The Benefit of My Heart's Inexperience

10:40 p.m. – The West Wing – Communications Bullpen

"Somebody get the phone!" Bonnie called, rushing out the door, Carol
by her side, their arms laden with press copies of the State of the
Union address. The rest of the staff seemingly ignored her, everyone
hell-bent on his or her role in the spin cycle of White House
politics in January, on the night of the State of the Union.

Donna grabbed the phone, staring out into the hall at the sight of
Josh and Amy having what appeared to be a less than friendly
conversation. "Communications Bullpen, Donna Moss." Fingering the
phone cord, Donna continued to stare a hole through the back of
Josh's head.

"I'm sorry, it's rather noisy in here, could you repeat yourself
please? Who?" Suddenly Donna's voice dropped to just above a
whisper. "Cliff, what are you doing calling here? I thought I told
you . . . hang on I'm going to change phones." Hitting the hold
button, Donna sprinted out the near door and down the hall, dodging
staffers and invited guests alike. Racing around the corner, she
dodged three reporters and a secretary, ducking into Josh's office
and slamming the door behind her.

Sitting on Josh's desk, swinging her legs, and feigning far more
nonchalance than she felt, Donna picked up the phone and hit the
appropriate extension. "You still there?"

Listening to Cliff on the other end of the line, Donna began to bite
her lower lip. `Stupid nervous habit . . . cut that out.' Donna
mentally chided herself. `No Cliff, we haven't been told yet. What
do you care? I'm sorry but we don't have the numbers yet and I have
*no* idea when Joey will be releasing them. No, please don't do
that. Wait and get them from CNN like every other Republican.
Yeah." Donna hung up the phone, still sitting on Josh's desk
puzzling over the *real* reason as to why Cliff was calling to ask
about the polling numbers. Shaking off the call, and telling herself
it was just his way of showing concern, Donna walked out of Josh's
office and back to the bullpen.

The West Wing – 12:30 a.m. – Communications Bullpen

"It's time." Bonnie whispered, tapping her boss on the shoulder.

Offering no explanation, he left his ex-fiancée standing by the
French doors, wondering, once again, what he was hiding from her.

"Toby?" Ginger stood in the entrance to the Roosevelt Room.

"Yeah, Ginger?" One look at his assistant told the tale. Toby
excused himself from the group of lobbyists he was visiting with and
walked down the hall, his hand on the small of her back.

"Excuse me, Leo?"

"Yeah, Margaret?"

"Josh has an old friend from home that he'd like you to meet."

"Thanks Margaret, I'll be right with ya. If you'll excuse me, Madame
Secretary?" Leo shook the undersecretary's hand and turned to follow
his assistant to the communications bullpen.

Standing on top of a desk, Donna was in charge of the body count,
making sure all were present and accounted for. "Where's CJ – anyone
seen our illustrious Press Secretary?"

"She's in the East Room schmoozing the media execs, I'll get her."
Kenny ran back toward the party.

"Need a hand down?" Larry asked, looking up at the woman they all
affectionately referred to as the deputy-deputy Chief of Staff.

"Hey, Larry. Yeah, that'd be a huge help."

"Put your hands on my shoulders and I'll lift you."

"Just give me your hand, Larry, I can step down."

"Donna, I don't think you necessarily want to try and do that. Even
with the chair, which is on casters, by the way, that first step is a
killer. You fall and sprain or break an ankle and Josh will never
let any of us hear the end of it. Put your hands on my damn
shoulders! I promise not to drop you!"

Laughing, Donna leaned forward and rested her hands on Larry's
shoulders as he reached up and placed his hands around her waist,
easily lifting her off the desk and gently setting her on the
floor. "Thanks, I had no idea you were that strong."

"Years of lifting cheerleaders at the University of Kentucky."
Larry replied as they walked toward the front of the Bullpen,
following the others.

"You were a cheerleader?"

