The Endgame

by smoria

Toby and Sam take on the tobacco companies with dangerous results

The Endgame

By Sheila

Chapter 1

Donna took a deep breath and blew the hair off her forehead. She went over her game plan one more time, having rehearsed many different approaches in her head. Then she looked down at her watch and saw that she had approximately fifteen more seconds before he would round the corner. Her Josh was nothing if not a creature of habit.

She quickly smoothed her sweater and stood up tall, waiting for him. With five seconds to spare, he turned the corner and walked past her brusquely. He didn't even notice her standing there. She looked at his retreating back with some surprise. Something clearly had his attention. She started after him, trying to keep up with his long strides. After a few steps, she realized that she didn't have to chase him down the long hallways of the West Wing.

"Josh!" she stood in the middle of the tall arched hallway and waited.

The form ahead of her stopped and turned. Josh was carrying a Toby size load of files. He seemed startled to find her at the entryway to the building.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Waiting for you," she said with her hands on her hips.

"Okay," he said and then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. "You only wait for me like this when you really need something or have accidentally destroyed my life or something along that level of severity."

"Ha, ha, ha," she laughed nervously, "such a funny man you are, Joshua. As a matter of fact, I do have a little thing to talk about, but it can wait."

Despite his demeanor, she could see that something was weighing on him heavily.

"Are you sure? You don't have me implicated in another one of your schemes now, do you?"

"Something is going on, isn't it?" she said changing the subject, "you have that look in your eyes."

"Yeah, something is going on," he said seriously.

"What do you need?" she said meeting his eyes.

"Do I have a staff meeting this afternoon?"

"No."

"Can you make one happen, Donna? Is one hour enough time for you to get it together?"

"You got it, big guy," she smiled at him and turned to head down the hall. He allowed himself to watch her leave and then remembered something.

"Donna!"

She turned and looked at him.

"Are you sure that your little thing can wait? The last time you hatched one of your schemes, I went without a door to my office for two weeks," he regarded her warily.

"No, no, don't even think about it, Josh. I've learned my lesson. Your office will not be tampered with again under any circumstances. Don't you even think about it, okay? This won't affect a thing," she said reassuringly walking backwards away from him. She noted his relief and then turned to catch the elevator before it closed. "Except your wallet maybe, but we'll deal with that later," she said softly to herself as the doors closed on her.

"Sam, I am not hanging out with a bunch of teen-age girls and that's final. You should get Josh for this. He's a real pin-up. They'll love him," Toby said as he and Sam entered the Roosevelt Room.

"But Toby, they want you," Sam insisted.

Okay, Sam, that statement right there is reason enough for me to say no," Toby glared at him out of the corner of his eye as he settled in across from Sam.

"Toby, it's flattering. A couple of them have a real flair for writing. I told them that you know more about writing than anyone else anywhere. And, Toby, I gave them some of your stuff to read. They are very impressed. They want to meet you and ask some questions," said Sam as he seated himself beside CJ. He noted the amused look on her face, a look she often wore when he was sparring with Toby.

"Sam, I am no good for your girls. What would I do with a bunch of teen-agers? Either I'll scare them or they will scare me. One of those two scenarios is inevitable," Toby concluded.

"Listen to this," Sam talked on before anyone could object, In my dreams, I see blue skies and green grass, the colors so vibrant that it takes my breath away. When I wake, I rush to my window to relive the beauty of my dreams, but now the colors are dull. This is my reality. This is part of the legacy that my attacker left me. He took the vibrant colors from my life.

CJ felt a shiver run up her spine.

"Who wrote that?" Toby asked somberly.

"A fourteen year old girl named Janice," Sam said.

"You helped her," he accused.

"Oh right, Toby. I translate the emotions of fourteen year old girls all the time," Sam returned sarcastically. CJ watched as Sam and Toby regarded each other intensely. Sam was standing firm in the face of his indomitable boss.

"When are they coming again?" Toby finally asked.

"Next week, they come to meet with the President once more before the Violence Against Women summit," Sam replied never taking his eyes off Toby.

"Tell Bonnie to find an afternoon for me that works for the teenyboppers. I still don't know what the hell they want, but I'll listen. Oh, and Princeton, arrange to be there as well. If anything goes awry, I want you to be there to bail me out."

"This is gonna be great, Toby. You're gonna love them and they are gonna…you know, feel something about you too," replied Sam grinning madly.

"Yeah, I'm all aflutter with excitement," said Toby trying hard not to get caught up in Sam's joy. He turned to see CJ looking at him with arms folded and a knowing smile on her face.

"So what do you think you know?" he challenged her.

CJ didn't even blink. "Toby, you are still the badest man in the whole damn town. Don't worry. I promise not to tell a soul about this little crack in your veneer," she said gently teasing him with laughter in her eyes. Toby squirmed a little in his seat. He had been with this woman for a year now and she could still get to him with the bat of an eyelash. Plus she enjoyed it. If he knew anything about her, he knew that. He was about to launch into some generalized complaining about people's lack of respect for his position in this government when Josh sailed in, Donna in tow.

"Where's Leo?" he demanded of his colleagues.

"I don't know, Josh," Sam said throwing his hands up with mock concern, "we had him cornered five minutes ago, Toby went to get the cage, and then he bolted right past me. Swear to God. Now we don't know where he is."

"Yeah, that Leo is a pretty slippery character," Toby said joining Sam's little party.

"Have you seen him is my actual question?" Josh clarified impatiently.

Before Toby or Sam could further frustrate Josh with their verbal gymnastics, CJ jumped in.

"Margaret just stopped in a few minutes ago. She said he will be out of a meeting with the Joint Chiefs in the next ten minutes," She soothed him.

"I need him here," Josh insisted. Donna sat beside him with a worried look on her face. She could feel the anxiety radiating off his body.

"What's going on," Toby said seriously. He too could sense the energy.

"We gotta leave the cigarette boys alone. This is not the right time."

"No," said Toby simply.

"Don't be stubborn, Toby. You know I have more experience with them than you do. I know what I'm talking about," Josh said as his voice began to grow.

"And you know how I feel about this. So again, the answer is no," Toby said firmly. The tension between the two men grew. Josh slammed his hand down at the desk. He leaned over so that Toby could receive the full effect of his glare.

"You could bring this whole administration down, you know that. But you are doing it anyway. You are doing this because you're a stubborn, prideful man. Is your pride worth the safety of this house, Toby? Is it?" Josh spoke in low, angry tones. Sam's eyes widened at this statement. Toby returned Josh's stare with a similar intensity and said nothing.

"Josh, let's just…" CJ tried to mediate the stressed conversation.

"You're going to be there, aren't you, Sam?" Josh interrupted turning his attention to Sam. "Toby, you don't even have the good sense to keep him out of the way, do you?"

"Hey Josh, you know, treating me like I'm Toby's teen-age son is not exactly going to win me over," Sam retorted angrily. "You should see the responsibility that I have these days. I'm tying my own shoes, and Toby doesn't even have to walk me to the bathroom anymore. What do you think of all that?"

"I think that you are both being stubborn and ignorant, and I think it's going to cost us," Josh shot back.

"And I think you're losing your nerve, Josh," Toby said quietly, his eyes never leaving Josh's face. CJ winced at the comment.

"So you want to go there, huh, Toby. I am sure I can accommodate you," Josh was on his feet standing back from the table. He looked defiantly at Sam and Toby. Sam started out of his chair, but CJ placed a firm hand on his arm and yanked him back into his seat. Toby didn't move a muscle. The tension hung over the room like a gathering storm as they silently regarded one another.

"I am so curious to see what you clowns plan to do with this next," came a tight voice from one end of the room. Leo stood in the open doorway, slamming the door behind him. His words cut through the room. CJ sighed gratefully at his presence. Josh shook his head and turned away from his colleagues at the conference table.

"You guys are playing out that same tired old drama yet again. But this time, it looks to me like you were going to add an action sequence. That certainly is a new twist," Leo said as he walked up to the head of the table. "Do you think anyone would notice if the President's men were thrashing each other in the Roosevelt room?" Everyone shifted a little under the power of that image. No one underestimated the anger in his quiet voice.

"When do you meet with the tobacco companies, Toby?" Leo asked as he took a seat at the table.

"Tomorrow at 1p.m."

"Sam coming with you?"

"Yeah," Toby acknowledged.

"Josh, you still uncomfortable with the approach this administration is taking with the cigarette people?" Leo said. Josh nodded. Leo gestured once with his head and Josh reluctantly took a seat.

"You have anything new, Josh?" Leo asked.

"I was just up at the hill. I ran into a couple of goons from Brown and Reynolds. They were a couple of pretty smug bastards. Not at all worried about your little meeting tomorrow. Acted like very confident about it, in fact. Something bad is going to happen with this whole thing. I can feel it," he stressed.

"Well then, we forget the whole thing. After all, you have a feeling," Toby shot sarcastically.

Do you still think that they don't have the power to intimidate at the level of the President, Toby?" Josh challenged his friend.

"Josh! Did anything else happen?" Leo worked to focus his angry deputy.

"I talked with Congresswoman Hartman. She thinks this is folly. She says we remind her of a bunch of kids with twigs teasing a nest of snakes," Josh reported.

"Well, now there's an image I won't quickly forget," Leo said dryly.

"I can feel it in my gut, Leo. I know they're not going to lay down for us," Josh said.

"I would imagine you're right, Josh. You do have the most experience with these boys," Leo assured him.

"Then why am I being consistently ignored on this issue?"

"Josh, your president wants to clarify his authority with the tobacco companies. That stunt they pulled last month pleading the fifth for an entire week of congressional hearings showed a blatant disregard of this country's laws and their accountability to them. The motions their lawyers have submitted to that committee will keep an Appeals Court judge busy for the next three years. We will not stand for this. There will be no confusion as to who is actually running this country," Leo said firmly.

"I agree with you. I think we should show them what we're about. I would love nothing more," Josh added with conviction.

"But?" Sam asked.

"None of you were around when Hanson went after them. You don't know what it was like. I was there. I remember everything. I learned from it," Josh said fervently.

"You were a kid, right out of Havard Review, working for your first congressman, Josh. Idealism was still a reality for you," Leo returned gently, carefully trying not to engage Josh's ego.

"They killed him, Leo," Josh replied simply.

"Don't forget that I was Bernie Hanson's friend. I brought the news to his wife," Leo said in a low voice.

"And they walked away, Leo. They just walked away." Josh's voice was filled with the haunting memory of Bernie Hanson's death.

"Josh, he killed himself."

"Three hours before a twenty fifth wedding anniversary party he planned for his wife. Does that sound like Bernie Hanson to you, Leo?" Josh's eyes burned with intensity.

"We're not going to have this conversation, Josh," Leo said firmly. Josh looked away in frustration. Another silence gripped the room.

"Josh, we're just going to shake'em up a little. Show them that the Bartlet administration doesn't care that they're the big kid on the playground. We're going to treat them like the bullies they are," Toby added his voice now. He talked softly with in a voice filled with reassurance for Josh. All of the earlier tension was forgotten for him.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Josh asked him.

"No, not really. But I have something of a reputation myself, you know. I suspect it's going to be a pretty fair fight."

"All right, if we're going to do this, I should be in there," Josh said with conviction.

"Not this time, Josh. Let Toby and Sam have a shot at them. They have a little something cooked up for the cigarettes tomorrow," Leo said firmly.

"You can trust me on this," Josh insisted.

"I'm not convinced of that. Right now, you're all over the map about what we should and shouldn't do with these guys. But mostly, Josh, you're still in Bernie Hanson's outer office the day he pulled the trigger."

"Leo…"

"You gotta shake it off, Josh. I'm not letting you in the game until you do," Leo said firmly. Josh opened his mouth again, but Leo waved him off.

"Meeting's over," Leo said simply. Then he got up and left the room. Donna was trying to find some words to say to Josh, words that would make sense to him right now. But it turned out she didn't need to trouble herself. Before she could speak, Josh gave the chair in front of him a resounding kick and stormed out of the room. Sam started after him, but again, CJ had a firm grasp on his arm before he was out of his chair.

"Let him wrestle with this, Sam. He needs to do that," she explained softly. Toby nodded in agreement. Sam sighed and fell back into his chair, and they sat silently, all of them, trying to imagine a way to reach their friend.

Chapter 2

"CJ, is tonight one of those nights when you try to expose me to the finer things in life? Is this an educational meal?" Toby said with some concern as he examined the plate of food in front of him. CJ regarded him from across a table littered with take-out boxes.

"Toby, you told me that you like sushi," she replied.

"I thought that sushi was the fish with the batter on it," he mumbled crossly.

"That's tempura," CJ explained patiently.

"This is uncooked fish, CJ. I know that people eat this, and some of them may even enjoy it, but this is actually the kind of food that you might throw to a seal when you are at the zoo," Toby said critically as he shoved the food around with the chopsticks he was wielding like a pair of ice picks. He remained unsatisfied with any of the angles from which he viewed his meal. CJ watched his little one-act drama with some detachment. She was becoming accustomed to his moods.

"I think that people are generally pretending when they say that they like this kind of a meal," Toby concluded.

"Not me," replied CJ as she dropped a substantial piece of raw tuna into her mouth. Toby winced.

"It will be a lesson to you if I have to take you to the hospital in a few hours so that they can remove the contents of your stomach," he said sounding eerily like her grandmother.

"Toby, you could take your very fresh and expensive fish into my kitchen and cook it. You know where the frying pan is," said CJ slowly trying to keep her patience intact.

"You don't mind," he asked innocently.

"The alternative appears to be watching you put on a dramatic performance the likes of which has only been seen on Broadway. 'Death of a Salesman' is a comedy routine compared to your work," she said with no small amount of bitterness. From the look in her eyes, Toby could tell that she had reached her threshold when it came to sympathy for his current situation. He meekly picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen.

CJ sighed and pushed her plate away from her. Despite her intentions to teach Toby about wasting food, she found it difficult to cultivate an appetite. The events of the afternoon left her worried and uneasy. There was something about the fight in the Roosevelt Room, and there was something about Josh that gnawed away at her incessantly.

He had been afraid. Her friend, the ultimate cowboy, had acted like he was spooked. CJ had never seen it on his face before. She tried to get a handle on it, to understand it better, but it eluded her. He was upset about Bernie Hanson. It had been ten years, but this was the sort of thing that lived and festered within a person whenever a memory was awakened. She understood that; the anger and the pain. It was the fear that shocked her.

She got and wandered into the living room as she thought about her friend. Josh was the President's bulldog. He always rushed headlong into battles. He was the go to guy anytime the President needed a strong arm. And yet here he was stalling, cajoling, doing anything he could to avoid this fight. She couldn't reconcile the images from the afternoon with the Josh she knew so well.

She dropped into a couch and hugged a pillow. This whole thing worried her. The tobacco industry was big, it was connected, and it was arrogant. It wasn't their first big fight, but it held more unknowns and questions than anything they had faced thus far. She rested her head for a minute on the back of the couch and tried to quiet the unease that floated inside her.

"Even cooked, it isn't very good," came a cross voice. She looked up to see Toby displaying a rather sad collection of hot sushi in front of her. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Are you ill? Has the fish begun to affect you? Or are you just a little Zieglered out this evening?" he asked with some trepidation.

"Did you think this afternoon was weird?" she asked looking up at him with troubled eyes. He considered her question for a moment. Then he placed his plate on the table and came over to join her on the couch.

"I thought it was frustrating," he replied softly.

"I've never seen Josh like that before."

"He went through a lot with Bernie Hanson."

"Were you there? Did you know Bernie Hanson?" she searched him for answers.

"Andrea and I were new to Washington then. Andi was on the Food and Drug committee with Bernie. I met him a few times. I liked him. He was a fierce little man. Andi used to say that the pharmaceutical company presidents would soil themselves whenever Bernie walked into the room."

"Not a pretty picture for sure," said CJ attempting a smile. "He doesn't sound like the kind of person who would be suicidal."

"No, he didn't," Toby said softly. He left it as if unsure how to explain that inconsistency. For a minute they sat silently.

"Did you know Josh?" she ventured again.

Toby grinned a little. "Josh was younger than Sam is now, and probably even more naïve, if you can imagine. I didn't really know him well. I just remember Bernie's young and eager aide, always at his side."

"Do you know something?" she pushed.

"No, not really. It was hard time for him. Josh is a loyal man. This was his first congressman. You have to imagine what it's like for a guy like Josh. He was young. He was an idealist. He thought they were saving the world. He would have done anything for Bernie. In fact, I never once saw Bernie without Josh beside him, hanging on his every word."

"Josh was really in the office when Bernie shot himself?" she asked sadly.

"Yeah. Bernie went out for lunch. Wouldn't take Josh with him. Came back later and told Josh and the rest of the staff to go home. Then he went into his office and shut the door. Josh sent everyone home and then waited for Bernie. Josh later told me that he had never left the office before Bernie and he wasn't going to start now," Toby said.

"And then he shot himself," said CJ prompting Toby through the hard part.

"Josh said that when he heard it, he knew in that instant what had happened. The door was locked and he dislocated his shoulder breaking it down. It was pretty bad. Nobody had to check a pulse to know that Bernie Hanson wasn't taking another breath in this life."

"Do you think that tobacco companies killed him?" she asked slowly. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

"I know in my heart that they didn't pull the trigger, but that's all I know. Maybe they scared him or blackmailed him. It's hard to tell," he said, studiously avoiding her eyes.

"Was it investigated?"

"Are you kidding? Nobody wanted to know. If tough old Bernie Hanson could be coerced into putting a gun to his head, what did that mean for the rest of us?" Toby mumbled with his head down.

"Toby, did Bernie Hanson have something on the tobacco companies?"

"Josh says he did. And Andi talks about some papers he mentioned in committee. But he was circumspect so no one really knew what they were. And no one ever saw them. Leo was a good friend of Bernie's. He was the first call that Josh made. That night, after the police and emergency people were gone, he and Josh tore through that office looking for those papers. They never found anything. Some people said they never existed. Said that Bernie liked to bluff like that, to scare the big guys before a hearing."

"They could come after you," she said almost inaudibly. This time Toby found her eyes.

"I don't have mysterious papers, CJ. My plan is to go in there and to let them know that the gloves are off now. We have had ten years of handholding with these guys. They have at least a dozen senators eating out of their hands. The minority whip, Samuelson, all but claims that cigarettes are the backbone of this nation. He probably hangs Lucky Strikes on the tree at Christmas. That's over. We won't support an industry that is making this nation slaves to nicotine and is threatening the lives and well-being of our children. I am going to go in there tomorrow and put them on notice," said Toby holding her eyes the entire time. She was entranced by his intensity.

"It's just I've kind of gotten attached to you in an odd sort of way. I wouldn't want anything to threaten that," she said softly. He reached for her hand and squeezed.

"Come here, Claudia. I'm going to show you just how hard I am to get rid of," he said in a low, gentle tone. She slid over and into his embrace.

Josh sat in the corner of the booth and kept his eyes lowered to the table like a man overly fascinated with the beer in front of him. He did that a lot these days. People acted like he was the next Tom Cruise or something. Most of the time, he liked it. For Josh, there was nothing better than being the center of attention. But it was different when he went out alone. People seemed to feel more permission to walk up to him, to start conversations, to even sit down at a table with him. And tonight was not a good night for him to be approached because while Josh seemed to be alone, he was actually surrounded by quite a crowd. He had Bernie Hanson, the tobacco companies, and his friends all in the booth with him, and he had something to say to all of them.

Such brooding and potentially schizophrenic behavior is often best left to someone's own home, but Josh found that his apartment was too small to contain his dark energy. So he sat there and let his brain go through all the conversations he couldn't get people to sit still for. He brought his head up for a moment to try and signal for another beer and he found himself face to face with one of tonight's intended audience.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked Sam reproachfully.

"Long enough to know that tonight is not the right night for me to hit on you," Sam said with a mischievous smile.

"Very funny, Seaborn. Let's hope that nobody from the Times is sitting in the next booth," Josh muttered.

"How you doing there, buddy?" Sam asked. He ignored Josh's dark mood and slid in the booth across from him.

"How do you think I'm doing? " My own friends think I'm a crackpot," Josh replied giving Sam a glare.

"Sorry about that. It's just that the meeting tomorrow is going to be hard enough. It's not going to help to have you psyching us out," Sam said as gently as possible.

"I'm trying to help," defended Josh.

"I know you are, but this thing needs to be done, and I don't believe that there is ever going to be a good time to do it," insisted Sam.

"Yeah," Josh acknowledged.

"Toby is going to do this no matter what the cost, and I'm not going to let him go in there alone," Sam said with intensity. His declaration filled Josh with memories.

"I would have done anything for Bernie," he admitted.

"You never talk about him. All I have ever heard about is your time with Earl Brennan," Sam observed.

"I remember how he loved to fight for people. Someone would come in with a story. They were being screwed by their health insurance or some government agency had messed up their lives. He would get on the phone and go to work. Nobody walked away empty handed when Bernie Hanson was on the case. It was always such a thrill for me to watch him work. This is what I thought government should be about," Josh paused for a moment as he considered the memory. "There isn't anything I wouldn't have done for him."

"You remember when I met Toby?" Sam asked with a smile.

"I remember you hating him. You didn't want this interloper anywhere near the President's speeches," Josh returned with the beginnings of a smile.

"I was going to be the youngest Communications Director ever, and here was this guy. And I couldn't figure out why anyone would have anything to do with this character. He was a rude, sullen man who took one look at my speech to the nominating committee to the convention and tore it up," Sam said shaking his head.

"You were about to pop a blood vessel, I know that," Josh recalled.

"Then you pulled me aside and told me that there are two things to know about Toby Ziegler. One is that he is an acquired taste, and two is that he doesn't give a crap if anyone acquires it or not," Sam remembered.

"I figured you were going to quit that night."

"I was all packed and ready to go. I was waiting for a 6 a.m. plane to California. Then Toby showed up at my room a few hours beforehand. He had already rewritten the whole speech. He wanted to sit down and read it." Sam threw his hands up into the air. "What can I say? It was amazing. I realized that I still had a few things to learn. Wasn't as ready to have the world at my feet as I thought," he acknowledged.

"And thus, you discovered the wonder that is Toby Ziegler," Josh joked.

"Yeah, but I have a point to make here. I think I understand how you felt about Bernie. Toby is my boss, my teacher, my mentor, and my friend. I'll never tell him any of that, but it's true. I am sure he would be perfectly willing to go in there alone tomorrow, but I'm not going to let him, you understand," Sam said shyly with a bit of red creeping onto his face.

Josh smiled broadly. "Sam, you goat, if Toby could only hear you now. That was one of the sweetest things I ever heard."

The color in Sam's face deepened.

"Don't worry, you idiot, your secret is safe with me," Josh teased.

"Do you really think there is anything to worry about tomorrow?" Sam asked desperate to change the subject.

"I used to think that the cigarette men didn't have souls. I'm still not sure that isn't true," Josh replied soberly.

"We'll be careful in there. We're high exposure and we have incredible resources at the ready. We'll be fine. Besides we'll have you watching our backs," Sam said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But buy me another drink anyway," Josh said.

"Are you sure your delicate constitution can take it? I don't want Donna after me in the morning about how I have corrupted you," he said smiling. "In fact, I think dealing with Donna scares me more than the meeting with the cigarettes."

Josh reached over and took a swipe at his head, but Sam was too quick for him. In an instant, he was on his feet and off in search of refreshment. Josh watched him leave and hoped that nothing would ever happen to destroy the optimism that so characterized Sam's life.

"Donna, how long have they been in there?" Josh yelled from within his office.

"Add ten minutes to the last answer I gave you," she yelled back.

"Donna!!!"

"Okay! Okay!" Donna said appearing in his doorway. "Sam and Toby have been in that meeting for approximately 4 hours and 34 minutes.

"That's an awfully long time for them to be in there," Josh fretted.

"Well, you know, I think that Toby is the scariest thing on the planet. I'm sure that the tobacco guys are cowering in a corner as we speak," she said matter-of-factly.

Josh gave her a long suffering look and returned to his generalized anxiety.

"Hey Josh, how about those Redskins?" Donna asked weirdly.

"That's the fourth time you have asked me that today," Josh pronounced suspiciously.

"Oh," she laughed nervously.

"What have you done to my world, Donnatella?" he asked.

"What!" she exclaimed innocently.

"You have been jumping around for two days trying to gauge my interest in football. I know there is something going on. And since, I can't concentrate on anything until they are out of that meeting, I think a little confession might be good for your soul," he growled at her.

"You're awfully crabby today and you probably have a hang over. Let's table this discussion for another time," she reasoned.

"Donna!!!!"

"Okay, but the yelling has to stop. I mean it," she returned firmly.

"I am calm," he replied unconvincingly.

"I signed you up for a thing," she said rapidly. "See! That's not such a tragedy."

"Tell me more, please," he said simulating as much patience as he could muster.

"You and Vice President Hoynes are in a Fantasy Football team league thing together for the game this weekend," she blurted out.

"Since I don't watch football, this idea seems ill-advised," he said slowly.

"I know and that's what I was going to tell Betty when she called from his office," she agreed.

"But you didn't," he responded incredulously.

"She started to make remarks about you, unflattering things. She was making fun of you," she said darkly.

"What remarks?"

"She said you don't know the first thing about football and then she said that you were from Connecticut," she said with indignation.

"So?" he cried in bewilderment.

"You should have heard her tone of voice. She made those things sound like bad things. I wasn't going to stand for it," she said fiercely.

He stared at her blankly for a minute and then spoke slowly. "Do you realize that there are so many, many more humane ways to destroy me than to deliver me into the clutches of Vice President Hoynes?"

"Do you know anything about football or these fantasy leagues?" she asked meekly.

He gave her a long, pointed look.

"Well then, you don't worry about a thing, you hear. I will learn everything we need to know, and I'll put together a team for you. You won't have to do a thing. You can count on me," she assured him.

"Donna, what is the name of the team out of Green Bay?" Josh asked curiously.

"That would be the…Wolverines…right?" she guessed. Josh reached up to massage his pounding temples.

"How much money will I be losing this Sunday?" he asked with a serenity that reminded Donna of the demeanor that a man might have if he was in shock.

A holler rose up in the hallway interrupting Josh's spiral into madness. He sat up in his chair and she ran to the door. She turned around and looked at him. "They're out of their meeting. Sam looks pretty excited."

Josh was out of his chair in an instant. Donna watched as he rushed past her and down the hallway. Then she let about ten pounds of air out of cheeks as she realized her stay of execution. "Well, Donna," she said to herself. "What do you wanna bet that $500 will sound like a lot of money to him when you finally get around to telling him?"

"Margaret! Margaret!" yelled a voice from behind her. Margaret turned to identify the unfamiliar voice. She saw no one she knew so she continued on her way back to Leo's office.

"Mary Margaret!" insisted a voice, "It hasn't been that many years, has it?"

This time, she heard something familiar in the voice. She spun around with an unidentified sense of apprehension. Before her stood a man that she hadn't seen in twenty years.

"It's Steve. You remember me, Steve Werner. Margaret, for goodness sakes, we dated," he said.

Before her, stood the man who beat her up twenty years ago, acting as if they were at some kind of class reunion.

"What are you doing here in the White House?" she asked feeling stunned and confused.

"Margaret, it has been a long time. I wasn't sure it was you. Can you believe I would run into you after all of these years?" he asked shaking his head in amazement.

"Steve, there is a reason I haven't seen you in twenty years. Do you have a legitimate pass to be in this building or not?" Margaret said as she tried to establish a foothold on this situation.

"I'm with Brown and Reynolds. We just finished meeting with Toby Ziegler."

"Are you having trouble finding the door out of here?" she asked with as neutral a look on her face as she could manage.

"Margaret, I understand your…hesitation. I was a jerk. I am fully aware of what I did to you," he said fervently. She just looked at him as if he was a total stranger.

"For years, I have hoped for an opportunity to tell you just how sorry I am for how I acted toward you," he said.

"You did a lot more than act," she returned.

"I want you to know that I learned from what happened. I ended up going to counseling for my anger. I know what I did." He was unable to meet her eyes.

Margaret had never imagined a moment like this happening to her. It was hard to know what to make of this. She looked at him as one might view an unexpected phenomenon.

"Margaret, I just want you to know that I understand why you left me. You were right to leave. You should have had me arrested."

"Why are you talking to me about this?" she asked with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

"I just want you to know that I have learned from what happened. I never did anything like that after…what happened. I married a good woman and we have two beautiful daughters. And I just want you to know that I am sorry," he replied trying to make eye contact with her.

She was without words. Was she supposed to be happy that he had done well in life? Was there some satisfaction for her in the fact that she was the last woman he hit? Would he like to know that she had questioned her own judgment in every relationship she had since the day that he hit her? She wished she had been given some warning to expect this. There were too many conflicting and painful memories to sift through for her. She had no idea how to react to all of this. People passed by them in the hallways while she pondered his presence in front of her.

"You really should have stayed with your group," she said finally. "It's not okay to be wandering around the halls like this."

"Margaret, I realize that this is a surprise, but I guess I figured that after all these years, you had put this all behind you. It's been twenty years, Margaret," he said with a twinge of impatience.

"You should leave now," she returned. She was unwilling to engage with him. She resented that he felt the permission to have this conversation with her.

"Margaret, I'm back here for a meeting on Wednesday with Ziegler again. I want you to give me a few minutes then. Just a few."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sam conferring with Kathy as they moved down the hall toward her. Sam caught her eye for a minute. She returned her attention to the man in front of her.

"Margaret, I just want a few minutes to talk with you. I think you owe to yourself to hear me out," he reasoned with her.

She felt outside of herself in this moment, like she was observing this whole exchange from another part of the room. His arrogance didn't outrage her. It was more of a curiosity to her than anything else. Where is my anger? She thought with confusion.

"Margaret, I have spent twenty years hoping for an opportunity to tell you that I am not really like that guy who hurt you. I was under tremendous pressure. I was dealing with so many different things back then. And I didn't feel that you were ever there for me. If anything, Margaret, you owe me a chance to explain this to you."

Margaret looked at him as one might with a wrong-headed child. "Steve, the only I owe you is a black eye and two bruised ribs. I don't think I could give one red cent about what you have done with your life or how you have changed." With that, she started off down the hall. He reached out and grabbed onto her arm. She gasped at his touch and pulled away from him.

"Margaret, please," he said.

She walked up to his face. "You touch me again and I will show you just how much badass, $3000 worth of martial arts instruction can buy a person." In that moment, she found the anger that been lost behind her surprise and shock. The color deepened in her face and she felt her hands shaking. Still she didn't back away from him. He stood very still before her, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Steve! What are you doing here?" The voice startled both of them. Sam Seaborn walked over with his imitation of the Bartlet folksy charm. "I thought you left here ten minutes ago. They must be going nuts down at the front entrance. Your group can't go anywhere until you show up."

Sam put his arm around Werner and steered him away from Margaret. "Now, we need to get you back to your people. You guys have a lot to think about before our meeting on Wednesday, don't you? Do you need help finding your way out? I'm sure there is somebody…. Davis! Hello!" Sam spied a Secret Service agent. "Do you have a minute? Mr. Werner here has lost his way and is wondering around without proper authorization. Would you be able to reunite him with his group from Brown and Reynolds?"

Before Steve Werner could say one word, agent Davis was steering him down the hallway toward the front entrance. Margaret watched him for a minute as he was hustled away.

"You okay?" Sam asked gingerly. She seemed startled by his question and looked away without an answer. He was uncertain what to do with her silence and so he stood patiently beside her.

"Leo wanted us in his office ten minutes ago," she announced suddenly and took off toward her boss' office. Sam took a moment to register confusion and then obediently followed.

Chapter 3

Sam bounded into Leo's office ready to celebrate their victory over the cigarettes. Inside he found a surprisingly somber tone. Josh and Toby were seated on opposites of the room with profoundly sullen looks on their faces. CJ was casually seated near Leo's desk between them.

"What's going on? Where's Leo?" he queried the occupants.

"Fitzwallace needed a few minutes of Leo's time. He'll be right in," reported CJ for the group.

"Why's everybody looking so glum?"

"We're not glum," CJ clarified. "We just need Leo here before we talk about the meeting."

"Most idiotic thing I've ever heard," grumbled Josh from his corner.

"Well, I'm not going to repeat the same information 50 different times," complained Toby from his corner.

"We've been over this already," she said sharply. "We're waiting for Leo." They both returned to their sulking. Sam sat down quietly next to CJ unwilling to disturb the structure she was maintaining. They all continued their impatient game of waiting.

"They are in an adult version of time-out right now," she informed Sam breaking the silence after a minute.

"CJ!" Josh and Toby complained in unison.

"If they only knew how to conduct themselves like the important men that they are, I wouldn't have to resort to such measures," she continued. Sam wished she were not using him as her audience for this lecture. He was pretty sure he didn't want to get pulled into this particular situation.

"All right, people." Leo stopped short at the door and listened. The silence seemed to satisfy him. " Finally I get to enter a meeting where you're not trying to destroy one another. CJ, I would imagine that I have you to thank for that," said Leo. He flashed a smile at her and then dropped into this chair. "That must have been some meeting. I ran into the CEO of Brown and Reynolds out there, what's his name?" Leo looked around for help and Sam supplied the answer. "Edgar Tolliver? Thanks Sam. Boy, did Tolliver have a sour look on his face or what? You guys didn't declare a ban on cigarette sales now, did you?"

"Leo, it was amazing," Sam began. "We had 'em on the ropes. They are never going to think about the Bartlet administration in the same way again.

"What did you guys do?" asked Josh trying to disguise the apprehension in his voice.

"We put them in their place, Josh. You guys should have seen Toby. He was a pit bull in there," Sam returned excitedly. Every eye in the room was on Toby now. He had sat quietly through Sam's enthusiastic introduction. He knew they counted on him to tell the actual story.

"They have had too many years of smug. They came in today with a little too much confidence. Had too many reasons why they couldn't work with us on educating the American people on the dangers of tobacco. I had to pull out the big guns," Toby explained.

"You had big guns?" Leo asked in confusion.

"Yeah," Toby sighed. "I met with the President yesterday morning with a few ideas. He gave me the go ahead to use them if necessary."

"What ideas?" Leo challenged.

"I told them that if they didn't come forth with full disclosure, tightened federal regulations, and $10 billion in risk education, we were going to move ahead with a little show we have planned," Toby said to a hushed room.

"Spill the whole thing," Leo directed him.

"I told them that we were going to have some hearings in December. We're going to call the hearings, "Stories of Tobacco Orphans." We're going to put kids on and have them talk about losing their mother or father to tobacco-related illnesses. I told them we would do this for a full month with all of the media coverage we could get. And then we would move on to hearings called "Dying Young." These hearings would feature young people with serious asthma who are in the grips of a nicotine addiction and how this threatens their already precarious health. I told them that by the end of these hearings, the tobacco industry will be vilified to an extent not seen since Hitler burned in his bunker."

