But first and foremost, Sam has the quote. Stuck in his head like a splinter, working its way deeper. If he tries to prod it, it's numb and elusive. Only when he allows his mind to lightly brush over it does it pinch at his consciousness. "Nurture your mind with great thoughts."

Wandering into Toby's office, distraction playing across his features, Sam absently began fingering the objects on a shelf.

"What? What do you need Sam?"

"Mmmm, nothing." Not very convincing.

It's been a weird week, and Toby has given up trying to anticipate where these bizarre dream inspired flights of fancy will take Sam. The first day he was impatient and annoyed by the distraction. The last two, he's become mildly intrigued. After his talk with Josh, Toby realized there may be some significant insight into Sam to be had here, but damned if he could figure any of it out, and damned if he really cared.

"Is it still the cats?" Toby wanted to know in spite of himself.

Sam swung around to face him, tugging at his tie, working his fingers into the knot. "No. I've left the cats behind me. I've moved on from the cats. The cats are so over - where have you been? Turns out the mystery was no mystery. The cats were Monday, man."

"I get it!" Toby bleated. This was an unfortunate side effect of having shown any interest at all in Sam's obsessions. He actually thought Toby cared. "So... Oh. Please tell me you're not back on the pigeons again. You made me talk to that woman at the health department for half an hour, Sam, and I swear to you, she doesn't know where all the dead pigeons are either. They're not, you know, KEEPING THE INFORMATION FROM YOU. They really don't know."

Sam was waving a hand through the air, dismissing the matter with a creased brow. "No, no, it's not the pigeons. Although..."

"Don't."

A quick shrug of the shoulders. "I've got something stuck in my ear."

"Do you need to... see a doctor...?" Maybe this wasn't part of the pattern, maybe Sam had just poked something sharp into his ear.

"Toby! It's a quote. I think. I'm not sure. I woke up and it was there." Sam's head dropped down a little, a lock of hair falling across his forehead.

Toby almost looked disappointed. So it *was* a thing. But as Sam's went, this seemed like a pretty simple one.

"What is it?"

"Nurture your mind with great thoughts."

This caused Toby to sit back and take a good look at his deputy. "Sam." Trapped between relief that this was going to be so easily dispensed with, and a nagging dread that it was only the beginning of something else. "Disraeli. Who's your daddy?"

"Ah ha!" The glee and relief in equal parts shone through Sam's eyes, and Toby was instantly on his feet, putting his chair between them. He was certain Sam was going to come over and kiss him.

"Saaaam," Toby cautioned.

Yes, Sam would have kissed him. So it assured Toby greatly when Sam turned and went dancing out of his office, and kissed Bonnie instead. That was way too easy.

Cautiously sitting back at his desk, Toby kept one eye on his door for the next half hour, fully anticipating the reappearance of his deranged co-worker. So it was no surprise when Sam did indeed come slinking back in and sat dejectedly in a chair.

"Why the hell is Disraeli stuck in my head?"

Maybe, Toby mused, if I just sent him after one of my balls... out in traffic... "You love to quote Disraeli, Sam. Why are you questioning him being stuck in your head?" Sam didn't look convinced.

"Yeah." He wasn't convinced. "It's just... I can't fit it into the dream. And you know, it's troubling me." Well, of course it was.

"What I'm saying is, has it occurred to you that this wasn't from a dream?" Toby offered. "Maybe this is just a *regular* thing, like a thing that happens to everyone once in awhile." Toby was saying the words with all the conviction he could muster, but as they streamed out of his mouth, he already knew it was bullshit. This was definitely another thing. "Like when I left the tv on after Inside Washington was over and they played that infomercial for the `sounds of the forties' cd. I came in humming songs I had never even heard before." That was logical, and rational, and Sam wasn't buying it for a second.

"Noooo, I don't think that's what it is."

But wait. "But, wait. Two weeks ago you were writing the remarks for the Educator's lunch. You used Disraeli in there! Ah ha!" Toby was so disgusted with himself for getting this involved, he was thinking of going down to the locker room and taking a shower.

"That was Plato. 'The beginning is the most important part of the work'." So Sam was going to be stubborn about this. Now that Josh was due back in town, Toby was really going to have to talk to him again.

