He was a master of the office all-nighter. Leo caught him once and he'd been more careful after that to be sure he was awake before anyone else hit the Wing for the morning. The stash of fresh clothing in his office helped the illusion that he'd gone home. Sam smiled to himself as he wondered if he should get the locker room attendants bribes to keep the secret that he spent more time there than they did during most weeks.

He showered and changed by the time the first signs of life appeared in the Communications Bullpen. Ginger appeared and began sorting the mail. She'd learned long ago that in the early morning hours, Sam was rarely talkative. Their silent acknowledgments would progress to civil morning greetings and business once he'd consumed several cups of the coffee she made within minutes of each morning's arrival.

Sam used the early morning lull to prepare for the upcoming day. That lull lasted exactly five minutes longer, then Toby swung around the corner into his office in full indignant mode.

"Remind me again why we are rehashing the President's family ties to teaching in this speech you just wrote. His story of the one room, ---excuse me--- two room school house that his grandmother or whoever taught in, is older than the jokes he uses. People don't want to hear it again."

"If we don't put it in there, he'll do it himself. Better that it's the short version."

"Can't we just talk him out of it?"

"And just how successful have we been at that the last fifty times we've tried? I'm trying to go with the flow here, cause I'm tired of getting hit by the waves."

Toby opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Sam did a double-take. A quiet Toby usually meant agreement. He hadn't expected an easy victory on the point.

"You're from California. You like waves." Toby couldn't resist a small smile.

"Didn't bring a surfboard with me, so, as you know, I get smacked around a lot."

Toby paused a moment. That was actually true, but Sam sounded more bitter about it than usual. Unfortunately, they needed his head together, so they were not going to have that discussion now. Toby dropped it.

"Yeah. Okay. The rest is fine. I'll drop it off for him now."

Sam looked at him closely. Toby was being uncharacteristically agreeable.

"Why are you going so easy with this? Are you expecting bigger waves over something else?"

Toby almost walked out without answering, but the look in Sam's eyes told him he knew something was wrong.

"I'm expecting a tsunami. That's all I can tell you for now."

Sam tried to ask him more, but Toby was gone.

Sam had a few quiet moments before another knock sounded on his door. He looked up in surprise to see the First Lady leaning on his door frame.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bartlet."

"Sam, I'm sorry to bother you so early. I need your help with something."

"Of course." Sam cleared the books from a chair so she could sit down.

"I have a speech to give to a group affiliated with the Women's Bar Association. My own team has given me something I'm embarrassed to read aloud in the shower. I need a lawyer to help with it. Not one member of my team has ever practiced law, so all I've got now is fluff which sounds a bit condescending to female lawyers, including a few bad fashion tips. Needless to say--"

"--You can't give that speech."

"Exactly. I hoped to get help from Ainsley Hayes, but she's out of town."

Sam took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face. He really didn't need any more projects at the moment. And a second choice to the Blonde Republican. His day looked bad already. "I'm happy to help."

"Thank you. I knew I could count on you. Here's the draft my crew choked out. I'll need a new draft tomorrow."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sam smiled again and watched her leave.

The First Lady was, at least, gracious about saddling him with yet another project. He added the folder to the stack in his box and turned back to his first project.

A moment later a pink blur created a faint breeze in his door and CJ buzzed in and deposited herself in his chair and a large box of paper on his desk.

"Okay, I'm ready. I brought the stuff."

"What stuff?"

"You know, the stuff you said you help me with."

"I really don't know. Remind me." His brows lifted in question.

"The speech for my college. I'm giving the commencement address this weekend. You said you'd help me."

Sam vaguely remembered that he told her he'd be happy to read it over for her. Somehow, he thought that was next month. This was really getting funny in a sick sort of way. Perhaps Mrs. Sanders from the file room would pop in next to remind him he'd promised to write her a speech for the PTA.

"It's really this weekend?"

"Yes."

"Okay, what have you got so far?"

"Nothing. This is just all my college papers and the latest newsletters."

"Have you written anything?" Sam tried not to sound as exasperated as he felt. He was really tired of writing speeches for everyone.

"Well, no. I thought you'd be able to zip something together for me that would really wow them."

"CJ, you are an extremely good public speaker. I'll bet you've written hundreds of speeches."

She settled deeper into the chair. "I know. I'm just afraid I'll choke on this one and I really don't want to look stupid in an official capacity."

