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"Are you okay?"

Toby Ziegler had sworn to himself a few hours earlier that if one more 
person asked him that question, said person would get throttled. 
Unfortunately, he needed Sam in one piece to help him polish the 
speech that was set to be delivered the next day. So he settled for 
glaring at his young deputy before waving him impatiently into his 
office.

Sam obeyed the silent command, shutting the door behind him and moving 
to sit on Toby's couch. His boss's glares no longer phased him much. 
"Seriously, you don't look too good. Are you feeling alright?"

Toby's mind sprung to produce a harsh retort, but he could not summon 
the energy needed to deliver it. Especially when he glanced up and 
locked eyes with a pair of honestly concerned blue ones. He sighed. 
"I'll be fine, Sam. Let's just finish this thing and go home, okay?"

Sam agreed, although he still looked concerned as they began to work. 

Two hours later, the activity outside the office had calmed to the 
point that only Ginger remained at her desk. Sam had even dismissed 
Cathy during the short break they had taken a half-hour earlier.

Sam was looking happily at a finished product. Toby, meanwhile, was 
slightly ashamed that he had let Sam do almost all of the work with 
only a few nods and short comments from him. He just could not keep 
his mind on the speech. Truth be told, he felt like hell.

He had chalked it up to the stress that had dominated his life lately, 
but he was beginning to fear it might be something more. He was 
exhausted. That in itself wasn't really a cause for alarm, as he had 
felt true exhaustion before, but this was different. He just didn't 
feel right. He had been sweating despite the comfortable temperature 
in his office. More than one person had told him he looked pale, and 
the mirrors agreed with them. And for the last half-hour since they 
had settled back to work after their break, he had found himself 
fighting nausea. 

"Toby?" Sam's voice, suddenly laced with fear, brought his attention 
to the younger man. He followed Sam's line of sight and realized he 
was rubbing his chest. Later he would insist that it hadn't really 
hurt, just felt a bit tight and uncomfortable. But right then he 
didn't respond, as he was suddenly assaulted with dizziness. He was 
vaguely aware of Sam yelling his name, and then arms supporting him 
as the world started to tilt. The rest was a blur.

~*~

It had been a while since Sam had prayed. But he was praying now.

He'd been worried about his boss all day. Ginger had taken one look at 
Toby that morning and come hunting for the deputy communications 
director. She had said that he looked awful, and Sam had promptly gone 
to see for himself. She was right. She had also said that he told her 
he was fine and basically ordered her to back off. He got the same. 
His busy schedule for the day had essentially forced him to comply; he 
hadn't even seen Toby after the staff meeting until he had come into 
his office two hours earlier to work on the speech.

At that point he was shocked by his boss's appearance. He was almost 
as white as his shirt and sweating, though Sam thought his office was 
a bit cool. But Toby was his usual stubborn self, so Sam let it go and 
resigned himself to doing as much of the speech as possible and taking 
some of the weight off Toby. If he had any doubt that his boss was 
sick, it was gone when they took their short break and Toby had yet 
to criticize his punctuation. But he thought it might be the flu; he 
had no idea...

He was saying something about gun control when he noticed Toby wasn't 
even making an effort to listen. And more importantly, he was rubbing 
his chest and had an expression of pain on his face. He heard the fear 
creep into his voice as he asked, "Toby?"

Toby looked up at him, then at his own hand, then back at him. He 
opened his mouth, but said nothing. His eyes had taken a slightly 
gazed look. 

"Toby!" Sam was off the couch and around the desk in time to break 
Toby's fall from the chair. He eased them both to the floor and 
supported Toby against his chest. "Toby? Tell me what's going on," he 
said, attempting to keep the panic he was feeling out of his voice. He 
got no response, though his boss was still conscious and now clutching 
his chest as he struggled to breathe. 

He tried to reach for the phone, but couldn't do it from his position. 
"Ginger!" Sam screamed. The assistant was in the room a few short 
seconds later, but to Sam they were an eternity. She gasped when she 
saw them. "Ginger, call 911. See if you can get the First Lady down 
here." He was amazed at how calm his voice sounded. He felt as if his 
racing heart was going to burst out of his chest, but he knew he had 
to keep it together for Toby. 

"What do I tell them?" Ginger asked in a tremulous voice.

"I think he might be having a heart attack." He spared a glance at her 
and noticed the color draining from her face. "Ginger, go." She nodded 
and turned to sprint from the room. "See if Josh is still here too, 
okay?" he added as an afterthought. He knew CJ and Leo had already 
gone, but Josh had still been working a half-hour earlier. And Josh knew Sam was worried about Toby, so he was probably hanging around.

"Sam?" Toby's weak voice drew his attention. 

Sam wrapped his arms around his boss, trying to comfort. "I'm right 
here, Toby."

Toby choked out between struggling breaths; "It hurts."

Sam held him a little tighter. "Your chest?" Toby gave a weak nod 
against Sam's chest. "Okay, just try to breathe. Help's on the way; 
you're going to be all right."

Ginger darted back into the office. "Ambulance is on the way, Josh is 
coming, I'm going to find Mrs. Bartlet," she huffed out, and then was 
gone again.

That left Sam and Toby alone in what was probably one of the most 
agonizing times in both their lives. Toby struggled to breathe and 
stay conscious through the pain while Sam felt helpless. He didn't 
know if he was supposed to be doing something else or not. As it was, 
all he could do was support him and hold on to him. He found himself 
gently rubbing Toby's back and telling him to breathe, repeatedly 
saying that everything was going to be all right. It was as much to 
calm himself as Toby. And he had no idea if it was true.

Josh came bursting in moments later. It took him a few seconds to 
locate them on the floor. Sam heard him gasp, then he dropped down 
beside them. "Toby? Sam, what's going on? Ginger just said you needed 
me."

"There's an ambulance coming. He says his chest hurts," Sam kept his 
tone even, though he knew his fear probably showed in his eyes. Josh 
held his gaze for a moment then nodded slightly and gave Sam's 
shoulder a reassuring squeeze. However, he was beginning to look 
scared as well.

There were a few more agonizing minutes before the First Lady arrived, 
Ginger trailing behind. Josh moved to the side so she could crouch 
beside Toby and Sam. "Hey, Toby, I hear you're not feeling your usual 
cheerful self," Abby said conversationally as she reached to take his 
pulse. Sam shifted him slightly so Toby's back was leaning against 
his chest and she could reach him more easily. Toby groaned, but 
didn't answer her. Sam described what had happened and she nodded, 
still exuding nothing but a calm demeanor. She loosened and removed 
his tie, then unbuttoned the top few buttons to ease his breathing.

Over to the side, Josh had moved to Ginger and placed a comforting 
arm around the distressed woman. Abby continued speaking to Toby. "I 
just need you to try and breathe as normally as you can, Toby. Sam 
here says you're having chest pain. Is that right?" 

He nodded and added; "My arm..hurts...too." Abby nodded and began 
rubbing his arm to counter the pain. "Just try to relax, Sam and I 
have got you. The ambulance is on the way, right?" She addressed the 
last comment to Ginger and Josh, but received her answer from outside 
as the sounds of an approaching siren reached their ears.

Josh suggested Ginger go to meet the paramedics and make sure they 
could get past security. She jumped at the chance, needing to feel 
useful. He remained, shoving the desk aside so they would have better 
access to Toby. 

Sam continued to hold his boss, arms wrapped protectively around him. 
Abby glanced up from her patient to his deputy, who was looking a 
little pale himself. "You're doing fine, Sam," she consoled in her 
even tone. He nodded slightly, not very convincingly, in response. 
She gave him a look and started to say something more, but the 
paramedics arrived just then.

Abby explained the situation and answered their questions. Sam, for 
his part, was reluctant to let go of his boss, but didn't complain 
when they eased him out of his grasp. He caught Toby's hand and 
squeezed it once before moving out of the way. He watched the 
rescuers' efforts as if he were in a fog. They gave him oxygen, took 
his blood pressure, and went through some other procedures before 
loading him onto the stretcher. He heard Abby ask which hospital they 
were going to and tell them that they would follow, and then they were 
out the door. Abby followed soon after, going to tell the President 
and then head to the hospital with her agents. After receiving an 
affirmative nod from Josh in answer to her questioning glance at Sam, 
she took a shaken Ginger with her.

"Sam?" He shook himself out of his shocked state to find Josh now 
staring at him in concern. "I'm okay," he insisted. 

"Okay. C'mon, we'll take my car." Josh wrapped a supportive arm around 
his shoulder and steered him towards the door. "He'll be okay, Sam," 
he threw in quietly.

As the two friends headed after the paramedics, Sam gave another 
unconvincing nod. He found himself praying again.

