Signed Sealed Delivered--I'm Yours


Cara

---

        Sam Seaborn stretched his aching back and rested in his big chair. It had been one helluva day, and it wasn't over yet. Toby was bugging him for the final draft of the President's speech to the FCC people. Leo was annoyed because Sam had made the Freudian slip of telling a gay flutist that playing the “fruit” must be nice. Ainsley was beginning to pick at him because he had transposed one word in his latest press release. And it was Valentine's Day tomorrow and he had no date.
        Even as his thoughts ran the same course a hand tapped lightly on his door. “Go away, Ainsley.” Sam didn't even look up.
        “It's not Ainsley. It's me, C.J..”
        “Oh.” Though she clearly had to talk to him about something, he couldn't very well tell her to go away. “Come on in.”
        C.J. Cregg ducked her head inside his door. Her cynical eyes took in the slightly fetid smell of old take-out boxes and the literal mountains of paper. Shit-eating grin playing on the corners of her mouth, she said, “Sam, I hate to add to your paperwork, but there's one more thing I have to tell you.”
        “Yeah?”
        “Professor Godwin just died.”
        Sam lifted his eyes from his desk and turned to her. “Not Professor Godwin from Princeton? Political science Professor Godwin?”
        She nodded. “The cancer was too much for him.”
“That's terrible.”
“Well, he was getting old, Sam.” C.J. let a smile cross her face. “But I do remember my graduate courses with him. You didn't like him, but you sure respected him.”
“Yeah, he could always make statistics jump right off the page.”
C.J. snorted. Whatever. She knew Sam was a numbers geek but that was too much. “Anyway,” she continued, walking into the office, “he left a note for you in his will. And one for me, too.” She held hers up. “I haven't opened mine yet.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Sam asked rhetorically. Together he and C.J. ripped open their envelopes. Together they gaped in utter shock at what lay inside.
“It's a riddle.” Sam finally put together a coherent thought.
“It's a challenge.” C.J. stared at Sam grimly. Out loud, she read her part:

        “If you are as smart as you may think,
        You'll unravel my hints without a kink,
        But who am I kidding? You do things by rote
        So for the answers look in Seaborn's note.”

Sam ripped his envelope open without another thought. Scanning it quickly, he told C.J. its contents: “There's something really valuable among his papers. But, his papers are in a storage room in Maryland.”
C.J. sighed. “OK. Do we want to go looking for it?”
“Why not?”
“Let's see.” C.J. ticked off the reasons, one by one, on her slender fingers. “We have the German ambassador coming in three days. We have a bill on telecommunications that needs polishing by tomorrow. And, least of all, I have a date with Danny tomorrow night!”
“Oh, heaven forbid you miss that.” The most annoying thing about Sam was that he was completely serious where any normal man would be sarcastic to the best of his ability.
C.J. stifled the urge to strangle him. “So do you want to do it?”
“Again, why not? I like the idea of a treasure hidden somewhere in his old papers.” Sam's eyes sparkled like the child he occasionally was.
C.J. snorted. “Treasure. Right. More likely it's just a roomful of old papers.”
“Then why would he leave us all this?”
“To mess with us.”
Sam didn't answer. Instead he stared at C.J. wordlessly, eyes boring into hers with a mien in his eyes perilously close to that of a puppy.
This lasted for several seconds. But it lasted a longer time than Sam had expected because, oddly enough, C.J. had kept staring. There was something in his eyes that was nice. They were clear and open; a breath of fresh air in an increasingly stale environment. Ever since the shooting she had felt a kinship with Sam. He had saved her life. That immediately made them close friends.
She shook herself and responded. “Oh, fine.” C.J. said, turning away. “Pick me up tomorrow morning at seven.”
Just as she spoke, unfortunately, Donna Moss strolled by Sam's open door. “Oh, good, C.J., you're here.” She handed C.J. an envelope. “Here.”
“What is this, Donna?” C.J. asked.
“Inside is the name of your secret valentine.”
“What?”
“Why not?” Donna looked petulant, like a small child. “The President was all right with it. In fact,” she said, looking like an old country biddy about to unleash a great secret, “the President and the First Lady even said they would play.”
C.J. chuckled. “So what's the deal, Donna?”
“Well, C.J., you write your name on the card inside the envelope. All the girls are doing this. Then you give it to me and I redistribute the names among the guys on the senior staff. Everyone gets a nice Valentine's Day gift, and everyone's happy.”
“Define 'nice gift.'” Sam appraised Donna critically. She was a wonderful person, but her schemes had a way of going wrong.
Thus, he was rather surprised as she said, “Dinner for two at Chez Louis for each couple sound good?”
“Donna!” C.J. gasped. “That place costs a fortune!”
“Not if you know the owner.” Donna grinned. “Just write your message on the envelope. No names, period. I haven't decided who will be paired with who.”
C.J. asked the question Sam hadn't had the guts to pose. “Who's in on this, may I ask?”
“Oh, a lot of people.” Donna ticked off the names on her fingers. “There's … hm. You, Sam, me, Ainsley, Josh, Toby, Margaret, Leo, and the President and Mrs. Bartlet.”
Sam swallowed. He'd have to have a little talk with Donna. Ending up with the First Lady, or Ainsley, might have damaging effects that would take years to counteract.
C.J., meanwhile, was nodding calmly. None of the men on that list would cow her in any way. Some, in fact, might be a lot of fun. She was just relieved Donna hadn't asked Danny. “OK, Donna. Sam and I will play.”
“Hey, who's speaking for Sam over here?” the latter grumbled. But he didn't object further, and Donna sailed out of his office.
C.J. grinned. “So, Sam. You and Ainsley would make an interesting couple!”
“Oh, really?” Sam felt the urgent need to riposte. “What about you and Leo? Or you and me?”
“You and me. That'd be interesting.” C.J. grinned again. But was it just his imagination, or did her grin get just a bit softer?
Well, it was something to check out.

The next morning, C.J. half-smiled as she spied Sam's pristine SUV pull up outside her apartment building, neurotically punctual as usual. Putting her stuff into the car, she commented as such. “Live and die by the clock, eh Sam?”
“Of course. I've gotten used to it at work.” Sam said. Changing the subject, he asked, “So, what do you think is actually in Professor Godwin's papers?”
“Who knows?” C.J. asked. “And how does he know we'll know it when we see it?”
        “Well, if nothing else, we'll have a good time together,” Sam chirped. Again, C.J. had to stifle the urge to strangle him, but less of an urge came this time. She wondered if it was something that one simply got used to. For people working in the same section of the West Wing, she and Sam spent very little actual time together.
Sam, meanwhile, was coolly appraising C.J.. He knew she wanted to strangle him, but he also knew she wouldn't act on it. For someone with one of the most high-profile jobs in the Bartlet administration, she was a very closed-off person. She'd always intrigued him, and now he had time to find out more. He'd like to be better friends with her. And since the shooting, he'd only gotten glimpses of what he knew was there.
The drive was uneventful, aside from C.J. earning Sam's ire by turning on an extremely loud rock n'roll station. “Dammit, C.J., I told you,” Sam said, switching the dial back to oldies for the four hundredth time, “I drive, it's my car, it's my music.”
“Sam, you're old before your time.” C.J. smiled. “Don't you ever relax?”
“Pot calling the kettle black, C.J.?” Sam jeered. “We work for the most powerful man in the world. We're not allowed to relax.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Sam tried to turn the conversation back to serious business, but failed. Teasing C.J. was more fun than he could have imagined. “So, how do you want to approach this? I mean, so you can get back for your date with Danny in time.”
To his surprise, she sighed. “I don't know, Sam. And the date really isn't that important.”
“Really?” Sam couldn't help himself. “Why?”
“Cause it's only a date in his mind.” C.J. sighed again. “It's tough to say no to Danny. He's a great guy. But I'm just not sure I want to have that kind of relationship with him.” She sort of forgot her audience for a moment. “I want a boyfriend, but I want someone who understands that my job is the most important thing in my life. Without this, I'd be back in California, serving as toady to self-serving sex and violence merchants.” The steel was evident in her voice. “I was lost there. Sometimes I think I still am.”
Then, as if returning from a parallel universe, C.J. blinked a bit and smiled ruefully. “And why I just told you all this, Sam, I have no idea. I'm sure you could care less.”
Sam was, for once in his life, utterly at a loss for words. What could he say that wouldn't sound patronizing, or just hopelessly stupid? Still, it was interesting that Concannon hadn't completely penetrated her armor. Finally, he settled for a brilliant, “Don't worry about it.”
They continued to drive on.

Meanwhile, the West Wing soldiered on. “Donnatella Moss!” Josh Lyman hollered.
She appeared immediately, having been just outside his door. “Yes?”
“Are you serious that I can't pick my own Valentine's Day date?”
“Yes.” Donna was nonplussed. “That's why you agreed to my little game.”
“Well …” Josh floundered. “Never mind that. But what if I wind up with Ainsley? Or Margaret?”
“Then you'll have to swallow your pride for a night, or listen to Margaret talk. Neither would be fatal.”
“How do you know!” Josh threw up his hands in annoyance. “And where the hell is Sam? I need the FCC speech by four.”
“Toby's handling it. Sam and C.J. took the day off.”
“Of all days, today?” Josh mumbled. “Fine. Donna, get me Toby.” He moved away from her, but thought better of it. “Donna, can you do one thing for me?”
“What?”
Josh's smile was at its sweetest – a fact not entirely unnoticed by Donna. “Please, please, please don't put me with Ainsley.”
Donna's face was cold. But, unexpectedly, she relented. “Oh, fine. Let me write that down.” She moved away, calling, “I'll get Toby for you!”
She proceeded to do so, but not before she was stopped by Leo McGarry in the hall. “Donna, here's your envelopes for Margaret, and the First Lady.”
“Thank you, Leo.”
“I also have a favor to ask you.”
“Yes?”
Leo screwed up his face, trying to remember. “Margaret asks that she not be put with Josh, and please do not put me with C.J. – just for now. She's still not happy with me over the energy bill.”
Donna sighed. “Fine.” She hadn't wanted to make exceptions, but it was only fair. She was trying to make everyone happy, not want to kill each other. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” Leo answered decisively. “Donna, please do not put Mrs. Bartlet with Sam.” He explained, “Mrs. Bartlet likes Sam, but she just spent a considerable amount of time with a bunch of teenage boys from the 4H Clubs of America. And given how Sam can be …”
“Right.” Donna had to give him that one. “I'll keep that in mind.”
“Thank you.” Leo walked away. “And get Josh to finish that damn FCC speech!” he called as he turned into his office.
“Yes, sir.” Donna called back as she turned into Toby's office.
The Communications Director was in a distinctly foul mood. “Why the hell did Sam and C.J. take the day off anyway? Leave me with four speeches that have to be finished – oh, hi Donna.”
“Hi, Toby,” Donna said, not in the least cowed. Months of dealing with Josh had her prepared for any male crisis. “My boss asks that you get on the phone with him about the FCC speech.”
“Fine.” Toby picked up the handset and brutally assaulted the keys.
“Thanks, Toby,” Donna said, hoping she wouldn't get another Valentines request. Honestly, she thought to herself, there's a reason some of these people can't get dates.
Her hopes were dashed in the last moment. “And hey, Donna? Don't put me with Margaret. The woman drives me nuts sometimes.”
She could have strangled Toby cheerfully, but instead she just nodded and left.

