Please see Chapter 1 for general info and disclaimers.

*~*

"Blagghhh!"

Toby glanced up from his laptop and scanned his room for the source of the odd-sounding noise he'd just heard. With the exception of a teetering pile of books stacked haphazardly in one of his armchairs, his office was the exactly the way it had been since yesterday. He tilted his head to the right and checked to see if the sound had come from his bullpen. Even though it was eight o'clock at night, the Communications Bullpen was still a flurry of activity. He saw Ginger zoom past his door and Bonnie return from the mess precariously holding four cups of coffee with her two hands. Nope, everything looked normal enough to him. He'd just returned to reading the contents on his computer screen when his train of thought was interrupted once again, this time by a strangled cry of "Fuaiieghst!" He didn't have to seek out the source of the noise this time for the source came to him in the form of Sam…or what looked like Sam.

With his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie hanging loosely around his unbuttoned collar, and his hands clenching an assortment of papers, Sam appeared in his doorway babbling what Toby at first thought was nonsense. "I can't do this, Toby. I just can't. I mean, I can multi-task with the best of them, but I don't think I can do this. I've got rebuttals to compose, position papers to read, lists of questions to put together, a statement to write – and I don't even know if the First Lady's going to be there tomorrow night so that means I'm going to have to write two statements – and I've lost the ability to form complete sentences. I just wrote down the phrase 'on the flip side.' On the flip side! Oh my God, Toby, I think I'm having a nervous breakdown."

Toby stared at his deputy in dumbfounded silence. He'd seen Sam act loopy before, especially when he'd had too much to drink, but the look of utter panic that currently filled Sam's eyes frightened Toby more than he wanted to admit. "First of all, Sam, breathe," Toby ordered with a strict voice in the hopes of snapping Sam out of whatever spell he was trapped in, "because if you faint in my office, I'm not gonna give you CPR."

The insult appeared to work as Sam blinked a few times before entering the room and collapsing onto Toby's couch. "Your concern's utterly overwhelming."

"What's going on, Sam?"

Sam exhaled loudly and smoothed back his hair. "There's not enough time, Toby," he announced somberly. "There's so much to do, and there's…there's just not enough time to do them in. I've been in meetings all day, trying to stay focused, trying not to reveal that things aren't okay, but all I could think about was how I had no idea how that statement was gonna get written and how that list of questions was gonna get put together. I've been in my office for the past hour trying to get started on that statement, but my mind's been all over the place. I thought, at first, it was because I was tired, but I now know that it's because the only thing I can think of for him to say when he goes on the air is, 'You know what? I'm a complete bastard, and that's why I shouldn't be the President of the United States any longer.'"

"Sam…"

"No, Toby, I'm serious. He screwed us over again. He stood there in the Oval Office and promised us that there were no more secrets, that his MS omission had just been a case of bad judgement on his part. He stood there and lied to us. It's like this whole summer meant nothing to him."

"Sam…"

"I'm just…I'm tired of it all. I don't think I can do this, Toby. I'm sorry." Sam looked up at his friend and mentor with large sorrowful eyes.

"Sam, it's okay." Toby strode over to his couch and crouched down in front of him. "I shouldn't have put all this on your shoulders. Why don't you handle the statement and I'll take the list? If you get stuck, let me know and we'll swap assignments. Everything'll be okay."

"Toby, that's not what I was—"

"Sam, take the statement." Toby's words were firm but also kind.

Sam hesitated for a moment before saying, "Okay."

"Good."

"But I still need to know if the First Lady's going to be there tomorrow. If she is, then that's one statement, but if she isn't, then that's an entirely different statement. I need to know."

"Okay. I'll try to find that out for you."

Sam sighed again, but rose to his feet and rubbed his exhausted eyes. "So, I'll work on the statement and you'll work on the list?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." As he started to exit the room, he turned back around to ask, "Toby?"

"Yeah?"

"I can usually handle the pressure, you know."

"I know." Toby gave Sam a small smile that was a combination of chagrin and encouragement. "Go on, get outta here. But don't hesitate to ask me for help if you get stuck. We're in this thing together."

"Okay. Thanks."

"No problem."