JUSTUS, JUSTITIA, JUSTICE!
PART I
The head of the Communications Director, Toby Ziegler, appeared from his office, emerging into the bullpen of the Communications Department.
"Ginger!" he bellowed. "Ginger!"
"What?" the indignant red-haired aide asked him.
"You seen Sam today?" (he was talking about his underling, Sam Seaborn).
"He's not arrived yet."
"He's not arrived? It's 8.30. He told me yesterday that he would be here 7.30 at the latest. I should have known! So help him when I get my hands on him."
"Calm down, Toby! There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation." Ginger attempted to appease.
"And I shall very much look forward to hearing that explanation when Mr. Seaborn comes to see me in my office, directly on his arrival." With that, Toby's head withdrew, back into his office, followed in quick succession by the loud bang of the door slamming. Ginger stood looking on.
"I don't think I'd like to be in Sam Seaborn's shoes later on." Ginger said quietly to herself.
X ~ X ~ X
8.57am EST
A whirlwind in the guise of Sam Seaborn whizzed through the Communications Bullpen, punctuated by the loud slamming of the door to the young man's office. On his way past, Ginger had attempted to tell Sam that Toby wanted him to go straight into his office, Sam's mind however, was evidently focussed on the sanctuary of his office, so much so that he completely disregarded her.
"Ginger!" Toby shouted from within the confines of his own office. In response Ginger opened the door and stuck her head into the room, almost an inversion of the occurrence earlier that morning.
"Yes Toby? I did try and tell him that you wanted to see him, but he didn't seem to take much notice of me. Would you like me to go get him for you, tell him that you want to see him right now?"
"Oh no, Ginger." Toby said dangerously. "That's quite all right. I'll get him myself." Toby set a grim look of determination on his face, reached for his ball and started hurling it at the partition between his and Sam's offices, whilst Ginger ducked out of the room, grimacing. There was no response from Sam, despite the repeated 'thud, thud'. Usually, that would be sufficient to summon his deputy at break-neck speed, that day it provoked no response whatsoever. To say that Toby was displeased was correct to a degree, it was however about as proportionally accurate as saying that the ocean is larger than a flea. Toby deliberately rose to his feet, marched to his door and through it, passed an astonished Ginger, and flung open the door to his Deputy's office.
It was dark in the room, so dark in fact that all that could be seen was Toby's silhouette back lit from the bullpen, creating a daunting shape in the doorway,
"Sam." He began quietly. "You've managed to find your way in at last, I see. If I'd known how difficult you found it to locate the building, I would have bought you a guide-book or found you a city pamphlet, I mean, the White House is in all of them, and it's not as if it's signposted or anything."
"Toby, do you mind? I'm a little busy right now. I have a thing to do for Leo before staff." The man kept his face down, hiding his chiselled good looks.
"You have a thing?" Toby's voice was very low and very dangerous.
"Yeah. I have a thing."
"A thing. What thing, Sam?"
"It's a thing."
"Well, how are you going to be able to do your 'thing', with all the lights off?" Toby flicked the light switch, illuminating the previously dark office. Toby saw Sam clearly now, sitting behind his desk, his chin resting cupped in his right hand. Sam blinked his eyes, a natural response to the sudden brightness of the room. Toby was shocked. "Sam, you look like hell. You look like you've been run over by a truck."
"Funny you should say that. That's pretty much how it feels." His dishevelled looking deputy said with a bitter, wry smile. The young man's usually immaculate appearance was no longer so. His shirt was creased and his hair in disarray. Sam shuffled some papers that sat in front of him on his desk and then reached pointedly into his inside jacket pocket, almost entirely disregarding Toby's presence. "Dammit!" he exclaimed.
"Sam?" Toby's tone remained low.
"My glasses. They broke. Man, my head will really be killing me by the end of the day if I don't use them."
"What happened to your glasses, Sam?"
"I told you. They broke."
"They broke, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Before I get round to asking you how you broke them not to mention why the hell you're so late, I think I should perhaps advise you that now might be the ideal opportunity for you to get out the spare pair that you keep here."
"That Toby, is an excellent idea." Sam complied with the sage recommendation, leaving the papers that, until then had held his attention. Swivelling his desk chair so that his back was to Toby. He leaned forward and reached down to the drawer.
As he was leaning down, Sam felt a sharp pain pierce his head and felt a surge of nausea. In response to this, Sam lifted his right hand to his temple until his equilibrium had righted itself and the feelings of nausea had subsided.
