It was dark out. It had been since the sun had set hours earlier, but this fact had escaped the solitary figure slumped over his desk in the White House office. Sam Seaborn, who had looked haggard and been uncharacteristically short-tempered all day, was now fast asleep. The busy day-to-day activity outside his office had long since ceased for the evening.

He was in such a deep sleep that he did not hear the footsteps that came to a stop outside his office. He did not even awaken when the door was swung open. However, Toby's surprised yell of "Sam!" would have been hard for the dead to sleep through, and brought the Deputy Communications Director awake with a start. Though jerking his head up brought a slight moan as his neck complained of the awkward position it had been forced to endure, Sam managed to give his boss an innocent look. "What?"

"What?!!" Toby slammed the door for emphasis and advanced towards his deputy. As the older man's dark eyes flashed, all Sam's sleepy brain managed to come up with was 'This is not good, Seaborn. Not good at all.'

"Sam, what is you lately. You dragged in here this morning, actually the past few mornings, looking like you spent the night on the town. You can't focus on anything…" Toby's tirade continued as Sam rubbed his aching neck and focused his eyes downward. "…and I've never seen you in this bad a mood. You're a pain to work with, yelling at anyone and everyone over nothing. People are actually complaining about you to me. And now…"

Sam risked a glance upward when Toby trailed off and sank into a chair. It suddenly dawned on him that his boss looked almost as tired as he was. When the Communications Director spoke again, the anger had drained from his voice. "Now I find you here, hours after you should have gone home, asleep at your desk." Sam held his gaze as Toby leaned forward and said softly, "Tell me what's going on Sam."

The uncharacteristic tenderness in Toby's voice first surprised Sam, then made unexpected tears come to his eyes. He tried to draw up the anger that had been ever-present lately, but could not find it. He was just so tired.

He looked down quickly to hide his filling eyes and fumbled with the folder that had served as his pillow. "I'm not the only one here a few hours late," he mumbled.

"I'm working, you're sleeping. At your desk, in the most uncomfortable position known to man. Well, businessmen, anyhow. That isn't normal behavior for you, Sam." A pause-then, "Is it Josh? "

Sam glanced up sharply, and then averted his eyes as he stood and wandered over to his window to stare into the darkness.

"I'm going to take that as a yes." Behind him, he heard Toby sigh, then the creaking of the chair and soft footsteps as he stood and slowly approached. Sam kept his eyes focused outside as his boss came to stand beside him. "Josh is going to be OK, " he said softly.

"You don't know that Toby!" His words were mostly filled with despair, but they also held a bit of anger.

"What are you thinking, Sam?" Toby's voice, on the other hand, was annoyingly calm. "I could understand worry, but what's with all the anger lately? Are you mad at Josh? "

Sam spun towards Toby. "No! I mean, I wish he'd gotten some help sooner, but it isn't his fault…" he was shaking his head, staring at Toby through eyes blurred with tears.

"So who are you mad at?"

"I don't know! He should have had help…someone should have helped him…" the tears were falling now, but he was past caring as the truth came out in a whisper: "I should have helped him." He vaguely realized that he was losing it, and in front of Toby no less. He'd probably find himself with a shrink soon.

"Sam…you can't put all that responsibility on yourself. Contrary to what you may think, you are not accountable for the welfare of everyone around you."

"I am accountable for him, he's my best friend!" Sam turned away from Toby and the window towards his desk-and promptly tripped over his own two feet. Toby reacted quickly and grabbed him around the waist, keeping him from crashing to the floor. His boss then steadied him and got him seated in the chair Toby had occupied minutes earlier before dragging the other chair up to sit beside him.

"I realize this is probably a bad time to point this out, but that was pretty klutzy Sam. Even for you," he said. While the words were sarcastic, his tone was not. Sam looked up and received a slight smile. It wasn't every day he earned a smile from Toby. He couldn't help but smile back, even as the tears continued to run down his face.

However, he sobered quickly. "What kind of friend doesn't see when someone he cares about is hurting as badly as Josh has been? I didn't know anything was wrong until that day in the oval office. He didn't say anything, so I assumed he was fine, but…obviously he's not."

Beside him, Toby lay a tentative hand on his shoulder. "You answered your own question-he didn't say anything. He's been pushing all of us away. All of us, Sam. Nobody expects you to be psychic."

"But…" Sam gave a frustrated sigh. Toby, seeing that he was getting through, gave him another smile and squeezed his shoulder before releasing it to pat him on the back.

"You are a good friend. I'm sure Josh will tell you the same thing. You should talk to him in the morning. But everything is going to be fine; you'll see."

"OK, I suppose it's possible that you're right," Sam said as he leaned back, closed his eyes, and felt the fatigue pulling at him again. He really was too tired to think straight. He realized that he still had tears running down his cheeks. He reopened his eyes and gave Toby a quizzical glance. "Why can't I stop crying?" he asked, voice filled with confusion.

Toby gave a gentle laugh at the childlike quality evident in the question. "Well, if you being sound asleep at your desk is any indication, I'd say you're exhausted. How long has it been since you slept?"

"You mean besides at my desk?" Toby gave him a look. "A couple of days, I guess." The look grew more pronounced. "Maybe more." He looked away sheepishly before changing the subject. "I'll talk to Josh in the morning. Assuming he still has a job."

"Don't worry, he does."

Sam gave his boss a suspicious look. "How do you know?"

"Oh…ah…well…I talked to Leo." It was Toby's turn to look sheepish as Sam smiled.

"I thought you said you were here late working."

"I was," Toby said defensively. "I just thought, you know, as long as I was here…"

Sam closed his eyes again and said nothing, but kept smiling. He'd long since suspected that his boss's gruff and untouchable exterior was not as impenetrable as it seemed. That Toby had stayed late to check on Josh and that he was now in here trying to comfort Sam spoke volumes.

