Non Sum Qualis Eram part 7
By Ecri
See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.
November 16
The White House
Roosevelt Room
CJ Cregg scurried into the Roosevelt room carrying the largest sheet cake she'd ever tried to carry on her own. She moved quickly to the table, where Donna, Bonnie, Ginger, and Margaret were fussing over decorations, balloons, and the placement of paper plates and napkins. "Do we have everything?"
Donna nodded. "I think so. Leo is bringing the gift. Sam doesn't suspect a thing. Toby's keeping him busy in his officesomething about some last minute speechwriting before he leaves.
CJ pondered the list. "What about the President and The First Lady?"
"They insist on being here. Josh is supposed to let them know when Sam gets here, so they can drop by."
CJ surveyed the room. "This is great."
Just then, Carol ran into the room, breathless. "CJ, Senior Staff in the Oval. We've got a situation at the Lincoln Tunnel."
CJ didn't bother asking any of the questions rolling around in her head. She broke into a run and raced after Carol.
Donna, Margaret, Bonnie, and Ginger followed after her. Donna shut the door, to the room, shutting away the frivolity so they could deal with the chaos.
**
Several Hours Later
The Oval Office
President Bartlet sat back in his chair for the first time since this all began. Wearily, he looked at his Chief of Staff. Leo was looking back at him. "Now that we're alone, have you heard anything from Fitz or Ron?"
Leo shook his head. "Nothing concrete, sir. Fitz requested a meeting with you in about an hour. Ron Butterfield says he should have more information by then."
"They must have some ideas who was behind this! That truck could have blown up the Lincoln Tunnel!"
"The truck was stopped well before it came anywhere near the tunnel, sir."
"But that was the intention, wasn't it."
"From what we've been able to piece together."
Bartlet was prepared to yell, when a new thought crossed his mind, silencing him for a moment. When he did speak it was in soft tones full of fear that he would never have used in front of anyone other than his best friend. "Leo, this wouldn't have anything to do withyou don't think it has anything to do withthe Qumari."
Leo sighed. If he could spare Jed this, he would. "It might. That's one of the things Fitz is looking into."
Bartlet didn't reply, but Leo could see in his eyes the thoughts that chased themselves around his friend's head. They started with what have I done.
**
Sam's Office
The Same Time
Sam Seaborn slipped a few more files into his briefcase, and turned at last to the flag hanging framed on his wall. He'd been told he had to clear everything out of the office. It wouldn't do for anyone to think he was maintaining his White House office while he was campaigning. It would throw an unwelcome spin on his campaign. Still, taking down the flag was hard. It meant a lot to him, and it was the first thing he'd put on the wall that day they'd moved in. Toby had been blustering through the White House, and finally settled on where he felt the Communications Office should be. He'd pointed at his office and said to Sam. That's mine. You take the one next to it."
That had been all the instruction he'd gotten. It didn't take him long to set himself up, and that framed flag had been like marking his territory. Josh had laughed when he'd seen it.
"I could have walked in here and known this was your office even if you hadn't been sitting at the desk!"
Sam reached up and grabbed a hold of each side of the frame.
"So that's it then? You're ready to go?"
Sam turned to see Toby staring at him from the doorway with an almost forlorn look in his eyes. He let go of the frame, letting it settle back against the wall. "Pretty much. My flight is at 1:00 AM."
"Ouch!"
"Yeah, well, I won't sleep anyway. This way"
"You get to start your campaign exhausted?"
"I guess so."
Toby stepped into the office. "Sam, good luck. If you need anything, let uslet me know."
Sam stepped around the desk closer to Toby, then leaned back against it. "I promise, Toby. You'll be the first call I make." He dropped his voice a bit, knowing Toby hated to talk about his writer's block. "If you need a hand with the Inaugural"
"No. This isn't about me. If I need help turning a phrase, I have the speechwriting staff."
"If I can help at all"
"You can. Take care of yourself out there, andwin."
"Toby, it's the Cali"
"I know what district it is! You go in wanting to win or you don't go in at all!"
Sam was surprised by the way Toby was taking this. He knew, on some level, he wanted this. He wanted to win. He wanted to be a Congressman. Yet, if anyone had asked him what he wanted before this had all come to pass, he was sure this wouldn't have made the list. He'd been doing some soul searching the night before. He'd bumped into Ainsley and they'd had a long chat about his bid for Congress. She'd laughed at the way he'd ended up running for office.