Toby stepped closer.
"Everything alright, Mr. Seaborn?" Toby sneered. "Now is not the time for hypochondria. Especially as you have 'a thing' to do before staff." He added.
As Toby stepped around the desk, he quickly caught a glimpse of Sam's shirt, which until that moment had either been facing away from him or hidden by the back of his chair. His brow furrowed as he focussed on the collar of the younger man's shirt.
"Sam, you've got something on your shirt collar, unless of course you've started to buy shirts with decorative collars. I get the feeling though, that isn't your style. Josh, I don't know, you? No way." Toby's voice became filled with concern for his Deputy. "You want to tell me how it happened, Sam?"
"Huh?" Toby gently placed his hand on his deputy's shoulder, as he leaned in closer to take a look at the provenance of the "pattern".
"The blood, Sam. The blood. How did it happen?"
Sam momentarily looked confused, he then cautiously raised his left hand to the back of his head. When he removed it and brought it down to view it was stained red, and felt warm and sticky.
"Sam?" Toby prompted him, perching himself on the edge of Sam's desk. "You hit your head?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
"What?"
"How Sam? How did you hit your head?"
"I didn't hit it."
"You just said you did."
"Well I didn't. A blunt object did."
"A blunt object? Sam, I'm not even going to pretend that I understand what you're telling me."
"Something blunt and heavy impacted with the back of my head, Toby. Case closed?"
"No! The case most certainly is not closed. How did your head and a blunt object end up colliding, Sam?" Toby's patience was really being stretched now, but he knew that he had to get to the heart of the problem.
"Someone used it to hit me with."
"Why'd someone hit you Sam?" The younger man's hands began to tremble, slightly as if weighted by the blood at which he was staring most intently. "Sam?" Toby looked at him, now incredibly concerned, then he turned towards the door. "Ginger!" she appeared.
"What now, Mr. Ziegler?"
"Ginger, go find Josh. Tell him to get over here and that it's an emergency. Then get a cup of sweet, hot tea."
"Why?"
"Just do it." Toby said, wearily. He turned his attention back to his young deputy. "Why did someone hit you Sam?" Toby's voice was very quiet and gentle now, a marked contrast to the low and dangerous tone that he had used so readily earlier.
"So they could mug me Toby. Two guys mugged me." Seaborn blurted out. "I have just become an integral part of the victims of street crimes statistics!"
"My God! Are you all right?" Sam shot Toby a 'what-do-you-think' look. "OK." Toby conceded. "That was a stupid question."
"Toby?" A head of unruly hair attached to a wiry frame raced through the door and into Sam's office. "Ginger told Donna that it was an emergency." Toby shifted his position to enable the newly arrived figure of Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff, to see Sam, who was sitting in the chair looking rather dazed and a little pallid, his hand once again at his temple.
"Sam? Toby, what happened to him?"
"Says he was mugged by two guys."
"He was mugged? You were mugged. Aren't we supposed to have done something about that? If not, we should. Perhaps we should talk to Leo." Toby cleared his throat in an attempt to end Josh's rant. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Are you all right? My God. You're bleeding." He said, eventually noticing the red stains.
"Nothing gets passed you, does it Josh?"
"Why's your head bleeding?"
"Someone hit him, Josh."
"With what?"
"Something not entirely dissimilar to your level of tact."
"Huh?"
"Blunt, Josh. He means blunt. Anyhow, do you two mind. I am still in the room, you know."
"God. Yes. Sam, what happened?"
"Haven't we been through this all already?"
"I was mugged Josh."
"What did they take?"
"My wallet, my watch, my cell phone and my brief case, complete with laptop."
"I bet they thought that they'd struck gold."
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You get hurt other than the knock on the head?"
"They held a blade to my throat, then they hit me on the head, which you know about, and then, whilst I was down, they kicked me in the stomach a couple of times."
"My God, Sam. Are you alright?"
"I was mugged, Josh."
Toby growled.
"You really should go to the hospital. Get that head checked out."
"I'll be fine, Josh."
"You know, Sam. Much as it pains me to say it, he's right and actually having to admit that, as you know, goes very much against my principles."
"You reported it to the police?"
"No. You think I should?"
"Yeah."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Sam, give the damn police a call."
"Now?"
"No, after the mid-terms. Of course now!"
"Can't I do it after staff?"
