We're Here For Whatever You Need, Part II
"So Josh is all right?"
Sam looked over at his wife, who looked back with worried eyes. "Yeah. He was just being unusually Josh-like in the busy with the job sense of the phrase. Donna glared at him and made him play with the kids and sent him to bed. He's fine." As if in assurance of that, he picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip while examining yet another schedule.
"So what was wrong with him?" Her husband's eyes were vaguely frustrated when he looked up. "Not the funny way, Sam. You know what I mean."
"Nothing that hasn't been coming since he got shot, Mallory. Donna and Abbey between them got it under control pretty good, but they hadn't watched him as closely the past couple of weeks, thinking that since there's so much time left, Josh wouldn't be quite as..." he stopped and shrugged. "Obsessed with getting me there."
"This isn't going to be a thing, is it?" she demanded tiredly.
"I don't think so, no, but that's not usually a good indicator, as everyone knows," he replied, a small smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.
"Smartass."
This time, his eyes were dancing when he looked over. "Not here, Mal."
She swallowed a giggle. "No, of course not. This would be a good time for Josh to come in, though."
"Before we get ourselves in trouble? Yeah." Nevertheless, neither spoke for the next couple of minutes, until Josh knocked on the door and let himself in.
"Morning."
"Morning, Josh," Sam replied from the depths of the scattered papers he was examining on the table and a mouthful of a second breakfast.
"Good morning, Josh," Mallory greeted, rising. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Good. I feel good." He smiled and went to close the door; it moved a few inches and then stopped. Donna's face appeared around the edge of it, looking slightly strained.
"You're more trouble than all five of the kids put together, did you know that? Try to remember you've got 51 weeks instead of 5.1 before the election. Mal, Sam, I'll be back in about half an hour. Keep him away from the coffee and make sure he has something vaguely healthy to eat." Without waiting, she crisply closed the door.
"I detect the vague threat of Donna possibly kicking your ass, Josh," Sam mused, shuffling the papers together.
"Yeah."
"Tea or water, Josh?" Mallory inquired.
"Mal, you don't have to-"
"Tea or water?"
"Water, please."
"All right. We're supposed to be talking about what events and speeches Sam and I can appear at together, and which ones we'll be attending separately, right?"
"Right."
"I think that'll be pretty well solved at this stage by working out the event and campaign stop schedule, don't you?"
"You had us meet on this before the schedules are done?" Sam asked. "Josh... have you been letting anyone do anything?"
"Margaret's been doing the schedule, and other people have been answering the phones," he replied, looking somewhat befuddled. Mallory brought the water back and set it and a bagel down next to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek as she did so. "Thanks, Mal."
"You're welcome," she answered, seating herself again. "Josh, I think we should give the schedule a couple of days and then meet again."
"I agree," Sam put in, tapping his pen on the table. "Give it a few days, get reorganized back down from last-minute mode, let the new people start working the way they should be allowed to, and come back after the weekend or so. We're not going to lose the momentum Danny's piece and the ad flood gave us, Josh."
"I want to have it," Josh responded plaintively. Sam smiled gently at his friend of three decades, remembering what Jed had told him after the first strategy session last year.
'Josh and Leo are kindred spirits, Sam; father and son, mentor and student. They'll do anything to protect you, anything to be the guy that the guy counts on. But that also means that they'll run themselves into the ground for you, and give the last full measure of devotion for that which they think is right. Josh will do for you what CJ did fifteen years ago, and more than that, because that's the only way he knows to honor her and her actions. Part of being the guy is drawing the line and taking some of the burden.' Sam had nodded slowly, looking at the posters drafted by CJ's children and aware that Josh would feel compelled to take on their burdens too.
Now, his fingers traced the Seaborn for America design at the top of a schedule. "You will, Josh," he answered softly. "You will, and it will be like nothing the country has ever seen. But you've got to let everyone else do it, too, because otherwise it won't carry that full meaning."