C.J. stopped for a moment, pausing to massage her throbbing hands. “Sam, I just don't see anything here,” she said, defeated. “We've gone through these papers for three hours.”
“I'm beginning to agree with you,” Sam said. He sat down on a pile of papers. “All that's here is old legal papers and notes about opinions.”
As he spoke, however, some chord struck in C.J.'s brain. “Sam, when you told me there was something valuable in his papers, was that a direct quote?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, looking puzzled. “Why?”
“Don't you see?” C.J. could hardly believe she'd overlooked the possibility herself. “Something valuable doesn't have to be money, or stuff like that. Professor Godwin was in contact with Washington insiders.”
“And he was a Republican.”
“Whatever.” C.J. waved her hand irritably. “The point is, there could be political gold hidden in this room!”
“My God.” Sam began to get excited. “There could be inside dirt on a Congressman, there could be a lost dissent or opinion, there could be anything!” He sat up straighter. However, in his excitement, he forgot where he was sitting. The pile of papers tumbled to the floor, taking Sam along with them. He landed upside down, hitting his head on the stone floor.
He lay in one position for a couple of minutes, merely dazed from the fall. C.J., however, started to worry. “Sam, are you ok?” she asked.
“Ow,” he mumbled, reaching back to rub his head, and turning bright pink as he spied C.J., now trying her best not to laugh.
C.J. couldn't keep the giggles inside, though she immediately helped Sam to his feet. “Sorry,” she said. Still, this unnerved her: she should be used to Sam falling by now, but why had she been so worried when his head had hit the ground?
“It's ok.” Sam said, grinning ruefully. “So, you wanna look for it again?”
C.J. shook her head. No. “Not til I get some food and call Toby. He's got to be mad that we both took off.”
“Oh yeah.” Sam's sunny expression clouded over. “There are about four speeches to finish, aren't there, and bills to cover?”
“Yeah.” C.J. turned back to the paper pile. “I wish we could come up with a little more on the telecommunications bill, though.”
“It's incomplete as it stands,” Sam answered. “And I don't like the fact that Lillienfield is crowing that he has something for the Republicans.”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn't you watch the news?” Sam never missed a news program if he could help it. He claimed it was so he could do his job better; C.J. and the rest of the staff just thought of him as a dork. “Lillienfield went public hinting that the Republicans had the votes to turn down the bill.”
“How does he know that?” C.J. was on the defensive now.
Sam shrugged. “Got me. I'm sure Toby and Josh are working on it.”
C.J. whipped out her cellular phone and waited impatiently for it to connect. At length she spoke. “Toby, it's me, C.J..” A pause. “Yes, I know. Sam told me.” Another pause. “Yes, we're together! Not together together.” Sam went red – how embarrassing.
C.J. waited for Toby to finish. “Yeah, that's it. But what's up with the telecommunications bill?” She sat down gingerly on another, shorter pile of papers as she listened to Toby. Eventually she said, “I see. Thanks. Sam and I will be in the office soon.” She was about to hang up when she said, “Oh, tell Donna one thing, Toby: not to put me with the President. I don't want to talk work on Valentine's Day, and I know I'll wind up doing that. Thanks.” She hung up.
“Thanks for reminding me,” Sam said as C.J. put her phone back in her pocket.
“What?”
“I don't want to be with Margaret on Valentine's Day. I have to tell Donna.”
“Why?”
“Just because.” Sam smiled impishly. “Valentine's Day is a time for fun, not a time to listen to your boss's assistant talk.”
C.J. raised her eyebrows a bit. “Oh, so you'd be happier with Donna or Ainsley?”
“God, not Ainsley.” Sam shuddered involuntarily. “She was picking at me today because one word was out of place in the press release on the President's check-up. One word!” He shook his head.
“That's Ainsley.”
“Still.” Changing the subject, Sam said, “What do you feel like for food, C.J.?”
“How about a pizza?”
        “Sounds good to me,” Sam said. “But no peppers.”
“Sam, what good is a pizza without peppers?”
“Pretty damn good.”
“Well, fine, no sausage.”
“C.J.!”
“What did I tell you, Sam, about whining to me?” …

“Cathy, I'm going to go nuts, I swear!”
Sam's assistant turned to face Donna, who was looking distinctly fatigued. “Why?”
“Because all I try to do is make the world a better place and all I get for it is yelling!” Cathy looked mystified. Donna explained, “Very few people in this office have a date for Valentine's Day, and no one gets into the spirit. So, to help that, I decided on a secret Valentine game. But everyone keeps saying who they don't want as a Valentine!”
“Don't worry about it, Donna,” Cathy said, being levelheaded as she normally was. “Everyone will get over it. It's the FCC speech, and the telecommunications bill.”
“Yeah, I suppose you're right,” Donna conceded. “I mean, the day after tomorrow is Valentine's Day. No one can be grumpy then.”
“You have met Toby, right?” Ginger, Toby's assistant chuckled as she came into the bullpen, as the senior staff liked to call it.
“You know what I mean.” Donna refused to be daunted. “Want to see my chart?” She showed them a small diagram of each White House staffer, and who they refused to be matched to.
“At this rate you'll only have one possibility to choose from for each,” Ginger commented.
“And I still haven't got C.J. and Sam's little quibbles yet,” Donna answered. “But I have to add my own.” She made an X in the box shared by her and Sam.
“Why don't you want to go out with my boss?” Cathy asked, a little hurt.
“Nothing personal. It's just that Sam talks too much.” Donna was, if nothing else, blunt. “So, that leaves Sam with C.J.”
“That'd be interesting,” commented Ginger.
“Yeah.” Donna chuckled. “She's so cynical, and he's such an idealist …”
“Twenty bucks says they're at each others' throats before the night is out,” Cathy said, grinning.
        “I don't know,” Donna said thoughtfully. “Opposites attract. Now, if me and Josh wind up together, then you'll have a fight on your hands.”
Cathy wisely remained silent.

“Damn it, Sam, how can you possibly say that?” C.J. exclaimed angrily as she moodily finished off a slice of pepperoni pizza. “Lillienfield is an arrogant jackass, how can you give his absurd claims any credence? It's ridiculous. Whatever he has, it's not worth the trouble.”
“Well, he's got something, that's for sure!” Sam answered, his normally equable temper beginning to fray. “Otherwise why would he be so cocksure? He knows he can't bluff this administration; God knows he's tried. This is concrete.”
“I don't buy it.” C.J. was stubborn. “Lillienfield will bluff anything and everything, especially to piss off the President. He enjoys nothing better.”
“Still, C.J., I have to tell you I can sort of guess when someone is outright lying to me.” Sam continued to press the point. “Lillienfield said they had something. He looked me straight in the eye.”
“Sam, give it a rest, okay?” C.J. said, tiring of the argument that she knew she couldn't completely win. “Lillienfield once told the Ambassador from Norway that the White House hot dogs were made out of former President Clinton's dog Buddy. And he was believed.”
“Really?” Even Sam had to be impressed by that one. “Wow.”
“Yes,” C.J. said with some irony. “A consummate politician. Which -” She stopped herself in time from saying it. *Which you are not, Sam,* she thought. For some reason, she didn't want to say it aloud. It might hurt him. But he wasn't a politician. He was too damn innocent for that.
Where in the hell, she asked herself, was she getting these vibes from? Sam had never meant *that* much to her. They were friends, of course, but she'd never looked at him THAT way.
Still, there was something very appealing in those eyes. God, he was a walking cliché of the American Dream. Symmetrical features, square jaw, and those cobalt blue eyes that could only be called magnetic …
She shook herself out of her reverie. Sam was saying something. “Excuse me?”
“I said, is there any way to call his bluff, if it IS a bluff?” he asked. “Any legal loophole we can use to tip his hand?”
“I don't think so,” C.J. sighed. “The only thing I can possibly think of is to get right down in the mud with him. Lillienfield has more indiscretions than you could possibly think of. There's got to be SOMETHING we can use.”
“True,” Sam mused, polishing off the last slice.
“Damn it, Sam, I wanted that pizza.”
“Sorry.” He got up, made to hold the door for her, and promptly slipped on a patch of ice in the vestibule.
C.J. rolled her eyes. Cancel her flattering remarks. Sam was still such a child. It was hard to believe that one of the brightest minds in the country was still a longshot to stay on his feet for the entire day.
She helped him to his feet, unaware of the fiery red tinge to his skin. “Let's get back to the warehouse,” she commanded, “and try for a bit longer to find what we need.”
On the way back Sam called Toby to check in. He was distinctly unprepared for the task, and found Toby even grouchier than usual. “Where the hell are you two?” Toby growled. “I've got speeches up to my ass and you two decide to take a day in the country!”
“It's not like that, Toby.” Sam earnestly sought to explain. “See, we're going through our old poli sci professor's papers. He wrote C.J. and I and said there may be something in his papers we could use.”
“Wait a minute.” Sam heard the rustling of papers in the background. “Your old poli sci professor.”
“Yeah,” Sam confirmed, praying Toby wouldn't bust a blood vessel or three for his taking a day on such a comparatively unimportant task.
His boss's next thought threw him for a Herculean loop. “Professor Harold Godwin?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, shooting C.J. a strange look. What was Toby on about?
He explained momentarily. “Sam, I know what you're looking for.”
“What!” Sam exclaimed. In his excitement, his arm shot up in the air, and thus, off the steering wheel. C.J. had some nasty moments as the SUV headed for a pine tree, but Sam jerked it back on the road. “Let me pull over, Toby,” he said, with an apologetic glance for the extremely unnerved Press Secretary.
Once they were settled at a nearby rest stop, Sam spoke once more, plugging the phone into the speaker outlet so C.J. could listen too. “OK, Toby, could you please explain? You're on speaker now.”
“Sure. Godwin was a leading Republican advisor on the Hill,” Toby said. “He was the money behind several campaigns. One of those was Peter Lillienfield's.”
“Jesus.”
“My God,” C.J. said. “You were right, Sam.”
“How I love those words.”
“Shut up.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway,” Toby said, annoyed, “Godwin resigned from Lillienfield's staff three years ago, when his cancer caught up with him. He took a lot of personnel records with him.”
“Including Lillienfield's.”
“Right, C.J.,” Toby said, relieved to be talking to the coherent person in the car. “And you know what we could do with that information.”
“Bring the opposition to the telecommunications bill down,” Sam chipped in, making C.J. grin. He made it all sound so simple. “We're on it, Toby.”
“We'll call in if we find something,” C.J. added.
“Right.”
They disconnected. “Well, now we have some focus,” Sam said.
“Yeah,” C.J. said, trying to dwell on the positives. She thought, *I'm not sure my current focus is where I should be.*

President Bartlet strode leisurely down into the West Wing. “Leo, you there?” he asked, pressing the intercom button.
After a moment, his friend responded. “Right here, Mr. President.”
“What's going on today?”
“You have a meeting with the Irish ambassador at twelve,” Leo said. “Mrs. Landingham should have the briefing on your desk as soon as Toby finishes it.”
Bartlet's brow furrowed. “Shouldn't Sam be working on it?”
“He took a personal day. He and C.J. will be back tomorrow.”
“They both took a personal day?” The President chuckled. “Toby must be very annoyed right now.”
“You might want to avoid him.” Leo didn't mince words. “But Sam and C.J. could come back with something very valuable.”
“What?”
Leo enlightened the President about Sam and C.J.'s quest. “And if they find Lillienfield's personnel records, there's gonna be something in there we can use.”
“I don't like it, Leo.” Bartlet frowned. “It's dirty.”
“Yes sir.”
“And if it comes back to bite us, I'll hold you responsible.”
“Yes sir.”
“And if it works, the credit is Sam and C.J.'s.”
“Yes sir. I understand.”