"Look, we'll give the police a call, go to staff, find the First Lady and get her to check out your head, that will be quicker than going to the hospital, anyhow, and by the time all that's been done, the police will be here, you can make your statement, and it will all be over and done with."
"Here's the tea you wanted, Toby." Ginger said as she came through the door and handed it to the Communications Director. He in turn, knelt down in front of Sam and held it out to the young man. He took it gratefully, his hands still trembling a little.
"Drink this Sam, it'll help." Toby instructed. Sam lifted it to his lips slowly and began to drink, but the cup had to be steadied in the young man's shaking hands by Toby. While this was taking place, there was the sound of Josh's voice as he spoke on the phone to the DC police. Sam drained the cup full. Toby was right, it had helped, a little at any rate. Josh, hanging up the phone, said:
"All done. They're sending someone over. They should be here in about an hour."
"Good." Toby affirmed. "Now, alas, it's rime for staff. Think you're up to it, Sam?"
"Yeah. I can't just spend the day sitting here." He made to get up, but was unsteady on his feet, so Toby looped his arm around Sam's waist to provide support until he had regained his bearings and righted his balance.
"OK?"
Sam nodded.
Neither Josh nor Toby wanted to crowd the young man, knowing how independent he was, so they took a step back as Sam began the journey from the back of his desk. On completion, Josh placed himself at his best friend's side, whilst Toby strategically filtered to the back, just in case anything untoward happened as they walked through the halls of the White House. They walked slowly but surely along the halls until they reached their destination: Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry's office.
"We O.K. to go in, Margaret?" Josh asked Leo's aide.
"Sure guys, in you go." She responded.
"Oh, and Margaret," Toby added, "when you see Donna and all the other aides, as doubtless you will during our meeting, then please quash any notion that she may have that something is wrong."
"Is anything wrong?" Toby shot Margaret a look that could, were looks able to kill, have wiped out a small country with ease and poise. Wisely, Margaret decided not to probe further.
The three entered Leo's office and headed straight to the couch, where they sat themselves; Sam in the middle while Toby and Josh sat one either side of him. Leo was standing behind his desk waiting for the group to settle. Press Secretary, C.J. Cregg was already seated in a comfortable armchair when the other staffers arrived.
PART I
The head of the Communications Director, Toby Ziegler, appeared from his office, emerging into the bullpen of the Communications Department.
"Ginger!" he bellowed. "Ginger!"
"What?" the indignant red-haired aide asked him.
"You seen Sam today?" (he was talking about his underling, Sam Seaborn).
"He's not arrived yet."
"He's not arrived? It's 8.30. He told me yesterday that he would be here 7.30 at the latest. I should have known! So help him when I get my hands on him."
"Calm down, Toby! There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation." Ginger attempted to appease.
"And I shall very much look forward to hearing that explanation when Mr. Seaborn comes to see me in my office, directly on his arrival." With that, Toby's head withdrew, back into his office, followed in quick succession by the loud bang of the door slamming. Ginger stood looking on.
"I don't think I'd like to be in Sam Seaborn's shoes later on." Ginger said quietly to herself.
X ~ X ~ X
8.57am EST
A whirlwind in the guise of Sam Seaborn whizzed through the Communications Bullpen, punctuated by the loud slamming of the door to the young man's office. On his way past, Ginger had attempted to tell Sam that Toby wanted him to go straight into his office, Sam's mind however, was evidently focussed on the sanctuary of his office, so much so that he completely disregarded her.
"Ginger!" Toby shouted from within the confines of his own office. In response Ginger opened the door and stuck her head into the room, almost an inversion of the occurrence earlier that morning.
"Yes Toby? I did try and tell him that you wanted to see him, but he didn't seem to take much notice of me. Would you like me to go get him for you, tell him that you want to see him right now?"
"Oh no, Ginger." Toby said dangerously. "That's quite all right. I'll get him myself." Toby set a grim look of determination on his face, reached for his ball and started hurling it at the partition between his and Sam's offices, whilst Ginger ducked out of the room, grimacing. There was no response from Sam, despite the repeated 'thud, thud'. Usually, that would be sufficient to summon his deputy at break-neck speed, that day it provoked no response whatsoever. To say that Toby was displeased was correct to a degree, it was however about as proportionally accurate as saying that the ocean is larger than a flea. Toby deliberately rose to his feet, marched to his door and through it, passed an astonished Ginger, and flung open the door to his Deputy's office.