"Sam Seaborn, the accidental Congressman!"
"Stranger things have happened!"
"Yes, and usually to you!"
Sam had enjoyed their chat. He'd been afraid they'd drift apart after breaking up. He was happy now with Mallory, but sometimes in his minds eye when he imagined his future it was a blonde head, and not a brunette one sharing it with him.
With effort, Sam brought himself back to the present and Toby's words. "I will. Toby, I promise I'm going into this to win."
"See that you do." Toby maintained his gruff demeanor, and turned to leave. At the last minute, he turned around and looked at Sam as if he had more to say, but he just hurried out of the office.
Sam stared after him for a moment, then returned to his flag.
**
Later
Donna peered into the Roosevelt Room, knowing they'd never had a chance to put away the party things. She stepped in thinking she should put some things away and wishing they'd had the party they'd intended to have. Poor Sam. It wasn't until she got to the table that she realized she wasn't alone.
"Sam! What are you doing here?"
Sam turned to face her. He'd been staring at a photograph they'd had enlarged and framed for him. It sat there on the table with a big red, white, and blue bow on it. The photograph was one of them all. The President stood in the center. Leo stood on the President's right, Sam on his left. It had been taken soon after they'd moved into the White House.
Donna gestured towards the photo, the cake, and other party paraphernalia. "We had planned"
Sam nodded. "I know. It's the thought that counts, and this was a nice thought."
"Why are you still here? I thought you had to go and catch a plane."
"I do. I'm going now."
"Oh, no you're not."
Sam and Donna both turned startled at the sound of the President's voice as he entered the room followed by the rest of the Senior Staff and the assistants. Amy Gardener and Mallory O'Brien followed the First Lady. Ainsley Hayes came in a few moments later with some of the other lawyers from her office. Sam was well liked there. They saw him as their inside man because he was a Senior Staffer, but he was such a good lawyer.
"This isn't quite what we'd intended, Sam, but we need to wish you well." The President shook Sam's hand vigorously. "We're behind you."
Donna watched as Sam accepted the good wishes of his friends. He was so happy. She'd been worried about him. He'd had a rough year and he really hadn't seemed himself. He seemed more confident now. He seemed ready for this fight, this battle for the California 47th. His confidence was back. His fire was back. He had gotten past the disappointments, and maybe he had found a dream to follow.
She noticed Amy grabbing Josh's arm, but didn't care about it anymore. It was much later that she realized seeing Mallory hanging on Sam's arm was what she'd cared about.
"Thank you." Sam smiled basking in the affection of his friends. "I really didn't expectI mean, it's not like I'mI'll be back in three months!"
Bartelt stepped forward. "Unless you win."
"Yes, sir. Unless I win, but I'm really not going to win. That can't really happen. This is the California 47th. Democrats don'tIt was an Aristotelian confluence of events..."
"We've all heard the line, Sam." CJ stood next to the guest of honor. "But we still want to wish you good luck.
For a short time, Sam mingled with his friends, Mallory next to him, as he said goodbye, insisting he'd be in touch. When he reached Ainsley, he smiled and took her hand. "I didn't think I'd get to see you before I left."
Ainsley's own smile was apprehensive. "Me, too. I just wanted to say good luck, Sam. We can't vote for you, but we will be cheering you on."
"Thanks, Ains." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then moved on to the others in the room.
Donna noticed once he'd left Ainsley that Mallory seemed to have more than a few things to say. She was whispering in his ear, but Donna guessed that she was upset that Sam had kissed Ainsley. Some women just couldn't handle a little friendly gesture to an old girlfriend. Donna watched as Sam thanked them all again. It was when Mallory moved closer to kiss him on the cheek that Donna felt her own smile fade.
**
Seaborn for Congress Campaign Offices
Orange County
Angela sliced open the box and rummaged expectantly through the packing materials. "Ow!" She yelped as a wayward pin pierced her thumb.
"That's what you get for being impatient."
"I wasn't being impatient."
"You've always been impatient. You can't wait for anything."
Angela grinned at her friend and fellow volunteer. "Come on, Abigale. We've got five more boxes of campaign buttons and ten boxes of posters to unpack."