Josh looked over at him, and Sam could see a trace of tears in his eyes, as Mallory watched them play out part of a conversation that had been coming for fifteen years. "I want you to count on me."
"I do. I also want you to count on other people."
"If there's a fall, it's mine to take. Not theirs."
"I decide that, Josh. You know I do." Sam paused. "Before I ran for the House, you told me that there was nothing I could do that wouldn't make you proud."
"Yeah. I did."
"Part of what will make this unique is my willingness to share the risks."
"Sam, I'm here to protect you from whatever crap gets cooked up and thrown your way!"
Mallory stifled a gasp. Sam's lips parted slightly, but he hesitated only an instant.
"You're not CJ."
Josh swallowed, but persisted. "You're right, I'm not. But you didn't maybe see this coming, Sam? You have to let me do this!"
"No, I don't. I don't have to let you do it alone."
"You can't let these kids take that kind of risk."
"It's what they're here for, Josh. Every single one of them is here because they believe, and they believe in the risk, and you're one of the people who taught them that. Don't deprive the next generation of this country's political minds of the chance to truly change the world because you're convinced you should have done something more than what you did!"
"They can't wreck their political careers this young; that wouldn't be right!"
"They're more likely to wreck it if you keep protecting them, Josh. Why else would you have tried to get the four kids to convince me to let them help?"
"I'm still supposed to protect them."
"Josh, you can't protect them any longer. Sam and Al may only be fifteen, but they know, and you can't protect them from knowledge, and you've never wanted to. And even if Huck and CJ didn't know, it still wouldn't be your responsibility or your choice to try to protect them."
"What are you saying?" Josh questioned, an odd look on his face.
"They know about the polls."
"What polls?"
"The polls."
It finally registered. Josh put one hand over his heart. "You didn't," he whispered.
"I didn't," Sam agreed. "Carol did, on CJ's instructions, at CJ's request, at the request of Samantha and Abigail. And you know what, Josh? She, and they, were right to do so, just as the twins were right to tell Huck and CJ later." Josh shook his head vigorously, looking shocked. "Al said, then, that I raised them to believe in the impossible, what was right and what must be done. Sam quoted CJ to me, that it was going to be truly a sight to see. And then," his voice caught, "she asked me how I could ask them not to continue the belief CJ had in me. And Claudia, at last, said, 'But sometimes, you have to know the whole truth before you can commit to something, because only then do you know what you're really believing in.'"
Mallory looked down, tears dripping onto her hands, hearing again the ghost of CJ's voice through her children. You can do this, Mal. You can.
Josh's lips parted, and he sat frozen for a long, long moment. "I will," he vowed quietly, "fulfill that determination and belief and hope." Sam looked over at him, wordless. "And I will do it with the team, Sam. For the whole truth."
They stood, wrapping each other in a long embrace full of promises present and future, all unspoken but with all the force the human spirit can bring to bear.
"Come on," Mallory suggested when they at last pulled apart. "Let's get you back to Donna before you get in trouble."
"Yeah," Josh agreed. They slowly went down the hallway, emerging into mild chaos.
"Your move," Sam prodded gently.
"Will and Anne, could I have you for a minute, please?" Josh called. Will emerged from a slice of quiet office across the room, and Anne straightened and detached herself from what appeared to be an argument about Kansas.
"What can we do for you?" Anne asked, after Will had nodded at Josh in greeting, clearly writing something in his head.
Sam smiled a little at Josh, in a silent, 'I told you so', and Josh smiled at the two of them. A team... the whole truth, and hope, and belief, and determination, and the impossible.
"Can you get the staff together?"
"Sure. When do you need them?" Josh immediately shook his head.
"Not for me. I want you two to meet with them and discuss our message and how we're going to break it down over the next few months, and make sure Sam's stump speeches are ready for at least the next six weeks."
It was hard to see, but Will smiled and nodded. "Right. When do you need that by?" Anne wanted to know.
