I should have taken her to the hotel hours ago, Sam thinks as he carries Cerulean out to the car. It's unreasonably late, if he's honest, but they needed him for the speech and Cerulean needed him in general. Sam had to stay and Cerulean had to stay with him.

As he approaches his rental car, another car drives up and parks near his. Connie is in the driver's seat. Thank God. Connie is mostly reasonable.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey," Sam replies.

"What are you doing?" Connie asks.

"Heading back to the hotel. I might also be talking to myself as I go." Sam shifts Cerulean slightly and attempts to wrangle the key out of his pocket with one hand. He's not succeeding. Connie gets out of her car.

"Mind if I help?"

"Feel free," Sam says, grateful. He manages to fish out the key and hands it to her. Connie unlocks the rear door and opens it for him. Sam carefully maneuvers Cerulean, still asleep, into her car seat.

"I thought the speech was locked. Why are you still here?" Connie says.

"It's not locked until the President says it's locked," Sam says, finishing with Cerulean's seatbelt. He stands up again and looks at Connie. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Connie replies. "If you had to stay, why didn't you send her on with C.J. or somebody?" She points to Cerulean. Sam shakes his head.

"The nightmares," he says. "I'm the only one who can calm her down after. C.J., Josh, Toby, they all tried. It's just me and-" Sam stops as he remembers that by the time they return to D.C., Cerulean will be living with him and not Zach anymore. "It's just me who can calm her down." Connie nods. "Anyway, what are you doing out this late?"

"I was trying to find a Starbucks," Connie says. "A guy in a gas station said, 'round here, people don't pay four bucks for a cup of coffee.'" Sam smiles slightly.

"New Hampshire. Live free or cheap."

"Doug means well, you know. And he's smart," Connie says after a pause. Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Connie, it seems to me your job is to wait until Doug leaves the room and then say, 'what Doug really meant was…'" Sam says. "How much they pay you for that?" Connie gives him a cold look.

"Sometimes it's my job to say it when he's in the room," she says. Sam nods.

"Yeah."

"We're making a mistake not including an apology."

"Is this what you mean or what Doug means?" Sam asks.

"Both," Connie replies evenly.

"It's not going to happen," Sam says in the same tone.

"Why not?"

"Because Jed Bartlet is Jed Bartlet and that's the way it goes." Sam had said in the beginning that there should be an apology. He'd said it to Toby right after the original press conference, that awful, harried night he'd spent worried about Cerulean. In all the commotion, his point had been lost, even by Sam himself, but here it is to bite them in the ass in the form of Doug and Connie and Bruno.

"Well, I think that's what you're saying, and it makes sense, but you know what?" Connie says.

"What?" Sam replies.

"I think you want him to apologize," Connie answers. "And not just for political reasons." Well, didn't that just hit the nail on the head. Sam shakes his head again.

"I haven't thought about it much." He's not about to admit it. Not in front of one of Bruno's people.

"Sam-"

"There's been a lot going on and I really haven't thought about it much." That much is true; there had been so much going on with Cerulean and Sam didn't have much time to devote to it. But it remains, in the back of his mind, especially when he sees the President with Cerulean.

"You were with him when he got elected. You got him elected. You got him elected," Connie persists. "You worked for Bartlet 18 hours a day. You never felt-"

"Connie, please. It's President Bartlet," Sam interrupts. It's a stupid argument, but it shuts her up before she can say anything else he's already thought a thousand times. "Okay?" Connie nods.

"Yeah."

"I should get back to the hotel." Sam turns to go to the driver's seat of the rental car.

"What about her mom?" Connie asks suddenly. Sam pauses.

"What?" He turns back to her. Connie points to Cerulean again.

"Her mom. Her mom's not able to calm her down?"

"I wouldn't think so. She doesn't seem to give a rat's ass whether or not Cerulean's okay, so…" He shrugs. Connie stares at him, shocked. Sam sighs. "Cerulean's mother hasn't been in the picture for years. Sorry, with everything that's been going with Cerulean, I get angry."

"And you're not at all angry that President Bartlet lied to you and because of that you're taking care of your five-year-old in a hotel while you scramble to fix his mistake?" Connie says, recovered. Sam has no answer to that; he just looks down at Cerulean. "That's what I thought. Good night, Sam." Connie turns to go toward the house.

"Cerulean is six, actually," Sam says finally. Connie turns back to him. "She'd want you to know that. She's very happy to be six." Connie smiles softly.

"My niece is the same," she says. "Go on, Sam, put her in bed. Big day tomorrow