"Yes, Toby." Sam slowed his pace to allow Toby to catch up to him.

"Where have you been? I've been trying to find you for an hour!"

"I was just talking to Josh. What do you need?"

"We have a problem."

Sam didn't seem too concerned. "You understand I don't care, right? I'm finally on my way home. What's the problem?"

"The President is giving an hour-long speech to the Bored Rich People's Charity Organization at 10:30 am tomorrow."

Sam stopped dead. "The what?"

"They're a group of bored rich people that do good things."

"They actually called themselves the...?"

"They seem to have a sense of humour about it." Toby, on the other hand, didn't seem to find it the least bit amusing.

"And since when has the President been giving them a speech?"

"Since an hour ago. They actually called a month ago, but he had an appointment already."

"So what happened to the appointment?!"

"Canceled. The guy died."

"And the reason the President is not just taking some time off?" Sam was getting annoyed at having to ask for each bit of information.

"The First Lady and Mrs Landingham are ordering him to go. I think it's punishment for something."

"Oh, well, there we have the introduction already. 'I don't really want to be here, but my wife and my secretary made me come!'"

"Sam."

"Does he know we haven't slept in two days?"

"Yes."

"Does he know that it's 6 o'clock and we were going to go home and actually get some sleep for once?"

"Yes, and he apologizes."

"Did you know that if you're deprived of sleep for long enough, you actually go crazy?"

"That's very interesting," said Toby, unenthusiastically.

"I'm not doing it. He can wing it."

"Sam, he's the President."

Sam sighed. "I guess we'd better get started."

Toby smiled evilly. "You mean *you'd* better get started."

"What?"

"I'm going home to get some sleep."

"Toby! You can't do this!"

"Sam, I'm your boss. I can do this if I want."

"Toby, I've never written a speech in under 24 hours in my life!" Sam gesticulated frantically, resisting the urge to shake Toby like a rag doll.

"It's just an hour long."

"Not even an hour long speech!"

"You did once..."

"Yes, but I wasn't sleep-deprived at the time!"

"You'll do fine. You'll have it finished by 2am. They know it's short notice, they won't be expecting magic."

"Toby. It took me hours just to write a birthday card."

"Bye, Sam."

"I thought you said you were never letting me write a speech on my own again!"

"I'm too tired to care, Sam. I'll look it over when I get in tomorrow. Relax, it's only an hour."

"*Only* an hour?! Toby! You can't go!"

"Really? That's interesting, because, look at me, I'm going."

"Toby!"

"Bye." Toby walked off down the corridor, leaving Sam standing in the middle of the corridor in shock.

Leo poked his head out of his office, certain he had heard the voice of at least one person he needed to see. "Sam! Can you come in here?"

"I have to write a speech for the President, Leo."

"This will only take a second."

Sam thought longingly of his bed, then hatefully of Toby, then fearfully of the speech, then resentfully of the fact that he would be the only one in the building working late, and then sighed.

"Coming."

Four hours later, Sam finally managed to escape to his office, carrying the information on the BRPCO that Cathy had put together for him. He slumped into his chair, switched on his laptop and the lamp on his desk, rubbed his face wearily, and opened the file.

****

"Sam? Sam!"

"Hungh!" Sam started and looked around blearily, before allowing his gaze to settle on Cathy.

"Have you been here all night?" she asked, surprised.

"Mmmf," muttered Sam.

"You finished the speech, right?"

"Wha' speech?"

"The speech that the President is going to give in –" Cathy glanced at her watch. "- four hours?"

"S'okay, I got 'til t'morrow to do that."

"It *is* tomorrow."

Sam finally woke up fully. "Cathy! What are you doing here?" He looked around again, more alert this time, and realized it was morning. "Oh my God. I fell asleep. Oh my God. What time is it?"

"6:30 am. You didn't finish the speech?"

"Oh, God, Cathy! I... I... I'm dead! I should just kill myself right now."

"Sam, calm down. Did you get anything done?"

Sam looked at his laptop. "Yeah. I wrote... I wrote one sentence! Oh my God!"