He knew that this particular nightmare was just beginning.
~*~
He had been wrong. Waiting in the office hadn't been the most 
agonizing time in his life. The ride to the hospital was quickly 
claiming that title. Despite that he knew Toby was now in the hands of 
people who could help him, this was harder for Sam because he was no 
longer with him. He couldn't see that his boss was still breathing 
and fighting to stay with them; couldn't try to offer comfort. If it 
was possible, he felt even more helpless now.

Josh was at his side, knuckles white from his tense grip on the wheel. 
He had spent the walk to the car trying to comfort Sam, but had 
apparently given up on that as his own emotions hit. He was now 
concentrating on keeping the ambulance in sight and the car in the 
correct lane as he broke just about every speed law of the district.

Sam was staring out the window looking deceptively calm. The only sign 
of his true emotions was the fist he had clenched in his lap, nails 
digging into the tender skin of his palm. He knew he should pick up 
the phone-call Leo and CJ, maybe Toby's ex-wife Andi-but he couldn't 
bring himself to move. He was trying not to think at all, instead 
focusing on the dull pain he was inflicting on his hand and the 
streetlights flying by outside.

It was weird. In their jobs, they dealt with crises every day. Some 
were minor and mundane; others were major and sometimes emotionally 
wracking. And they always handled them. But personal crises, things 
that affected him and the people he cared about, always hit Sam hard. 
His Dad's affair, for example. Finding out had torn him apart 
emotionally, and though it had nothing directly to do with the job or 
the rest of his personal life in DC, it had seeped in to everything. 
He had eventually coped, with some help from his friends. 

But this-how could he even begin to cope with this? Toby was a huge 
part of his life. He never would have believed that could happen a 
few years ago when they had first started working together. Their 
relationship had been, well, strained. And that was on a good day. 
He knew Toby saw him as a green kid who had to be led through 
everything, and he has seen Toby as an overbearing jerk. Forced to 
work together, they had eventually found a way to get along and 
appreciate each other's talents. And, somewhere along the way, 
they had even become friends. 

He felt sorry for the people who only saw Toby's gruff and 
condescending side. There was a lot more there. It just took time to 
get past his emotional walls.

Sam couldn't imagine things any different. Couldn't grasp the idea of 
Toby's role changing, and couldn't even begin to deal with the concept 
of Toby not being there at all. He had to be okay. He just had to.

~*~

Josh was surprised by the lack of activity in the ER. Granted, he had 
been a little preoccupied during his last trip through, but it still 
seemed slow. It turned out that it was being purposely emptied, what 
with the President and First Lady coming in, even if they were just 
visitors this time.

It all brought back memories he would just as soon forget. But he 
pushed them aside. He knew Sam had seemed so calm in the office 
because he had been keeping it together for Toby's sake. Now he 
needed to be strong for Sam, whatever the outcome and whatever he was 
feeling himself. 

He wasn't all that surprised that President Bartlet would be joining 
them. The senior staff was a little family in and of themselves, 
however dysfunctional they might sometimes be. And the President 
treated them as an extension of his own family. He'd been at Josh's 
side in the recovery room. However irritated he managed to make the 
secret service, he would be there when one of them was in trouble.

The question now was exactly how much trouble Toby was in. He and Sam 
had followed the paramedics in as far as the hospital staff would 
allow. Now they were forced to wait. 

Sam's silence was becoming unnerving. Josh knew his best friend pretty 
well, and he knew that Sam was upset and scared. He wished he'd talk 
about it, cry about it or even blow up at him-anything but internalize 
it. But that was Sam's way. He'd try to deal with it alone. Josh 
stopped pacing the waiting room to drop into the seat beside the 
younger man and stare at him openly in concern. Sam didn't react. 

Josh didn't even want to think about what Toby's death could do to 
Sam. They were closer than most people saw, and certainly more than he 
ever would have predicted. He couldn't think of a better word to 
describe it than brotherly. Not that they would ever admit that to 
anyone, least of all each other, but he could see it. They argued like 
brothers, but also had stuck together through some serious conflict 
and even stood up for each other occasionally. The great Toby Ziegler, 
who had originally resented being saddled with this kid, now had a 
tendency to be rather protective of him. And Sam reciprocated that 
tenfold. They cared about each other. Losing Toby would be a major 
blow to Sam, to all of them, one that Josh wasn't sure they would 
recover from.

He broke off his thoughts when the waiting room door opened to admit a 
couple of Secret Service agents who were soon followed by the 
President and First Lady. He stood. When Sam didn't even react, he 
nudged him, then reached down and gently grasped his arm, prepared to 
haul him to his feet. But he caught the President's eye as he shook 
his head. He let go of Sam's arm and settled his hand on his friend's 
shoulder.

"How is he doing?" the President asked quietly as he walked over to 
them.

That brought a reaction from Sam. He looked up and noticed who had 
joined them, then shot to his feet. Luckily, Josh had noticed the 
pale countenance he had worn since they left the office, and was 
prepared to grab him when his legs refused to hold him up. He held 
onto his friend while he gained his equilibrium and President Bartlet, 
now worried about more than one of his staffers, crossed to Sam's 
other side and also took a gentle hold of his arm.

"I'm sorry, sir," Sam said softly. Mrs. Bartlet had crossed the room 
to get some water, and she motioned for Josh to sit Sam down. He eased 
his friend back to his seat and kept a supportive arm around him as 
he and the President sat on either side of him.

"Don't apologize, Sam. It's all right." They all heard the double 
meaning in that statement as the President squeezed the young man's 
shoulder. Abby knelt in front of him and handed him the cup, steadying 
it when his hands shook. She studied him for a moment. Apparently 
satisfied that he would be okay, she looked to Josh. "Have they told 
you anything?"

"Not yet," he responded. She nodded, then stood. "I'll see what I can 
find out. Keep him sitting," she cautioned as she walked away. Sam 
drank his water obediently, and Josh thought he saw a bit of color 
coming back to his friend.

A few minutes later Josh reached for the now empty cup in Sam's hands 
and set it aside. Then he fixed his gaze on the door, absently 
rubbing the back of Sam's neck. The three of them waited in silence; 
each lost in their own thoughts of the Communications Director.

~*~

Sam kept wishing someone would wake him from this nightmare. Almost 
passing out in front of the President was tons of fun in and of 
itself, but the dizziness had also contributed to the surreal feeling 
he had been experiencing. The water combined with the President's 
grip on his shoulder and Josh's soothing hand on his neck helped him 
to reestablish his anchor to reality. If only reality weren't so 
harsh.

He heard Josh ask over his head where Ginger had gone. The President 
responded that she was calling the others and would join them soon.

When Abby came back into the room accompanied by a doctor, the three 
of them tensed. Sam started to stand, but thought better of that when 
he considered his last attempt. The President stood instead, but 
motioned for Josh to stay with Sam.

"This is Dr. Burke," she said quietly. "He'll tell you what's been 
going on and what's going to happen." She nodded to the tall, 
dark-haired man beside her. Sam tried to read her expression, but 
couldn't. He gave up and looked to the doctor.

Dr. Burke gave them what was probably supposed to be a comforting 
smile. All it did for Sam was make him more nervous. He nodded to the 
President, who Sam could tell was trying to hide impatience as he 
asked him to please tell them what was going on.

"Mr. Ziegler has had a mild heart attack." Sam felt his heart skip a 
beat and Josh's hand on his neck tighten almost painfully. Though 
he had suspected a heart attack, having it confirmed still hit hard. 
The doctor continued, "We're taking him up to Cardiology now. I'm 
going to perform a balloon angioplasty to reopen the artery and 
insert a stent-" he noticed that the three of them seemed a bit 
confused and looked to Mrs. Bartlet "-do you want me to explain the 
procedure, or would you prefer to?" 

She responded that she would and thanked him before telling him to go 
and take good care of Toby. He turned back to the three men before he 
left, "You all can make whatever arrangement you need to and move 
upstairs to the waiting room. I'll be seeing you in a couple of 
hours." He gave them that smile again and headed back to his patient. 
Sam stared after him for a moment before looking to the First Lady.

She sat down across from them and President Bartlet resettled beside 
Sam. "I always thought 'mild heart attack' was a bit of an oxymoron,"
 he said to his wife.

Sam shifted his neck slightly to loosen Josh's death grip on him. 
"But mild is good right? I mean, he's going to be okay, right?"

"The odds are in his favor," she responded. "This procedure is fairly 
common now, Dr. Burke has done dozens himself. They've located the 
blockage-that's what interrupted the blood flow to the heart and 
caused the attack. He will use a catheter to insert the balloon into 
that artery and inflate it to push the plaque that is blocking it 
against the artery walls; " she used her hands to demonstrate as she 
spoke. "Then when they remove the balloon, they will insert a stent 
in that place to hold the artery wall open. If all goes well, it 
should only take a couple of hours."

