At around 1:48, POTUS came by and said, "Sam, I thought that I said you had to be out of here by now. You can't miss this."

Toby looked at first his deputy then at POTUS then back at Sam. "You can't miss what?"

"I'm sending Sam to go somewhere. And you don't need to know where, Tobias, so don't try to bully Sam when he gets back," the President said with *that* tone of voice.

"Oh, of course, Sir." Toby turned to Sam. "Samuel."

Sam quickly jumped up from his chair, grabbed his coat, and brushed by his commander-in-chief murmuring, "Thanks," as he did so. He then met Dr. Bartlet outside of her office. He didn't remember much about getting to the hospital except that it was quiet. His mind was full of thoughts, but he couldn't *think* at the same time. But he could feel. And he wasn't sure that was such a good idea right now.

Hodgkin's Disease.

Cancer.

No one in his family had ever had cancer before. Well, not that he could remember. He would have to find out.

He remembered getting out of the car, going into the elevator and arriving at Alcott's office. He remembered going inside and sitting down. But he couldn't remain seated, he had to pace. Something was forcing him to pace and he couldn't slow down, he couldn't stop.

FLOTUS must think that he was nuts.

Actually, that was far from her mind. Abigail had to refer patients to oncologists when she suspected cancer, and had remained as a consult for those same patients. While many had survived, some had died and she hated that. The feeling of helplessness, the loss-of-control, not only seeing the patient in such pain but their family as well. She had been glad that she hadn't had to experience that herself.

But she was about to now. Her only determination was not to lose Sam to this disease, and for her and Jed to always be there for him. She knew that the rest of the senior staff would.

Abbey saw Sam pacing, as did her secret service point-man. Sam had a tendency of doing that when he was nervous, and in some ways it was endearing. But right now, it was getting to be annoying. However she understood. The pacing was part of the way that Sam tried to cope, and he needed that mechanism now.

The door finally opened. "Mr. Seaborn, Dr. Bartlet," Dr. Alcott greeted as he came inside.

"Hello, Mike," returned Abbey as Sam finally sat down.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come today, Mr. Seaborn, but it's good that you have," Mike began with a wry smile. "I have all the results here and it's time to discuss them."

That was when Sam, for the most part, went blank. He only heard bits and pieces.

Stage 2.

Neck. Underarm. Diaphragm.

Second opinion.

"What?!?" interrupted Sam, now fully focused. "What do you mean, get a second opinion. Why?"

The two medical doctors smiled at this. "For one thing, it's something that most oncologists recommend. There is such thing as 'false positives.' I wouldn't want to treat you for something that you may not have," Mike said.

"But aren't you're one of the best here? You rarely make mistakes, right?" Sam continued.

"Yes," he confirmed, "But there's a first time for everything. And it also not only covers you, but also me. I hear that you're a pretty good lawyer, and I really don't need to face a malpractice suit. But for me, it's policy. I really recommend getting another opinion."

Sam turned to Abbey. "I agree," she began, "In fact, Mike set you up with someone else right now."

"Right...now?" Abbey nodded. "But Toby..."

"Toby's a big boy and he can finish whatever the two of you were working on himself. He'll even probably add a verb or two."

"That's not very comforting," Sam muttered.

Abbey shook her head in mild amusement. "Who's the consult?"

"Brad Nichols. He's new here, but he's good. Better than me, in fact."

"Where did he transfer from?"

"UCLA. His wife is a professor of political science who was offered a position at Georgetown. From what I hear, she's really good."

"Has he had a chance to go over the results?"

"Yep," Alcott confirmed. "He ought to be here soon."

"Would that mean more tests? Seeing another doctor, I mean?" asked Sam, trying to get some control.

"Not necessarily," the oncologist replied. "We put you through every test that was necessary and they seemed pretty clean. If Dr. Nichols thinks that you should have to undergo one or two more, then you will have to. But trust me, Mr. Seaborn, it's for your own good." Sam still seemed dubious.

Abbey and Mike Alcott spoke more about the results and Sam tried to focus on what they were saying, but couldn't understand them. 'I need a medical dictionary and a tape recorder to know what they're saying,' Sam thought as he shifted in his chair. He then heard a door open, with a, "Sorry I'm late. My son slid a Pop Tart into the DVD player, bunged it up, and I had to deal with the bill."

