XIV

Toby left the West Wing before the party began. Nobody would be surprised at his absence, unless they should wander back into the communications department and find he wasn't working, either. Tonight, he had more important things to do.

He tried Andy's apartment first, but found it empty. Even though she had, without ceremony, given him his own key, it felt uncomfortably invasive to be there on his own, and he left quickly.

She was waiting for him at his own home, sitting quietly in the dark. He crossed over to join her without speaking, and waited patiently while she examined the floor in minute detail.

"I was going to call you. I'm sorry," she said after a while.

He shrugged, letting silence signal his forgiveness less awkwardly than words could.

"I just couldn't-" He heard the edge of tears in her voice; she did too, breaking off to collect herself. He covered her hand with his own, a simple, non- intrusive gesture. "I didn't want to be that woman. The one who breaks down in the middle of... everything." She shrugged, almost angrily.

"You're not that woman," he reminded her. Andy snorted slightly.

"I just- I didn't want to cry on you over the phone."

"Okay," he accepted.

There was a long pause before he asked, and he thought he knew the answer, but he couldn't be completely sure.

"No baby?"

"No baby," she confirmed, and mustered a watery smile that collapsed almost immediately into tears. He pulled her close to him, and patted her shoulder quietly.

There'd been enough false alarms like this he should be used to it by now.

He knew he never would be.


CJ bore down on him, muttering furiously. "Kill him. I'm going to kill him," she announced as she approached.

Having witnessed the unexpected last-minute change to the guest list, Sam took a stab at the likely culprit. "Danny?"

"Josh. Both. I'm going to kill them all."

He took a step backwards, on the off-chance that the unspecified 'them' included him, and sought a quick diversion. "The president did well, I thought?"

"With the speech?" Whew, mission accomplished. "Yeah. I'm just glad he managed to keep it short, I had visions of him pitching face forward into the entrée while the Swedish Ambassador took advantage of the distraction to finish the rest of that champagne bottle he was hogging."

Sam hid a smirk behind a sip from his own glass. "And what would be the headline running over that picture, do you think?"

"Press Secretary Quits; Moves to Albania," she supplied without missing a beat. They both watched the president as he cheerfully greeted a couple across the room, patting the man on the shoulder enthusiastically. "That was quite an unusual speech for you, I thought," she continued after a moment. "Unusual style?"

"You didn't like it?" he queried quickly.

"No, I liked it. It was... it was crisp, it was sharper than your usual thing, it was quite-"

"Don't like it too much; I didn't write it," he cautioned. She gave him a piercing look.

"Sam?"

"Well, I not all of it. I kind of co-wrote it with Steve. And I helped him with his instructional manual!" he added brightly, but CJ failed to be distracted.

"Sam, you threw your boyfriend some writing work in the form of a presidential dinner address?"

He shrugged. "Hey, it's not like I paid him for it."

"Good, 'cause there's a term for that."

"Press Secretary Quits; Moves to Albania?"

"That's the one."

The president had moved on from one cluster of guests to another, and was now drifting their way. CJ swilled her wine in the glass, and frowned.

"Sam, is it me, or does the president seem a little... funny?"

He turned to her, puzzled. "Funny, how?"

"Sam!" The president had noticed the two of them. "Samuel! Sam." He bounded over exuberantly, and patted him on the shoulder, a few too many times. "That was a great speech."

"Thank you, Mr. President-"

"Great speech." He continued vaguely tapping Sam's arm as if he'd forgotten what his fingers were doing, and turned to CJ. "And CJ, you look... tall." He blinked. "CJ, are you taller than usual today?"

"No, I'm still my regular size," she assured him patiently.

The president swayed backwards, a little further from his centre of balance than Sam was entirely comfortable with, to look up at her. "Hmm," he said, after a rather lengthy pause for thought. Another possibility eventually came to him, and he looked sideways at the Deputy Communications Director. "Am I shorter than usual, Sam?"

"I... wouldn't think so, Mr. President," he said carefully.

"Okay," he accepted amicably. "Must be the lighting in here. Very... very odd lighting." He was definitely swaying slightly.