Abigale frowned, crossing over to her friend, and flipping a page over on her ever-present clipboard. "What happened to the bumper stickers?"
"I sent them back to the printers."
"Why?"
"They said Seeburn for Congress."
"They did not!"
A third head popped up from behind some boxes. Theresa just rolled her eyes. "Girls, we have work to do."
The sound of applause precluded any response. They turned to look toward the door. There stood Sam Seaborn, looking slightly embarrassed and more than a little surprised by the response he'd gotten simply by walking into the room.
"Seriously, you've got to stop that." He moved through the office, weaving his way around the makeshift cubicles until he stood between Angela and Abigale. "When's the press conference?"
"In two hours. We're unpacking the buttons and posters now, and I'll have our volunteers passing them out to the crowd." Abigale consulted her clipboard making a note to herself.
"What crowd?"
Theresa smiled. "The one that will appear spontaneously everywhere you go."
"Appear spontaneously armed with 'Seaborn for Congress' signs?"
Angela chuckled. "Yeah. That's them. They're hard to miss."
Sam sighed. "When's the first speech scheduled?"
"Tomorrow. You're speaking to the League of Women Voters. Try to look good." Angela looked Sam up and down. "Uhnevermind. No special instructions necessary."
Sam laughed and looked around the room. "Where's Will?"
Angela gestured towards the back room. "He's on the phone with the League of Women Voters. Scott's with him."
Sam nodded, and headed down the corridor to Will's office hoping this time, he and Scott would see eye to eye.
As Sam entered the office, Will was hanging up the phone. "Sam! I set it up! Your next photo op is going to be with Dwyer and Belford. Then, we've got a rally set up by the League of Women Voters. Sara Evans will be there and has agreed to endorse you"
"Wait a minute, Will. These photo ops and endorsementsThat's fine, but it's all you've scheduled. We need to reach the voters, the homeowners, the regular citizens."
"Sam, I know how you feel, but we need to make a good showing. We need to get your numbers up. This is the way to do it. You've been away from California for a long time"
"Granted, but I've been in Washington, not on Mars!"
Scott nodded. "I know the voters here. I know how they think. Wilde's winning was a fluke. If you want your numbers to look at all competitive, this is what we need to do."
Will turned from Scott and offered a conciliatory smile to this man who'd agreed to run in a seemingly hopeless congressional race. "Your numbers are nowhere right now. We have to concentrate on making you a serious competitor before we can bring out your issues."
Reluctantly, Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll give you this week. That's it. After that I have issues to talk about."
"We'll get to them." Scott promised sounding to Sam more and more like a salesman.
Sam listened as Will and Scott outlined their plans and commitments for the next few days, trying to dispel the feeling of dread in his stomach as he gave in to another of Scott's plans. This campaign wasn't working out like he'd expected.
**
The White House
December 2
Office of the Communications Director
CJ waited impatiently in Toby's office. Ginger had told her Toby had just stepped out for a moment. She'd been waiting for 5 minutes. She checked her watch again just as he walked in. "CJ, what do you need?"
"Didn't you tell me that Sam intends to make a statement soon about the crime rise in Orange County?"
"Yes."
"And isn't that statement supposed to propose additional funding for Neighborhood Watch groups, and a detailed plan for an increased hiring of police officers, better equipment for those officers, and a substantial pay raise for them?"
"You know it does. What are you going on about?"
She handed him several sheets of paper. "Carol just gave me this." She waited as he read.
"Webb said this? This exact thing?"
"He did. Sam's been snaked."
"Does he know?"
"They send a volunteer from the office to run down to the local mercantile to catch the 6:00 news on the only radio in the county. Of course he knows, Toby! He's in California, not Antarctica!" CJ glared at him, eyes flashing.
Toby sat and said nothing. He felt deflated. It was one thing sending Sam to be their sacrificial lamb in Orange County, but it was quite another to have his slim chance at winning sabotaged. "I'm calling Sam."
"I can't even spin this," CJ complained. "If Sam goes forward with his proposal after this, Webb is gonna spin it that Sam has no confidence in the State Police, which is absurd, but that's what he's gonna say. Then he'll accuse Sam of trying to raise taxes."