Taking a moment to make the most important decision of his life, Toby considered the options. He could sit here and wrestle through this ridiculous dilemma with Sam, probing his subconscious, probably delving into areas of his mind that would either leave Toby with a raging headache, or possibly even dead. Or he could send Sam on his way to figure it all out on his own... which would only mean he'd still have to go through all this later in the day. Oh, what the hell.

"But you were *considering* using some Disraeli. The `Am I not their leader?' line, you know, the one the President loves."

Evidently this was a colossal waste of time, Sam didn't even seem to be listening. He was leaning forward in his chair, running his thumb up and down a stack of briefing books six inches high, seemingly mesmerized by the staccato sound of the pages snapping. " `Learn to unlearn.' That was in April, for the thing on tolerance," he mumbled.

Damn, he was still with him, so now Toby was going to have to follow through. "Okay," he began. "So it was already there, this isn't a thing, we can both go back to work."

"Umm... Toby," Sam sat back now and leveled his cool gaze on Toby. "I think there's more."

Holy mackerel, Sam, what more could there be?! At least the conundrum about where all the dead pigeons were had held Toby's attention for a few hours. Enough - to his utter and complete humiliation - that he actually called back the woman at DC Public Works when she'd hung up on Sam. It hadn't ended all that satisfactorily, either, since they still had no idea why old or injured pigeons weren't littering the public spaces of Washington.

But clearly, Sam had been able to move on.

"What?" Toby almost sounded like really wanted to know.

"There's still the dream." Sam sounded apologetic. He knew how Toby felt about hearing the dreams. And one day he was going to ask him why the hell he sat here and listened to them while Josh had been away. It was so un-Tobyish, Sam couldn't help wanting to see how far he could go. See, there; even though Toby's eyes were rolling around in his head, he wasn't saying anything to deter Sam. Which Sam took as a sign. "There was this, um, woman at Princeton - "

"No!" A slight misjudgment? "No you don't Freud-boy! That's why you have a best friend. Don't for a moment think that I'm gonna sit here and listen to your - "

"Toby, relax! It wasn't like that. The dream, I mean. I take great pains in these times of, um, hyper-stimulated subconsciousness to, you know, avoid all thoughts or images of a sexual nature - "

Toby was wailing now, like a wounded animal. "Enough, enough! Already you've said too much! Seriously, Sam, how much longer? It's been four nights. Surely you've regulated your sleep pattern by now. Stop the drugs, okay?" Toby was inexplicably tempted to reach across his desk and actually take Sam's hand for emphasis. "For my sake, for your sake, for god's sake, don't take the sleeping pills!"

A loud and undeniably distinctive snort sounded from the doorway. "Toby, Toby, Toby...." Josh stepped into the office shaking his head. "It doesn't sound to me like you have Sam's best interests at heart here." He easily lowered himself into the vacant visitor chair by Sam's side and reached out to snatch a baseball from the desk.

"Hey! How was the last meeting?" inquired Sam brightly, his earlier reflective mood dispelled by the fresh energy Josh brought into the room.

Josh flashed Sam a conspiratorial grin, then zeroed back in on Toby's still stricken expression. "Good, good, we got everything we wanted and I didn't even break a sweat. But I'd much rather hear what you two have been up to."

An audible groan escaped the furry region of Toby's face. "Josh, help me out here. You've been through this before. How you survived it, I'll never know, but please. Tell him he doesn't have to keep taking the Ambien." Toby was beseeching Josh, and he was humiliated to realize Josh was eating it up.

Turning his eyes on Sam, Josh sat back a little to take him in. "How are you sleeping?" As if he didn't already know. But this was for Toby, so damned if Josh wasn't going to have some fun.

Sam's smile was broad, his eyes crinkled. "Very well, thank you. Five hours straight, four nights in a row." Proud of himself, holding up first five, then four fingers.

His arm reaching out to pat Sam on the back, Josh spoke to him enthusiastically. "Good job!"

"Oh for crying out loud..." Toby muttered. Sam shot him a pout. "Yes, I'm glad you're getting some sleep Sam, of course I am. But I gotta wonder at some point. Which is worse, you stumbling in here sleep deprived for a couple weeks, or this, this - " swatting the air like a swarm of gnats had enveloped him. " - insanity you're shrouded in when you take those pills?"