Sam couldn't help but smile at that. Whenever she gave in and admitted insecurities, he was lost. She was one of the strongest women he'd ever known, and she rarely felt comfortable actually asking openly for help from any of them. He guessed that was why she hadn't gone to Toby with this request.

"Okay. Leave the box. Put together some talking points for me to put in there, maybe a few fond memory stories and such."

"Thanks, Spanky."

"You're welcome Ms. Flamingo. And may I say you look fetching in that pink suit."

She stopped so quickly on her way out the door she almost jerked. "Oh, God. I forgot. I thought I put all the pink stuff away. If I get hit with that all day, I'm gonna kill someone." CJ left his office and smacked a snickering Toby in the arm on her way out.

"So now you have to do the Flamingo's triumphant return to the alma mater speech?"

"Yes, as well as the one Mrs. Bartlet just dumped on me"

Toby looked up from his perch at the door. "What's she got you doing?"

"Something for the Women's Bar. Ainsley was her first choice, even." Sam grumbled and gestured in frustration at his overcrowded desk.

"Since when are you an expert on what women, especially women lawyers, want to hear?

"Never that I know of. I'm gonna wear gloves when I write it so no one hunts me down."

"What?"

"I'm wearing gloves so my fingerprints aren't on it."

"Yeah. Just make sure you the important projects done first. And keep some time clear for anything that comes up." Toby tossed the comment over his shoulder and veered back into the hallway.

Sam stared expectantly at his door for a moment before he dared to go back to work, contemplating simply locking it in a token effort to avoid further bad news.

----Twelve hours later

Sam pulled his hand back slowly. He examined the plaster dust on his knuckles with clinical detachment. Then he looked up at the rather neat hole in the wall of his office.

He hadn't put his hand through a wall for years. It actually felt good. It felt good to lose some of the pain swirling in his mind to the pain he now felt flowing from his hand. It was a senseless thing. But most things done in the true panic of emotion were senseless. They were meant to stop the painful feelings. He knew that. He didn't care.

He turned around to see CJ looking at him from the doorway. She had a haunted look on her face. He thought she would simply turn and go away. She did go away, but only for a moment. She returned with a towel and cleaned the blood off his hand.

He stared at her with puzzlement for a moment, then looked away. He hadn't meant for anyone to see him now. She had. And she wasn't running away. She finished cleaning his hand and stepped back, looking at him again. She wanted an explanation.

Sam raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm really tired of people not telling me things." She frowned for a moment but easily realized that he meant Toby.

"It wasn't intentional. No one knew."

"Toby knew. He knew and he never told me."

"He didn't tell anyone. He says he really didn't know for sure until it broke."

"Yeah, it 'broke' all right. It smashed everything in sight. Why did he think it wouldn't?"

"Speaking of broken, how's your hand?"

"It's not broken." He flexed his hand for her to observe.

"Why did Toby do this?"

"I'm gonna say he really wished it wouldn't happen . I'd also venture a guess that there's likely a hole in the wall of Leo's office right now. God only knows what Josh is doing."

Sam's head snapped up at that last comment. "Josh will be freaked by this. You know that. It's just the thing that really hits him. Has anybody checked on him?"

She shook her head and brushed the hair from her face. "No. Let's go."

He took a deep breath and followed her out of the office.

They found Josh sitting at his desk. Donna, for once, had gone home at a reasonable hour and wasn't there to hover over him.

"Hey." Sam said from the door.

"Hey." Josh looked up. His eyes looked tired but clear.

"Hell of a day, huh?" CJ flopped into the closest chair and watched the men.

"Yeah. But then, I didn't wake up this morning planning to deal with an act of bioterrorism and global stupidity on the part of people we trust."

"None of us did. What's Leo doing?"

"He's on the phone with the people from Fort Detrick."

"And Toby?"

"I don't know. " Josh started upright in his chair when his phone rang.

"Yeah." Josh bellowed into the receiver.

He listened for a moment then hung up. "Leo wants us in the Oval in five minutes."

"Here we go." CJ said softly, and headed out the door.

CJ, Sam and Josh walked together down the hall to the Oval. Dark halls marked it as night in the West Wing, but none of them doubted that even the full light of day would chase away the fear they faced.

Leo sat in his usual spot. Toby paced behind him.