Toby was already on the phone. He spoke briefly and hung up. "They said he's out giving a speech. He'll call me later."
"I hope you have some kind of a plan by the time he does."
"So do I."
**
December 2
Office of the Chief of Staff
Leo had spoken to CJ and Toby about Sam's campaign. Toby said that Sam seemed to be dealing with it, but they all knew it was a blow. Sam could handle himself, but Leo hated to see him combating more betrayals. Someone on the inside had to have leaked his plan. There really wasn't any other explanation.
Sam had a promising career in politics, but for him to have picked this particular race as his first, Sam was either very brave, or very idealistic. Leo knew he was both. He'd been pleased with the kid almost from the moment they met. It had been at Josh's house. He'd been visiting his old friend Noah Lyman. Josh had been home visiting and he'd brought his new friend Sam. Josh was trying to convince Sam to quit Princeton and try to get into Yale or Harvard. Sam had laughed and claimed to have gotten into Yale and Harvard, but he chose Princeton. It had quickly degenerated into a debate over which school was the best.
Leo had only listened with half an ear Josh had gone too far, ridiculing most everything about Princeton and its alumni. Sam, having heard enough of Josh's admittedly asinine remarks, slammed his hand down on the table when Josh again interrupted the younger man's arguments. Having gotten everyone's attention, he launched into a heartfelt defense of a school that obviously meant a lot to him.
Josh had changed the subject, and, after that, Leo had always remembered Sam as the eloquent kid who shut Josh up. He'd been angry, and Leo now knew it wasn't a side of Sam that came up often. Josh had told him afterwards that Sam had a troublesome temper, but that he was doing his best to control it. In all the years he'd known Sam Seaborn, he could count on one hand the times he'd seen the younger man lose control, so he assumed the kid was doing a good job with the self control.
Suddenly gripped with a need to help, Leo picked up the phone and started making calls. He had old friends at the D-triple-C who might be able to keep an eye on things for him.
**
White House
December 5
Toby read through the lines he'd just written, hoping he would find, in reading them, what he had not felt in writing them. He reached the middle of the paragraph before giving up on the words. There was nothing there. They were words he'd used countless times, yet the held no life, no passion, no spark, no fire.
He tore the sheet from the legal pad and carefully struck a match. He watched the page burn, then placed it in his trash can where it lay atop the charred remains of at least a dozen similarly reviewed pages.
Toby Ziegler had been a writer most of his life. He'd dealt, as all writers had, with his share of writer's block. Generally, it lasted a while, and was gone, sometimes gradually, like erosion and sometimes instantaneously like a dam breaking. Why could he not shake it now? What was different about this?
A knock on his doorframe startled him, and he glanced down at the trashcan to be sure it hadn't flared up before checking to see who it was. "Bonnie?"
"Dropping off mail, Toby. It's a FedEx from Sam."
Toby nodded, standing, as Bonnie crossed into the room and passed the familiar package emblazoned with red and blue letters to him.
He wasted no time tearing it open curious as to what Sam would have to FedEx to him. When he read the short note, he honestly wasn't sure if he should be angry, happy, or relieved, so he managed a strange amalgamation of all three.
He checked his watch and picked up his phone.
**
Seaborn for Congress Campaign Office
Sam let the phone ring a few times as he finished the notes he was making. After the third ring, he picked up the phone. "Sam Seaborn."
"What are you doing?"
"Toby?"
"Of course, it's me. What are you doing?"
"This is a trick question, right? I'm talking to you on the phone." Sam heard a muttered curse, and the sound of a door closing. "Toby?"
"Sam, I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, but it stops now! You cannot write the Inauguration while trying to run for Congress. First, you don't have the time, and second, I'm not entirely sure it's legal, and third, you don't have the time!"
Sam thought about that. "Well, I can't run for office from the White House, but I can send my friend a few notes that I inadvertently took with me when I cleaned out my desk."
"You inadvertently took with you, a dozen pages on foreign aid, social security, and campaign finance reform?"
"You know how it is. I was in such a hurry." He knew Toby wouldn't be this angry if he didn't still need help. "Is it still bad?"
"It's.good." Toby ran a hand over his head, wondering when his deputy had gotten so good at reading him, and then he wondered how long he could call this man his deputy. "Thanks, Sam, but I mean it. If you do this again, I will tell the President and Leo right after I resign."