Josh's countenance instantly hardened, and he replaced the ball he'd been rolling in his hands. Speaking firmly and directly, he leaned towards Toby. "Don't for one instant underestimate the severity of this, Toby." His eyes were challenging Toby to maintain contact.

"Josh..."

"No, Sam. We treat it lightly, we make jokes. And I think that's led *some* people to misunderstand how serious this can be." Josh sat back in his chair again, but his eyes remained latched to Toby's sober face. "He takes the prescription for five or six nights, he gets a touch of amnesia in the first 30 minutes, and he falls asleep like that." Josh snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Has some unimaginably vivid dreams, five hours later he wakes up from a very deep, satisfying sleep, and is rarin' to go. Within a week he's back on a natural sleep cycle, and *you* don't have to hear about it for another eighteen months. What problem could you possibly have with that?"

"Josh." Sam was on his feet, hauling Josh to his. "This is all very sweet, this overprotective thing. But I told you. Toby has been - " Sam turned the full intensity of his gaze on Toby, as still as a Buddha behind his desk. "You've been amazing. You've been great." Turning back to Josh, pushing him towards the door. "I told you, we talked about it while you were gone, he understands." One last glance at Toby, Sam mouthed the word "sorry."

Watching them leave his office, Toby felt a mixture of relief that Josh was back, and clearly prepared to reassert his rightful place as Sam's confidant, and the nagging disappointment that he might not ever find out what Disraeli had been doing in Sam's dream.

*****

"I don't appreciate that, Josh. You have no idea how much I've tortured him this week." Sam's hands were jammed in his pockets as he and Josh ambled towards the mess hall. Josh had been away four days, accompanying the President and CJ on a blitz through six western states looking at power utilities, and Sam was incredibly relieved he was back.

Josh had been on Air Force One for four days with the President, and was incredibly relieved to *be* back. "Oh, I know. Trust me, after the cat stuff, he was ready to blow. But you got his attention with the sperm." Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Josh quickly held up a commanding hand. "I *really* don't want to talk about it again. Besides, whatever happened to you purging all sexual imagery before going to bed?"

Color rising to his cheeks, Sam glanced apprehensively at Josh. "Do you have any idea how much sexual imagery there is around us?"

"Us?" Josh's eyes nervously darted around the empty hallway.

"No, not *us,* I'm talking about around us," Sam exclaimed, dragging his hands from his pockets for emphasis. "It's unavoidable. And, that's coming from someone who's been trying to avoid it."

"Ya know..." Josh had been pretty sure he didn't want to go here again, but to his way of thinking he considered it a practical benefit of Ambien induced dreams. "I just don't know why you can't relax and enjoy this little side effect. Work it to your advantage some. If these dreams are as explosively vivid as you say - "

"I'm going to ignore your really provocative, and frankly tasteless choice of words there..." Sam held open the door to the mess for Josh, shaking his head mildly.

"Enjoy it, man! Give in and allow yourself to, you know..." wiggling his eyebrows, Josh swaggered through.

Sam's voice was low and gravelly now that they were in the populated public area. "Josh. Abby Bartlet. Do I have to remind you?" he hissed, grabbing a container of yogurt and heading for the fresh fruit.

Clearly, from the stricken look on his face, Josh had forgotten about that. Forgotten that, although Sam could sometimes influence his drug saturated subconscious apparitions by what he watched or thought of right before falling asleep, he really had no control over them whatsoever. Which had led to the unfortunate appearance of Abigail Bartlet in a particularly sweaty dream right after they had come to the White House. Leading Sam to declare the entire subject of sex one hundred percent off limits when he was so susceptible to the heightened intensity he experienced while taking the pills.

And yet, there were the sperm...

Accepting a bowl of steaming minestrone from the food service worker, Josh contemplated bringing up the subject they had briefly covered in a static riddled phone call on Tuesday, the day following Night Two of Sam's attempt to reconstruct his shattered sleep cycle. Though truth be told, he'd heard from CJ that Toby had handled it all quite deftly, and Josh loathed stepping on his toes. But then what were friends for...?

"So, about the sperm."

Sam's head snapped up from examining the nectarine in his hand and he took two quick steps to his left, grabbing a bottle of water. "He's buying," he informed the cashier and moved away to find as secluded a table as possible.