"Sam, what the hell happened to your hand?" A single dot of blood soaked the neatly wrapped bandage on his hand. Leo's voice was firm and did not betray the fatigue in his eyes.

"I hit it on something."

"You're OK?"

"Yes. I'll get the wall fixed."

Leo looked up at him carefully. "Thank you." Everyone in the room understood that there was more to the comment. He really meant 'thanks for just telling me you were pissed and put your hand through a wall, and that you're not hiding some battle with PTSD.'

Josh stood next to Sam and watched the interchange. The moment broke when Bartlet entered the room.

"Well, kids, it seems we have some problems to deal with. Toby, we'll start with the call you got last night."

Toby snapped his head up at the mention of his name and dropped into a chair.

"A friend of mine called me to give me the heads up about a potential security breach within the bioweapons section."

"This friend have a name, Toby?" Leo tapped his pen on the binder in front of him.

"I'm guessing that you have all that in the brief from the CIA that's right in front of you, Leo. But to answer the question you're really asking, let me say that he only gave me a heads up for potential disaster. It wasn't expected to go as far as it did."

Josh shook his head in confusion. "And why would your friend think you should be on the first need to know list about a bioweapons disaster. Do you have a secret life in intelligence that we don't know about?"

"No. He just remembers a discussion we had many years ago about a certain CIA director forced to fall on his sword to protect the President and allow plausible deniability of a stupid plan to overthrow the leader of this little place called Cuba. The President signed off on the current research plans and could be held ultimately responsible."

CJ joined the men shaking their heads. "How in all the ways the skies are blue can the President be held accountable for that?"

Leo answered her directly. "He is ultimately responsible for all the actions of the appointed agents and agencies of the government. There's no piece of paper that he signed directly, but that's the nature of the power chain."

"It's a pretty big stretch, but legally, there is some validity." Sam addressed them confidently. They listened when he spoke in this tone. He was the youngest politician, but the best of their legal minds. And the fact that he understood the ramifications was a big part of the reason there was a hole in the wall of his office.

Toby broke in again. "But it's a ridiculous stretch. Except for the fact that a few key members at the Agency and the Department of Defense hold a grudge against this White House. They see it as a chance to spin it to their advantage--"

CJ interrupted. "-- As the person whose gonna be in front while we spin our own plates on sticks, I need a little more information about what the hell actually is happening."

Leo motioned for Josh to explain.

"What we know so far is that a purposefully mutated strain of anthrax has been stolen from a lab at Fort Detrick. This is not an easy task. The virus is kept in a strict containment environment with high level security and controlled access. This was definitely an inside job. Before you ask, I don't know why we play with this stuff. It's supposedly to allow us to counter terrorism by other countries--"

"--It sounds stupid and dangerous." CJ interjected.

--our chief concerns are that the people who stole it plan to release it in an act of terrorism, and that they plan to release the news of its existence in an attempt to discredit the military and government research facilities and use it for political gain."

Toby stood and interrupted Josh again. "What we're really afraid of is that these monsters will release it in a populated area. By conservative estimates, it could kill millions, depending on the technical knowledge of the people who have it."

Sam joined Toby in his pacing. "What if they just want people to know that it can be stolen and that it poses a threat to national security to have this kind of research going on?"

Toby stood in front of Sam. "Are you engaging in wide speculation, or does this have something to do with the call you took from your 'friend' at the CIA. The call that that you took three minutes before you put your hand through the wall."

Sam held Toby's eyes. "Back off. You don't know what you're talking about."

The shocked quiet of the room broke with the President's quiet command. "Maybe you'd better tell us, Sam."

Sam flipped his gaze briefly to the President, then back to Toby.

CJ and Josh leaned forward a bit in their chairs. For once, Sam didn't look ready to back down.

The moment broke when Margaret knocked briefly on the door. She dropped a note in Leo's hand. Leo read it and passed it to the President.

Bartlet looked at his staffers squared off in the middle of the Oval Office. Like two children on a playground, or two boys about to start a bar fight, he mused. "We're going down to the Sit Room. Toby, Sam, cut it out. CJ, perhaps I can get Margaret to hook up a long garden hose in here so you can hose them down if needed."

Leo fell into step beside the President. "Josh, I have a long wooden ruler in my desk so feel free--" He waved with his hand and left with the President.

CJ and Josh looked at each other and smiled despite the situation.