Sam processed the information. Though his brain was trying to form 
about a hundred different questions, he could only get one together 
coherently. And even though he knew he sounded like a scared little 
boy, he still asked, "Then he'll be okay, right?"

Abby gave him an encouraging smile and patted his knee as Josh 
replaced the hand on his neck, gentler this time. "He'll have to stay 
at least overnight and take it easy for a few weeks. He'll also have 
to adhere to a stricter diet and exercise program; but yes, Sam. 
Assuming the surgery goes well, he should recover completely."

There was a collective sigh of relief from the three men. She allowed 
them a few moments before regaining their attention. "There is going 
to be some talk of his stress levels. We'll need to help lessen them 
if we can and keep him calmer-but this is Toby we're talking about, 
and he does work at the White House. This recovery may be hard for 
him.." she trailed off and shook her head. "We can talk about that 
later. Let's move upstairs and get through the surgery first."

As they waited for the Secret Service to orchestrate their movement to 
the Cardiology waiting room, Ginger joined them and Mrs. Bartlet 
explained to her what was going on. Sam felt a certain amount of 
relief at the positive outlook, but he knew he wouldn't feel at ease 
until after the surgery when he actually got to see Toby and confirm 
it for himself. He followed the others upstairs and prepared himself 
for yet another, even longer wait.
~*~
Sam was torn. He couldn't decide if he hated hospitals or loved them.

He had spent the last two hours distracting himself from Toby's 
surgery by trying to write that speech in his head. At some point CJ 
had shown up, and then Leo. Both of them had attempted to start a 
conversation and comfort him, and while he appreciated their efforts, 
he really just wanted to be left alone to think. Intellectualizing the 
situation kept him at an emotional arm's length and prevented him 
from breaking down. So he was doing what he did best-taking a topic 
and forming ideas in his head that could build a powerful speech. 

On one hand, he loved hospitals. They did a lot of good and saved 
lives, and this particular one had given his best friend back to him. 
He certainly knew that hospitals were a great thing. But the other 
side of the argument was fueled by his feelings at that moment. And 
right then, he hated hospitals. He hated the sterile smell that made 
him nauseous. He hated the wrenching sounds of crying from loved ones 
in the hallways and waiting rooms. Most of all, he hated the waiting 
and the suffocating fear that went with it-not knowing if someone he 
cared about would make it or not. First Josh, and now Toby. 

Sam realized at that point that his emotions were getting to him and 
abruptly abandoned the hospital topic in search of a new one. Josh 
might be interesting. He cast a sideways glance at his best friend, 
then quickly looked away when he met Josh's concerned gaze. The deputy 
chief of staff hadn't been more than three feet from Sam all night. 
Like he thought he was going to break or something. 

Though they were best friends, Josh had a tendency to go into big 
brother mode sometimes and get rather overprotective. But tonight he 
wasn't pushing; he was simply being there for him. And while the 
concerned glances were getting to him a bit, Sam was actually quite 
grateful for the silent support. Josh knew what he needed. It made him 
realize how much he had missed Josh the last time he had dealt with a 
waiting room.

Okay, that topic was also too emotional. Maybe he should just think 
about the weather. That seemed safe.

So he spent the next fifteen minutes mentally mapping the last month 
in the weather of Washington D.C. It was rather boring, but at least 
he didn't feel like he was going to cry over a cloudy day.

When Dr. Burke finally entered the room, Sam felt like days had 
passed. He jumped to his feet along with the rest of his friends. 
They crowded around the doctor, anxiously awaiting what they hoped 
would be good news.

Dr. Burke didn't keep them waiting. "He made it through the surgery." 
There was a collective sigh of relief, along with several ecstatic 
smiles and hugs. Sam could almost feel a physical pressure lifting 
from him, and decided that perhaps he didn't hate hospitals as much 
as he thought.

Dr. Burke gave them a moment before continuing, "It went very well. 
He's in recovery now." 

"So what happens next?" Leo asked.

"He'll have to remain still for the next few hours, and we will want 
to keep him for observation for a couple of days. We'll be moving him 
to a private room later today." Sam looked at the clock and realized 
that it was past midnight. 

"When can we see him?" President Bartlet asked.

"He isn't conscious yet. Let's allow him some rest, and I'll keep 
close tabs on him. I'll let you know as soon as it is possible see 
him, Mr. President." Sam wondered if Dr. Burke would be so 
accommodating if he were talking to anyone else. There were definite 
advantages in working for the President.

So they got to wait again. Sam allowed himself to smile and accept 
the others' joyful hugs, feeling considerably better, but still 
needing to see Toby before he could totally believe it.

~*~

When Toby awoke to the bright lights, he wondered briefly if he was 
dead. That fear was erased when a rather un-angelic nurse came into 
his line of vision. "Please lie still, Mr. Ziegler," she said. "Do 
you know where you are?"

He looked around as best he could and fought with his uncooperative 
tongue for a few moments before croaking out, "Hospital?"

He watched as she nodded in confirmation, then heard a door open and 
her call out to the new arrival, "He's awake, doctor."

She stepped aside and another face appeared, this one a man in 
hospital scrubs. "Mr. Ziegler, I'm Dr. Burke. Do you remember what 
happened?"

Did he remember? His brain was pretty foggy, he recalled being in his 
office with Sam and not feeling well, then pain...oh yeah, he 
remembered. "I was having chest pains," he responded.

"Yes. You had a mild heart attack," the doctor replied gently. "We did 
an angioplasty to reopen your artery. You're in the recovery room 
now. The surgery went very well," he said. He looked at something 
the nurse handed him and nodded. "I need you to lie still. The 
insertion point from the catheter will be sore. I'll be back in a few 
minutes," he paused and gave Toby a smile. "I have the President of 
the United States in my waiting room, and I promised him prompt 
updates. You just relax and rest." He then spoke with the nurse for a 
moment before leaving.

Toby was soon alone with his thoughts. The fact that he had had a 
heart attack didn't register as much as he thought it should. But he 
shoved that aside and pondered the idea that the President was waiting
for news on his health. That meant the entire staff was probably out 
there. Brilliant. 

And knowing President Bartlet, he would bully the doctor into letting 
them see him. He wasn't really feeling up to visitors.

But as he thought back on what little he remembered, he decided that 
he did need to see Sam. He had scared him. He didn't like the 
expression of fear that had been being etched on his deputy's face. It 
was reminiscent of the look he'd worn when Josh had been shot. He was 
immensely glad that Sam had been there to help him, but he wished the 
young man hadn't been forced to go through it with him.

He let his mind wander. He found himself thinking of a conversation 
he'd had with CJ a few weeks earlier. He didn't even know what they 
had been talking about now, except that Sam had somehow factored in. 
But he recalled that at one point she had forgone a retort and 
instead given him an annoying smile. He had indignantly asked what 
was so funny, and she had responded, "Nothing, I just think it's 
sweet." To which he had growled, "I'm not sweet. What are you talking 
about?" She had simply smiled wider and said, "You're so protective. 
Like his big brother. It's sweet." He had rolled his eyes and changed 
the subject. But he had no retort-he knew it was true. He just saw no 
need to admit that to her.

Now he was lying here, he'd just had a heart attack, and he was 
worried about Sam. Granted, he'd had pain medication and was feeling 
next to nothing himself, but still. What had happened to his gruff, 
untouchable image?

~*~

Sam hadn't sat down since the doctor had left. He knew that he was now 
running on pure adrenaline and if he relaxed, he would crash. And he 
couldn't crash until he'd seen Toby.

No one had left. They were more talkative and the mood was 
considerably less somber, but they all wanted to wait until they 
confirmed for themselves that the communications director would be 
all right.

CJ came up to him as he was standing, staring up at the television 
that was broadcasting a 24-hour news channel. She slipped an arm 
around him, and he turned to give her a weak smile before turning 
back to the screen. "He's going to be fine, Sam," she whispered. 
She was silent a moment, then asked, "You were with him?"

He nodded, but still stared at the screen. Though he had been 
watching for a while, he had no idea what was being discussed. When he 
didn't respond, she continued, "Are you okay?"
"I'm not the one who had a heart attack," he snapped. She pulled 
back, and he realized with a start how harsh he had sounded. "CJ, I'm 
sorry-"

"It's okay, Sam."

"I'm just tired-" 

She cut him off and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Really, Sam, it's 
okay. We're all worried."

He nodded and allowed her to hug him before she went back to her 
seat. Josh approached him then, but smartly avoided asking if he was 
all right. He simply squeezed his shoulder and stood beside him as 
they both turned to stare at the TV.

It was about ten minutes later that Dr. Burke reentered the room. 
They all crowded around him as they had earlier, and listened as he 
said, "He is awake. You can see him now if you like, but only for a 
moment. And only a couple of you," he threw in when they all started 
towards the door. "We don't want to overwhelm him, he's still a bit 
out of it."

