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 through the voices of those on the outside of the main event.

POV: Sam

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"Sam!" Toby's feet appear in my line of vision.

He isn't going to like this.

"Sam!"

Of course, it's not really my fault. It's the computer's fault. Or possibly the printer's. If I just explain to him that it's not my fault then-

"Where the hell are you?"

Yeah, that's probably not going to work.

"I'm here."

"Where?" His feet are alarmingly close to my head.

"Under my desk."

"What the hell are you doing under your desk?"

"I was, I'm…Nothing. I was just- Ow!" My head makes contact with the underside of my desk as I attempt to emerge and meet my fate. "I was just checking the wiring."

"Why were you…Whatever. I need the thing for tonight."

"It's coming. It is." I hope. "I just need to adjust the wiring and then I'll finish it."

Crawling out from under my desk, I slowly rise to the level of Toby's increasingly irritated face. "Are you saying, Sam, that you have yet to finish the speech?"

"I'm saying that I have yet to put it to paper. It's in my head and it's somewhere in the computer, it's just not on the paper. Yet."

"So what you're saying is that you have yet to put on paper the speech which is to be presented in less than an hour and a half?"

"Yes, but there's no reason to panic."

"Panic?" It's never a good thing when he looks at me with that expression. "Panic, Sam? Why would I panic?" Now he's laughing. Somehow, though, I don't think that means he's actually amused. "He's getting into the car right now! Why would I panic!"

This is a time for calm and for confidence. Failing those two things, this is a time for complete and utter lies. "And I'm saying there's no reason to. It's just a minor computer glitch. I'm relatively certain there's just something wrong with the wiring. I'll fix it and print the thing out." Maybe if I distract him, he'll leave me alone. "Say, I heard you had pie."

"Sam…"

That didn't work.

"…Can't you just save it to a disk and print it out somewhere else?"

"I could do that." I wish I had done that. I wish I'd done that before unscrewing the back of the thing and pulling out all those wires. "I mean, I could have done that."

"Could have?"

"Well, now there seems to be a problem with the computer itself, not just the printer." In the interest of my health, I don't think he needs to know that this problem could possibly be my fault.

"What kind of a problem, Sam?"

"I can't turn it on."

"Can't turn what on?"

"The computer. I can't turn it on."

"Have you tried?"

"Toby! Of course I tried. See, I can push the button but nothing happens." I demonstrate, but the machine just sits there in silence.

"Is it plugged in?"

"Oh yes, it's plugged in, it's just not working…which is where we have our problem."

"We?"

"Well, me, really. But I'm working on it." I jiggle some loose wires in back of the printer in hopes of a miracle. "I'm almost positive I'll have a solution in a few minutes." Seeing Toby's purple face, I feel the need to amend that statement. "I mean, I will have a solution in a few minutes."

Beep. The wire jiggling seems to have worked. Thank God. Now I can get Toby off my back, print the thing out, and start packing for tomorrow. "Aha! It beeped, it's on and the screen is on and now we are in business. All I need to do is change the part where…" I trail off as Toby and I observe the message on the screen.

A fatal error has occurred. Please contact your support professional for assistance. This cheery little note is accompanied by the ever-ominous blue screen of death. This doesn't look good.

Toby's fingers flutter over the top of his head as he reads the screen. "Fatal error, Sam?"

"I'm sure it's not all that bad. If I just re-boot it, maybe it will go away."

"Maybe it will go away," he repeats. "Maybe it…The event tonight hinges on the age-old philosophy of maybe it will go away? Why am I not at all confident at this point?"

"Toby, relax. I'll fix it." I hope.

"Yes, yes, you will. The reason that I know this is that if you don't it will be your face, Sam, your face and not the computer screen with the fatal error! Do you understand my meaning?"

"Yes, yes, absolutely."

"Good, now get back under the damn desk and call the computer guy to come and fix this. I'm riding with the Governor and Leo to the site. Josh is leaving in half an hour. Ride with him and bring the speech with you."

I nod, hoping Toby will leave me in peace. "I'm sure it's just a loose wire somewhere-"

"Do not talk to me about the wiring! You know what doesn't have wiring? Notepads. Little yellow sheets of paper. No wiring. Just a pen and when that runs out of ink, you know what you do?"

"Get a new pen?"

"Yes. You get a new pen. Now get under that desk and do not - and I mean do NOT - come out until you have the speech."

I nod.

"I mean it. Live under there. Sleep under there, even. But do not let me see you again without the speech in your hand. Understood?" He's headed toward the door. Finally.

I nod, still waiting for him to leave.

"Sam!"

"What?"

"Under the desk!"