"Okay, just relax. I'll get you some coffee. Just calm down."

Sam sat still, staring at his laptop with his hands in his hair and an expression of horror on his face.

He was still sitting like that three minutes later when Cathy brought coffee. "Sam?" she asked cautiously, setting the mug down on the desk. "Are you okay?"

"I... I have four hours to write a speech. I... I... Oh, my God."

"Okay, just drink your coffee. It's only an hour long. You have plenty of time. You work well under pressure."

"I don't work well under pressure! I suck under pressure!"

"Drink your coffee!"

Sam picked up his coffee with a shaking hand and took a sip, suppressing a scream when it burned his mouth.

"It'll be fine, Sam. Just... get started... and I'll be right back."

Cathy stepped out of the office, and, true to her word, immediately stepped back in, slamming the door behind her. "Toby's outside!" she hissed.

Sam choked on his coffee. "Don't let him in!" he managed to wheeze between coughs.

"Okay. I'll get him away." Cathy opened the door to slip out, and was dismayed to find Toby standing in front of her.

"Hello, Cathy," he said. "May I come in?"

"Nuh, uh, no. Sam... Sam isn't here."

"I beg your pardon, but he is. I can see him over your shoulder. And he looks rather worried."

"Uh... oh... dear..." Cathy gave Sam an apologetic look as Toby pushed past her, then left.

"Hello, Sam."

"Hhhhhhgn... Hello, Toby."

"I came to read over the speech."

Sam said nothing - just stared at his boss with a stricken expression.

Toby groaned. "Sam, what happened?"

"I... I was reading through the file and I must have fallen asleep..."

"Sam!"

"I know!"

"Sam!"

"You left me here, you know! I was just as tired as you were!"

Toby gritted his teeth. "Okay, did you at least come up with a first draft?"

"I came up... with... a... first sentence."

"Sam!"

"I know!"

"Okay, just... start writing. I'll try and buy us some time."

Sam nodded, bent over his keyboard and started to type, just as Cathy burst in again. He ignored her.

"Josh is outside!" she said urgently. Sam made a strangled sound.

"Don't let him in!" Toby ordered.

"Oh, and how do you suggest I stop him?"

"Just – I'll do it." Toby stepped outside, but couldn't close the door before Josh approached him.

"Hi, Toby."

"Hello."

"Sam in there?"

"No."

"I can see him over your shoulder."

"Yes, he's in there," Toby admitted.

"He looks pretty busy typing."

"He's just... putting the finishing touches on the speech."

"Toby! You're not finished yet?"

"We are! We are, we're finished. We're just adding... we're polishing, is what we're doing."

Josh stared at him. "Polishing. Right."

"Right. So go away and let Sam polish in peace. In fact, I'll come with you. Let's go."

"But..." Josh protested to no avail as Toby herded him away from Sam's office, giving Cathy a quick "Don't let him stop writing!" as he passed her. Cathy watched them go, chewing her lower lip worriedly.

Toby returned fifteen minutes later, to find Sam still frenziedly typing away.

"They're going to move the President down the list of speakers a little, so I bought us some time."

"How much time?" asked Sam, without looking up.

Toby closed his eyes and leaned against the door. "Half an hour. Maybe 45 minutes."

"Half an hour?! Oh, great! That changes everything! A whole 30 minutes!"

"Shut up and keep typing. What've you got so far?"

Sam pointed to some pages by the printer. "Two pages."

"Two pages in fifteen minutes? Hmm." Toby picked up the pages and skimmed them. "Okay... all right... what does this sentence mean?"

Sam paused in his typing long enough to look at the page. "Put a comma there," he said, pointing.

"Ah. Oh, I see. Okay. Okay... Fine... This is fine. We will have to do some editing, and you might want to use some punctuation in this sentence, Sam."

"Shut up. You got us into this."

"Me? You fell asleep!"

"You should've been here to keep me awake! Or you could've given the stupid speech to someone else!"

"Shut up and type!"

*****

Three hours and fifteen minutes later, Toby and Sam sat in a limo with POTUS, on his insistence. Sam was still typing away on his laptop.