"Sir-"

"I should speak to Charlie about that. They should get somebody in here, check the lights. Where's Charlie?"

"He's... standing right behind you, Mr. President," Sam reminded him slowly. The president patted him again, apparently in reward for coming up with this.

"That's right. That's right," he said delightedly. He turned to survey the room. "Hey, there's Leo," he noticed, previous train of thought forgotten. "I should go and talk to Leo."

"That might be a good idea," Sam agreed dryly. He and CJ both watched, almost mesmerised, as the president made his way across the crowded room.

She leaned sideways towards him. "Like that kind of funny," she supplied.

Sam sipped reflectively from his glass. "See, and now I'm thinking perhaps he shouldn't have had champagne on top of his cold medication."

"You think?" CJ said wryly. They watched the president stop to enthusiastically greet a couple of Congressmen. Neither seemed to notice anything amiss.

"So the president's a little tipsy," he shrugged at her. "It's a party. Half the people here are drunk anyway. What's the worst that could happen?"

They exchanged a look. CJ turned away first. "I'll go get the First Lady right now."

"Good idea," he agreed fervently.


The Congresswoman's office was almost empty this late in the day; Josh had to remind himself not everybody kept White House hours. A young man who looked like an intern was whistling something he didn't recognise - which probably covered anything recorded in the last ten years that wasn't a TV news theme - as he stacked files. Josh crossed to tap him on the shoulder.

"Hi, excuse me, I'm looking for a woman named Ashley Bowers?"

He straightened up, and gave Josh a wry look. "Yeah? That would be me."

"Ah." Mental note: fire Donna. He wasn't entirely sure that flawed assumption could be pinned on his assistant, but he was going to take a damn good shot at it. "I think I have... bad information."

The secretary held his gaze, seemingly unfazed. "Well, you don't look too much like a Donnatella, either, so I guess we'll call it even," he said dryly.

"Ah, yes. A little subterfuge there," Josh said smugly.

"So I noticed." He frowned slightly. "Forgive me, Mr. Lyman, but can I ask why you set up a meeting with me? I have to say it doesn't look like a particularly sensible allocation of your time."

"Because you weren't answering my calls."

"Actually, I answered all your calls, I just didn't give you the answer you wanted to hear," he corrected smoothly. "The Congresswoman was unavailable. The Congresswoman is still unavailable. I appreciate your tenacity, but I'm afraid it's not going to change the salient point here, that being, the Congresswoman is unavailable."

"For me, she's available," he said confidently.

"Then, one would think, the fact that she's remained consistently unavailable despite your repeated calling would suggest that she has a good reason for being so."

"Such as?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information," he said calmly. Too calmly; he wasn't reacting like your average Congressional secretary who'd had his boss's office suddenly invaded by the White House Deputy Chief of Staff. Somebody had clearly prepped him well for what to expect.

"Then divulge this," Josh said abruptly. "We have good reason to believe your boss leaked information of an important deal to Brenda Garland of the New York Times, at the instigation of her old college friend Senator McGann, which resulted in the messy implosion of said deal, and a severe impediment to the passing of a bill that this administration has spent a great deal of time, money, and bargaining power ensuring." Rattling all that off in one go, he took a brief pause for breath. "You mind telling me what the hell she thought she was thinking?"

The fact that the didn't look immediately baffled at such a bizarre accusation told Josh a great deal of what he needed to know. "I... don't think I can help you there, Mr. Lyman," said Bowers, just a touch dryly. "Obviously, if you've got some reason to think she was involved in this, you'll have to talk to the Congresswoman."

"Obviously," he said sardonically. The secretary gave him a mild shrug.

"And yet... the Congresswoman is still unavailable. Perhaps you should try again tomorrow," he said with a guileless smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Lyman? I have filing to do."

Josh left the office with no further answers - but not unsatisfied. He still had no earthly idea why Selena McGann should want to sabotage this bill... but he knew without a doubt she was the culprit. McGann was involved, Wells was involved, and so was Wells' secretary. Three people made a chain - and where you had a chain, you inevitably had a weak link. All he had to do now was keep chipping away from all sides until somebody caved...