Toby and Sam faced each other. Sam spoke first. My contact told me the virus was stolen from a level four containment facility at USAMRIID, and that you'd been given that information last night."

"I got word that it was possible, Sam."

"You got it, and you knew who was suspected of the theft. You know my past with her.

Josh broke in, "Please tell me this is not another call girl, cuz we really can't handle something like that right now--"

"Shut up, Josh." Toby and Sam chorused the response. Sam broke away and walked to stand with his hands on the back of a chair, effectively blocking himself from Toby and his friends. He blinked and tried to control his emotions. He'd been moments from losing his remaining control right there. He took a breath. Right there in the Oval Office. His hands bit into the back of the chair as he clutched the upholstery.

A moment later Josh stood next to him. "Your hand is bleeding."

Sam looked down at his hands. He'd clutched the back of the chair so hard the cut on his hand opened and bled through the bandage. He realized Josh hadn't mentioned that yet.

"I got pissed. I put it through a wall. You know it's not the first time."

"But it's been a long time since--"

" –Josh, we're not going there now."

CJ watched them with some a mixture of curiosity and horror. She had a difficult time with Sam being so volatile. Toby and Josh were constantly exploding, and it usually blew over fast. When Sam blew, it was bad. It meant something had been brewing for a while.

She took a deep breath and tried to redirect them. "Guys, can we go back to what got us here tonight. Can someone please explain to me what's going on. Perhaps start with what the hell is USAMRIID? That's a new alphabet soup for me."

Josh broke from his place beside Sam and turned back to CJ. "It's the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases."

"And they play with Anthrax?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Other countries engage in ongoing development of biological weapons. We study them to allow countermeasures." Josh supplied the information automatically. Only Sam knew how much Josh hated that he had to know those details.

Toby spoke softly then, and they turned to look at him. "We need to get out of the Oval now. I bet the President is getting the brief on this right now in the Situation room. I'd also bet he's not gonna be happy we knew about it before he did."

They filed quietly out of the Oval and down the hall. CJ grabbed Toby's arm and led him off to her office.

"You need to back off Sam."

"What the hell for? He's a big boy CJ, and he's done more than his fair share of making this administration suffer for his follies."

"It was ONE thing. Only ONE thing he could have avoided. Do you really think that Sam has a problem getting women? But he hasn't even had a date in months. Thanks to you and Josh and Leo and the grief you gave him. What does that tell you? He doesn't like to be alone. But he is. He is, because he's put this job above his life. Think about that."

"I know that."

"Then act like you know it. Because it's ripping him apart. I saw him put his hand through that wall Toby. It scared me. Not much is left that scares me."

CJ turned and walked away, leaving Toby staring at the floor.

Bartlet and McGarry walked the steps up from the Situation Room. Bartlet reached to his tie and slipped it loose.

"Another long day, old friend. And a night ahead as well, it seems. Am I the only one scared to death by the prospect of these morons in possession of a deadly virus?"

"Not at all alone, Mr. President. But it appears that several members of our Senior Staff knew about this before we did."

"Yeah. Both Sam and Toby. This woman who's acting as a spokesperson for the terrorist group dated Sam in college?"

"They, of course, deny that they are 'terrorists.' But yes, that's the information we have right now."

"A rose with thorns by any other name--"

"—You're mangling quotes again, but--"

"—But you get the point."

"Yes."

"Sam put his hand through a wall. I think you need to talk to him about that."

"Toby held information from him."

"What's the story there?"

"I really wish I knew."

"I'll be up in the Residence. Check on the kids, then come up. I'll be done with my drink by then."

"Have one for me." Leo smiled at him, then veered off to the Communications Bullpen.

Down the hall, Josh had herded Sam into his office and closed the door.

"How ya doing?"

"Fine."

"Right. When you're fine, you yell at Toby in the Oval and put your fist through walls."

Sam flopped into a chair and looked up at Josh. "Okay, I'm not having a good day."

"Understating a bit there, aren't you?"

"I'm a writer, I can be subtle."

"Sam--"

"Did Leo tell you to read me the riot act, or do I just get fired?"

"What?"

"I dated the woman who stole the virus. We were in college. We have a few mutual friends. We are not a couple anymore, but we've been at a few events together over the past few years. That's why Toby knows her. Her father worked with Toby years ago in some campaign in Minnesota or something. When it comes out that I know her and that she's contacted me, no spin cycle in the world is gonna prevent this from trashing us. The call I got wasn't from my contact at the agency. It was her. "

"Why did she call you?"

