"I don't think you'll be the only one. I only know now because we got so close in the White House." Gently, she took Josh's arm. "Josh? Come on, let's go home."

"I heard every word, you know," he grumbled, stepping away from the wall.

"See you tomorrow, Josh," Margaret told him with forced cheer. He stopped and turned back. Carol closed her eyes worriedly and let loose a small huff of exasperation.

"Right now, it's called situational hypertension," he told them. "That's what it's called right now. Thanks to Donna and Abbey and an attentive doctor, that's all it's called right now, and if we're lucky, that's all it'll ever be called."

Margaret's eyes were huge, and Amy's were dark pools of understanding.

"Have a good night, Josh," she said softly. A smile ghosted across his face.

"You too. I know what I'm doing. See you tomorrow."

Amy waited a full minute after the door closed before she spun to face Margaret, whose face was anxious. "You look like you could use something to do."

"That's usually best," she responded with forced calm.

"Do you still have the list?"

"Um... yeah." Margaret flipped through the pile and gave it to her. "Should we be working on this right now?"

Their eyes met. "I don't know about you, but what happened just now inspired me to make things go as smoothly as possible for Josh."

"Yeah." Margaret sighed. "I was going to say," she started, "that Sam should distribute the nature of his stops equally."

"How do you mean?"

"Don't you think it makes more sense to have him deliver a speech on the importance of careful logging practices on a site that was restored, or is being restored by careful logging practices, rather than having him make it from in front of a town hall or something?"

"He's not doing that already on his own?"

"We're not very far along yet. And this was never an issue in just, you know, California."

"Sounds good to me," Amy affirmed. "Let's work on this for as long as we can before I have to go out there and handle the thing with the governor."

Margaret smiled widely in relief, though a tinge of nervousness remained. "Good. That's great. So... by state, or by issue?"