Cutting through Communications on his way back from a meeting in the Roosevelt Room, Josh stopped to watch the activity inside Toby's office. Briefing memos, easily identifiable in their blue covers, and file folders in assorted colors covered the coffee table and most of the couch. Bonnie knelt on the floor, sorting through a pile of bound speeches. Cathy checked each item against a list, occasionally changing its place in what appeared to be some kind of order. Toby worked at his desk, a stack of folders at his elbow.

Margaret appeared beside him. "Toby, here are the security logs. Where do you want them?"

"Give them to Ginger. She's waiting for them."

Margaret walked to Ginger's desk and handed her the logs. She took a step towards her office then turned back. "Look, I'm not really busy this afternoon. Can I help organize this?" she asked.

Bonnie looked up, clearly relieved. "Another set of hands would be great. Toby needs this finished by 5:00."

"What's going on?" Josh asked, edging around Cathy and almost knocking over the stack Bonnie had assembled. "Sorry!"

Toby frowned at him. "We're trying to figure out what Sam worked on for the last four months."

"It can't be all that difficult," Josh said and then realized everyone in the room was glaring at him. "Right? I mean you keep good records and all."

Toby waved his hand at Cathy. "Why don't you bring him up to speed?"

"These —" she said, pointing at two tall stacks on the coffee table, "— are his correspondence and the research for the speeches he wrote." She pointed to a third stack. "That's the research he didn't use or that he sent along to one of the other speechwriters."

Josh blinked. He knew Sam lived for research, but, until this moment, Josh had had no idea how much he actually did.

"The briefing memos there —" Cathy continued, gesturing to a foot-high stack on the far end of the couch, "— are ones he was assigned, along with the corresponding position papers or opposition prep."

"Did you find the summaries?" Toby asked. "'Cause I'm not sure I have copies of all of them."

Bonnie turned from her spot on the floor. "Everything's there. I finished that before lunch."

Josh looked at the pile on one of Toby's guest chairs. Briefing memos, obviously. "And those?"

Toby sighed. "Those are memos he wasn't assigned."

"And?" Josh himself had at least one filing cabinet full of memos on a range of topics that would never gain enough importance to warrant spending any time on them. He picked up the file on top and flipped to the cover sheet. The title was not even vaguely familiar. Obviously, this had not been high on his priority list. Leaning against the windowsill, Josh idly flipped through the pages. Neat handwritten notes filled the margins. Josh looked from the memo to Toby and back. He would have recognized the handwriting anywhere — Sam's.

Josh closed the cover and returned the memo to the pile. "My god, he read all of these?"

"And wrote some damn good position papers for some of them," Toby said, leaning back in his chair. He gestured to the stack of folders on his desk. "I'm going through them now."

Josh was not sure if he wanted to laugh or to cry. Sam — stubborn, tenacious Sam — must have spent hours working on issues that were well outside their legislative portfolio, issues he knew would never see the light of day.

"Whoa!" Cathy cried as a pile started sliding from the couch to the floor. She managed to steady most of the files as Margaret collected the ones that had escaped. Sighing, they began putting them back in order.

"Why?" Josh asked.

"Because no one else was interested, and Sam, being Sam, couldn't stand the idea that something important might be lost."

"And was anything?"

Toby nodded to a small pile on his credenza. "There are a few I'm going to take to Leo and the President. There's one —" He leaned back and picked up two files, handing them to Josh. "— he felt strongly enough about to write both a position paper and the opposition prep. I'll tell you, Sam arguing against himself is an incredible thing to read."

"Where the hell did he find the time?" Josh mused, running his hand through his hair as he scanned the pages.

Margaret looked up. "I took a quick look at the sign-in sheets. In the past two months, Sam stayed late — really, really late — almost every night."

"Why didn't somebody notice?" As he spoke, Josh saw Cathy flick a glance at Bonnie who shook her head slightly. "What?" he demanded.