Sam breathed a sigh of annoyance as he sustained his fifth paper cut of the afternoon. This was getting to be a fruitless quest. “C.J., why do I get the feeling that we're not going to find anything?”
Now it was C.J. who was getting on Sam's nerves. “Oh, come on, have a little faith!” she admonished, digging through another pile of papers. “I think we'll find it yet. Where's that optimism I keep hearing about?”
“It's leaking out through my fingers,” Sam said dryly, holding up his bleeding hand.
Immediately C.J. stopped. “Oh, geez, I'm sorry. Anything I can do?”
“Actually …” Sam hesitated before mentioning it, then decided a little ribbing was a small price to pay. “I have a first aid kit in my car.”
“Why am I not surprised?” C.J. grinned. Still, that was all she said as she left to get the kit. She was only gone a matter of moments and she began to bandage his hand right away. “Sam, honestly, how *do* you sustain so many injuries in the course of a normal day?”
“I have no idea whatsoever.” Sam was perfectly honest. “Things just happen.”
“Maybe they wouldn't, if you looked before you run where angels fear to tread,” C.J. chided softly.
“Well, C.J., we're even, aren't we?” Sam said, trying to lighten the mood. “I'm a walking bruise, and you're …”
“I'm what, Sam?” She stopped bandaging to look him squarely in the eye. Something told him he'd better choose his words carefully.
“Well …” Eventually in spite of that he decided to shoot from the hip. “C.J., you are so closed off. I'd really like to be better friends with you, and yet you don't let me. I don't understand you. It's like you think you're the only person in the world with problems or something.”
She jerked back as if he had slapped her. “C.J., I'm sorry …” Sam said desperately. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he'd pissed her off somehow, and for some strange reason, that realization made his stomach twist into knots.
“It's ok, Sam.” C.J. turned away, just wanting to get her bearings. No, it wasn't okay, and she knew damn well why. “Sam, it just … well, that hurts me, to be honest.”
“Why?”
Forgetting her tension for a moment, C.J. rolled her eyes. “You are such an idiot.”
“I know.” Sam didn't even try to argue, he just wanted her to be all right and not hate him.
His simple response did wonders for C.J., and it was the impetus for her to reveal herself. “Sam, I'm just a little confused.”
“What?” Sam was honestly flabbergasted. C.J. Cregg, anything less than put together? She was always so calm, cool and collected. He didn't think he'd ever seen a hair out of place.
The idea that filled him was so bewilderingly, joltingly obvious that he actually shook himself from the force of it. Maybe that was C.J.'s problem. Everyone always *expected* her to be put together and on top of everything. No one gave her a chance to relax and be herself.
So he said, awkwardly, “C.J., I'm sorry. That was out of line.”
“It's all right, Sam.” Though she tried very hard not to show it, Sam could see a few shallow rivulets on her normally unruffled cheeks.
Oh, Jesus. He'd made her cry. “C.J.,” he began awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
She cut him off. “No, Sam, really. You know what? Every time I try to open up, I get my ass burned. I opened up to Danny and he turns into this bloodsucking appendage, looking for stories. I open up to Josh and he just heckles me.”
Sam muttered something distinctly uncomplimentary about his best friend and a donkey. “C.J., that's just Josh. You know that.”
“Yeah.” She was getting it together now, wiping her cheeks, angry with herself for her sudden weakness. “But still, it's hard for me. And they always expect me to be the strong one.”
Sam would never know what made him say it, but he'd opened his big mouth. It was too late now. “You don't have to be the strong one around me, C.J. – really, you don't. I'm not trying to pity you or anything. I mean, it would be chivalrous, but -”
“Sam!” C.J. cut off one of his famous ramblings. Smiling, she said, “I appreciate it. Really.”
She was about to say more, but visibly stopped herself. “Let's look for Professor Godwin's papers one more time, then let's head back.” Checking her watch, she explained, “It's 4:26 pm.”
“Wow.” Sam came down, gingerly, from his seat on a pile of papers. This time he managed to avoid injury, but the papers came down in a heap in front of them. He mumbled a distinctly profane statement.
C.J. had to laugh. “Sam, dammit, I just finished going through those -” All speech stopped as she spied the familiar sheet of paper peeking out from under a sheaf of folders.
Sam noticed it too. “Jesus,” he breathed. “After all this time, it was right there.”
C.J. didn't answer. She took the file and flipped through it. Her eyebrows went up more than once at the parade of iniquity listed there.
“What?”
“How does the man manage to stay in office?”
“Got me.”
For the umpteenth time, C.J. had to laugh. In the workplace, Sam's unfettered optimism was a definite Achilles heel, but out here it was strangely invigorating. And those damned vibes were still there.
Finally she spoke. “Sam, given what's here, we have the votes in hand. Easily.”
“Really?” Sam perused a page of the file and his eyes widened in shock and agreement. “Wow. I didn't even know that was legal in Thailand.”
“Whatever.” C.J. couldn't restrain another grin. My God. Her coworkers would think she had gotten Sam's happy bug or something. “The point is, Lillienfield is signed, sealed and delivered.”
“He's ours.” The two high-fived.
“Let's get back,” C.J. said. “I have a feeling Toby will need this pick-me-up.”

She was very right. “Josh!” Toby could be heard bellowing all the way down the hall.
Donna rolled her eyes. “Josh!” she repeated in a softer tone, sticking her head into her boss's office. “Toby's on the warpath.”
“Oh, shit.” Josh mumbled, shaking himself awake. He hadn't meant to fall asleep or anything, but 265 was so *boring* …
“Josh, get down there now. Toby sounds like he's about to bust a blood vessel.”
“All right!” Josh pulled himself to his feet. “Donna, you're fired.”
“Okay.” She turned around and asked ostentatiously, “Ginger, do you have a box? I have to clean out my desk.”
“Donnatella!” Josh hollered. “You will do no such thing!”
“But you fired me.”
“Well, I didn't mean it.”
“Then how will I know what you mean and what you don't?”
“I … you …” Josh was not in the mood. “Guess,” he finally snapped, running down the hall.
Getting to Toby's office, he steeled himself for another round of yelling. But instead he was stunned to hear instead sounds of laughter.
Josh barrelled into the office. “Toby! My God, are you all right? Little too much Tylenol again? You're laughing!”
Toby wiped his eyes. “Josh,” he said, through helpless giggles, “the telecommunications bill is in the bag.”
Again, Josh was flabbergasted. “But I thought Lillienfield had the votes!”
“He did!” Toby breathed a sigh of relief, calming down. He had lived and breathed this bill for weeks, and now to see it pass was one of the defining moments of his career. “But Sam and C.J. got the dirt we need. Didn't you guys?” he said, motioning to the speakerphone.
Dimly Josh could hear Sam and C.J. chorus, “We did it!”
“Congratulations, you guys!” Josh said loudly. “C.J., you got through the whole day without killing him?”
“Yeah, he's here and in one piece,” C.J. told her friend. “Well, mostly one piece.”
“If you don't count several paper cuts,” Sam said, irritation coloring his words.
“And a bump on the head,” C.J. added.
“C.J.!”
“Well, Sam, what can I do, lie?”
“No, I guess not. But all the same, you had to tell them?” Sam's whiny tone could be heard clear through the speakers.
Toby sighed in annoyance. “Sam, stop whining or your cellphone will be exploring uncharted territory. And get back here with that file.”
“Toby, has Danny called today?” C.J. took the conversation in a new direction.
It was Josh who answered. “No, he hasn't, C.J. Why?”
It took her a moment to respond. “Cause I have to break a date with him.”
“C.J.!” The two men heard Sam exclaim. “Why?”
“You know why, Sam,” C.J. said. “I told you. And no, Joshua, I will not tell you.”
“Okay, okay.” Josh backed down. She was telling Sam secrets? What had *happened* today with those two?
“But thanks all the same. Sam and I will be in at eight or so.”
“Thanks.”
In the background they could hear Sam. “Oh, what a great song.” Josh grinned as he heard the strains of “She's Always A Woman” by Billy Joel. Sam was an oldies nut, and Billy Joel was way up there. “Bye, you two.” Josh disconnected, and turned to Toby. “Well, hell. Telecomm is all set. I now have nothing to do tonight.”
It was Toby's turn to change the subject. “What do you think is up with Sam and C.J.?”
Josh shrugged. “What makes you think there's anything up?” he lied.
“Oh, I don't know … C.J.'s telling Sam secrets that she won't tell to her best friend, Josh Lyman?” Toby said. “And don't you tell me you're not just as confused as I am.”
“OK, I am confused,” Josh said. “But what's the harm? So they're a little better friends. It won't kill either of them.”
Toby didn't answer. “You didn't forget that Valentine's Day is the day after tomorrow?”
“No, not with Donna's little game.” Josh shuddered. “What if I get stuck with Ainsley all night?”
“I will mock you mercilessly, my friend.” Toby grinned evilly. “But my point is that if anything *is* going on with those two, it will make our monotonous Valentine's Day much more entertaining.”
Josh grinned in return. He liked the way Toby was thinking. “I'll do some investigating.”
“See that you do.”

Back in the car, Sam was in oldies heaven as he sang along. Only about halfway through the song did it occur how much the lyrics applied to the woman next to him. She was tough, brave and strong. But under that, she *was* a woman. And people seemed to forget that. But with her looking like that, Sam had no idea how they forgot. How he had forgotten.
He had to try.
Idly, he spoke. “C.J., I think this should be your song.” He sang the lyrics along with Billy, if only putting a little more emphasis on them.

1. “she takes care of herself – she can wait if she wants. She's ahead of her time.
   
2. and she never gives out, and she never gives in – she just changes her mind.
   
3. frequently kind and she's suddenly cruel – she can do as she pleases, she's nobody's fool.
   
4. she can't be convicted, she's earned her degree.
   
5. the most she will do is throw shadows at you – but she's always a woman to me.”
   