"You can't resign now. There's no one to replace you."
Toby sighed. "Yeah, but since I'm not really doing anything now, I don't think I'll be missed."
"Toby, this isn't permanent. It's normal." Sam recalled being in Toby's position. He remembered the desperation he'd felt struggling to write about education on Air Force One. He remembered Toby understanding it all, and doing what he could to help. He had only one last suggestion. "How about a walk?"
"A walk?" Toby wasn't sure he'd heard Sam.
"You know to 'get the blood flowing'. You never know where you might find inspiration."
"I've taken plenty of walks since this started."
"Maybe you should stop trying."
"To walk?"
"To write. You can't force it."
Toby knew what Sam was trying to do, but it wasn't helping. "SamI can't do much of anything."
"Toby, you need to work through this. When did it start?"
"You know when it started! Before the State of the Union."
"So the pie wasn't really helping. Maybe you should lay off the sweets."
"I'm not laughing."
"Neither am I. Toby, you won't need to resign."
Toby changed the subject abruptly. "What's with you and Business?"
Sam sighed, and Toby could tell he wasn't the first to ask him this question. "I need to be more visible out here. The DNC needs me to keep their friends happy..."
"Why?"
"Because I need the money."
"Didn't Amy send some people"
"It wasn't enough. Toby, this is California. Everything is expensive. You have to be willing to pay the price."
Toby didn't like the tone of Sam's voice anymore than he liked the younger man's choice of words. He seemed to be regurgitating words he didn't truly believe. His tone had shifted to one laced with the inevitability of defeat. "Samif you need a hand, I can"
Sam's laughter cut him off. "You can't! You have the Inauguration to write."
"I'm not actually writing much of it."
"I'm glad the rest of the speechwriting staff is picking up the slack,"
"I'm not talking about the rest of the staff, Mr. FedEx!" Toby tried to think of something more to say, but he was too tired to find a witty comeback. "I'm going back to work now."
"Call if you need anything, Toby."
Sam wasn't surprised by Toby's loud "No."
**
December 10
The Oval Office
"So this is the same thing all over again! Leo, I swear" Jed Bartlet dropped the thought. He paced behind his desk in an uneven rhythm, stopping and waiting when the mood struck him, only to be urged into motion by the fury-fed impatience surging through him.
Leo sighed and exchanged glances with Fitzwallace. Fitz's latest intelligence report on the Lincoln Tunnel incident last month had given them no concrete evidence against the Qumari government. They couldn't prove Qumari involvement, but they knew they were behind it.
The President stopped pacing and stood in front of Fitz and Leo. "Why is it we never have the proof we need?"
"Because they're as good at this as we are. Sir, they can't prove things, we can't prove thingsthat's the way these things go."
"Are you saying we have to retaliate? Because, by God, Leo, if you are, I resign!"
Leo looked at Fitz. "Are you recommending retaliation?"
Fitz addressed the President. "At this time, we don't believe that would be the correct course, sir. We want to continue the surveillance we have in place and see if we can determine any future threat."
Bartlet nodded. "Do it. Fitz, make sure we don't let them get away with anything."
"Yes, sir."
**
December 12
The White House
Donna looked through the pages she'd typed. Reading them just made her blood boil all over again. She had started to compile these little reports just for herself and the assistants. It wasn't until Toby had read Bonnie's copy and asked to be added to the distribution list that things had snowballed. CJ wanted one, then Josh, then Leo. Soon, to her surprise, the President had insisted on being included.
It made her smile to remember how he'd done it. He's appeared at her desk one day. She hadn't been expecting him, since he had never really stopped at her desk. Gone by it on occasion, but actually stoppingno, that was unprecedented.
"Mr. President?" She had tried to mask her surprise and confusion.
He smiled at her and gestured for her to sit down again. "I hear you're keeping tabs on Sam."
She'd smiled at him. "I've been putting together the stories we get about him. From the wiresany mentions I can find of him or his opponent."
"Good work. Put me on your distribution list."
"Yes, sir!"
Now, as she Xeroxed the copies for the growing list of recipients, she realized how angry this latest batch of stories made her. She knew politics was sometimes a dirty game, but this was too much. She passed out the copies and, on Josh's added a post-it that said, "What are we going to do about this?"