"Right." I scramble around my chair and duck for cover beneath the top of my desk. I watch as Toby's feet retreat into the lobby. Taking a deep breath, I look again at the mass of cords on the back of the box. Maybe it's the red wire…

Twenty more minutes of work yields nothing but a mild electrical shock and a few sparks. This isn't going well. This isn't going well at all.

"Sam?" Josh's shoes approach the edge of my desk.

"Yeah." Maybe they're color coded…

"We're heading out in a couple minutes, just thought I'd let you know."

"Okay." When did that extra cord appear?

"Sam…What're you doing under the desk?"

"I'm trying to fix the computer." Josh's knees enter my field of vision, and soon his face appears as well.

"Can't you leave it for later? We gotta go."

"Well, I could leave it for later. The only problem with that plan is that the speech is on the computer."

"The speech for tonight?" He begins to edge under the desk with me. "You don't have a hard copy?" I shake my head. Josh's eyes widen, then crinkle in amazement. "Wow. What are all those wires?"

"The wires are…I don't know. What I do know is that Toby will kill me if I can't get this to work."

"Well, did you try just plugging them all back in?" He reaches around to the back of the machine and starts rearranging blue and red cords while I do my best to help. Or at least to look like I know what I'm doing.

"Josh? Are you under there?" There's a new pair of feet in the room now, and they're wearing high heels. Again, very close to my head. Josh freezes in mid connection and looks to me in a mild panic.

A head with blonde hair attached appears beneath the desk. "What are you two doing to that computer?"

Josh recovers enough for an introduction. "Sam, this is my assistant, Donna. Donna, this is Sam." Handshakes are a little awkward, seeing as I'm beneath a piece of oak, but Donna and I exchange quick smiles before she resumes her inspection of the disaster that used to be my workspace.

"So…Why are you taking apart a computer?"

"Well, we're not, really. It's just that there's a very important speech on the computer…and we're trying to get it out."

"By ripping out all the wires?" She seems unconvinced.

"By putting them back together."

"Well, you should stop. Stop now. Don't you have someone who fixes these things?"

"Tried that. They can come first thing in the morning."

"Great!"

"Not when we need the speech tonight."

"Oh. Well, stop taking it apart. You could make it worse. I'll…do something with it. You two go get dressed. Go on. Go." One look at my coffee stained shirt tells me she's right about one thing. I do need to change. Unfortunately, I think she's wrong in saying the computer could get any worse. We've pretty much hit bottom on that one. Donna shoos us toward the door as we emerge from the desk. Glancing back, I see her peering at the mass of wires with a determined frown.

"Come on." Josh claps a hand on my shoulder and steers me away from my office.

"Can she really fix that?"

"I have no idea but I'm not about to be the one to tell her she can't."

"You're scared of your assistant, too?"

"Little bit."

Fifteen minutes later, there's a speech in my hand. I'm not sure how it happened, but I did see Margaret with a screwdriver and Donna with a roll of tinfoil and who really wants to ask questions about that?

"Let's go." Josh grabs his coat and we file out the door, Donna close behind. It's now 5:38PM. Just enough time to proofread, get to the site, hand off the speech, and not be killed by my boss.

We move quickly down the steps and take a left into the parking lot, me making notes in the margins as I walk. We enter the lot at a near jog and head to the rear. I glance at my watch. 5:40PM. We power walk a little farther, past the row of spots reserved for senior staff and assistants. Then we actually hit the rear of the lot. And we've not yet arrived at a car. Looking up from my notes, I notice for the first time that we may have a problem. Apparently, so does Josh. "Ahhh, Sam? Where's your car?"

"My car? I returned it to the rental place this morning. I thought we were looking for your car." 5:41PM.

"Noooo…my car is back at the hotel. I was following you."

"So we don't have a car." My mouth has gone suddenly dry.

"No."

"We have nineteen minutes and we don't have a car." And my heart is no longer beating a steady rhythm.

"No."

"Well, that's the end of my job."

"Sam-"

"No, actually it's the end of my life." Might as well be accurate.

"I'm sure we can-"

"No, Josh. We have-" I look at my watch "-eighteen minutes now before the Governor gets on that stage. I'm a dead man."

"We can get a cab…" He looks around the street. One old woman on a bicycle pedals leisurely by. "Do they have cabs in New Hampshire?"

"Even if they do, we don't have time to find a-"

"I can drive." I find myself staring at Donna, then at Josh, who is doing pretty much the same thing. "I have my car." Josh and I continue to stare. "I drove it here from Wisconsin. I mean, it's not the most-"

"Let's go." One very fast about-face, and we're on our way to Donna's car.