"Did the President instruct you not to talk about this with any other member of the senior staff?" Leo asked dangerously.

"Leo, you know the President says that one of our biggest failings as an administration is that we talk too much and we think too hard about issues."

Toby did not back away from Leo's glare.

"Last year, the tobacco industry was sued regarding charges that their advertising focuses on children. The evidence was overwhelming. The plaintiffs were awarded $5 billion and the tobacco industry was warned against further advertising. In the first six months this year, that same industry spent almost twice the money on ads that again appear to be aimed at kids," Toby informed his colleagues. "43% of this nation's adolescents smoke or chew tobacco. This number is triple what it was thirty years ago. 500,000 people in this country will die this year from tobacco related illness. 200 million children around the world will die an untimely death as a result of the nicotine addictions they are developing today. And with all of that, it is still one of the most unregulated industries in the country. It was time to stop talking about it and to start doing something."

"What happens in two days?" Leo asked in a low voice.

"They agree to all of our demands or we move forward and put on a soap opera this country will not soon forget," Toby responded.

"Josh is right about retribution. They will find a way to hurt us," Leo advised.

"Yeah, I suppose they will, but I figured that taking chances like this is why they put us in the White House in the first place," Toby returned with defiance.

"Okay, we are all going to have to be careful from now on. Any threats, any blackmail, anything funny or weird, and you are in my office. Do you understand?" Leo addressed the entire room.

"Uh, there was a thing," started Sam with an uncomfortable look.

"What?" Leo demanded.

"One of the Brown and Reynolds guys was talking to Margaret after the meeting. It looked weird to me. He grabbed her arm at one point, and she really got upset. She'll probably tell you all about it, herself," he finished.

"Thanks Sam. I want to hear about everything that is out of place while we are dealing with these guys," Leo gave them all an intense look and marched out of his office.

"Am I in the doghouse right now?" mumbled Toby.

"Did the President tell you not to talk to anyone about this plan?" queried Josh.

"Yeah."

"Then unfortunately, we have no real reason to ostracize you," he returned bitterly. He got up and followed Leo out the door.

"Sam?"

"I didn't even know that you had planned that little surprise with the President. But then I'm used to being in the dark. Why should this be any different?" he said with more anger in his voice than he wanted to admit.

"CJ?"

"You know, Toby, it's not that you kept us in the dark. Those were the President's orders. It's that all of us know in our hearts that you agreed with, and probably even encouraged, those orders. That's the thing about you. It's so much easier for you to be secretive than it is for you to be forthcoming. It might be a great thing for you, but it's exhausting for the rest of us," she said angrily. She got up out of her chair and gave him one more look. "Especially those of us who try to get close to you.

"CJ?"

"You made me believe that nothing was going to happen in there?"

"CJ, I was trying to protect you from worrying about something you had no control over," he pleaded. "You can understand that, can't you?"

"We'll talk later," she said with a tired voice. With that, she walked out of the room with Sam behind her.

Toby sat alone in the room illuminated only by the light of the afternoon sun. He closed his eyes and tried to drink in the calm of a fall afternoon. Toby knew this was only the beginning of a long battle. He hoped that somehow, he would find a way to protect everything he held so preciously in life.

"Leo! It is so good to see you," said Abbey happily as he entered the residence. "You don't come up to visit nearly enough." She pulled him down into the sofa with her and then leaned over, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. He smiled back at her. Abbey Bartlet could pack more genuine warmth into a single gesture than any other person he had ever known.

She took his hands in hers and looked at her old friend. At she gazed at him, her smile began to fade. "You're here because you're mad about something, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes."

Leo gave her a knowing smile. In addition to be warm, she was terribly perceptive. He had known her for too long to pretend it was anything other than what it was. "I have a bone to pick with your old man, Abbey."

She shook her head in sympathy. "Leo, he can be so maddening sometimes. I hope you give him a good earful. Let me know if I can help. I have a long list of consequences that I can administer on your behalf."

He smiled at her. He wished that it could be as simple as a good scolding, but he suspected that this issue was far beyond that point.

"Another man wouldn't know what to make of a handsome devil like yourself curled up all cozy with his wife," came a strong voice from the door. Jed Bartlet came into the room and smiled at his wife and friend. Leo tried to return with a stinging retort of his own, but his heart and his mind were too heavy. Abbey noticed his solemnity and gave his hand a supportive squeeze.

"Jed, you have done something to this good man," she scolded. "Now, whatever it is, it's time for you to sit down and take your punishment." With that, she stood up to leave. She stopped at her husband's chair and kissed him lightly on the head. Then she was gone.

"Do you know why I'm here?" Leo asked.

"Well, I am hoping that you are going to let me know how the meeting with the cigarettes went," he returned.

"I'd say it went pretty much as expected. Toby pulled some rabbits out of his bag of tricks. Sam thinks we have them on the run. And Josh thinks they will destroy all of us. Personally, I don't have an opinion because I am so far out of the loop," Leo responded bitterly.

"Did Toby explain why I wanted it this way?"

"Yeah, he tried, but it all sounded like a bunch of crap to me," Leo retorted.

"I don't want sit around thinking up strategies for these guys, Leo. I wanted to hit hard 'em and low without any more conversation about how they might hit back," Jed said darkly.

"Sounds great, Rocky. You sound like a regular hero. But tell me, who I am in your little movie? Am I the meek girlfriend, Adrian or am I the weak brother-in-law, Paulie? Huh? I must be one of those two 'cause I know I'm not the guy who stands behind you at the ring," Leo said angrily.

"Leo…" Jed began.

"Is this how it's going to be?" Leo interrupted. "You make an end run around me whenever there is anything big going on. Because if that's how it is, let me know now. I'll find something else to do. I do not plan on being a figurehead in this administration."

"Leo, would you shut up for a minute?" Jed thundered at his Chief of Staff.

Leo stopped talking, but his face lost none of its intensity.

"Leo, I did it because they needed a swift kick in the butt, and if we thought about it too hard we would have never done it. I used Toby because he feels the same way. I know Josh is too wrapped up in what history he's had with the cigarettes already. He's no good for this thing. And you, I don't know. Bernie Hanson was a close friend of yours."

"Bernie was a close friend. So what? Were you were trying to protect me?" Leo shot. "Or you didn't think I'd have the stomach to fight them after what they did to Bernie?"

"Neither or both. I really don't know. You just have too much history there. It's impossible to have a conversation about cigarettes without you becoming apoplectic," returned Jed.

"Oh God, Jed. You weren't there. You have no idea. Neither you nor Toby has been up against these guys. And you're right. I try not to talk about it. It was a bad time. For months, Josh and I searched for Bernie's documents. We both thought we were being followed," Leo shook his head at the memory of it and continued. "Josh had the worst of it. He was more public about his suspicions. His apartment was broken into twice. And you know, I think they would have done more if it hadn't become abundantly clear that Josh had no idea where Bernie put those damn documents."

"You believe that there were documents?"

"Yesterday, I told the staff that I didn't think they existed," Leo admitted.

"But?"

"Are you kidding? Of course, Bernie had documents. He would never have done as much arm flapping in committee if he didn't have them," Leo said with conviction.

"Leo, it doesn't matter if they had put the gun to his head and fired it themselves. We have to move forward with this. We can't let them bully this government and its people," Jed said solemnly.

"I know that, Jed," Leo answered softly. He got up off the sofa and faced his President. "I just wish you had enough faith in me to understand that I know that."

With that, he turned and walked out of the residence. Jed wanted to stop him, order him back into the room, but he knew better. Leo was right. He had made an end run around Leo. He had done it because he thought Leo and Josh were too messed up about Bernie to be any good for this. He had also done it because it was easier not to have to deal with them on this issue. There was a good chance they could have talked him out of it.

Jed made himself a promise when he was elected. He promised that he would never second-guess himself after having made a decision. There were going to be too many of them as president and they weren't all going to be the right ones. He needed to always be moving forward in order to be effective.

Tonight as he went over Leo's words, he broke that promise.

Toby tried to lie quietly. He could see the lights of the Washington Monument out of the bedroom window. He watched as the blinking lights of planes slowly passed over the monument. He wondered about those planes and the people they held. Where were they going? What part did they play in this world? Were they happy? Did they lie awake nights as he did?

He doubted that sleep would visit him on this night. There were too many thoughts and ideas swirling around in his over active brain. Despite his restlessness, he didn't get up out of the bed. He didn't want to disturb CJ. She was a terribly light sleeper, and there was no reason why one of them shouldn't be well rested.

She had surprised him this evening. He had come home expecting her to want to talk about his enigmatic approach to life, and how it affected the relationships important to him. He had, in fact, steeled himself for such a conversation.

But it was not what occurred. She did come over, as usual, but said nothing about the anger and disappointment she had expressed earlier in the day. Instead, she brought her work with her, and had largely ignored him throughout the course of the evening.

For all of his skills as a communicator, Toby could think of no successful way to broach the subject with her. And so he sat impatiently at his kitchen table ruining several drafts of the President's upcoming address to the American Medical Association while CJ worked blithely across the room on Wednesday's briefing copy.

When she was finally finished for the evening, she went over to where he was and sat in the chair next to him. She looked at him for a long, hard minute. He waited for her to start the conversation that might help him to explain how he felt and what he needed, but she merely leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she got up and went to bed. There had been a certain sadness to it. Or had it been a kind of resignation? Whichever it had been, Toby felt it deep inside of himself.

He couldn't forget how he felt in that moment as he lay in the bed beside her. For an instant, it was clear to him what was going on in her head, perhaps even more clear to him than it was to CJ herself. She would have to decide if she could accept who he was and always would be. Would it be too great a compromise for herself to be with someone who lived so deeply within himself? Would the pieces of his self that he could offer be enough for her?

It would be easy to say that he would do anything to keep this woman happy. She was worth any sacrifice he could make. This was all true. But the reality of actually doing it was far more complex than the theory of talking about it. It will go against my nature and, despite my best efforts, I will fail her, he thought bitterly to himself. Did she have any idea what she meant to him? Had he never found a way to express the depth of his love for her?

As he lay there pondering these questions, the phone exploded into a ring on the night table across the bed. He jumped up, trying to reach across CJ to grab it. But CJ Cregg was Press Secretary to the most important man in the world. Instinctively, her long arm had shot out from under a blanket and had captured the phone before the first ring was finished. The arm pulled the phone to an ear somewhere under hair and blankets.

He heard some indistinct mumbling and then her head shot up from the depths of the warm bed.

"Sam, is that you?" she asked sleepily. "What's wrong with you?…Yes, he's here….Are you okay?….All right. All right! Hang on. He's right here."

She sat and handed Toby the phone. There was something about Sam's voice that had frightened all of the sleep from her.

"Sam, what's going on?" Toby asked with irritation into the phone. "What?… Do you know what time it is? And, do you realize that you have to be on the Hill tomorrow scaring Congressmen?…Okay? Okay?…When? Are you hurt?…All right, no more questions…Twenty minutes, Sam…Okay."

"What happened?" she asked apprehensively.

"I don't know. Something about him getting drunk and passing out and not knowing where he was," said Toby as he pulled clothes out of his closet.

"I am going with you," CJ decided impulsively. She jumped out of bed.

"No!" he returned sharply. She was stopped short by his response. Her surprise at the vehemence of it was quickly turning to anger.

Seeing this, Toby quickly clarified himself. "Sam was clear on that point. He wants me to come alone."

"What's going on!" she demanded.

"I really don't know," he said defensively. "I am not trying to be evasive or enigmatic or anything."

She threw her clothes onto the floor and sat on the bed.

"Is it always going to be like this, Toby? Am I always going to resent what you can't and sometimes won't tell me?" she said in frustration.

For a minute, he stood there silently with his shirt still unbuttoned. "I don't know," he returned softly. "I don't know."

She could see the struggle on his face. Part of her knew that she should reach out and tell him that they would figure this out together, but as often happens in relationships, she felt too burdened by her own struggle. Instead she turned away from him and crawled back under the covers.

"I will call you as soon as I know something," he said earnestly. She didn't move. He hesitated for one more second, and then realized that he had neither the time nor the words to make this right. He softly said, "I love you," and then ran out the door.

Chapter 4

Sam paced back and forth the length of his apartment lobby. His clothes hung on him rumpled and loose. He had tried unsuccessfully to calm himself, but in his heart he felt that something bad was happening and he had no handle on what exactly it was. Sam Seaborn, the guy who had placed first academically in every class he had ever been in, could not put together any kind of a lucid picture of the last eight hours in his life.

There was the bathroom to think about, but he couldn't do it just yet. It was too much. He needed some sense of memory before he could reason about the bathroom.

Every few minutes, he attempted to clear his head and remember the events of the evening, but he couldn't organize those thoughts. Everything was hazy and confused. He remembered moments of time, flashes of cognition, but he couldn't connect them together and form anything coherent. The snapshots of time that he was receiving resembled nothing that made any sense to him. A dark and terrible dread had settled itself deep within him. It seemed to be competing with his lungs for the oxygen he needed to breathe.

A dark figure hunched over against the cold of late October appeared on the sidewalk in front of his building. Sam rushed to open the door. He pulled Toby Ziegler into the lobby.

"It felt like you were taking forever," he blurted out.

Toby was taken back by the near panic showing in Sam's eyes. "What's going on here, Princeton?" He spoke softly, but firmly, hoping to impose some of the control he saw lacking on Sam's face.

"Toby, I can't remember anything about this evening. I went out to dinner with some people. I remember that. And then poof! I wake up on my couch, and it's 1:30 a.m." Sam said. He had already pulled Toby into the elevator.

"Sam, did you do any drinking?" Toby asked slowly. He allowed himself to be herded around by Sam.

"Jesus, Toby! Would I call you in the middle of the night like this if I was having a hangover?" Sam exploded.

Toby didn't blink. "Were you drinking, Sam?"

Sam could see by the look on Toby's face that they were going to do this his way. "I had a couple of beers, I think. I really don't remember. Toby, please know that this is not about drinking."

The elevator stopped and Sam jumped out into the hallway. Toby trotted after him as he headed for his door. Once inside, Sam began to pace his living room. Toby found a spot on the couch and resisted the urge to tell Sam to be still.

"Sam, who are these people you were out with tonight?" He began again.

"I don't know. People from law school, I guess," he returned never interrupting one step of his pacing.

"What the hell do you mean, "you don't know?" Leo said that now is not the time to do anything but the familiar. Do you remember that, Sam?" Toby accused.

"I know them a little. We went to school together. Well, I did with him anyway," Sam explained cryptically. He tried to organize his thoughts. "This guy, I didn't know him well, John Thyer. He was a year behind me in law school. He shows up today. Says that he was appointed as assistant legal counsel to the armed services committee. He seemed really excited. I didn't know him well, but I thought I could be happy for him." Sam took a breath and then continued. "He wanted to celebrate. Wanted me to come with him and his fiancée. I tried to get out of it, but he was so excited. She was too. They seemed very nice. They…I don't know. Before I knew it, I was getting in a cab with them and we were headed to some restaurant on Wyoming St."

"What's the last you remember?"

"I have little pieces of things, but I can't put it together. We drank, but only a little. Then it gets foggy and jumbled. That's all I know," he said frantically.

"You need to calm down, Sam. This is probably a whole bunch of nothing. Maybe they slipped you something, maybe not. But the fact is that you are okay," Toby assured him.

"God, Toby. I wish that were a possibility," he said with meaning.

"Sam?" Toby could sense that there was another shoe waiting to drop.

"Look in my bathroom," Sam said quietly. Toby could tell that this was the source of Sam's panic. With some trepidation, he entered the bathroom. As with everything in Sam's life, the bathroom's contents were all in their expected places. That is except for the contents on his counter. Toby picked up a shirt that was left in a heap. There were stains, dark red and still wet. As he lifted the shirt, a matchbox and a room key fell out, bouncing off the counter and onto the floor.

"What's on your shirt?" Toby asked apprehensively as he surveyed the deep red spatters that littered the white dress shirt front.

"What does it look like, Toby?" Sam shot at him.

"We can't know for sure that this is blood. Not by just looking at it anyway," Toby said slowly.

Sam ignored Toby's efforts to placate him. "Look at the matchbook. It's the Amsterdam hotel on Grand Ave. I wouldn't be caught dead in that neighborhood, Toby. To even use the gas station in that neighborhood…it's like begging for a tabloid headline. And a room key, for Chris'sakes, Toby. What the hell went on tonight?"

"Sam, you need to get a hold of yourself," Toby instructed.

"Stop it, Toby. Don't talk to me like you know what's going on here," Sam shouted angrily. "You don't have a pat explanation for this. There isn't one."

Toby reached down and picked up the matchbook and the room key from the floor. "What time is it?" he asked.

"2:30."

"Sam, I'm going go and check this out, okay."

"I'm going with you," Sam said.

"No Sam, we don't take any chances. Let me go. I'll see if there is anything to see and then I'll call you, okay," Toby spoke slowly and firmly trying to mask the apprehension that was building within himself.

"Toby!"

"I mean it, Sam," Toby returned in a low voice. "I am going to go and find out if this key and matchbook mean anything. For you to come along would be pure folly. You need to stay here and concentrate on your memory. Have some coffee. Lay the couch. Relax! See if that helps. Oh, and put this shirt in a plastic bag, but don't touch it with your hands." Toby knew that the best thing he could offer Sam right now was some direction, no matter how meaningless it might be.

Sam looked exhausted and defeated. Toby put a hand on his shoulder and steered him into the kitchen. "Sam, I will call the minute I am done checking this out. We don't have to think the worst. This could be some sick joke that your classmate orchestrated. In any case, let's save our drama for after we know the facts. Okay?" Sam nodded reluctantly and disappeared into the kitchen.

Toby looked down at the two items in his hand. He knew in his heart that this was going to turn out to be no prank. Searching himself for the courage he would need for the task ahead, Toby headed out into the night.

He stood outside in the dark, dirty hallway before trying the room key. For a while, he had convinced himself that he should formulate a plan before entering the room. Then he had argued with himself about whether he should knock or just let himself in. Finally he realized that he was just forestalling what he and Sam needed to know, good or bad.

Thus far, his foray into the world of political intrigue had been uneventful. No one had recognized him thus far. This was no surprise to Toby. He found that his dark beard offered a sort of anonymity. He hoped that the next step of his adventure would prove to be equally uninteresting.

The key slid easily into the lock and he entered apprehensively. The room was dark, the only light coming from the bathroom. In the shadows, he could see the wildly rumpled bed. There was a sweet, pungent smell that hit him as he walked in the room. He looked around anxiously to see if he could spot anything in the shadows, but the room was still.

Toby stood for a minute in the dark shadows and then approached the bed. There was a shape, a mound that suggested that someone was there. Toby's breathing was coming in sharp, shallow bursts. He gripped the end of a blanket and tugged violently. The blanket pulled free revealing a young woman lying awkwardly across the bed. Toby gasped as he saw dark stains spreading out from her body.

Toby stood there with the blanket still in his hands, unable to do anything but stare at the horrific sight. He could sense the shock taking hold and he shook his head violently hoping to wake his senses. Then he reached for the phone in his pocket, fumbling with it as he struggled to see the numbers. He was about to put the phone to his ear when yet another surprise revealed itself.

"Put the phone down," came a dry voice from inside the room. Toby whirled around and tried to pinpoint the voice. A bright light ignited from the far corner.

"Put the phone away and sit down," directed the voice.

Toby was unsure what he was facing. Slowly he returned the phone to his jacket and then found a chair next to the bed.

"Who are you?" he asked breathlessly.

"Whoever you want me to be, Mr. Ziegler," returned the voice.

"This girl needs help," Toby pleaded.

"The girl has been beyond help for a few hours now," said the voice dispassionately.

"What happened here? Why did you kill her?"

An amused chuckle answered him. "Why would you think it was me? No one else will."

"This is a set-up, isn't it?" asked Toby still trying to orient himself.

"Call it what you like," returned the low, smooth tones.

"Why did you kill this woman?" Toby asked again vehemently.

"Let me tell you a little story, Mr. Ziegler. It may serve to answer some of your questions," he returned. "There was a young man who was not yet as jaded as his colleagues. It was endearing quality in the world in which he lived, but it wasn't well respected. Because he was good, people felt they could take use that to their advantage. This young man would follow his colleagues blindly into any situation. Loyalty was a virtue for this man. But this young man had no idea the depth of consequence to some of the activities with which his boss involved him. He didn't yet understand that good and evil could be relative terms." Toby began to feel the fear and confusion replace itself with anger. "One night, this young man said yes to people he didn't know well. They took him under the guise of a celebration. Yet they were not forthcoming about everything served to him that night. The young man became highly confused and disoriented. He was open to suggestions of all kinds including an invitation to this very hotel room. A young woman was invited to join the party. She was a young woman of some potential from a family of influence, and yet her life was one of struggle. She was ruled by a need for drugs. They were promised her at this party. Many things happened that night. Pictures were taken. The young woman was given the drugs that were promised. These were very strong drugs. She was not able to control herself. There was a fight and there was a knife. And now she lies dead."

Toby wanted to rush forward and grab hold of whoever sat behind that bright light. He felt a rage born out of powerlessness begin to grow inside him. It was only by the greatest of effort that he was able to stay seated.

"You can't blackmail me," Toby hissed at the light.

"That's what we thought. We were pretty sure that you would fall on your sword if necessary to protect the President. Then we wondered if you would be willing to push Sam onto his sword. That's what we're going to find out tonight, Mr. Ziegler."

"Sam would never be charged or convicted in an atrocious set-up like this," Toby shot back.

"Are you sure? The whole country knows that your young friend has a penchant for high class whores. Do you really think no one will believe that Sam would be here with somebody?"

Toby looked away in the face of the man's logic.

"It is certain to make for some fascinating television. Sam the White House staffer, all squeaky clean, becomes Sam the murderer. There will be enough evidence to leave little doubt in people's minds. I wonder if they will be lenient or if they will make him an example to others. It would be a pity if it became a national issue, but I would imagine that it will be inevitable."

Toby found himself unable to respond. He tried to convince himself that none of these outcomes were possible, but he knew the reality of what was being told to him.

"Now we come to the part where we decide if there is a way out of this mess," the low voice offered. "Are you interested in knowing what that might be?"

Toby sat silently with his head down.

"If you find a way to make Wednesday's meeting with the tobacco companies go belly up, I think we could work something out," the voice soothed.

"Never," croaked Toby.

"Do you prefer the alternative? Are your really ready to offer Sam as the sacrifice for the cause?"

"You'll own me," Toby answered.

"And then we go back to the way things were. Everyone gets to lead their lives again. The status quo is maintained. You, Toby Ziegler, will get go out and find a new dragon to slay. Nothing lost," he reasoned. "Is the choice that hard?"

Toby didn't answer him.

"I can see that you'll need some time. Its…4 a.m. now. You have 7 hours before the cleaning lady comes knocking on the door. I'll let you take some time to think," said the man patiently. The light disappeared and the room fell into darkness again. A moment later, Toby heard the man speaking from the entrance to the room. "If you want to save your young protégé then you will leave this room as it is. If not, then you should call the police. In the event that you choose this, be aware that they will have photos of Sam entering the hotel as well as his finger prints lifted from all major pieces of evidence by the end of the day." Toby could see the door open, briefly letting in the light, and then close, plunging him back into the darkness of the room and of his soul.

"Toby, I haven't heard from you in six hours. It's almost 9 a.m. Leo is screaming bloody murder because no one knows where you are, and I can't even see straight, I'm so crazy," Sam blurted into the cell once he heard Toby's voice.

"It took longer than I thought," came a weary, slow voice.

"What happened?"

"It was nothing really…an attempt by the tobacco folks to discredit you. I got there just in time to put the…screws to those guys," said Toby haltingly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm tired."

"So everything is okay, right?" asked Sam hopefully.

"Yeah, Sam. You're going to be okay in all of this. Don't worry about a thing."

"Wait until I see Leo. He's going to flip," said Sam with the kind of giddiness that comes with relief.

"Don't talk to Leo about this, right now. Do you understand?"

"Okay," replied Sam with some confusion.

There was silence.

"I'm not coming in today," Toby said and then hung up the phone. Sam felt his apprehension returning. He had never encountered a Toby like this before. He tried to concentrate on the relief he felt, but he couldn't shake the strange lilt to Toby's tone. Sam had a feeling that this nightmare was far from over.

Chapter 5

"Hey girlfriend! What's up?" Ginger inquired as she plopped down next to Donna in the White House cafeteria. A second later, Bonnie deposited herself across from the two women.

"The FDA should be informed about what they pass off as lasagna in this so-called cafeteria," she grumbled as she prodded the melted mess in front of her.

"And yet you order it every Tuesday like clockwork," Ginger commented, shaking her head as she watched Bonnie attempt to maneuver the noodles into a more appetizing formation. Donna ignored them. Bonnie and Ginger tended to do a lunchtime Laurel and Hardy routine. Bonnie was a finicky eater who was never happy with the few choices she allowed herself and Ginger, who never meet a meal she couldn't finish, provided ongoing commentary on what she liked to call, "Bonnie's daily food odyssey".

Ginger was about to launch into more helpful observations for Bonnie when she noticed Donna's lunch. "Oh, Bonnie, there is definitely some trouble brewing over there," she said pointing at the food in front of Donna.

Bonnie was happy to focus on anything that took the attention from her own daily drama. "Two strawberry jello parfaits with bananas and NON-dairy whipped topping!" she announced with satisfaction. Surely, this would occupy Ginger for the rest of the noon hour.

"Jello always has been Donna's cry for help," Ginger said thoughtfully.

"You guys!" Donna pleaded.

"Clearly, there is something wrong. I haven't seen two parfaits in front of her since…well, since the time she set Josh up with the French ambassador's daughter, Rene," recounted Bonnie gleefully.

"Who, of course, turned out not to be his daughter at all," remembered an amused Ginger.

"But the ambassador's son was cute, and he seemed more than happy to have a date with Josh," returned Bonnie.

They stopped for a moment to remember all of the lurid details of that particular fiasco. Donna sighed wearily as she waited for this production to conclude.

"You know," added Bonnie after some consideration. "If I recall accurately, that was really a three parfait situation."

"I think you're right," Ginger concurred.

"Are you almost finished?" Donna demanded.

"You know, we are all about helping," Bonnie offered.

"This is a big problem, you guys. The only reason you don't see three parfaits in front of me right now is that the only kind left up front is the lime green stuff with the pineapple," she said scrunching up her face.

"Okay, spill," counseled Ginger.

"I don't know."

"Donna!" Bonnie growled.

"All right! All right! Here is the whole sordid mess. I will be losing quite of bit of Josh's money this weekend and the only way I can think to prevent it is if I find the right man," she blurted out to their immense confusion. They looked at each other for a minute before offering her twin looks of sympathy.

"Donna, my friend, I sense that the kind of help you need would be best provided by trained professionals," Bonnie said gently.

"Don't you worry, girlfriend. We'll visit as often as we can," said Ginger reaching out to pat her on the arm.

"If you don't both stop acting like idiots, I am not going to tell you one thing more," pouted Donna.

"It's just that we marvel at…" Bonnie began.

"Really we are in awe of…" Ginger continued.

"Your ability to top previous hi-jinks with even more colossal calamities," Bonnie finished.

"What am I going to do?" she wailed. "Josh is not one to part easily with a buck. You guys know that."

"From the top, Donnatella," Bonnie instructed.

Donna took some time to outline the situation focusing on the outrage of Betty's outlandish accusations regarding Josh's birthplace and his level of competence in the game of football. In them, she found kindred spirits who understood the need to protect their unsuspecting bosses from the machinations of unscrupulous Hoynes' staff. At the end, she gave another heavy sigh and reached for her long parfait spoon.

"She really said that Josh was from Connecticut? And she said this using the tone that you described?" asked Ginger incredulously.

"And I'll bet he thought it didn't mean anything!" Bonnie predicted with meaning.

"Absolutely. He thought it was the most innocent comment in the world," Donna said shaking her head.

"Our guys can be so naïve sometimes!" Ginger exclaimed. "They just don't understand the subtle undertones of the junior staff."

"Clearly she was casting aspersions on Josh's abilities as an advisor…" Bonnie began.

"…As well as his manhood!" Ginger finished.

Donna winced at this.

"But, honey, I still don't get why you need a man to solve this thing," responded a confused Bonnie.

"I don't know anything about football! And I don't know if I can learn everything I need to know by the time I have to turn in the roster for this fantasy football thing. The best thing, I think, is to find a guy who lives for this stuff and he can do the roster for me," reasoned a distraught Donna.

"Donna, those kind of guys are a dime a dozen. We would have no problem getting one of those guys, but I don't think it's what you need. I have been around for a few of these fantasy football things. Invariably, it is won by someone who doesn't know what the hell they are doing. Two years ago, when I was working at Justice, there was one of those office football pools and one of the women from the steno pool won it. Her "big" strategy throughout the season had been to "pick the guys with the most color coordinated uniforms," Bonnie informed her.

"So your advice to me would be to act as ditzy as possible and hope for the best," returned Donna in frustration.

"Not at all, Donnatella. My advice is to not go with one of those male couch jockeys that we all know and have unfortunately loved at one time or another. Most of these guys have what I would describe as an inflated sense of their own knowledge regarding the game of football," Bonnie offered sagely.

"Is she for real?" Donna asked Ginger.

"I'm afraid she's making sense to me," Ginger admitted.

"I still don't know what to do," she said.

"The three of us will do the roster for this fantasy thing," Ginger informed them.

"None of us know that much about the game," Donna shot back.

"We'll handle this like we would handle any research project," Ginger saw the skeptical look on Donna's face and said, "I'm serious. Do you know any group of people on the entire planet who can pull the big picture together on an issue better or faster than the three of us?" For a minute there was silence as they all considered Ginger's question. Then a smile broke out on Donna's face. Seeing this, Bonnie started to laugh and gave Ginger a high five.

"Do you really think…" Dona began dealing with the last of her doubts.

"Come on!" Bonnie said ignoring the vestiges of anxiety that still clung to Donna. "We have to go map this thing out."

"We're going after Hoynes' office, Donna. Make no mistake!" rallied Ginger.

Having made their proclamations, the two of them each hooked an arm under an elbow, and started pulling Donna down the hall and away from her parfaits.

"Margaret!" he exclaimed as he entered the outer room of his office. Margaret jumped at the surprise in his voice causing her to drop her elbow onto the keyboard of her computer. A quick flurry of numbers erupted and then the screen went blank. Margaret groaned for a minute at the empty monitor thinking about all of the hard work it had just eaten. She then turned to favor her boss with a dark look.

"I didn't expect to find you here," He said in his defense.

"I work for you," she said with a deadpan expression.

"Don't give me that," he growled. "You have been hiding from me since yesterday when I told you I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, well I stopped already," she returned. "There is only so much duck and cover one can do around here."

"And so now you honor me with your presence," he responded sarcastically.

"I seek nothing more in life than to assist you as you manage the affairs of the most important man in the world," she added in a matching tone.

For a moment, they competed for darkest look.

"Can that stuff be retrieved?" he asked in a conciliatory move.

"I have a back-up disc. I'll get most of it back," she admitted.

"Come in to my office. I want to talk to you," he said gruffly and then disappeared inside his door. Margaret looked after him and sighed before getting up to follow.

"Margaret," he said when she was seated beside his desk. "Sam says that one of the cigarette men was talking to you yesterday. He thought you looked upset."

"Yeah," she admitted shortly.

"What was going on? Did it have to do with our meetings with these guys?"

"No, it wasn't about cigarettes."

"Okay," he replied waiting patiently.

"It was personal. I knew the guy from a long time ago," she admitted.

"Tell me about it," he demanded.

"You know, Leo. This has nothing to do with state business. I can assure you of that," she insisted.

"Tell me anyway."

"This is another one of those moments when the lines start to blur between us. Do you see that? Who are you right now? My boss. My father. My friend. Or what?" she delivered defiantly.

"Margaret, don't change the subject," He warned.

"I'm serious, Leo! This is the damnedest working relationship I have ever had with someone. You walk all over my life whenever you choose and I'm supposed to just live with it. I don't get it," she said in frustration.

"Margaret…" he began.

"You have me followed when you don't like who I am dating. You buy me martial arts lessons when you're afraid I can't take care of myself. What's next? Do you have someone doing a background check on the guy in the hallway? Have you got that in motion yet, Leo?"

"I need to know things in order to make sure everything runs smoothly. This tobacco thing is important. I need to know if there is anything that this administration needs to know about your contact with that man," he retorted.

"All right, Leo. Hide behind the administration. That seems to work for you. Pretend that this is all you need in life. Work twenty hours a day. Then go home to an empty hotel room and wait for your wife's divorce papers to come through," she said before she could stop herself.

Leo stared at her in shock. Margaret was struck by its nakedness. She wished she had continued to stay out of circulation.

He turned his head away from her and waited for her to leave. Margaret slowly walked up behind him and spoke quietly. "Not so long ago, I sat in this room and told you about a young man named Steve who had hurt me badly. Yesterday, I ran into him in the hallway of this building. I didn't imagine that anything like that would ever happen to me. I was a bumbling mess. I was an idiot. Finally Sam stepped in. I have no idea what I would have done if he hadn't. I have to figure this out, Leo. And I am not ready to talk with anyone about it. Maybe I'm not as done with this as I thought. I don't know."

Still looking out the window, he nodded slightly. She knew that he sought his privacy now. Without a sound, she turned to leave. At the door, she hesitated. She held onto the doorframe while she considered the wisdom of her next action. Finally she took a deep breath and spoke. "Leo, it's not a crime to want to protect me. Just be clear with yourself about why you feel such a need to do it because I gotta tell you, I am pretty confused by it." With that, she disappeared from his office.

Leo sighed deeply as the door shut gently behind her. He wondered about the same thing she did, but he wasn't sure that he was ready to know.

"Sam, stop! I need to talk to you," CJ pleaded as she hurried after him.

"CJ, I can't right now. I have the farmworkers in the Wilson room. I'll talk to you later," Sam said over his shoulder.

No, you don't," she retorted.

He stopped and turned to look at her.

"They left half an hour ago, Sam," she reported. "Don't worry. Josh sat down with them. It's fine."

He let out a sigh and looked down at the various files he was holding, "I had my meetings plus Toby's. I barely knew who I was talking to all day long."

He looked pale and drawn. CJ knew that he was suffering more than just the effects of a long day. "Let's go to your office and sit down," she advised.

"I have a ton of things to write down right now," he countered.

