PART ONE

June 2002 (The same day) 4.00 PM

Sam lay down on the deck of his boat, closed his eyes and tried to relax.

The day was incredible - blue sky, calm waters, just enough wind to allow him to take his boat out for a while - a welcome change after two weeks of uninterrupted rain.

The noise of the waves softly hitting the boat's bottom encouraged him to indulge in some daydreaming.

Sam had always considered that the summer constituted a new beginning - not the spring, not the new year, but summer, when the sun was at his highest, the days were longer, and warmer. His friends often joked about it, saying it was his way to cling to his college habits, when summer also meant the end of an academic year, the return home, and the preparation for the next academic year. He didn't disagree, but he thought there was more to it than that.

Summer made him see everything in a new light. It was in the hottest days of the year that he took resolutions, not in January. Summer made him optimistic.

Or rather it used to, before Rosslyn, when his friend had spent weeks in a hospital, then months in his home, recovering from the act of three mad kids. And the summer after that had been spent wondering what was going to happen to him - would there be hearings, would people think he was a liar, would the staff get over Mrs Landingham? Some days, he still expected to see her scolding him. "You lost weight again, Samuel. Take a cookie." He smiled sadly. Everyone missed her, and last May, everyone had spent at least two days walking around gloomily - the anniversary of Rosslyn, the anniversary of Mrs Landingham's death.

And then, Simon.

Sam sighed and opened his eyes, staring at the sky.

CJ hadn't been the same since New York. And the others, by reaction, weren't the same either. When CJ hurt, every one of them did too. She was often the one who took care of them and now that she had to take the time to mourn the wasted opportunity of her almost-story with the agent, they all wondered how they could help her back.

Toby had tried more than once to get through to her, but she only seemed to withdraw more each time. His boss wasn't taking it well. He had known CJ for quite a while. Sam still remembered the tale of the Californian pool, when Toby had gone to fetch her for the Bartlet's campaign. Yes, those two had a history, much like he and Josh had known each other for long before the Bartlet days.

Josh. The smile he had been wearing at the idea of CJ swimming in her dress vanished and he sighed inwardly. It seemed he couldn't get anything without paying such a high price. the whole year, the last three years in fact, had been a roller coaster. Each time they won something, they lost something bigger. Each time he was happy about something, something came along and took the feeling away.

Josh, who didn't look at him in the eyes anymore, who hadn't since Sam had told him, one morning "The President talked to me last night."

He often wondered what had happened between them. Did Josh regret bringing him on board? Did he think that Sam should have reacted better at all that had happened? Did he even like him anymore?

After the MS disclosure, each member of the staff had put up his barriers, not letting anyone through. The man they trusted most in the world had betrayed them, and who knew where the next blow would come from? It was just safer that way.

Sam still felt bad about the lie, even now - he understood that the President had wanted to keep his private problems, private, but he had to have know that people would find out the truth eventually. And he also knew that most of the people who had come to help him had literally turned away from their lives - granted, most of them didn't have all that much to regret, but still, it had been a leap of faith, and God knew they had been burned with this one.

He had thought that after the censure, things would settle between Josh and him, but they'd only seemed to worsen. Each move one of them made to reach the other seemed contrived, forced. It was painful to do, and he was pretty sure it was painful to watch for the rest of their friends.

There had been a few highlights - the Russia thing being the more obvious, when Josh had let him stand up for himself, had trusted him on an issue. And the State of the Union, too, when Josh had tried to help him face Lisa. Kind of. But how could he be sure he did these things out of friendship, really? To him, it looked almost as if Josh felt guilty about something, and tried to make up for it. Or worse, maybe he pitied him, because his idealism had taken blows and he had a hard time recovering from it.

He sighed again, thinking back to happier times, of their days on the Hill. They'd always been different, in their way of treating people, in their way of negotiating, in their political views even, sometimes. And somewhere along the line, he had to admit that listening to Josh had begun to weigh on him. He wanted to make his voice heard, he didn't want to repeat whatever had been approved by his friend. And the methods Josh used, which he'd once considered to be born of experience, were now striking him as opposed to his own principles. He didn't like the changes he saw in his friend, and he didn't know how to deal with it. But he was sure he didn't want to play the youngest member of the team anymore, the naïve kid who knew less than the others.

Maybe it was that, more than anything, that had put the nail in their friendship. Or maybe it was the tape. Josh hadn't said a word to him about that, and it had been worse than if he'd yelled at him. The only time Sam had tried to bring it up, he had just said that he didn't have the time, and walked away. Was he mad? Was he embarrassed to have recommended Sam to Leo? He didn't know, and the situation was uncomfortable - it was a point that didn't quite fit in with the rest of his life. It was always there, somewhere at the back of his mind, and it was getting irritating.

Maybe they should address it. Sam wasn't someone who let his friends down, ever. If there was a way to fix heir friendship, he would try. But he was still reluctant to bring it up. Something told him that it would only make things worse. Friendship, when left unattended, has a tendency to fade out. He should have learned that after letting a few of his high school or college friends stay out of touch for too long. Something told him that at this point, any attempt to salvage his relationship with Josh would only result in making things worse.

To bring it up or not to bring it up had become a pressing question for him. Maybe he should ask someone.

