Title: Peripheral Vision

Author: Tinkerbell99

Rating: T

Disclaimer: The characters are not my creation, they belong to someone else.

Summary: And so it was that Donna joined the campaign, but what else happened that day? Told from the points of view of those on the outside of the main event.

POV: Sam

"Toby?" He's headed away from CJ's area now. Maybe I can actually speak with my boss for a few minutes. Too bad he's ignoring me or that might be remotely plausible.

"Toby." Now he's heading toward the vending machines - full steam ahead. Consequently, so am I.

"Toby!"

"What could you possibly, and I mean possibly, want from me right now, Sam?" He pauses partway down a short flight of stairs to allow a blonde woman carrying a crate of files to pass.

"Well for starters, a quick conversation if it isn't too inconvenient. I've been yelling at you since you came out of CJ's office."

"Office?"

I dodge the woman with the files in an attempt to catch up with Toby, then nearly trip as he stops abruptly in front of the Coke machine. He should really warn people when he's going to stop like that. "Cubicle. Filing cabinet area. Whatever. I wanted to talk to you about the thing this morning."

"The thing this morning is over. Well, actually, no, that isn't completely true. In order for something to be over it must first begin. But that's neither here nor there. We move on. Move on." He starts digging through his pocket looking for, I'm assuming, change.

"No, but what I wanted to ask was -"

"Move on, Sam." He produces a dollar bill and attempts to smooth it against the corner of the machine.

"I'm moving on. I am. But since I'd prepared the Governor's remarks for the interview I wondered if -"

"It doesn't sound as if you're moving on." He sighs and runs his hand over his head before unsuccessfully attempting to feed the dollar into the machine. "Channel Seven wants the Governor on at six o'clock tonight. He'll be speaking to a group of local supporters and taking a few questions. If we're lucky, the major news outlets will pick up the story and run it as B roll on their evening editions. I need you writing." All the while the machine makes a discouraging phweetpherrrrr, phweetpherrrr sound as it takes in the dollar, only to spit it out seconds later.

"Right, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Phweetpherrrr "You're drinking soda?"

"Move on, Sam."

"I was just asking because you didn't seem like the -"

"Sam!"

"Right. I have the remarks prepared for this morning, but I wondered how we should adjust them for this evening." Giving up on the dollar bill, he snatches the paper from my hands and stands in the neon light of the vending machines reading. I watch him for a few moments, his mouth barely moving, no sound, eyes darting across the page, until suddenly they raise to meet mine. "You wondered…how we should adjust this?"

That didn't sound good.

"Well, I was really wondering if we needed to adjust it at all. We're still on message for the day, and why mow your grass and cut it too?" I really need to stop saying things like that. Maybe that's why he doesn't like me. Actually, I doubt that.

"Mow your…Never mind. I don't care. I need you writing. Rewriting." He's trying one more time for the soda.

"So it needs to change?"

"Yes it needs to change!" Phweetpherrrr "Dammit!" He tosses the dollar to the floor and turns his wrath on me. "It's a larger event now and he's speaking to a completely different crowd with completely different issues at stake. I need you coordinating with CJ and with Josh to make this happen." He hands back my first draft of remarks. "And if I were you, I'd begin by changing 'Good morning, fellow Americans' to 'Good evening.'"

With that, he begins to walk away, but not before I take the plunge and tell him one last thing. "Toby…The thing this morning…It wasn't her fault." He stops mid-step and turns.

"Sam!"

"Toby, I'm just saying. It wasn't her fault. She'll think it was, but we both know that -"

"Show me what you have done in one hour. I'll make notes." He's up the stairs before I can ask him whether 'Good afternoon' might be a better option.

Fantastic.

I swing back through headquarters intent on running through the evening's event with Josh before retreating to the relative calm of my corner. I'm met with a sight that stops me dead in my tracks in astonishment.

Josh Lyman is making coffee. Or at least he's trying to. Coffee doesn't seem to be in production at this point despite Josh frantically tapping the decanter.

Something's going on here.

"Josh?"

"Hey."

"You're making coffee." It was really meant as more of an observation, but apparently Josh took it as a question.

"Yes. Yes. I am. My, uh, assistant asked me to. Actually she ordered me to."

"You have an assistant?" I mean, I have an assistant. Well, technically Toby has an assistant. One he is reluctant to share. Which is just as well, I suppose, since she kind of frightens me.

"Yeah. She's new. She…" He trails off with this funny smile on his face. "She doesn't like to make coffee. For me anyway. Or anybody."

"You have an assistant. And she ordered you…to make coffee?"

"So it would seem." He's tapping the top of the machine now with an increasingly perplexed look on his face. It may move this along a bit faster if I help him out, and after I plug in the machine, we're on our way back to his office.

"Thanks."

"Right. So, about this thing tonight. I'm rewriting remarks and wanted to run it through you and CJ."

"Yeah, that's fine. You know, the thing this morning wasn't her fault."

"I know that." Someone should probably tell Toby, though.

"I just say that because, you know, she's gotta be having a pretty bad day what with the tradeoff of the press event for the boxes in the kitchen."

"Yeah." That's probably an understatement.

"Anyway, it looks like tonight's gonna get some national coverage. Donna can get you an event schedule later today."

"Donna?"

"Yeah." He grins. "My assistant."

I need to work. "Okay. I'm writing for a while. But, the kitchen thing, though. It was the right thing to do, right? I mean, it was bad timing, but…" .

"Yeah. Yeah, it was. The right thing."

"SAM!" Toby is on the prowl once again. Time to make myself scare. I edge past Margaret, who is in a harried conversation with the blonde woman from the stairs.

I don't catch much as I tiptoe past their conversation, just something about overflow and campaign badges. Josh bellows for Donna, and the blonde turns to answer.

So that would be Josh's assistant. Interesting.

"SAM!"

"I'm writing, Toby."

At least I will be if I can find some decent coffee.