"First thing Monday?" he suggested.
"Sure thing. Who'll be running the meeting?"
"The two of you. Get Carol if the schedule looks busy." Anne blinked, then nodded.
"Right. Have a good day, Josh."
"You too," he returned, smiling.
"Sam, Mallory," Will greeted, as Anne watched Josh walk off in search of Donna. "Anything we can get for you right now?"
"We're good," Sam answered, wrapping one arm around Mallory. "I've got a thing. See you later."
"Morning," Justin greeted with unnatural cheer.
"Good morning, Mr. Happy," Anne retorted. "Have a seat."
"I hope you brought something to write with," Will recommended as the younger man pulled a chair closer and sat down.
"Um, yeah." He brushed back dark blond hair in frustration as he bent his head to hunt through his bag for the tools of his primary trade. "I've been meaning to get this stuff cut..."
"Because you look so great with a crew cut?" Mike smirked from the doorway. Justin glanced up long enough to glower back before absorbing himself in making sure all of his pens and pencils were working.
"You know," Will said casually, "given your name, we were expecting you to be the one with the crew cut."
Mike grinned impishly and touched her long hair, neatly pulled back in a bun. "Yeah. But I think I did something to impress Sam, so he kind of pulled me in without consulting Josh and Toby."
"I still feel weird using their first names," Leandra said as she walked in, followed by Marcus.
"No reason to," Justin said calmly. "Except for Will and Anne, you've known them the longest, or at least you've known Toby the longest." Leandra lifted an eyebrow at him as Marcus tentatively took a seat on the outside of the rough circle they were forming.
"I've always considered that a reason to address them formally, so I won't be accused of taking advantage of my prior acquaintance. But," she admitted, "I take your point. It's hard to let go of the awe, though."
"Toby would be shocked and appalled if he knew you were in awe of him," Will told her. "Marcus, feel free to sit a bit closer."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize, everybody's unsure at first," Mike told him, turning. "I think that's why Sam liked me, actually."
"He likes you because you get it done, you're not afraid to tell him the ugly truth, like having lost the vote of an entire segment of the California population, and because you bring a perspective he knows he's missing," Anne informed her. "Sit down and try not to annoy Justin too much. You're going to be doing a lot of writing with him."
"That's true," she admitted. "My ethnicity does have something to do with it. But help the person from the opposition who brings it up!"
"The token thing?" Marcus asked tentatively. Mike nodded vigorously. "I worry about that too, actually."
"I'll be more than happy to take care of it for all of us," she told him. Leena surveyed her.
"You remind me a lot of Toby," she told the older woman, who turned, dark eyes alight.
"I think that's the other reason Sam likes me, aside from all the reasons Anne just cited. Anyway... we're writing?" She snagged a pad of paper and a pen from a nearby desk and sat down next to Justin.
"Yeah," Will agreed, adjusting his glasses. "Stump speeches for six weeks and message breakdown for the next three to four months. Et cetera."
"Who are we waiting for?" Justin asked after a short pause.
"Lisa and Rich."
"Oh. Right."
Marcus looked around. "This seems like a lot of people already."
"Oh, this is a small meeting," Will answered with a straight face. "Really small. And very slow-paced and calm." Marcus eyed him skeptically.
"Really?"
"Yes," Will and Mike answered in concert. Anne smiled a bit.
"I wouldn't know from direct experience or anything, but from what I've heard, you'd better make sure you're caught up on sleep and food. You're not gonna have time for either from June or so on."
"Probably earlier than that," Mike suggested. "Sam has busy campaigns." She turned to her writing partner. "Justin, do you want to cowrite, or try a regional split?" He shrugged.
"See how it goes?"
"Okay. We're going to have to figure it out sometime in the next few weeks, though."
"Don't mind me," Carol said as they all faced her. "I'm just watching; Sam was a little worried that things were still kind of..." she waved her free arm, "confused from Josh getting busy with stuff."