"Well, it's going to have to wait. I need to talk to you. Besides, you don't really look like you have a clue about what even happened today," she observed.

"Thanks a ton, CJ," he said mustering up a little indignation.

"Come on, big guy. Let's go," she said latching onto his forearm and guiding him into his office. Sam opened the door to his office and was greeted with a surprise on his couch. Josh jumped up from where he was laying and immediately started in. CJ grabbed a front row seat for the proceedings.

"I have been waiting here for half an hour," he accused.

"Well, who told you to do that," Sam retorted.

"I took care of the farmworkers," he offered.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

"Where's Toby?" Josh demanded.

"How the hell should I know?" Sam said defensively.

"You look like shit," Josh observed with interest.

"Thanks," he growled and then found the seat behind his desk.

"Are you two finished exchanging sweet nothings?" CJ said dryly.

"What are you after?" Josh threw in her direction.

"I want to know where Toby is as well."

"Well, I don't know. All I did was speak with him on the phone this morning. He sounded fine then," Sam lied.

"Last night, you called his place in the dead of night as panicked as I've ever heard you. He goes after you and that's the last I've seen of him. So don't give me any crap about how everything is fine," CJ accused.

"What the hell are you both talking about and why don't I know about it?" Josh shouted. CJ threw a briefing memo at him and pantomimed that he should keep his voice down.

"I was not panicked!" Sam defended.

"All right! All right! Clearly we have all established ourselves as the most unpleasant people on this planet right now. Can we get a hold of ourselves long enough to figure out what's going on?" The two of them could see that her question was not really a question. They allowed themselves a moment of silence designed to gather their thoughts.

"Sam, tell us what happened last night," she directed. He shot her a sharp look.

"Screw secrets, Sam! Tell us what the hell went on!" Josh added leaning forward.

"Josh," she warned. He looked at her and then settled back into the couch with his arms folded.

"I don't really know. That's why I called him. I went out to dinner with an old classmate and his fiancée, which I thought was a very innocent thing to do. The next thing I know is I wake up on my living room couch with no idea how I got there. Clearly I was drugged. Toby came over to help me figure it out. There was a matchbook cover in my shirt. He thought it might be from where I had spent the evening," Sam said as he carefully left out the part about the blood stained shirt. "He left to go and see what was going on. I wanted to go with, but he wouldn't let me. The next time I heard from him was this morning when he called. He said that everything was fine and that he was not coming in."

"Did he sound okay?" CJ asked.

"He sounded a little strange," Sam admitted.

"And that didn't mean anything to you," she charged.

"I was hoping he was just tired," he returned weakly.

"Sam, you should have been in my office early this morning with this whole pathetic mess. No, wait. Actually I should have been in your apartment last night standing right next to Toby," Josh said bitterly.

"I know. This is bad," Sam admitted looking at down at his desk.

Ginger popped her head in. "Sam."

"Not now, Ginger," he said never looking up from his desk.

"I just talked to Toby," she said innocently.

His head shot up and everyone leaned forward.

"What line is he on?" Sam yelled.

"He's not on the phone anymore."

"Ginger, I told you that I needed to talk to him…" he began.

"Yes, I know," she interrupted. "But he didn't want to talk to you."

"What did he say?" CJ asked impatiently.

"He wanted to know how everything was going. He wanted to know if all of his meetings were attended. I told him everything I knew. Then he wanted to know where everyone was and I told him that all of you were in Sam's office yelling at him right now. He told me to tell you all to get back to work and to leave Sam alone."

"What else?" Josh demanded.

"Nothing really," she said.

"How did he sound?" Asked CJ.

"Like the swell guy he always is. Since he is taking a sick day, I asked him how he was feeling, and he told me to mind my own business. When I told him you had missed the farmworkers meeting, he suggested that we were all a bunch of idiots. Stuff like that. I'd have to say that he sounded pretty normal to me," she said before shutting the door on them.

"I don't know what to think," CJ said softly.

"Yeah, well, he always pulls this kind of crap, and I, for one, am sick of it," said Josh. He stood up and faced Sam. "You better have a complete report of this fiasco by the morning. We are taking the next half hour Leo has. Oh, and see if you can locate your bearded sidekick. He should be there as well." With that, Josh got up and marched out of the office.

"CJ, it's going to be okay," Sam said trying to assure her and himself in the same breath.

"I'm going to go and see if he's at home," she said getting up. She stopped in front of Sam before she left. She could see something in his eyes, something that mirrored what was happening inside her own self. She felt like Sam was the one person who truly understood that Toby wasn't the kind of person you could casually walk away from. Getting close to him required an investment of one's self and soul. And along with that investment came the fear of one day having it all wrenched away. She knew Sam understood this fear. She could see it in his eyes.

CJ entered the dark apartment slowly. She had hoped that he would be there waiting for her. She had promised herself on the way over that if he was there, she would put aside all of her anger and frustration with him for just this one night. If he was there, she wasn't going to need any words for him, she only wanted to go to him and hold him until the reality of a new day forced itself upon them.

Her disappointment at finding the apartment still and dark settled deep in her stomach alongside the nebulous fear that had been steadily growing within her ever since he had left the apartment the night before. Instead of searching for a light, she stood in the middle of the room and tried to acclimate to the dark shadows. It fit her mood much better than the bright lights of a well-lit room.

From out of the shadows, she noticed the flashing red light of the answering machine. She moved carefully around the dark shape of the coffee table and settled in the couch. She hesitated a moment. It was not her habit to listen to his messages. She worked hard to respect his privacy, but today, she also needed some peace of mind, and she knew no other way to get it. She hit the button and listened as the tape quickly rewound and then played.

"CJ, I hope you are there and listening to this message…I am sorry I'm not there. I wish I could be…I wish I could talk to you and tell you everything…But you're right about me. I am not that kind of man. I guess I am governed by different rules…And right now, those rules have me seeking for answers only from within…CJ, I know you're worried. Part of me is convinced that I can actually feel your worry from where I am sitting right now. I wish I could do something about it. I wish there was a way to guarantee that I wouldn't hurt you...The only thing I know I can promise you now is that I won't lie to you ever again. And because of that promise…I can't be there with you now. I don't know if that makes any sense…It probably doesn't. You should know, Claudia that I am okay and I will be at work tomorrow. After that, I don't what's going to happen. And you should know that you have brought me such joy as I have never felt before or ever hope to feel again. I am so sorry, Claudia Jean…I love you."

The beep that ended the message startled her and she reached over quickly to save it. Then she slowly brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. His words echoed over and over through her head as she sat there quietly on the couch. There would be no sleep for her tonight. She absently stroked her arm as she waited for the night to slowly pass.

Chapter 6

"I think we should go with Isaac Bruce of the St. Louis Cardinals for wide receiver," Donna advised.

"Donna, I told you to make picks from the other list. If you would just use the proper list, you will see that Isaac Bruce has already been picked by Senator Dammon," Bonnie said impatiently.

"What about Joey Galloway? He is a big money player, one of the last on the list," offered Donna as she peered frantically down the correct list.

"What do you think, Ginger?" Bonnie asked.

"Well, he's big money, but I don't like him," she replied critically.

"Me neither. I don't think that right knee is worth a damn," Bonnie concurred.

Yeah, they didn't even have him running wind sprints this week. He spent all of Monday and Tuesday in physical therapy. We'd be buying a lame horse," Ginger added.

Donna looked from one to the other as if she was seeing them for the first time.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Donna asked in frustration.

"Clearly, you are not doing your research," Bonnie accused.

"Well, I am trying to keep up with all of the sheets connected to this arcane labyrinth of a game, and I am even watching ESPN, for god's sakes," she countered.

"Then you will know what everyone else knows and you will lose Josh's money on Sunday," Bonnie informed her.

"Come on, girl. I know you can dig. You, Donnatella, are the legend of title IX. Remember when you found the obscure reference in the rule that allowed the President to double federal contributions to women's sports. These days, that man can catch women's softball almost 24 hours a day. All because of you," said Ginger trying to rally her friend.

"There isn't time to learn all of this stuff," she complained.

"Shoot, I know no more about football now than I did before we started. Sources are the key, Donna. You remember sources, the lifeblood of West Wing communications. You know writers at probably fifty newspapers around the country," said Bonnie.

"Well none of them are sports writers," she retorted.

"You're not using your imagination," Ginger warned. "For instance, have you ever heard of Wayne Chrebet?" She waited for Donna to shake her head. "Okay, well, he is not big money, but he is having a good season with the Jets. Plus he is playing against Kansas City this weekend. The Chiefs have a poor defense, and Wayne went to school in KC. He'll be wanting to prove himself on his old stomping grounds. The stars are all in alignment for this young man. He'd be my pick for wide receiver."

"Ginger, you did that much research on everyone in 24 hours?" Donna replied skeptically.

"Are you kidding? My contact in Houston knows the sports writer for his rag. That sports writer is tickled to be talking to the White House. Then this guy hands me over to his friend, Jim Ehlers, who is the assistant defensive coach for the Oilers. My new friend Ehlers is also beside himself with talking to someone who sees the President every day. Pretty soon, he's telling me all sorts of interesting things including who is going to be having a good week catching balls around the league," Ginger took a breath.

"And just to be safe, I found someone who knew someone who talked to someone who put me in touch with the guy on the medical team for the New York Jets. This guy says that Wayne is loaded for bear. Says he's been running college time hundreds all week. They say he's been catching everything they throw in the air. The guy says he's had hands like magnets all week long. Plus Vinny Testaverde is healthy. This guy says Vinny will be going to the air all day long come Sunday. All of this means showtime for our boy, Wayne," Bonnie added with satisfaction.

"Well you two have really picked up the colorful patois of football speak," Donna observed wryly.

"Girl, we are just trying to protect the honor of the President's senior staff," Bonnie declared.

"I know, and I love you guys for it. I just can't let Josh down. He's going to be so mad at me, and I don't think I can bear the thought," Donna said.

"Boundaries, Donna!" Bonnie warned.

"Don't leave home without them," Ginger added.

"You could use a little work in this area, Donna. You get awfully personal about that funny looking Harvard grad you work for," Bonnie counseled.

"Nothing wrong with his looks," she defended.

"You don't see us fussing over that crabby old Toby Ziegler, do you?" Ginger asked.

"Well…" Donna began with some hesitation.

"No siree. We are arms length kind of people, aren't we, Ginger?" Bonnie reported proudly. Ginger nodded in agreement.

Why just this morning, he comes in all scruffy looking and everything. Says "hi" to us. Gives us those big puppy dog eyes. Says we are the best people he has ever worked with in all of his years in politics. Just the whole nine yards," Bonnie reported.

"We could tell that something big was up. There was no other reason for him to be so darn civil and everything," Ginger added.

"But you don't see us getting all worked up over whatever is going on with him."

"Nope. Our plan is to just leave him be. Let him figure it out," said Ginger.

Donna watched them in silence. They were clearly not looking for any feedback. The conversation seemed to have more of a lecture format to it. She suspected that there was supposed to be some learning in it for her.

"We are not at all worried. Probably has something to do with this cigarette meeting he has this morning," offered Bonnie after a bit of thought.

"Those guys can be rough," Ginger said slowly. "Makes sense that he's a little shaken up today."

Bonnie looked at her for a short minute before slowing adding, "Yeah, he should be fine. There's nothing out there that our guy can't handle."

"I've heard stories about the cancer boys," Ginger said with a distinctly worried look growing on her face.

"You know, maybe we need to be getting back to the bullpen. He might be looking for us," Bonnie said nervously.

"You know he really didn't look good to me today. Very pale, didn't you think so," Ginger fretted.

"Well, he was out sick yesterday."

"I know and we've been sneaking those iron pills in with his morning aspirin the last two weeks now. He should not have been sick at all."

"You're right. Maybe we should tell him the elevator's out so he has to walk the stairs like we did last month. The exercise would be good for him."

"Oh please, Bonnie. He almost had a stroke when he found out what we were up to the last time. Remember all that yelling and screaming about how he'll let his muscles atrophy if he wants to. Said that 'it was his birthright, for God's sakes.'" Ginger said mimicking his tone.

"Well, we're going to have to think of something. We can't just let him waste away like this."

At this point, Bonnie and Ginger had all but forgotten Donna. She watched with some amusement as they started to walk off together intent on an anxious conversation regarding the state of Toby Ziegler's health.

Before they rounded the corner, Donna yelled a 'good-bye' to them.

They turned in surprise, and waved back. Bonnie offered one more bit of advice before they disappeared, "Remember boundaries, Donna. You can learn something by watching us!"

Donna shook her head and wondered what the American Psychological Association would say if they were allowed to test even a sampling of the characters that inhabited the West Wing.

"Toby, we need to talk," CJ said urgently. Her tall, slim figure filled his doorway.

"Oh! I didn't know you were free," he said with some surprise.

"No, in fact, I am not," she replied barely containing her anger. "Right now, I have an office filled with Romanian diplomats. I found them there when I showed up this morning. The interpreter says that they are with me for the entire morning. Says they want to see how we do 'communications' up close. I asked the interpreter how they got referred to me, Toby."

"I did it," he replied.

"I know you did. I just don't know why."

"Because I can't talk to you right now. I can't have the conversation that you need to have. And, frankly, I need you out of the way this morning," he said firmly.

"Toby, you are scaring me so much."

"I know," he had trouble meeting her eyes.

"Please let me help. I can help," she pleaded.

"No," he replied simply.

"Why are you doing this to us?" she had trouble controlling the emotion in her voice.

"CJ, I'm not the man you think I am," he said trying to keep his voice steady.

"I know you!" she replied fiercely.

"Did you know that I'm the kind of man who commits felonies? Did you know that I was the kind of man who is willing to put this whole administration at risk? Did you know those things about me?"

"I don't believe you," she said softly.

"You have Romanians in your office," he said quietly. He kept his eyes steadily on hers.

She stood in the doorway unable to stop the tears from filling her eyes. Neither of them moved for a moment. Toby seemed transfixed by the pain on her face.

"I know that something bad has happened. I have felt it in my gut ever since Sam called two nights ago. I don't know what it is, but it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I am starting to believe it could destroy us all," she said as the tears fell freely down her cheeks. He could feel the fear growing inside her.

"CJ, I did things wrong, and now it's up to me to make them right," he talked so softly that she strained to hear him. "I won't let my mistakes hurt you. I won't do that to you. I can't."

"You already have," she said in a whisper. She was hugging herself tightly as she leaned against his doorframe. He moved toward her a step, and she flinched. He froze. In a moment of shock, he could see the toll taken by his secrets and lies.

"CJ…" he pleaded, but she was gone. He watched from the doorway as she fled the bullpen. "It's the right thing," he repeated over and over in his head like a mantra. Still his heart told a different story.

He was heading back in to grab his stuff for the meeting ahead when he was honored with another visitor. His back stiffened as he heard the angry tones behind him.

"Did you get any of the 17,000 messages I've left for you over the last day and a half?" Josh began as way of greeting. He marched through the bullpen and past Toby into his office.

"Josh, I don't have time," Toby began patiently.

"I know. They are already in the Roosevelt room. You switched up the meeting. It was supposed to be in the afternoon," he accused.

Toby stood silently before him.

"You were supposed to be in Leo's office right now," he challenged.

"I don't have time," Toby repeated.

"Oh, I can see that," Josh said sarcastically.

Toby got quiet again. Josh could sense the immense heaviness within him. It reminded him of burdens that he himself tended to carry. He lowered his head for a minute and tried again.

"I know you, Toby. You're just like me. You're a romantic. You believe in all the fairy tales and everything that goes along with them; honor, glory, chivalry, duty, and all the other crap. You're a regular knight at the round table," Josh took a deep breath and continued, "Toby, there is a problem with guys like you and me. We're not pragmatists. We want to do things like eradicate hunger and establish peace among all peoples. We think that we're strong enough to save the world and to protect it from all that is evil. We don't often look at the reality of a situation. We're idiots that way," he stopped for a minute to see if he was reaching Toby.

"You're up to something," he continued. "The whole wing can feel it. Are you going to try and save the world today, Toby? Are you going to try it all by yourself?"

"The only part where you're right about is that I am an idiot," Toby replied quietly. He turned and gathered up his things. "I gotta go. I'll find you and Leo later."

"Toby, don't do this alone. Let me help. I am ready for a good fight," Josh appealed one last time.

Toby said nothing as he continued to gather up his files.

"Toby, Bernie Hanson was a romantic," Josh said desperately. Toby stopped for a second, his files tucked under his arm. Then he shook his head and turned to leave.

"Talk to you later," he said brushing past Josh and walking out of the bullpen.

He walked purposefully toward the Roosevelt Room not looking over his shoulder to see if Josh was coming after him. He and his files were almost to the room when he heard a voice behind him.

"I can't believe you did this."

Toby turned to see Sam with a frustrated look on his face walking up to him.

"You put me in some useless meeting about pork prices, and then I find out that you rescheduled the cigarettes," he reported, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I don't want you in there," Toby said simply.

"Just try and stop me," Sam countered.

"Sam, you are not going in," Toby's voice was quiet and firm.

"I am not letting you go in alone," Sam said holding his ground.

"I am still the Communications Director of this administration. If I say you are not going in, then you are not going in," Toby said adding a note of ferocity to his tone.

"Don't do this, Toby," Sam pleaded.

"I've been hearing that all day, Sam. And yet, no one has a clue what they are talking about," Toby replied.

"We're in politics, Toby. We rely on our instincts. You're going in there to finish something that started with me. I don't need you to spell that out for me," Sam shot back.

"What I'm doing in there started with me, Sam, not you." Toby met his eyes with this last statement. Then he walked around Sam and opened the door to the Roosevelt room and closed it firmly behind him.

Then he turned to face the five men of tobacco seated on one side of the long conference room. He dispensed with salutations and merely plopped his files down on his side of the table. It took real effort for him to actually sit across from them, but he made it in the interest of getting this done.

No one in the room pretended that the meeting was a friendly one. There was silence while he situated himself among his ever present files and paper. Then he looked up and at the men across from him.

"You're joining us alone today," observed Eamonn Smith, the President of American Tobacco.

Toby ignored his wry observation. "I believe that we are here to further discuss this administration's stand on the danger of tobacco use in this country."

"It should be an interesting conversation especially since you are an active smoker yourself. In fact, I believe that my company makes a cigar of which you are particularly fond," said Smith.

"I think that statement alone will help me far more than any patch in an effort to quit your vile drug," parried Toby.

"Has your administration decided to soften its relationship with us or are we still at the mercy of your fascist leanings?" asked Smith sarcastically.

"I am here to say that this administration needs more time before we can give you a decision," said Toby slowly.

"For what, Ziegler. Two days ago, you wanted to throw us to the dogs. Now you want time to think. Doesn't make much sense," said Smith with none of the curiosity of his words.

"This administration is not ready to finalize a plan. That is what I am here to tell you today," Toby replied firmly.

"We expected a firm response today. This is actually quite disappointing. We were promised a resolution," insisted Smith.

"This requires more thought than we had indicated two days ago. We are not ready," Toby said.

"We may be forced to move forward," said Smith.

"Then do it!" Toby yelled rising out of his seat. "I can't have a decision ready for you today." He settled back into his chair and hoped that that his bluff would hold.

"We expected better from you."

"I don't care. I…we need more time."

"Is this room bugged?"

"How the hell should I know? Do you think they would tell a dubious character like myself?" Toby shot at him.

"This is not what we expected," Smith concluded. Toby noticed that a couple of the younger associates wore slightly confused expressions. He suspected that some of the dirtiest dealings were kept secret from the junior associates.

"Do what you have to do. I am not ready to say anything more on the President's behalf," said Toby doing his best to present a confident front.

There was silence while both sides of the table warily regarded one another.

The silence was finally broken. "One week," Smith grumbled.

"I need more time," Toby replied.

"One week is all. Then we move forward with what we know," Smith said firmly.

Toby surveyed his opponents carefully for a minute. His gut was telling him that he had gone as far as he could with these guys. Finally he took a breath and said, "My people will talk to yours. We will meet back here in exactly one week."

Smith nodded at him. Then he gestured to his associates. Collectively they gathered up their things and exited the room.

Toby closed his eyes for a minute and let his body momentarily relax into his chair. He let out some of the anxiety that had been building in him all day. He prayed that for five minutes no one would enter the room. He needed those few minutes of solitude. It felt like the whole world was mad at him right now, both the good guys and the bad. Walking the tightrope between those two groups was beginning to seriously threaten his sanity. He hoped that he could hold it together long enough to save Sam and protect the administration.

Chapter 7

"Sam, what the hell is going on?" Josh demanded as he approached Sam in the underground parking garage of the White House.

"I needed some place private," Sam said absently. He looked as pale as he had yesterday morning. There was a newspaper on the ground next to him. He kept glancing at it with apprehension.

"You know, you and your crazy boss are really beginning to freak me out," Josh said in irritation.

"I have been trying to tell myself that nothing is going on. I convinced myself that it was over when he called me yesterday and said everything was okay. Did you know he's meeting with the cigarette boys by himself?" Sam asked as he paced up back and forth between the concrete columns.

"Yeah, I did," Josh softened his approach upon noticing the extent to Sam's agitation.

"Everything is not okay, is it?"

"No, something is going on, and Toby is pulling himself in deeper and deeper with each passing hour," Josh replied softly.

"We need to find a way to help," Sam insisted.

"Toby won't let us and it's gotten too big. Leo and the President will be meeting with him as soon as he's done with the cigarettes. If he doesn't fess up soon…" Josh shook his head softly.

"He's in that much trouble?" Sam cried in disbelief.

"There is no room for secrets in this administration. We have no idea what he's up to," Josh justified.

Sam slammed his hand against a concrete wall. The parking garage reverberated with echoes of the sound. He stayed suspended there against the wall for a minute and thought. Finally he spoke to his best friend in a voice akin to a whisper, "I have a secret too."

"Sam?" Josh asked apprehensively.

"I thought it would be trouble to say too much. It might make you accomplices. I was thinking like a lawyer. You know, never volunteer too much and all that."

"What is it, Sam?"

"When I woke up two nights ago, there was more in my apartment than just a matchbook to give me a clue that something was up," he said quietly. He had his face half turned away from Josh's as he spoke.

"I'm listening, Sam," Josh said softly.

"I don't know," Sam hesitated.

"Sam, give me your wallet," Josh ordered. Sam looked at him in confusion. "Give me your damn wallet, Sam!"

Sam pulled out his wallet and handed over to Josh. Josh rifled through it and grabbed a dollar bill. Then he tossed it back to Sam.

"You have just retained me, Sam. I am not obligated to report anything you tell me," he reported.

"You are not a lawyer in this administration. You are the Deputy Chief of Staff. This won't work," Sam argued.

"I am a lawyer and the Deputy Chief of Staff. As far as I'm concerned this concerned this conversation falls under the auspices of client privilege."

I don't know," Sam said warily.

Well, I do. You trust me, don't you?"

Sam stood silently staring at the ground for some time before responding, and when he did, he left no doubt as to his trust. "There was a bloody shirt in my apartment when I woke up. It was my shirt, the one I had been wearing that evening."

"Whose blood?" Josh asked breathlessly.

Sam shook his head silently.

"You still have it?"

"Yeah."

"They were trying to scare you. It could have been anything," Josh reasoned.

Sam ignored Josh's optimism. "The matchbook cover was from the Hotel Amsterdam."

"Not a great address, Sam," Josh admitted.

Sam leaned over and carefully picked up the newspaper from the ground. He handed it to Josh and pointed to a story on the inside of the metro section. "I read this an hour ago."

Josh looked at the article. It told of a young woman murdered at the Hotel Amsterdam early Tuesday morning. He read it carefully looking for any information that could give him some peace of mind. None of it did. The article indicated that the police had only one lead. A cleaning lady reported seeing a dark, balding, bearded man in an expensive suit exit the room at 6:45 a.m. that morning."

"Josh, are they capable of this?" Sam asked.

Josh ignored his question. "Toby went to the hotel that night, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"And he told you what?"

"He called me the next morning and said that everything was okay. He told me not to worry."

"And then what?" Josh asked and then answered his own question. "He stayed as far away from everyone as he possibly could and decided to deal with the cigarettes himself."

"Yeah."

Josh began to do some pacing of his own. After a minute, he stopped and looked at Sam, saying slowly, "I think Toby made a deal with the devil,"

"No way, Josh. He wouldn't do something like that for love or money or even for his life," Sam protested.

"Yeah, but would he do it to save your skin?" Josh said looking Sam in the eye.

"I can't believe it," Sam said shaking his head furiously.

"Knowing Toby as I do, he is probably trying to protect you and the administration all at the same time," Josh said with some certainty.

"We gotta tell, Leo."

"No!" Josh said instinctively.

"Don't protect me, Josh. This is too big. We can't keep this a secret."

"Sam, we're contaminated. Each person that knows after this will likewise be contaminated. We can't let this get near the President."

"Josh…"

"It doesn't matter if he hands you straight over to the authorities. He would be infected. He would become a part of this," Josh hissed fervently.

"We don't tell Leo?" Sam asked in confusion.

"I don't know, Sam. We're going to have to take some time to think about that."

"How about CJ?" he asked with some hesitation.

"Neither of us really wants to go there, Sam. CJ doesn't do jugular all that well. We'd be only doing it because she's a peer and an equal. Right now, I see no reason why she should get dragged into this."

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Is the shirt still in your apartment?"

"Yeah."

"God in heaven above!" Josh invoked.

"I didn't think I needed to hide it."

"Sam, you get over there right now. We need to do something about that shirt. I'll meet you there. Then we're gonna track down Toby. He's gonna get some help whether he wants it or not." With that, Josh turned and headed out of the garage, leaving Sam standing there alone next to his newspaper.

"Where's Toby?" CJ asked as she entered the bullpen.

Ginger looked at Bonnie and then said. "He's in with the President."

"Did he take either one of you into his meeting with the tobacco companies?"

They both shook their heads slowly. CJ knew that Toby would not make either one of them his confidante for whatever was going on, but she also knew the powers of deduction employed by any first rate junior staff. She gestured to them and headed into Toby's office. They gave each other a look and then followed her in, closing the door behind them.

"Do you know anything? I'm really worried about him. I think something big is up," she began.

"Toby doesn't like it when we get nosy," Ginger responded weakly.

"Come on, you work for Mr. Enigma. Are you saying that you never employ a little detective work to figure out what's going on?" CJ urged.

She could see their discomfort. "He doesn't ever know where it comes from. And I wouldn't ask if I wasn't so worried about him.

Bonnie stepped forward. "We don't know that much, CJ, but we'll give you everything."

"Okay," CJ said with relief.

"We know he's really scared about something…" Bonnie began.

"He gets really soft-spoken," Ginger finished.

"Whenever he gets this way, it's time to really pay attention," Bonnie explained.

"Before he went in to see the President, he was in his office reading the Post. He saw something in there that really upset him. We could tell from out here. Then he came out and wanted to know where Sam's copy was. When we gave it to him, he threw it away. Then he took off," Ginger told.

"Sam comes in later and within a few minutes he wants to know where is his copy of the Post. We played dumb. He went out into the hallway and apparently took someone else's copy. Then he goes to his office and starts to read the thing. He stops when he gets to the metro section. I found some reports to take in there, and saw that he was reading something on the upper left part of page 3," Bonnie added.

"He stared at that page for probably thirty minutes. Then he called Josh and ran out of here. He came back twenty minutes ago, grabbed his coat, and said he'd be gone for the day."

"I need a copy of the Post," CJ said.

"A lot of people had their copy stolen today," reported Bonnie producing yet another copy from a drawer in her desk. She handed CJ the metro section with a story circled on the upper left quadrant of page 3. CJ perched her glasses on her nose and started to read.

"At first, we thought it was his friend Laurie, you remember her, the prostitute lawyer friend of his," Ginger offered.

"But the description doesn't fit. Besides Sam says that she is 100% legit these days," continued Bonnie.

"Whatever's going on, it doesn't look good especially when you get to the part about the description of the man leaving the hotel room," Ginger concluded. Bonnie shot her a glare.

CJ was silent for a long time after reading the article. She stood there with her glasses still perched on her nose staring at the newspaper.

"CJ, we know that Toby and Sam didn't do anything wrong. We have a lot of faith in those guys. If Toby is involved in something, it's because he's trying to make it right," said Ginger softly.

CJ began to work her bottom lip in and out as she thought about this. Then she shook her head and focused her attention on the two people in front of her. "Two things. One, you don't talk to anybody about this. Two, anything more you find, you come straight to me, no one else. Is that understood?"

"You got it, CJ," said Bonnie answering for the both of them. CJ nodded. Then she grabbed the metro section of the Post and headed out of the bullpen.

Toby sat on the couch like a kid in the principal's office. Leo and the President had called him into the Oval Office a few minutes previous, and thus far, he was proving to be immovable.

"Toby, I've asked you in just about every way imaginable to tell us what's going on and we are no closer to understanding this than we were before you slinked in here," Leo yelled in exasperation.

"I know," Toby returned miserably.

"Toby, are you doing this to protect me?" Jed Bartlet asked softly. Leo rolled his eyes at Jed's conciliatory tone and went over to fume at the other end of the room.

Toby gave a vague nod before returning his eyes to the carpet in front of him.

"That's admirable, Toby, if a little misguided. I really can't have an administration where my people run around cultivating their own agendas, can I?" Jed reasoned.

"No sir."

"That little stunt that you pulled in the Roosevelt Room was not something that you and I talked about, was it?"

"No sir."

"Because I don't know what the hell is going on here, I have no idea why we would want to hold off a week on the cigarettes, do I?"

"No sir."

"Toby, what are you asking of me here?" Jed inquired.

"That you trust that I have the best interests of the administration at heart," Toby responded weakly. Leo snorted from his spot near the door. Jed shot him a look before returning to Toby.

"I think I'm going to tell you a story,"

"Sir…" Toby began. Behind him, Leo let out an audible groan.

"Excuse me, both of you, am I still the President here? If the building is on fire and I feel like telling you a story then, by God, you'll sit there among the burning embers and listen."

"Ego feeling a little healthy today, Mr. President," Leo shot back.

"Sit down and shut up, Leo," Jed returned before focusing in on Toby who wore the face of a condemned man.

"I'm going to tell you an old family story. Actually it's more of a family secret, and it better damn well stay that way," he began. Leo resisted an urge to assure him that no one could possibly be interested in his old founding father stories. "My grandfather, John Benjamin Bartlet owned a mill in a pretty small town. It was the town's largest employer. Well, my grandfather was a much better dreamer than he was a businessman. He was all heart, but not much on brains. He spent many years mismanaging the business passed on to him from his father. Now, I want you to understand that my granddad was a good man and very hardworking. He put in long hours, but he had no savvy, and he was the kind of guy who tended to give away the store. At some point, he put this woman in charge of the books. She had no real experience, but she was a recent widow and needed a job. Anyway, together the two of them managed to screw up what was left of the business. An audit was done and $50,000 came up missing. My grandfather was at a point of losing the business, and he figured it was all his fault. He started to think about all of those people that were going to laid off all because of him."

He paused for a minute and dared them to comment. They both just returned sullen looks.

"So being the true definition of a Catholic martyr that he was, he decided that other people shouldn't suffer for his mistakes. At some point, he got it into his thick skull that he should use the little savings that he and my grandmother accumulated to pay off the debt. But seeing as it was not going to be quite enough, my addled grandfather used it on the horse races. His intention was to double his money with a few short bets. Well, that strategy worked about as well as you can imagine. So at this point my grandfather had not only ruined the business, he had also decimated his savings with a large family to feed. Do you suppose that we are getting to the part where he wises up and goes for help?"

He looked at Toby who returned a confused shrug.

"My grandfather did not, in fact, take that opportunity to reach out. No, instead, my foolish progenitor let himself get despondent. He convinced himself that he was ruining the lives of every person in the town as well as all of the members of his family. He decided that he was responsible for everything wrong. Once he had accomplished that feat, he remembered that he had a sizable life insurance policy, and somehow, he managed to convince himself that the world was better without him. So then my idiot grandfather plotted his own demise. He decided he was going to drive off into the quarry near our home."

He fixed them with one more look before completing his tale.

"Luckily, he was a terribly absent man. He scheduled his death on a Tuesday, and then forgot to go ahead with it. What he had remembered to do, though, was leave the suicide note for his wife explaining the depth of his ignominy. Once she got a hold of the note, she did three things; she took his keys away, cancelled the life insurance policy, and took over the business. Within two years, the business was solvent again."

"And the parallels to my situation are…" Toby began.

"That you are an idiot just like his grandfather," completed Leo.

"That every time I have looked at you today, I have had to suppress an urge to take your car keys and cancel your life insurance," corrected the President.

"Sir, I can assure you that I have no plans to end my life."

"You have the eyes of a desperate man, Toby. And I am here to tell you that desperate men rarely are able to see more than a few feet ahead of them at any one time. Don't walk around in that kind of a fog, my friend," Jed Bartlet said softly.

"Yes sir," Toby returned.

"Do you need time to think?"

"Yes sir."

"You have 24 hours, Toby. If you can't be forthcoming by then, your time in this administration will have to end," Jed said firmly.

"That's a nice way of saying you'll be fired," added Leo to Jed's consternation.

Toby swallowed hard. "I understand, sir."

"I need you, Toby. Don't disappoint me."

Toby got up slowly showing the immense weight he was bearing. He nodded at both of them and walked to the door. He stopped for a moment, and then turned.

"Your grandfather, sir. What ended up happening to him?"

"He lived a long life. He stayed at home and let my grandmother run the business. In his old age, he took up poetry. I got my love for good literature from him. I'm sorry you never met him. He would have enjoyed discussing the classics with you, Toby," said the President offering him a sad smile.

Toby tried to return the gesture, but he only managed a sort of grimace. As the door closed behind him, Leo looked at Jed. Jed gave him a nod and Leo took off after Toby. He caught him going down the hall to the bullpen. Toby was surprised to find the Chief of Staff jogging after him.

"Leo?"

"I have something to say, Toby," Leo said upon catching him. "You may be more brilliant than I am, but I am a hell of a lot smarter than you are." Toby blinked at the complexity of this logic.

"What I'm saying is that you're probably going to need that. We can still protect him if I know. Think about that," Leo urged.

"Okay."

"You know how to find me, right?"

"Yeah."

Leo reached over and squeezed Toby's arm. Toby gave him a look of gratitude before turning to walk away down the long hallways of the West Wing.

Chapter 8

"I am 100% sure that this is blood," Josh said as he surveyed the shirt that Sam displayed on the coffee table in front of him.

"What the hell, Josh? Are you some kind of forensic pathologist or something? How do you know?" Sam blurted out in frustration.

"I can tell. You can too, Sam. It's time to stop pretending that this is not what it is," he returned bluntly.