"Because I work in the White House. She wants us to say how bad it is that these programs exist. They stole it to prove they could. They stole it to prove they could steal it and sell it or …"

"--Or use it as a weapon or a bargaining tool. Damn. You have absolutely the worst taste in women. You always have. Leo didn't tell me anything. He knows you aren't actively involved in this. It's not your fault."

"So what if it's not my fault. It looks bad. It looks like I screwed up. Again. Toby's…" His voice trailed off.

"What about Toby?"

"Toby treats me like I'm twelve and at Government Camp."

"He's playing hard politics. We have a war ahead for re-election."

"We've been at war for three years, Josh. I think you even got a purple heart. Or maybe it's just a big nasty scar on your chest. What do you think?"

Josh took a step back. Sam's rancor shocked him. He expected vicious words from Toby and Leo and even himself. The past year had stripped some of Sam's idealism away. Josh felt actual pain in his chest with that realization. And it was no where near his scar.

Josh sat down next to Sam. "I think we'll get through this like we have everything else."

Sam looked up at his friend. "Hey, at least she's a scientist and not a commercial sex worker."

Josh groaned and swatted at Sam's arm.

Back in the Communication Bullpen, Leo found Toby and CJ. Toby took several long swigs from an economy size bottle of Maalox and chased it with Pepto Bismol.

Leo smirked. He leaned into the room and startled CJ. "That combination doesn't work. I suggest you just move up to Pepcid and chase it with straight bourbon. But the Pepto does match CJ's suit."

"You know this is bad." Toby wiped his mouth and spat out the words.

"We've seen worse. What the hell made Sam put his fist through the wall?"

"I really couldn't say."

"Don't play with me. I play on the big kids team."

"I didn't tell him about the call I got. I knew it could hit but I was hoping she wouldn't involve him. He didn't need to know."

"Bullshit. You say that to me like it was a political decision. You were trying to protect him."

"And what if I was? In case you didn't notice, this year has been bad for him. His best friend almost died. We ran him over several times for the sake of the politics and it kills me to see a new chunk of his idealism die every day. Don't you think I'd rather just have him keep writing stupid speeches for CJ and the First Lady? He thinks we don't know he sleeps here to get the work done. He could just phone it in. He's that good of a writer. But he doesn't. He works his guts out on everything from the State of the Union to the geranium lobbyists. So what if I tried to protect him a little!"

"Maybe you should tell him that." Leo spoke and motioned for Toby to throw him the Maalox. "I'm gonna need this tonight." He left with the bottle in his hand.

Toby sighed and looked at a comfortable CJ on his couch. "You have anything to yell at me about?"

"Naah, that covers it for now." She smiled at him and tossed him one of his famous pink balls.

CJ leaned carefully on the door frame. He didn't notice her there. His back was to her as he stared at the file in his hand.

"Sam." She called softly.

When he didn't answer, she stepped in and put a hand on his shoulder. He startled slightly and she thought he might have been asleep.

"Hi." Sam mumbled. He closed the folder and reached for another. "Here's a draft of your commencement speech. Read it and let me know what you think."

She shook her head in confusion. She'd forgotten about the speech. When had he been able to do it? She noticed he deep purple smudges under his usually bright eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

She leaned on the corner of the desk then, and put her hand on his other shoulder to swing him to face her. "I don't care about the speech right now. When did you sleep last?"

"Last night."

"You slept here again, didn't you?"

She saw a moment of indecision flicker in his eyes. He considered lying but knew she wouldn't believe him. "Yes."

"You can't keep pushing like this. You've been on full throttle for weeks."

"I do this all the time. We all do."

"But eventually we get a slow week or day and we catch up. This was supposed to be a slow week." Her hands gestured wildly in loose circles.

"It doesn't always work that way." He gave her a small smile and put a hand on her arm.

She felt a bit of the worry recede at his response. Then she dropped her gaze to the hand on her arm and saw the bandage. Under the bandage his hand stirred with barely perceptible tremors. He got those when he'd had too much coffee, too little sleep and too much emotional pain.