"Morning, Rich," Anne greeted the man on Carol's other arm.
"Good morning, Anne." Rich carefully detached himself. "What's been moved?"
"Just about everything," Will said apologetically. Rich chuckled wryly.
"Don't worry about it, Will. This isn't my first campaign. At least the desks are still here." He moved with caution until he found an empty seat with armrests; five previous campaigns had taught him to always have something to hold onto in case he started getting excited during a staff meeting.
"I'll just be over here; ignore me unless something goes wrong," Carol directed, sitting at a desk some distance away from them and opening a folder.
"What're the chances of that?" Mike asked her with cheerful sarcasm.
"We've got plenty of time. I predict this meeting will go quite smoothly."
"And then nothing else will go smoothly ever again?"
"Something like that. You expect anything different?" Carol mock-challenged. Mike laughed.
"I know better after working with you and Sam."
"Hey, guys, sorry," Lisa greeted hastily as she came in. "I'm here. What're we doing?"
"A lot," Anne answered. "Find a seat and we'll get started divvying things up."
"That's a fine word, divvying," Justin murmured from his seat. Mike cheerfully poked him. "It is."
"Okay," Will directed. "There are going to be some changes; Margaret's still working on the schedule, I think. However, we'll be assigning things and making determinations based on the idea that Sam's going to be in a different place almost every day. For those of you not familiar with a national or Presidential campaign, there are likely to be at least three or four different copies of the schedule floating around at any given time. Make sure you have the right one, and make sure you're on time when you're scheduled to depart with the campaign bus or whatever we use. Just to give you a taste of what this is going to be like, Josh is expecting six weeks worth of stump speeches and the message breakdown at least the next three months on Monday morning." He paused, watching for signs of wide-eyed panic; the reactions so far ranged from nervousness to amusement.
"Excuse us," Sam and Al said, looking in. Will glanced over and nodded in greeting.
"Hey. You two need anything?"
"May we watch?" Sam asked.
"Sure." Will turned back to the rest of the campaign staff. "You all know Samantha and Abigail?"
"Hey, girls," Mike waved. "Trying out for the big leagues?" she teased gently.
"Um, yeah, whatever," Al answered, rolling her eyes. "I think we're pretty well versed in the big leagues. For, you know, better or worse."
"Oh," Will added. "If you're having trouble with a regional issue breakdown, Al can help out. If you need a statistic, find Sam."
Now there were looks of wide-eyed... well, not panic; uncomprehending stares would have been a better description. Will suppressed a sigh, and Anne looked somewhat frustrated.
"You're the youngest campaign staff ever for a serious Presidential campaign with a major party," she chided the room at large. "Sam and Al know their stuff; you've all been on this long enough to know Josh's response if you think having fifteen year olds working on Seaborn for America is silly."
"Sorry," Lisa said first. "It's just... I don't know, I'm 36 and I'm used to being the youngest person."
"I'm good," Justin responded promptly. "We don't know what's impossible yet, right?"
"Right," Anne smiled back.
"A long way from Chicago, Sam," Leandra smiled. Sam smiled back, soft blue eyes tilting in her direction.
"Asking questions anytime, Leena?" The smile turned to a grin.
"Absolutely."
There was an odd pause after this. Finally, Rich shifted and held up his hands.
"Don't look at me," he laughed. Over at her desk, Carol smiled quietly to herself, glad they'd been able to bring him on board.
"Anyway," Will tried to pick up, "you're all going to have a busy weekend, and this is one of the few times when we'll all be able to actually meet like this; everything else is going to be shouted to everyone at large in a regional office, or via memo. Anne is the regional coordinator; I'm the senior communications director, or whatever it is. Sam's the candidate, Josh is in charge of the campaign, and Carol makes sure nobody does anything crazy. Let's start with everyone's favorite, free trade."
It was midafternoon before they finally finished taking apart the last major issue and assigning speech sections to it. As they picked up their things, stretching tiredly, Anne called out a reminder.