She just hoped it wouldn't take him too long to answer.
**
Toby pounded the keys of his laptop thinking maybe the sound, the rhythm of it, might inspire his brain to try to keep up. He wasn't typing anything truly good. Sometimes it was a few lines on education, and sometimes it was just the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.' Finally, frustration getting the better of him, he snapped the laptop shut. Staring at his notes, scribbled words that did nothing to organize his scattered thoughts, Toby wondered what had happened. How had he been reduced to inarticulate gestures, and occasional moments of coherency?
It had started last year. When writing last year's State of the Union, the pie hadn't worked. Whenever he'd had writer's block before, a few pieces of pie normally helped. The President had heard the continued requests for pie and had presumed that it had gotten the job done. It hadn't.
Sam had pulled last year's State of the Union out of the fire. He had managed, somehow, to sort through the things Toby wanted to write, and had actually written them. He hadn't complained. He hadn't prodded Toby or demanded that the Communications Director pull his weight, or made fun of his writing by demanding Toby use verbs or punctuation as Toby usually demanded of Sam. Instead, the younger man had rolled up his sleeves to the task at hand. He recalled Sam's favorite quote from Dickens. Toby thought it was from David Copperfield. The quote was so Sam. Possibly we might even improve the world a little, if we got up early in the morning and took off our coats to the work.
Now, like the world, Toby's writing had not improved. The Inauguration was drawing steadily closer, and he had no talent. That was the only conclusion he could draw. His talent had dried up, or run away, or disappeared.
Bonnie walked in then, mercifully distracting Toby from his thoughts "Here's this morning's Sam memo."
"Thanks." Toby reached out, taking it from her. "What's the package?"
She held out the FedEx box. "Another FedEx from Sam."
"From Sam?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, thanks."
Toby ignored the FedEx package, and instead used Donna's memo to divert him from the work he wasn't doing. He scanned the first few paragraphs before getting quickly to his feet, and rushing out the door.
**
Office of the Chief of Staff
Leo looked up as Toby and Josh collided in his doorway. "Can I help you?" The sarcasm dripped from his words.
It took a few moments for the two men to disentangle themselves, and Leo just sat back and enjoyed the show as each of them grew testier. Finally, they stood in front of Leo's desk still eyeing each other cautiously.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Leo asked, pointedly, his face clearly indicating he was anything but pleased at the way they had come to his office.
"Have you seen" Both Toby and Josh spoke at once, then stopped and glared at each other.
"I don't have time for this!" Leo looked at his deputy. "What?"
"Have you seen Donna's memo?"
Leo glanced at his desk. Not seeing the memo in his in box, he bellowed. "Margaret? Where's Donna's memo?"
Margaret was in the office before the question was halfway formed, and the paper was in Leo's hand with Margaret out the door again before he managed to finish. Josh stared after her, but Leo was right back to business. He scanned the memo. "Has the President seen this, yet?"
Josh shrugged. "I don't know. Probably. He gets one every day."
"Okay, but this last one here is going to"
"LEO!" Jed Bartlet's voice rumbled through the office.
Leo looked heavenward as if in supplication. "This is gonna distract him! This is really gonna distract him!"
The President walked into his Chief of Staff's office holding a badly crumpled piece of paper in his hands. Taking in the sight of three of his Senior Staffers, he picked up Leo's phone. "Charlie, call CJ and get her over to Leo's office, would you? Oh, and you might as well get Donna, too!" He hung up.
"What are we going to do about this?"
Toby waved the paper to get everyone's attention. "We need to respond if we're asked, but we can't just jump in"
"Jump into what?" CJ's voice preceded her into the office by a few seconds. Donna entered just behind her.
Toby waved his memo. "Did you read Donna's Daily?"
CJ nodded. "They're being rough on Sam. He's ready for them."
"Have you talked to him?" Josh asked.
"Not today, but I spoke to him awhile ago, and he pointed out that his opponent would likely be saying pretty much all of this stuff." She waved a hand in the general direction of Toby's memo.
"CJ, has the press asked about it?" President Bartlet stared intently at CJ.
"No, sir, not yet, but I'm sure someone will bring it up."