Sam closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands.

"We gotta figure out what to do with it," Josh counseled.

"What do you mean?" Sam's head popped back up.

"How to get rid of it?" Josh clarified.

"You mean, destroy it?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I suppose we could burn it and then flush the ashes," Josh hypothesized.

"Josh, you freak! We can't destroy evidence!" Sam yelled.

"It's evidence of a crime you didn't commit, Sam," Josh reasoned.

"I'm pretty sure the law wouldn't see it that way," Sam shot back at him.

"Nevertheless, Sam, you can't just have this thing lying around the apartment while the cancer boys hold all of the cards. The police could be on their way right now."

"Yeah, I suppose that is something to consider."

Sam picked up the shirt and started to put it into the plastic bag again when there was a knock on the door. He jumped at the sound, dropping the shirt and bag to the floor.

"Oh my God!" he howled.

Josh was on his feet immediately. For a second, he gave Sam a wild-eyed look, and then he settled on a plan.

"You gotta hide," he decided.

"It's a one bedroom apartment," Sam attempted to reason.

However Josh wasn't interested in having any type of dialogue at this moment in time. He stuffed the plastic bag into Sam's hands and started to propel him towards the bathroom. It was all Sam could do to stay on his feet as Josh pushed him backwards across the room. Josh aimed him in the general direction of the bathroom and administered a hearty shove. Then he reached over and slammed the bathroom door shut. A distinct thud could be heard from within as Sam made contact with the floor.

The knocking continued incessantly. Josh leaned against the door and prepared to open the door against the chain. His heart was beating hard and fast. I need to be prepared for the worst he thought as he eased open the door.

"Josh, is that you?" came a very familiar voice.

"CJ?" he said in surprise.

"Let me in. I know Sam's in there with you. It sounded like there were a herd of buffalo in there," she informed him.

"CJ, now is not a good time," Josh said as he tried to think of a way to get rid of her.

"I don't have any time for your crap, Joshua. Open up," she insisted.

"CJ," he began again.

"Shut up, Josh. I know that Sam is being framed for a murder," she hissed through the opening in the door.

"How the hell…" he said determined to continue this conversation at the threshold to Sam's apartment. In her frustration, CJ landed a kick on the door. Josh's unsuspecting face was there to stop the momentum of the chained door.

"Owww!!!" he shouted as he jumped away from the door and began to hop around the room holding his face.

"Josh, I'm sorry. Now if you would just open this door, I could take a look at your face, you know, to see if you are okay," she said trying to negotiate a way in.

CJ was looking for a new point of persuasion when the door suddenly swung open. Sam stood in the doorway and motioned her into his apartment. Josh was still holding his face, but he managed to poke one eye through his fingers for the purposes of glaring.

She gave him an apologetic look and then headed toward the kitchen for some ice.

"What the hell were you doing?" Sam had begun to follow around the injured Josh as he continued to prance about the room in pain. "Do you get that law enforcement officials are not the bad guys? This is not Nazi Germany, you know. I, for one, happen to believe in this country's justice system."

One of Josh's eyes emerged again. "Sam, you are aware that there is no Santa Claus, right?"

"Making me a fugitive is not the answer," Sam insisted. CJ appeared with a bag full of ice. She captured Josh and led him over to the couch. Sitting beside him, she positioned the ice pack on his face and motioned for him to hold it.

Sam turned his attention to CJ. "How do you know what's going on? Did Toby tell you?"

"No," she said speaking softly now that she could see the worry on his face. "I just put together what pieces I could find. It didn't take genius to figure this one."

"I think Toby is in the middle of this," he said to her.

"I know."

"They framed me, CJ," he explained.

"I know," she assured him. Her eyes had dropped to the floor beside the couch. There lay a shirt covered with rust colored stains. His eyes followed hers. "Is this part of the set-up?"

"I never got it into the bag, Josh. It lay there the whole time while you hid me in the bathroom with an empty plastic bag. Just shows you what kind of criminals you and I make," said Sam with an ironic chuckle.

Josh heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. "We can't let them win, Sam."

"I agree with you wholeheartedly. Do you think I want to go to jail? I just don't think running is the answer."

"All right. Let's think this through. There's gotta be a plan that makes sense," Josh said.

"Yes there is," CJ began. "You guys are not using the brains the good Lord gave you. I know exactly what we need to do."

"Sam, I just need some time to think. I know we can come up with something," Josh continued. Sam nodded at him.

"Hello! I have an idea!" CJ yelled.

"CJ, we've got this covered," Sam returned with not a little condescension.

"If there was just some way to find out how much the police know," Josh pondered.

"That would be a good place to start. We could also try and make a contact with the tobacco organizations. See if there isn't someone we could shake down," Sam added.

"Sounds good, guys," CJ said nodding her head. "You guys work on your plan and I'll work on mine. How about that?"

Josh gave her a quick nod of assent before turning his full attention to Sam.

"Sam, we don't know any of the cigarettes. Let's stick with the cops for right now."

"Mind if I use my phone?" CJ asked innocently. Sam nodded absently in her direction before continuing his debate with Josh.

CJ hit speed dial on her cell and put it to her ear. In a couple of seconds she had a voice. "Leo, I'm glad I caught you…Where are you?"

Josh and Sam's heads shot around at the sound of Leo's name.

"Actually, I'm sitting in Sam's living room right now…Listen, Leo, you and I both know something is up…No, I don't have all the pieces to this particular puzzle, but I am sitting with two guys that could do a pretty admirable job of putting it together…Yes, Josh is here too…Well, he might be pretty late to the party, but he seems to be in the know…Leo, the thing is this, all of my misguided colleagues are valiantly trying to protect the administration with their secrets. And while you and I can applaud those sentiments, they just seem to be digger themselves in deeper and deeper."

Josh and Sam watched in horror as CJ dropped their hard earned secrets.

"Well that's what I thought, Leo. You should be a part of this discussion…No, Leo, I don't think you should come over here. They have no concept of how to welcome a visitor. Besides, if Josh hears any more knocking, he is liable to try stuffing Sam down the kitchen sink or something…Yes, I know I sound cryptic, Leo. An explanation will follow once they get there…Me? I think I better round up the other loose cannon…Well, not exactly, but I have some ideas where he might be. You want to talk to Josh?…Okay, here he is."

With that, she got up and walked her cell over to Josh and dropped it into his free hand. As he put the phone to his ear, she noticed what a pathetic figure he cut sitting there holding ice on one side of his face and a cell phone on the other especially when one considered the sort of one sided conversation he was about to have. Sam watched Josh for a minute as he absorbed the full extent of Leo's telephonic fury. Then he turned to CJ.

"I can't believe you did that," Sam said bitterly.

"Save it, Sam. You should have done this two days ago," CJ returned in a voice unmoved by his anger.

"CJ, we are trying to figure out a way to protect this administration from them," he justified.

"You have been hanging around Josh and Toby for too long, Sam. You are not some sort of superhero," she said bluntly. "Let me spell it out for you. You are not big enough or smart enough to get this done by yourself. Your attempts to protect us through lies will backfire and we will all suffer the consequences."

"CJ…" he began.

"Don't you understand that they want you to lie. They want you to feel desperate and afraid. They want you to get to a point where you have violated so many of your ethics that you end up in freefall, open to whatever they need you to do."

Sam hung his head.

"You're trying to do the right thing, but you're playing into their hand," she sat next to him and began to gently rub his back.

"I'm your friend, Sam. And I'm here to tell you that we won't sit idly by and let them harm you or Toby or this administration. We will fight them like you know we can. Okay," she said gently into his ear.

He turned his face toward hers and gave her a look of misery. "It's my fault, CJ."

"Don't start that with me, Sam Seaborn. The blame lies with a group of men who sold their souls a long time ago in the pursuit of money and power. Pretending otherwise doesn't help the situation. You understand?"

He nodded for her benefit.

"You going be okay, right. Because I really need to see if I can locate the head clown of this little circus," she said dryly.

Sam managed a small grin. "I'm okay."

"Good. See if you can't convince your partner in crime that I'm not the bad guy here, okay," she said as she gestured at Josh who was still in the midst of a painful conversation with Leo McGarry. Sam wearily nodded his assent as she disappeared out his front door. Then he settled back and waited for Josh to be released from the phone.

"Leo, I just trying to explain what we were thinking…I understand it was flawed…Yes, I have heard that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but I don't see how that applies…No sir, I am not trying to be flippant with you…I'm not sure we were really idiotic…Well, sir, when you put it that way, then I guess the description fits…Yes, I believe we can manage to get to your hotel in one piece…And we will explain everything in minute detail when we get there…Yes sir….Yes sir!…Fifteen minutes…Good-bye, L…" Josh grimaced as the phone clicked loudly in his ear. Sam tossed his jacket to him and headed out the door.

Toby sat with his head lowered and his eyes closed. He had been trying for some time to concentrate on the situation at hand, but the images of his day overwhelmed him. He was inundated by flashes of their faces, of their words, and of the power of their emotions. There was Sam's look of betrayal and Josh's anger. Leo's and the President's words ran over one another again and again in his head, and then there was CJ. He could see her face and her tears as if she were in front of him in this moment. He could feel her anguish burning deep in his gut and he welcomed the physical pain it forced on him.

He had come to his temple for the peace it would offer him as he struggled to make decisions for himself and the people in his life. Instead, the solitude had only served to amplify the images that plagued him. He thought about all the work he had put into protecting people and wondered how it could have all culminated in so much hurt and confusion.

The intensity of the day had wearied him and he dropped his head into his hands. He had been praying to God for focus and clarity, and all his brain had produced thus far was a constant recounting of the destruction he had wrought. He let himself rock gently back and forth as he struggled to separate his pain from his reason. He needed his big brain for the decisions ahead.

He heard footsteps coming up the aisle, but he didn't stir. He knew Rabbi Glassman was in the temple taking care of details before the Sabbath. Toby wasn't bothered by the disturbance of another person in the temple. Rather, he was oddly comforted by his Rabbi's presence. It reminded Toby that goodness and hope were forever present in all situations. He needed that reminder now more than ever before.

Toby continued his frustrated contemplation oblivious to the movement around him. The surprise came when someone settled onto the bench next to him. He became even more surprised when he turned his head to greet his rabbi and found CJ Cregg sitting next to him. He let out a gasp and turned his head away in embarrassment. The strain of last two days was nakedly displayed through the wet cheeks of his face. Her anger with him was overwhelmed by empathy for what she saw. She had to stifle an urge to reach out and put her arms around him. However, all of their time together had taught her to tread carefully around his deepest emotions.

For some time, they sat together quietly while CJ patiently waited for Toby. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and spoke.

"I just wanted you safe," he said still not looking at her.

"I know, Toby."

"If I can do something to keep you from harm, why should anything stop me?" he pondered as he stared straight ahead.

"I understand what you're saying. But you need to understand that I am not some sort of fragile heirloom that you only allow people to view from a distance. I am not that delicate," she returned softly.

"I never meant to…" he began.

"What you did hurt me. You need to know that. You make me feel small like a little girl being hustled up to bed because the adults need to talk about something."

"CJ…" he was stung by her image.

"Don't get logical with me. I'm telling you what happened. It's not open to interpretation," she retorted.

"I'm sorry."

"I know almost everything, Toby. Most of your secrets are no more," she said looking at him for reaction.

Toby let out a mouthful of air.

"I read the article. I put two and two together," she said explaining further.

He said nothing so she continued.

"I found Josh and Sam. Josh, who has clearly watched too much TV drama, was viewing Sam as the next Dr. Richard Kimble. I got there just in time to prevent them from compounding both their lives with further felonies," she recounted this tale dryly hoping to help ease his heaviness.

"And I called Leo," she added. He turned and looked her in the face.

"It's too big for you, Toby. I thought the situation called for a certain Irish street fighter we both know."

Toby stared at the floor for some time. She gave him time to absorb all that she was saying. Finally, he lifted his head and said to her, "Is Leo waiting for us?"

She nodded at him.

"He's not a very patient man," Toby observed.

"Well, I sent Josh and Sam ahead as sort of an…appetizer."

Toby managed a small smile and got up. "Nevertheless, we shouldn't keep our friends waiting. He extended his hand and she accepted. Together, they left Toby's sanctuary and re-entered the world.

Chapter 9

"Part of me is not in the mood to do this with all the craziness going on," Ginger said ambivalently.

"Are they asking our help with even a little part of this?" Donna retorted.

"In fact, they are not," Bonnie said with a tinge of impatience.

"I hate it when I don't know what's going on," Ginger said passionately.

"Well, we know enough to know it's bad," Bonnie said.

"Very bad," Donna added.

"But you know what I really hate. It's when women sit around and wring their hands worrying over a thing they can do nothing about," Bonnie said in frustration.

"We certainly are not wringing our hands," Donna retorted indignantly.

"We are if we stop our project to sit around and worry about this other thing. Can you think of one single thing we can do about this tonight? If you can, then I think there is reason enough for us to shift our focus. Otherwise, I think we should go ahead with the plan. Agreed?" Bonnie demanded.

"I love it when she gets all Toby and everything," Ginger teased.

"Sister, that's a strong black woman that you're hearing," Bonnie replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Donna asked Ginger.

"What, me? Have a nice dinner with a handsome professional football bachelor person from the Redskins? I think I can handle it," Ginger returned.

"Remember now, the deal is this. He's looking for a little advice about politics. Thinks he wants to be "governor or ambassador or something after the pros," said Bonnie using a deep voice to mimic his exact words.

"Of which I know nothing," Ginger said with her hands on her hips.

"He doesn't have to know that. Come now, you have been taught to schmooze with the best of them. Just shine it on, girl," urged Donna with a wink.

"And in return, you need to get him talking about tight ends. He needs to provide a little insight for us. You got it?" Bonnie coached. "We have Shannon Sharpe and Frank Wycheck, but we're not sure which one is going to be the man for this weekend. Our intelligence thus far on this issue has been soft."

Donna nodded in agreement. "Once we have our tight end, we're set. I can hand in the roster to the evil Betty."

"Okay, Ginger, the ball's with you. Now you go out there, girlfriend and you bring us back a tight end," cheered an excited Bonnie. Donna pumped her fist into the air and they all did a little dance around the bullpen.

"The tighter the better," Donna said loudly as she bumped hips with Bonnie.

Donna swung her hip back for another bump with Bonnie and found herself contacting only with the open air. The momentum of the swing sent her stumbling across the room. She finally was able to gain purchase on a desk and pull herself upright. She turned her head to give Bonnie a piece of her mind when she noticed they were standing ramrod straight with their attention on the door to the bullpen.

She likewise straightened her skirt and hurriedly greeted the newcomer. "Good evening, Mrs. Landingham."

"Good evening, girls. Were you having a nice little dance?" Mrs. Landingham said coolly with her glasses perched precariously on her nose.

"Yes, Ma'am," Ginger croaked. Bonnie tried to suppress a wince.

"Makes me wonder if we shouldn't just push the desks and chairs against the wall so you could have more room to jump around," she observed.

"That's not necessary, Ma'am," Bonnie stuttered.

"You're sure? It's seems a shame that the hallowed halls of the most dignified building in our great country has no space for jumping and shouting and making plans to capture tight rear ends. Are you sure you don't want me to take this up with the President?" she inquired dangerously.

"No, Ma'am," Donna assured her. "We are so very sorry for the disturbance. It won't happen again."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now you girls have a nice, safe evening and we'll see you back here in the morning," she said pleasantly to them. They murmured salutations in return and collectively held their breath until she moved on.

Donna let out a mammoth sigh of relief. Bonnie was busy hustling Ginger into her coat. "Now go. Get out of here before General Landingham returns," she said as she straightened Ginger's lapels.

Donna put her face close to Ginger's and whispered. "You know your mission, correct?" Ginger nodded. "Then you go out there and you score us a…tight, tight end, very tight. You hear?" This time Ginger's nod was tortured. Bonnie held onto the sleeve of the coat and desperately tried to suppress the sounds that threatened to burst from her mouth. Donna's face was red and her eyes teary. Finally she buried her head in Ginger's coat and allowed her smothered laughter to explode. Ginger and Bonnie collapsed into each other's arms and let their giggles go. For a moment, they stayed huddled together as the sounds of muffled laughter burst forth.

The phone on Ginger's desk started to ring. They untangled themselves from their hug, and Ginger reached over to grab the phone. Bonnie slapped her hand away and sent her shooing out the door. Then she hurried back and picked up the phone herself. Donna was at the door waving good-bye to Ginger when she noticed the expression changing on Bonnie's face. She watched as Bonnie attempted to handle the caller. She stalled, redirected, denied, and pleaded ignorance for a full ten minutes before the caller loudly hung up. Bonnie turned to Donna with eyes wide.

"That was the police, Donna. They're looking for Toby," she whispered in disbelief.

The scene at Leo's hotel suite was one to behold. Members of his senior staff were sprawled across furniture all over his ample living room. No one sat attentively. It was if the cathartic release of all of the secrets had exhausted everyone. They sat in a companionable silence as if aware that everyone needed time to absorb and process all the information.

Leo had lost his way toward a building rage somewhere in the middle of their story. He found himself moved by their personal willingness to sacrifice themselves for the good of each other and for the administration. He couldn't even berate them for their foolishness as it quickly became clear how much self-loathing that had already been invested. He knew that he was in the presence of good and honorable people who had been pulled into the corrupt world of powerful tobacco. This was a world that lived by its own rules and a warped sense of morality. There would be no easy way out.

He hoped that it was enough to have goodness on their side, but he suspected that more sacrifices would be needed before this was over. And as he looked around the room at them all, he feared that his senior staff would never be the same again. Josh was slumped in an overstuffed armchair looking at Sam who had his head resting on the back of an adjoining sofa. Toby sat on another sofa resting his head in his hand while CJ leaned against him, idly stroking his arm. He knew they deserved better than the trouble ahead for them, and he doubted that there was much he could do to protect them.

He was considering the injustice of this when Josh's cell phone began to ring. Leo looked at him and nodded. Josh grabbed the phone and put it to his ear. Within a minute, he was out of his chair and pacing around the room loudly trying to reason with his caller.

Sam let out a huge sigh and said to the gathered. "I'm really hoping that this is more bad news 'cause I was getting bored over here." Toby shook his head and looked away.

Josh brought his unruly conversation to a close with a promise to call back in five minutes. He dropped the phone to his side and gave his colleagues a weary look.

"What?" Leo said curtly.

"Do you remember Detective Allan Jacobs? He helped us with Donna's situation," Josh queried. Everyone nodded except Toby who merely closed his eyes.

"Well, he was assigned to our homicide over at the Hotel Amsterdam. Anyway, while he is unwilling to reveal the reasons why, he would like to talk to Toby."

"Dammit!" said Sam pulling himself upright.

"Call him back and let him know we'll talk to him tomorrow," Leo advised.

"Well, that would be a good idea, but our friend Jacobs is a little upset right now. It seems that he has been wrestling with Bonnie for the last hour. Says she has been telling him fairy tales. Says that if he doesn't talk to Toby in the next hour, he's going down to the White House and arresting Bonnie as a material witness. Says that he thinks he could charge her with roughly five counts of giving false information and he's playing around with the possibility of throwing in obstruction of justice."

Toby threw up his arms. "God in heaven! Sam, call Bonnie and tell her to stop answering the damn phone." Sam started to fumble around in his clothes for his cell phone.

"Leo, how about I call him back and arrange to meet. Maybe I can find out a little bit more about what's going on," Josh urged.

"No!" Toby directed.

"Toby!" Josh pleaded.

"Shut up, both of you. Josh, you are not going to be meeting with Jacobs on your own. This has been a free for all for far too long. I'm about to turn this into a case study on micro management," Leo growled.

"How do they know about Toby is my question?" Sam inquired. "I'm the one they set up. Why do they want to talk to him?"

"The cancer boys are just trying to rattle Toby some, probably added a little something to spice things up," Josh theorized.

"I don't think so. They would want Toby to know they were pulling the strings. My guess is that somehow the cigarettes didn't cover everything like they said they would," Leo offered.

"Somebody saw Toby leave and recognized him," CJ suggested.

"That would be my guess," Leo agreed.

"Shit!" Sam said, "What are we doing to do?"

"I'll meet with him," Toby said simply.

"Not alone," Leo ordered.

"What does it matter anymore? I'm not going to lie to him. Enough of that has gone on already," Toby said looking Leo in the eyes.

"Let's use our heads, Toby," Leo cautioned.

"I'm tired of this. Let's just do it," Toby retorted.

"Do you trust me?"

Toby raised his eyes to the ceiling and tried to focus his thoughts. CJ reached a long arm over and gently turned his face toward hers. "Let Leo call the plays for a while, okay?" she persuaded softly. "He's got perspective, Toby." For a moment, he let himself get lost in her gaze.

Then he turned to Leo. "I do trust you. But promise me something anyway."

Leo nodded.

"Let's not be another administration that obfuscates the truth. Let's not be an administration that hides behind lawyers and avoids grand juries and look for ways to not appear at the senate hearings that are inevitable with things like this. Josiah Bartlet stands for something greater than that. Let's not drag him down. Let's not be those guys," Toby said fervently. Everything in the room got still as people thought about his words. All of their years of work up to this had been about not being those guys. Yet here was the moment of truth, and CJ suddenly understood how easy it would be to walk across that line. CJ bit her lip as she pondered the enormity of this.

"I promise," Leo returned solemnly.

"Even if we don't get what we want," Toby added.

"I understand," Leo nodded.

Toby nodded back at him. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Josh, get him on the phone and ask him if he would like to talk with Toby in my suite right now," Leo said still looking at Toby. Josh slowly brought his phone up to dial.

"Wait!" Leo said changing his mind. "Hand me the phone. Dial the damn thing first. He might as well deal with me."

"Having quite a party here, I see," Detective Jacobs observed.

"Yes, Detective. What brings you here on a Wednesday evening?" Leo asked dryly.

"Well, the most interesting thing happened to me today and I want to ask Toby about it. Mind if I sit down?" he said gesturing to a chair. "Oh, yeah, and Josh, that's quite a shiner you got there."

Josh gave him an annoyed look while everyone else sat stiffly in their places unsure of what was yet to come.

"Well, you see I pulled this case. It's a nasty one. Call girl murdered in a cheap hotel. As you can imagine, there is not much to go on. Plus it turns out that she comes from an influential family. So, of course, I am expected to perform miracles," he said looking around the room. Josh forced a smile of acknowledgement.

"So I have to make something out of nothing. What else is new, you know? I'm talking to everyone at the hotel, but no one knows anything. No big surprise there. That is until I talk to Mrs. Munoz. It seems she starts her housekeeping shift at 6 a.m. and she remembers a man exiting the deceased's room about 7 a.m. She described the man as balding, bearded, and wearing a nice suit and overcoat. Well as you can imagine, that doesn't really narrow it down much, except then she remembers something else. The man had a tag hanging off the lapel of his coat. She was able to describe it very well for me. Reminded me of the one that you wore, Josh, when we were working on the Grey case together. Wasn't even that long ago, was it?" He suggested meaningfully.

Josh nodded curtly at him. It was clear to him that Jacobs was reminding him that they had a history of cooperation.

He looked at Josh for a moment and then continued. "So now I think I got a guy with no hair working for the government. It still wasn't much to go on. But there's an old trick that sometimes works with descriptions. You show them a picture of someone with similar features and then they can start to tell you what's right and what's wrong with the picture compared to their memory. It narrows down the description and helps them focus on what they saw. So I want to try this with Mrs. Munoz and the only government guy I can think of who fits what we have so far is Toby Ziegler. So Toby, I decide to use you as the comparison guy."

Toby's hand was worrying his forehead as he listened to the detective's account.

"I found a pic of you on the web and showed it to Mrs. Munoz. And guess what? She can't think of any changes. In fact, she thinks I'm brilliant for picking the right guy on the first try. Can you imagine that?" he said staring pointedly at Toby.

"Of course, I know that descriptions aren't everything, but I thought I would call and just inquire. I'm still not suspicious about a thing. That is until I get the ever faithful Bonnie on the phone. By the time, she was done with me, I didn't know if you were alive, dead, missing, or even still working for the President. Isn't that interesting?"

"Detective, do you have questions for Toby?" Leo directed.

"Leo, this formality isn't necessary. I would be happy to fill in the blanks for Detective Jacobs. I was, in fact, in the deceased woman's room in the Amsterdam Hotel from 3:45 a.m. until approximately 7 a.m. She was already dead when I got there," Toby confessed. CJ found herself tapping her fingers anxiously on her knee. Sam reached over and put his hand on hers. He left it there.

"You spent three hours in the same room as a murder victim yet you did not call the police," Jacobs observed.

"When I left, I walked two blocks to a pay phone and called," Toby clarified.

"I'm not in love with your story, Toby," Jacobs said bluntly. "Do you want to start from the beginning?"

Toby started from the beginning, telling him about the President's plan to shake up tobacco, Sam's desperate call, and his own odyssey at the hotel. He didn't mention Sam's bloody shirt. Sam noticed and tried to interrupt at one point to add that detail. But Josh could see his intentions, and surreptitiously waved him down. Finally, he finished and Jacobs shook his head slowly.

"A lot of this is going to be hard to prove especially the part about the man in the room with you," he observed.

"Yes, I would imagine it will," Toby returned.

"Sam, do you remember being in the girl's room?"

"No," he said weakly.

"So we basically have no evidence that you were there at all," Jacobs concluded.

There was a silence as the bloody shirt stood between Sam and his answer. Josh tried to will him to respond affirmatively.

"Detective, he answered your question. He doesn't remember. Let's move on," Leo said firmly. Sam gave Leo a stricken look, but stayed silent.

"Toby, do you have anything to add?"

"No."

"You realize I'm going to have to take you in."

CJ let out a small gasp and Sam's grip on her tightened.

"Toby is being set up, Allan. You know about stuff like that. Remember Tucker Grey," Leo said trying to connect with the detective.

"Yeah, and I remember the lack of evidence against him too. This is not the case here. Toby was in the room with the girl. We have proof of that. She could have been killed in the time frame he was there. And this other guy, we have no proof he was even there," Jacobs returned in indignation.

"Allan, don't do this. It's a mistake that Toby and this administration will never recover from," Josh pleaded passionately.

"Do you think that we negotiate this?" Jacobs returned angrily. "I deal in facts, man. I don't have other options."

"The bad guys, the bullies, the guys who turn your stomach, you're going to do their dirty work," Josh persisted angrily.

"Give me a reason to believe you're right," Jacobs retorted.

"Because I said so," Josh shot back.

"Give me more!"

"Damn you!" Josh yelled.

"I have something," Toby said quietly. His words brought the room to a standstill. Everybody turned their attention to him.

"I was saving it. I wanted to give it to Leo later. See how we could use it…" he began.

"What do you have?" Leo demanded.

"I recorded my conversation with the man in the room," he said.

"For God's sakes, Toby! What the hell! Play the trump card now," Leo emoted.

"I have a micro-recorder. Helps me when I want to get down thoughts while I'm driving," he explained. He pulled the recorder out of his jacket and placed it on the table in front of them.

"I turned it on right before I entered the room. I had no idea what was inside. It was the only thing I could think of doing as protection," he said as he started it. The sound was grainy. There were the noises of a key in a lock and a door opening. The footsteps of him entering the room were barely audible. Then there was Toby's gasp of discovery. This moment, the moment in which one person finds another one dead, electrified the room. CJ was breathing in short, ragged breaths. Toby wanted to reach over and touch her, but he feared that his touch would drag her in, somehow make her as culpable as he was.

Then the voices began. Toby could be heard clearly, his fear a tangible thing. The other one was muffled and unclear. Slowly they were able to decipher what the man was saying in response to Toby. Then came the moment when the man asked Toby if he was willing sacrifice Sam over this. Sam caught his breath and Josh shot him a warning glance. Then the tape ended. Everybody stopped to gather their thoughts.

"This is not admissible in court," Jacobs said breaking the silence.

"I know that," Toby responded.

"Yet it tells you that a good man is being set up," Josh pushed.

"Oh, Right! So I just walk away because Toby produces an anonymous recording. Forget it, Josh," he said angrily.

"They are going to destroy him. And we will all probably go down with him."

"I'm not walking away," Jacobs said stubbornly.

"Then at least give us some time," CJ pleaded.

"How does that work? I go to my boss and tell him that I got the guy, only I'm not going to arrest him 'cause I'm giving him time to prove his innocence. You know, a lot they do it on 'Murder She Wrote," he returned sarcastically.

"What if we give you what you need now. You agree to hold it for one week. If we come up with nothing, then you move forward," Leo suggested.

"Bad idea," Jacobs concluded.

"I'll sign an affidavit outlining everything I told you here. Leo will sign as a witness. If we come up with nothing in one week, you can arrest me," Toby urged. CJ's eyes got big. The grip that Sam had on her hand left it numb.

"Allan, you want the right man in prison, don't you? Does Toby seem like that man to you? Allan?" Josh pleaded.

"This plan sucks," Jacobs observed. "This will be the second time this year that you guys have threatened my livelihood."

No one moved.

"I don't leave here without an affidavit. Plus, I am in the loop every goddamn step of the way. The minute I feel uninformed, I just generate a warrant. You understand?" he warned them. Josh did most of the head nodding for the group.

"Another thing," he added. "Monday. That's the day. Not one day longer. I'm not sitting around with this any longer than that."

Josh took a deep breath and then reluctantly nodded.

"Josh, you are going to be my best friend for the next week. You got it?"

"What you say we get started drawing up those affidavits?" he said in response.

"Lyman, I want to know when a trip to the bathroom gets organized. Comprendo?"

"Yes, I hear you, Allan. Let's get this started before you run out of languages in which to inquire of my understanding," Josh said as he hustled Jacobs over to Leo's desk.

Chapter 10

It was another hour before Detective Jacobs could finally be coaxed into leaving the hotel without Toby. Once again the room was silent as the group pondered the weight of what was happening. Sam had spent most of that hour standing at a window looking out onto the city. He waited until Jacobs was gone and then faced the group.

"What happened to being forthcoming?" he accused, his voice filled with hurt.

"Sam…" Leo began.

"I'm supposed to sit here while Toby gets arrested when we have no idea what I might have done in that room to that girl," he yelled.

"Knock it off," Josh yelled back. "You didn't do anything."

"I should have talked about the shirt," he persisted.

"Why? It wasn't evidence of anything, you imbecile," Josh shouted letting out some of the pent up energy he had been suppressing over the last few hours.

"We were going to talk about everything," Sam insisted.

"Sam," Leo said firmly. "You're a lawyer. You know, better than any of us that you are under no obligation to incriminate yourself."

"This is not right. Toby is covering up for my mistake. I should be a part of this."

"This isn't room," Toby said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Sam replied in frustration.

"There is only room for one fall guy in this drama and that position has been filled," he said gravely.

"Toby!" Sam yelled.

"Conversation's over, Sam," said Toby as he walked away.

"This is not right!" he insisted.

"No, Sam, it's not!" Leo retorted angrily. "But it's all we have right now. Would you feel better if both of you were going down? Is that what you want? "Cause I gotta tell you, Sam. If that's what you want, then my response to you is 'tough shit.' We are not going to compound an already bad situation with your feelings of guilt."

Leo had never spoken to Sam with that much anger before. It produced a sort of stunned silence around the room. Sam swallowed a couple of times as he sought a response to Leo's words. CJ knew how deeply Sam must have felt Leo's anger and she longed to reach out and offer support, but she knew that there was no room for a gesture like that right now.

"Sam," came a voice from the other end of the room. All heads turned to look at Toby who had wandered away from the group. "You're right to feel as you do. You're a good man. There is no other way a man such as yourself could react." His voice was soft and yet it held the room in its grip. "This is the way it is to be. My burden is that I must sacrifice myself. Your burden is that you cannot."

Sam's eyes lost their anger. He blinked a few times trying to drive back the moisture that threatened to spill over onto his face. Toby's face also softened and he offered his young friend a sad smile. "I'm sorry about this, Pal," he said. Sam shook his head in frustration and turned away, letting the tears spill from his eyes. It was at this moment that CJ realized that her own face was wet.

"All right, kids, playtime is over," Leo said, his voice cracking some under the intensity of the moment. "Josh, get on the phone and order us some coffee. We're going to be up late tonight. We have a lot to talk about."

"You look like you stayed up all night," scolded Margaret as she scurried down the hall beside him.

"What if I did? What? Do you think I run some sort of summer camp here? There are important things to do," he challenged in an annoyed tone.

"How about I try to reschedule a few things so you can go home early today," she offered as she tried not to engage in his irritation.

Yeah, so I can get even more behind in my appointments. No thanks, Margaret," he growled.

"Well, at least let me get you some juice and something healthy to eat," she persisted.

"No! I want coffee and a pastrami sandwich at noon, and that's all."

"You look like hell. Your eyes are all dark like a raccoon's," she insisted with some indignation. The time for diplomacy was over.

"Margaret, will you shut up!" he said in irritation.

"People will think that I don't take good care of you," she complained as Leo came to a stop in Mrs. Landingham's office.

"Okay, Margaret. Now who's fussing over who?" he reported with some satisfaction.

"What! Leo, this is point of pride for me. I can't have you walking around these halls looking like a victim from some type of disaster. I have a reputation to maintain!" she exclaimed.

Leo worked to suppress the grin that wanted to crawl onto his face. It was important that he stick with gruff. This day and the ones to come held no promise of joy. "Go away, Margaret. I have to go in and see him now."

And then he left her standing there with a certain amount of despair etched on her features. The door in front of her closed with a distinct thud.

"What tricks do you have up your sleeve?" came a voice to her left. Margaret jumped a little and then remembered that she and Leo had played out most of their scene in front of Mrs. Landingham's desk.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

"You're not just going to let him get the best of you. What tricks, Margaret?" she asked again.

Margaret considered Mrs. Landingham's odd question for a minute. "Well," she said slowly. "I have been thinking that the deli is going to screw up his order today. Maybe turkey pastrami instead of the regular, and I was also thinking they might run out of mayo. I suspect he'll get mustard, and a side of raw vegetables instead of fries."

"He'll be mad."

"It is my lot in life to suffer. Look who I work for," Margaret said melodramatically.

Mrs. Landingham smiled and said, "How about decaf?"

"He can tell the difference. I usually do half decaf in the regular. He'll be too tired to catch it."

"What else?"

Margaret thought for a moment. "My guess is that Josh can make room for the banking lobby if he's already going up to the hill. And Ed and Larry can be persuaded to need one more day to go over their figures on the midterm elections."

"That's the spirit!" Mrs. Landingham said.

Margaret was starting to feel better.

"Now make it seamless, dear. You don't want him tracing it back to you," she cautioned.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Have a cookie, Margaret."