"Don't forget the thing next Friday, everybody. Casual dress, come prepared to eat and call everybody by their first names."
"Just us?" Marcus asked quietly.
"Mostly it's for the campaign staff and families, but if you've got someone you'd like to bring that won't be scared off by the political talk, sure," Anne shrugged at him in response. "Speaking of which, this can all take an awful amount of time away from everything that's not work."
"I have stories to back that up," Rich offered into the subsequent tide of awkward chuckling.
"Listen to him," Anne directed. "I'm just speaking from the stories I've heard."
Lisa waved her hand. "Okay if I bring my girlfriend?"
Over at the desk, Carol raised thoughtful eyebrows. Mike and Justin both seemed to tense a little, but Will and Anne just exchanged a glance before shrugging in concert.
"Sure. See you guys later," Anne answered.
If possible, the six staffers filing out of the room looked even more confused than they had ten minutes ago.
"John."
John Hoynes tilted his head a little and surveyed the man he still sometimes thought of as his usurper. "Jed, I like Sam Seaborn, don't get me wrong. But..." he paused and shook his silver-topped head. "I don't know."
"Who would you endorse if you didn't endorse Sam?" Leo asked of him from the depths of a soft chair. "Morrison? Frederick? Townsend? Another run for Jamieson?"
He lifted one hand. "Jamieson's done, Leo; anybody can see that. But my endorsing Sam is somewhat akin to one of you endorsing Mareille."
"Do I have to make the party unity argument, John?" Jed wondered. Hoynes shook his head.
"It wouldn't help in any case, Jed. I think the answer to your question is that I wouldn't endorse anybody, reluctant as I am to withhold whatever power I may have left over from my Vice Presidency." He sighed. "I don't suppose you've got a VP short list to help me out?" Leo shook his head.
"It's early for that yet."
"I may have to think about it."
"If nothing else, John," Leo pointed out, "you owe us."
Hoynes met his eyes. "I was wondering," he said with wry cynicism, "when you were going to bring that up, Leo."
"It was inevitable, John," Jed persuaded. "Well, not inevitable, but you can't blame us for pointing out that you do, in fact, owe us."
John smiled. "Even though my owing you is often attributed as the cause of three terms' worth of a Republican White House?"
"Yeah." The former President's steady expression didn't waver.
John Hoynes glanced aside to the former Chief of Staff. "All right. I'm in." He paused. "This is going to be something, isn't it?"
The grins on their faces made them look like they'd never been through the last twenty years. "Like nothing you've ever seen before or dreamed of seeing in a Presidential election," Leo replied, still smiling with the same hopeful eyes he'd used to bring an uncertain staff together. "Welcome aboard."
Josh always wondered why the chill of November made him think of CJ. A sharp gust tugged on his long coat, and he sighed and lifted his gaze from the hardening ground.
"It's because this is when all of us should have realized what was going on," Sam said softly from behind him. His face was reflective, vulnerable, showing no sign that he, junior Senator from California, had just persuaded a former Vice President and three state caucuses to support his bid for the Presidency, a bid that had been born in bitter pain and blood, in a confident touch and glance.
"You think so?" Toby questioned, too softly.
"Toby," Josh said, very gently. A sigh whispered behind him.
"Yeah."
"Do you have the stuff memorized?" Sam wanted to know, trying to sound light. In the back of his mind, he could see CJ crying the tears she had never shed, the tears that had only been shed through her daughters, years too late for CJ herself.
"Nah," Josh told him. "We'll be fine, though."
Toby eyed the other skeptically as he took his gloves off and ruffled through papers in time with the wind. "Okay."
Sam looked at the other two. "Is it a problem if we sit down?" Josh looked at him and then at Toby, who shrugged.
"I don't know. If it's a problem, we'll be the first to know." Sam lowered himself to sit with his shoulder brushing granite and waited while the other two followed suit.
"Josh?"