By the time Josh joined him, the color had left Sam's cheeks, and he had visually swept the area quite thoroughly.

"So, about the sperm." Josh, folding himself into a chair.

"That wasn't about sex. And I gotta tell you, Josh, I just know this is going to come back and haunt me tonight." Sam sounded as grumpy as he looked.

Well, now Josh really wanted to know. "How is sperm not about sex?"

"When it's about the *sperm!*" Sam snapped. Risking a quick glance at Josh's startled and somewhat baffled expression he softened a little. "It was more... warfare. Picture a battle. An epic battle. Like Braveheart or something."

In all these years, Sam could still delight Josh in ways he never imagined. "You're sperm were - "

"Well, I don't know that they were mine. I prefer to think of them as anonymous. And until you just said that," Sam sighed deeply, "I had no trouble doing so."

Okay. "You said something about... a function of evolution. I'm not sure I really got the point on the phone. And then the pigeons happened." Josh slurped at his soup and waited for Sam to pick up the thread.

Setting aside his half finished yogurt that was, frankly, completely unappetizing at this point, Sam sat back in his chair. "Some drive towards the egg, the others... they seek out other men's sperm, to, um, kill or, uh, block them. And it's believed that the proportions of each kind depends on the man's belief at the time of ejaculation about whether his are the only sperm in there. They think. They're pretty sure."

Oh, this was so much better in person. "Who are "they," Sam?" So. Much. Better.

"Uh, the experts. I imagine. Scientists."

"Uh huh. And "they" know what the sperm's motivations are?"

"Yes, they believe they do."

And you believed them? Josh was dying to add. There were just too many possibilities colliding inside his brain right now.

"I know what you're going to - " Sam was cut off when Bonnie and Ginger walked past, Ginger patting Josh affectionately on the shoulder.

"Good to have you back, Josh."

"Good to be back." It's nice to be wanted.

"No, she means," Bonnie aimed a knowing look in Sam's direction. "It's *really* *really* good to have you back."

Josh snickered as the women moved away towards the exit. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "You did *not* ask them to help you with your `research,' Sam. That would certainly fall under the Inappropriate Office Behavior chapter, don't you think?" Josh was sincerely alarmed at the idea.

"Ginger was very helpful with the cats," Sam offered. "The history of the tabby pattern is convoluted. The African Wild - "

"Sam." Josh could easily see how Toby had become impatient with that subject, especially when something more interesting was right around the corner.

"Right. They're called blocker sperm. It's all on the internet. I didn't need any help. I ordered a book from the Princeton Press, I'll loan it to you when it comes."

Josh choked down his cracker at Sam's choice of wording. "Um, that's okay, Sam. I'm kinda enjoying you telling me about it yourself." That blush again.

Sam looked towards the entrance to the Mess and was surprised to see Toby shuffling in. He hadn't seen them yet, Sam realized, and he raised his hand to get Toby's attention. But the moment they established eye contact, Toby darted back through the doorway, jostling a man behind him.

"That was weird..." Sam took a long pull on his bottle of water.

The Mess was filling up with people, and Josh decided it would be prudent to continue whatever they had left of the sperm discussion in a more private atmosphere. Besides. Toby was obviously expecting Josh to pick up the pieces of the latest manifestation of Sam's warped subconscious, and he still didn't know anything about it.

"I can see how it would take something like the pigeons to knock that off the page, Sam. But what happened last night?"

"Oh." Sam considered the nectarine in front of him for a moment before deciding to save it for later. "I think I might have... I woke up with what I know now is a quote from Disraeli stuck in my head."

"That sounds pretty tame for you," Josh smirked.

Sam made a face back, was about to stick out his tongue, in fact, when he came to his senses. "Yeah. That's why it's bugging me. I can't figure out where it fits in."

Josh exhaled extravagantly and relaxed further back in his seat. "What was the dream?"

Sam's expression became distant for a moment. Re-focusing on Josh, he took a deep breath. "There was this woman, when I was at Princeton. Ruby. She was beautiful and smart. And, forceful, I guess. Anyway, I used to spend a lot of time thinking about her. `Cause she had the most amazing shoes..."

Josh was sitting straight up in his chair now. "You're kidding me!" he practically yelped. "You fantasized about her shoes?! You sick, sick bastard. How come I never knew this about you?"