They looked at each other. The President solved their dilemma by 
commanding softly, "Josh, take Sam." Sam cast him a grateful look as 
he and Josh turned to follow Dr. Burke. 

Leo added, "Tell him we're all out here, rooting for him." Josh looked 
back at his boss and nodded, then took his place at Sam's side as he 
walked towards the recovery room.

~*~

Toby jerked awake when he heard the doctor approaching and realized 
that he must have drifted off. He turned his head slightly to see him, 
and gave a small smile when he saw that he wasn't alone. 
"Mr. Ziegler, I brought you some visitors. I know you aren't feeling 
well, so they won't stay long." Burke nodded to the two men behind 
him, then moved aside to give them some privacy.

Sam looked relieved. Maybe a little pale. He gave Toby a tentative 
smile, but stopped a few feet from the bed. Josh, meanwhile, was 
beaming at him. He came right to him, circling the bed so Sam could 
have one side. He gently gripped Toby's hand. "How are you doing 
Toby? You scared us, you know."

"I'm okay," he said weakly. Then he focused on his deputy. "I'm not 
contagious, Sam, " he teased, then managed to raise his hand and reach 
out for him. Sam came at the silent invitation, as if he'd needed to 
feel welcome. He took Toby's other hand, squeezing lightly. "You look 
awful," he blurted, then blushed lightly and looked down, ashamed at 
his blunt comment.

Toby gave his hand a weak squeeze in return. "I don't doubt it. But 
the doctor says the surgery went well," he said quietly. He had a lot 
more that he wanted to say, but his dry mouth wasn't cooperating well 
with his brain, and he couldn't remember a time when simply talking 
had required so much energy. He swallowed a few times and gathered his 
strength before joking, "How did you two get in here before the 
President? I don't need to worry about him being the next patient 
do I?"

Josh laughed, and Sam managed a small smile. It was Josh who 
responded, "Everyone's still in one piece, we just happen to be very 
important and influential people," conveniently leaving out what Toby 
suspected was the real reason-President Bartlet knew Sam needed to go 
and that Josh was best suited to help him through it. Josh continued, 
"Everyone is out there. Leo wanted me to tell you that we're all here 
for you."

Toby gave him a weak smile. "Thanks." 

Dr. Burke interrupted then, "I'm sorry gentlemen, but Mr. Ziegler 
needs to rest now. You can all visit later when he's moved to his own 
room."

Josh and Sam nodded and prepared to go. Before Sam could remove his 
hand from Toby's, the older man gave his too-quiet deputy another 
squeeze. Sam met his eyes in response and said seriously, "I'm glad 
you're okay, Toby. I'll come back later." But his smile didn't reach 
his eyes, and as they moved away, Toby called Josh back for a moment. 
Sam had moved out of earshot.

"Josh, is he-"

Josh cut him off and flashed him a knowing smile. "You just 
concentrate on getting well. I'll keep an eye on him." He patted Toby 
lightly on the arm before following Sam out, leaving Toby wondering, 
'Am I really that easy to read?'

His next thoughts included wondering when the pain medication was 
going to wear off and exactly how bad that was going to be. He soon 
realized that while the emergency was over, he still had a ways to 
go before he had his life back to normal.

~*~
Sam had all new respect for Toby.

Three days had passed since the surgery, and Toby was recovering well 
and getting his strength back. He would be released from the hospital 
later that afternoon. Since it was Saturday, Sam had managed to 
arrange it so he could be the one to pick him up and take him home. 
He was looking forward to it; he had only been able to see Toby once 
since he and Josh had gone to the recovery room, and his boss had 
slept through that whole visit.

As for Sam, he was running on empty. Despite that it was the weekend, 
he was spending the morning at work, as there was still work that had 
to be done. His all-new respect for Toby came from his all-new respect 
for the incredible job Toby did. It was harder than he made it look. 
Or perhaps Sam was struggling with it so much because he was trying to 
do both of their jobs. Either way, the last three days had been 
exhausting. With the fact that what little sleep he had gotten had 
been restless and the worry he still felt for Toby added to the 
pressures at work, all his energy had been sapped.

He knew things would get better when Toby came back, but mostly 
because he wouldn't worry so much about his boss and could hopefully 
sleep better. He still had to take some of the weight of the job off 
of Toby. There was no way he was putting Toby at any risk for another 
heart attack if he could help prevent it. 

He glanced at his watch and began packing up. He had thought he would 
be able to go home to shower, change, and eat something before 
heading to the hospital, but he would now be lucky to drive through a 
fast food place before was late. Mrs. Bartlet had come to speak with 
him that morning and thrown his schedule off. He didn't mind; he 
wanted to hear what she had to say about Toby's health and how he 
could help. She had told him that the doctor would be instructing Toby 
about diet, exercise, and medication, as well as handling stress and 
warning signs that he shouldn't ignore. When Sam had asked for 
details, she understood that he was asking what he could do and had 
told him the best thing was just to be there for him-offer to help and 
encourage him that he could come to Sam if he was feeling overwhelmed.

As he headed out the door trying to balance an overflowing briefcase, 
he thought of how she had been concerned about his health, as well. He 
had brushed it off, saying he was fine. She had looked doubtful, but 
had let it go after a few minutes. Josh had been hovering lately too, 
leading Sam to conclude that he must look as tired as he felt. But he 
was fine.

He had convinced himself of that, anyhow. He just needed some rest. 
And he needed to see Toby looking closer to his normal self, instead 
of lying in a hospital bed.

When he reached the car, he dumped his briefcase in the backseat, 
symbolically closing off thoughts of work for the rest of the day. 
Then he climbed behind the wheel and headed for the hospital.

~*~

Yesterday, Josh had joked to Toby that he knew he was getting well 
because the nurses had become wary of coming to his room. Toby smiled
at the memory of the comment as his current nurse practically ran for 
the door, reminiscent of Ginger after her first day with him. He knew 
he should have been more patient with her, but it comforted him that 
he was still able to intimidate people. 

He was going stir-crazy in that hospital room. He was more than ready 
to leave. He actually didn't feel all that bad, perhaps because he had 
expected it to be much worse. He was still tired and a bit weak, but 
he could cope with that. By far, the worst part of the experience had 
been the attack itself. As he had no desire for a repeat performance, 
he'd listened carefully to all his lectures from the doctor and the 
First Lady and had full intention of obeying. 

Everyone else had put in their thoughts as well, from the President's 
athletic recommendations to Ginger's low-cholesterol recipes and 
everything in between. The only person who'd simply told him to get 
better and left it at that was Josh, whom he had thus felt comfortable 
laughing about the others with. For example, did he really want to 
take the advice of someone who ran his bicycle into a tree? And he 
couldn't cook anything edible before, so how would he manage to 
stomach something healthy that he tried to cook?

It was painfully obvious that one person was missing from his advice 
list. He had been told that Sam had been there one night when he was 
asleep, but he had yet to actually see him. He had grilled Josh about 
that for a full fifteen minutes. The deputy chief of staff insisted 
that his friend was fine, just very busy trying to run the 
communications department by himself. "I promised I'd look after him, 
didn't I?" Josh had said with a smile. "He's tired, but I think he'll 
be okay once things settle down. He wants to come and see you; he just 
hasn't been able to get away during the day. Helping run the country 
and all that."

He was happy to learn that Sam would be picking him up today. He 
missed the kid. And the last thing he wanted was an overworked and 
stressed out Sam. At least this way, he knew his deputy wouldn't just 
keep working and completely miss the weekend.

About a half-hour left before Sam was scheduled to come, he had begun 
dressing himself in the comfortable clothes that Josh had brought 
from his apartment so that he would be ready to go. It took 
considerably longer than normal, but he managed. Now he was standing 
by the window appreciating the sunny day, much to the chagrin of the 
poor nurse who had just left after attempting to warn him that he was 
going to be too tired to walk up to his apartment when he got home.

He crossed back to the bed and sat on the edge, flipping on the TV to 
check out the political happenings he had missed out on. He was about 
ten minutes in when the door opened.

His first glimpse of his deputy made him consider throttling Josh. 
Tired was an understatement-he had circles under his eyes, his clothes 
were actually rumpled, and he looked exhausted. Josh called this 
taking care of him?

But when Sam's eyes met his, his whole face lit up with his smile. 
Toby smiled back and rose to meet him. "Hey, Toby. You look great! 
Well, not great exactly, but a lot better-"

Toby cut him off with, "Sam, you're eventually going to learn to quit 
while you're ahead." He gave an exasperated sigh, but his smile 
betrayed his words. "I still have so much to teach you."

Sam sobered abruptly at that. "Yeah, you do," he said quietly, in all 
seriousness.