"Yeah, I'm getting it." Josh breathed on his fingers and resumed his work on the papers, finally tugging out a set of bar graphs, most of them showing good news.
The air changed.
They all heard it, like a slow exhale of relief, a hint of warmth. Josh froze and looked up, and Sam's eyes widened, jumping away from the stone a little bit as something surged.
Toby closed his eyes for a long moment, visibly relaxing.
"Um," Josh started.
"It's all right, Josh." The younger man looked over at Toby, who just nodded minutely. "It's okay."
"Um." He paused again, scanning. "We need help with the Midwest, but only in the sense of we're not as far ahead as we'd like. The Northeast is on board, but I don't know if that can be attributed to Jed and Leo or to the fact that large parts of your platform are more like what they like. And the West seems to like you, for some reason, or at least most of it does."
"Is that the good news?" Sam asked him.
"Pretty much," his best friend affirmed with a smile that wasn't quite his. "We're likely to win or place a close second in almost every primary, and we're working on how to win the ones for which that's not true."
"Excellent. What's the bad news?"
"The South isn't very fond of you, Sam."
Sam's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I think I guessed that."
"Josh, poll again in a few weeks after Hoynes' endorsement has had time to help him out," Toby directed.
"Am I single digit anywhere?" Sam checked.
"No."
"Teens?"
"Eight states."
"Twenties?"
"Ten states."
"Thirties?"
"Six."
"Forties?"
"Ten."
"Above fifty?"
"Everything else?" Josh answered, quirking one brow at his friend, who chuckled.
"Yeah. Sorry. That's great, Josh." Sam shifted. "You know, I don't know what else to talk about out here, since we never really seem to finish the conversations."
Toby's eyes shifted to the gravestone. "Maybe that's because the conversation is never complete, and we... we can't ignore it here." Josh tightened his lips and looked down.
"Yeah." He gusted out a sigh and stuck the papers back in their folder. "Yeah..."
Sam stood, hearing at least one joint pop in annoyance as he did so. "And yet, Toby, I get the feeling that the incomplete conversation is what's been keeping us whole." Toby's dark eyes locked on his in affirmation as he, too, stood.
"I'm going to get ready for the thing," Josh said.
Sam wrapped himself more tightly in his coat. "I'll be there in a minute." Too understanding, Josh and Toby moved away toward the cars, leaving Sam alone with a powerful, joyful surge of determination.
"Your girls are graduating high school in a couple of weeks, you know," he finally said quietly. "Honors and all of that. And then, uh, you know..." he floundered for a second. "I think they're doing a semester, full time, and then part time in the summer. I'd tell them they were delaying their education for the campaign, but it seems a little ridiculous to tell that to anybody graduating high school two and a half years early." Sam's voice abruptly caught, breaking, and he swept a hand over his face. "God, CJ... I wish I knew we were all doing the right thing. I'm more afraid of having done the wrong thing for Samantha and Abigail than I am of anything else, even letting you down next November. You told me I could do this, you left the thing for Sam and Al, the whole truth and the impossible, and yet..." he paused, face turned momentarily skyward, tears glistening, "I'm scared I'm going to screw up, at the same time that I'm confident and determined that we, that I, can do this. How could you have placed this much trust in me?" He placed his hand lightly on top of the granite, twinkling softly in the weakened fall sun.
CJ's words echoed around him again, as if they were forged yesterday, yet in an endlessly ancient whisper, so that it never mattered whether Sam, who had thought himself free of this particular pain and worry for years, truly heard them or not. And hearing them, he straightened, feeling determination flow through him again and understanding how belief could run up through Al's eloquent voice.
"I don't trust you to run for anything and win, Sam. I trust you to run for anything and believe in the right things."
It was only a matter of time before the inevitable.
"Which one is the updated one?" Al asked Margaret.
"The pale green."
"And does the order in which the other ones are obsolete especially matter?"
Margaret paused to think for a moment. "Not really, no. Although if you wanted to, you could collect them in order. Blue, yellow, pink, orange, red, purple, ivory."