Bartlet nodded, turning to Leo. "I want to respond to this. They can't call him my yes man' and get away with it! They can't really think he's just What did they call him?"
Donna quoted without looking at the memo. "An empty-headed, pretty-boy, Bartlet Yes man who doesn't have an original thought in his head."
"That! By God, they can't seriously think"
"Why not? We kinda let them think that, don't we?" Josh hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud until all eyes turned on him. Bartlet's eyes were still wide and flushed with anger. Leo's were filled with a sort of acknowledgement that he'd heard the truth that he'd expected to hear. Toby's eyes were on the floor, and CJ's were puzzled. Donna, still unsure why she was there, had been ready to defend Sam until Josh's words stopped her.
"What do you mean by that?" Bartlet's tone was quiet but dangerous.
Josh glanced at Leo, who nodded almost imperceptibly. This was no time to keep the truth from the President.
"Sam'swe've always used him in the media because of his looks. He has a natural self-deprecating sense of humor. He's loyal to a fault. He has vehemently defended every policy of this administration, even if it went against his own beliefs."
"As a Senior Staffer, it's his job to support the President." Toby whispered to the floor.
"Yes! But Sam does nothing by half measures! The press knows that. His opposition knows that. We've let him take the fall too many times. For Kevin Khan's videotape, for the open-mikethe list goes on and on! Especially back before we won the White House! Yet when we need to put a pretty face on a bad situation, we send Sam to do the morning shows! If something falls apart, we blame Sam. If we don't want to hear his objections or his high ideals, we keep him out of the loop"
"Sam says he knew this was going to happen."
Josh whirled to face his assistant. "When did you speak to him?"
"This morning." Donna admitted. "We keep in touch. Like he told CJ, he already knew all of these things would become issues. He said he already knew how to respond."
"Did he tell you?"
Donna shook her head. "He said he was ready for it." She smiled at the memory. "It sounded to me like he might even enjoy it."
Toby laughed, a smile spreading quickly across his features. "That's my Sam!" he whispered to himself.
"Anything you want to share with the class?" President Bartlet sounded more that a little perturbed.
Toby shook his head. "No, sir."
Bartlet's eyes narrowed, but he let it go. "I want to respond to this nonsense. Especially this yes man' thing. The man sent me a five-page memo about Medicare after I assured him my decision was final! He's no yes man and the rest of that description was hogwash!"
"Hogwash?" Josh's eyes widened. "Where are we, Mayberry?"
"You heard me!"
"Yes, sir!" Josh sobered. "You're right, though, we need to respond"
Toby waved a hand, drawing everyone's attention. "I would love to back Sam up, but we have to keep our heads here. Too quick a response will seem as if they're right. Too vehement a response will convince them that we doth protest too much' so we had better be careful what we say."
"Toby, we can't just leave this to him!" Josh's voice rose as he spoke.
"He can handle it, and, besides, it's not that I think we shouldn't respond. I think we shouldn't respond before Sam unless we're asked about it. In fact, the only reason for responding is if we're asked!"
CJ looked grim. "We'll be asked. I'll call Sam and see how he intends to respond."
President Bartlet stepped forward. "You do that, and ask him what he needs from us?"
"Sir?"
"Ask him what he needs. Does he need any money"
Leo shook his head. "No, sir."
"No? What no? What do you mean no?"
"You can't give a personal donation to Sam's campaign."
"Why the hell not?"
"How long have you been in politics?" Leo's voice rose giving an ironic lilt to his words.
Jed Bartlet knew what his best friend was saying, but he was mad. "Damn it, Leo! He deserves a chance!"
"You don't think he can win, do you?"
Bartlet looked around the room. "I don't think just any democrat could win the California 47th, but it wouldn't surprise me if Sam Seaborn did."
Leo allowed himself a slow smile. "Yeah. No surprises there."
**
December 12
Sam Seaborn Campaign Office
"What's the speech look like?" Sam yelled, wondering when he'd started to bellow for things. He stopped in midstep, and spun to the nearest volunteer. "Angela, when did I start bellowing for things?"
"A few minutes after you got here."
"Was I nice about it?"
"Nice? You want to know if you bellow nicely?"
"No. That's a stupiddo I?"
"Sam, you're stressed. No one minds."
"Oh."