C.J. smiled as she listened. Sam understood things much better than she, or anyone in the West Wing, had ever guessed. “Nice song,” she said. “Who's it by again?”
“Billy Joel, he's my favourite,” Sam piped up.
C.J. nodded. “It's nice. I like it.”
“Oh.” Sam couldn't think of anything else to say. “Good.”
The two rode in silence for a while. As they pulled off the highway, C.J. turned to Sam. “I want to apologise for being so ornery today.”
Sam chuckled. “Oh, geez, C.J., I should apologise to you. I said that rude thing. I made you cry.”
“Sam, I deserved it. I hardly ever show you all anything except work.”
“But it was still out of line.”
“Don't keep apologising, dammit -”
“Why do you take everything on yourself -”
They both stopped and laughed at the same time. “I'm sorry,” Sam said. “And that's the last apology I'll have for you. Unless you deserve one,” he amended.
“That's fine.” C.J. said, smiling. Suddenly, she turned away from him, staring out the window. “You know, Sam, as long as we're opening up, can I ask you a personal question?”
“I guess so.”
Phrasing carefully, C.J. asked, “What happened with you and Mallory?”
Sam sighed. “We finally just called it off. She didn't understand that what I told her was true. I really am playing smart most of the time when it comes to women.” C.J. laughed. “Well, it's true!” Sam said, continued. “She just wanted something from me that I didn't have, I guess. There were no hard feelings.” Still, by the tone of his voice, he was obviously lying.
“Thank you,” C.J. said softly.
More silence ensued, until a song they both knew came on the radio: Joan Armatrading's “The Weakness In Me.” Each pursued a different inner monologue.
*Why is she still like this? I mean, we should be better friends by now. I really want to get to know her. I really am not the sort of person who falls in or quickly out of love. But I want to see if Danny's right about her. Cause I think there's a totally amazing woman under that coolness, and I'd like to find out. And she looks so beautiful right now … but what about Mal? She told me I don't have what it takes to get a woman. Do I?*
*Oh, my God … what's happening here? The song's right … is he so strong, and is all the weakness in me? He's only my friend. Nothing more. And he doesn't want anything more, anyway. He's still torn up over Mal. But maybe someone could comfort him. Maybe that someone could be me. But what the hell am I going to do with Danny? And why the hell am I thinking this way about my friend Sam? This can't be happening!*
Finally Sam made the turn back to the White House. “Let's go give Toby the file,” he said, half to himself.
“What? Sure.” C.J. shook herself out of her reverie.
The White House was dark by the time the two of them entered. “Toby?” C.J. called, searching the empty offices.
“It looks pretty deserted,” Sam said.
“Yeah, but Toby needs this,” C.J. answered. “He wouldn't leave.”
“True.”
They eventually happened upon Toby in Josh's office, working, with Donna taking dictation. “Oh, you're back,” he said, looking up.
“Hi, you guys.” Donna withdrew, having heard all about that afternoon's surprises from her boss.
“Toby, here's the file,” C.J. said, handing it to the Communications Director.
Flipping through it, Toby couldn't restrain a grin. “This is the file that finally brings Lillienfield down.”
“Don't think we don't appreciate that,” C.J. said, smiling. “But can Sam and I go home? We're tired.”
“Yeah, Toby, is that ok?” Sam didn't have to fake a yawn.
“Yeah, go. See you in the morning.” Toby waved a hand irritably. “Get Donna back in here, would you?”
“Sure. 'Night, Toby.”
“Night, Toby.”
“Night, guys.”
C.J. and Sam left the office and quickly located Donna. “Hey, Donna, as long as I have you, can I ask you something?”
        “Yeah, C.J., go ahead.”
“Can I not be put with the President on Valentine's Day?” C.J. asked, explaining her reasons.
“Yeah, sure. Sam, any objections? Comments? Whines?”
“Just answer,” C.J. said tiredly as Sam started to take offense. The younger man grudgingly told Donna his preferences, then made no further objection as C.J. pushed him to the door.
However, as soon as the two were outside, he turned to her. “You didn't have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to do it.” C.J. responded, a bit snappishly. Maybe her weird vibes that day had just been the product of fresh Maryland air. She wasn't used to it. Yeah, that was it.
Sam unlocked the car. “Well, let's go home. We've both got evil days tomorrow.”
C.J. let out a groan. “Don't *remind* me. Briefing after briefing after briefing.”
“And I have three speeches to write for tomorrow night.” Already Sam could feel the headache start.
C.J. was about to make it worse. “Sam, could I turn on some music?”
“Sure, what the hell.” It wasn't that long of a drive, Sam reckoned with a cynicism that would have astonished his companion. He could sit through it.
But, to his surprise, he found himself liking the beat. “This isn't bad, C.J., I gotta hand it to you.”
“Thanks.” C.J. couldn't hide the shit-eating grin. “I knew that if you gave it a try, you'd enjoy it.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
Sam instead focused on the lyrics.

“I'm afraid I'm starting to feel what I said I would not do
But last time really hurt me - I'm scared to fall in love
Afraid to love so fast - 'Cause every time I fall in love
It seems to never last …
But every time your love is near, and every time I'm filled with fear
'Cause every time I see your face my heart does begin to race every time …”

        Was that how it was now? He still wasn't sure. “What is this?” he asked.
        “It's called 'Every Time', by Janet Jackson.” Was it his imagination, or was she avoiding his eyes?
Sam tried again to lighten the mood. “It's not bad, but still, give me Sinatra any day of the week.” He began an exaggerated lip-synch. “You're just too marvelous – too marvelous for words like glorious, glamorous, and that old standby –amorous …”
C.J. giggled appropriately. But she still didn't say anything.
After what seemed like forever, the SUV pulled up outside C.J.'s building. “I had a good time today, C.J.,” Sam said diffidently.
She smiled. “I did too, Sam, despite all indications to the contrary.”
He would later say that was what made him do it. “Maybe we could spend some more time together.”
For one electric moment, she pondered the apparent invitation. Finally, wonderfully, happily, C.J. answered, “I'd like that.” She stepped away from the car. “See you tomorrow, Sam.”
“Bye, Claudia Jean.” Sam felt a shit-eating grin of his own coming on.
“Don't call me that, Samuel Norman.” She was too quick for him. “Later.”
“Bye.”
Sam drove home, full of conflicting emotions. Eventually, he tried to relax with some music, but the first song to come on was another Sinatra tune: “I've Got You Under My Skin.” Turning off the radio, he went over to the TV and flipped it on. The first program he saw was on the nature channel: the mating habits of the flamingo.
“I've got it bad, don't I?” he said aloud to his empty apartment. “But how does she feel? And how can I find out?”
Suddenly, the idea hit him: the envelopes. Engage in a little envelopian subterfuge, and the perfect Valentine's Day would be his. What better time to risk asking C.J. out than on the most romantic day of the year?
Now he just had to get his hands on her envelope.

*        *        *

*        *        *

Sam woke up the next morning with a new resolve. He would go to work, brilliantly rewrite and finish his four speeches, placate or at least grudgingly satisfy Toby, and somehow get C.J. to go out with him.
This plan was ruined when he abruptly looked at his flashing alarm clock. The power must have gone out during the night.
Sam fumbled for his watch and muttered something profane under his breath. He was supposed to be at work by 7:30 am. It was 8:19.
He vaulted out of bed, cursing steadily. Showered and dressed in ten minutes flat, he grabbed his briefcase and sprinted to his car. On the way he flipped open his phone and called Josh, wanting a mildly sympathetic voice to talk to before dealing with Toby and Leo.
He didn't get it. “Where the hell are you!” Josh yelled. “Toby's going nuclear, and I'm certainly not seeing speeches appearing on my desk!”
“The power went out last night, and my alarm didn't sound!” Sam complained. “I'm on my way now.”
“Well, be prepared. Leo and Toby are both looking for you.”
“Great.”
“In fact,” Josh continued, voice rising, “I think C.J. is the only one in the West Wing who isn't annoyed with you right now. And God knows why, given what you probably put her through yesterday. Get in here now.” He slammed the phone down.
In spite of himself, Sam was angry. Josh knew there wasn't a damned thing he could have done. And just because the man had meetings til hell froze over gave him no right to be so rude.
Still, given the reception, Sam arrived at the White House with the air of a man waiting to be executed. After clearing security, the first place he went was to Leo's office.
        Margaret, Leo's assistant, eyed Sam nervously as he went in. “Good luck,” she said. “I think I can reattach your head for you if you need it.”
“Oh, I will.” Sam bravely went in.
After a half-hour of continuous dressing-down, Sam left the office with Leo's words still ringing in his ears. He decided to swing by his own office before going to face Toby.
He wasn't prepared for the surprise waiting there. “C.J.!” Sam exclaimed, feeling the blood rush to his face. “What's up? Are you mad at me too?”
She chuckled. “No, Sam. I just wanted the first draft of the Amnesty International speech.”
“It's in my computer, I have to print it. I finished it last night at home.” Sam set his briefcase and laptop down, plugging the latter in. “Of course, my damn alarm clock has to short out this morning.”
“I heard. Believe me, I heard.”
“Josh yelled at me,” Sam said, allowing a bit of hurt to creep into his voice.
“That's Josh,” C.J. said diffidently, avoiding Sam's eyes. “When he's in this mood, it's best to stay out of his way. You know that.”
“Yeah. But he still shouldn't have yelled!” Sam said.
“What can you do?” C.J. shrugged.
Sam couldn't help appraising her as he accessed the speech. She looked really beautiful. *Of course,* he told himself, *she's probably worn this suit a hundred times. It's just that now, I notice.*
C.J. surreptitiously did the same. Even late and bedraggled he looked put together. And the fact that he hadn't taken the time to dry his hair scored points, too. Little tendrils were out of place, threatening to hang in his eyes. It was – dare she say it? – sexy. He looked good. But he always looked the same. So exactly what the hell did that mean?
Aloud she said, “So … did you get your envelope from Donna yet?”
Sam checked his desk, suddenly hit by the brainwave. “No. No, I don't think I have.”
“Oh.” Uncharacteristically, C.J. fell silent.
So did Sam, for the most part. “Here's the speech,” he said, handing it to her.
“Thanks.” She smiled softly. “See you later. And don't let Toby get to you too much.”
Sam grinned back. “Do I ever?” She left his office in a haze of perfume that left him dizzy – whether it was her or the fumes, he couldn't tell.
He applied himself furiously to writing his next speech, for the Washington Schoolteachers' Union. It would look good, he reasoned, if he could placate Toby with one of his speeches already written when he came barrelling in.
He was actually almost finished when the knock cam on his door. “Sam!” Toby grumbled, coming inside. “After what you pulled this morning you damn well better have the teachers' speech on my desk pronto.”
“It's almost done, Toby.” Sam didn't blink. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Toby repeated. “You're kidding, right?”
“No.”
“Well, give it to Josh when you're done,” Toby said, irritated that he'd have little or nothing to bite Sam's head off about. “He needs to see it before me.”
“Fine.”
Toby, with nothing else to say, stomped moodily away. Sam couldn't help chuckling to himself. This day was looking up.
But even as he typed, an idea began to burrow into Sam's consciousness. He had to see Josh. Maybe he'd finally take the chance to stand up to his friend. Though they *were* friends, Josh took advantage of it far too often. Well, he'd straighten it out.
He finally finished the speech. Watching it print, he whipped it out of the printer and headed immediately to Josh's office.

