Ehh. Sorry for the wait, and sorry for this content. We'll do something exciting next chapter. For now, enjoy this angst-ridden Toby and Sam scene.

It was probably the fact that he had been in California for so long, but the Washington air Sam was experiencing right now seemed colder before, more chilling. But, then again, maybe it was because things just weren't right without Leo being around.

Regardless of whatever crazy reason that was making the air feel colder, Sam was enjoying being back – well, could he call it home? – and seeing old places and reminiscing about a time long passed. Of course, he hadn't even had time to see either Josh or Donna, but C.J. had penciled him in and Toby – well, Sam was always going over to see Toby.

There was no point in saying that Sam had been apprehensive going to see him. They hadn't seen one another in a while, and, though they would trade e-mails back and forth, it just wasn't the same as working together. There wasn't a rubber ball bouncing against the wall to alert Sam whenever he was needed. And, now, with the trial? Well, it wasn't as if Toby was the same guy totally. But, that didn't matter. It wasn't as if Sam had to treat him any differently.

The first day had been a bit rocky, but now, things were fine. Sam would sit around while Toby worked on something to say at Leo's funeral, they'd discuss the election, and, maybe, if Sam were lucky, he'd get Toby to talk about Huck and Molly – if he were lucky.

Today Toby had called Sam's cell phone and claimed that he was done with his tribute to Leo. So, Sam hopped in his rental car and drove over, only to sit on Toby's sofa and watch his old boss mull over what he had written – again.

"I'm going to go get some more coffee, okay?"

"Huh?"

"I said I'm going to go get some more coffee."

"Okay."

Sam rolled his eyes as he went to get his refill over the fact that Toby's eyes hadn't even moved from the paper with the speech on it. In a way, Sam supposed, it was good that Toby was focusing on something other than his own trial – but in another way, it was kind of sad to see him so obsessed with writing this speech. It wasn't as if it was his only thing to live for, but it certainly was one of the really only good things he had going on in his life right now.

After taking as long as possible to get his latest caffeine jolt, Sam returned to his place on Toby's sofa. Toby, however, was still pacing back and forth, and back, and forth, and back and forth, trying to get the language right. It used to be like this for the State of the Union.

"How's it going?" Sam interjected, blowing on his coffee to cool it down.

"Fine," grumbled Toby.

Sam sighed. Conversation was what the two of them needed, so he'd try his best. "It seems colder here to me." No response. "Maybe it's just because I've been out west so long where, you know, we don't get these brief glacial seasons. But, I would have thought that I'd be able to handle the weather here, because I had lived on the Atlantic side of the country for many more years in the recent past, and only California for my, well, formative ones. And, I could handle New York, and I used to be able to handle D.C., but now it seems that my time spent in, well, the O.C. has made me unprepared for the cold weather in – the D.C. Which I think is pretty funny. From one two letter loc—"

"What the hell are you talking about?" A-ha! Success for Sam. Toby had finally cracked and spoken seven words, dropping the hand with the sheet down to his side and putting the arm with the pen-in-hand pointed at Sam's head.

"Just making conversation. Talking about the weather."

Toby rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm being – distracted."

"Whoa."

He turned to Sam. "What?"

"You just – apologized."

Toby chuckled. "Yeah, imagine that. Being incarcerated will do that to a guy."

Sam cringed. "Nah. I just think you've gone soft in your old age."

"Maybe," Toby replied as if his mind were somewhere else. "Maybe."

"You almost done with that thing? I got an urgent phone call telling me to get my ass over here because someone was done, but now I've been waiting for a little while and I have yet to hear your thing for the funeral."

"In a minute. It's gotta be good since I'm not going to be there. Leo would probably hate all this."

"Your speech?"

"My speech, your speech, everyone's speeches. All this to-do about him. I think Leo would have been happy if we had a private little ceremony in a funeral parlor and laid him to rest."

"No color guard."

"Yeah." Toby sighed and took a seat next to Sam on the sofa. "Do you know who it is who's arraigned the funeral?" he mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"Who is it that got the church, minister, flowers, I don't know, all that stuff."

"You mean did the President do it or did Mallory."

"I mean did the President or Leo's family."

"The President."

"Okay."

"What does it matter?" Sam sighed.

"Nothing. I was just curious."

Try as he might, there was no way Toby could pretend to not be upset over missing the funeral and dupe Sam. Reasoning with him was the only thing Sam saw to do. "Toby, seriously, you we can sneak you in—"

"Who's we and how the hell do you think you'll be able to manage that?" he sharply laughed, taking to his feet.

"I don't know – let C.J. talk to the President—"

"Yeah, because C.J.'s definitely the one who should be involved with trying to get me to sneak into a funeral."

"She can convince the President."

"Convince him to do what, Sam?" Toby snarled. "Anything short of an Executive Order I'm breaking whatever the hell house arrest I'm under."

"Not necessarily."

"Do you want to break federal code?"

"Why not, Toby? It's not as if anyone's really going to give a damn. The President doesn't have to know you're there. We can, I don't know, we can dress you up in a disguise if it really comes to that."

