The Last Wave By

The end of anything is a difficult concept to consider. Change is something that people fear, with or without good reason. Change is unsettling. It involves leaving the status quo for something different, something new. But change is necessary. Without change, nothing moves forward, nothing improves. Without change there is only stagnation.

Change involves a shift from endings to beginnings as a matter of definition. Sometimes the shift is toward the end. Sometimes it's toward the beginning. But it's always there. The only thing that never changes is change itself.

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"Couldn't sleep?" Toby asked.

Alex jumped, whirling around to peer into the darkness of the den. "Toby?" she asked, sounding more than a little startled.

Toby reached out to turn on the lamp, answering, "Yeah. Take a seat."

Alex obeyed wordlessly, stepping into the room and sinking down into one of the two easy chairs. The overstuffed chairs were like echoes of the big leather recliners that had once inhabited Jed's library back at the Manchester house. The two chairs were even arranged in the same way, framing the fireplace. They'd been arranged that way on purpose.

"So, you couldn't sleep?" Toby repeated, even though the question itself was obviously superfluous.

Alex nodded solemnly, leaning back into the chair. "There's way too much going on inside my head right now for me to even try."

"That's understandable," Toby told her. "You are, after all, on the brink of making a decision that'll change your life irrevocably. There's no coming back from something like this."

"Thanks for that," Alex answered testily. "Because I'm not scared enough already."

"What's there to be scared about?" he demanded.

"What isn't there to be scared about?" she countered with a derisive chuckle.

Toby shrugged noncommittally. "You tell me," he said, sinking deeper into the chair and crossing his arms over his chest as he waited. He was still in his shirtsleeves; he obviously hadn't been to bed yet either, probably waiting up in anticipation of the conversation.

Alex sighed and dropped her head down into her hands. "What if this is all for nothing?" she asked. "What if after everything, we're no further than where we are now?"

"Then we try again in four years. And if that doesn't work, we try again after that. And we keep trying until something finally works," Toby replied firmly. "I've been a professional political operative all of my life, but until Jed Bartlet came along, I hadn't won a single election. Not one."

"What was different about Jed's campaign?" she asked quietly.

"He was the real thing," Toby declared. "And so are you. We've just got to show that to the rest of the country."

"How can you be so sure?" she whispered uncertainly.

Toby just shrugged. "It's one of those intangible things that can't be explained. It's like knowing when a pie is cooked. Or what clothes need to be washed in cold water."

Alex raised her eyebrows wordlessly at him.

"Fine," Toby ceded, "those aren't the best examples."

"No," Alex agreed with a laugh, "I don't think so."

"Well, it's like how you know you love someone," Toby supplied gruffly after a second.

"Okay," Alex answered thoughtfully. Toby didn't reply immediately and the two lapsed into silence.

"You know, you can still back out of this thing," Toby reminded her after a minute had passed. "It's not too late."

Alex sat quietly for another moment, her mind a million miles away. She was silent for so long that Toby started to finger the cuff of his shirt, starting to wonder if she would, in fact, decide that she wanted to withdraw from the race before they'd even had a chance to fire the starting gun.

Then she leaned forward, her face set. She'd made her decision.

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"Let's do it."

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"Pace yourself, Joshua," Donna chided lightly. "You haven't even gotten out of bed yet."

"Donna, this is going to be the biggest presidential election in the history of presidential elections," Josh responded excitedly, throwing off his blankets and bounding out of bed. It was moments like this when he didn't look a day of his sixty-five years. "Today is the start of it all."

"I'm sure that no one will start anything without you," she answered indulgently. "Even if you do take the extra twenty minutes that shaving and showering will take."

"Yeah, but we've got people to pick up at the airport. And make sure we're at the restaurant on time for breakfast. Toby and Sam are still adding things to the speech and we've got to make sure they finish on time," Josh listed as he headed toward the bathroom.

"I thought that Alex's parents drove in from Rhode Island last night," Donna commented, moving at a much more leisurely pace as she slid her feet into her slippers.

"They got in late last night," Josh told her around his toothbrush.

When he didn't volunteer any more information, Donna's curiosity got the better of her. "Then who exactly are we picking up at the airport?" she asked. "Both of Jack's parents died years ago."

"Well, in spite of all Toby's ranting about us not having any staff with which to launch a campaign…"

"We're going to have a staff after all," Donna cut him off, laughing. "Have you told Toby yet?"

Josh shook his head happily, a huge grin on his face. "I thought it would be funnier if they just showed up at breakfast."

"You organized this on your own?" she questioned incredulously, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "And managed to keep it a secret from everyone?"

"Well, Sarah got in touch with everyone and made sure that they could get time off. And CJ co-ordinated the travel plans," Josh admitted.

"So, in other words, the only thing that you're responsible for is picking them up at the airport?"

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"Well, if you want to look at it that way…"

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"I don't see how there's any other way to look at it," Sam protested. "We've only got three hours before she's got to give this speech, Toby."

"That doesn't matter," Toby protested, rolling his eyes. "I still don't like this section here. It just doesn't sound right. It sounds like something I would have written into Jed's farewell address, not like something we want to say when we're declaring candidacy for the presidency." Toby sighed and ran his hand down over his face. "We've got to rewrite it. Not just that section, but the whole thing."

Sam echoed the sigh and hit the delete key on his laptop. "Fine," he conceded. "But I have no idea where to start over."

Toby leaned back and crossed his arms. "Unfortunately, that makes two of us."

Sam shook his head and took off his glasses, tossing them down on the table. "Three hours, two writers, and one unfinished speech," he declared, staring at the cursor blinking on the blank computer screen.

"Would you mind if I had a try?" someone from behind them asked nervously.

"Be my guest," Toby growled without turning around to see who it was. "Right now, a monkey with a typewriter could do better. I think that even Josh could do better at this point."

"Where is Josh anyway?" Sam inquired. "I thought he would have been the first one here this morning."

"Mea culpa," the voice said. "He would have been earlier, but my flight in from LA was delayed because of the weather."

Finally Toby and Sam turned to see who was standing behind them. Sam stared blankly at the stranger while Toby's eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the college student he'd interview and that Alex had recruited. "Three hours, three speechwriters, and one speech," Toby corrected.

"Patrick Cohen," the young man said, extending his hand to Sam. "I don't believe that we've met yet."

"Sam Seaborn," Sam answered returning the handshake firmly. Then he turned to Toby, still sitting at his side in a state of shock. "And you didn't think that we'd have any staff," he commented wryly.