Donna shuffled the envelopes one last time. “Perfect,” she murmured. Everyone was matched with the person she'd picked. And no one could complain.
“Donnatella!”
OK, well, one person could complain about anything. “Coming, Josh!” she called in return.
He was in a foul mood. “Where's Sam?” he demanded. “Did he talk to you about our meeting this morning?”
“No, he hasn't. He should be here any minute.”
“Fine. Did you get the EPA reports?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go to the archives on 25-171?”
“No, I'll do it right now.”
“Fine.” As Donna turned to go, Josh unexpectedly looked up from his paperwork. “Donna?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks a lot.”
Donna grinned in response. She couldn't help it; that stupid smirk of his got her every time. “No problem.” She headed off to to the archives.
As soon as she was gone, Josh stood up. He hated doing that to Donna, sending her off to search for a file he wouldn't need for days, but it couldn't be helped.
Stealthily he crept over to his assistant's desk. On top of her papers lay the envelopes, completely unmarked except for a small “DM” to indicate that Donna was the sender. He knew her passion for order, and he'd been wanting to do this all day. Quickly, furtively, he shuffled the envelopes and left them in the same place on Donna's desk. *This,* he thought, *should get interesting.* After all, he reasoned, variety was the spice of life, right?
He got back inside just as Donna returned. “Here's the file,” she said, flipping it onto his desk. “And here's your envelope!” she said, proudly placing it right in the centre of the file. “Don't open it til 7pm tonight. The President will call us all to the Oval Office and we'll open them together. Then we're off for a magical night of dinner and dancing.”
Josh raised his eyebrows. “A bit excited, Donnatella?”
“Well, it's Valentine's Day, why not?” She grinned. Josh, for some unexplained reason, suddenly found breathing difficult.
He smiled back. “I guess. Can you please go find out where the hell is Sam?”
“Right here,” a new voice added. Sam had just turned the corner when he heard his name. “Josh, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About the way you treat me.” Sam set his eyes. He didn't like confrontations, but this one was necessary.
He spoke before he could chicken out. “Josh, just because you have meetings all day every day doesn't mean you have to take that out on me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“About this morning,” Sam answered. “You chewed me out because of my alarm clock.”
Josh recalled. Donna had been yelling at him, Leo had been paging him every five minutes, and he'd just gotten off the phone with Senator Irwin, one of the most argumentative, pompous jerks in the entire government. It had been a hellish morning, but Sam was right. That wasn't an excuse. “You're right,” he said aloud. “And don't think that wasn't a supreme sacrifice for me to admit.”
Sam had to grin. That had gone well. Maybe he should confront people more often. “That's ok, Josh; I just wanted to hear you say it. And I wanted to beg a favour.”
“Oh.” Josh threw up his hands in annoyance. “So you put me through emotional blackmail just to beg a favour.”
“No, I put you through emotional blackmail because you deserve it,” Sam retorted. “And I'm asking a favour because you're my best friend.”
Josh sighed. “All right. Even though I'm heinously behind already, what do you want me to do?”
“Well, it's more of an advice thing, actually.” The idea had popped into Sam's head at the last minute, but he thought it feasible. No one had dealt with more women than Josh Lyman, he of the fan club. Now if he could get advice without telling him exactly who the woman was he was interested in.
        “Oh, so let's hear this advice thing.” Josh seemed open to helping out.
“Well …” Sam was suddenly hit with an attack of hesitation. What if he had to tell Josh? He could visualize the teasing. It'd be exactly what everyone was saying about Donna and Josh.
Still, he went through with it. “Josh,” he began, hands in pockets and scuffing his shoes on the floor, “I was wondering … howdoyouaskoutawoman?”
There! He'd said it! He looked at Josh, whose face seemed to be frozen in his “can-I-help-you” mode. “Josh?” Sam queried. He had a little more confidence now, just saying the words. “I asked, how do you ask out a woman?”
Josh found his voice. “I heard you the first time. I just can't figure out why you're asking.”
Sam's brow furrowed. “Why shouldn't I be asking?”
Josh chuckled. “Well, actually, I think you *should* be asking. I just can't figure out why it took so long.” Realising that comment might sound slightly insensitive, he tried to amend it but only made it worse. “Well, between hitting on Jenny McGarry and 'accidentally' sleeping with a call girl …”
Sam turned away in annoyance. “Jeeeez! One lousy mistake and a guy's branded for life?”
“Well … yeah.” Josh hastened to change the subject back to Sam's problem. “So, Sam, who are you interested in?”
This was the moment Sam had dreaded. “Why?” he hedged.
“Well, different approaches work on different women.”
Josh had a point. Damn it all to hell. “True. But I can't tell you her name.”
“Why?” Josh had a sudden thought. “Sam, please, please, please tell me she's not a call girl.”
“She's not a call girl!” Sam said loudly. Then he mumbled, “She works here.”
“Oh!” Josh clapped his hands together gleefully. “So come on, spill it, or do I start guessing?”
“You can guess til hell freezes over,” Sam said, suddenly emboldened, “but I can't tell you her name.”
“Then how do you expect me to help you?”
Damn it. Josh had another point. Sam sighed. Nothing to do but tell the truth. “She might get mad.”
“What, and you think she'd kick your ass or something?”
“Quite honestly, she might.”
Josh couldn't hold back the giggles. “Sam, there's quite a number of women who could kick your ass.”
“Josh!”
“OK, OK,” Josh amended. “Maybe not a *significant* number.” He paused. “But who could it be?” He stopped again, lost in thought. “Donna?”
“No! No! She's yours, Josh.”
“Does she know that?” Josh smirked. “Who else …. Ainsley?” Sam merely shot him an incredulous look, and Josh halted. “OK, forget I said that. Margaret?” The same reaction was repeated. “OK, forget I said *that.*” Another long pause ensued, til Josh finally spoke. “Sam, you didn't …”
“Didn't what?”
Josh phrased his sentence delicately. “Sam, is the President going to be hunting you down with a shotgun or something?”
“God, no!” Sam shivered at the thought. “Not even if I was drunk, would I do that! Well,” he corrected himself, “maybe if I was drunk. But it's not Abbey!”
“OK.” Josh whistled through his teeth. “Damn, Sam, we're running out of women. The only one I can think of that fits your criteria is -” He broke off, suddenly stunned, as the idea hit him. It couldn't be true. “No.”
“Yes,” Sam said, abashed. He knew, Josh had hit on it.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes!” Sam insisted. He wanted this over with. “I think you've got it, Josh.”
Josh seemed to be trying to find words. Finally, he just spluttered, “C.J.!?!?”
“Sssshhh!” Sam shot his friend a glare. “People could hear!”
Josh paid no attention. “C.J., Sam?” he asked, still in shock. “How C.J.? Why C.J.? How could the two of you possibly get together?”
Sam glared, getting up. This had been a mistake. “Oh, so I'm not good enough for her?”
“No, no! I didn't mean that!” Josh stood and effectively barred the door with his own body. “It's just …” Shooting from the hip, he finished his sentence. “You're just really throwin' me for a loop here, buddy.”
Sam sat back down. “Why?”
“Because … because …” Seeing as it had worked the first time, Josh tried it again. “Because she's everything you're not, Sam.”
“So?” Sam was unimpressed with Josh's logic. “Opposites have never attracted?”
“Not too often, Sam, I gotta tell ya.”
“But how do I ask her out?” Sam would not be deterred. Secretly, though he'd never admit it, Josh was impressed. This was a whole new side of Sam.
“Wow, I really have no clue.” Josh shrugged. “I mean, this is C.J. Cregg. It's not like, someone you just met or something.” His expression brightened a trifle as an idea hit him. “But I know someone who might help you.”
“Really?” Sam brightened as well, back to his usual cheery countenance. “Who?”
“Donnatella!”
Sam's face abruptly plunged back down into the 'fear' regions. “No, Josh, not Donna!” he begged. “She'll ask me everything under the sun! Please!”
Josh took no notice, as Donna appeared in his doorway. “Donna, Sam has some romantic problems.” Donna's eyebrows rose as her boss continued, oblivious to Sam squirming in discomfort. “He's got a crush on C.J., and wants to know how to ask her out.”
“That is so wonderful, Sam!” Donna exclaimed, a bit too loudly for Sam's taste. “You come with me,” she said, physically removing him from his seat. “I'll tell you how a woman likes to be treated. Not like I actually thought you'd need the help.” Josh waved to his friend as he was dragged, shell-shocked, from his seat and out the door.

        The morning dragged on. Sam vainly tried to work while Donna remained stuck to his side. She was actually rather helpful, but while he tried to be productive, she got in the way. Still, he was polite.
C.J. watched Sam try to haggle with Donna about something. It was kind of funny, but she had absolutely not left him alone all day. He was being his usual self, laughing and joking. She wondered what was going on.
She thought more than once about approaching him. Their encounter that morning had left her with a bad feeling. It had been so … stilted. She didn't want their relationship to be stilted.
What *did* she want it to be?
“C.J., you ok?” Cathy asked. Sam's assistant had noticed the press secretary staring off into space. “You look out of it.”
“What? No, I'm fine.” C.J. stood and prepared to walk away.
Cathy wouldn't let it go. “You were staring at Sam. Is everything ok between you two?”
C.J. prayed she wasn't blushing at that moment. “Yeah, fine,” she fudged. “Why?”
“No reason.” Still, Cathy looked calculating, and that made C.J. nervous. “Sam and Donna have been together like, all day, haven't they?” she said, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, they have,” C.J. said, trying not to react. “I wonder what it's about.”
“Search me.” Cathy shrugged. “*She's* sure been enjoying his company, that's for sure.”
The notion hit C.J. full in the pit of the stomach. Donna couldn't … no, it couldn't be. She couldn't have a crush on Sam!
And yet, it was horribly convincing. They had been chummy all day, more so than usual. Donna hadn't left his side. And now … what was she doing? She was putting her arm around his shoulders!
C.J. turned away suddenly. Damn it. She'd lost her chance. She should have said something the night before. And now, Donna was sinking her hooks into Sam. *He'll never get away,* C.J. thought maliciously. *Donna has a way of entrapping men. Look what she's done to Josh.* Aloud she said icily, “Tell Sam to get me the Irish ambassador's briefing when he gets a chance.” Then she turned on her heel and strode away.

After some time, Sam managed to extract himself from Donna for a moment. Vowing revenge on Josh, he immediately headed for his office. He brought Donna's envelope with him.
Accompanied by a severe crisis of conscience, Sam had opened the envelope. He was doubly horrified to read Ainsley's name inside.
He had to get rid of it.
He had resealed it, and now he meant to get rid of it.
Josh wasn't in his office, and Donna was off somewhere doing his filing. The office was empty.
Feeling like a spy, Sam crept in and searched the desk til he had what he wanted. Josh's envelope lay, tossed aside, on top of his computer keyboard.
Carefully, Sam took it and replaced the envelope with his own. What better revenge than to replace Josh's Valentine's Day with a long, drawn-out Ainsley dispute? And possibly get C.J.'s envelope in the process?
In spite of himself, Sam chuckled. He was turning into an evil, nasty person. And he was loving every minute of it.
In that same vein, he opened his new envelope. Thus, he was quite disappointed when he saw Margaret's name written in clear, mocking blue ink.
Damn. Now he'd have to steal someone else's. But there wasn't time now.
He slowly tiptoed back to his office, to start work on his next speech before Donna reappeared.