It was dark in the room, so dark in fact that all that could be seen was Toby's silhouette back lit from the bullpen, creating a daunting shape in the doorway,
"Sam." He began quietly. "You've managed to find your way in at last, I see. If I'd known how difficult you found it to locate the building, I would have bought you a guide-book or found you a city pamphlet, I mean, the White House is in all of them, and it's not as if it's signposted or anything."
"Toby, do you mind? I'm a little busy right now. I have a thing to do for Leo before staff." The man kept his face down, hiding his chiselled good looks.
"You have a thing?" Toby's voice was very low and very dangerous.
"Yeah. I have a thing."
"A thing. What thing, Sam?"
"It's a thing."
"Well, how are you going to be able to do your 'thing', with all the lights off?" Toby flicked the light switch, illuminating the previously dark office. Toby saw Sam clearly now, sitting behind his desk, his chin resting cupped in his right hand. Sam blinked his eyes, a natural response to the sudden brightness of the room. Toby was shocked. "Sam, you look like hell. You look like you've been run over by a truck."
"Funny you should say that. That's pretty much how it feels." His dishevelled looking deputy said with a bitter, wry smile. The young man's usually immaculate appearance was no longer so. His shirt was creased and his hair in disarray. Sam shuffled some papers that sat in front of him on his desk and then reached pointedly into his inside jacket pocket, almost entirely disregarding Toby's presence. "Dammit!" he exclaimed.
"Sam?" Toby's tone remained low.
"My glasses. They broke. Man, my head will really be killing me by the end of the day if I don't use them."
"What happened to your glasses, Sam?"
"I told you. They broke."
"They broke, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Before I get round to asking you how you broke them not to mention why the hell you're so late, I think I should perhaps advise you that now might be the ideal opportunity for you to get out the spare pair that you keep here."
"That Toby, is an excellent idea." Sam complied with the sage recommendation, leaving the papers that, until then had held his attention. Swivelling his desk chair so that his back was to Toby. He leaned forward and reached down to the drawer.
As he was leaning down, Sam felt a sharp pain pierce his head and felt a surge of nausea. In response to this, Sam lifted his right hand to his temple until his equilibrium had righted itself and the feelings of nausea had subsided.
Toby stepped closer.
"Everything alright, Mr. Seaborn?" Toby sneered. "Now is not the time for hypochondria. Especially as you have 'a thing' to do before staff." He added.
As Toby stepped around the desk, he quickly caught a glimpse of Sam's shirt, which until that moment had either been facing away from him or hidden by the back of his chair. His brow furrowed as he focussed on the collar of the younger man's shirt.
"Sam, you've got something on your shirt collar, unless of course you've started to buy shirts with decorative collars. I get the feeling though, that isn't your style. Josh, I don't know, you? No way." Toby's voice became filled with concern for his Deputy. "You want to tell me how it happened, Sam?"
"Huh?" Toby gently placed his hand on his deputy's shoulder, as he leaned in closer to take a look at the provenance of the "pattern".
"The blood, Sam. The blood. How did it happen?"
Sam momentarily looked confused, he then cautiously raised his left hand to the back of his head. When he removed it and brought it down to view it was stained red, and felt warm and sticky.
"Sam?" Toby prompted him, perching himself on the edge of Sam's desk. "You hit your head?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
"What?"
"How Sam? How did you hit your head?"
"I didn't hit it."
"You just said you did."
"Well I didn't. A blunt object did."
"A blunt object? Sam, I'm not even going to pretend that I understand what you're telling me."
"Something blunt and heavy impacted with the back of my head, Toby. Case closed?"
"No! The case most certainly is not closed. How did your head and a blunt object end up colliding, Sam?" Toby's patience was really being stretched now, but he knew that he had to get to the heart of the problem.
"Someone used it to hit me with."
"Why'd someone hit you Sam?" The younger man's hands began to tremble, slightly as if weighted by the blood at which he was staring most intently. "Sam?" Toby looked at him, now incredibly concerned, then he turned towards the door. "Ginger!" she appeared.
"What now, Mr. Ziegler?"
"Ginger, go find Josh. Tell him to get over here and that it's an emergency. Then get a cup of sweet, hot tea."
"Why?"
"Just do it." Toby said, wearily. He turned his attention back to his young deputy. "Why did someone hit you Sam?" Toby's voice was very quiet and gentle now, a marked contrast to the low and dangerous tone that he had used so readily earlier.