Sam pinched her nose and smiled wryly at her aunt. "And then we could tell people which ones they're missing, of the schedules that are already out of date?"
"And then you could use them for... something." Margaret eyed their expressions. "I guess not, huh?"
Al smiled back. "No."
"It must be nice for Josh and Donna to have an early night," Margaret suggested as they distributed green sheets liberally among the desks and cubicles. Sam nodded vigorously.
"I think Joanie and Josiah really appreciated it... probably more than Uncle Josh and Aunt Donna, actually. And this is probably the last weekend Uncle Sam and Aunt Mallory will have with both of them and Zach and Joy in the same house, or even the same state..."
Al chuckled. "Everybody's taking an early night. Even Lisa; she's usually here late, even on Sundays."
"I don't know why she feels like she has to work harder," Sam wondered. "And, I mean, ahh..."
"You don't understand why she might be trying to spend less time around her girlfriend?" Margaret finished. Sam nodded. "I don't know, either."
"You have some ideas, but you don't want to tell us?" Al asked, head tilted. Margaret's expression changed to one of resignation.
"More or less."
Sam's ordinarily quiet face suddenly pinched in mild frustration, and Margaret mentally ducked; for all that Al was ordinarily the more talkative, eloquent, and persuasive, it was her sister who often delivered the final blow in debates and arguments. This time, though, as she continued to move around a corner to drop more schedules off, her eyes widened.
"Aunt Margaret!"
"What is it?"
Sam didn't answer; she'd already tossed the papers onto the nearest surface and scrambled for a phone. "Al, can you..."
The second sister's reaction was even more noticeable; her jaw dropped visibly, and it took her a moment to start searching for the volume control, even with Sam gesturing at her.
Margaret finally came within range of the television, turned as always to some kind of news, and stepped back a little bit in shock.
"Tonight, the surprise story is coming from the previously calm waters of Senator Sam Seaborn's past. New documents provided by an unknown source close to the campaign claim that-"
"Aunt Donna?" Sam raked one hand through her hair, for a second looking astoundingly like her mother in a crisis even though there were tears in her eyes. "Can you ask Josh when the muffins are getting here?"
"-with former colleague Claudia Jean Cregg, who unfortunately died at their birth. This new information is remarkable in that it nearly says-"
At home, Donna rounded the corner, interrupting her husband and youngest son. "Josh? Sam needs a muffin arrival time."
"Tell him we're good."
"No, Josh, Samantha needs to know when the muffins are getting here." At that, Josh stilled completely, almost not noticing as Josiah went off balance. Absently, he caught the boy and set him on the couch. "Where?"
"Phone."
"Sam?" Josh asked worriedly.
"TV, Uncle Josh." Her voice caught audibly over the phone. Josh rotated until he made eye contact with Donna and gestured at the television. Her eyes widened and she flipped it on, moving to a news channel when the default C-SPAN didn't show anything.
It was a different channel, but the words were almost the same. "-her death was not due to complications, but because the Bartlet administration could not suffer another scandal, as two staffers having an affair would have been, hurting their reelection chances." The old head shots of CJ and Sam at one corner of the screen filled in the rest.
If it had been less serious, Josh would have laughed bitterly at how close it was to the truth, that CJ had indeed died for the sake of preventing another scandal to Jed Bartlet's Presidency. As it was, his stomach churned with fury. "Sam, what was on before-"
"A source close to the campaign is claiming that we're Uncle Sam's biological daughters," she replied, a little more calmly than before.
"Shit." Josh paused. "Who's with you?"
"Al and Aunt Margaret."
"Okay, are you okay?"
"Um, mostly? What kind of a question is that?" she demanded.
"All right. Sorry." Josh drew a deep breath. "Are you the only ones there?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, finish whatever it is you're doing, lock everything up, and come here."
"Okay. Just a second." Sam tucked the phone under her chin. "We're supposed to finish up and go back there."