Margaret left Mrs. Landingham's office beaming with pride. It was always nice to take back a little control when things got stressful.

Unaware of how his life was being managed outside the room, Leo stood silently before the President's desk waiting for his commander-in-chief to finish signing papers. He stood anther minute while the President handed them to Nancy and waved her out of the room. Then he had the attention of his President. Jed looked up at him and smiled.

"I hope that you are here to tell me that my staff is back to normal."

Leo failed to return his smile. "The fall colors are quite beautiful right now. How would you like to take a stroll around the rose garden?"

"Leo, I'm from New England. These little leaves are nothing compared to what we have back home, "said the President with a chuckle.

"Humor me," Leo persisted.

"Hell, Leo, I don't have time for admiring things outside. Grab a seat," he growled in return.

"Jed, you thick imbecile, I would like to talk to you outside the hallowed confines of the Oval Office. What do I gotta do to get you to take a hint?" Leo howled in exasperation.

"Ohhhh! I see. Well I have to say that a little once around the garden is just what I need about this time of day," said Jed Bartlet as he hurried from around the desk and ushered Leo outdoors.

They exited out the French doors and into the sun. The fall air was breezy and warm. The colors of the garden had lost their vibrancy and had turned soft and deep. Leo wished he could lose himself in the goodness of nature. It might be harsh at times, but at least, it was always honest.

"What's up?" inquired his curious friend, breaking Leo's reverie.

"Do you remember the night before the inauguration? We sat up all night long finalizing our plans, making our promises for the term," Leo said.

"Yeah," Jed said warily.

"Pretty late in the evening, we talked about the mistakes of previous administrations. We were both particularly disgusted with the obvious dishonesty of many of our predecessors," Leo continued.

"I remember."

"We decided that if there ever came a time when something dishonest or illegal threatened the administration, it would be my job to keep it out of your office," Leo added.

"Leo…." Jed began.

"You would never have to lie to the people. You would maintain your integrity," Leo continued talking. "You wouldn't be stained by the mistakes of others."

"Leo, stop!" Jed ordered. "It's not inauguration night anymore. That was a long time ago. Our innocence has long since been lost. The promises and the dreams we made then were the stuff of exuberance and excitement. We're adults now."

"We were right to decide that you should be saved from some things. There are ways to protect the integrity of the office," Leo insisted pulling Jed along as he further sought privacy on the vast multi-colored lawn of a fall day.

"Leo, you know Toby's secret," Jed guessed with some trepidation. "It's about the cigarettes, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Leo said simply. He didn't meet the President's eyes.

"Are we in trouble?"

"Yeah," Leo said looking out across the lawn.

"What have they done?"

"That's what we need to protect you from," Leo whispered.

"No, Leo, I won't have it. If they have pulled us into some kind of foolishness, I need to know about it," Jed said shaking his head.

"Then you would be party to a felony, my friend," Leo said quietly.

"Oh my God, Leo. What's happened?" Jed asked. Leo could see a look of distress overwhelming his face.

"No way, Jed. This is the way it has to be," Leo returned firmly.

"Dammit, Leo! Do not play around with me. I have to know what is going in my house!" Jed responded with anger.

"The minute I tell you, your Presidency is over," Leo said shaking his head.

"Yeah, but it's okay for you to walk around with the goods, is that it?" Jed yelled.

"Keep your voice down!" Leo hissed.

"You are speaking to the President of the United States, Mr. McGarry," he shouted, ignoring Leo's warning. "I want to know what the hell is going on?"

"Don't be a fool, Jed! If this doesn't get fixed, you can fire me and everyone else involved," Leo yelled back at him with his own growing anger. "You can stay afloat. You can keep your head above the fray. The Presidency will still be yours. You might suffer a blow, but it wouldn't have to devastate you. You could recover!"

Jesus, Leo, do you think I want that? Do you think I want to be the guy with clean hands while everyone else is digging ditches? We are in this together, Leo. I started the cigarette thing. The blame begins with me," Jed said in a softer voice. He seemed to be pleading with Leo now.

"This is the way it is. You have ditchdiggers. All Presidents do. What sets you apart is that you happen to care about yours," Leo said looking at his friend.

"Leo, I went into this with you. I fully expect to…" Jed started to say.

"Jed," said Leo impatiently. "You are not the President of this country because of me. And I know you didn't get into this game just so you and I could play, 'Leo and Jed's Excellent Adventures'. This is not about us. We are here together, not because we are friends, but because we share a dream for this country."

"Leo, please…"

"That dream is at risk right now. One of us has to hold back the bad guys while the other one carries forth the mission. Do you understand, Jed?" Leo eye's held an intensity that gripped Jed Bartlet.

"There has to be a way," he persisted.

"There isn't. You have to leave this in my hands. I will do everything possible to make this right again," Leo outlined.

"And I just sit there twiddling my thumbs," Jed responded bitterly.

"No, Jed, you run this country is what you do. This situation is not even going to be a blip on the screen. The cigs won't even see us blink," he said aggressively.

"When will I know something, Leo?"

"We have less than a week. At that point, it either disappears or you will have to start preparing your grand jury testimony."

"I hate this," Jed said in a low voice.

"I know."

"This is going to drive me nuts having to worry about you all week," he added.

"You know, Jed, sometimes your down home sweetness makes you endearing and other times, it just makes you weak," Leo said bluntly.

"Leo!"

"I'm serious, Jed. For the next week, you need to roll out the son-of-a-bitch that we all know you can be. You need to be your ego-maniacal self. You need to be rude, selfish, and pompous. I know it can't be that hard for you to access those beauties. They're never far from the surface."

"Yeah, Leo, tell me what you really think," Jed shot sarcastically.

"Right now, there is no room for friendships and histories and loyalties, Jed. If we fix it, you should know it'll probably never run the same again, and if we don't, then you better have the courage to keep walking and never look back," Leo said passionately.

"I was wrong not to involve you in the beginning," Jed said somberly.

"Don't look back," Leo said firmly.

"I have faith in you, Leo."

Jed stared at his old friend long and hard. The brittle, golden leaves on the lawn blew past the two men creating the soft whispers of a fall day. Slowly he nodded his head once. Leo returned the nod curtly and turned on his heel leaving the President of the United States feeling very alone on the lush expanse of the Rose Garden.

Chapter 11

"What do you suppose they're up to?" Donna asked with some irritation. Josh had been circumspect with her since the moment he walked in the door, and it annoyed her terribly. Not only were there secrets, but Josh had come in with the traces of a fading black eye and nothing in the way of an appropriate explanation.

"I don't know," Bonnie mumbled as she paced back and forth the bullpen keeping one eye always on Toby's office.

"Toby's not even in there!" Donna exclaimed for effect although she failed to clarify how this fact heightened the drama.

"I could bring more memos into his office," Bonnie suggested.

"Don't bother. They'll just stop talking and glare at you. Everybody's big on the old stink eye today," Donna replied as she slumped down in a chair with her arms folded and a deeply sullen look on her face.

"I was up all night," shot Bonnie sharing her mood.

"Like they care," Donna responded.

"They must not think we are capable of being any kind of help at all," Bonnie pouted.

"Did you call Ginger to fill her in?"

"No. It seemed like a good idea for somebody to get some sleep," Bonnie grumbled. She leaned against a desk facing his office as if waiting for some kind of telling movement from within.

"Frank Wycheck is our man!" announced Ginger as she sailed into the room, eyes sparkling.

Both Donna and Bonnie wore startled looks as they tried to adjust to the positive energy that was invading their frustrated vigil.

Ginger deposited a piece of paper onto Donna's lap and beamed. "It is all ready for Betty. Get it. Ready and Betty. The line-up is complete. You are all set my friend."

"Did you run into any problems with your new friend?" Bonnie asked, feeling reluctant to destroy Ginger's good mood.

"Will he be expecting an island nation any time soon?" Donna asked warily.

"No, it's all taken care of. I thought I was going to have some trouble until I explained how much ambassadors get paid. He lost interest pretty quickly after that," she said happily. Then she dug in her bag and pulled out four tickets. "Look, he gave me four sideline passes for the next home game.

"That's great," Donna said mustering up some semblance of enthusiasm. Bonnie turned her head away rather than try and fake anything.

"Yeah," Ginger said, her smile fading, as she began to sense the mood of the room. "What's going on?"

Donna looked at Bonnie for guidance. Bonnie sighed deeply and said, "Do you remember how we decided that the newspaper story about the murdered girl and all of that craziness around here was all some sort of cosmic coincidence?"

"Yeah," replied Giner cautiously.

"It wasn't," Bonnie said simply.

Ginger stared at both of them in shock.

"Last night, the police came looking for him," Bonnie reported.

"And he hasn't made it in today," Donna added.

Before Ginger could launch into an interrogation regarding the finer points of this startling information, the subject of all of their worries came walking briskly into the room.

"Hey, what's going on?" Toby announced to the stunned group in front of him. As usual, he was carrying an impossibly heavy load of files.

"Where have you been?" Bonnie asked with a voice that was a little more shrill than she would have liked.

"Well," he began carefully. "I was at the Library of Congress doing research on a thing."

"That's what you pay us for!" Bonnie returned unable to disguise her frustration.

"Bonnie," he said softly.

"We were up all night, Toby!" she exclaimed.

"I am sorry," he continued in a gentle tone. "But as you can see, I am here today. Your worst fears were not realized."

"Oh, really. So you can say to me with full confidence that this craziness is gone. There will be no more trouble with the police."

"Right now, I can't."

Bonnie looked away. Ginger stood there with wide eyes trying to follow the unfolding drama.

"Bonnie, if Detective Jacobs or anyone else from the DC police come looking for me, I will be happy to talk with them. You don't need to protect me from them," he clarified.

No one responded. He let the silence stand for a minute.

Donna looked at him. "Are you okay, Toby?"

"Yeah, I am actually. Secrets can be an awfully heavy burden, you know," he replied. "By the way, who's laying siege to my office?"

"Josh, Sam, and CJ."

"Well, this should be fun," he muttered as he reluctantly headed off in that direction. Right before going in, he turned and faced them. "After I'm done in there, I want sit down and go over all of my current projects. We may need to be prepared to transfer some things to other people." Then he disappeared inside. Bonnie picked up a stack from her 'in box', threw it, and then marched out of the room. Ginger winced as the load of files landed hard against the wall.

"Where have you been?" Josh demanded.

"And a good morning to you too," Toby responded smoothly.

"Well!" Sam chimed in.

"Nothing sinister. I was just doing a little research," he defended.

"You could have said something. We have been sitting in here for an hour and a half," CJ said with irritation.

"Don't you all have jobs to do? Has the country's business been all wrapped up?" he returned.

"Don't start that again," Sam growled.

"Go away so I can do some work," Toby said picking up on the irritation of the room.

"Toby, we have to develop a strategy," Josh insisted.

"I thought we were up until 5:30 a.m. this morning doing just that," Toby observed.

"Yeah, that was seven hours I'll never get back. What did we accomplish? All I got out of that whole mess was that Leo wants us to touch nothing until he says so," Josh complained.

"Sounds like a pretty good idea," Toby said as he settled into his chair. He tried a look of reason with his friends.

"It's bull! It's bunk! I'm not going to just sit there while this thing crashes down on top of you," Sam burst out angrily.

"Well then, what will you do?" Toby asked quietly. "What's your idea?"

"Josh and I will work with Jacobs and review what he has," Sam guessed in frustration.

"Well that sounds good. I'm sure that Jacobs is waiting on pins and needles for you two and your deductive genius to get into the game," said Toby with biting sarcasm.

"At least we're doing something," Josh shot at him.

"Yeah, me too," Toby returned.

"Really, Toby. You're working on something, huh? To me, you look like a guy who's just sitting around waiting for the cops come get him," Josh said viciously.

"Josh!" CJ exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah. I'm not going to just sit around. No sir. I got a secret plan. Listen to this. After work tonight, I'm going to sneak over to the Brown and Reynolds Corporate offices in Virginia. I plan to elude security and catapult myself into the compound. Once inside, I will immediately gain access to the office of the CEO where I will find papers that exonerate me sitting right on his desk. I shall photograph them with my miniature spy cam and quickly return to headquarters where Ginger will develop the photos and Bonnie will mix me martinis. Then tomorrow, I will use these photographs to bring down the tobacco industry."

"Oh, that's great, Toby. That's hilarious!" yelled Josh.

"While you and Sam run around playing Starsky and Hutch, I'm going to be here making sure that the Communications Office can survive an abrupt departure," Toby said as he glared at his angry friends.

"Don't you even want to fight?" CJ asked despairingly.

"Give me something to fight with," Toby said looking into her eyes. "The cancer guys are good at this stuff. They have been doing it for a long time. I don't see a way in. And until I do, there are responsibilities in this office for which I am accountable. There are things I can have ready for when and if, I am forced to leave. I don't plan on hurting my President any more than I have to."

CJ turned her head away in frustration. No one noticed that the door was open until a new voice joined in.

"Well said, Toby," Leo said as he walked into the room and located a chair.

"Thank you."

"Your colleagues don't seem able to focus on their work," Leo observed.

"They are all products of a generation that have watched too many TV detective dramas," Toby reported. Leo's mouth twitched as he swallowed a smile.

"Just sitting here is exactly the wrong thing to do," Josh insisted.

"So I just let you and your cohorts run headlong into whatever awaits us out there. That would be a plan? You think they are not out there waiting? You think that they have no more traps for us?" Leo challenged him.

Josh tried to meet him with a defiant glance, but found himself lost in the logic of what Leo was saying.

"We will do things, we will do them cautiously and with forethought," Leo said firmly.

"Leo, I have thinking about Margaret and that cigarette guy I caught her talking to," Sam said.

"What about it?" Leo asked warily.

"Maybe there is something there we could use to our advantage," Sam theorized.

"You would like to use Margaret to our advantage," Leo clarified in a dangerous voice.

"No," Sam defended. "I just think there may be something there that could help us."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. We could talk to Margaret and find out if…" Sam said trying desperately to save his idea.

"I get it," Leo interrupted. "This is your idea? Would you like me to tell Margaret she should sleep with him for information because, no doubt, in the throes of passion, he will reveal crucial details to the 'Tobacco Strategy'. The fact that she is my assistant will surely not deter him from any truth telling. And if she protests this assignment, I could always give her an extra vacation day. That should do the trick."

"Leo!" Sam yelled in a shocked voice.

"Leave her alone, Sam. She can't help us," Leo said firmly.

"You can't possibly think that I would even consider using Margaret in a disrespectful manner," Sam continued with a voice filled with hurt.

Leo lowered his eyes for a moment. "Sam, I am letting my anger get the best of me. I do not believe that you would disrespect Margaret in any way."

"It happened last night too. Maybe you wish I had done a better job of hearing your warning about the cigarettes at the beginning of the week," said Sam slowly as if unsure that he wanted a response.

"There's no maybe about it, Sam. I am angry with you for being naïve as I am angry with Toby for heading out alone to protect your virtue as I am angry with Josh for trying to hide you from me. I am angry with you all for being good men. It will cost us dearly," Leo replied sadly. A stillness descended upon the room as people felt the depth of Leo's worry.

"Leo," CJ began hesitantly. "What about Bernie and his papers?"

"That was ten years ago, CJ," Leo said shaking his head.

"There's nothing to find," Josh added. "We looked for years."

"We could talk to Anna Hanson. Maybe she could help us. She might have something…" CJ persisted.

"No, CJ, she doesn't. Let Anna rest. She doesn't know anything," Leo countered wearily.

"I want to do something."

"You need to make sure that the press stays focused on nothing other than the President's new budget plan and the Halloween party he's throwing next week for his grandkids."

"Are you sure that's it, Leo? Because I am sure that I could also find time to bake cookies and wash clothes for all of you," CJ said letting her anger get the best of her.

"Don't take me there, CJ. This is where you need to be and what you need to be doing," Leo growled in her direction.

CJ shook her head in frustration. Toby wished he knew how to reach out to her, but he felt her drifting farther away from him with each passing hour.

"You two are going to have lunch with Jacobs and cooperate with him in every way possible. Do not harass him. Do not fight with him. Do not antagonize the man! This is a precarious deal we have entered into with the good detective," Leo said warning Sam and Josh with a stern glare. With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

They looked at each other for a moment as if unsure of what to do next. Josh turned to focus his attention on Toby who could sense that this signaled a return to their earlier argument. He waved him off before Josh could get a word out and physically herded he and Sam out the door.

CJ stood alone in Toby's office, trying to remember what her life felt like before the cigarettes came to visit.

Jed Bartlet sat alone in the Presidential dining room. He usually cherished this point in his day. It was time for him to think and breath. No one wanted anything from him in this hour. He could be a man again instead of the most powerful leader in the world.

This, however, was not to be a day in which he sought comfort in solitude. He stared down at the meal in front of him. It disturbed him greatly. He was yet unable to take a bite. When Nancy had brought it in and set it before him, he had complained telling her that she had brought him the wrong plate. He told her that Mrs. Landingham would have her head if she knew what was being placed before him. He made quite a production out of it, in fact. Although clearly intimidated, Nancy held her ground. She explained that Mrs. Landingham had personally ordered this meal for him. That shut him down.

So there he sat with his favorite foods before him; mashed potatoes, meatloaf with mushroom gravy, green beans German style, and a beautiful piece of apple pie on the side. The whole thing depressed him. She knew him too darn well. He should have known when he saw her looking out the French doors at him this morning.

She would have seen him standing there alone on the lawn after Leo had left him. The Secret Service prowling around at what they perceived to be a discreet distance, imagining that they could offer him space. He had stood there for quite a while, his hands in his pockets and his head down, the wind whipping away at his hair and jacket.

She could read him so well. She always knew when something big was up, and she seemed to know how to sense the weight of his burden. So here it was, before him, her gesture of support. She was offering him a food as comfort as so often is the custom among women of her generation. He wanted to feel touched by this move, warmed by the gesture, but Leo was right, there was no room for cute this week.

He leaned back and roared for service. A steward instantly appeared. "Take this away," he demanded. "And bring back a goddamn salad and one of those god awful protein shakes you people force me to drink every day."

As the steward scurried back into the kitchen with his order, Jed Bartlet sat back and closed his eyes, feeling more alone than ever in the busy world that was his kingdom.

Chapter 12

"You guys ready to order yet?" asked the young woman who felt like she was making a career out of stopping by their table.

"Sorry," Josh apologized. "We're still thinking."

"Okay," she said slowly as she glanced around the busy DC restaurant and stopped her survey at the group of businessmen still waiting for a table at the front.

"Come back in one minute, and we'll have orders, I promise," said Sam.

She gave them a half smile because she had already heard this promise three times, and reluctantly moved off.

"I am not showing you a damn thing," Jacobs hissed when she was out of earshot again.

"Allan, it's a good idea. Sam and I are bright. We're not a couple of yahoos. We could go over what you have and then maybe we might have some suggestions," Josh offered innocently.

"You guys are idiots! Do you think I got my badge out of a Cracker Jack box? You are not qualified to look over evidence. Besides, you and your pals are my frickin' chief suspects," he shot back.

"We think we can help," Sam urged.

"You're forgetting your place, Sam. I'm running this thing. I'm the cat, and you are the mouse. Get it straight," he growled.

The perky face leaped into view again. Sam resisted an urge to scream in surprise. She wore an expression of decision. "Got a plan, guys?" she said firmly.

"Well…" Sam began as he furiously perused the menu.

"I am backed up at least fifty people. Play or pass," she said.

"I am just wondering about your heart healthy selections," Sam said. "You have several. Now in my experience with heart healthy restaurant meals, the…"

"Oh, for God's sakes," Jacobs howled. "Bring three cheeseburgers with fries and mayo on the side."

"My cholesterol numbers were slightly elevated on my last visit, and I really don't think that I should be eating any red meat right now. Plus the mayo is a definite no-no. And as for the fries, well, I only allow them once a week, and it seems to me like I have them scheduled for Saturday of this week. You know, as sort of a nice weekend treat," Sam informed the table.

"Josh!" pleaded Jacobs in a strangled voice.

"Go!" Josh urged their server. "Place the order. He'll eat whatever you bring us. Hurry before he speaks again." Seeing her chance, she took off careful not to look at Sam again before she went.

"It's a crime to order a healthy meal?" Sam complained.

"Shut up, Sam," Josh threw in his direction before continuing his conversation with Jacobs. "Allan, cut the crap. You wouldn't be here if you thought we were the bad guys."

"I'm not showing you evidence, Josh. It's time for you to fold up the tents on that idea."

"Okay, then what are we going to work on?"

"Sam's story."

Okay," Josh agreed.

"I'm interested in your college buddy, the one who probably spiked your drink," Allan began.

"I told you last night. His name is John Thyer. He went to Princeton with me. I haven't seen him in six or seven years. I tried the number out of the alumni directory, but it's disconnected," Sam said shaking his head in frustration.

"I bet it is, Sam. How well did you know this guy?"

"Not good at all. I played racquetball with him a couple of times. Nice guy, I thought. He sort of struggled with school I think. If I remember correctly, he had to repeat his last year."

"And you have an alumni directory that's fairly current?"

"Yeah."

"Tonight, I want you to call everyone in it. See if anyone else remembers him," Jacobs directed.

"What! Are you nuts?"

Jacobs ignored his outburst. "Tell people that you are looking for Thyer. Tell them that you have an opportunity for him, but his number is disconnected. Think up some government post or something. There might be somebody out there that remembers something that will help us find him."

"Talk about your long shots," Josh said.

"This is how this work is done, Josh," Jacobs replied.

"You really think this will bear fruit," Sam said.

"Who knows, but anything is better than watching you play TV detective."

"Okay guys," broke in a voice. "Here are your burgers and fries." She set down three pricey fast food masterpieces.

Jacobs looked up at the waitress. "Wrap mine to go, please. Josh, I assume that Uncle Sam is picking up the tab." Then he got up to follow her out. "Sam, I want to hear from you this afternoon, got it?"

Sam nodded at him. Then Jacobs turned and left. Sam looked down at his food a dismayed look on his face. "Can you guess how many grams of fat are probably in here?" he complained.

"Sometimes, I just want to reach over and bury a salad fork in your skull," Josh responded in a low voice.

"Maybe, I'm not so hungry today," Sam decided as he visualized Josh's threat.

"Yeah, maybe none of us have much of an appetite right now. Let's go start calling your old buddies," he said producing a credit card. They left their food still cooling on the table behind them.

CJ walked quietly into the bedroom. She stood for a moment at the entrance to the door as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could hear his breathing. It sounded so calm and even as if his dreams were unaware of his reality.

Slowly, she shed her clothes and let them drop to the floor. This was a moment in her life born solely out of need. It served no other purpose. The guilt she felt about that didn't help her turn around and leave.

She walked over and gently crawled under the covers with him. She reached around his back and pulled his body into hers. She needed this. No matter what she felt or what had been damaged between them, she needed to be with him now.

He shook his head groggily and turned his face toward hers, taking a minute to adjust his vision. She started to explain that it was a selfish move for her to be here, and that she knew now that a future together seemed unlikely. She told him that her mind was filled only with doubts right now. The words all came out in a jumble, climbing over one another, competing for space. They made sense. They made no sense. She wasn't sure.

Toby didn't seem to care. In a move designed to stop their flow, he reached over and pulled her mouth to his. CJ let a groan escape her before giving in completely to his touch. She kissed and touched and made love to him furiously that night, searching for ways to make it last forever. She wanted every sensation to be marked indelibly in her memories. Afterward, she lay quietly in his arms. He seemed to understand that all conversation returned them to a world of pain and so he said nothing to her, merely stroking her hair until she fell asleep. She held onto him tightly through the night, even in her deepest slumber.

Margaret gave her a half smile as Donna settled in across from her at the table. Margaret had sat alone purposely. She hadn't been feeling like conversation lately. She should have known that cues like that wouldn't deter Donna.

"Haven't talked to you much lately," Donna began before taking a bite out of her chicken salad.

"I've had a lot on my mind," Margaret responded. She was stirring her soup absently with a spoon.

"You know, if it was another place and time, I would make you suffer for that," Donna observed.

"What are you talking about?"

"You sitting there with something big on your mind and not sharing with me. You have had this look on your face all week."

"Yeah," Margaret agreed sullenly.

"But I'm not gunning for you today, my friend. You have dodged a bullet, Margaret. No, I am here on another mission altogether," Donna reported. She reached over with her napkin and dabbed a bit of soup that had settled on the corner of Margaret's mouth.

"What?" Margaret asked trying to demonstrate interest.

"Our boys are up to their necks in something nasty, real nasty," Donna emphasized.

"Leo too?" Margaret asked offering her full attention now.

"Yeah, Leo too. Haven't you noticed?"

"Leo and I are sort on the outs right now. I said some stupid things that I don't intend on taking back so we're not really speaking much," Margaret admitted somberly.

"You haven't noticed anything odd?" Donna pressed.

"He did come back from the bullpen yesterday in a massive funk. Wagged his finger at me and told me that I was to stay away from Sam Seaborn. Said that if Sam so much as comes into the room, I am to leave. Then he went into his office and slammed the door."

"What the hell?" Donna cried in confusion.

"Oh, I don't know, Donna. It was yet another edict from above. Maybe Sam looked at me funny. Or maybe, he thinks I'm drooling over the kid, I don't know. Or maybe…" Margaret stopped in mid rant as if seized by a thought.

"What?" asked Donna.

"Sam helped me out of a situation this week. The situation itself was the impetus for my fight with Leo," Margaret speculated.

"Your situation, did it have anything to do with the Tobacco guys?"

"Are they the ones making the trouble?"

"That's what we think," Donna said.

"What have they done?" Margaret asked softly.

"Margaret, I think you and I need to share our stories," Donna said with meaning. "I suspect there may be some connections." Margaret nodded in agreement.

"Why don't you start, Margaret?" She had finished her sandwich and was reaching to pull Margaret's soup over. "We can't let this just sit there and get cold now, can we?" Donna speculated as she spooned up Margaret's lunch. Margaret sighed and started talking.

Sam sat back in his chair and tried to pretend that Josh was not still in his office with him. Josh, for his part, was on the couch going through Sam's alumni phone book, not particularly caring if Sam was okay with it or not.

"Josh," Sam began with irritation. "I have already called 67 of my former classmates, most of whom I had hoped never to have speak to again. This is a wild goose chase, Josh. This is a thing that Jacobs is having us do so that we stop bugging him. It serves no other purpose."

"Do you have something better to do?" Josh said not looking up from the book seated on his knees.

"We could be talking to people at the Hotel Amsterdam. We could be following Jacobs around as he works the case. We could be…" Sam stopped in mid sentence. He decided not to embark on more ideas on how their time would best be used. He had tried to bring up his Margaret idea with Josh, and had it treated with as much diplomacy as he had received from Leo.

"Sam, shut up," Josh said simply. "We have gone over all of your ideas at least five times and they remain bad despite your persistence."

"So we're just supposed to sit here," Sam began incredulously.

"No, we shouldn't. I believe that we are onto the T's. You should dial…."

Ginger interrupted their conversation when she popped her head around the door.

"Sorry, guys. Sam, a Wilson Packard is on line 1," she said before disappearing.

"You see, Josh, this is what I have been reduced to. Now I gotta get on the phone with the supremely boorish Wilson Packard and I gotta pretend he's a human being," Sam complained.

"Yeah, Sam, I don't know how you survive it all. My heart cries for you. Get on damn phone!" he growled at Sam before returning to the book in front of him.

Sam was still glaring in Josh's direction as he picked up the phone. "Hello, is this is Wilson?…Yes, how are you?…Yes, it has been too long…Have you made junior partner?…Yes, well, I think we could all see that coming…The White House is good, thank you…Say, Wilson, I am looking for an old classmate of ours, John Thyer…Well, I am not really at liberty to say, but there is an opportunity waiting for him if I can only locate him…Yeah, I know he wasn't really a star…Well, I don't know if he is a Repulican…Wilson, have you kept in touch, heard from him, anything? It's quite important…No, no, if you don't have his number. I understand…Wilson, what did you say?…You don't have his number, but you ran into him last week. You're kidding…With his fiancée?…Where, Wilson? What did he say?…Yes, I understand that this is irregular…Please…he told you all that. That's amazing. This is so very helpful, Wilson. You have no idea…It has been great talking to you. Please take care…Good-bye."

Josh was leaning forward on the couch, having caught the last half of the conversation. Sam shook his head in incredulity.

"Wilson ran into him last week in New York. Right before he came down here to DC. Said that he and his fiancée were going to get married just as soon as he closed a deal. Said it was going to be the easiest money he ever made," Sam reported wearing a stunned expression.

"Did he say anything else?" Josh prompted impatiently.

"He said that they were going to have a honeymoon on the beach. They talked about some little place north of Baltimore. Said that it was the place that the Kennedy's used to go to before they built on Hyannisport."

"Bonnie! Ginger!" Josh screamed.

The anxiety of the last couple of days had left them always in close proximity to the bullpen. Within seconds, they were both crowding the doorway.

"We need the names and phone numbers of all seaside resorts north of Baltimore for at least one hundred miles," Josh ordered. They looked at each other in confusion briefly and then disappeared.

Chapter 13

"It's so nice to have someone to take my afternoon walk with," said the older woman. She was really quite beautiful. A cloud of blonde hair framed the face of a woman who seemed to enjoy her age.

"I'm glad you could find time for me," CJ answered. She found herself almost immediately comfortable with her new companion.

"There will come a day, CJ, when you will have nothing but time," smiled the woman.

"I'll believe that when I see it," CJ returned with a smile. They walked together in silence for a moment enjoying the rich colors of the fall day. CJ had always felt so at peace during this time of the year. There was something so gentle about the passing of this season as if nature was trying to teach its inhabitants that endings didn't have to be harsh.

"Mrs. Hanson…" she began.

"Please call me, Anna."

"I just want to go over why I am here. You remember that I explained to you that Leo doesn't know I'm here. Nor would he approve of my being here. And you should know that I want to talk to you about your husband. There is a chance that the forces that hurt him are going to hurt persons close to me," CJ said.

"I remember all of that, CJ. You were very frank with me on the phone. And please don't worry about Leo. He has no jurisdiction over my visitors," returned Anna. She reached over and squeezed CJ's hand.

"I don't want you to think that I am here under any sort of false pretenses," CJ said.

"I am happy to talk about Bernie. I think it's funny that people don't think you want to talk about the one thing you are thinking about all the time."

"Okay," CJ sounded relieved.

"The tobacco companies are threatening your friends especially your friend, Toby Ziegler," clarified Anna.

"Yeah," CJ admitted. She had felt compelled to give Anna some idea about what the situation was. Anna seemed to sense pretty quickly that Toby was more than just a colleague to her.

"Is your Toby like my Bernie?" Anna asked.

"Well, I don't know. I never knew your husband. Josh has told me some things. And from what he has said, I think that Toby has many similarities with your husband. At the very least, I believe that they would have liked and respected each other," CJ said softly.

"It sounds like your Toby isn't afraid to kick the bully in the shin. That reminds me very much of Bernie."

CJ felt her eyes getting hot and turned her head away for a minute as they walked. She wondered if Anna knew what it was like to be fiercely in love and angry with someone at the same time. Was that what it was like to be in love with Bernie Hanson?

Anna walked patiently beside CJ until she turned back to her with a smile and red-rimmed eyes.

"CJ, what can I do to help?" Anna asked her gently.

"Why did your husband die?" she asked.

Anna shook her head. "My husband shot himself because he couldn't face the world. They pushed him too far. I think they put him in a situation where he couldn't live with what he had done."

"Do you know any more than that?"

No, I don't know the details. I don't know if they blackmailed him or set him up. I do know that my Bernie was not a suicidal man."

"Josh thought he might have evidence against the cigarettes," CJ began hopefully.

"Yes, that has been speculation, but I have no evidence that he actually had anything on the Tobacco men," said Anna slowly.

"You don't know anything that might help me?" CJ seemed to be pleading with her question.

Anna stopped and looked up at her tall companion. "I was mad at Bernie all the time, CJ. It didn't warm my heart that he was the champion of the downtrodden. It filled me with dread and fear. He was always out there risking himself and his family, all for the benefit of people I would never know."

CJ was shocked at the bitterness inside this kind woman.

"I am not proud of those feelings. I was selfish. I didn't want to share him and I resented his willingness to put his career and life at risk. Sometimes it made me feel like he couldn't possibly care about me enough. He needed these other things to fill himself. He needed to go out and fight these battles. I wasn't enough to fill him."

CJ was locked into the intensity of Anna's eyes.

"My jealousy was as insidious as the forces that plotted his demise. The day of his death, there was to be an anniversary party. I was so excited. You see I had come to a point where I was recognizing what I was doing to the relationship. I had forgotten that I had fallen in love with that man precisely because of how he reached out to help others. I loved him because he stood for something more than himself. I saw that anniversary as a chance for a new beginning. I was going to tell him all of this."

"And you never got a chance, Anna. I am so sorry," CJ's tears had returned, but this time she didn't hide them.

"CJ, I talk to Bernie every day. It's been ten years, but I tell him how much I love him every day," smiled the older woman.

"Anna…"

"Don't worry about it, CJ. I don't necessarily have to be a crazy person to believe that he is still with me. I would be too lonely if I ever imagined otherwise. CJ, I don't have Bernie's papers, but I do think I can help you. I want to tell you to treasure what you have. Remember why you fell in love with that man. Maybe in the end, your faith will be the thing that saves him. I have always wondered if I had only talked to Bernie earlier, if I had shown him something other than resentment and anger, maybe he would have had the strength to put that gun back down on the table and walk away. Then I could touch him now too," Anna talked in a whisper, looking with CJ with wet eyes.

CJ leaned over and accepted her embrace. The two women held each other as the leaves gently seesawed to the ground on either side of them.

"CJ, please think about what I am saying to you. Please do that for me."

"When we find him, he's mine, he and that fiancée," clarified Jacobs from the back seat. Sam nodded tersely in response. Jacobs had been clarifying things for the last hour and a half.

"Relax, Allan, we've got the picture," Josh urged.

"I'm supposed to relax. And yet, we've got the Boy Wonder behind the wheel trying to break a land speed record. His teeth are so tightly clenched, I haven't understood a word he has said for the last 60 miles," Allan shot back at Josh.

Sam seemed completely oblivious to the conversation happening around him. He was focused totally on the road ahead and on the thoughts swirling around in the back alleys of his mind.

"This could be a break, Allan," Josh explained. "Maybe this will mean that eventually we will get to eat and sleep and wonder what's on the TV and who we're going to try and get in the sack again. Just like normal people."

"We have to play this right. I'm the captain here, the big kahuna, the queen bee. You guys are just along for the ride. If you're lucky, I'll let you buy me a beer or something. You understand my meaning?"