Toby was trying to figure out the sudden mood swing when a nurse 
appeared at the door with a wheelchair. He eyed it warily, then her. 
She looked a bit frightened. He wondered briefly if she had drawn a 
short straw, and then decided to take pity on both her and Sam and 
just get in the chair. She looked surprised and pleased; he looked 
shocked.

"Are you sure he's ready to go home?" Sam addressed the nurse. 
"Because that isn't exactly normal behavior-"

"Sam-" Toby cut in warningly. Sam flashed him another smile, and 
again, he couldn't help but smile back. "Let's just get out of here 
while you still have a job, okay?"

~*~

Sam had never actually been to Toby's apartment. He sincerely hoped 
there weren't too many stairs. Toby had shocked him by getting into 
the wheelchair without complaint, and while it probably had something 
to do with feeling sorry for the way he'd treated the nurses, Sam 
could see that he was also still weak and tired.

He was surprised that Toby hadn't asked about work. Personally, Sam 
was rather sick of it and happy not to think about it for the 
afternoon. But he had expected Toby to want an update and probably 
even criticize him for everything he had done wrong. Instead, his 
boss seemed content to look out the passenger window and enjoy the 
sun and sights. It was so out of character, Sam was a little 
unnerved. 

"So-" Sam was unsure of what to say. His boss was in an unusually 
good mood, especially for someone who had spent the last three days 
confined to a hospital room. He didn't know if Toby would want to 
talk about the attack and surgery or not, and he didn't want to upset 
him. But now Toby was looking at him expectantly, so he had to say 
something. "-Uh-nice weather we're having, huh?" he finished lamely. 
Well, that was a great save, Seaborn, he thought sarcastically.

Toby raised his eyebrows and briefly gave him his 'are you sure your 
IQ was high enough for law school' look. But it lacked its usual 
annoyance; in fact, he looked rather amused. "Yes, Sam, it's a 
pretty day. And I have to say, I have an all-new appreciation for 
pretty days."

He paused to tell Sam which way to turn. As Sam waited out the 
traffic, he took a few moments to think about that comment, and was 
hit with a realization about his boss's behavior. Toby had had a 
frightening experience that had most likely brought him closer to 
death than he'd ever been. Those types of things tend to make a person 
reevaluate his life, and it looked like Toby's was making him 
appreciate the things around him that he had taken for granted. Sam 
couldn't help but smile at that thought-it ought to make life with 
Toby interesting for awhile. Maybe he'd even get a raise if Toby 
started to appreciate him more.

He pulled the car into a parking place near the apartment building 
Toby had directed him to, then looked over to him as he unbuckled his 
seatbelt. "You feel up to this?"

Toby gave him another smile, though this one held a bit of insecurity. 
"Sure. I'm fine."

But Sam could hear the doubt that crept into the words, and he hurried 
around to help him from the car. Toby accepted a hand to get out, but 
shrugged him off before they headed in. "I'm not an invalid, Sam. I 
can manage." Now that sounded like his Toby.

And he did manage most of the way. But there were a few stairs, and 
they took most of his energy. He was breathing hard by the time they 
reached the top. Sam stayed a step behind in case he faltered, and 
when he paused, Sam took gentle hold of his arm. Toby glanced at him, 
as if trying to decide whether to admit he needed help or not. Sam 
saved him the trouble and simply slipped a supportive arm around his 
back. "C'mon. We're almost there."

Toby met his eyes and studied him for a moment, then nodded. Sam 
helped him down the hall. He handed Sam his keys and let him unlock 
the door, and even let him help him to the couch, where he settled 
in.

Sam didn't know how much Toby would be able to do for himself and how 
much he would need help with. But he planned on staying until he was 
sure he would be all right.

"Do you need anything? Want me to fix you something to eat? Or--"

"Sam, I'm okay. I just need to rest." Sam nodded and remained standing 
awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Toby watched him for a moment, then 
nodded to a nearby chair and said, "Why don't you sit, Sam. You look 
like you could use some rest, too." When Sam began to shake his head, 
he added, "You can watch TV. Maybe later I'll be hungry enough to risk 
letting you cook."

Well, if Toby might need him later-it couldn't hurt to sit for a 
minute. Besides, there was a game on. He sat and turned the volume 
down low. Toby was soon asleep. Sam wondered how long it would be 
before he was back to his normal energy levels and temperament, if 
ever. He silently reaffirmed his promise to himself that he would do 
everything he could to help Toby get through this.

While he still had some cause to worry, he could at least see that 
Toby was starting to heal, and he didn't feel quite as much weighing 
on his mind. And while he had intended to stay awake in case he was 
needed, his exhaustion soon overcame him. So Sam slept as well, 
accomplishing a little healing of his own.
~*~
When Toby woke, the room was completely dark with the exception of the 
light emitting from the television set. His sleep-muddled mind slowly 
registered that the late news was on, so it must be close to midnight. 
He hauled himself into a sitting position, realizing that he had 
slept the entire afternoon away. He rubbed at his eyes, and then 
looked around in the dim light projected from the screen. What he 
found made him smile affectionately.

On the recliner next to the couch his deputy still slept. He had 
certainly been right about Sam being tired; if the poor kid had slept 
this long he probably hadn't slept at all the past few nights. Sam 
had curled up on his side and was nestled comfortably against the 
back of the chair. He looked so young and innocent. No wonder he 
brings out everyone's protective streaks, Toby thought. Of course, no 
one is worse than I am.

He could have sat there all night trying to figure out exactly when he 
had started to care for Sam like a little brother, but he realized 
that he was fairly hungry. Not wanting to disturb the younger man, 
he opted not to turn on the lamp. He pushed himself to his feet, 
waited a moment to regain his equilibrium, and then started to make 
his way towards the kitchen.

Now, this was his apartment, he had lived there for a few years, and 
he really ought to know it well enough to navigate in the dark. But 
since he still wasn't up to par, that didn't hold true. He misjudged 
the distance needed to round the cook-island safely. Realizing his 
mistake too late, he slammed into it, resulting in a loud clang 
from a falling pot and a strangled gasp from him.

Behind him, Sam awoke with a start and, confused by the unfamiliar 
surroundings, promptly tumbled off the chair and slammed his shoulder 
into the coffee table. He sat there for a moment, stunned, then said 
simply, "Ow."

Toby, meanwhile, had braced his hands on the counter and was 
struggling to breathe normally as his body complained from the harsh 
treatment. He heard, rather than saw, Sam climb painfully to his feet 
and gasp as he realized what was going on. The lights came on and 
then Sam was beside him, gripping his arms to support him. "Are you 
okay? What were you doing?! Are you in pain?" he asked frantically, 
eyes filled with worry.

Toby took a few breaths before responding, "I'm alright, Sam," though 
he felt himself leaning into the offered support.

Sam shot him a look of disbelief. "Yeah, you look just fine," he said 
sarcastically, fear still evident in his voice. He then reached 
behind Toby and pulled out the nearby chair to help him settle into 
it.

Toby took some more breaths and relaxed. He really was all right; he 
just needed a minute to recover. When he was feeling better, he looked 
up to his deputy, expecting to still see the concerned blue eyes. 
Instead, Sam had apparently figured out that he wasn't in immediate 
danger of death, and now looked upset. And rather mad.

"Are you really okay?" Sam asked quietly, his voice trembling 
slightly. Toby nodded slowly, unsure of what to make of Sam's 
expression. "Oh, well, that's good," the younger man said. He paced a 
few steps away, then came back quickly, his voice rising with, "You 
scared the hell out of me! I'm here to help you, not sleep while you 
find a way to put yourself back in the hospital! You just had surgery, 
you idiot!" Sam finished his tirade, breathing hard, and then seemed 
to suddenly realize he had been yelling. The look in his eyes changed 
from anger to shock, and then remorse. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry," he said 
softly, almost meekly.

Toby, for his part, was staring at him in shock. Sam had been so 
helpful and cautious about upsetting him that afternoon, the last 
thing he had expected was an explosion like this. It really wasn't 
that big a deal, but Sam was reacting as if he had stepped outside 
to run a marathon instead of stepping into a piece of furniture. 

Something was eating at his deputy, something more than being 
overworked. He thought about what Sam had said. Then it dawned on him.

"I really scared you, didn't I?" he asked softly, more compassion and 
gentleness slipping into his voice than he would have been capable of 
with anyone except Sam. They both knew he wasn't just talking about 
his collision with a counter.

Sam abruptly looked away, studiously avoiding his gaze. He also 
avoided the question completely and said instead, "Just please, let me 
help you. That's why I'm here, I want to help. Please Toby," he turned 
pleading eyes back to his boss, "tell me what you need."