Cathy frowned and returned her attention to her list. "Nothing."

Exasperated, Josh looked at Toby for help. And then the penny dropped. "You think I should've noticed," he said softly.

Toby frowned and rubbed his forehead. "Both of us should've noticed. Six months ago, we would have."

"But everybody blames me for this, don't they?"

The look Cathy sent him gave him her answer, even as Toby shook his head. "I blame myself. He worked for me, and I didn't care enough to find out what he was doing, how he was doing." As his voice started to rise, Bonnie spoke quietly to the other two assistants and they left the office, closing the door behind them. "I did nothing except tear apart his writing for the last two months. His writing! Do you know what that means to someone like Sam? Stabbing him repeatedly would have been kinder." He rubbed his eyes with his palms. "I sat in on his meetings —"

"That was Leo's idea!" Josh reminded him. "He thought Sam was still a little green —"

"I should've refused to do it! I should've told Leo that I had every confidence in Sam and his abilities." Toby slammed his hands down on the arms of his chair. "Even Day One, he wasn't some wet-behind-the ears kid. Why was it suddenly a problem? Sam's one of the most intelligent people in this building! My god, Josh, Mendoza wouldn't have been confirmed without him."

"There's every chance you and Mendoza would've murdered each other if Sam hadn't been there," Josh agreed.

"You know what Crossfield told me? Twenty years in the Senate, and he'd never seen any nominee better prepared. That was Sam. Sam and all his damn research."

Josh dropped into the guest chair that was not piled high with paper, slouching forward and clasping his hands loosely between his knees. "Why didn't we see what was happening? Why didn't we stop it?"

"Because we didn't give a damn."

"I'd give anything to —"

"Turn back the clock? We have to fix this, not wish it didn't happen."

"I, for one, am fully committed to doing both."

The door opened, and CJ poked her head in. "Josh, are we still meeting?"

He glanced at his watch. "Sorry, I didn't realize it was so late. Let me grab a folder from my office, okay?"

"My office in ten minutes?" She looked around Toby's office. "You cleaning?"

"No, we're recreating the life and times of Sam Seaborn."

CJ whistled softly. "Wow. You're taking all of this to your meeting with Leo and the President?"

Toby looked around. "Now that you mention it... Bonnie!"

Bonnie appeared in the doorway behind CJ, her eyebrows raised in question.

"Can you find some of those cart things?"

"Sure, how many do we need?"

Josh cut in before Toby had a chance to answer. "Two — make it two, Bonnie."

"Only two?"

Toby looked at the piles and stacks, and a slow smile started. "He's right. Two will definitely make a statement."

"So will a couple of assistants carrying in the rest of it." Josh grinned, caught up in the mental image.

"You guys do remember that Leo and the President want Sam back as much as we do, right?" CJ asked.

Josh nodded. "Sure, but it's just, well, shocking to see tangible proof of what he was doing. They need to see it, too."

Shaking her head, CJ disappeared down the hall. Josh stood up. "What time's your meeting? Five?"

Toby's eyes were on the file lying open on his desk, his mind already returning to the task at hand. "Yeah."

"I may just come watch."

Josh picked his way across the office, careful not to disturb anything. Toby had returned to his reading, no longer paying any attention to him. In the bullpen, Ginger glared at her computer screen, one finger moving down the page of a security log as she typed numbers into a spreadsheet. Margaret sat on the edge of Cathy's desk, the two of them talking quietly. Josh walked over to them. Cathy met his gaze, her eyes dark and accusing. Josh heard Sam's voice, as he did so often these days. I told you, she's like my younger sister, but she frightens me.

"Look, Cathy, I'm sor—"

"You promised me you'd get him back, Josh. I'm holding you to that."

"We're working on it, you know we are!" he protested.

She picked up her list, ready to return to Toby's office. "I know, but if Sam doesn't come back, I'm going to blame you."

He nodded, watching her march away followed by Margaret. "So will I."