Sam shifted in the wicker chair, settling himself more comfortably before propping up his feet on the matching ottoman. He took a sip of coffee and frowned at the sky. Grey and overcast, it showed no sign of brightening despite the assurances of the weatherman.

A gentle hand touched his hair, and he twisted to look up at his mother. "Morning, Mom."

"How long have you been out here?" Kate asked. "Your hair is soaked."

"A little while," Sam hedged, having seen dawn from this chair. "I'm waiting to see if it clears off."

"You can do that from inside. Have you had anything more than that for breakfast?" She nodded toward his coffee mug.

He glanced down at it. "This is enough."

"No, it's not, and you know it, young man! Now, what do you want for breakfast?"

"Mom, I'm really not —"

"Good, french toast it is."

Sam waited until she had gone back into the house before he sighed. Did every mother in the world feel it necessary to force-feed their offspring, or was it only his? Since Sunday, he had consumed three meals a day with assorted snacks pressed on him in-between. After the hit-or-miss schedule he had become accustomed to at the White House, he felt as if he barely stood up from one meal before sitting down at the next.

Taking another swallow of coffee, he stared out at the mist-covered Pacific. Later, perhaps, he would go to the beach. He had not gone for a run since arriving home, preferring to take advantage of the early spring weather by sailing each day. After spending the last three hours ruminating on his father's conversation with the President, he could use the mindless exercise running on the sand provided. He had not been home long enough to even walk along its length since before the election.

On the night of the California Primary, Josh had grabbed his arm as they left the table after dinner. "Hey, let's go down to this beach of yours."

Sam had stared at him for a minute before pointing out, "It's after midnight, Josh. There won't be anything to see."

Ignoring the protest, Josh continued pulling him toward the door. "I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky."

"You don't have a tall ship, and I doubt you could find a star to steer her by."

Josh's grin was brilliant. "That's why I'm taking you along."

Sam stopped. "Wait, you're taking me?"

"Yeah, you're my laughing fellow-rover." Josh tugged him forward.

"Can I just say that, without me, you won't find the beach, let alone the ocean?"

"C'mon, Sam!" Josh cajoled. "I want to see the Pacific!"

"Okay, give me a second."

As they reached the library, Sam pulled free. Without bothering to turn on the light, he crossed to his father's desk and found the humidor. Opening it, he took out a handful of cigars and stuffed them in his shirt pocket as he rejoined Josh in the hallway.

Using only the light of the crescent moon, they crossed the lawn and started down the hill. Before they had gone halfway, they realized that dress shoes were not best suited to negotiating the steep trail. Neither of them fell, but they slid and stumbled, holding onto the tall grass along the edge of the path to slow their descent. They were breathless and laughing by the time they reached the bottom, happy they were on their feet and still riding the high of winning. Protected from the wind by an outcropping of rocks, they lit two of the cigars.

"What are those for?" Josh asked, pointing at the ones left in Sam's pocket.

"I don't know. Maybe when we get the nomination." He thought for a minute and then decided. "No, they're for Election Night. When we win," he clarified.

Josh smiled, cocking his head to the one side as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "We will, you know. You and me — we're going to work in the White House. And we'll do some great things when we get there."

"There's so much to fix: education, the environment, healthcare..."

"And that's why they'll vote for us in November!" Josh reminded him, excited by the challenges they faced. "All over the United States, people are listening to our message and believing in it!"

Still philosophizing, Josh strode toward the water, his hands gesturing even as his voice was drowned out by the crash of waves. Who was it that had shouted at the sea? Demosthenes. Sam smiled, amused he had come up with answer so readily. He leaned against the rocks and savored his cigar, its flavor enhanced by the distinctive scent of the Pacific, the excitement of winning, and the utter joy of being home. Josh was right; they had the momentum, and everything was falling into place. The strategy they had come up with in Manchester had worked: win Illinois and they would run the table. Tonight's primary wins had proven them right. More importantly, the voters had said in no uncertain terms that they was ready for change, ready for something new, and Josiah Bartlet was the man they wanted leading them forward.

Josh walked toward him, his shirt glowing white in the moonlight. Sam fell into step beside him, guiding him toward the road. It would take longer, but it was easier than trying to climb back up the path. They walked in comfortable silence, blowing clouds of cigar smoke into the air.

"I can't wrap my mind around it, Josh. This is going to happen."

Josh grinned, grabbing hold of Sam's shoulder. "And it's because of us — you, me, CJ, Toby, Leo. Because we believed, even when the Governor didn't."

"This is the best thing I've ever done, the best thing I can ever hope to do."

Josh's grip tightened. "And the ride is just starting."

They stopped at the end of the driveway, both of them grinning. They had come a long way from that rainy day in Manhattan.

"Josh, we're ready to go," CJ called as she crossed the driveway to their rental.

"Coming," Josh called, his eyes meeting Sam's in the reflected light from the street. "All the way to the White House," he said, his words a promise and a bond between them. He offered his hand, and when Sam took it, he pulled him into a rough hug.

"Just like we planned."

They broke apart, laughing quietly as they walked up the drive. Toby leaned against the car by CJ's open door, watching them. Picking up the overnight bag at his feet, he tossed it to Sam.

"Thanks, I would've forgotten it."

"I think your parents are ready to call it a night," Toby said.

Josh slapped Sam on the back. "I'm going to run in and say thank-you."

"Leo decided to let us sleep in tomorrow," CJ told him. "He's pushing the schedule back so we're not leaving the hotel until 11:00."

Sam yawned. "Sleep sounds incredible right now."

Toby moved around the car to the driver's side. "Spend some time with your parents, Sam. God knows why, but they seem to miss you."

CJ put her hand on Sam's arm. "Don't worry. We won't leave without you."

"Yes, we will!" Toby contradicted her.

Sam laughed. "I'll be there on time," he assured them, closing CJ's door as he heard Josh's footsteps on the path.

Josh opened the rear passenger door. "See you in the morning."

"You bet."

Sam had watched until the car was out of sight before turning toward the house. It had been a day he would never forget, made better by the people around him. The friendships he had forged on the campaign trail only served to emphasize how right a choice he had made with his life.

"Sweetheart, breakfast is ready," Kate said from the doorway. "I lit the fire in the family room so come in and get warm."

Sam pushed himself to his feet, stretching out the stiffness in his back. The agitation that had awoken him before dawn had left him, the need to run was gone. The memory of that night brought back how proud he had been being part of Bartlet for America. How excited he had been by what they were doing. Nothing would ever tarnish that.

He glanced up. The sky had not lightened, in fact rain now looked like a distinct possibility. As if to confirm it, a few drops splashed on the flagstones at his feet. Not a bad day to stay inside and catch up with his mom, maybe take her to lunch. As he walked to the door, the smells of cinnamon, bacon and coffee drifted out to him. He had not been hungry a minute before, but now he was famished. Toeing off his sneakers, he padded to the family room where the small table was set for two.

Dropping into a chair, he leaned over the corner of the table and kissed his mother's cheek. "Thank you."

Kate pointed to his overfilled plate. "Eat your breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am!" And picking up his fork, Sam attacked the food with more appetite than he had had in what seemed like months.