"Got it." Margaret nodded swiftly and went into action. Sam turned back to the phone.
"What else?"
"We'll start making phone calls."
She took a deep breath. "All right."
"Just a second, Sam. Donna?"
"Sam, then Toby?"
"We need the staff at 7 am sharp tomorrow morning, no excuses," Josh answered with a nod. "I'll be right there for Sam." He directed his attention to the phone again. "We'll see you in a bit, okay, sweetie?"
"Okay." Sam's voice sounded muffled; he guessed she was leaning up against a wall. "I'm going to go help Al and Aunt Margaret finish. And I promise to just turn off the TV."
"Thanks, Sam. I love you both."
"We love you too, Uncle Josh. Bye."
Josh set the phone down and leaned against the wall for a moment, taking a deep breath. In a second, he would talk to his best friend, but in the meantime...
Dammit.
None of them could remember ever seeing Carol Fitzpatrick so furious.
"I can't believe they'd pull this pile of shit! What the hell's the matter with these people? Unknown source... yeah, right. Whatever! I can't wait until I find out who's actually responsible, so I can tell them what an idiot they are, what a no-brained asshole they are... and couldn't they have picked something any more idiotic? A child by Laurie, after we already talked with her and verified there is no such individual, something that's been on record for the past decade? Or drag up the old argument about how serving with a President who was censured makes Sam unfit for public office? Why didn't they just bring up the damned abortion debate directly, instead of yellowjournaling it across half the damn country without asking us for a comment? Oh, yeah, that's right, they didn't do that because they were afraid the evidence would get in the way of their damn precious story! How silly of me, it's not like I know anything about politics..." She continued yelling and waving her arms while stalking back and forth for another minute or so, then stopped and rubbed one hand across her forehead, making eye contact with Sam.
"I didn't say anything," he denied quickly.
"Yeah." She sighed tiredly. "It just... pisses me off, Sam! After all that we've, that she's... Oh, the hell with it."
"You all set over there?" Donna asked from where she was sitting with her eyes closed, a small smile playing at her lips.
"For a while. At least until I start thinking about it again." Carol spun, clearly wanting to kick or punch something, and Josh ducked back.
"Um... Carol?" Her eyes flashed to his.
"Focus, right?"
"That would be good, yeah."
"I am focused. I'm beyond focused." She took a breath. "My only question is whether we should use the original tests, or new ones."
"Original," Sam and Josh answered in chorus. Donna opened her eyes and nodded.
"We'll show how easy it is to prove them wrong. Oh, look, you're so stupid we anticipated you over fifteen years in advance, take that," she suggested. Josh threw an affectionate look at her.
"You know I'm the master of declaring victory, Donna, but maybe a little less smugness?"
"Oh, all right." She shook her head. "I still can't believe they were so stupid..."
"You're not working up to a rant too, are you?" Sam asked nervously. She shook her head at him.
"Can we rant now?" Al wanted to know.
"And old tests?" Sam questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"We all took paternity tests while Jed was President, anticipating just this sort of trick years down the road."
"I'm sure Carol will be happy to rant with you in just a few minutes," Josh answered Al.
Sam stood and went to face the twins. "How you doing?"
"We're good. You know, mostly... except for the whole being really angry thing."
"Oh, and the possibility of scandal. I can't believe it's going to be this easy." Al sighed. Sam laid a hand on each of their shoulders, as Josh came up behind him.
"Okay. But we just want you to know... Samantha Joan and Abigail Leona... all of us here? We're here for whatever you need. Okay?"
"Thanks," Sam whispered back, taking Sam's hand in hers. Al met all their gazes with a determination that was unusual, even for her.
"Thanks, Uncle Sam. Just as long," and her mouth tilted in a smile, quiet and delighted, "as you're good with this and remember it: we are here for whatever you need, too."
Josh clapped a hand to his best friend's shoulder. "That goes for all of us."