"Really. We don't. And the final draft of the speech is on your desk with the changes you wanted in order to respond to some of the hits."
"I wouldn't call them hits."
"Your numbers took a little tumble there, so, yeah, they're hits."
"Blunt. You love being blunt."
"Love it or hate it, that's what I've got."
"You're a gem, Angela."
"Don't you forget it."
"It's not like you'd let me."
"Not a chance." She smiled and returned to her desk to start answering the phones.
Abigale slammed his phone down. "We got it!"
Sam whirled to face his campaign manager. "The debate? He agreed?"
"He can't wait! He thinks you're gonna fold like a cheap suit."
"You gotta work on your metaphors."
"Later. We've gotta work on debate strategy."
"When is it?"
"January 29."
"Why so late?"
"That's the only one of the dates he suggested that you're not already speaking somewhere."
"Did he know that?"
"What?"
"Did he know? Isn't my schedule pretty much public? Would he want this date for a reason?"
"I don't see why."
"Neither do I. Check on it, would you?"
Scott Holcombe entered the office frowning. "What's this about a debate? We can't debate!"
Angela's smile slipped, and she glanced towards Abigale, who almost imperceptibly shook her head willing her friend to hold onto her fraying temper. Reluctantly, Angela bit her tongue as Sam fielded Scott's question.
"The debate's set for January 29."
"We've gotta cancel it."
"Why?" Sam was puzzled, but he was more irritated. It seemed that every time he thought they were making any sort of progress Scott slammed them into reverse.
"Sam, we've been over this before. You can't do it. The people here don't share your values. A debate will help them to see that. Your numbers will plummet."
"I don't agree."
"I don't care."
Sam frowned now. "I'm doing this. You don't like it you can quit."
Scott backpedaled. "Okay. Okay. If you're so set on it, maybe we can work on some spin so you don't take too much of a hit."
Just then, Theresa approached with the morning paper. "Sam, I think you need to look at this." Webb's face looked back at them from the front page as the headline informed them that a new fiscal plan would raise salaries for those employed by the county. Sam tore into the paper and scanned the article.
"How is he going to increase salaried and give out tax rebates? How is that possible?" He turned to Scott, fury on his face. "He's done it again! How is he doing this?" Sam looked desperately at Scott. "Where's our leak? How can Webb make exactly the statements time and again that would render my plans obsolete?"
Scott held out a hand for the paper, reading the story for himself. "I don't know Sam. Let me make some calls." He scurried down the hall as Sam yelled after him.
"That's what you said after the last leak! I want results Scott! This can't go on!"
Scott mumbled something about looking into it and retreated to his office.
"This can't go on." Sam whispered thinking the leak wasn't something Scott should have to make calls about. The leak was here in this office. As he stared after Scott, a coldness gripped him. Suddenly, he knew what he should do about this, and he knew he should do it alone. It would take some time, but he could unearth this leak himself. No need to ask Scott or Will to help. Will had been retreating more and more to his office anyway, and Scott was more likely to be on the phone or out of the office whenever Sam needed him.
The calculating, suspicious piece of him hadn't seen the light of day in awhile, and now that Sam was giving in to it, he wondered if he'd be able to pull it back. He'd hate to be suspicious all the time. It was tiring.
Angela interrupted, holding out the phone. "Sam, it's CJ."
Sam reached for the phone. "CJ!" Pause. "You had a meeting about me?" Pause. "Well, tell him not to worry." Pause. "No, I guess that wouldn't sit well with the President. I don't really want to tell you." Pause. "NoI just don't want it to sound rehearsed." Pause. "Soon." Pause. "Any minute now." Pause. "Of course you can. I have no problem with that, providing you're asked about it." Pause. "Toby said that?" Pause. "That I could handle it myself?" Pause. "Of course I think I can. I didn't think he thought I could." Pause. "Yeah. Go ahead. I trust you. And, CJ, thanks." Pause. "I do?" Pause. "Well, it's been one of those daysOkay I won't tell you." Pause. "See, threatening physical violence doesn't work on opposite coasts." Pause. "It happened again." Pause. "No, I don't know. Scott's looking into it." Pause. "I will. I promise. I'll talk to you later."
He hung up just as Angela pointed to her phone. "Toby."
Sam reached for the phone with a sigh.
**
To Be Continued