Maybe he should ask Toby.

His boss would probably groan that he was overreacting, but he wouldn't dismiss his concern. That's what he loved about Toby. He could pretend all he wanted that he didn't care, everyone knew it was just a façade. Deep down, Toby worried constantly about the people who were close to him. He just had a strange way of showing it.

"I'm so proud of you."

These few words from his boss had done more for his state of mind than three years in therapy would have. Toby's approval meant the world to him, it always had. And his "so you made a mistake, get over it already" attitude had done even more.

Smiling again, he shot a look at the sky and decided to head home. He would probably be in time for the game. Maybe he would even have the time to grab something to eat.

A pizza, he was in the mood for a pizza.

A pizza, a beer, and the game. And maybe he'd call Toby, just for the sake of making him yell that he had work to do, damn it.

His stomach growled and he smiled.

Yes, definitely time to head back.

* * * * *

White House 9.00 PM

Toby was at his desk, going through the last of the drafts Sam had prepared for him to take a look at. The president had quite a few events he had to attend, and he needed comments for them.

"After all these years of Princeton and law school, he still doesn't know where to put a comma," he thought, vaguely amused.

His deputy's style was an old argument between them. It had taken him a while to understand and admit why their team was so efficient. They completed each other perfectly. Sam's writing, too poetic, his own, too practical - the two of them could only write great speeches.

Besides, the drafts showed him that Sam was indeed doing better. Toby had insisted to Leo that the younger man didn't need baby sitters, but he had been worried himself. Sam rarely exploded. With him, everything was quiet, even anger. Which didn't make him less dangerous, on the contrary. He had seen it countless times, like with Lilienfield, and after the shooting. Toby had screamed at a few people, Sam had calmly examined the possibilities of a lawsuit.

He shot a look at the clock. Good, he had actually managed to do half the things he needed to do. It was as far from being over as it would get today, and there was a game tonight. Sam was going to ask him to come by, he just knew it. His deputy did that all the time, and never seemed disappointed when Toby sent him away harshly. But he also seemed glad when he accepted. Surprised, and happy.

They usually settled on Sam's couch, drinking beer, eating Chinese, and screaming at the players. And talking speechwriting, of course.

Once upon a time, Josh joined them on these gatherings, but he had been more scarce recently. Amy explained a lot of that, but he'd also noticed that the relationship between Sam and Josh had become more strained after the MS announcement. He sometimes wondered whether they'd ever be able to work it out. It didn't look like any of them made any effort to mend the fences, but then he didn't watch them all that closely.

He sighed. They all needed to close up ranks, he knew it, and he had the feeling it was getting more urgent by the hour. They'd had a bad year, after two other bad years, and along the way, they'd stopped being the family they once were. Alliances had been forged, like between Toby and Sam, curiously, others had been disregarded, like between Josh and CJ, who didn't seem all that close right now. They needed to band up for re- election, and to face whatever life would throw at them next time.

But how were you supposed to put together such a bunch of strong personalities, he wondered, closing the door to his office.

* * * * *

Amy's apartment 9.30 PM

Josh sat down contentedly in front of the TV and put his feet on the table. One look from Amy made him reconsider, and he put his feet on the floor sheepishly.

"Don't get too comfortable," she warned, "we're going out."

"We are?"

"Josh! The party I told you about weeks ago? Don't tell me you've already forgotten."

He had already forgotten, of course. He had about ten thousand things on his mind right then, between the re-election, Bruno's people, the bill they were trying to get passed and the fact that Donna wasn't talking to him anymore, again, because of some imaginary transgression. The last thing he wanted to do was attend a party, but of course, Amy wasn't going to take "no" for an answer.

After a good half hour of cajoling, bullying and yelling, Josh was in his room, putting on a tuxedo and trying to look at the bright side.

If only he could find the bright side.

Amy was waiting for him in the living room when he came back, her arms crossed, a smile on her face.

"You look good in a tux," she said.

"I know," he answered smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Modesty, thy name is Joshua Lyman," she said under her breath.

"That's what Donna keeps saying," Josh snickered.

"Donna has all my compassion. Can we go now?"

He sighed. "Who will be there anyway?"

"You'll see when we get there."

She was already dragging him by the arm when a sudden intuition made him ask, "Wait, don't tell me that Pete is going to - "

Her face, suddenly guilty and worried, answered better than anything she could have said.

"Oh, no! No, Amy. I hate that jackass."

"He's not a jackass, he's just - "

"Just a republican that's been on our case since day one of the administration," he completed sourly. "You're going to drag me to a party where I'll have to be polite to that scum?"

She stopped in front of the door and looked at him for a while, chewing on her lower lip. "If you're really nice to him, there'll be sex by the end of the evening."

He bit back his retort and pretended to consider her proposition. How do you tell your girlfriend that the prospect of having sex with her isn't worth being polite to a republican?

Simple, you didn't tell her.

He sighed and put on a smile. "Well, if you put it that way," he said, trying to fake enthusiasm as best as he could.

She obviously didn't pick up on it, and smiled widely. "That's my man," she said approvingly, and Josh refrained from a grimace. "Come on, we don't want to be late."

"No, of course not," he said, following her outside, and wondering what could possibly make his day any worse.