Josh came strolling back to his desk after lunch in a fantastic mood. Bill 32-643 had been settled. He had successfully fought off Lillienfield's attempts to put the telecomm bill down. And he'd finally told off that bitchy staffer who'd tried to tell him to shut up. Things were good. And now he was staring Donna's envelope in the face.
He wondered whose name was inside. He wondered if he could wait to find out.
Waiting never stood a chance.
Checking the hall for Donna before proceeding, Josh carefully opened the envelope, watchful to rip as little as possible. He got it open in virtually one piece and looked at the card. He recoiled. It said Ainsley.
*Damn it!* Josh thought. How was he going to get out of this one?
Various excuses ran through his head. An illness? No, he was a lousy actor. Work he'd forgotten to do? No, that one would never hold water. Donna knew his schedule better than he did.
Then it hit him. He'd just steal someone else's envelope. Donna might get confused, but she wouldn't be able to tie anything to him. It was the best explanation. And he had to do it now, before he lost his nerve. But whose?
Josh nervously walked down the hall, just canvassing the offices. Sam was working feverishly, no doubt to catch up on time lost. Donna was still at his side, apparently offering dictation help as she advised him on relationships.
Josh had to grin. It really had been a dirty trick, but he hadn't known what to say. And Donna really, probably, *could* help Sam out a bit.
C.J. was likewise working feverishly on something. But Toby's office stood open and empty.
Perfect.
Quick as lightning, Josh slipped inside, looking around. The envelope was lying alone, unobstructed, under Toby's paperweight. Before even thinking, Josh walked in, switched his envelope with Toby's, and walked out.
It was that easy.
And, Josh told himself sternly, he would not open this one. If it wasn't Ainsley, he could deal. He just didn't want his Valentine's Day to be occupied by a leggy blonde Republican that gave him several bad thoughts at once.
Just to safeguard his interests, Josh slipped the envelope into his coat pocket. If anyone else got the same idea that he had, this would foil them.
Now, on to real work. He knocked on C.J.'s door. “C.J., it's me, Josh,” he called. “I have the 2pm briefing.”
“Come in.” Josh was surprised to hear defeat and tiredness in C.J.'s voice. *She must be upset about something,* he thought. *She's never tired. Or at least she doesn't show it.*
He opened the door. “Here it is, Claudia Jean,” he said, setting the file on her desk. Nodding a hello to Gail, C.J.'s fish, Josh asked, “Everything all right?”
“Yeah, fine,” C.J. said, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose. “Just tired. Recuperating from yesterday's excursions.”
“Yeah, that would make sense,” Josh said cautiously. He wanted dirt, but he didn't want to appear to be interrogating her.
As it turned out, he didn't have to. “You know, Josh, there is one thing,” C.J. said. He could feel her expression turn to ice. “Could you possibly extricate your assistant from Sam's office?”
Josh was surprised by the undertone of vehemence in C.J.'s voice. “Sure, C.J.,” he said, a bit perplexed. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” C.J. sighed, irritated. “Just that she hasn't left him alone for the entire day.”
Josh shrugged. Why was she so annoyed about it? “Yeah, well. She's probably got some agenda of her own.” He had to fudge the truth, he reasoned, otherwise Sam's secret would be out.
Still, that only made C.J.'s look blacker. “I don't care, Josh,” she snapped. “Get her out of there.”
Josh could only nod as he headed over to Sam's office.

Later, Toby muttered various obscenities as he roamed the halls looking for Josh. He needed the damn speech, and he needed it now. But Josh was nowhere to be found.
He considered asking C.J., but quickly reconsidered. For a few hours she'd been in a fouler mood than Toby'd ever been in. Every inconsequential thought caused C.J. to snap.
Instead, he'd been forced to roam the halls, looking for Josh. On a whim, though, he'd brought his envelope. After all, Toby thought, why not mix things up a little? Maybe he'd ask Josh for his envelope, just to change things. If he ever *found* Josh.
He happened upon Donna. “Seen your boss?” he asked.
“He has a meeting with Leo soon, you might want to check there.” Donna checked her watch. “Is Sam in his office?”
“As far as I know,” Toby answered. “Donna, is there a reason that you've been stuck to Sam's side today?”
“Ye-es,” Donna hedged. “But I can't tell you.” She headed off down the hall.
Toby watched her go, perplexed. He shook his head and continued down the hall to Leo's office.
He didn't find Josh, but he did find the Chief of Staff. “Leo, seen Josh?” he inquired.
“No, not yet,” Leo answered. “He should be here any minute.”
“I need that speech from him.”
“Well, I'll lean on him.”
“Thanks.” Toby turned to go, then reconsidered. One envelope, he reasoned, was as good as another. “Hey, Leo, can I have your envelope?”
Leo regarded him quizzically. “Why?”
“Why not?” Toby shrugged. “Little variety.”
It wasn't enough for Leo. “Sure you didn't open your envelope and be scared of who you got?” he asked, teasing. He knew half the guys in the West Wing walked in abject fear of Ainsley Hayes, and the other half dreamed of asking her out.
He pondered, but only for a moment. He had nothing to lose. None of the women on that list would cow him in any way. “Sure, what the hell.” He handed his envelope to Toby.
“Thanks.” Toby turned to leave. “And could you please remember to bug Josh?”
“No problem.”

Danny Concannon strolled leisurely past the Secret Service checkpoints in search of the press secretary. He had to find out what was going on. Last night she'd called and broken their date, citing ill health. But she'd looked fine at the briefings, only a bit distracted.
He wanted answers.
Making his way down the hall, Danny tapped twice on C.J.'s office door. An irritated, “Come in,” answered his knocks.
Cautiously poking his head in, he said, “Hey, C.J., it's me.”
“Oh, hi, Danny.” Inwardly C.J. knew her subconscious was kicking and screaming. This was the last thing she needed right now. But what with Donna and Sam, she didn't know whether to break it off or encourage it. And was there anything to encourage?
*Men!* she screamed silently.
Still, she had to say something. “What can I do for you, Danny? And don't go looking for stories. I gave you all everything we have on the Irish ambassador, and anything else is not yet for publication.”
“What makes you think I'm looking for stories?” Danny picked up the fish food and gave Gail a few. “What makes you think I'm not just saying hello to my fish?”
C.J. smirked. “*Your* fish?”
“Okay, *our* fish.”
“Danny, as good company as Gail is, you did not just come to see her. What's up?” If there was going to be a confrontation, she wanted it over with.
“Well … actually it was about you.” Danny took a deep breath. “I just want to know what's going on, C.J.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you cancelled our date because you said you felt bad,” Danny answered, trying to think of a way to get his point across without calling her a liar. “You seem okay, though.”
“It was a sudden thing,” C.J. said, breathing a sigh of annoyance. “It passed this morning, though I'm still a little dizzy. Interrogation over?”
“Yeah. Hey,” Danny said, spreading his arms wide like a criminal caught by the cops. “I'm not interrogating you here. Just curious.”
C.J. took a deep breath. “You're right, Danny. I'm sorry for sounding so snarky. It's been a bad day.”
“Don't worry about it.”
They both fell silent. C.J. racked her brain to say something that would get rid of him, but unfortunately, she kept coming up with the truth. *Danny, I think we should see other people 'cause I have a crush on Sam?* she thought cynically. *Right, like he'd just go quietly!*
Then it hit her right between the eyes: She *did* have a crush on Sam. A big one. A bad one. And Danny, sweet as he was, simply wasn't Sam.
Aloud she said, “Danny, I think we need to talk,” before she could think. Now that she was certain of what she wanted to do, she wanted time to think. But her subconscious wasn't about to grant her that luxury.
“Sure, C.J., what's up.” Danny seemed relieved. Maybe he was more of a mind-reader than she thought.
She had to phrase her words carefully. “Danny, you're a really great guy. I really enjoy being around you.”
“But.” Danny was a sharp individual, and he caught some sort of hidden meaning behind her words.
“But.” That was her tacit agreement that something was going on. “Danny, I've thought a lot about this -” actually, she had – “and I just don't think we should see each other right now.”
His shoulders sagged, but other than that he took it relatively well. “Same reasons you said before, C.J.?” he asked, a remnant of the old shine in his eyes.
“That,” she agreed, “and one more.” She wasn't going to bullshit him, if it was at all possible.
“And that reason would be?”
Her press-secretary skills kicked in at the last minute. “Off the record, Danny.”
“Fine.” That gave it away, however. “You're seeing someone.”
“Yes.” C.J. nodded. No harm fudging the truth a bit. She'd deal with Donna soon enough. “And it's someone you know.”
“He work here?”
C.J. shook her head. Oh, no. That was too much.
Danny understood. “I got you. But hey, if it doesn't work out with this guy – and I *will* find out who it is – call me, ok?” And without another word, he strode away, leaving C.J. with a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach. That had been far too easy.
She was still that way when the President came strolling up to her. “All right, C.J.?” Bartlet asked.
“Fine, sir.” C.J. steadied herself.
“If you're sure.” He shrugged and changed the subject. “Is Sam in his office, by any chance?”
“Yes, sir. He's in there with Donna.” C.J. was even surprised at the amount of vehemence in her voice. *What,* she thought, *is happening to me?*
The President looked at her quizzically. “C.J., are you sure you're all right? Something going on between you and Donna?”
“Oh, no, sir.”
“Well, make sure there isn't.” The President turned away. “I don't like to see my staffers fighting. Also, Donna's the fastest typist in the West Wing, according to Josh, and I'd like her to help you with the four p.m. briefing. There's a lot to cover.”
*Perfect,* C.J. thought sourly. But out loud she merely said, “No problem, Mr. President.”
“Can you go tell Sam to come to the Oval Office while you're getting Donna?” the President asked. “It'd really be a favor to me, C.J.”
“Sure.” C.J. could feel her heart doing jumping jacks in her throat as she headed to Sam's office.
        She heard voices in the hall as she approached. “Sam, soon you can tell everyone,” Donna was saying. “How surprised will they be?”
        “Yeah,” Sam answered happily. “It'll be a relief. Donna, this is all your doing. This will be great.”
        “Anything for you, Sam.” It was so sickening it almost made C.J. gag. Instead she stabilized herself and knocked on the office door. She was bidden to enter, but almost wished she hadn't.
        Inside, Donna sat in Sam's spare chair, hand on his shoulder, as he surfed for statistics on reported abortions for the past year. “Sorry to interrupt,” C.J. said frostily. “But Sam, you're wanted in the Oval Office. And Donna, the President asks that you come with me.”
        Sam and Donna exchanged looks before rising, which pissed C.J. off mightily. Still, she didn't speak until Sam had left and she had Donna as the two women walked back down the hall.

        While Donna dealt with C.J., Sam sat in the Oval Office, alone and bewildered. Where was the President, if he had been summoned here?
        What Sam didn't know was that the President was in his office.
        Bartlet looked around hastily for signs of his Deputy Communications Director. Seeing none, he proceeded. It made him nervous enough doing this without being caught in the act. He really did need to speak to Sam in the Oval Office. He just had to do this first.
        Donna was a nice girl, he told himself. But after he'd opened the envelope and considered the possibility of spending an entire Valentine's Day with her yammering about nothing, he knew what he had to do. The girl talked more often than he did. So he had to get someone else unbeknownst to Donna.
        And hopefully, the President told himself, C.J. and Donna could work out whatever their problem was. That woman had been snippy all morning, and it was very plain that the issue was with Donna. Whatever it was would hopefully be worked out. C.J. was smart enough to know her excuses hadn't convinced him in the slightest.
        He slipped into Sam's office. Even though this was a relatively minor thing, it still gave him the creeps. The Leader of the Free World, perpetrating a theft.
        Oh, well. May as well go through with it.
        He grabbed the envelope, replaced it swiftly with his own, and turned to leave …
        … Running smack into Josh.
        “Josh!” the President breathed. “Please avoid giving me coronaries, at least for the next two – okay, maybe six – years, will you?
        “Sorry, Mr. President,” the Deputy Chief of Staff said contritely. “Just looking for Sam.”
        “He's in the Oval Office.”
        Josh smiled pleasantly, not getting it but not about to cross his boss, either. “And you're not there, sir?”
        “I, uh, had to get something more for the meeting,” the President fudged. “And I was down in the Wing already, so Sam asked me if I'd go get the file.”
        The slant of Josh's eyebrows showed he didn't buy it, but he was far too comfortable in his job to contradict the President. He merely nodded and set off in the direction of his office.
        The President breathed a sigh of relief. Now he really *had* to go meet Sam. That over and done with, he put his new envelope in his pocket and headed off down the hall.