Toby watched him for a moment, trying to ignore the puppy-dog eyes. 
He decided to let the matter drop. For now. He and Sam obviously had 
some non-physical healing to do, but he wasn't yet up to the emotional 
ringer that conversation would put them both through. He needed to get 
his strength back first, and before that could happen, he needed to 
eat.

"There's some soup in the cabinet," he relented. "Even I can't screw 
up soup, so I figure you'll be safe with it too." He paused for a 
moment. "Right? I mean, you've never set fire to a kitchen heating 
soup, have you?" he teased in an obvious attempt to make them both 
comfortable again by returning to their typical friendly bantering.

Sam took the bait, rewarding him with a small smile that clearly said 
he knew what Toby was doing and appreciated it. As he went to pull a 
can from the specified cabinet, he shot back; "Do you really think I 
would tell you if I had?"

Toby growled, "Sam-" then tried to keep the stern face as he relished 
the answering laughter that had been too long absent.

~*~

Early Sunday afternoon, Josh was just hanging up after getting no 
answer at Sam's apartment when his cell phone rang before he could 
put it up. "Hello?"

"Josh, its Toby." 

Josh sprang to attention. He had been trying to call Sam to see how 
things had gone and how Toby was doing. Toby calling him was probably 
not a good thing. "Hi Toby. Two questions: are you okay, and what did 
Sam do now?"

"I'm fine. Well, not fine, but-you know. I'm getting there."

"Okay, I'm glad. So what did Sam do?"

Toby sighed. "Nothing, really. I mean, he picked me up, took me home, 
I slept most of the afternoon-I even managed to get Sam to rest, too. 
He needed it, he slept even longer then I did. But I kind of woke him 
up when I ran into something."

Josh had a feeling he wasn't getting the whole story. "Ran into 
something?"

"Well, it was dark, and I ran into it kind of hard. It hurt a little; 
mostly just took my breath for a minute. But Sam freaked out on me. 
He yelled. Loudly. At his boss. He called me an idiot."

Josh stared at the phone incredulously, though he knew Toby couldn't 
see him. "Sam? The same Sam who's been worried about you all week? Our 
Sam?"

"It's fine, Josh. He was as surprised as I was. But I think I 
understand why he did it; probably even more than he does. I'm going 
to have a nice long talk with him, but it'll probably have to wait 
until I come back to work. Just keep an eye on him, will you? Make 
sure he's not in over his head at work."

Josh couldn't help but smile. "A little overprotective there, aren't 
we?"

Toby huffed, "Look who's talking!"

"Okay, okay," Josh surrendered. "Are you by yourself now? Do you need 
anything?"

"I'm all right, " he said, but Josh could tell he was still weak. If 
his voice was any indication, the short conversation had sucked a good 
amount of his strength.

"Just take it easy, huh? We want you to get well."
~*~

Sam got back to his own apartment building late Sunday afternoon after 
leaving Toby's and running some errands that he hadn't had time to 
even think about during the week. 

After the one little episode, he and Toby had had a peaceful night. 
Toby had indulgently allowed him to do the cooking, clean up the 
kitchen, and even clean up the rest of the apartment. Not that he was 
the type of person who just loved to clean, but he felt an almost 
compulsive need to help however he could, and Toby seemed to get that. 

As for Toby, he was doing well enough that he felt up to being alone. 
But Sam had promised to check in on him, though he didn't know when he 
would find the time. Toby wasn't scheduled to come back to work for 
another two weeks. Sam hoped he could survive the duties of the 
communications department that long without collapsing himself.

He still couldn't believe he had yelled at Toby like that. The man had 
just had a heart attack; the last thing he needed was his deputy 
screaming at him and calling him an idiot. But he refused to think 
about why he had done it, instead promising himself he would never do 
it again and trying to forget about it. He pressed the key in the 
lock and opened the door.

"About time you got home."

Sam jumped about a foot and barely avoided yelping. He swung around. 
"Josh! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He realized what he 
had said and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Never mind, forget I 
said that. How did you get in here?"

Josh raised his eyebrows. "Your landlady's very nice."

"Josh!" His landlady was a very sweet eighty-year-old woman.

Josh shook his head at him, an amused smile on his face. "She 
recognized me, Sam. I have been here before. I told her a few stories 
about the President and promised not to steal anything."

Sam locked the door behind him and crossed the room to sit on the 
chair across from Josh. "And you went to all this trouble because-"

Josh was studying him with those concerned eyes he had been seeing so 
often lately. "I just wondered how it went with Toby."

Sam looked at him suspiciously. Josh could have called for that. 
"You talked to him, didn't you?" he accused.

Josh held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, he's my friend too. 
I was worried about him. Turns out, we're both a little worried about 
you."

Sam couldn't explain why, but that made him feel a little guilty. 
"Toby shouldn't be worried about me," he mumbled. "He should just 
worry about himself right now."

"Fine," Josh said, annoyingly cheerful. "I'll worry about you for 
both of us."

Sam glared at him, though there was no real force behind it.

Josh continued, "He just said you seemed exhausted. I wanted to make 
sure you're feeling okay."

"That's all he said?"

Josh didn't answer, and Sam assumed he knew more but wasn't going 
to push it. He was extremely grateful for that. "I'll be okay, Josh. 
I caught up on a lot of sleep last night."

Josh studied him for another moment, then nodded. "Okay. Make sure 
you get even more tonight, alright?"

Sam grinned at him. "Yes, Mom."

Josh returned the grin. "Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh?" He 
reached behind him for the couch's pillow and slammed Sam lightly 
in the head before pulling it back out of reach, preventing 
retaliation. He then stood, stepped forward, and pulled Sam to his 
feet. "Come on. I'll buy you an early dinner."

"It's not going to be soup, is it? 'Cause I can fix soup without even 
setting off a fire alarm."
~*~
The night before he was finally cleared to go back to work, Toby sat 
in front of his television, watching the news and contemplating the 
last few weeks. It was Monday, and by all rights he should have been 
back at work that morning, but instead he'd spent the day convincing 
his doctor that he was up to returning on Tuesday.

He had never known two weeks to go more slowly. The stronger he felt, 
the more restless he got. And it annoyed him to no end that his 
strength frequently tricked him, giving out quickly and without 
warning. He was fairly certain that he hadn't taken this many naps 
since he was two years old.

Still, each morning he got up to look out the window and feel 
inexplicably blessed to see the sun shining. He began to notice the 
birds that sang outside his apartment. He managed, on separate visits, 
to render both Josh and CJ speechless with his praise of the wonders 
of the world around them. He knew that what he was feeling was the 
result of his heart attack, and that it would probably pass. But he 
resolved to enjoy it while it lasted.

He'd had plenty of time on his hands to think back on the attack. It 
was almost more frightening in hindsight, because at the time he had 
been detached from what was happening. He had just known that he was 
in pain. But now, he remembered seeing the fear on Sam, Ginger, and 
Josh's faces. He realized Sam had stayed calm for him, but he 
remembered the First Lady reassuring both of them, and Sam's 
protective, supporting arms trembling against him. 

It had been bad. It could have been worse.

He refused to lose himself in that. The realization that this might 
have killed him had hit hard at first, but he had since focused on 
the fact that it hadn't. He had a second chance to appreciate life, 
and he fully intended to do just that. He would take care of himself. 

And while he was at it, he would let the people important in his life 
know that he appreciated them. The senior staff had been particularly 
great through his recovery. He hadn't realized what important fixtures 
they had become in each other's lives until he needed them so much. 
And they had come through.

He missed work. He knew it could be a major source of stress and that 
he had to learn to handle that stress more efficiently, but he 
wouldn't be doing it in the first place if he didn't truly enjoy it. 
He was good at it. He wanted to be back at the office.

It wasn't that he had a problem trusting Sam to handle things, but it 
was a big job. They relied on each other to cope with everything, 
sometimes delegating it between them and often working together. Sam 
was fully capable and did a great job, and he wouldn't have survived 
past the first week with Toby if he didn't have the heart for the 
work. But Toby was worried about Sam's current state of mind; more 
concerned about how work was effecting Sam than how Sam might be 
taking care of the issues that came up. 

Sam had come by a few times since he brought him home from the 
hospital. But those visits had been after work, pretty late, when 
they were both too tired to deal with any heavy conversation. But 
that was coming. They needed to talk.

He was sure he'd been right about what was eating at Sam when he had 
asked if he had really scared him. Sam, who'd kept his cool in the 
office, had probably been hit at some point between the White House 
and the hospital recovery room with the same realization that had 
later hit Toby-he could have died. That accounted for Sam's reactions 
in the recovery room; he had certainly been relieved, but he was also 
quiet and a little withdrawn. He had been recovering from the 
adrenaline rush that came with sudden and overwhelming fear. He 
was still trying to get over that fear-hence the yelling when Toby's 
little crash into the counter had brought those feelings abruptly 
back to the surface.

