IV

"Hey, Leo."

"Hey, Charlie. Has he got a minute?"

"He's got a few," the aide acknowledged, while somehow managing to communicate by facial expression alone the fact that the least of these were taken up with official business, the better it would be.

"It's okay, Charlie, I just want to talk to him a moment," Leo reassured him. He moved towards the door, then paused halfway. "How are you doing, by the way?"

In answer, he held up a pile of baby name books with a studiously blank expression. Leo chuckled.

"You just wait 'til they start telling you pregnancy horror stories," he warned.

"I'm looking forward to it," Charlie said dryly.

Leo headed into the Oval Office. The president looked up at his approach and smiled wryly. In his jeans and Notre Dame sweatshirt he normally looked younger and more relaxed, but not today.

"Mr. President."

"Leo." He sat upright, with a groan it obviously took effort to keep below the audible. "You needed me?"

"No, I just dropped by. We're pretty much wrapped up for the day."

Jed nodded. "Good... good," he said vaguely.

"I see Charlie's getting hit with the baby names already."

"Yes." He seemed a little off focus; not quite absent completely, but lacking his usual spirit of sharp, witty responses - much like he had been all week, actually.

"I think Josiah Bartlet-Young has a certain ring to it," Leo offered, and was recorded with a low-key smile.

"What, no little Leos running about the place?"

"Leo Bartlet?" He winced. "I don't think so."

"What about Thomas? Little Tommy?" Now Jed was smiling a little wider, and he was more than happy to be the butt of the teasing.

"I think if I really have to be immortalised in someone else's children, I'd prefer it not to be as Tommy."

"If it's a girl, they could call her Leonora."

"Or Josie," he shot back.

Jed glowered and pointed at him warningly, but it gradually turned into chuckle. "Don't even think about suggesting that to Zoey," he warned.

"Okay," Leo smiled. For a moment they were comfortable in silence together. "You should get some rest," he suggest softly.

"It's early yet," the president refuted automatically.

"You've had a hell of a week."

For once, Jed didn't argue with that assessment. "Yeah," he sighed tiredly, and met Leo's eyes. "Don't suppose you'd like to give me the odds on next week being any better?"

He had to look down at the carpet.

"Sam!" Josh ducked into his associate's office, brain bubbling over with stats and initiatives. "I wanted to talk to you about a meeting I've got set up with- What's up?"

He frowned. Sam was sitting tilted back in his chair, eyeing the ceiling as he did when his thoughts were preoccupied.

Sam swivelled back down to look at him. "I, uh... I had a meeting with this guy today. Gareth Vance."

"From Shield of Innocence? About the funding thing, right?"

"Yeah... no. That wasn't what he wanted to talk about."

Josh pulled a puzzled face. "No? What did he want?"

Sam looked at him gravely. "He wanted me to... he asked me about approaching the president to talk about his childhood."

Josh stared at him. "He wants the president to do a PSA?" he demanded loudly.

"No, I-" Sam grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. "He's got a point, Josh," he said awkwardly. "It's... the president's a symbol with a lot of power, a lot of abused kids could benefit from, from-"

"Ripping his most painful secrets out on national TV? No way, Sam."

"You don't think-?"

"Sam, I- I..." He raised a hand to his forehead and sighed in frustration before looking at him. "I remember what it took for me to... to go out in front of that press room and talk about my PTSD, explain about the symptoms and what it did to me, and... You can't ask him to do that, Sam. Not something this old. Not something this painful. These things, they're not... you don't volunteer to talk about them."

Sam nodded solemnly, and was silent for a long moment. Then he met Josh's eyes, his own troubled with the evidence of long and deep contemplation.

"But what if... what if talking about what happened to you could have saved a lot of people going through the same thing? What if you could have convinced a lot of people to get help for post traumatic stress before it went too far? Could you have done it then?"

Josh held his breath in for a long moment, then let it out in a sigh and dropped his gaze.

"I don't know, Sam," he admitted. "I really don't know."

Andy hovered somewhat awkwardly just outside the Communications bullpen. Strange that she should feel so, well, nervous about being in the White House.

Normally when she was here it was in the cause of government business - and, more often than not, in the grip of white hot rage at some stupid initiative of her ex-husband's. But now that she was here as Toby's... what? 'Girlfriend', she supposed, although the word sounded ridiculous to her. Now that she was here as... whatever you called an ex-spouse you were trying to reconcile with... she felt out of place and self-conscious. This was Toby's home ground, not hers.

And dangerous ground right now, at that. She'd been blown away with shock at the questions raised about the president's childhood in Wednesday's briefing - even more so that evening when Toby had confirmed there was truth behind them. He'd been evasive and reticent in a way that went beyond usual Toby squeamishness about emotional matters, and she had a sinking feeling that he'd managed to hit the president with something deeply insensitive somewhere along the line.

That was the hellish thing about fighting with Toby Ziegler. She'd had shouting matches with plenty of men she'd dated - somehow seemed to naturally attract that sort - but most argumentative people struck their blows with exaggerated, twisted versions of their points, and apologised for it afterwards. When Toby went for the throat, he always did it with the truth.

He was a volatile, obnoxious, arrogantly self-righteous man, impossible to coexist with peaceably. But - God help her - she'd gone out with plenty of 'nice' men since their divorce, and not one of them had ever produced quite that spark she still had for Toby Ziegler.

So here she was again.

"Andy! Hi." A harassed-looking CJ checked her headlong rush to smile at the other woman. "Do you and Toby have a date?"

She shook her head. "We're gonna have a quiet evening in together. I figured..." She shrugged. "Everybody's under enough stress already without keeping up appearances in public."

"Yeah," CJ said, that one syllable loaded with heartfelt weariness. Then she brightened up, obviously a conscious effort. "Oh, but it's not all bad. At least Charlie and Zoey are giving the president something to celebrate."

Andy frowned, and CJ noticed her puzzlement.

"Zoey's having a baby - didn't Toby tell you?"

"No," she said softly.

CJ didn't notice her tone. "Oh, well, you know Toby. Continuation of the human race? Not his pet issue. I think he thinks that children should be popped out fully-grown, fully educated and old enough to vote."

"Yeah." Andy mustered a smile, but it felt a little false. CJ would normally have been perceptive enough to notice, but right now she was running on the absolute limits of her endurance.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I've really got to get back to my office. You and Toby have a good time tonight."

"I'm sure we will," Andy agreed. The automatic bright expression faded as CJ moved away. She chided herself for it, but somehow she couldn't help it. Charlie and Zoey were having a baby - well, good for them. People had kids all the time; couples of all ages and durations were doing it all over the world.

Just not her and Toby.