The last time she'd seen it so bad was after Josh's shooting. He'd been frazzled for days. He'd looked shockingly normal to ninety percent of the people who'd seen him. But those who knew him best knew how to tell he'd reached the limits. It was a small thing in their world. But seeing his hand shake reminded her that he was only putting on a good show for her. And he could put on a show. They usually forgot how good Sam was at misdirection. But Gage Whitney hadn't paid him a six figure salary just because he looked good in suits.

She stepped back from him, but held his bandaged hand in her own. Then she held it up it front of his face. "I might have believed you before, but I just saw you put your hand through a wall, remember."

Sam pulled his hand away and walked to the other side of the room. "Don't play Den Mother. Leave it alone."

A knock on his open door made them both turn their heads. A uniformed messenger held an envelope.

"Mr. Seaborn, I need you to sign for this, please."

Sam opened the envelope slowly. He didn't recognize the return address. His face was blank as he looked at the contents, but his voice rose in frustration a moment later when he threw them on the desk.

"Remember how I said there wasn't a direct paper trail to the President showing knowledge of the research programs? It seems there really is such a trail. That's the minutes of a security briefing from six months ago that the President attended. It detailed the status of the program and its stated objectives. And just for fun she also sent me a picture of us from college."

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his hand against the throbbing ache starting to form behind his eyes. He realized there was a limit to how long he could survive on coffee and sugar. But he really didn't have a choice right now. He took a deep breath and put his game face back in place.

CJ leaned down to pick up the picture. A much younger Sam smiled into the camera as a pretty young blond fed him pizza from her spot on his lap.

"Damn." CJ swore softly and dropped the picture again. "Now what do we do?"

"We take this to Leo."

"What are you taking to me?" Leo growled from the door.

Sam gestured to the papers and the photo on his desk. Leo perused them quickly and swore softly for a few minutes. He too, was having a bad day.

"This is big trouble."

"I do know that. What's the next step?"

"I'll hand these over to the people at the agency and the task force we've set up. We need you and the other legal geeks to see what this means to us. But right now you need to get the hell out of here and get a few hours of sleep. When this hits the press you'll be their favorite target. I'm sending some Secret Service guys with you now anyway. Wait here a few minutes."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Leo silenced him with a hand. "Don't even try to argue. Just go. Or I'll have them drag you out. CJ, I need you to find out if the Press has any scent on this yet."

Leo didn't wait for a response. He scooped up the envelope and strode back down the hall. A moment later they leaned out when they heard a crash and saw the trash can Leo just kicked spiral across the hall and hit a desk.

After he dropped the envelope off, Leo headed to the Residence as promised. He found Bartlet throwing back a shot of his favorite bourbon and munching a chocolate bar.

"Put down the chocolate, Jed. Abby will kill you if she finds out. You know it wires you worse than coffee."

Bartlet turned and smiled at his friend as he took another bite. "What are you, the Candy Police?"

"Not even close. Have a seat, Mr. President." Bartlet didn't miss the change in address. It meant Leo had business.

Bartlet tossed Leo a candy bar and sat down in the chair across from him. They'd started another hour in this endless night.

Sam never made it out of his hallway, much less home that night. The story of the stolen
Anthrax broke on CNN moments after Leo left his office.

His former 'friend' sent the press a detailed account of the situation. The NSA and CDC officially joined the fray. Several other agencies joined quietly. They called in favors to the news breakers to stop the release of classified information. When those attempts failed, they squelched key parts of the released information under national security statutes.

But the damage was done. The public heard the gist of the story. They knew that a group of people had breached supposedly airtight security to steal the virus. Thus far, they'd held back Sam's tangential involvement and the security transcripts detailing the President's involvement.

Sam doubted the press would need long to put those associations together on their own. Everyone wanted to blame someone for the threat they felt aimed at their families.

Thus far, they didn't know the actual location of the 'Terrorists.' Sam called them that. Like everyone else, he called them that. In brief moments of solitude during the next few whirlwind hours, he wondered what had made the smiling college girl in the picture do something like this.

Josh called Donna in as soon as he knew the severity of the situation. She heard his irritated voice shouting into the phone before she rounded the last corner of the Bullpen. She planned to yell at him and demand to know who the hell he thought he was to summon her without any explanation. But when she stormed into his office and looked at the pain in his eyes, she dropped quietly in the chair and waited until he finished his call.

He smashed the receiver down a moment later. "Donna, I'm sorry. I couldn't talk about this on the phone."