"I didn't fantasize about her shoes!" That *was* a yelp, one that drew a few stares from the closest tables. "Okay, lets go." In light of this latest humiliation, Sam felt it necessary to assert himself a little. He sprang to his feet and motioned Josh to follow.

Once out in the hallway again, Sam took a not too gentle hold of Josh's elbow, guiding him up the stairs that would take them back to the ground floor before he resumed speaking. "I always wondered why a professor of Women's Studies would wear such complicated and, seriously, masochistic shoes. They weren't sexy. They were frightening." And Sam was truly looking a little spooked just talking about it.

"So you never had a thing for her?" Not waiting for an answer, Josh stopped on the stairs. "Wait. You took a Women's Studies course at Princeton?" The grin on Josh's face widened until Sam was quite sure his dimples were going to swallow the entire White House.

"Can we move back to the subject?" Sam scolded. Ascending the steps again. "In the dream, I was walking across the Princeton campus - "

In spite of the fact that every molecule in his considerably intelligent brain was screaming at him to - for once in his life - keep his damn mouth shut, Josh broke in. "Were you naked?"

To Josh's utter shock, Sam hardly missed a beat. "Keep it to yourself. There were people everywhere. And some animals. Big, really big squirrels, I remember."

"Would these be the same squirrels from two years ago? `Cause this animal thing you have going is getting pretty interesting, Sam."

"I'm fairly confident in saying they were the same squirrels. But that's of no significance here."

"How do you know? I thought you weren't sure *what* this dream was telling you?" Josh sounded a little petulant there; he really was trying to help.

"Please stop interrupting. The squirrels played no further role in this dream. They were just part of the... landscape. So I'm walking across campus, and *everyone* is wearing these `Ruby' shoes. All colors and styles, men, women - "

"Squirrels?"

"You really think I'm that twisted, Josh?" Sam paused to consider Josh for a moment, then continued. "But they were all scary, and there was a bit of conversation and interaction along the way. Then I went into my room - which wasn't my room, it was more of a vast array of office cubicles - and I slipped on some pens that were all over the floor, and I fell down, and as I sat there I could see under the bed, and there was something big and dark and round there."

"So you climbed under the bed and looked down it."

They had reached the top of the stairs, and Sam stopped dead in his tracks to stare aghast at Josh. "How could you possibly know that?"

"The rabbit hole, Sam." Josh answered breezily, high-fiving himself in his head at having guessed right. He'd taken a few more steps before he realized Sam was still standing there, eyes wide in astonishment. "If you've told me about the rabbit hole once, you've told me a thousand times. Do you really think I don't pay attention to you? C'mon." And when Josh wiggled his fingers, Sam began moving again.

Sam walked silently for a few moments, absorbing the idea that Josh really *did* listen to him, even when he babbled about long ago childhood fears and the things that brought them back to life. The notion that there was someone out there who understood him that well, who despite the teasing and the occasional ridicule thought enough of what everyone else dismissed as incoherent ramblings, not only listened closely, but could recall it when needed gave Sam an incredible sense of security.

When he finally found his voice again, it was clouded with emotion. "I went down the rabbit hole, Josh."

It was Josh's turn to stop. "Good for you, Sam." He tried to read his friend's face, but there was too much playing across it, Josh wasn't able to pick out any one emotion. "So what was down there?"

Josh thought back to all the allusions to the rabbit hole Sam had made over their years together. How as a child he'd alternated between rapture over Lewis Carroll's imagery, and being horrified at the prospect of getting trapped in another reality which he neither understood nor belonged in. How the feeling had culminated when he was ten, and had whooping cough, and knelt racked by fever next to the tub while his parents filled the bathroom with clouds of soothing steam. Josh remembered Sam telling him about the feeling of growing larger, swelling out of his own body while simultaneously moving further and further away through a long narrowing tunnel until he was nothing but the feeling of swollen skin and spinning abandonment. And how to this day, when Sam felt himself coming down with something, he dreaded the prospect of running a fever. For Sam to voluntarily go down the rabbit hole was incredibly brave.

*****

They had arrived at Josh' office, and Sam took a seat in front of the desk. Not wanting the bulky piece of furniture to come between them, Josh perched on the edge and waited for Sam to find his voice.