"So they could mug me Toby. Two guys mugged me." Seaborn blurted out. "I have just become an integral part of the victims of street crimes statistics!"
"My God! Are you all right?" Sam shot Toby a 'what-do-you-think' look. "OK." Toby conceded. "That was a stupid question."
"Toby?" A head of unruly hair attached to a wiry frame raced through the door and into Sam's office. "Ginger told Donna that it was an emergency." Toby shifted his position to enable the newly arrived figure of Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff, to see Sam, who was sitting in the chair looking rather dazed and a little pallid, his hand once again at his temple.
"Sam? Toby, what happened to him?"
"Says he was mugged by two guys."
"He was mugged? You were mugged. Aren't we supposed to have done something about that? If not, we should. Perhaps we should talk to Leo." Toby cleared his throat in an attempt to end Josh's rant. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Are you all right? My God. You're bleeding." He said, eventually noticing the red stains.
"Nothing gets passed you, does it Josh?"
"Why's your head bleeding?"
"Someone hit him, Josh."
"With what?"
"Something not entirely dissimilar to your level of tact."
"Huh?"
"Blunt, Josh. He means blunt. Anyhow, do you two mind. I am still in the room, you know."
"God. Yes. Sam, what happened?"
"Haven't we been through this all already?"
"I was mugged Josh."
"What did they take?"
"My wallet, my watch, my cell phone and my brief case, complete with laptop."
"I bet they thought that they'd struck gold."
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You get hurt other than the knock on the head?"
"They held a blade to my throat, then they hit me on the head, which you know about, and then, whilst I was down, they kicked me in the stomach a couple of times."
"My God, Sam. Are you alright?"
"I was mugged, Josh."
Toby growled.
"You really should go to the hospital. Get that head checked out."
"I'll be fine, Josh."
"You know, Sam. Much as it pains me to say it, he's right and actually having to admit that, as you know, goes very much against my principles."
"You reported it to the police?"
"No. You think I should?"
"Yeah."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Sam, give the damn police a call."
"Now?"
"No, after the mid-terms. Of course now!"
"Can't I do it after staff?"
"Look, we'll give the police a call, go to staff, find the First Lady and get her to check out your head, that will be quicker than going to the hospital, anyhow, and by the time all that's been done, the police will be here, you can make your statement, and it will all be over and done with."
"Here's the tea you wanted, Toby." Ginger said as she came through the door and handed it to the Communications Director. He in turn, knelt down in front of Sam and held it out to the young man. He took it gratefully, his hands still trembling a little.
"Drink this Sam, it'll help." Toby instructed. Sam lifted it to his lips slowly and began to drink, but the cup had to be steadied in the young man's shaking hands by Toby. While this was taking place, there was the sound of Josh's voice as he spoke on the phone to the DC police. Sam drained the cup full. Toby was right, it had helped, a little at any rate. Josh, hanging up the phone, said:
"All done. They're sending someone over. They should be here in about an hour."
"Good." Toby affirmed. "Now, alas, it's rime for staff. Think you're up to it, Sam?"
"Yeah. I can't just spend the day sitting here." He made to get up, but was unsteady on his feet, so Toby looped his arm around Sam's waist to provide support until he had regained his bearings and righted his balance.
"OK?"
Sam nodded.
Neither Josh nor Toby wanted to crowd the young man, knowing how independent he was, so they took a step back as Sam began the journey from the back of his desk. On completion, Josh placed himself at his best friend's side, whilst Toby strategically filtered to the back, just in case anything untoward happened as they walked through the halls of the White House. They walked slowly but surely along the halls until they reached their destination: Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry's office.
"We O.K. to go in, Margaret?" Josh asked Leo's aide.
"Sure guys, in you go." She responded.
"Oh, and Margaret," Toby added, "when you see Donna and all the other aides, as doubtless you will during our meeting, then please quash any notion that she may have that something is wrong."
"Is anything wrong?" Toby shot Margaret a look that could, were looks able to kill, have wiped out a small country with ease and poise. Wisely, Margaret decided not to probe further.
The three entered Leo's office and headed straight to the couch, where they sat themselves; Sam in the middle while Toby and Josh sat one either side of him. Leo was standing behind his desk waiting for the group to settle. Press Secretary, C.J. Cregg was already seated in a comfortable armchair when the other staffers arrived.