        C.J. had absolutely no words to say as she strode down the hall, Donna struggling to keep up. What could she say to the woman?
        “C.J.,” Donna said, huffing a bit as she tried to keep up, “do we want to add the bit about the Burmese coup?”
        “Sure,” C.J. tossed back over her shoulder. Getting to her office, she yanked the door open. “You can use my computer,” C.J. told Donna tersely. “It's easier than you writing things down that Josh can't even read anyway.”
        Donna's eyes widened at that one. What was *wrong* with her? Still, she didn't want to start a fight, and kept silent.
        C.J. sat down on the other chair and flipped open a file. Rapidly she began to read. “The Burmese leader was taken prisoner approximately ten p.m. Washington time last night, by the head of a gang calling itself the Myanmar Liberation Front, and he …” She trailed off. “Damn. Do you have the dossiers?”
        “I think they're in Sam's office,” Donna said, oblivious to the press secretary's annoyance. “Want me to go ask him to pull them out of his files?”
        “No, Donna, I want you to stay right here!” C.J. snapped. “I'll go get them.” Getting up, she strode for the door.
        However, she was stopped in her tracks by Donna's quiet voice. “C.J., can I ask you something?”
        Breathing a sigh of annoyance, C.J. answered, “What?”
        “What's wrong?” Donna said, innocent face probing C.J.'s for answers. “You've been in a foul mood all day, and I hope it's not something I did.”
C.J. faced the other woman with little or nothing to lose. “Quite frankly, it *was* something you did.”
        “Oh, really?” Donna said, face falling. “I'm sorry. What was it?”
        How to answer? C.J. paused, feeling for words. Finally she just muttered, “Well, if you'd left Sam's side at all today, maybe you'd know.”
        Donna was surprised to say the least. “Hold it for a minute,” she said. “C.J., what exactly is going through your head right now?”
        “Oh, lots of things,” C.J. said, smiling falsely. She'd had it. “Like how I want to say very rude things to you.”
        Donna racked her brains, thinking of what could possibly be wrong. “Did I forget to do something?” she finally asked. “Is it because you needed to talk to Sam about something you-”
        She halted, epiphany overcoming her features. C.J. found herself getting very nervous. What if Donna was right? She had the second –okay, third – biggest mouth in the White House, after Sam himself and Margaret. She'd tell someone, probably Josh, straightaway. C.J. closed her eyes, hearing the teasing now.
        Thus, Donna's next words were something of a relief. “Oh, C.J. Did you and Sam have a fight about something? You could have told me to leave, I would have given you all the time you needed to patch it up.”
        C.J. had to smile wearily. “No, it's not that, Donna.”
        “Then what could it be?” Donna muttered, half to herself.
C.J. opened her mouth for another snarky reply, then thought better of it. Who was she kidding? If Donna and Sam were together, then there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She'd just have to deal with it and get through it. But, she told herself, if they ever got married, she'd jump off a building. Sarcasm of Donna's variety and Sam's optimism were not a good mix. Even though it hurt like hell, she forced herself to smile. “Donna, it's all right,” she said, with a sad grin.
Donna, to put it mildly, was confused. “What?”
C.J. smiled that same sad smile, and kept going. “I really should be offering you my congratulations, I guess.”
        “Cong-rat-u-lations?” Donna echoed haltingly.
“Yeah.” C.J. chuckled once, a short, mirthless sound. “I mean, come on. It *is* rather obvious.”
“What exactly is obvious?” Donna's brow furrowed.
        C.J. sighed. Donna was really going to make her admit it. “The way you two talk,” she finally said. “The way you're not afraid to put your hands on his shoulders and stuff. The way you guys laugh together.” She sighed again. This hurt a lot more than she'd thought it would. “It's really obvious.”
        Donna raised her eyebrows. “And what man-of-my-dreams would I be doing all these things with?”
        C.J. was a little confused now. “Well ... Sam, of course.”
        Donna stared at C.J. for a time, as if she had three heads. She was trying valiantly not to laugh, but she finally lost it. “Sam??!?” Donna finally spluttered, through fits of laughter. “You really, honestly think I'm in love with *Sam?*”
C.J. felt vaguely insulted. “What?”
        Donna calmed down enough to answer. “C.J., he's ... he's Sam!” she explained, waving a hand in dismissal. “He's the kind of person you go to with a minor problem, or to get a pick-me-up when you're in a bad mood. He's a great friend. He's not the type of guy you fall in love with.”
        C.J. lowered her gaze to the ground. She spoke softly. “He's the type of guy *I* fell in love with.” It was time to get over it and admit it to herself.
        Donna paused. “Oh my God.” There was another noticeable pause before she said, “You're kidding, right?”
        “Why does everyone keep asking me that!??!” C.J. snapped. Then, as if remembering the conversation, her tone softened. “No. I'm not kidding.”
        Belatedly, Donna realized the cause of C.J.'s snippiness. “Oh, C.J., seeing us together must have torn your heart out by the roots. I'm sorry.”
        “It's all right, how could you have known?” C.J. said, allowing herself a faint smile. “But all the same, given that this is just a one-sided thing, I should -”
        Donna cut her off. “What did you say?”
        “I said that since this is just an infatuation of sorts, I should just try to -”
        “One-sided?” Donna echoed incredulously. “C.J., are you blind?”
        “What do you mean?”
        As much as Josh had threatened her, Donna knew she had to come clean. Besides, it was getting close to briefing time. “C.J., you know why I was with Sam all day?”
        “Why?”
        “Because he wanted advice,” Donna said matter-of-factly. “Advice on how to ask you out so you'd say yes.”
        C.J. was fully unable to speak for approximately five minutes. What Donna had said filled her with fear, elation and anticipation, but for some reason she felt the strangest sense of peace. It was as if some higher plan had finally been fulfilled. All was right with the world. She liked Sam. And Sam liked her.
        And yet, when she finally spoke, her first thought was calm, cool and professional. “Oh, my God. It's almost briefing time.” And with that, she picked up her briefcase and headed out of the office.
        Donna trailed behind her. “C.J., you're inhuman!” she teased. “Your first thought after you discover an extremely good-looking man who thinks you're sexy is of a press briefing?”
        C.J. stopped in her tracks and turned to face Donna. “Oh, so you think he's extremely good-looking?” This time, however, there was a trace of amusement in her tone.
        “I do,” Donna answered without hesitation. “But really, C.J. …. He's like my older brother.” She paused. “Know what I mean?”
        “Yeah.” C.J. smiled.
        “I'm just sorry you might not wind up with him tonight,” Donna answered. “I mean, I found out about this after I'd given out the envelopes, and of course there's no way to get them back now.”
        Just as quickly as C.J. had felt a giddy jubilation, now she came crashing back down to earth. Damn. Donna was right. She'd have to spend Valentine's Day with someone who wasn't Sam.
        And that thought pissed her off more than she could say.
        What did she ever do to deserve this?

        Sam was asking himself much the same question as he turned his envelope over and over in his hands. Why Margaret? he asked himself. He hadn't discovered his boss's theft, so he still believed he held Margaret as a Valentine's Day date. And that, though she was a nice woman, he could not deal with. Not if it meant C.J. would be off with Josh, or Leo. Or someone else who wasn't him.
        But whose envelope should he steal? Not Josh's, he might wind up with Ainsley again. Leo was in meetings all day in his office. And he wouldn't go near the President's office unless summoned.
        That left Toby.
        Sam closed his laptop, having finished his last speech for the moment, and peered down the hall. Unless he missed his guess, Toby would be watching C.J. deliver the four pm briefing. He hoped he was right.
        Feeling more and more like a criminal, Sam slunk down to Toby's office. The door was open, but the envelope was nowhere in sight. Damn! Now he'd have to look for it, and he wasn't sure how much time he had.
        Well, he'd have less time if he sat here thinking about it. Slowly, cautiously, like an archaeologist in a tomb, Sam began to search. There was paper everywhere, and it was difficult to see the desk, let alone a tiny white envelope.
        Still, he persevered. He carefully set piles of paper aside as he searched, with a precise touch that his critics would have called inhuman. Or anal-retentive, whichever they thought of first. But where in hell was the envelope?
        Then, he had it. Sam moved swiftly to Toby's closed laptop and opened it. Inside, mocking him, was that white envelope.
        Sam kicked himself for not thinking of it first. Whenever Toby wanted to hide something flat, he put it there. The whole Wing knew, but Toby didn't know that they knew. Well, they certainly didn't know if he knew they knew. But …
        *My God,* Sam thought. *I'm even rambling mentally now.* He crept out of Toby's office and back to his own, hoping for the best. He wondered whose name was in the envelope he now held and wasn't going to open. Obviously it wasn't Margaret. But who else?
        Pondering his options, Sam gloomily decided it could be anyone. Even Ainsley's envelope could have made its way to Toby, if Josh had been of the same mind Sam had been. But as it stood, there was only a 1 in 4 chance that the name he now held was C.J. Cregg.
        Damn.
        Still, Sam decided, he'd hope for the best. Maybe he'd get Donna. She was a friend, and they could talk all night about their unrequited loves. There was another thing the whole Wing was aware of. Except for Josh, of course.
        Heading down to his office, he noticed the people start to drift back into theirs from the press room. He could hear Toby congratulating C.J. on how well she had handled some issue. C.J., of course, was being her usual modest self, saying it was no big deal.
        Sam smiled. That was one of the things he appreciated most about her. Still, it was also one of her greatest faults. She needed the credit she deserved, and the confidence she deserved. It wasn't right that she should toil in the background.
        He just hoped he got the chance to tell her that himself.
        Just then that hope was answered as C.J. herself came up to him. “Hey, Sam.”
        “Hi.” Sam grinned warmly at her, hoping she'd get the message. He didn't know why she'd been so snippy all day, but it seemed to have worn off.
        She understood. “Sam, I just wanted to apologise to you for today,” C.J. said, looking contrite. “I've been an evil bitch all day, and I'm sorry. I've already apologised to Donna.”
        “Okay,” Sam answered, smiling at her. “No problem, it's over and done with.”
        C.J. debated for a moment, then finally admitted it. “It really was a stupid reason to be upset,” she said, smiling back at him ruefully.
        “What was it, if I can ask?”
        What the hell. “I thought you and Donna were together,” C.J. said guiltily. “I mean, *together* together.”
        Sam stared at her for a moment, then couldn't restrain the snickering that came to the surface. “C.J., that's incredible.” The thought hit him then, however, *Why* would she bother to get upset? Better play it carefully.
        “Yeah, Donna told me that too,” C.J. said. “She said you guys were like brother and sister, rather than boyfriend and girlfriend.”
        “That's pretty much it. Besides,” Sam lowered his voice conspiratorially, “the whole Wing knows she's in love with Josh.”
        “Obviously.”
        “I help her with that.”
        “Really?” C.J. stared fondly at him. Yet another virtue to add to the man's list. Damn, he was cute.
        “Yeah,” Sam shrugged, “it's the least I can do.”
        C.J. would later say it was that that pushed her to say it. “Sam, whatever happens, have a happy Valentine's Day.” Her tone was downcast, however, and defeated.
        “You too, C.J.,” Sam answered. Under his breath he mumbled, “Even if it isn't with me.”
        Unfortunately for Sam, C.J. had excellent hearing, and she'd had enough surprises for the day. “What did you say, Sam?” she asked, her face growing taut with amazement.
        “I said …” Sam took a deep breath. Here came everything Donna had told him to say. This was his chance.
        And it all went out the window. “I said have a great Valentine's Day, even if it isn't with me,” Sam finished in a rush. “I mean, I'm sure you'll have a great time with whoever you wind up with, and you'll -”
        C.J. cut him off, with an affectionate, sad smile on her face. “Sam, that's one of the nicest, most selfless things anyone's ever said to me.” She faced him, a small smile playing on the corners of her mouth. “I had no idea, quite honestly, how you felt, until Donna felt compelled to tell me.”
        “She what!” Sam exclaimed. “How could-”
        “Sam!” C.J. stopped him. “It was my fault; I pressured her. But she told me, and I realised that you were pretty special to do all that for me.” The shit-eating grin that he found so attractive was out in full force, and it sent his various internal organs flipping in different directions. “That takes determination and guts.”
        “Well …” Sam trailed off, his heart in his throat. “I could learn a lot from you in that department.”
        They stood in the hallway, facing each other, not wanting to make a big production out of it. And yet it was momentous for both of them. Sam finally realised that all is fair in love and war, and C.J. realised that maybe opening up wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Not if it got her this.
        Finally, after eons, they broke their stare. “I have to go finish up,” C.J. said. “I'll see you in a couple hours.”
        “Right.” They both moved to go their separate ways, and yet something brought them back together. Sam's arms automatically moved around C.J.'s waist as he brought her in close to him, and her lips met his with a surprising gentleness. It only lasted a second or two, and yet Sam happily, that he knew there *would* be a next time.
        It ended abruptly. Sam felt the tingles march outward from his lips to crawl down his back and make him dizzy. This was a special thing, and she was a special woman. “Good luck with the briefing,” he said softly.
        “I'll see you later.” C.J. put all her warmth into her smile as she turned off down the hall.