"I'm already having Andy talk for me."

"At the funeral?"

"Yes. Yes," Toby responded, bringing his hand up to his face, marveling at the fact that he'd just gotten into an argument with Sam over some law like the old days when people hadn't left to go west or work for someone else or die. "I – I'm not crazy about talking in public, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a good thing that I can't go, because then no one's going to expect me to get up there and – I don't know, give the damned Gettysburg Address."

"Toby, no one's going to care how you deliver a speech. And, furthermore, what do you call all those briefings you gave once C.J. took over as Chief of Staff?"

"You knew about those? I didn't think you paid one bit of attention to us once you escaped to Disneyland."

"Toby!"

"No, Sam, you left us. Be it for whatever reason, you left us. You had the chance to come back and you balked. 'Sam is staying in California,' they told me. I said, 'No, there's no way he wouldn't come back and work here – this is the place he wants to be, this is where he's going to get stuff done—'"

"Toby—"

"But you didn't come back and help us out. You stayed out in California to be a district attorney. Things changed a lot since you left. Within the first year we had our share of bedrock-shaking catastrophes, one of which was the President temporarily stepping down. Then, we had the whole U.S. government shut down. Why? Yeah, it was because Josh screwed up, but some part of me knows that had you been here, it wouldn't have happened. You would have smacked some reason into him. And that's just one, one of the instances where we could have used you, Sam. Just one."

Sam had had enough. "Why the hell is this coming out now, Toby? Aren't these fights a little old?"

"Better now than never."

"It's called holding a grudge."

"We were abandoned. C.J., the President, Charlie, and me. You all left. Everyone."

"What, do you hold some sort of victims meeting every Tuesday?" By this time Sam was on his feet. Things had gotten absolutely ridiculous.

Toby didn't respond to Sam's sarcastic accusation. Instead, he sat down on the sofa and began to read from his sheet – his speech.

"'Way back in the first campaign, the Governor Bartlet was giving a speech at a rotary club. No one from the staff would remember this event, as this was before their time. I thought it was the beginning of the end of my time. I spent the whole day getting drunk.

'Fired. I was about to get fired again. But then, Leo turned the tables. Instead, he fired everyone but me. It wasn't about generosity, or otherwise these guys would have shown up somewhere down the line in a small job; no, Leo decided instead to go out and get a staff that was worthy of Jed Bartlet.

'He chose me, among others. I didn't have an impressive track record back then – still don't. But Leo stuck with me and got Josh, who got Sam, and I went out there and got C.J.

'So, I guess I was wrong with what I just said before. Leo did have generosity. He just gave it to those who deserved it. And that's what made him different, 'cause he wasn't a hard ass, but he wasn't going to give compensation to any sorry person who dragged himself in from the cold.'" Toby stopped reading, paused, and looked up at Sam. "I just can't get this section right. It doesn't say what I want it to. It sounds like crap. Like I'm not a professional writer."

"You're not. You're a professional mole."

Toby laughed. "Yeah. That about fits."

Sam took a seat next to Toby. "What do the other sections have?"

"'The accomplishments of the man whom we honor today are countless. They are listed, tried and true, and will be spoken about by many other people. I instead have decided to focus on the other aspects of Leo McGarry of which I knew. The fact that he was a man utterly devoted to his country is a fact which will be displayed along side his name in the historical books that follow him and his accomplishments. What they won't talk about is what he said in private, when the doors were closed, in the confidence of others. The wisdom the man held – be it from where to order the best sliced deli meat, or his stance on defense plans – cannot be passed on through any medium other than recollections such as mine.

'If there is one moment that I want to share more than any other, it is Leo McGarry's view on parenthood. By now, I am sure most of you know about my two kids. I don't usually talk about them often, since I'm afraid people become bored of parents going on and on about how amazing their children are – because mine are amazing, too.

'But, before they were born, I had a fear. Maybe it was irrational, but it was my fear nevertheless. I was afraid that my children were going to hate me. Be ashamed that I was their father, not – love me. Perhaps I've gone and shamed them now, but, before that, before their birth, I spoke with Leo about that.

'He told me how afraid he was with Mallory, and that every father was afraid that their children were going to hate them. We also talked about how Andrea and I could pick a day for our babies to be born, and how Mallory was almost born on the Long Island Expressway. The humor and reassurance that Leo brought to the daunting situation of bringing children into the world was, just so, par for the course with this man.

'To say that Leo didn't have his faults would be a lie. To say that Leo would love the fact that we were ignoring his faults would too be a lie. However, today we're celebrating Leo's life. We've mourned in the past few days, and it's a time for celebration. Everyone has stories about Leo, and I, though my absence is dually noted, wish for everyone to share the memories of Leo, whether they be fond or not. But, judging the man on his character alone, I find it doubtful to find a tale of ill will about this man.'"

"It's good."

"Not as good as I used to be."

"It's good, Toby."

"Yeah, well, I still have time to correct it."

"And you're going to?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll help."

And it was like old times again.