"Toby," Sam whispered gravely. "Toby was down there. But it must have been Disraeli, don't you think?" He sounded almost hopeful.

"What was the quote?" Josh realized he'd never asked.

"Nurture your mind with great thoughts," Sam recited solemnly.

Considering the words for a moment, Josh sunk into the chair next to Sam. "Humph. Not what I expected," he mumbled.

Sam was taken aback by that. "What were you expecting?" he wondered aloud.

Josh didn't hesitate a second. "What do you think? The one on your refrigerator." He spoke the words so distractedly, it took a minute to realize Sam was smiling and shaking his head. "What?"

It was tiny, less then two inches square, and mottled with age. There were brown spots across it, as if it had bubbled in the heat, but it was just a piece of paper. Stuck on Sam's refrigerator wherever he had lived for the last fifteen years. His fiancée had hated it with a venomous passion, but had allowed it to stay as long as Sam kept most of it hidden beneath an oversized magnet from the corner liquor store.

"It destroys one's nerves to be amiable every day to the same human being," Josh repeated from memory. It was right there in his face every time he stood in front of Sam's fridge. "And who does that sound like?"

"Toby," the two friends uttered simultaneously.

"You weren't here. I had to go to Toby." Sam was smiling broadly, his eyes shining. "For four days I went into his office." Sam couldn't suppress a light chuckle. "And told him things I'm sure he was hoping he'd go his whole life without hearing. Oh god, Josh." They were both laughing now. "I made him listen to my dream about sperm battling it out for supremacy! He sat there while I figured out if I was insane or if this was something I'd picked up somewhere! He helped me try and find out why we aren't knee deep in dead pigeons." Sam was gasping for breath now, the sight of tears rolling down Josh's face adding to the feeling of delirium.

"H- h- he called me the first day," Josh sputtered. "He asked me quite seriously why he should care why tabby cats have a big `M' on their foreheads!" Sam convulsed with the image. "I told him this is something he *had* to do for you, otherwise it would drive you crazy, and that would drive *him* crazy." Josh gulped down some air and continued. "He said you always drove him crazy, how much worse could it get?" They both shrieked like prepubescent girls at that.

They had left the door open when they'd entered the office, and now, unbeknownst to either of them, Donna reached in and pulled it shut with a curious but knowing look on her face.

They sat there for a long time, alternately sobering, then dissolving once more into hysteria. Sam recounted for Josh how Toby had systematically drawn out a diagram of the sperm battlefield when Sam had insisted he couldn't make them look realistic. And Josh confessed that he had eavesdropped on CJ when she had taken a call from Toby regarding the research he'd done on his own of the prescription Sam was taking.

"He's very fond of you, you know," Josh offered. "He'd have to be to do this for you." Patting down his pockets, scouting for a tissue.

Sam, fighting back sniffles himself. "I tried to warn him. I told him how weird it could get. He said I should drink some chamomile tea and take a hot bath." Sam was running his hands through his hair. He took a deep breath, looked up at Josh. "I tried to warn him," he said again quietly.

Josh stopped his searching and scooted his chair a little closer to Sam. "Hey, I know. I did too. I think when he checked with the First Lady he realized that there really is a very very small percentage of people who react this way, and you happen to be one of them." Sam still looked a little dejected, so Josh took another stab. "Look. Last week, when you were falling over dead exhausted, making no sense, confused, irritated? Toby's the one who went to Leo. He told him something was wrong with you. We've all kinda learned to live with your insomnia, but Toby was the first to realize this was much more. I...." Josh felt the room shift away from him a little. "I'm sorry, Sam. That should have been me."

Sam shook his head slightly. "Josh," he whispered cautiously. "Don't you dare feel guilty. I - I won't allow it. It almost *has* to get that bad before I know what I have to do. Hell, if I didn't get this obsessive, I'd take the damn stuff every night."

Josh's eyes grew a little darker at that. For years he'd been secretly afraid that one day Sam would give in and start taking Ambien nightly, or at least more frequently. They'd talked about it when the drug had first come on the market, and Sam was skeptical of his doctor's warnings about building a tolerance. It chilled Josh's blood the night Sam confessed that he wasn't worried about addiction, because that only became an issue if he *stopped* taking it, the implication clear. Backpeddling at Josh's concern, Sam acknowledged it was a stupid thing to think. Josh was ashamed to admit he was actually relieved when Sam's reaction to the drug had been so intense, and hoped it was enough to keep him from being tempted to make it a regular habit.