POTUS watched him in silence for a second. "What's he doing?" he asked Toby eventually.

"He's just polishing your speech, sir."

"Polishing?"

"Polishing," confirmed Toby, surreptitiously leaning back to see what Sam was writing.

"Shouldn't it be finished by now?"

"It *was* short notice, sir."

"Yes, but shouldn't it be printed out, or on a teleprompter or something?"

"It's a small room, sir, you will be reading from notes. Mandy decided that it would be more intimate. And we will have plenty of time to print it out when we get there."

"I would have liked a chance to actually read over it before I have to deliver it, you know."

"Sorry, sir."

"So that I wouldn't actually have to read the whole thing."

"Sorry, sir."

"Well, anyway, you shouldn't type in a car. It's bad for your eyes."

"I'll tell him that when he stops concentrating so hard, sir."

Shortly after that, Sam wearily handed the President a printout of the finished speech. POTUS glanced at it. "What's this sentence mean?" he asked, puzzled.

Sam winced. "Put a comma there." He pointed.

"Oh. Oh, I see. Ah."

"... honoured to introduce the President of the United States!"

"That's your cue, sir."

The President nodded, and walked up to the podium.

Toby and Sam sagged with relief as the President delivered the closing line of his speech and returned to his seat, accompanied by enthusiastic applause.

"I can't believe we pulled that off," Sam gasped. "Look at me, I'm shaking."

"Great speech, Sam!" Josh slapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Yeah, you must have been up all night on that one," put in CJ.

"Ahaha," said Sam. "I'm going to go home now."

"You certainly deserve the rest of the day off," said Leo, who was in a rare good mood. "I'll arrange it."

"You're the Chief of Staff. Why do you need to *arrange* anything?"

asked Josh.

"Okay, poof! It's arranged," Leo announced, glaring at Josh.

"You couldn't just give it to him? What's to arrange?"

"Shut up, Josh."

"Okay." Josh shrugged and wandered off to find Donna, so he could yell at her for no good reason. He might as well enjoy the ten minutes he had free before they had to return to the White House.

"Don't I get a day off?" Toby asked sulkily.

"Were you up all night writing this speech?"

"No."

"Then why are you even asking?" Suddenly remembering he had better things to do than talk to Toby, Leo sauntered off without even a wave goodbye.

"Humph," muttered Toby.

"Toby, I just gotta say..." Sam said, noting that they were alone.

"Yes?"

"You ever do that to me again and I'll kick your ass."

"I outrank you. You can't kick my ass."

"I'll find a way to get the President to demote you, and then I'll kick your ass from here to Canada."

Toby shrugged. "If you think you could take me..."

"Oh, I could take you."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"I could!"

"You just keep thinking that in your, you know, deluded little mind."

"Hey, guys. Good speech."

"Thanks, Charlie."

Charlie stared at the two of them, a faint, knowing smile on his face.

"What?" Sam asked eventually.

"You weren't up all night on that speech at all, were you? You fell asleep."

Sam coughed. "What... gave you that idea?"

"I have my ways of finding these things out. That speech was a rush job."

"Er... yeah."

"You pulled it off, though, so I guess that's okay."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"No. Well, maybe just Zoey." Charlie grinned wickedly.

Sam stared at him for a few seconds before saying, "I'm going home now. "

"Go home and get some sleep," Charlie agreed.

"Sleep," repeated Sam. Sleep sounded good. Lots of sleep - and tomorrow, he would be wide awake without any emergency speech-writing sessions to face. Sleep. Oh, yes.

He took two steps away from Charlie and Toby, then turned back. "You know I could take you with one hand behind my back, right?"

"Keep dreaming," Toby replied.

"I could. Probably even both hands."

"Yeah, yeah."

"And one foot..."

"Go away."

"Okay. And, Toby..."

"What?!"

"Don't do it again."

"Shoo. You're bothering me."

Toby watched Sam go, shaking his head slightly. One thing was for sure, he wouldn't do it again. It just wasn't worth the stress.