"You are such a sweet talker, Allan, and so inspirational. It's a wonder why we don't just peel away from Bartlet and become your groupies," Josh drawled over his shoulder.

"This is it, isn't it?" Allan said as Sam slowed in front of a small seaside hotel, the kind of place that was on the other side of its glory years.

Detective Jacobs gave them one last glare for good measure before heading into the lobby. They tagged along behind him, unmindful of the fresh, salt air that blew in off the beach.

Jacobs went straight up to the desk and asked for John Thyer. The girl sitting in the chair behind him looked up and asked him to repeat his question. Josh thought he could see her become distinctly uncomfortable. At first she tried to be evasive. When that didn't work, she wanted to know if they were relatives. Finally she went for the manager.

An older balding man came out and gestured them into his office. Although confused, they followed him inside.

"You guys friends of Mr. Thyer?" he inquired when they all sat down.

"This is brand new for me," began Jacobs sarcastically. "I am rarely interrogated at hotels when I come to visit a guest. Is this a new policy with you guys?"

"I apologize, sir," returned the man. "This is quite an unusual situation and we're not quite sure how to handle it.

"What's going on here?" Josh asked.

"I am so sorry to tell you this. Your friend, Mr Thyer, and his fiancée, Miss Green, were killed early this morning in a car accident. They were returning to the hotel and, well I'm not really sure what happened. The sheriff came a few hours ago and let us know. We still have their clothes and things."

Sam gripped the arms of his chair. He felt an overwhelming need to vomit. He lowered his head and tried to settle his breathing. Josh stared at the man, willing him to change his story. When that didn't happen, Josh shook his head and muttered expletives to himself. The threads, the tiny threads to which they hoped to cling continued to slip away.

It took a few minutes for Jacobs to successfully herd his two White House staffers out of the hotel and back into the parking lot. Sam looked at Josh with an expression of extreme frustration, and then stumbled toward the beach. Allan and Josh waited until they were sure he was through emptying the contents of his stomach and then they followed. Together, they stood on the white sand and stared out at the water, letting the wind blow through them. They looked lost out there as if unsure of which direction would carry them home.

Chapter 14

"You don't think he'll do anything?" Sam said morosely as he studied the beer bottle in front of him. He had amassed quite a collection of bottles, and was continually rearranging them in geometric shapes. Josh had left them half an hour ago to go use the phone, forcing Sam to engage in sullen, small talk with the detective. He compensated for this by taking advantage of the bar's two for one late night happy hour.

"The sheriff said he'd look into it. We didn't exactly give him a lot to go on, you know," Jacobs replied. He was watching the ice melt in the bottom of a whiskey glass.

"He's not going to find anything," Sam predicted, raising his voice in frustration.

"Probably not," Jacobs agreed softly.

Josh appeared and slid in the booth beside Jacobs.

"How was Leo?" Sam asked. Josh noticed that Sam had new acquisitions to his growing beer bottle collection.

"No so happy," Josh shrugged. "I told him we were going to drive back in the morning. He's going to want to meet."

Sam nodded and returned his attention to Jacobs. "We should re-interview the people at the hotel. Somebody's gotta know something."

"It's no good, Sam," he replied shaking his head. "They can't tell us anything new. These guys know how to cover their tracks."

"Okay, then what do we do?" Sam demanded. Sam's words were starting to run together.

"We get some sleep is what we do, Sam. Then we'll think about it."

"I don't sleep. Until this is over, I don't sleep!" Sam announced. Josh was trying to recall just how many beers Sam had ingested before this new collection of bottles had appeared on the table.

"Suit yourself there, Boy Wonder," said Jacobs with a shrug. "I'm going to crash."

"No!" Sam shouted. "If I don't sleep, you don't sleep. We work on this until we fix it. We're not going to let Toby take the fall for this."

"Hey Sam, calm down," Josh said as he reached over and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"This is wrong!" Sam complained in a loud voice. "We need to do something."

"We'll have breakfast at 7, and then get back on the road, okay," Jacobs said to Josh. He was studiously ignoring Sam.

"We have to stay on top of this," Sam continued despite his lack of audience. "Leave no stone unturned."

"You gonna take care of him?" Jacobs said as he gestured at Sam with his head.

"We should go over everything. Use the shirt if we have to," Sam mumbled to the table at large.

"What did he say?" Jacobs scrunched up his face in confusion.

"He's drunk, Allan," Josh said trying not to betray the panic that was flooding through his body.

"He said something about a shirt," Jacobs said. "What were you talking about there, Boy Wonder?"

Sam blinked and tried to focus. Something about the detective's tone told him that he had stumbled and so he stayed silent.

"You gonna harass him in his current state of inebriation?" Josh said, trying to distract the detective.

"Maybe there's something you're hiding from me," Jacobs accused.

Josh got up and walked up to the man. He stood right in front of Jacobs' face. "Are you going to sleep well tonight, Allan? Do you feel like you're gonna be arresting the right man come Monday? Do you feel good about this?"

"I'm going to sleep fine, Lyman, if it turns out that you're holding out on me," Jacobs returned meeting Josh's eyes.

"One fall guy is enough, Allan," Josh said firmly. His eyes never wavered as he stayed with the detective's glare. The two men stayed locked in an intense battle of wills. Finally Jacobs shook his head and walked away. Josh let out a deep sigh and watched him exit the bar. Then he gathered up his young friend and headed down the beach toward the hotel.

Margaret stopped at the door to the café and took a deep breath. She was not at all sure why she was doing this or what it could possibly accomplish. Still she had made it this far, and so she willed herself to find the courage to see it through.

He was seated near the coffee bar in the non-smoking section. She stifled an urge to let out a cynical laugh at the irony of it all. He looked up at her warily as she stood before him.

"Are you going to take a seat?" he asked cautiously.

"We'll see how this goes," she replied.

"You called me," he said with a tinge of impatience.

"I am well aware of that, Steve."

"What can I do for you?"

"Why was it so important that you talk to me?" she asked him slowly.

"I wanted you to know that I was sorry," he said simply.

"Why?"

"Margaret," he began impatiently.

"Answer it or I go," she said plainly.

"It bothered me. That it was left hanging, that I never saw you again. I wanted you to know that I am not that person anymore," he explained haltingly.

"It bothered you? Why?"

"I don't know, Margaret. I don't know," he replied wearily.

"I think that you are either not trying hard enough or you just don't want to tell me the truth," she concluded.

He shook his head in frustration. They stayed there for a minute in silence. Margaret stood with her arms folded considering the man in front of her. She liked standing over him. He didn't seem as powerful as she remembered. She decided from his silence that she had learned as much as there was to know, and so she turned to leave.

"Wait!" he said.

She stopped and looked around at him.

"Do you remember how we used to go for walks, the kind of walks that would last all day long? We would go on days like this when the season was changing," he said with a sort of desperation.

She looked at him quizzically.

"We used to talk about things, you and I. I remember that we talked about our dreams in life. We used to do that for hours. We had such lofty goals for ourselves, goals that were the stuff of young idealism. Do you remember?" he continued.

"There was nothing wrong with my goals," she replied simply.

He couldn't meet her eyes. "I was going to do something good for the world. I remember that. I was going to do Legal Aid for a while. I had a dream of going to work for the Southern Poverty Law Center. I was going to work for free if I had to just so that Morris Dees could see my commitment."

"I remember."

"It sounds ridiculous when I think back on it," he said with an embarrassed grin.

"Maybe to you it was," she said with a shrug.

"Then I got so involved in the game. Being the head of a team, the quarterback, was so much pressure. Everybody was pulling at me all the time. It was stifling. I guess that's sort of when I started to lose myself," he explained.

He had her attention, but he could see that she wasn't going to offer any gestures of support or encouragement.

"I hurt you and you left. Then eventually, I wasn't the quarterback anymore. My dreams disappeared, I guess, under the weight of pain and disappointment. Reality set in, you know. Diana came into my life and she really took care of me. And then it was time to go into the world. It's at those moments, Margaret, that you realize that your dreams are only your dreams."

Margaret's impatience with him was getting the best of her. "Is there a point to this compelling autobiography, Steve?"

"The tobacco companies pay well, Margaret. I have been able to take care of my family with ease for the last 15 years. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I can hold my head high."

"Why the hell are you telling me this?" she complained bluntly.

He turned away from her with a hurt expression.

"First, you want me to forgive you for beating me and now you want me to forgive you for being weak. You are such an idiot," she said in disgust.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Nor do I care to," she said. She was shaking her head in disbelief. "Steve, those moments when you were dreaming and wishing you could participate in something real, those are the only moments that mean anything to me. The rest of this is crap. Did you ever try to walk away?"

"Two years after I was in, I discussed it with my wife, but it wasn't the right time. She was pregnant and we had just purchased a house. The cards were not with us."

"Oh, I get it. You and your wife would have had to go without a country club membership for a couple of years. Or maybe it was the status. That's a hard thing to give up. Was it the clothes or the cars or having to find a smaller house? So many things you had to face. I understand your situation completely now," she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You ended up an old maid secretary, Margaret, working for a drunk Democrat and his addled President. I have a family that I have taken care of for fifteen years, and I have done it well," he countered bitterly.

She stopped and looked at him with her mouth open. Her purse dropped to the floor and for a minute, she wondered if she was going to physically attack him. He must have wondered the same thing because he flinched when she approached. She leaned over him and spoke in low, measured tones. "I work for a man, Steve. I work for a real man, the kind with guts and might and heart. He comes in every day with bloodshot eyes and a bad temper. He yells at me and has never once asked me what my favorite color was or when my birthday was. He demands too much of me and rarely shows me any appreciation. At night I go home alone and exhausted, and I do nothing but sleep because that is the only way I can stay ahead of the curve with him."

She stopped and swallowed painfully. She would not cry for him. He would not be allowed anything that personal from her. Just when he thought she was finished, she came back at him.

"And I would walk through fire for him," she said passionately with eyes flashing. "Because he is real, Steve. He sacrifices and risks and puts his life on the line every day. He means something to me, and I will follow him proudly even if it is two steps behind, and only as his 'secretary.' I am a part of something good, Steve. Every minute that I feel tired and underpaid and overworked and invisible, I still feel the pride. I feel the goodness, the righteousness of what it's all about. I am a lucky woman."

She backed away from him, and reached down to pick up her purse. He looked stunned, and made no move to respond. At the door she stopped and looked at him one last time. "I won't give you absolution, Steve. You haven't earned it."

Chapter 15

It was a Saturday afternoon, but it seemed like a weekday. The Wing was busy with people. Margaret had come in, and had to endure more than a few remarks from Leo about how he liked the office to himself on the weekend. She had to come in as did Ginger, Bonnie, and Donna. The tension of what was happening was too great. Their thoughts and worries as well as the answers to their questions was here. It cost too much to sit at home and not know.

"I have it," Toby announced as he sailed past Margaret into Leo's office. Margaret followed him in. She decided that she was going to risk being told to leave. Toby was at Leo's desk waving a large manila envelope around. Leo was telling him to relax and sit down.

Leo glanced over and saw her, but said nothing. It was as if he was too tired to care anymore about who knew what. He leaned over and took the envelope from Toby.

"Is it enough?" Leo asked critically.

"Who knows? It's something. They'll give us something for this. They'll have to," he reasoned.

Margaret held her breath. Maybe this was the thing that would make it right. She prayed that they would let her stand there and witness this.

"Anybody else know?" Leo asked over his glasses.

"Yeah, they do. They don't get the significance. They don't know about all the work you and I have done over the last two days, but they know it exists."

Leo started to read. It was uncharacteristic for Toby to fidget, but there he was sitting at the edge of his seat, unable to keep still.

"Seven kids, all in one family, Leo. Orphaned by cigarettes, one parent dying at age 39, the other at 43. These kids are still young. Their grandmother is raising them, and she has lung cancer! What are the odds?" Toby let his words tumble out of him, impatient for Leo to finish reading.

"They thought about suing the cigarette companies, but they have no money. They think they need money to sue. Can you believe it? Look at those kids, Leo. Look at their faces! They want to do TV. They want to talk. 20/20 is interested. Primetime live already has a camera crew en route."

"You explained everything to them?" Leo asked severely.

"It's a go. Either way, they win. If we say the word, they go on TV. Six thousand lawyers will probably call them in the first twenty-four hours to offer them services. If we say no, they stay in closet."

"And in effect, preventing them from gaining much needed money for their pain and suffering," Leo responded disapprovingly.

"Are you kidding? Do you really think the cigarette companies will let this potential lawsuit just sit there? If the cigarettes bite on this deal, then I guarantee that they will offer a settlement to this family of no less than $20 million dollars within the week," Toby said with confidence.

"You're sure?"

"You and I won't leave the room without a signed settlement. It's the only way."

"They know they are being used?"

"I talked to the grandmother at length. I outlined our situation. For some reason, she wants to help. She's a good woman. There is no other way to explain it," Toby enthused.

"You really think this is something?"

"Look at their faces! 50 million people will be in tears if this thing airs on Tuesday. We're going to soak this thing for all its worth. In one night, we are going deal them a blow that leaves them reeling for the next two years. I promise you. Let's do it now," Toby said with passion.

Leo turned to look at Margaret. She could see the hope on his face. He gave her a smile. "Margaret, find them. Tell them we want to meet tonight. Set up something outside the White House. I don't want to see them in this building."

She nodded and turned to leave. She could hear the conversation continue, and so she stopped at the door to listen, finding it impossible to let them finish without her.

"We could wait," Leo said to Toby. "Maybe we're moving too fast."

"Wait for what? There is no miracle evidence on its way. You heard Josh. It was a bust. I don't want to wait for this. I want to take the offensive," Toby replied.

"It's not enough, is it?."

"No," Toby said softly. "But let's get what we can, and then move on."

"Toby…" Leo began.

"We talked about it all last night. It is the right thing to do. And I am prepared to do what's best for this administration. I understand what the priorities are. I understand the way things have to be," Toby said firmly.

"Should we alert the troops?"

"We don't get any hopes up, Leo. Just tell them that we're going to do a little negotiating, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's not lying or holding secrets, right?" Toby asked like a kid trying to learn a new thing.

"It's being kind, Toby. That's all it is," Leo assured him.

Toby nodded and settled back while Leo studied the material in the envelope. A wave of sadness washed over Margaret as she stood at the door. She could interpret the nuances of their conversation. They weren't going to have enough to make it right. And yet, there they were, ready to fight to the end nonetheless. It brought her back to her conversation with Steve Werner. He would never understand the courage of men like this, men who were willing to go into battle as Davids against a Goliath.

Donna stopped at his doorway, leaning around to glance inside. He was still stretched out on his couch and still staring at the same page of the briefing memo he had been reading when she had checked on him thirty minutes earlier. She wondered about going in again. He had acted so stiff and remote the last two times she had gone in, doing his best to indicate that he wanted nothing other than his privacy. She could understand and even respect that need in a person, and would have done so if it had come from anyone other than her Josh. She knew him too well. She had almost convinced herself that she could feel his pain and frustration. She knew that more than anything he needed a friend right now, and she wanted desperately to be that for him.

She took a deep breath and decided that she was going to take one more run at the wall, and she wasn't going to leave until it lay in ruins.

"Hey there, big guy," she said as she marched into the room with her sunniest of dispositions. "Are you still working on that South African Trade Memo?"

He gave her an annoyed grunt before hiding his face behind his papers.

"Well, it looks like you're getting a lot done," she said ignoring his mood. "I am pooped. Saturday afternoons at the office are not my thing."

The memo didn't move.

"Yep. I am dead on my feet," she announced. "Say, move your legs over a little so I can rest on the couch a bit."

"Donna!" came a whine from behind the memo.

"There you are. That wasn't so hard," she said patiently as she grabbed hold of his feet and swung them to the ground. The papers dropped away from his face as he fixed her with a glare for a moment before struggling to pull himself up into a sitting position.

"Go home. I don't need you. I didn't ask you to come in today," he said bluntly.

"Such an old curmudgeon you are. None of the girls ever want to believe the stories I tell them about you, you know. They think that a smart, handsome, civic-minded person like yourself would be a dream to work for. People can be so gullible, don't you think?"

"Why do you torture me?" he asked wearily. "Isn't it enough for you that you decimated my life savings this week? That wasn't sufficient. You had to give up your free time in order to commit more resources to my downfall?"

"Yes, my sadistic scheming knows no bounds," Donna replied rolling her eyes dramatically for him. "Although, I do not have much pity on any well educated, single white man of privilege who doesn't have more than five hundred dollars to his name."

"Why are you here?"

"I can't be anywhere else right now. I know some of what's going on, but not enough. The air is so heavy and still around here. It's like a hot summer evening right before a big storm. I just keep waiting for the big clap of thunder." She curled up on the couch as she spoke to him. He could hear the fear and concern in her voice. "Do you really expect me to just go on with my life with all of this going on?"

"I can't tell you things," he returned softly.

"I know," she said simply.

"What do you want from me?" he asked in exasperation.

"Just talk to me, okay," she said gently.

He dropped the memo to the floor and rested his head in his hand. She waited quietly for him.

When he finally spoke, she was startled as if she was actually hearing that clap of thunder. "My friends are in trouble and I can't do anything."

She still said nothing.

"I knew something like this could happen, but I didn't do anything," he said derisively. "They say I tried to warn them, but I didn't do enough."

"Josh…" she said out of concern for his self-degradation.

"Donna, I sounded like a lunatic, like I had lost my nerve, and I had. I didn't want us to have anything to do with those guys. They didn't hear reason from me, they only heard fear."

"You're the bravest man I know," she said in a whisper.

"I let the ghost of Bernie Hanson get to me, Donna. I was spooked, too spooked to be of any use to anyone."

"I don't believe that."

"It's how I feel," he said honestly.

Donna reached over and put her hand on his arm. He started to flinch, but she ignored him. She left her hand there, gently stroking his arm. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke. "I have seen their faces this week, Josh. I've seen Sam, Toby, Leo, and CJ. All of them show the strain of this last week. And every last one of them acts as if they are the one person wholly responsible for this entire mess."

He started to speak, but she stopped him.

"Everyone of you has tried to shoulder this thing alone. Tell me, Josh, this self-flagellation, does it serve a purpose?"

"Donna, you don't unders…"

"Shut up, Josh. I do too understand. This thing has gotten big, people are getting hurt, and you want to fix it. Only you can't figure out how. And so you punish yourself for your lack of omniscience. Case closed, Joshua," she said firmly.

"You know, Donna, you should really set up practice somewhere," he said giving her a knowing look. "You have such a feel for this kind of thing."

"You're just so lucky to have me around, did you know that?" she said with a wink.

Josh took her hand in his and smiled. She moved over and leaned her head on his shoulder. Today was not the kind of day where she gave a damn about boundaries. As she rested there, she wondered if she had come in to give him comfort or to get it. She finally voiced the question she had been dreading all day. "Are they going after you too?"

"No," he said softly.

She lay quietly against his shoulder, and tried desperately not to betray the feeling of relief that filled her body.

Chapter 16

CJ sat back and studied the sky. It was such a bright and beautiful night. The stars shone brilliantly against the black sky, and the moon was large and orange. It fascinated her and for a time she could imagine that she was someplace peaceful and real instead of just sitting in a lawn chair outside the Oval Office where the unimaginable seemed to be a part of every working day.

She ignored the steps she heard approaching behind her, imagining that it was just another Secret Service agent patrolling the grounds. The sound of the voice that accompanied the footsteps set her flying into an upright sitting position.

"CJ, is that you?"

"Sir! Mr. President, I didn't realize it was you," she said in a startled tone.

"Do you live here now?" he asked dryly.

"Sir?"

"It is midnight on a Saturday, CJ. Have we been bombed?"

"No sir," she replied meekly.

"Then why are you here?"

"Well, sir, I don't really know…" she began.

"Oh, so you think maybe I shouldn't know that Toby and Leo went off to do battle with the cigarettes a few hours ago."

"I didn't think you were in the loop on this," she said suspiciously.

"Well, actually CJ, I'm not really in the loop," he said as he leaned against one the great columns of the old house. "I have the dubious distinction of being allowed to know the actions and the consequences without knowledge of the crimes. It's Leo's interpretation of ethical leadership."

"You have spent the entire week with only half a story?" she clarified.

"Yeah."

"I suspect you had a pretty hard week."

"Trust me, CJ, when I tell you that Hell itself has nothing to offer that I haven't already suffered this week."

"I'm truly sorry for you, sir," CJ said softly in sympathy.

"Your week hasn't been any kind of walk in the park either, I would guess," he said in return. He stood there regarding her critically with his hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing one of his innumerable gray college sweatshirts and a pair of old jeans. She smiled at him gratefully, thinking about how she had given up everything to follow this man to the ends of the earth. It was moments that like that so clearly illustrated why she had never questioned that decision.

"I'm worried that there isn't a way to crawl out of this hole," she said finally, breaking the silence she had left in the wake of his comment.

"There aren't two other men on this planet who I have more faith in than Leo and Toby," he said firmly.

I'm not sure that faith and goodness and integrity are meaningful concepts this week," she replied bitterly.

He stood away from the column and crouched before her, taking her hand in his. He squeezed it. "It would be a pity if we allowed the cigarettes to take those ideas away from us. I would imagine that we aren't much of anything without them."

"You are a wise man, Mr. President," she said. "I wish the First Lady was here. She would undoubtedly be a source of comfort for you."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Unfortunately, she's intent on pillaging Europe right now."

"Her trip is going well. I talked to Lilly."

"Did you know she was having dinner with the Pope this evening?"

"Of course. That was quite a coup on her part."

"CJ, her plan is to take the Pope to task this evening."

"Sir?"

"She has some things to say about birth control and the role of women in the church, and she actually plans to say them. I expect to be ex-communicated from the church, probably next week sometime," he said sullenly.

"Do you disagree with her stance on these issues?" she asked carefully.

"CJ, are you crazy? Do you really think she would let me live this long if I hadn't already fallen into line. I have been on the correct side of the fence on these things for years."

CJ tried to suppress a smile.

"I figured that it was always my lot as a good Catholic to overlook the antiquity and hypocrisy of the church. Isn't that what penance is all about?" he said giving her a sly look.

"I'm sure the First Lady will be quite reasonable with the Holy See, Mr. President," CJ assured him, patting his hand in comfort.

"Our friends are going to need our good thoughts, CJ," he said returning them to the conversation that weighed heaviest for both of them.

"Yeah," she said slowly.

I don't know if you pray, CJ, but I do know that our friends need whatever you do use as your spiritual guide," he said holding her hands firmly in his.

"My mom used to say the rosary," she replied in a whisper.

"Well, that can be quite a project. Let's start small. How about a 'Hail Mary' and a few private words to the guy upstairs."

She nodded slowly.

"Let's say it together, okay," he said looking into her eyes intently.

Then CJ lowered her head and joined him.

Toby looked at Sam severely as he shuffled through the bullpen into his office on Sunday morning. Sitting beside Toby on the couch, Leo gave a disgusted shake of his head. Sam lifted his blurry head and noted the two men camped out in his office. He looked away when he found Toby's angry glare. Resigning himself to whatever fate awaited him, he rounded his desk and fell into his chair.

"You sounded like hell on the phone, but I had no idea that the visuals would be even more horrifying," Leo said in the way of greeting.

Sam ran his fingers through his rumpled hair and tried to blink the hazy images out of his eyes.

"You were hung over yesterday too," Toby observed. "You cultivating some type of habit here?"

"There is nothing else I can do. I am watching as everything we have worked for slips away; our integrity, our dreams,…even our lives. How does a person do this?" Sam asked, the agony clearly etched on his face.

"Sam, look at me," Toby ordered. "Look at me!"

Sam found Toby's eyes and stayed with him.

"We don't have time for a lot of handholding here. We are meeting with you before the others for a reason. Do you hear me?"

Sam nodded painfully.

"First thing is this. Last night marked an anniversary for you and you didn't even know it. Last night you had the last drink you are going to have for the next year, at least," Toby said firmly.

"Toby, seriously, I'm just drinking in order to cope with all of this. This isn't anything real or permanent," Sam sputtered in way of explanation.

"Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!" Leo cried in disbelief.

"Sam, you say one more thing in that caliber of stupid, and I'm personally going to put you on the first plane to Betty Ford," Toby said giving him a severe look.

"I'm sorry," Sam said humbly.

"No more drink, Princeton. I am not playing around here," Toby said severely. "You really think there aren't alcoholics who started drinking because they thought they could cope better?"

Sam dropped his head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Toby. Leo, please accept my most humble apologies. I'm an idiot."

"Yeah, Sam, no problem," Leo said quietly. "Personally I pretty sure that you are not an alcoholic, but I think this is a good promise for you to keep right about now. If it gets hard for you, I want my door to be the first one you knock on. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Sam said. His eyes seemed to be gaining more focus.

"Sam, we're all going to survive this thing. Things are going to be different, but we are all going to make it. No matter what they throw at us. The trick is to keep your head up and to never stop fighting," Toby said firmly.

"I feel a lot of guilt," Sam whispered.

That's no good. Your job is going to be to move forward and to not look back. There isn't room for all that other crap. I will not accept anything less out of you. No excuses," Toby said. Sam detected a fever in his eyes. He suspected that this conversation was going to be about much more than just drink.

"What's happening here?" Sam asked anxiously.

"Toby is resigning as Communications Director this afternoon. We have an appointment with The President in an hour," Leo said.

"No," Sam breathed. "We still have time. We fight to the end. You said so yourself."

"I would do that, Sam, if this was just about me," Toby explained. "This is about an entire administration and a mission to the people of this great country. There is no room for me in that equation."

"You're okay with this?" Sam exploded in Leo's direction.

"Toby and I have been up all night talking about this. This is the best thing for The President," Leo said firmly.

"Okay, but we can wait. We can wait until the last possible moment. And if Toby gets arrested, The President can show support. People will see him as a man who doesn't abandon his friends," Sam created frantically.

"Sam, the problem is that The President isn't a man in this country. He is a figure. His humanity will not be appreciated. It will be derided," Leo explained. "Toby has to put some distance between himself and The President, and he needs to do it now."

"This is so wrong," Sam cried passionately.

"We met with the cigarette people through most of the night. We've hammered out a deal. They've handed over the evidence they were going to use against you. You have nothing more to worry about. Plus we got a $30 million settlement for a certain deserving American family. In return, you are not going to put cigarettes on the agenda for the next fourteen months," Toby said.

"You agreed to this? I can believe it. You folded. What happened?" Sam looked like he was close to tears.

"We cut our losses, Sam. It happens," Leo said wearily.

"You're still the chief suspect in a murder you didn't commit," Sam said. "They committed that murder, Toby, and they walk free."

"If I knew a way, Partner, I would be all over it. I just can't get my head around this one. The cigarettes have been in the business of subterfuge and dirty tricks a lot longer than I have," Toby said shaking his head sadly.

"Sam, we're talking to you first for a reason," Leo reminded him. Then he looked at Toby.

"We want you to be the Director of Communications, Sam," Toby said slowly. "And I am not talking interim either."

"We're going to be taking this recommendation to The President with Toby's resignation," Leo added.

Sam felt like he was going to explode. He was overwhelmed with what was happening before him.

"I won't do it," he croaked. "I won't give up."

Toby was off the couch and in his face in an instant. "Stop it, Sam. Everything out of you is 'I feel', 'I need', I won't. Stop it!"

He turned away from Sam for a minute and held his forehead. The room was electric with tension. When he turned again to face his deputy, his eyes were red. "This is about me now, Sam. All my life I have wanted to serve. I was born with patriotism coursing through my veins like it was some sort of genetic anomaly. I have lived for my dreams of what this country can be. I will not be responsible for their death. I won't bring this administration down. I would rather go to prison."

"It's my fault, Toby," Sam agonized.

"And mine and The President's. Leo is also interested in carrying the blame as is Josh. The only thing all this guilt will do is make us all old men before our times," Toby added. "The point is this, Sam. You are being asked to serve right here, right now. I need you to carry out the mission of the Communications Office of this administration. No one else will do."

Toby seemed to be pleading with him at this point. It took a minute, but things started to clear for Sam. He could see a road ahead for himself. It would be a painful and difficult one, but it was also be a righteous one. He looked up at the man who taught him everything about who he should be for his president. This man, the one everyone was afraid of, had taught him more about heart than anyone else ever had. He knew it would destroy part of him to let Toby walk away, but he was starting to understand that this was a necessary sacrifice for him to make.

He swallowed hard as if trying to find a steady voice. He stared straight ahead, finding it too difficult to meet his Toby's eyes. "I give you my word, Toby. I will make you proud." His voice started to break. "I will carry out the mission of the Communications Office for President Josiah Bartlet."

"Thank you, Sam," Toby said in a whisper. He felt behind him for the couch and sat down heavily. Sam looked at his eyes and could see the exhaustion that seemed to be holding him hostage.

Leo stood up and looked at them both with a face weary with the battles of many years. "Take a few minutes, Sam. We have to go meet with CJ and Josh. And then we have the President." With that the Chief of Staff walked away slowly.

Toby sat silently in Sam's office with him. Part of him wanted to talk to him and assure him of his ability and his talent, but there wasn't going to be time to lead him through this. Sam would need to rely on himself, his intelligence, and his sense of decency to get him through the struggles ahead.

Toby stood up, and looked over at his young deputy. Sam was intently studying his desktop. "You're the one, Sam. You're the one I can count on." He wanted to say more words, but it didn't seem like any of them were adequate to the task, and so he left him alone to consider the enormity of the task ahead.

Chapter 17

Bonnie looked at the task ahead of her, and cursed the gods above. She kicked the box in front of her, and folded her arms in frustration. She often wondered why she stayed. Was her happiness really worth the prestige of working for the world's most powerful leader? How could it be possibly worth all this trouble? Here she was at work alone at 10 p.m. on a Sunday night knowing that she would have to return by seven the next morning. If there had been good reasons to stay, they certainly were gone now. They had left with Toby and his many boxes of paper.

She had been brought in by Ginger's tearful voice almost nine hours earlier. She knew the news must be bad. Sam had ordered everyone into the office. They sat around anxiously for most of the afternoon while the men they worked for met with The President.

Donna had shown up, prompted by a phone call from Josh. She had spent the vigil with them, trying to comfort people with doughnuts. Finally Sam and Toby had come into the bullpen. They both looked like men who had just walked a hundred miles. Sam had waited for Toby to talk, but Toby shook his head. He made a hand gesture to Sam indicating that this was his room now, and with that, they all knew what was happening. No one needed or wanted to hear the words.

Toby said a few quiet words and then he had exited quickly. Everyone was too stunned by the news to try and stop him. Sam stood for a minute after Toby left, looking shell-shocked. Then he had shaken his head violently, and started barking orders. Bonnie could see the pain still so clearly marked on his face. She wanted to reach out, they all did, but it became quickly apparent that Sam had closed off a part of himself. She suspected that this was who he needed to be at this point in time, but she hoped that, with time, he would find room for the easy friendliness that so characterized who he was.

Bonnie sighed and looked at the mountain of boxes that now comprised what used to be Toby's office. She wanted to walk away, and let it be somebody else's problem. Let someone else deal with the bullshit that comes with trying to believe in something. Bonnie put her hands on her hips and willed herself the strength to walk away from it all. She had turned down many offers before she had taken the White House job. She suspected that if she left, she would be unemployed for no more than a week.

She had almost talked herself into this when she remembered Sam. She remembered how lost he had looked standing in the middle of the bullpen surrounded by stunned expressions and questions he couldn't answer. It was going to be a hard transition for him. At the very least, he would need a working office. From the shock on his face, she suspected that he had only been given a few hours with which to get used to the idea. Maybe she would walk away at some point, and decide to get involved with something that didn't mean anything to her. She could go home at regular hours and cultivate personal interests. But for now, she had to stay. Sam wasn't going to say it to her, but she knew he needed her. He would need all of them to get through the months ahead.

Slowly she picked up a box, and looked at the files inside. They were part of six boxes of files labeled, 'Toby's projects'. She shook her head at the enormity of Sam's burden, and then decided that she would stay all night, if necessary, to make sure that Sam had an organized office to come to in the morning. After all, she felt it was the least she could do for her country.

Jed Bartlet stood out his bedroom window at the DC skyline. Sleep was an abstract concept to him right now. This was a day in which he had witnessed a man, a man whom he cared for, lay down his career, his freedom, and quite possibly his life for his president.

Toby and Leo had spent the afternoon patiently counseling him on the importance of moving forward, and not looking back. Both of those ideas left him feeling cold and disconnected. In the end, he simply nodded and accepted Toby's resignation. He wanted to fight, but he didn't know where to start. They were both so clear about what needed to happen. His ditch diggers with their dirty hands and their tired backs had done the work. They were merely asking him to sign off.

There he stood, staring out the window wondering what he had been party to. His stomach felt as if it had forsaken all food in favor of the many emotions that needed to be digested. Jed Bartlet looked down at his hands. These were the hands of The President, clean and pristine. Toby was sacrificing everything to keep them that way. He wanted to fight them, but he knew these men. They were good men, and he had to trust them. He had to respect the ditches they dug in order to keep his vision and his mission alive.

He lay awake in his bed and waited. Unlike the others, he knew he could find sleep tonight. In many ways, he felt like he was over the hump. What lay before him was a fight for this freedom, and while it was going to be the most challenging fight of his life, at least it felt tangible to him. The rules of law were ones that he had some understanding of, unlike the rules of the game of which he had just finished. Now there would be choices that would be his to make.

The thing that mattered the most to him right now was that The President was safe and the dream was alive. With that accomplished, his plan was to look forward just as he had counseled his young deputy to do.

He heard the door open softly just as he had expected. The dark shadow of her figure became a silhouette against his door. He said nothing to her, but watched as she undressed, her long, graceful limbs dropping her clothes to the floor soundlessly.

She climbed under the covers and reached for him. His breathing told her he was awake, but she said nothing. She let his hands rest comfortably on her body before she spoke.

"I am going to stand by you, no matter what happens. I've decided," she whispered firmly as her head lay next to his on the pillow.

"I'm a lucky man," he murmured softly.

"We'll fight this thing together, Toby," she said, her whispers growing in their ferocity.

"You are beautiful and strong, CJ, and you have filled my heart with such love. People say that you are the beauty that tamed the terrible beast."

CJ heard a great sadness in his voice.

"This is not over, Toby. I won't let it be. I have strength enough for both of us. You can't give up," she urged.

"I'm not giving up, CJ. I'm moving on," he clarified.

"What does that mean? What it does it mean for us?"

"It means that your duty is to The President."

"He doesn't need me like you do," CJ said as she reached over to touch his face. She began to stroke his beard. Her gesture began an ache in his heart so deep that he had to catch his breath.