She nodded, both forgiving him and beginning to worry about him. He looked shockingly tired. She looked briefly around the office and took in the mountains of empty coffee cups. He'd probably forgotten to eat, but he'd had enough coffee to stoke an army. It made him even more irritable. And he wondered why she never brought him any. She leaned back in the chair as he began explaining the situation.

Toby sat in his office and launched the balls at the wall in rapid succession. It wasn't helping him think this time.

Sam sat at his desk in the office next door, idly twirling his pen in his hand. He found the repetitive thumping on the wall somewhat comforting. His hands still shook, so he dropped the pen a few times.

The aides from Legal dropped off five boxes of briefs and memos for his review. In another stoke of ill luck, most of the Counsel's office was gone to Alaska to negotiate the pipeline rights. No one left behind had the security clearance to review the data. At least no one the President was willing to trust. So it fell upon Sam.

His only consolation was that the usual daily chaos in the West Wing escalated to a level so far above normal that everyone left him alone to work. He locked himself in his office and attacked the paper mountains like a reckless but skilled climber. He found that concentrating on the task diverted him from the pain of considering the larger problem.

CJ cast a few apprehensive glances at Sam's closed door during the day, but didn't have time to disturb him. Late in the day, she tracked Josh down in his office. He'd been on the Hill all day.

"You need to do something about Sam."

"Well hello to you as well. What about him?"

Josh flopped into his chair and watched carefully as CJ closed the door behind her.

CJ let out a long-suppressed sigh. "You haven't seen him today, have you? Or you wouldn't need to ask."

"Um, no. I've been on the Hill. I'm sure he just needs some sleep. We've all done this before, CJ. If you hover over him, it'll just make it worse."

"Tell me that again after you see him." She stood again and was gone as quickly as she'd come.

Josh rose to go find Sam, but was stopped by Donna's yell to pick up the phone. "It's Leo," she announced. Josh shrugged and dropped back into his chair.

The West Wing was dark when Josh found Sam. Coffee cups filled the trash can, along with several take out boxes. Josh viewed this as a good sign. Sam was eating. Sam was consuming coffee. And Sam was buried in paper. It didn't strike him as a situation he should worry about.

Not bothering to knock, Josh navigated around the paper on the floor and leaned on the desk in front of Sam. "Hey."

Sam's head snapped up, and Josh saw tired and haunted eyes. "Go away."

"How's it going?"

"It was going fine, till you showed up to bother me."

"It's what I do." Josh shrugged. He tried to bait Sam. That's what he really did well.

"Unless you have some new information for me, just leave. I have to get through these…things."

Josh listened closely. Sam was tired enough to resort to saying 'things' not for fashion but because he couldn't think of a better descriptor. That meant he was truly exhausted.

"Leo and the President are still locked in the Situation Room. As far as I know, the Press doesn't have anything about your association with the girl. There have been some communications, but they've all been from the group. So you've been pretty lucky so far."

"I really don't think I'd say that."

"Yeah. Hey. What's her name?"

"What?" Sam was ignoring Josh as much as possible, and continuing to make notes on a thick legal pad in a scant clear space on his desk.

"What's your little college friend's name?"

"Lisa."

"Another Lisa? I'm telling you right now, you gotta stay the hell away from the Lisas in the world. It's bad karma or mojo or something for you."

"Yeah."

"I'm bothering you?"

"Yes."

"CJ was worried." Yes, blame the girl, thought Josh. It's working so far.

"That's understandable. The Press is going to spin this like crazy."

"She was worried about you."

"What?"

"You've slipped a bit from GQ poster boy status in the past few days. Quite frankly you look like you're gonna drop from exhaustion any minute."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"How much more do you have to do?" Josh paced and idly began tossing a stapler in his hands.

"Actually, I'm almost done. I just worked up a short brief of the legal ramifications for the President. Leo can have Counsel's office do something more when they get back."

"Is it bad?"

"No. The President didn't do anything wrong."

"So who did?" Josh's voice was uncharacteristically quiet. Biologically warfare and its ramifications scared him more than real bullets.

Sam looked up and caught the change in his friend's voice. He understood that Josh had issues over this situation which were totally unrelated to the current circumstances.

Sam took a deep breath and started to speak, but was interrupted when Toby appeared and dropped unceremoniously into a chair. When he spoke, both Josh and Sam could tell he was exhausted and shaken. But Toby was Toby, and unless you knew him well, he just sounded grumpy.