Sam was fiercely protective of people and things that he cared about. 
It was a character trait. Toby had probably been the object of that 
protectiveness before, but never to this extent. The level of Sam's 
response to his heart attack had the paradoxical effects of worrying 
him and warming his heart because it showed how much Sam cared.

He really hadn't meant to get attached to these people. He hadn't 
known anything was missing from his life until this big brother-little 
brother relationship with Sam had come up. He missed that relationship 
with David. But it was something that he hadn't had in a long time, 
and thought he was fine living without. David wasn't the type that 
tended to need a big brother much. But Sam-well, Sam was the type who 
could be the most competent adult you ever met one minute and looking 
at you with puppy-dog eyes after tripping over a rug the next. He was 
also the baby of the West Wing, and he had some quality that made 
everyone want to take care of him. When he was in pain, it tore at 
Toby's heart. When he was happy, he had a way of getting through 
Toby's worst moods. He'd wormed his way into Toby's life, and the 
Communications Director could no longer conceive of a life without 
him in it.

Maybe Sam was having trouble dealing with the same concept, with them 
in reverse roles.

They really had to talk tomorrow.

~*~

That same night found the object of Toby's thoughts working late, 
trying to get things in order so Toby wouldn't have an overwhelming 
first day back.

Sam was finally preparing to head home. He'd briefly entertained the 
idea of sleeping on the couch in the office, but decided he didn't 
want to deal with Josh, Leo, and CJ's reactions to that, not to 
mention the First Lady. They had all been hovering the past two 
weeks, taking some of the weight off of him and insisting that he eat 
and rest at regular intervals. They knew him too well-knew that he 
would work himself into the ground if they didn't physically place 
themselves between him and it. He appreciated it. Really, he did. But 
he wasn't the one who needed all their attention. Where they found 
time to visit Toby and still play mother hen to him was beyond him. 
They really did need more work to do.

There was a light knock on his open office door. He turned as Josh 
came on in, never one to wait for an invitation.

He quickly turned away from his friend to close his briefcase. He 
really wasn't in the mood to talk. "I'm on my way out, Josh."

"Good. Me too; I'll walk with you."

Sam sighed. Granted, he was the youngest member of the senior staff, 
but did everyone have to act like his mother all the time? Sam turned 
around again to give Josh a look that was meant to say 'stop babying 
me, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,' but his best 
friend simply smiled at him. Josh could be unflappable when he wanted 
to be. At the moment, Sam found it his most infuriating 
characteristic.

"Josh, just-it's been a long couple of weeks, okay? I really want to 
go home and get some sleep tonight."

"Did I say or do anything that suggested I was going to prevent 
that?"

Sam glared at him, but again, Josh was unaffected. Sam had the 
unfortunate trait of being unable to stay mad at his friend, and 
Josh knew it. Sam held the glare a bit longer, then gave up, letting 
his face crumble back into the tired features he'd been sporting 
lately. "I just don't really want to talk right now, okay?"

Josh nodded sympathetically. "I know."

So he did. Josh knew him better than anyone, and probably knew 
exactly what was bothering him. But since Sam had yet to face that, 
he certainly didn't want to talk about it. Josh always seemed to sense 
how far he could push before Sam would simply close off from him, and 
he rarely made the mistake of pushing too far. 

Josh continued, "So long as you know-I'm here whenever you do. Want 
to talk, I mean." 

Sam gave him a grateful look as they walked out the door. He turned 
out the light, and they headed down the hall. He knew that all of 
the protectiveness he'd been subjected to lately, as annoying as it 
might sometimes be, in reality showed that they all cared about him. 
"Josh?" His friend looked at him questioningly, and he in turn focused 
his eyes on the floor in front of them. "I know I've been kind of a 
pain these past few weeks, well, I just want to say thanks. For 
everything. I really do appreciate it."

He looked back up. Josh was watching him with a mixture of amusement 
and affection. "Sam, Sam, Sam." He slung a brotherly arm around his 
shoulders as they walked. "You don't have to thank me, you know. I'm 
your best friend. I'm here for you, always." He squeezed him closer 
for a second in a one-armed hug, then loosened his grip. "Although, 
it is nice to be appreciated. Maybe you want to get me a plaque or 
something. 'Best Friend of the Year.' I could hang it in my office; 
we could have a press briefing, the works. What do you say?"

Sam laughed, and Josh, reveling in his ability to cheer his friend, 
continued as they left the building, his voice echoing down the hall, 
"They could name a school after me. Josh Lyman Junior High. Has a nice 
ring to it, don't you think? Oh come on, it's not that funny. Hey, it 
could happen!"
~*~
Entering the West Wing had never been quite as interesting as it was 
that next morning. Everyone had a smile for Toby, welcoming him back 
and asking how he was doing, even people whose names he couldn't 
remember. And he smiled back at everyone, thanked them for their 
concern, and responded that he was great.

Of course, by the time he reached his office, he needed to sit down. 
He considered it a small price to pay for that welcome. Besides, he 
was still going to be low on energy for awhile, it was to be expected. 
He just needed to sit for a few minutes and allow his body to catch 
up to his mind.

Unfortunately for Toby, that was how Sam found him a few moments 
later-seated on his couch and sipping from a bottle of water. He 
hadn't bothered to close his door. Sam raised his hand to knock, but 
then saw his boss and promptly dropped the hand to rush to his side. 
"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously as he knelt beside him.

Toby considered rolling his eyes, but dropped that idea as he studied 
Sam's honestly worried face. He couldn't help but wonder how he was 
going to get any work done with his deputy being this overprotective. 
"I'm fine, Sam. And I mean it this time," he threw in before Sam could 
protest. "Dr. Burke told me I'd be a little tired for the first few 
days back at work." He conveniently left out that Dr. Burke had said 
it would likely be a few more weeks before he was back to relatively 
normal energy levels. No need to worry the kid more.

"So, it seems like people missed me around here," he continued, 
giving Sam an impish smile. "You forgot to yell at them didn't you? 
They don't feel that they're in their normal, comfortable work 
environment if nobody's yelling." 

Sam returned his smile. "It can't be that, because I did yell. You 
know, just to be sure everyone was comfortable. No-they must have 
actually missed you." He stood then, and Toby reached a hand out to 
him, allowing Sam to help him to his feet. Sam pulled him up and 
held onto him for a minute as he made sure Toby was all right. 
Toby nodded to him, and Sam released him, but stayed close in case 
he was needed for support as he continued, "There's nothing big 
hanging over our heads right now; just the speech for next week's 
conference, but I've already started drafting it. If anything comes 
up, you can get me. Or if you need me for anything, just ask. And I 
do mean anything. I swore to Mrs. Bartlet that I would make sure you 
take it easy, and I have no intention of getting into trouble with the 
First Lady." He paused for a moment, and Toby met the suddenly solemn 
blue eyes. "Seriously, Toby, we missed you."

Toby reached out to squeeze his deputy's shoulder. He opened his 
mouth to respond, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Ginger 
tentatively stuck her head in. "Toby, Sam, I'm sorry to interrupt."

"It's okay, Ginger. It's good to see you. Go ahead," Toby responded, 
giving her a warm smile.

She returned the smile, obviously happy to see her boss back in one 
relatively healthy piece. "The President was hoping to have breakfast 
with you."

He nodded and thanked her, and she headed back to her desk. He turned 
his attention back to Sam. "See, even the President missed me. I had 
no idea I was so popular." He headed for the door. "Come on, let's go 
have breakfast."

"Toby, I've got a lot of work to do-"

Toby looked at him suspiciously. "You just said there was nothing 
pressing."

"Uh, well-I wasn't invited."

Just then, Ginger called from her desk, "I almost forgot, Sam, you're 
invited to breakfast, too."

Toby looked at him triumphantly, daring him to try to weasel out of 
it. "Sorry, Sam, but between the President's stories and trivia and 
Mrs. Bartlet's 20 questions about my health, there's no way I'm going 
in there without backup."

Sam groaned, but followed obediently. As they headed down the hall, 
Toby asked, "Since when are you so wary of meals with the 
President?"

Sam glanced at him. "Since you're not the only one who gets a health 
check every time you see the First Lady."

Toby felt his own protective instincts flare. "Are you feeling 
okay?"

Sam gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm fine!"

They stopped and looked at each other in amusement before bursting 
into laughter. There was certainly some irony in the fact that Sam 
had been asking that question and him giving the patent answer for 
weeks, and now they'd reversed their roles. Maybe it was true-now that 
things were getting back to normal, they should both be fine.

~*~

Breakfast was interesting. It was probably the healthiest meal either 
of them had eaten in a long time. Sam doubted there was more than an 
ounce of fat or cholesterol on the whole table. He couldn't imagine 
being forced to give up butter, fried foods, eggs-the list seemed to 
go on and on. And President Bartlet seemed intent on enlightening 
them to each and every one of them. Apparently he and Mrs. Bartlet 
had spent a considerable amount of time talking about the subject.