Reading his closest friend's thoughts, Sam reached out a reassuring hand. "I won't. I can't. But it sure as hell feels good to get into bed and *know* I'll be dead asleep in half an hour," his eyes twinkling a little now.

Head bobbing up and down along with his Adam's apple, Josh forced his eyes away from Sam for a moment. "Yeah. I'm just sorry I wasn't here for you." His voice scratchy.

"It's okay, `cause Toby and I, you know, we bonded. Big time." Smiles returned to both faces. "And I should get back." Sam's voice turned conspiratorial. "I haven't gotten much work done this week."

Watching Sam saunter down the hall, Josh crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

"Do I even want to know?" Donna's eyes large and bright.

"Nooooooo." Josh tipped his head back and sighed. "Hey. You got any tissues?"

**

"Toby." The voice was soft, barely heard above the gentle clacking of the keyboard. "Do you have a minute?"

Toby's thick fingers paused above the keys of his laptop for a split second before continuing. He inclined his head towards the sofa, indicating to Sam that he would need another moment.

Settling himself into the cushions, Sam surveyed the office briefly before resting his eyes back on Toby. Despite the particularly gruff display of irritation Toby seemed to reserve exclusively for Sam, his admiration for the man continued to grow by the day. This last week had been challenging for both of them. Sam realized only today just how much he relied on Josh in times of personal unrest. And while he was unnerved by the feeling of dependence, he was consoled by the certainty of their relationship. If CJ had been around, he wouldn't have hesitated imposing on her, and, no doubt, she would have listened patiently to him for a day or so before throwing him out and locking her door.

But Toby had revealed an unforeseen level of patience and tolerance that Sam had found astounding, and reassuring. It was not in Toby's nature to be that indulgent towards anyone. Josh was right. Without ever having said anything of the kind, Toby had demonstrated to Sam just how warmly he regarded him. And Benjamin Disraeli had reminded Sam what a gift that was. Suddenly realizing that Toby had stopped typing and was appraising him with unabashed curiosity flustered Sam.

"Oh! Sorry. I wasn't staring at you," Sam stammered. "I mean, I was staring at you. But I wasn't looking at you." He squirmed in his seat.

"I know. You just faded away. Still trying to figure out...?" Toby deliberately closed his laptop.

"Yeah. I mean, no! It was the wrong quote, I think." That sounded like he'd gotten it wrong, so Sam began again. "It wasn't the words that were the message. I think it was the man. Reminding me of something else."

Toby steepled his fingers above elbows planted on his desk, and regarded Sam carefully. He looked less disheveled than earlier, the brightness that had come to his face when Josh had returned still in evidence. Toby tried to imagine what next week would be like, having Sam off the pills and back to normal. Which made him chortle out loud.

In answer to Sam's surprised expression, Toby said "I was just thinking of you being back to normal. And how unlikely that is." The grin still breaking up his usually stoic face. "I got to thinking about Disraeli. I've never gotten why you found him so interesting." Sam shrugged. "But he did say some great things. And I came across something that made me think of you."

"You did? Me too. About you."

Toby looked genuinely intrigued.

"I can't believe it took Josh to remind me. It's always been my favorite, I can't say why; it's not wise or witty. Maybe it was preparing me to work with you." Sam's eyes were sparkling now, and Toby felt a little bubble of something in his chest.

"It destroys one's nerves to be amiable every day to the same human being," Toby recited to Sam's amazed delight.

Bowing his head a little, Sam replied, " 'I never deny; I never contradict; I sometimes forget.' " Knowing he'd gotten it right by the look of shocked amusement from Toby. "And... thank you Toby."

Both men were grinning wildly at each other when CJ knocked on the doorframe. "God, you look like idiots. Hey, Sam. Toby, I need to know what you want me to say about the phone call the President is going to make tonight to Senator Haig...."

Sam pulled himself off the sofa and headed out the door past CJ.

"Sam?" Toby's voice caught him at the last moment, still smiling warmly. "Go to work."

"Yes sir."