"Did you finish it?"

Sam leaned over to print a copy of his draft of comments. "I'm printing you a copy now. Don't snark at the punctuation, Toby. It's a legal brief. I'm quite proficient at them. The punctuation is not the important part."

Toby leaned back farther in the chair. "The last thing I give a flying flit about right now is your punctuation. Do you have any bourbon in those drawers?"

Josh smirked, "Is 'flit' a real word?"

"Shut up." Toby delivered his command with a brief glower at Josh.

Sam smiled and leaned down to extract a package from a drawer. "Actually, Toby, I can give you your birthday present early. This is a specially bottled Kentucky Bourbon which is supposed to be famous for its smooth--"

--"Shut up and open the damn bottle," Toby grumbled as he grabbed three glasses from a nearby shelf. He handed one to each of them and waited expectantly while Sam opened the bottle.

Sam complied. "You know, in order to be called Bourbon, it has to be made in Kentucky. Otherwise it has to be called 'sour mash'--"

--"Sam, shut the hell up. I hate that trivia from the President and I don't want to hear it rehashed by anybody else. This is one of those days when you just wish you had another job. Any job." Toby downed his drink and grabbed the bottle from Sam.

Sam and Josh sipped their drinks and waited for more of Toby uncharacteristic revelations.

Toby didn't disappoint them, and continued almost immediately. "When I was in law school, my roommate and I kept job postings on our bulletin boards to remind us that there were other things we could do besides study for 26 hours a day and eat cold pizza. My favorite was for Joe's Truck Driving Academy. They had a great program. Six weeks of training and then you were free on the open road."

Josh smiled and jumped in to the subject. "We kept a copy of the Postal Service applications on the refrigerator. This was before the phrase 'going postal' was a thing, so it's really more funny in retrospect. If it weren't for a few really fantastic friends who kept my head on then, I could be your Mail Carrier today."

He paused to take a long sip of his drink. "Maybe I should have done it. Delivering the mail seems like it could be fun. Sunshine, outdoors. A little exercise if a dog chases you. But wait, I did have my own meltdown, so perhaps it was prophetic after all."

Sam looked at him carefully, concerned that Josh was taking the topic a bit too seriously given his recent bout of PTSD. But then Josh gave him that patented sarcastic grin and he knew it was fine.

Toby jumped back in. "Sam, what did you keep on your bulletin board?"

Sam leaned back in his chair and ran a tired hand over his eyes before answering. "Copies of the professional surfing championship schedule."

Josh grinned again. "Sam, you suck as a surfer."

"That's the point of it. Give me back the bottle Toby." Sam held out his hand. He refilled his glass and Josh's.

"Leo's gonna kill you if you get drunk." CJ's voice filtered in from the door.

Toby didn't answer, but held out a glass. She took the glass and held it while Sam poured her a shot. She glanced at the amber liquid and smiled. "You know that in order to be called Bourbon--"

CJ was silenced immediately by groans from the three men. Toby spoke, "Do you think the President realizes how much spiraling torture his anecdotes and trivia actually cause?"

Before anyone in the room could answer, Leo responded from the doorway. "Yeah, he does. That's most of his fun. I hope you guys aren't drunk yet."

Josh struggled to an upright position. "What's the latest news, Leo?"

Leo paused to look at the faces in the room. They all looked tired, and unfortunately not as drunk as they had a right to. "It's over. They caught them. They were holed up in some backwater town in Montana. I turns out that they'd incinerated the virus right after they stole it. They really didn't want to put anyone at risk, according to the comments in documents left at their headquarters. But it ended badly. The Agency guys took them by surprise, and both sides started shooting. Old fashioned firearms turned out to be twice as deadly."

Leo paused a moment to take in the stunned looks on their faces. "Sam, I'm sorry, but your friend Lisa was killed."

Sam's voice was steady. "She hasn't been my friend for a very long time. But she did keep me off the pro surfing circuit."

Leo stared back at him in confusion. The others in the room smiled softly into their drinks. Leo turned and left, shaking his head softly.

Toby paused a moment, then held up his glass. "To Sam's first Lisa, whatever stupid things she may have done, she was there to keep him in school so could be here now to surf the big tsunami."

Sam hesitated just a moment, then raised his glass with the others and downed the rest of his drink.