"We serve at the pleasure of The President. We don't do it only when it's convenient or easiest for us. Men and women in this country, for the last two hundred years, have left their families behind and have laid down their lives for their country. What we are asked to do is no different," he said with a fervor designed to belie his own fears and doubts.

"We are not at war," she argued with futility.

"Yes we are, CJ. You know we are. This government was just held hostage for a week by a group of men who are legally sanctioned to produce a drug that kills more people than any drug ever has before. Not only were we held hostage, but then they walk away with a promise from us that we wouldn't say a thing about it to anyone. Talk about unconditional surrender," he said shaking his head bitterly.

"You helped Sam and a family of orphaned children," she countered.

Yeah, and next year the rate of nicotine addiction among adolescents is expected to rise another 18%. You know, not only did we screw the play on this one, but we lost yardage. We had much better leverage before we even started this foolishness," he said in disgust.

"Where are you going with this, Toby?"

"I made a lot of mistakes this week with you and with this thing."

"We all did," she offered.

"No one else's mistakes smack of the arrogance of mine. I got too bright and powerful. No one was too big for me. I had the stuff, you know. The Republicans are right when they say that we are too smug for our own good. We are the holders of all that is good and decent and all that other crap. I epitomize the worst of what that is, CJ," he said angrily.

"And the best of what that is," she added softly. She took his face in her hands and looked into his soulful eyes.

"Would you be here right now if I wasn't going to be arrested tomorrow?" he asked searching her eyes for the truth.

She stared at him, unable to escape his vigilant gaze. She wanted to give the answer that wouldn't hurt either of them, but she knew that he needed more than that.

"I don't know," she whispered finally.

"You deserved a partner, and instead you got me and all of the anxieties and fears that go with along with my craziness," he smiled tenderly at her.

"I got the best man I'll ever know is what I got, Toby Ziegler," she said trying to return the smile. She made no attempt to hide the tears that stained her pillow. He swallowed hard when the moonlight caught the reflection of the dampness on her face. He knew that this signaled a capitulation of sorts. She wasn't going to fight him anymore. He was really going to have to say good-bye to her.

CJ…" he began.

"Let's not say it now," she said, choking on her words. "Let's say it in the morning. Okay?"

He said nothing to her as he gently stroked the length of her body. Then he dropped his hand behind her back and pulled her to him. She gave a gasp in relief and searched for his mouth.

Chapter 18

Ten hours later, he sat on a park bench and waited, a small bag on the ground beside him. He wondered if they would let him have his personal things once they got to the station. It seemed sort of silly to have packed anything at all. First off, it looked weak, somehow like he was a little boy getting on a bus to Grandma's house. Second, he didn't expect to be at the station for more than a few hours. He had spent time with Lionel Tribbey the night before and was treated to an amazing display of amateur theatrics emphasizing both his stupidity and the injustice of the situation. He was sure that Lionel was sitting at his desk this very moment burning up the phone lines on his behalf. There would undoubtedly be a very good defense attorney to call when the time came.

Brown, fragile leaves skated past him on the sidewalk as he looked at his watch. Jacobs was an hour late. Toby registered a look of disgust. This thing was going to be torturous enough without having his jailor play around with him like this. When he had called this morning, he had offered to come down to the station, but Jacobs had preferred a neutral location. Toby was too tired to put up a fight about surrendering himself, and so now he sat, waiting for Jacobs to come and get him.

He reached into his coat pocket and found his little 39 cent notebook. There was no point in fidgeting anxiously. He began to scribble furiously as was his wont. There had been no opportunity to talk about his concerns with the Democratic plan to increase Medicare coverage. He began a memo to The President.

"Ginger! I want the memo on Governmental Affairs dated September 30^th. This is the one from the 16^th, dammit!" came a strained voice from inside Toby's office. To further illustrate his frustration, the offending memo came flying out of the office like a missile. Ginger jumped as it landed on the floor in front of her. She rolled her eyes in disgust, and then launched a frantic search for the correct document.

Josh was leaning against the door to the bullpen. He had stopped at the door as the drama was unfolding. The flying memo portion of the scene inaugurated a pain in his temples that would undoubtedly follow him for the rest of the day.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and he looked around to see a very tired CJ standing next to him.

"How's he doing?" she asked quietly.

"He keeps asking for the wrong memo. He really doesn't want the September 30^th one. The October 13^th memo is the one that Leo wants to discuss with him in twenty minutes," Josh said with a weary look. "Ginger's got a look on her face like she might poison his coffee."

"More than any of us, Josh, he's going to need you right now. I can't even imagine the pressure he must be feeling. He needs his best friend," she said sincerely.

Josh nodded his head a little and fixed her with a look. "I still wish you would go and spend the day with Toby."

"Oh, please, Josh, let's not have this conversation," she whined in an exhausted tone. "It's just going make my ears bleed. Okay. So don't."

He was about to further push the issue, when another yell erupted from the office, "Do I have to come out there and find it myself!" Ginger pulled her head out of a file drawer with papers in hand, slammed it shut, and stormed into his office.

Get in there, Josh," CJ said giving him a push. "Do something before Ginger thinks to stab him with the pen in her hand." Josh stumbled forward under the force of her shove. He stopped to administer an annoyed look, but was interrupted by the sound of Ginger yelling at her new boss. He wheeled around and headed into the mix.

Closing her eyes, CJ leaned her head against the doorframe and wondered if things would ever feel normal again. She was still blocking out the rest of her world when a voice startled her. Her eyes popped open to see Carol giving her an apologetic look. "Sorry, CJ, but there is a call holding for you. She says it's urgent."

Toby looked up from his work to see Jacobs approaching slowly. He took in a deep breath, and reluctantly began to pack up his things in his leather satchel. The realization that he was about to be arrested slowly took hold inside his body. His fingers fumbled with the clasp to the bag, and he took a moment to steady himself. He wouldn't allow the detective to see anything other than a man with all of his dignity.

He raised his eyes to meet the detective's, but found that he couldn't catch the man's rather unsteady gaze. While Jacobs stood in front of him, he kept his eyes on the horizon beyond Toby. Toby waited for Jacobs to make a move. The detective shoved his hands in his pockets, and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Toby noticed that the detective was not his usual fastidious self. His tie lay loose and crooked around his neck, and his face was sporting the shadows of a missed shave and no sleep.

"Detective, I've been waiting for you in this park for the last four hours," he said impatiently, determined to keep his pride on this day.

Allan Jacobs fixed him with a weary look. His eyes were glassy and red. Toby was starting to wonder if his arresting officer wasn't drunk. As he pondered the incredulity of this thought, Allan Jacobs spoke and left little doubt to his suspicions.

"Go home," the inebriated man said slowly. "I don't feel like arresting you today." With that, he turned and started back down the path to the parking lot.

Toby sat with his jaw slack in stunned disbelief. For a moment all he could think about was getting up and putting as space as possible between himself and the DC policeman. However, Toby was a man who always had a healthy store of outrage at the ready, and the events of the morning made it difficult for him to keep it harnessed.

Toby scooped up his bag and took off after the retreating detective.

"Hey! Hey, Jacobs! What the hell is going on?" he shouted as he trotted up to the detective.

"Go away," responded the drunk man.

"I sat on a park bench and waited all morning for you to come and destroy my life. You finally show up, slur a few words at me, and then walk off. What the hell? I'm supposed to go sit at home and wait for you to have another mood swing?!" Toby shouted, letting the tension of the last week release through his angry words.

Jacobs looked at him unsteadily. He seemed to be concentrating on staying upright.

"You drunk bastard!" Toby hollered, throwing his satchel to the ground.

Jacobs stumbled backwards at Toby's verbal onslaught. He found support against a tree rooted next to the path.

"What are you doing to me?" Toby demanded.

"I'm never going to get used to the game," Allan admitted. "I have to arrest you. I have no other choice. I have a career, responsibilities, and some sort of oath, I think." His words spilled over on top of one another.

"Don't play with my life," Toby pleaded urgently.

"I'm not much of a puppetmaster. I haven't even been sober since Saturday," he reported with a smirk. "I feel more like one of the puppets, you know. Just like you. I'm just waiting for them to orchestrate my next move."

Toby shook his head in disgust.

"You didn't do it, did you, Ziegler? It all happened exactly like you described," Jacobs said as he slid down the tree and rested his head against the bark. He regarded Toby with his head cocked.

Toby reached down and picked his bag. Without acknowledging the detective, he walked away down the path strewn with the foliage of changing times. He was determined to leave the detective to his self-pity.

At the entrance to the parking lot, he turned his head one last time to find Jacobs. There in the distance he was, still sprawled against the large tree. He closed his eyes and willed himself forward. When that didn't work, he cursed himself, dropped his bag in disgust, and headed back toward the helpless figure.

Chapter 19

Anna Hanson rose up her head from where it had been resting in her hands. "I'm so sorry, CJ. I truly didn't know."

CJ sat across from her in the comfortable Hanson living room. A handsome young man paced the carpet in front of them.

"It's my fault, Mom. You shoulder none of this. Do you understand?" he said stopping his pace to issue this stern edict.

CJ looked up at him and asked gently, "Sean, can you tell me what happened one more time? It was a little muddled the first time through for me."

"I hid a package that came for my mother the day after my dad died," he began.

"He was only sixteen. He didn't understand what was going on," Anna pleaded in his defense.

"Anna, I'm not mad. Things happen. I just want to understand this," CJ replied with more patience than she knew existed.

"Mom, let me tell this, okay," Sean said as he calmed her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I was so mad at my dad. He was a great man, but it always felt like he was great for everybody else. He had not so much time for us. My mom worked so hard to make him happy. I could see her disappointment whenever he didn't show up for meals or family events. It was so hard on her," he explained earnestly to CJ. She nodded at him.

"My mom was in shock about his suicide. It was so overwhelming. I was shock too, I guess, but I wanted to be there for my mom. The day after his suicide, Mom went to the funeral home with Leo to make arrangements. While they were gone, a package was delivered. It was for my mom and it was marked urgent. It was in my dad's handwriting. It was like he was reaching out to her in death." The young man swallowed hard.

"I wanted to protect her. I was angry. A lot of things were going on for me. The bottom line is that I opened it. There was a letter from my dad. It said that he loved her. It also said that he trusted her and needed her to carry on his mission. There was something about that, I guess. I wanted him to leave her alone and let her heal. I hid the whole thing under my mattress. I just wanted her to get better."

"There were papers with it?" CJ asked anxiously.

"Yeah. Memos of some sort, I guess. I didn't read them."

"It stayed in your bedroom for how long?"

"About a year. I forgot about it. Then I ran into it one day when I was packing for college. I felt badly, but I couldn't imagine that it meant anything at this point."

"And so you did what with it?" CJ asked eagerly.

"There were boxes of my dad's papers in the basement. I stuffed it in a box, and didn't think about it again. This last weekend, my mom told me about your visit, and I remembered what I had done," he said somberly.

"Are these boxes still in your basement?" CJ asked breathlessly.

"No, CJ, we got rid of them about two years ago," Anna said.

"Define what you mean when you say, 'got rid of them'," CJ standing at the precipice of madness.

"Well, Bernie had lots of paper. Stuff from work, home, his law practice, there were nearly a hundred boxes. I had them shipped to a storage garage in Maryland," Anna replied.

"I need to see those boxes," CJ said passionately.

"They are a mess, CJ. Nothing is in order. It would take you weeks," Anna said in distress.

"I need to see those boxes, Anna," CJ repeated.

"You don't even know what you're looking for, CJ," Anna counseled.

"Please."

"Okay."

"I want to see them tonight."

"I'll get you the access code to the storage area."

"Josh, get your ass over here," Toby growled into his phone. He was looking at the form of Allan Jacobs who lay flopped facedown across his living room couch, snoring loudly into the leather upholstery.

"Toby! We haven't heard anything all day. I've been trying to reach you. I've had Donna checking the wires for your arrest all day. Did he take you in?" Josh shouted breathlessly.

"No."

"Where is he?"

"Passed out on my sofa. So get your ass over here!"

"What did you do?!" shouted a panicked Josh.

"Don't make me beat the crap out of you, Josh," he threatened.

"Okay! Okay! I'm on my way. He's going to be okay, isn't he?" Josh asked anxiously.

Toby rolled his eyes back into his head. "No, Josh. You don't get here in ten minutes, I'm going to drown him in the bathtub."

"Toby!"

"Would you get your Good For Nothing, Skinny, Ivy League ass over here right now!" Toby screamed into the phone. Josh was about to get a little indignant with Toby's attitude when he was treated to the sound of the phone clicking in his ear.

"We're going to Maryland?" Margaret clarified for the third time.

"Yes, Margaret. We are continuing in the direction of Maryland as evidenced by the many, large road signs you have been seeing," Bonnie said impatiently turning sideways so she could fix her seatmate with a glare.

"I just think it's weird is all. I don't really get what's going on," Margaret said in her own defense.

"None of us do," Ginger added from her spot in the driver's seat. "But CJ said that we would be doing something that might help Toby."

"That's good enough for me," Donna said looking back at them from the front seat.

"And you say that she wanted me especially?" Margaret clarified with a confused look on her face.

"She knows you are an idiot savant," Bonnie said bluntly.

"I know what that means Bonnie," Margaret replied in an irritated tone. "And I am definitely not autistic."

"But you are freakish when it comes to organizing things," Donna said matter-of-factly.

"You are sort of an organizing savant," Bonnie said in correction.

"There are things that need to be organized?" Margaret fished as she struggled to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"There are about one hundred large boxes of paper crammed into a small room, and we need to find a letter and some memos from ten years ago," Donna explained.

"Do we know exactly what we are looking for?"

"No." said Donna shaking her head.

"Are the boxes in any sort of order?" asked Margaret with bated breath.

"No."

"And we don't have a lot of time," Bonnie added.

"I see," Margaret said. She sat back in her seat, staring out the window. Bonnie smiled at Donna. They both knew Margaret would have a solid system in place by the time they reached their destination.

Chapter 20

"You got him drunk?" Leo said, fixing Toby with a glare as he pushed past him into the apartment. Sam followed with Josh bringing up the rear.

Toby made an exaggerated show of looking up and down the hall before planting his eyes on Josh. "Anybody else coming, Josh? Donna? Charlie? Members of the press? Should I run out and buy snacks?" Toby said in a tone saturated in sarcasm.

"They wanted to come," Josh said, shrugging his shoulders as he worked his way past Toby who was standing in the doorway.

Toby followed them in and found Leo prodding Jacobs with his foot. "What happened here?" Leo inquired.

"He showed up at the park like this. Wasn't feeling so good about taking me in, I guess. He was starting to pass out under a tree. I didn't know what else to do," Toby said making exaggerated gestures at the sleeping figure.

"He's not going to arrest you?" Leo asked hopefully.

"Well, not while he's wasted, anyway. To be honest, I don't think he knows what to do," Toby theorized.

"You brought him home," Leo said, shaking his head in amazement.

"Yeah, it's unbelievable. I gotta sober him up, get him on his feet, and hand over my freedom. I mean, Leo, what the hell's next for me!" he said, waving his arms around at the absurdity of the situation.

"Calm down, Toby. We'll figure this out," Leo counseled.

"Josh, do something with him. He's your friend," Toby ordered.

"He's not my friend," Josh denied.

"Talk to him. Help him. Get him out of my living room, for God's sake!" Toby implored.

"I don't know what to do!" Josh yelled back at Toby.

"Hey! Enough! Both of you!" Leo thundered.

"We'll take care of it," Sam said quietly.

"What do you want to do?" Josh challenged.

"You and I are going to get him into the car and take him over to your place. We're going to make some coffee, some aspirin, and sober this guy up."

"Not in my apartment, Sam," Josh argued.

"Yeah, we are. Toby shouldn't have to deal with this right now. We shouldn't even be here," Sam said firmly. Toby was unprepared for the depth of impact that comment had. He tried to maintain an impassive expression.

Aw dammit, Sam. Help me get this corpse on his feet," Josh said as he reluctantly capitulated.

Toby remembered the 39 cent notebook in his left breast pocket. It contained notes for Sam on three major policy issues that he would have to help The President address in the next month. He was suddenly embarrassed that he had it. Sam hadn't asked him for help. He wouldn't presume help if it hadn't been requested. He wasn't the Communications Director. He wasn't even an employee of The President anymore. Technically, he shouldn't even have called Josh. There would be a protocol now. He wouldn't have direct access to these men any longer. It was all too risky for the administration.

Sam and Josh had propped Jacobs upright, and Sam began engineering the trip to the elevator. Toby stood back and watched his former friends and colleagues maneuver the drunk man to his feet and steer him out the door.

Leo stopped at the doorway and looked at Toby. He could see the deep sadness in his eyes. He started to say something, but Toby waved him off. "You guys gotta go now. I know. I'll have my attorney call Lionel when it happens. Just to keep you in the loop."

"Toby…" Leo began.

"I shouldn't have called."

"It's okay, Toby. You're a friend," Leo said giving him a weathered smile.

"Yeah," Toby replied unconvincingly.

"Do you want to talk?" Leo asked.

Not now, Leo. Maybe there will be time for sentiment later. Right now, we all gotta do what we gotta do. Right?" he said softly. Leo nodded in agreement and disappeared down the hallway.

"What time is it?" Donna asked looking up from the box upon she was seated.

"New rule! You can only ask what time it is once an hour," Bonnie stormed. She was elbow deep in a box crammed with paper.

"How are we going to know when we can…" Donna complained.

"Not every five minutes!" continued the bleary woman to her right as she squinted to make out the print on a document under the inadequate lighting of a storage garage.

"Okay, you guys, it's 5:30 a.m.," CJ said wearily looking over the top of her glasses. She was sitting up against a concrete wall, studying a small pile of papers that Margaret had assembled for her.

"I'm cold. I'm tired. I'm dirty. My arms and legs are cramped. And I am due at the office in 45 minutes," Ginger complained.

"You're calling in sick," Margaret said simply. She was all over the garage shifting, moving, and arranging boxes so that she could maintain some order between the boxes that had been searched and those waiting. Margaret had Bonnie, Ginger, and Donna on the front line doing the initial scan through documents. Anything that mentioned the name of a cigarette company, talked about cigarettes, or any known employee or associate of a cigarette company went onto a small pile for CJ to study.

"All of us are calling in sick?" Donna inquired.

"Yup," CJ said without looking up from her work.

"We are so going to be in the doghouse," Bonnie warned.

"Leo's never going to believe I'm sick. After all, I don't get sick," Margaret announced, ignoring the eye roll that Ginger offered as she put another box in front of her.

"We're going to say that we all ate the same thing at lunch yesterday. Voila! Food poisoning," CJ said patiently as she held up a document to the weak garage light above her.

"Sam will never believe that I ate the same thing Ginger did. He knows she eats a whole host of things I wouldn't feed my dog," Bonnie offered. Ginger switched her visual gymnastics to Bonnie's line of sight.

"They'll close down the cafeteria," Donna guessed.

"It's already hard enough to get them to make a salad the way I like. Wait 'til they find out what we did to them," Margaret warned.

"Guys, I am sort of starting to wish I was here by myself again," CJ said letting her impatience peak through.

"Sorry, CJ," Donna said apologizing for the group. For a while, they worked in silence, studying the paper before them for the obscure reference that might mean evidence against the drug companies.

Do you think it will get warmer in here when the sun comes up?" Ginger asked.

"We're inside a building," Donna clarified.

"I know, but I'm thinking that maybe the sun will warm the concrete on the outside which will, in turn, warm the concrete on the inside of the building, thus warming……

Josh stirred from his spot on the couch. He was laying over one end with his head hanging over the edge. The protests coming from his neck, as he lifted it, told him that a headache was going to be the order of the day. He reached over and nudged Sam who was sprawled over the back of an armchair. Sam's head popped up and he worked to orient himself to his surroundings.

Josh looked over to the other end of the couch to check on Jacobs, and found it empty. He sat up with a start and looked around the room.

"He's gone," he gasped.

"What?" Sam replied foggily.

"Jacobs, he's gone," Josh said, his voice attaining pitch.

"Shit!" Sam said, unable to produce anything more eloquent in the moment.

"Time?" ordered Josh as he struggled over his socks.

"7 a.m."

"Crap! There are about seventy things I should be doing right now."

"Our girls will cover," Sam said with confidence.

"Sam, that's a very dangerous thing to call a woman. You do understand that?" Josh was up and heading off to the bedroom for a new shirt and tie.

"I know. I know," Sam said as he fumbled with the buttons to his shirt.

"Coffee?" said a voice standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Sam jumped a little at the sound of someone on the other side of the room.

"God, Jacobs, you're a shit. You know that," he growled in irritation.

"At least, I'm sober. I should get some points for that," he said taking a sip of the steaming liquid. He was freshly showered, his jacket slung over his arm.

"Josh!" Sam yelled. Josh came out and gave a visible sigh of relief at seeing the police detective.

"Have some coffee," Jacobs offered.

"We thought you'd gone," Josh mumbled as he accepted a mug from him.

"I'm about to go."

"Do you remember what you did and said yesterday," Josh said hopefully.

"You can get tired of the hypocrisy and the lies, you know," Jacobs offered as explanation.

"So fight it. You were right to feel what you did."

"I can't walk away from this. Besides, if I do, someone else will just pick up where I left off."

"But you know this is wrong," Josh pleaded.

"And the two of you, politicians no less, have never participated in something that compromised what you believed, I suppose," Jacobs retorted.

"It's a man's life," Sam said in a low voice.

"Allan, we see the struggle you're having. You don't want to do this. I don't think you can," Josh said appealing to him.

"You thought I was drunk because I couldn't do it. I knew that I was drunk because I could. That was my struggle. Now it's time to live the reality."

With that, he put down the coffee mug and walked past them out the door. Josh threw his cup of hot coffee at the door as it closed. He turned away as the shards of ceramic littered the floor.

"Oh my God! This is it! This has to be it! It has everything! Look at it!" Donna shouted as she waved a manila folder filled with papers. Heads from around the cold, dimly lit room jerked up in her direction. A long arm reached over and snatched the folder out of her hands.

Chapter 21

Toby took a deep breath before opening the door. He had prepared himself for yesterday, but the craziness that had ensued with that had unraveled his resolve. He had spent most of the night trying to again steel himself for what was to come.

Detective Jacobs was looking much more lucid than when he had last seen him. Toby ushered him into the apartment.

"I'm going to arrest you, Toby," he said soberly. "I am going to arrest you for the murder of Marla Hendricks now."

Toby felt a heaviness descend upon him. He let out a deep breath and raised his eyes to the meet the detective.

"Do you understand your rights?"

"Yes, I do."

"Don't bother with the bag this time. I imagine you'll be back here in a few hours," Jacobs said in an almost gentle tone.

Toby nodded. Then he looked at the detective and extended his hands.

"I'm not going to handcuff you, Toby," he said shaking his head. Toby swallowed hard with relief.

"I'm ready."

"Why don't you call your lawyer now, before we go down to the station," Jacobs urged.

"You're going to let me do that?"

Yeah, I am. And I'm going to do what I can to keep the media away from this for as long as possible."

"Thank you," Toby said sincerely.

"Go ahead, Toby. Take your time. I'll wait right here for you," Jacobs said as he stood patiently. Toby nodded and slowly headed off into his study.

"We have unconfirmed reports that former White House Communications Director, Toby Ziegler, was brought in by DC police in connection with the murder of Marla Hendricks, a call girl who was found brutally murdered a week ago at the Hotel Amsterdam. This comes only two days after Ziegler resigned from the White House for reasons reported to be personal. Sources state that Ziegler is currently in interrogation with DC police. We will have more news on this breaking story as it develops."

CJ's hand was shaky as she reached over and clumsily turned off the radio. She was still fifty miles from DC with the manila folder on the car seat beside her. She wondered if any of it really mattered now. She pulled the car over to the side of the road for a few minutes until she could see through her tears. Pulling up behind her, her four female comrades waited in their car patiently. They instinctively knew that CJ was not seeking their comfort right now.

"Where the hell is everybody?" Sam shouted across the empty bullpen.

"This Toby thing has got to be hard on them. Maybe they needed to clear their heads," Josh reasoned.

"We've got a country to run," Sam shot back.

"Nothing gets past you, you know that, Sam," Josh said wryly.

Sam didn't respond to Josh. His attention had been captivated by the TV screen above him. The sound was off, but there was clear video of Toby walking to a waiting police car with Detective Allan Jacobs. The report was coming from CNN in front of the DC police headquarters. Josh turned his head and looked up at the television.

Without a word, Sam grabbed his coat and headed for the door. Caught unawares, Josh had to lunge forward in order to stop him at the door.

"Josh, make a hole for me, or somebody's going to get hurt," Sam said in a low voice to Josh who was firmly planted in the doorway.

"Then I would imagine you and I are about to get bloody," Josh said impassively, never breaking eye contact with Sam.

"Everything in me is screaming out the injustice of this thing. I can't sit here," Sam pleaded.

"You have to, Sam. I say so. Leo says so. The President says so," Josh returned with urgency. Then in a quiet voice, he added, "And Toby says so."

Sam sat down heavily in Ginger's chair dropping his head into his hands. Josh stood by patiently and waited for Sam. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at his friend. "If Toby and Leo hadn't extracted a promise out of me, do you know what I'd be doing right now?"

"I know, Buddy. Me too. I kind of suspect I am going to have to make a similar promise in order to get through this mess with my liver intact," Josh said with a sad smile.

"I can't watch it, Josh."

"I can't not."

"I'll be in my office then," Sam got up and disappeared behind his office door. Josh waited until the door was firmly closed before he went searching for the volume control.

Leo peered around the door to the Oval Office. He found The President sitting quietly at his desk with the curtains drawn.

"Sir," he said as he entered. "I need to tell you some news."

"I have a TV, Leo," Jed Bartlet said quietly.

"I'm so sorry. I wished we could said more about this earlier."

"I thought this thing was going to be about Toby's finances or that they had blackmailed him with pictures of a girl, something embarrassing but not deadly. The sons of bitches framed him for a murder," Bartlet said through clenched teeth.

"Actually they framed Sam. Toby tried to fix it, and got caught by the DC police," Leo clarified.

"Am I going to lose both of them?"

"No, we squared the thing with Sam. He's okay."

"I'm coming out in support of Toby," Jed said firmly.

"This would not be a good time for that," Leo counseled.

"Tough shit, Leo! I'm doing it. We're not going to sit by and let this happen," Jed said fiercely.

"You can release a statement that supports Toby's character," Leo reasoned.

"I want him back in this house," Jed demanded, his voice beginning to rise.

"No, Jed, his presence backs us into a corner. People will begin to connect his murder charge to you. It'll be a disaster."

"Get him back here, Leo!" Jed shouted.

"He won't come. He understands this better than even I do. He's going to stay away," Leo said firmly taking a stand.

Jed Bartlet looked at his oldest and dearest friend for a long while. He knew that Leo and his Irish stubbornness were immovable at this point. It filled him with a rage that he didn't care to understand. He started to shake his head slowly. And then he fixed his eyes on Leo again.

"Get out, Leo. I don't want talk to you right now. Maybe later. Right now, I need some space to find my way through this," he said with anger and apology thrown in together. Leo nodded silently and left the room. Jed Bartlet sat in the hazy dimness of the curtained room, alone with his rage.

Chapter 22

Toby sat quietly at the table and considered his surroundings. The walls were bare and dirty, and they seemed more capable of conducting sound than they were of blocking it. There was a large mirror directly in front of him that he imagined they used for observation. It was disconcerting. He had no idea how many people were on the other side of that mirror right now analyzing his every move. He thought it would be hard to keep his composure under these circumstances, but he was finding the contrary to be true. He was so numbed at this point in the process that he was finding difficult to muster up any emotion at all.

This whole thing had already devolved into a circus. There were people coming in and out constantly, whispering to one another, asking him the same questions repeatedly, peering at him like he was a freak show. He did his best to answer honestly and clearly despite the fact that his story was a nightmare of incredulous circumstance.

He wondered where Jacobs was. The detective had begun the interview, but then had been slowly elbowed out when all of the bigger guns had shown up to the party. Toby was unsettled by his absence. He sensed that Jacobs had an understanding of the situation that was not going to translate to his colleagues.

The only two other people in the room at this point were his lawyer and the assistant district attorney assigned to the case. They were in a corner arguing in fierce whispers over the protocol for his arraignment. He could hear their conversation clearly and yet, they carried on the charade of a private aside.

He wondered about Lionel's choice of attorneys. Who had shown up after his call to Lionel was a pale little man with the startling name of Nathan Shenandoah. So far, this guy had presented nothing that matched the flair of his moniker other than an amazing air of mediocrity. He spoke in an annoyingly high-pitched voice, and everything about him was as dry as a piece of burnt toast. Toby hoped that there was something going on behind those thick wire rimmed bi-focals.

Every move that Leo made was analyzed carefully for content by the group of people who were now crowded into his office. If he felt any discomfort with the attention, he didn't show it. Instead he stayed focused on the documents that a bleary eyed CJ had dropped on his desk half an hour earlier.

Around his desk, they sat, stood, and leaned as he studied Bernie Hanson's evidence. Josh and Sam had been summoned to Leo's office for the event, and were treated to the sight of all of their assistants and CJ drooped over the furniture in the room. They all had puffy, red eyes, and dusty clothes. And they carried in a smell akin to a damp basement. Josh had wrinkled his nose when he had first entered Leo's office, and was about to make comment when Donna fixed him with a look of pure danger. Sam had shown a little better judgment. He merely came in and found a seat close to his two assistants.

Other than a few words of explanation of how they had spent the night, nobody said anything the entire time. The pain of Toby's current ordeal was communicated through their eyes only.

Leo finally looked up and surveyed the bedraggled group in front of him. He gave them all a tired smile. "This was very good work. I can't believe that you found this. It's amazing."

"What exactly is it?" Sam said as he tried to rein in his excitement.

"It's a memo and agenda from a retreat that happened eleven years ago. The heads of the four largest tobacco companies appear to have gotten together for secret meetings. These papers outline the outcome of this retreat," Leo explained.

"Anything especially exciting?" Josh asked hopefully.

"They discussed nicotine. From these documents, it is clear that they not only understood the addictive nature of the drug, but they were looking at strategies to increase its potency in cigarettes."

"And it's all clearly outlined in the papers you have," Josh inquired breathlessly.

"Clear as glass."

"This is gold," Josh replied reverently.

"We can use this!" Sam said punctuating the air with his arms.

"It's good stuff. I can understand why Bernie was excited," Leo said in a much more muted tone than his young associates.

"Leo, you don't act very confident," Margaret said warily.

"This is good stuff. It may get us some leverage somewhere," he explained carefully.

"It's too old," Ginger cried in despair.

"No, it's not. Our problem is that it's unsubstantiated," Leo replied.

"I don't understand," Bonnie asked.

"We need someone who was at the meeting to verify that this happened. This is only paper."

"If we take it to them now, it will make them uneasy, but it is no yet proof of anything," Josh elaborated sadly. CJ wondered if it was possible for her to shoulder one more disappointment.

"There must be someone we can push," Sam insisted.

"There's a list of all who were present. Let's take a look and see if anyone stands out," Leo said.

"Leo?" CJ said with a look of despair.

"This is a good thing, CJ," he began gently. "We're going to do everything we can to make this work for us."

"How soon?"

"I think this is going to take us some time. I wouldn't expect any miracles just yet."

"Is he…is there anything I should be doing right now?" she struggled.

"Go home, CJ. All of you go home. Sleep. You all look like you could use a good rinsing. Besides, my office is starting to smell like a cellar."

"Please Leo," she begged.

"Sleep will help, CJ. I promise you. There isn't anything more I can offer right now. Sam is going to do the briefing. Come back when you can see straight," he said gently but firmly.

"I should do the…" she began.

"Forget it. You look like a coal miner. Go home. I mean it." Leo gave them all one last look and then bent down over the document again. Sam and Josh crowded around behind him.

CJ swallowed hard. She wanted to stay and participate. She wanted to be a part of something that would help Toby now. Only they weren't acting like the cavalry, not at all. They were being cautious, so cautious she thought she was going to have to reach out and explain this to Leo with her hand around his neck. She stewed for a few moments more until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Donna who was patting her gently on the back. Donna nodded at her and CJ knew Donna was urging her to scrape up the residue of what patience remained in her. CJ wanted to resist that idea, but she knew it was only real thing to do right now. The other women had gathered around them now, and together, they gently steered CJ out the door.

It wasn't until she actually knocked on the door that Margaret realized that she hadn't really thought this through. A wave of anxiety went through her body and she was turning to leave when she heard the chain on the door sliding back.

She wasn't about to have him see her trying to make a quick exit, and so she smoothed the front of her coat and waited nervously.

Steve Werner opened the door halfway and regarded her out in the hallway. "Hello Margaret," he said with a touch of impatience.

"Hello, Steve."

"I thought we already had our little showdown. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure," he said warily.

"I need to talk to you."

"Okay."

Margaret waited while Steve continued to peer at her from behind the door.

"Are you going to let me in?" she asked boldly.

"Margaret, this is my hotel room."

Well, I'm not an idiot, you know. You have chairs in there, don't you?" she inquired with more than a little annoyance.

He stepped aside and waved her into the room. She stepped in and looked around. It was clear that the tobacco companies knew how to travel in style. She noticed his luggage in the corner of the room. It was packed and ready to go.

"You're leaving?"

"I have a flight in a couple of hours," he replied soberly.

"So I won't take so much of your time," she said firmly.

He gestured toward a chair and she tentatively sat down. He sat on the bed across from her and waited. It was disconcerting to be meeting him on his home turf. She wished she had the time to coax him back to the coffee house.

"I know why you came to see me while you were here," She blurted out clumsily.

"I thought we had covered all of this, Margaret. I wanted to say I was sorry. That's all," he said impatiently.

"You came to me because you're having trouble living with yourself," she continued.

"I was sorry I hit you. I wanted to make amends."

"It was more than that, Steve. I didn't understand what it was until I thought about our conversation in the coffee shop. You don't like what you've become. Maybe you were able to justify it for a while, but it's not working anymore, is it? You need me to be okay with what you stand for."

"Margaret, I gotta tell you. Don't quit your day job, okay. I'm pretty sure that you're not the therapist you think you are," he said sharply.

"I'm not wrong about this," she continued. She tried to stay oblivious to his growing anger. "Is it hard to sleep? Enjoy life? Are you proud?"

"Margaret, it's time for you to go."

"Idealism is not necessarily a fantasy, you know. Your dreams were never impossible. You only stopped believing in them," she said fiercely to him.

He was on his feet and in front of her chair. "Get out of my room now!" he shouted.