"You're forgiven this time," replied Mike, as he got up and motioned for the oncologist to grab a chair. "This here is Sam Seaborn and his friend Dr. Abigail Bartlet."

Dr. Nichols shook their hands then sat down. "Well, I looked over the results and they look pretty clean," he began getting down to business, "But I do want to order a bone marrow biopsy. According to one of your results you're anemic and have been getting fevers. I know that Dr. Alcott knew what the results would be and thought that the one biopsy would probably be enough. But he also didn't know about the anemia before he performed the biopsy, as those results came in later. A lot later."

"Wasn't it part of the original tests? The one for anemia?" Sam asked, trying to gain some control--again--over the situation.

"Unfortunately, due to a screw-up, half of the lab was on vacation, so there was a back-log. But it's fully up and running now," Nichols assured the group. "Mr. Seaborn, I would recommend this test as it would confirm if the disease is present in your bone marrow or not."

"You mean that it's in more than 3 places?" Sam blurted out

"Unfortunately, it seems like that. This biopsy is only recommended if a patient is found to be anemic, and your test results do show that."

"That would make the disease stage 4, then, wouldn't it," noted Abbey.

Nichols looked her straight in the eye. "Yes, it would."

"When do you want it done?" Abbey asked.

"We can do it in my examining room right now, if you want." Sam winced. "I know that it's painful, but it has to be done, Mr. Seaborn. On the plus side, it would mean not going into the OR and putting you under."

"Okay," Sam agreed as he felt all control leaving him. Well, that and the fact that the First Lady would make sure he would get it, even if he had been kicking and screaming, though he had been raised better that way.

Sam reluctantly got up to follow Dr. Nichols out of the office, followed by Abbey, Dr. Alcott and the secret service. The group walked down the hall to another office, then into an examination room. Nichols, Alcott, Sam and Abbey went into the examining room.

"Take off your pants, please," Nichols requested as he busied about.

"Excuse me?"

"Sam, you have to take off your pants for the biopsy. Dr. Nichols needs to freeze the area where he intends to take the marrow from," Abbey explained patiently.

"I, um, realise that, Ma'am. I, ah, well..."

Abbey took the hint. "I am a doctor Sam, and have seen people naked before." Sam blushed. "However, I'll be outside in the waiting room, okay?"

"Thank-you," Sam breathed in a sigh of relief.

Abbey smiled at Nichols then left. It was only then that Sam did what the oncologist ordered to do, then got onto the examination table.

"There," Brad announced as he injected the freezing agent into Sam. "We'll let that do it's job before proceeding."

"When would I get the results back?" Sam asked, feeling the spot where the needle had been.

"On Monday, hopefully. I'm putting a rush job on this one."

"Because of who I am?"

"Partially," the doctor admitted.

"Listen," Sam began as he shifted to see Nichols going through a drawer, "I don't want you to do a rush job on this if you don't do it to other patients."

Brad stopped and looked at him in wonderment. "Why? Most patients would love that."

"Well, I'm not most patients. I also find it deplorable that you would put me before someone else who may need it more, just because of my job."

Brad Nichols smiled. "Well, well, well. A politician with ethics. That certainly is original."

Sam sighed. "Listen, I'm not saying this as a publicity stunt or anything like that, but doctor, the people I work with--especially the President and senior staff, are all ethical people."

"Makes me glad that I voted for him, then," Nichols commented. "And for the record, I'm also rushing this because I don't like it when the Hodgkin's is in a possible stage 4. It tends to make me a bit antsy."

"So, you would do this for other people then, in this situation," Sam tried to determine.

"You got it."

"Oh, okay then." Sam then saw the needle that Dr. Nichols had been preparing. The very *long* needle. "You're ah, not going to stick that into me, are you?"

"Don't tell me that you're afraid of needles."

"No," Sam rushed out. "I just really hate them."

"Well, unfortunately, Mr. Seaborn, you'll be seeing a lot more of these before the year is up."

"But it's January," the Deputy Director of Communications protested.

"Well, you have another 12 months to look forward to this," came the glib reply.

"You're from California, alright," Sam murmured as he saw the long needle approach him.