Breakfast ended and they went on with their day. Toby looked well 
and seemed almost thrilled to be back at work. Sam was happy to see 
his boss so happy.

He was working in his office later that day on the draft of the speech 
he had mentioned to Toby when he heard the familiar thump on the 
window between their offices. He glanced up from his work, remembering 
how indignant he had gotten when Toby had first started using the red 
bouncing ball to summon him. He couldn't help but smile at the irony 
as he realized he had really missed it lately.

He went around his desk and traveled the short distance out his
office and to Toby's door. "You called?" he asked, sticking his head 
into his boss's office. 

Toby smiled and tossed the ball to Sam, who caught it with only a 
little fumbling. Toby nodded approvingly, and Sam suddenly realized 
that that had been a test. If he had been too overtired he would 
likely have dropped the ball or missed it altogether, as exhaustion 
tended to amplify his clumsiness. Sam narrowed his eyes and shook his 
head, letting Toby know he was on to him. The Communications Director 
only smiled wider. He was enjoying this far too much.

"Did you need something, or are you just testing my reflexes?" Sam 
asked, tossing the ball back as he spoke. Toby caught it easily, but 
that didn't tell Sam if he was tired or not. Toby had so much 
experience with it; he could probably catch that thing with his eyes 
closed.

Toby chuckled. "Bring the speech in here, we can work on it 
together."

Sam nodded, rolled his eyes, and headed back to his office for the 
draft. But as he headed back to Toby, speech in hand, he was hit with 
a sense of déjà vu that stopped him cold. The last time he'd gone 
into Toby's office to work on a speech-

Don't even go there, Sam, he told himself. But it was too late-in his
mind, he was already reliving Toby's heart attack.

The ball thumped against the window again; Toby obviously wondered 
what was taking so long. He had to force himself to walk back into 
the other office.

~*~

Toby was still smiling, bouncing the ball off the opposite wall 
repeatedly, when he started wondering how long it could possibly take 
to walk into Sam's office and retrieve some papers off the desk. He 
changed his aim and hit the window once before aiming back at the 
other wall in one smooth motion. He knew it would be enough to get 
Sam's attention.

Sure enough, Sam reappeared a few moments later. Toby glanced up at 
his deputy and missed the returning ball, which hit the side of 
the bookcase and dropped to the ground to roll under his desk, 
temporarily forgotten.

Sam had only been out of his sight for a few minutes. But something 
must have happened in that time, because he looked a little ill. His 
face had drained of color. The speech was in his hand, wrinkling in a 
grip that was so tight, Sam's knuckles were white. 

Toby quickly rose to his feet. "Sam, what's wrong?"

Sam simply looked at him, then attempted a weak smile. "Nothing, 
why?"

Toby made his way around the desk to get to his deputy. "You look 
like you're about to pass out on my floor, that's why. Here, sit 
down." He gently gripped Sam's arm and steered him to the couch, 
where he lightly pushed him down before sitting beside him.

He reached out a hand to softly rub Sam's back. "Just breathe. Take 
it easy." Sam took a moment to do as he was told, and Toby was 
gratified to see the color slowly return to his cheeks. 

After a moment Sam glanced up at him, embarrassed. "I'm okay. 
I'm sorry."

Toby shrugged off his apology; it wasn't necessary. He reached over 
to remove the papers from Sam's hand, where they were still in danger 
of being strangled by his death grip. "What happened, Sam? Are you 
sure you're feeling okay?" He reached out a hand to his deputy's 
forehead to check for a fever. Sam swatted it away, but not before 
Toby was satisfied that his temperature felt normal.

"I'm just tired, that's all."

Well, there was no way Toby was buying that. After all, he caught the 
ball. "Sam," he said warningly. "Don't lie to me."

Sam, face now tinged pink with embarrassment, studied him, 
apparently trying to decide whether to tell him or not. Toby simply 
looked back at him sternly. Of course, his stern look had long ago 
lost its effect on Sam, but his deputy usually humored him anyhow. 
It was the way they communicated.

Sam sighed after a moment and looked away. He muttered something that 
sounded like, "I ws jst remeberin lst tme-"

Toby stared at him. "Uh, it would probably be better if we did this 
in a language we both understand." 

The younger man shot him a look of annoyance, but he looked back down 
before he said again, still quietly but intelligible this time, 
"I was just remembering the last time I came in here to work on a 
speech." He didn't explain any further, but Toby could fill in the 
blanks. He drew in a deep breath. He'd been preparing for this 
conversation for two weeks, but suddenly he had no idea what to say.

"Sam-" he began, searching for the right words, "I know it was 
frightening for you guys. It wasn't pretty scary on my end, too."

Sam glanced up and met his gaze. "What do you remember?" he asked 
softly.

Toby looked at Sam's sad eyes then answered honestly, "Pain, mostly. 
I remember working on the speech, feeling sick, falling off the chair-
I know Ginger, Josh, and Mrs. Bartlet were there. And you, of course." 
He put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "What am I missing?"

"Well, I caught you when you fell. I knew we needed an ambulance, but 
I couldn't reach the phone so I called for Ginger. She called 911, 
then called Josh and went to find the First Lady. In that time before 
Josh showed up-it could only have been a few minutes, but it felt 
like hours-I didn't know what to do Toby. I didn't know how to help 
you and I was so afraid-" he trailed off, shaking his head.

Toby broke in then, needing to get rid of whatever guilt Sam was 
harboring. "There was nothing else you could do. Medically, I mean. 
But what you did, supporting me and holding onto me; I knew you were 
there, Sam, and that helped. Knowing I wasn't alone helped. And if you
hadn't been in here with me, I wouldn't have gotten help as fast as 
I did, and it could have been worse. So you saved me, okay?" He gave 
his deputy a smile and squeezed his shoulder. "I haven't thanked you 
for that, or for everything you've done since. So, thank you."

Sam was staring at him, looking a little dazed. He was obviously 
surprised to be receiving thanks for something he'd perceived as 
inadequate only minutes before. 

Toby decided to plunge on as long as he was on a roll. He dropped 
his voice to a quiet tone as he continued, "I'm sorry I scared you, 
kid. It was frightening for me, too-to realize that I could have 
died." Sam flinched. "But you know what? I think it was good for me. 
Because I get a second chance, I have a whole new outlook. I get to 
appreciate everything I have that I took for granted before. I'm going 
to take better care of myself, I'm not going to yell-" Sam looked at 
him doubtfully, and he amended, "I'm not going to yell as much-" which 
earned him a small smile. "Seriously, Sam. We're all going to die 
sometime. I realize that's kind of harsh, but you can't focus on that. 
You have to make the most of the time you have."

Sam responded with a teasing, "Careful, Toby. I think you've been 
thinking too hard; you're starting to sound like a psychologist. Or 
maybe a priest."

"Hey, I'm not exactly Catholic," he fired back.

Then Sam grew serious again. "What you're saying makes sense. I guess 
I just need some time to process it. I mean-it really did scare me. 
Almost losing you." He looked down shyly. "Just try not to die on me 
anytime soon, okay?"

Sam looked and sounded like a little boy waiting for reassurance from 
his big brother. It broke Toby's heart, and made him want more than 
anything to provide that reassurance. He impulsively reached out for 
Sam, pulling him into a hug. "I'm going to try my hardest," he said 
softly.

Sam's initial reaction was to stiffen in surprise. "Toby, you're 
hugging me," he said incredulously. 

Toby laughed affectionately, but didn't loosen his embrace. "Chalk it 
up to the emotional aftereffects of the heart attack."

Sam laughed softly, relaxing and bringing his arms up to return the 
hug. Neither of them moved to break it for a few minutes, needing the 
contact to remind them that they'd both made it through this.

Eventually, Sam said, "Hey, Toby? A few minutes ago, did you call me 
'kid'?" 

Toby laughed again, releasing Sam. "What, you don't like it?"

Sam pulled back as well. "Oh, it's fine. You're not going to start 
calling me that on a regular basis are you? Or in front of people?"

"I don't know, I kind of like it." Toby smirked at the look Sam shot 
him. "Let's work on this speech, huh?"

~*~

Fifteen minutes later, Josh, CJ, and Leo ran into each other in the 
Communications Bullpen. They all had found an excuse to be there, but 
they really had only one purpose. They were spying; trying to find 
out if their friends were all right. 

From within Toby's office, they heard, "Hey, Sam, I'd like you to meet 
Mr. Comma. The comma is our friend. When you leave him out, he feels 
neglected. So let's use him, okay?" Sam was laughing too hard to 
respond.

The three of them looked at each other and smiled. Everything 
would be fine.


The End