Margaret was trying not to panic as he hovered over her. "Steve," she said keeping her voice steady. "You need to back off and you need to do it now."

"You want to tell me to back off. You need to keep your nose out of my life." He stepped back for a moment and let himself catch his breath.

"Steve, you want to believe in something again. Like you did when we were young and used to walk the days long talking about how we were going to change the world," she said softly. She was trying to control her breathing. Everything was happening much as it had twenty years ago when she left his room with a black eye and broken ribs.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Then he shook his head and walked away.

"I go to parties and everyone talks about their kids and their boat and where they are going for Labor Day weekend. I never join those conversations. I don't have those kinds of things in my life. I just listen politely and nod. Sometimes, I know they are feeling sorry for me. To them, I am Margaret, the secretary who slaves away at The White House while they lead active, happy lives. One time, my friend, Martha, said that she invited me to things so she didn't have to think about me sitting at home by myself." Margaret talked rapidly, unsure of how much time she had left.

Werner had retreated to the other side of the room. He was staring out the window.

"I never had the heart to tell her that I actually feel sorry for them sometimes. They tend to hate their jobs. That's they focus so much energy on their personal lives. I wonder what they believe in beside themselves. I'm a part of something. And while it's not everything, it is enough for me. It fills my spirit." She stopped for a minute to settle her breathing. She stayed hyper-conscious of any movement from his side of the room.

"You're empty, Steve. You have a hole in you, and nothing you have done seems to fill it. Even with your fancy cars, beautiful house, family, country club membership. I'm sorry for you," she finished softly. There was no movement from the window.

"There is nothing that can be done," he replied after a moment, still looking out on the city.

"Courage is hard, but it feels right. It would rejuvenate you in a way that no new car ever could."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Don't complicate it with excuses, Steve," she said gathering steam. He was actually interacting with her. "Picture the worst case scenario. You lose your job. You have to move out of your house. Your kids start going to public school. Why do I suspect that these scenarios don't scare you? They probably sound attractive."

"Starting over? My wife would hate it."

"Is living a lie worth the agony? I can see the desperation in your eyes. Steve, I have the medicine. I know what will cure you."

He turned around and she could see that she was reaching him. He walked over and knelt before her chair. "I came to find you, Margaret, because I knew you would understand me. You remembered who I was. I knew you would remind me of what I could be." He was talking softly now, and then he reached out and stroked her hair. She struggled to keep her composure.

"Steve, courage is more than just words."

"Why do you need from me?"

"There was a meeting some years ago. You were there. I saw your name on the agenda. We have the minutes. I just need you to verify what happened at that meeting."

"I need more. What meeting?"

"No, Steve. You come to the White House and look at what we have. Then and only then will you know more."

"I need to think," he said still brushing through her hair softly with his fingers.

"We don't have a lot of time, Steve."

"Stay with me, Margaret. I need you beside me. I don't think I can do it alone."

"Steve," she began, her heart pounding a hole in her chest.

"I can't do it without you," he said breathing into her neck.

"Then you can't do anything," she said fiercely breaking away from him and standing up. "I don't feel anything for you. If you show some courage, I might find some respect for you, but that's all."

He stepped back with a startled look on his face.

"Damn it. Do it so you can hold your head high. Do it because it's right. There is no other reward," she spoke passionately. She was trying desperately to hang onto the small seeds she had planted.

He hung his head and turned away. She wanted to reach out one more, but she suspected that she had gone as far as she could. She had tried and failed. Silently, she gathered up her coat and left his room.

Chapter 23

Toby stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the front entrance. The outside of the door was a crush of people held back by a few struggling police officers. This was the gauntlet he had to face. There were probably 200 news organizations out there just waiting for him to emerge. Who knows how many more were camped out at his address. Part of him wondered if he shouldn't have insisted that they hold him in a cell for the night.

The small, sallow man appeared to his right. "It's all ready. When I get the signal, we walk. There is a car waiting only twenty feet from the door. You're going to keep your eyes straight ahead and answer no questions. I get to be the talkative one."

Toby looked over at Nathan Shenandoah. "How come I get to go home tonight? I wasn't even indicted."

"You will be in the morning. In the meantime, let's just say that there's a little more to my skills than meets the eye," he said in the same high-pitched monotone that he had employed for the entire day.

Toby gave him a startled look.

"Living a life under people's underestimation of your abilities holds its own rewards, Toby. I rarely get through a day without a look of surprise much like the one you just gave me," he said with a droll air that Toby would have never suspected.

"By the way, you're in my custody now. You're coming to stay out at my place. My people have taken the liberty of entering your apartment and getting some of your things for you. You'll be more than comfortable. Lionel's already there waiting for us," he said as he impassively observed the crowd before them.

"You don't consult with your clients on these things?" Toby asked in a tone of incredulity competing with anger.

"Not when my clients sit back and let their world fall down around them."

"I'm not…" he tried to explain.

"Your idiot story needs work even if it is the truth," he said dryly. "Acting like the system knows what it's doing. What in the hell? I thought you were a lawyer yourself. What were you thinking? That's why the system has advocates, you know, lawyers."

"Sarcasm is not your strong suit," Toby observed.

"Believe me, Toby, when I say that you have the ability to push a person into unfamiliar territory," he said with a small, tight smile.

Toby chuckled in spite of himself. "I think that this is going to be the beginning of a long and…"

"…Beautiful friendship?" Shenandoah completed.

"I was going to say twisted."

"That works too."

"Is that the signal?" Toby asked with trepidation as he spotted an officer's waving arm.

"Yeah. Now remember, head up, eyes forward, you say nothing," Shenandoah lectured.

"Christ, Shenandoah. I wrote the book on this stuff," Toby replied impatiently.

"I know, and I read it. And yet, I see a man before me who needs guidance. Are you ready?"

"Do you want an honest answer?" Toby asked giving him a long look.

Shenandoah nodded. "All right then, let's go." With that, he took hold of Toby's arm and ushered him down the stairs to the waiting hoard.

CJ sat in her couch at home dressed in a robe, her hair lying wet upon her shoulders. She had pulled her knees up to her chin, her eyes intent on the television in front of her. A haunting vision was unfolding before her. There he was on the screen walking out the door of the stationhouse. A small man, unfamiliar to her, kept one arm on him. People were screaming things, shoving microphones into his face; the scene, a complex amalgamation of arms and heads reaching out at him.

For a moment, the camera had settled on his face. She had become intent on his eyes; tired and woefully sad. And then he was folded into a waiting car. The video returned to the news desk where various pundits waited for their chance to analyze the events. But she no longer cared what anybody thought about this. She clicked the remote absently at the TV, and rested her head on the arm of the couch, replaying endlessly the video that was seared into her memory forever.

"Leo McGarry?" came a tentative voice at his doorway.

"Yes," Leo said, not looking up from the papers spread on his desk in front of him. The room was dark save one light that illuminated Leo and his desk.

"My name is Steve Werner. I am a lawyer with Brown and Reynolds."

Leo's head shot up. "How the hell did you get in?" he demanded.

"My pass from last week got me past the guards," he said simply.

Leo cursed and reached for his phone.

"Margaret came to see me this afternoon," he said quickly before Leo could complete his call. Leo put down the phone slowly and gave the man his attention.

"She still believes in ideas that I thought were dead in most rational adults," he began.

Leo waited.

"She seems to think a person can turn back time," he said, shifting from one foot to the other.

"You're trespassing on government property to discuss my assistant with me?" he asked bluntly.

"She wanted me to verify the contents of a memo. Wants me to do the right thing. Seems to think that it's all as simple as it sounds."

"Why are you here, Werner?" Leo asked slowly.

"I'm too tired to go home to my beautiful house and family, and then not be able to fall asleep in my own bed. I'm too tired to do anything but come here," he said quietly. "Tell me what you want verified."

Leo stared at him for a moment, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. Then he gave his head an impatient shake and gestured the man into the room. He shut the door and pulled out a chair for his tobacco lawyer.

Chapter 24

"How long have they been up there?" Leo asked the two men next to him. They stood together at midnight in the lobby of the Hilton.

"30 minutes," Josh replied.

"It's hard to believe. I just kept thinking that this envelope was never going to make it," Sam said breathlessly.

"Sam, don't even say crap like that," said an irritated Josh as he punched Sam in the shoulder causing Sam to, in fact, drop the envelope. At which point, they both squealed and pounced on it.

Leo rolled his eyes dramatically before saying. "I should have brought Zoe and her friends."

"What's keeping them? Our offer is a no brainer," Josh said as he began pacing back and forth, keeping one eye always on the elevators.

"They are not about to act anxious around us," Leo hypothesized.

Sam grabbed Josh by the coat. "Here they come."

Eamonn Smith and his lawyers exited the elevator and headed for their group. Smith gave them sour looks as he stood before them. "Let's review the terms then," he said without preamble.

"The man who killed Marla Hendricks is at the station confessing to this crime within the next hour. Our fourteen month plan to hold off on hearings is abandoned. And, in return, we do not release this memo now," Leo said with a steely glare.

"We're not at all sure this little envelope is worth all of that," he replied.

"Okay. We'll see ya," Josh said with a sneer. He took the envelope and turned to the lobby doors. Leo stared at him cryptically for a second, then grabbed Sam, and followed.

"Werner is a crackpot. We'll have him so discredited by the time you get this memo to the media, that nobody will be paying attention," Smith called after them.

Josh wheeled around and headed at him. He didn't stop until he was nose to nose with the most lethal man in America. Sam started after him, but Leo held him by the arm. He spoke in a low, dangerous voice, giving Smith a look that caused him to back up a step. "Look at my eyes, Smith. I will use this memo. I will make it dance and sing for the people of this country. I will eat and sleep this memo. It will be my passion. It will be my mission. It will be my vengeance. Trust me on this."

A silence followed while one of the powerful men in America sought to collect himself. Leo could swear the man was shaking. Finally, he looked up at Josh and nodded.

"One hour," Josh seethed. "A man walks into the 5^th precinct in one hour, or I will stop the presses on all of the major newspapers. You'll have CNN escorting out to your airport limo. Think about it."

Smith gave Josh a look of pure rage, and headed back toward the elevators. His minions trotted after him.

Sam and Leo joined him as he watched them disappear into the waiting elevators. Sam slapped him on the back when the elevators closed. "Man, you were amazing. I couldn't even breath, it was so tense. It was like nothing I have ever seen. It was like…"

"…Bernie Hanson," Leo finished Sam's thought.

Josh dropped his head for a moment.

"You haven't waiting a long time for this, Josh," Leo continued. Josh looked up, his eyes moist. "You've made a very personal enemy tonight. You understand that, don't you? We're going to hold onto the memo for a while. We might need it."

Josh nodded soberly in reply.

"What's next?" Sam asked eagerly.

Leo looked at Josh. Josh caught his meaning and pulled out his cell phone. He put it to his ear and waited. "Allan?…Get your ass out of bed…A guy is on his way down to the station who's going to confess to Marla Hendricks' murder…What the hell do you mean?…This is not a set-up. We got the guy. The cigarettes are handing him over. He's going to be at the station in an hour…For God's sakes, you want this done, don't you?…Yeah, I'll meet you there. Details to follow. Boy Wonder?…Oh, you mean, Sam…I could bring him, I suppose…You're on your way…Okay."

"He was making fun of me, wasn't he?" Sam pouted.

"Not at all. You're really starting to grow on the good detective," Josh said with a big grin.

"Let's call Toby. And CJ. And The President," Sam enthused.

"Nope," Leo disagreed. "Nobody gets hurt anymore than they already are. Let's get this done, and then let's call Toby and tell him that it was all a bad dream."

"Come on, Boy Wonder," Josh said pulling him by his jacket sleeve. "We got work to do."

Leo smiled as they disappeared inside the revolving doors of the lobby. The possibility of a happy ending still existed.

"Toby," came a voice in his ear. It was a struggle for him to wake. The exhaustion of the last week had settled in him so deeply that any sleep was like a collapse.

"Toby, I have some news for you," insisted a strange, high-pitched voice.

Toby forced himself upright. He was still in the massive living room of Nathan Shenandoah. The room was almost cavernous, full of tall wooden beams and stone walls. Everywhere, there were throw rugs and leather couches, a fire still roaring in the stone hearth. Across the room, Lionel Tribbey lay sprawled on a chair, snoring loudly like a bear. They had stayed up most of the night arguing and planning the strategy for his arraignment. Toby had no memory of drifting off to sleep.

"Is it time to go?" Toby asked groggily.

"No, Toby, you're not going," Nathan said excitedly, causing his voice to rise even higher in pitch.

"What? What happened?" he asked trying to clear his mind.

"I got a call from Leo McGarry a couple of hours ago. A man came to the station and confessed to the murder of Marla Hendricks. I just spent the last two hours on the phone with the DA. Toby, the charges are dropped."

Toby blinked wildly at the man. He finally found his voice, " I swear to God, Shenandoah, if this is some kind of joke…"

"Toby, you're a free man," he insisted.

"Oh my God," he said passionately and closed his eyes. Shenandoah let him be with his thoughts for a minute before he spoke again.

"They are going to have a press conference in about an hour, Toby. You can go home," he said with a smile.

"Can I?" Toby asked out loud.

"It will take a while for the public to understand that you were wrongfully accused," admitted Shenandoah.

"I can't just walk back in the front door," Toby agreed.

"The President wants you. That's the word from McGarry."

"My President has lousy timing. That's why he has me," Toby said shaking his head.

"How much time will you wait?"

"I don't know. Things will never be the same, you know. The public will always remember Toby Ziegler as the guy who was arrested for murder and then beat the rap. I'm not sure that I can be an asset to The President anymore," he said soberly.

"It's a tough break, Toby."

"I hurt some people, one person especially," Toby stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. " I think wisdom and experience would tell me that to leave well enough alone."

"Give her time," Nathan said with no pretense of ignorance.

"I can't hurt her again. This last time was too much," Toby said quietly. His deep brown eyes drifted for a moment.

"I am sorry."

"Don't be, Nathan. I'm a free man. This morning, I'll take my victories where I can get them," Toby replied trying to muster up some enthusiasm.

"Should we wake Lionel?"

"And have him put on one of his productions? I think it might be a little too early in the morning for me to have to deal with an excited Lionel Tribbey," Toby said with a grin.

"Good. I have a little something I want to talk to you about. It's an idea that might fill up some of your upcoming free time," Nathan said dropping down into the couch beside Toby. He reached into his pocket and handed Toby a cigar.

"Let's talk."

Chapter 25

CJ saw Josh and headed for him. He saw her coming and immediately began to panic.

"CJ, get away from me. I don't want any more appreciation right now. This last round left me five minutes in the bathroom scrubbing all day lipstick off my face. Plus the last two attacks have me smelling like a French whore," he complained as he tried to fend her off.

"I love you, Joshua," she sang. "Sam told me about your little speech to the cigarettes. You're my hero."

"Yeah, well, he's just trying to divert attention away from himself. He was the real hero. He said all kinds of good things. Go stalk him for a while," he urged.

She merely stood and smiled at him. "There is room in my heart for all of you."

"Great," he groaned.

"I wish he could be here today," she said in a change of subject.

"You know that's not such a good idea, don't you?" he asked warily.

"I know, but it's stupid," she insisted.

"We have to give this a little time. Put out feelers. Get the right publicity out there. Then we'll bring him in," Josh promised.

"Don't rain on my parade, Joshua," she warned.

"CJ," he said. "Come here. No, no, arms to your side. At ease, soldier." Then he reached over and kissed her ever so softly on the cheek. "Thanks for remembering Bernie for me," he whispered into her ear. She smiled at him sweetly.

"Now go away," he ordered. "Go play with the press corps. I know you're dying to rub their noses in this whole thing."

He watched her sail off down the hall intent on a mission of media conquest.

He shook his head in amusement and was trying to remember where he was headed when he was accosted by yet another strong female.

"Joshua!" came an unmistakable voice.

"Yes, Donnatella. To what do I owe this glorious shriek," he said teasingly.

"I was not shrieking," she said sternly as she began to walk beside him.

"What can I do for you?"

"First off, you were very brave last night, and so I will reward you in little ways for the rest of the week. Secondly, the nefarious Betty came to visit me today with the results of the football pool," she reported.

"Did Sam put out a newsletter on the events of the last twenty-four hours or what?"

"Don't change the subject. You were amazing. Sam said. I walk on clouds today because I work for the great and wondrous Joshua Lyman," she said as she linked her arm through his.

"Okay. Sounds right. I look forward to my many rewards," he said with an air of arrogance.

She smiled and then leaned over to pinch him. "That's your first one."

"Listen, Dominatrix Donna, maybe you and I have differing ideas about what rewards should be," he complained.

"Yeah, whatever. Listen, the football pool, I have the results," she said again.

"Yeah, but I'm having a good day. Why assault me with bad news?" he asked.

"I don't know what the results are. Open the envelope," she insisted.

"I'm having a good day, Donna," he whined again.

She reached over and administered another pinch. Josh yelped and grabbed for the envelope. He tore it open quickly and then gave it a glance. He gave it a closer look. Then he dropped it to the ground as he stood there with a stunned look on his face.

She looked at him and then at the paper. Deciding that the paper would tell a clearer story, she dived for it. Picking it up, she began to read. Her mouth dropped until she bore a scary resemblance to her catatonic boss. She threw her head back and yelled, "Bonnie! Ginger!"

The hall froze as a dozen people silently regarded her. She realized that she might be making a little bit of a spectacle, and with red face, she waved them on their way. Bonnie peeked her head around the door to the bullpen. Seeing her, Donna waved for her frantically. Bonnie's head disappeared and then she came out with Ginger in tow.

"Look at this!" she said excitedly gesturing at the paper. They grabbed for it, and, literally, had to wrench it out of Donna's greedy hands. Josh stood off to the side during this whole scene, still in a world of his own.

"Josh won the pool!" Ginger exclaimed.

"He not only beat everyone, but he won $10,000," Bonnie cried.

"This has got to be illegal," Ginger said shaking her head.

"You guys, there are Supreme Court Justices in this pool. It can't be illegal," Donna insisted.

"I won $10,000," Josh repeated to himself.

"You had a little help there, you know," Bonnie said with a dash of indignation.

"I won $10,000," he said again.

"Yeah, you did," Ginger said with a touch of annoyance added to her indignation.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Donna inquired.

"I won $10,000," he responded.

"We heard that part," Bonnie said throwing in some down home attitude.

"Joshua!" Donna scolded.

"Oh! Yes! You guys helped," he acknowledged. The dead stares told him he wasn't even close. "Um, you guys did everything, and I didn't help at all."

"That's about right," Ginger said.

"Well, you know what I think," Josh began in a conciliatory tone. "Maybe we should all go out tonight together. Everybody dresses up. Then we can have a nice meal and decide what happens to my…I mean, the money. How about that?"

Smiles broke out around him. Donna nodded approvingly. There was an excellent chance he was going to go through the rest of the day, punishment free.

"Get reservations, Josh," Bonnie ordered.

"Find a place where they don't have prices on the menu," Ginger added.

"Don't worry. I'll put him on the right track," Donna assured them. Feeling much more at peace, Bonnie and Ginger wandered off, their heads filled with uses for $10,000. Donna gave his arm a squeeze and maneuvered him off to a meeting in the Wilson room.

"Is it true?"

Leo looked up and saw Margaret standing in his doorway with an astonished look on her face. Leo took off his glasses and motioned for her to come in.

"I've been looking for you all morning," he said with an air of amused exasperation.

"This was my morning to be at the Library of Congress to get updates on the new GAO report," she explained.

"Sit down, Margaret," he said as he herded her into the best chair in the room.

"Was it really him? He came to you last night?" she asked, her voice betraying the awe she was feeling.

"You saved the day, Margaret," he said as he nodded in reply.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"The FBI came for him early this morning. Steve understands that there is no way for him to straddle this fence. He's going to spend time with them. I would imagine that they will be debriefing him for the next few months," Leo reported as he sat down beside her.

"Good for him. He's doing the right thing," she said nodding decidedly.

Yeah, he is," Leo agreed.

Margaret smiled at him and then started to get up. "I'll the Harkins report in here for you to look over in the next hour.

"Hold it," he said softly. He reached out and gently coaxed her back into her chair. "I want to talk to you a little bit."

"Oh, Leo. Is about that fight we had last week? I'm sorry. I said things, and I was just too stubborn to apologize about them. But I've thought about it, and I really don't mean any of it," she said rapidly, spilling the words out of her.

"Margaret, stop!" he interjected. "I'm not looking for an apology from you. You were right about some things. I do get controlling with you, and it has gotten worse since Jenny left me."

"You just don't have other places to focus your energy right now," she explained as she patted him on the arm. He reached over and took her hand off his arm and held it in his.

"Margaret, I spent a couple of hours with Steve last night before the FBI showed. He was pretty talkative. He had a lot to say about your visits with him," Leo said slowly.

Margaret looked at him with some confusion. She searched her brain for anything inappropriate she might have disclosed.

"I was curious to know what you had said to him to make such an impression, and he was happy to explain what had happened to the best of his knowledge. He told me that you were so committed to your work and to me. You talked about things like sacrifice and courage. I was your example of those things."

"Are you mad at me about something, Leo?" she asked quizzically.

"No, no, I'm just amazed that you don't see yourself as the personification of those things. Steve told me that he scared you and yet you persisted. With your history with the man, you did this. He said you never strayed from your ideals. You hung in there and fought with him until he folded. And the whole time, you held me up as the paragon of courage," he said shaking his head at the idea. "Margaret, right now, you're my hero."

Margaret gave a gasp in surprise and just stared at him.

"I never appreciate you, Margaret, or tell you what you mean to me. I just take it for granted that you'll always be there. I did that with Jenny too, you know," he said in a sad voice.

"I'm not going to leave you, Leo. That will never happen," Margaret said with conviction.

"No, I don't suppose it will. You'll stay with me and sacrifice yourself for my needs, my dreams, my vision," he continued sadly.

"I don't see it that way. I'm proud of who I am and what I do," she insisted.

"I make you walk two steps behind."

"No, you don't. That's figurative. I was only saying that to illustrate a point."

"Point well illustrated, I would say," he remarked soberly.

She lowered her head for a moment. She didn't want to see him hurting, but she didn't know how to help him with this. She didn't even really even know what this was. He reached over and gently raised her chin to him.

"Margaret, you need to know that you mean a lot to me. I count on you in ways you may never understand. I don't want you to feel unappreciated or less coveted than you already are. You are a treasure," he said softly. Her chin trembled in his hand.

She tried to blink back the moisture gathering in her eyes, but it was too much. Leo saw her struggle and reached in with his other hand to brush away a tear sliding down her cheek.

"Sometimes, I want to think of you as something different than my assistant," he continued. "But I'm too afraid of what that could do to what we already have."

She nodded at him through the tears that now ran freely down her face.

"For right now, you should just know that you have a place in my heart, a very special place. Maybe one day, I won't be so afraid. Maybe one day, I'll live up to the courageous man that you imagine me to be. I don't know. But I do want you to always remember that you exist in my heart, even when I don't show it with my actions or my words."

She swallowed hard and tried to smile in response. Leo reached over ever so tenderly, and kissed her on the cheek. She could feel his craggy face against hers, and it awakened in her feelings that she had never imagined possible. All too soon, he backed away from her, and she let out a deep sigh.

Leo cleared his throat and tried to erase the slightly surprised look on his face that had sprung up out of nowhere.

"Uh,…well, then, the…Harkins memo," he managed to say gruffly.

"It's a report," she said as she busily wiped her face of tears.

"Oh…yes, well, I will need it as soon as possible. We have to get it to the Hill by this afternoon," he explained.

"It's not due until next week," she said matter-of-factly.

"Well, dammit woman, who do you think is the Chief of Staff around here? If I want to send it today, I will," he blustered ineffectively.

She grinned at him as one who knew him better than anyone else. He gave her a glare that she heartily ignored.

"You'll have it in an hour and not a minute sooner," she said as she got up and straightened her skirt. She walked out of his office with a perplexed but pleased look on her face. Leo's face wore an expression that was at least as complex. He tried to get his head to clear itself of the many thoughts he was having. He knew better than to try and sort out the emotions that flooded his gut. Leo gave a deep sigh and hoped he had done the right thing. Keeping her at arm's length had always been the right strategy, but his conversation with Werner had convinced him that she deserved to know his heart. He prayed that it wouldn't eventually destroy what he already held so dear.

Chapter 26

"Hey you two! Wait up!" CJ called as she trotted down the hall after them.

"You need to be more specific regarding The President's stance on foreign aid to the Russian government. It still sounds like The President is suggesting that we send arms to aid them against the rebels," Josh delivered in greeting to her as she moved up alongside of them.

"Thank you, Josh. I'll file that in my "no shit" folder," she replied in an irritated tone.

"I thought you did a nice job at the briefing," Sam added as a peace offering.

"Whatever, Sam. I flubbed the statistics on guns and completely screwed up the answer on tax cuts to middle income families. Plus the little thing that Josh was so kind to blurt out in public," she said with a sour look on her face.

"What's wrong with you?" Josh asked impatiently.

"Oh, I don't know. I just led the major news organizations to believe that middle income families are going to get an 18% tax cut instead of an 8%, I accidentally told USA Today that The President hates Mexican food, I'm throwing up every morning, and nobody will talk to me about getting Toby back into the White House," she said, wearing an exasperated expression.

"Calm down, CJ. We've had a rough couple of weeks. Things are just getting back to normal," Josh urged.

"You're throwing up every morning?" Sam clarified.

"He should come back," she said softly.

"It's only been a week," Josh replied. "The polls say we're not ready. 45% of all Americans still think there are questions left unanswered about his involvement in her murder. Give it some time. Besides this is good for him. He needs the rest."

"Do you have a fever?" Sam inquired persistently.

"Do you hear from him? He doesn't return my phone calls," CJ's eyes looked haunted.

"He's been in New York. That's all I know," Josh replied.

"I know there was a virus going around in the National Security office. Have you been hanging out with those guys?" Sam suggested.

"I just want to know that he's okay," she said in a voice filled with concern. "And I want him to know that we support him."

"I've left him messages myself, CJ. Trust me when I say that Toby Ziegler will be back," Josh assured her.

"My mom always used to give me saltines and 7-up. Have you tried that?" asked Sam seemingly unaware of his place in this conversation.

"He won't talk to me," she said.

"Let him heal a little. I can't even imagine the torture he's been through. Give him some time," Josh counseled. He gave her arm a supportive squeeze.

"I hope that helps," Sam concluded.

"With what?" CJ inquired as she acknowledged Sam for the first time.

"Your flu?"

"Oh, yeah, that. Thanks," she said with a strange look on her face. She stopped as if trying to remember something else, but when nothing came, she gave them a shrug and headed back down the hall.

Epilogue

"I love Saturday morning meetings in the Oval Office," Josh announced sarcastically as he strolled in looking for a place to collapse.

Leo gave his President an eye roll. Neither one of them felt much like tackling a surly Josh Lyman this early in the day. CJ followed him into the room. She started to greet The President when her stomach lurched. She thought better of it, and hurried out of the room.

"What the hell was that?" Leo asked aloud.

Sam had made room for her as he was coming into the office. "She seems to have some sort of virus. She's blown every morning this week. It really is a persistent bug," he informed them knowledgeably as he moved past.

"Did he just say what I think he did?" Jed inquired in an aside to his friend.

"Yeah," said Leo slowly with a worried look growing on his face.

"As the father of three children, you know that I have heard similar stories before," Jed said as he let out a mouthful of air.

"I've stepped into that arena, myself, you know," Leo grumbled in a low voice.

"Sam doesn't seem to get it."

"He can't be that much of an idiot," Leo replied in a low tone as they regarded Sam's naivete.

"Are you going to talk to her?"

"Are you nuts? I'm not touching it with a ten foot pole!" Leo exclaimed in an excited whisper.

"Well, you don't think I'm going to say anything, do you?" replied The President with big eyes.

"What are we going to do?"

"What is it you alcoholics say? Oh yeah. Let's just take this one disaster at a time," Jed said firmly.

"Close enough," Leo said offering his President a glare.

"Shhh!" Jed hushed him as CJ re-entered the room, this time with a plastic smile pasted on her face.

"Okay, everybody!" The President said as soon as they were all seated. "I know it's early on a Saturday, but I need to share some news with you."

They all exchanged puzzled looks. Leo had led them to believe that they were having a staff at 7 in the morning because of The President's schedule. The look on Leo's face indicated that he had thought the same thing.

"I know you thought we were going to talk about the trade bill, and we will, but I had a call last night, and we should talk about that first," Jed said cryptically.

"What's going on, Sir?" Josh inquired with some impatience.

"Toby called me last night. We talked for a good, long time," The President replied.

"Is he okay? Nobody's talked to him in a week," CJ said with a look of relief on her face.

"He's been through a lot. I can still hear the strain in his voice."

"Do you want to go ahead and bring him back? If there are opinion problems, I say we bring him back and ride it out," Leo said with conviction.

"Have any of you heard of Nathan Shenandoah before?" The President said ignoring Leo's statement.

"No. I was surprised that Lionel came up with him. I was expecting Toby to get a much bigger name," Josh said.

"I was surprised too. I did a little checking on him. It turns out that Shenandoah is actually quite a big name in the public service field," explained Jed.

"I've never heard the name of Shenandoah in politics before," said Sam with a confused expression on his face.

"Not government service, Sam. Shenandoah is a big name in the non-profit field, international relief organizations and the like."

CJ started to feel something in her stomach again. It felt different than the nausea that had been plaguing her. It was a feeling of unease that seemed to grow with each statement The President made.

"The whole Shenandoah family has been involved with good works for generations. Are you sure none of you have ever heard of the Shenandoah name?" Jed inquired again.

"Rupert," Leo blurted out. "There was a Rupert Shenandoah in the news a month ago. Headed up a relief organization. Was in Chechnya trying to negotiate with rebels."

"Rupert Shenandoah is Nathan's little brother," The President informed them.

"Yeah, I remember. He and a group from his organization were trying to negotiate the release of a soccer team of girls that had been taken hostage by the rebels. Young girls, in their teens, I think. The rebels were calling them, 'martyrs to the cause' or something like that," Josh added with a strange look on his face.

"It was craziness. Chechnya is the most unstable address on the planet right now. Most of the international organizations won't go in there right now. Too many people disappear," Sam said.

"If I remember correctly, that's what happened to Shenandoah. He and his group made a trip into the interior and disappeared," Josh said straining to remember the details.

"Their bodies turned up a couple of weeks ago, I think. We got too immersed in the cigarette nonsense to take much notice. I seem to recall that they had been tortured," Leo said adding yet another piece to the growing puzzle.

"Sir, begging your pardon, why are we talking about the Shenandoah family right now?" CJ asked with a great deal of trepidation.

"Toby's not coming back," he began. "Not now at least."

"Why?" CJ's question came out in a whisper.

"Toby called me from Wiesbaden, Germany last night. He was getting on a plane to Moscow. This morning he should be on his way to Chechnya. He's taking over negotiations for Rupert Shenandoah," The President said in quiet voice. The room around him got still as everyone tried to digest what he was saying.

"You didn't stop him?" CJ asked like a woman betrayed.

"At first I tried, but he was very determined. He's not ready to come back. He's been through too much."

"Couldn't you see that he was in no position to make decisions like this? He's in so much pain right now. This is a suicidal thing. Can't you see that?" CJ cried in angry tone. She had forgotten where she was sitting and whom she was talking to. Josh reached over and tried to calm her.

"Toby has no business going to a place like Chechnya," Leo said expressing his own feelings to his President.

Nathan Shenandoah thinks that Toby is just the man to talk to the rebels. They need somebody with courage to spare," Jed Bartlet explained. "Toby has lost himself. He feels like mistakes he made were the stuff of arrogance and carelessness. He needs to get grounded. He needs to find a way to believe in himself again."

CJ tried to fight the tears that threatened her eyes. She didn't want her heart to be on such open display. Josh sat beside her, holding her hand. He didn't know what else to do for her.

"I don't like it," Jed Bartlet continued. "I think it is risky, but Toby has bought in. He sees these girls in his head. He wants to bring them home. Last night I heard more of the old Toby than I have in the last year. He's a man on a mission. He wants to believe in things again. I can't argue with that."

"When will we know?" Sam asked awkwardly. Then he rethought his question. "Can we keep tabs on him? Communications is notorious in that region."

"I don't know, Sam. Communications are a problem. The UN has had a devil of a time getting anything to work for very long. Land is changing hands on an hourly basis right now."

"Can we send…" Sam began.

"No, we can't, Sam. Our position on this conflict is very clear. The UN has a mandate for this region," Jed said firmly.

The room fell into a stunned silence. Jed looked around the room and saw how connected his team had become. They had been through everything together, sharing a singular, driving vision for the future of this country. They had sacrificed every thing toward that end, and in the process, they had become a family.

He cleared his throat to get their attention again. "Toby should have said good-bye. He knows that, but he's a little lost right now. He's having a little trouble reaching out to all of us. He promises that he will be careful, and he urges all of you not to worry."

Josh gave a snort of disbelief. The President knew Josh would deal with this from a place of anger as he did with so many things.

"He wanted me to pass on a few more things as well," continued The President. He leaned against his desk with his arms folded. "Sam, he wants you to stop using your head all of the time, and start using your gut. Josh, he wants to stop using your gut all of the time, and start using your head."

Leo grinned in spite of himself.

"Sam, he also wants you to know that he's very proud of you. He knows you're going to do an excellent job. And if you don't he's going to kick your ass when he gets home."

Sam took a deep breath and managed a weak smile for his President.

"Leo, he wants you to know that you just have to say the word, and he'll follow you to the ends of the earth."

Leo shook his head and looked at the carpet.

"CJ, he didn't have a message for you. He told me that you already know everything that resides in his heart."

CJ looked away. Josh could feel her hand trembling in his and clasped it tighter.

"I don't have anything else right now. Let's take a break, okay," he said softly to his stunned team.

As they filed out, he reached for CJ's arm. "Please stay," he requested.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President," she said with her head hanging. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

"Oh, hell. Why should you be any different from all the other women in my life?" he said treating her to his infamous charm.

He motioned for her to sit beside him. "Please know that Toby is absolutely nuts over you. And you know him. He has to go through his annual 'I'm no good for anyone' craziness. He'll be just fine," he assured her.

She nodded at him. She could think of no words that served as adequate response to what she was feeling.

"We'll pray for him. Like we did last week before the harvest moon," he said gently holding her hands in his. As she bowed her head, another wave of nausea hit her and she winced.

"You okay?"

"I have a little bit of the flu or something," she said uncomfortably.

"Yeah, CJ," The President said in an equally uncomfortable tone. "About that virus….