        Seven o'clock couldn't come fast enough, just to get it over with. Sam kept staring at the clock, willing the hands to keep turning. The speeches came and went monotonously, and yet Toby never once complained. At six-forty, he stuck his head in the door. “Sam?”
        Sam shook himself out of his latest fog. “Yeah, Toby?”
        “Are you all right?”
        “Yeah, fine. Why?”
        “Because of your writing.”
        Sam sighed. “I knew you'd complain about it all at once instead of five times during the day.” He extricated himself from his chair with some difficulty, and stood to face his boss. “What's the most wrong?”
        “That's just it, Sam,” Toby said, a strange look on his face. “There really isn't anything fundamentally wrong with these.”
        “What?!” Sam's brow furrowed. “Toby, are *you* okay?”
        Toby ignored his underling. “It's bizarre. These speeches are the right length, touch on things in good order … you even added action verbs. And this language! It's positively … economical!”
        Sam reviewed the work he had done in a mental fog. They were definitely not his usual touch. But if they satisfied Toby … Damn, *everything* was starting to go his way.
        “Sam, are these your speeches?” Toby asked abruptly.
        “Of course they're my speeches!” Sam exclaimed, hurt that Toby would even insinuate a thing like that.
        “Well, you didn't have any help?”
        “No!” What the hell was he trying to prove?
        “Well, Sam …” Toby stopped, unsure of how to phrase this. “They just … it sounds like something C.J. said, that's all.”
        Sam stared at him. Impulsively he began to laugh. “Oh, God, Toby,” he said through giggles, “if you knew the half of what's happened today, you'd get why I find that hilarious.”
        Toby could only stare at his deputy. Finally, he muttered something along the lines of, “Okay, Sam, that's great,” and walked out of the office.
        Sam spent the rest of the time pacing and debating how he'd handle each perspective date. Donna? Talk all night about their various crushes – at least now, he couldn't say his was unrequited love. Ainsley? Not speak unless spoken to, or unless he felt a sudden yearning need for her to babble on longer than he'd ever been guilty of. Margaret? Ditto. The First Lady? Avoid annoying her on any topic whatsoever. Probably just agree with everything she said. And C.J.?
        Well, he'd play that one by ear.
        As he paced, the minutes and seconds started to blur. Slowly, time passed until it was the last thing on his mind …

        It was 7:10. Donna checked her own timepiece impatiently as she waited for Josh and Sam. “Where could they be?” she mused.
        C.J. spoke up. “You know Josh's watch sucks, Donna. And as for Sam, he's probably tied up with something.” *Or he might just want to avoid this,* she thought, *as I do.*
        “Well, I'll wait two minutes longer,” Donna announced. Everyone else was congregated in the Oval Office, waiting patiently for the wayward staffers and looking pleasantly excited.
        At the last possible minute, Josh rushed in. “Sorry everyone, Senator Abrams kept me on the phone.” He addressed his assistant as an afterthought. “Don't even start with me, Donnatella, I know my watch sucks.” He looked around. “Where's Sam?”
        “We were wondering the same thing,” Abbey Bartlet answered.
        “Well, ma'am, I don't know,” Josh answered. “Has anyone tried to call him?”
        “Oh, hell, don't bother,” Leo said. “Let's just do this, and whoever's left is with Sam.”
        “All right,” Donna said. “If that's all right with everyone else.” Assorted yeses filled the room. “Then let's start,” she announced, smiling. “Mr. President, why don't you go first?”
        “All right.” The President tore into his envelope, hoping for the best. Seeing the name, he smiled. “Margaret, it seems we are together for Valentine's Day.”
        “It's an honor, Mr. President.” Margaret grinned, but said no more. She was quite conscious of the teasing-threatening look the First Lady was shooting her way.
        Toby went next. “Donna.”
        Josh let out an inward sigh of relief. Spending a Valentine's Day with Donna would have been more than he could handle. He might accidentally have told her the truth.
        Donna was smiling. She could easily handle Toby, and best of all she wouldn't have to watch her tongue, like she would have with her boss. “Leo, care to go next?”
        “Certainly.” Leo ripped open the envelope and revealed Ainsley's name.
        Josh was smiling inside. No Ainsley for him, and no Ainsley for Sam. His friend was one step closer to C.J. and a great Valentine's Day. If *he* didn't have C.J.
        Just as that thought entered his mind, Sam opened the door and ambled in. “Sorry I'm late, everyone.” He held up his envelope. “Had to find this.”
        C.J. bit back a grin. “No problem,” Donna said. “Josh was just going.”
        “All right.” Josh tore open the envelope. Upon reading what was inside, a look of utter happiness tore across his face. Still, he quickly suppressed it and mockingly bowed low to the First Lady. “Mrs. Bartlet, I've drawn your name as a dinner partner on this lovely night.”
        Abbey smiled. “Such a gentleman, Josh.”
        “Yes, let it stay that way,” the President said, teasingly roguish grin on his face. “Just remember two things, Josh. She's my wife, and the 82^nd Airborne works for me.”
        “Yes, sir.” Josh was grinning. He wanted to see his friend's reaction as he opened his envelope. This was going to be good.
        Donna had also realised what was happening. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as she watched Sam begin to struggle with the envelope.
        C.J. hadn't been keeping track of everyone's matchups. She'd just waited until one of the guys crossed to her side, ready to start her Valentine's Day and her night of having to hopelessly watch her tongue lest she let something slip. But suddenly the picture in front of her registered: everyone was paired already except Sam.
        No, she couldn't be that lucky. Could she?
        Sam, uninterested, was opening his envelope, ready to read Donna's name, or Ainsley's name. Thus, he was completely shocked when he saw the familiar slashing penmanship, and the letters C.J. on the paper in front of him.
        His average cheerful, happy-go-lucky grin broke through the sour expression. Still, this time there was something extra in it. “Who do you have, Sam?” Josh asked, teasing.
        Sam didn't answer, instead crossing to C.J.'s side. “It looks like we'll be spending Valentine's Day together after all,” he said to her, eyes lighting up as hers did the same.
        C.J. laughed. She could be this lucky, after all. “Yeah, I guess so.”
        He put an arm around her shoulders. “Just do me a favor.”
        “What?” C.J. asked, not caring if the President and entire Senior Staff was watching them.
        Sam laughed wickedly. “Don't wear heels. It makes my job difficult, and I don't like to stretch.”
        The significance of what he said was absorbed by everyone in the room. Josh and Donna laughed, watching their friends. Leo, Margaret and Ainsley merely gaped, astonished. Abbey smiled fondly. The President addressed them both. “Sam, C.J., does this mean what I think it means?”
        “Yes, sir,” Sam said. “It means C.J.'s agreed to go out with me.”
        “Hey!” C.J. joked. “I haven't agreed yet, Sam!”
        The room broke up. “But are you two ready to face the press problems that will inevitably occur here?” the President persisted. Smiling, he said, “Not that I'm not happy for you two. It's just …”
        C.J. addressed her boss. “Sir, it's not as if we're getting married or something. It's just a date – and now I *am* agreeing,” she said to Sam, who grinned and turned pink. “I think we can stand by our policy of not commenting on White House staffers' personal lives, and we'll be fine.”
        The President nodded, once. “Well, then, I wish you all the best. And Sam, I wish you good luck. You'll need it.”
        The room broke up again, with Sam turning even pinker and mumbling, “Thank you, sir.” The couples broke up to go get ready for dinner.
        Still, Sam hung back. “You were serious, what you said to the President back there.”
        “Of course I was,” C.J. said, taking his hand as they strolled to the parking lot. “What, you think we shouldn't go out?”
        “No, no,” Sam said hastily, smiling at her. “It's just that you made me think. This is just a first step.”
        “Right,” C.J. answered. “This is a baby step. It's not a flying leap across a canyon.”
        “Yeah.” Sam paused before answering. “So, just one baby step at a time, right?”
        “Right.” C.J. unlocked her car, which was parked a few spaces away from Sam's. “So, see you in about an hour?” she asked.
        “I was told 8:30 at Chez Louis,” Sam answered.
        “Okay.” C.J. couldn't stop smiling. She really had caught Sam's happy bug, she told herself. “I can't wait. For more than one reason, this will be a great night.”
        “What's the other reason?”
        “The food, of course.” C.J. felt her stomach growl in anticipation. “We have to share a plate of escargots when we get there. They're incredible, and I can't finish one by myself.”
        “C.J.!” Sam whined. He chuckled, looking her full in the face. “I'm not eating snails, I'm sorry.”
        “Oh, try 'em, you big baby.”
        “Why should I?”
        “Because I ask you to, nicely.”
        “Nicely, right. You *told* me.”
        “*Told* you? Sam, please …”
        Sam couldn't resist. “C.J., what have I said about whining to me?” He ducked her joking attempted slap, got into his car and drove home, chuckling the whole way. It really didn't get any better than this, he thought as he unlocked his door, about to go in search of his tux. *It really doesn't,* he thought. *Or does it?*
        Well, at least he and C.J. could try and find out.

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