"Sam! You still awake in there?"

Sam opened one eye and gave a lazy nod. Toby sighed. "You can't sleep there either. And something tells me putting you behind the wheel is a bad plan, too. Come on, I'll drive you home."

Toby pulled him to his feet and Sam retrieved his coat as he yawned and asked, "How am I going to get here in the morning?"

"I'll pick you up."

They made it all the way to the parking lot before Sam tripped again. As Toby got an arm around his shoulders and supported him the rest of the way to his car, Sam asked sleepily, "Do you really think I'm a good friend?"

Toby stopped a few feet from the car and gave him his patented 'How stupid can you be' look. When Sam continued to stare at him, obviously expecting an answer, he said softly, "Of course I do."

When Sam’s face broke into a happy grin, Toby was soon smiling too. Under normal circumstances Sam would never have done what he did next, but being only half awake was affecting his judgement and he figured, what the hell. He put his arms around Toby in a quick, friendly hug and whispered, "Thank you."

Toby seemed taken aback at first, but then he surprised Sam by returning the embrace and giving him an awkward pat on the back before letting go. "OK, let's get you home." Sam was asleep minutes after being deposited in the passenger seat, feeling for the first time in weeks that things were looking up.

The next morning found Sam feeling considerably better after the combination of his talk with Toby and a good night's sleep. After his boss picked him up and delivered him to work as promised, he made his way to Josh's office.

He stopped at Donna’s desk to say good morning. Something in his expression must have screamed 'I'm worried about Josh,' because she gave him an earnest look and said, "He’s alright, Sam. He's been asking to see you. Go on in."

He approached slowly, took a deep breath, and knocked softly on the open door. Josh glanced up, and Sam would later tease that his face lit up like a Christmas Tree when he saw who it was. "Hey Sam! Come on in." He finished whatever he had been writing and stood to walk around his desk as Sam came in and closed the door behind him.

They stood staring at each other awkwardly for a moment before Josh plopped down on the corner of his desk and broke the ice with, "What's wrong with your neck?"

Sam had not even realized he was rubbing it. "Just a crick. I kind of fell asleep at my desk last night."

"You? Fell asleep at your desk? Did someone slip a sleeping pill in your coffee?"

"No," Sam grinned, comfortable with their usual banter. "I just missed a little sleep worrying about this jerk I work with," he teased.

Josh grinned back. "Really? Anybody I know?" Then he grew serious. "You were worried about me, huh?"

"Hey, you're my best friend. It's in the job description." Sam held Josh's serious gaze. "So how are you doing, buddy?"

"Stanley the Shrink says I have post-traumatic stress disorder." He shrugged. "Then he said I was an easy case and could have a different psychologist with lesser credentials. Leo says I still have a job, so I think I'll live." He looked into Sam’s eyes, and Sam could tell he was trying to read what he was thinking. "So. Your crazy best friend has been keeping you up worrying. Are you mad at him for that?"

"You are not crazy. You're traumatized, and there is no way I would be mad at you for that." Sam sighed heavily and moved to sit beside Josh. "I'm just…I'm sorry."

Josh twisted to look at him incredulously. "What have you got to be sorry for? Oh, Sam, please tell me you haven't found some way to feel guilty about all of this."

Sam was busily studying the floor. "I just wish I could have been there for you, that's all. I feel like I should have been a better friend."

Beside him, Josh put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "Sam, you have been there for me. All through my recovery, through the insurance mess, and whenever I needed a friend…except maybe these last few weeks, but that is not your fault. It's mine."

Sam started to interrupt, but Josh was having none of that. "No Sam, I need to say this, please." Sam nodded and listened. Josh stood and paced as he spoke. "The only reason you didn't see that I was in trouble is because I hid it from you; from all of you. I felt myself spinning out of control but I didn't want to deal with it. I was scared; scared that I was going crazy and that if I let anyone in, if anyone found out, I'd lose my job, my friends…so I wouldn't even admit it to myself. It's hard to ask for help when you are in denial."

Sam was staring at him, sorrow in his eyes. He got up to stand in front of his best friend. "Josh, I'm so-"

Josh slapped a hand over his mouth. "Do not say you're sorry. The whole point of my soul-baring speech there was to convince you that you have nothing to be sorry for. Nod your head that you understand."

Sam nodded and Josh removed his hand, both of them breaking into big smiles. "You are a good friend Sam."

Sam snickered. "Did you and Toby compare notes? Because he said the same thing."

Josh looked at him in shock. "Seriously?!"

"Seriously."

Josh shook his head. "I didn't think it could be done, but you're breaking through his barriers, Sam. I shouldn't be surprised, after all, you broke through mine too."

Sam gave him a brilliant smile. "So we're OK here?"

Josh gave an exaggerated sigh, but could not hide his smile. "Yes, you idiot. Come here."

They fell into a tight brotherly embrace. As Sam hugged his friend, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks, not only because Josh would be all right but for the strength of their friendship. Josh was lightly rubbing his back with one hand, and Sam realized that even though Josh was the one with the problem he was still taking the role of big brother and comforter. "Hey Josh?" he said softly. "Next time, just know that you can come to me, OK? About anything." Josh nodded.

A knock finally broke them apart. "Hey guys," Donna called through the door. "I hate to interrupt, but you're late. And standing up the President is probably not a good career move."

Josh and Sam simultaneously looked at their watches, then flew out the door, practically running over Donna. She picked herself up and stared down the hallway after them, shaking her head.

Then she smiled; knowing that everything was going to turn out fine.

"We shall find peace. We shall hear angels, we shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds." -Chekov