"Yeah, we won the National Cheerleading Championship all four years I
was there."

"Cool, maybe we should try making one of those giant pyramids with
the staff."

"We'll try that on election night after we win."

"Don't you mean *if* we win, Larry?" Donna asked, arching her right
eyebrow.

"No, I meant, *when* we win. You've gotta believe, Donna." Larry
patted his colleague on the back and walked back to stand between Ed
and one of the secretaries from Accounting.

Donna waited near the entranceway, her head craned around the door,
keeping an eye out for Josh, Leo and Margaret.

"Looking for me?"

Donna jumped and turned around quickly, glaring at her boss. "Stop
sneaking up on me like that!"

"Stop being such an easy target."

"May I have your attention?" Kenny said loudly, his hands flowing as
he interpreted Joey's words. "These are the first round of numbers,
based on polling from . . ."

Two minutes later it was over. And surely, if anyone in the East
Room had any doubts of the polling results, their suspicions were
confirmed by the wave of noise echoing from the bullpens to the
Portico.

Josh had CJ three feet off the ground.

Sam and Toby were hugging and expressing all the brotherly love you
knew they shared.

Ed and Larry shared a high five and then hugged Bonnie and Ginger
until each begged to be turned loose.

Toby and CJ were kissing each other everywhere on their faces but
their lips. It was a comical sight.

Margaret and Donna hugged laughing with equal parts delight and
relief.

Leo smiled and hugged Josh, turning back down the hall with the
intent of bringing the President to the party. Before he'd gone ten
steps, Bartlet, his agents, and Charlie rounded the corner.

As Leo and the President congratulated Sam and Toby, Margaret walked
up and pulled Charlie to her in a tight hug. Feeling the moisture of
his tears on her cheek, she whispered into his left ear, "I know, I
wish she were here too."

Charlie laughed. "The President said I was channeling her earlier
this afternoon when I fussed at him about not eating all of his
vegetables."

"Good for you!" Margaret put her arm around the young man and
together they watched as the celebration spilled from the Bullpen
into the hallway.

Reaching the end of the hall first, Sam grabbed Bonnie and twirled
her around, spinning her out then back in, before dipping her so low
that her curls brushed the floor.

"Who `da man?" Sam asked his assistant, grinning goofily at her.

"The President is, now let me up from here, Samuel Norman Seaborn."
Bonnie mugged, feigning frustration at her boss, praying the blush
she could feel wouldn't show.

"Why Bonnie, is that a blush I see on those cheeks?" Sam said,
continuing to hold her captive, upside down, in his arms.

"No, you doofus, it's all the blood rushing to my head. You wanna
let me up so we can, oh I don't know, do a job?"

Laughing, Sam brought Bonnie back to an upright position, keeping an
arm around her as people applauded. Glancing at Leo, he expected to
see a look of stern reproach, but was rewarded with a wink and a
smile. Like the morning after a particularly harsh thunderstorm, the
air had been cleared, and people were ready to enjoy a moment of
camaraderie and optimism.

"All right everybody!" Leo hollered, standing in the middle of the
hall, waving his arms over his head to get the staff's
attention. "The President's address was well received by Congress
and the folks we polled. Let's go to work and make sure the press
and the rest of the American people feel the same way. Where's
Ainsley?"

"Right behind you." The Associate Counsel reached out to tap Leo on
the shoulder.

"Oh, sorry. We need ya to go on the offensive, countering the
Republican spin, presenting . . ."

"The united front of the bipartisan spirit of the Bartlet
Administration." Ainsley finished smiling at Margaret, who stood
behind her boss, mouthing the same statement, word for word.

"You're a good girl, Ainsley." Leo said, walking toward his office.
The West Wing – 1:30 a.m. - Leo McGarry's Office

The Chief of Staff leaned on the edge of his desk, phone receiver
cradled between his ear and shoulder, making notes on a legal
pad. "Yeah, yeah, Manning and Bennick will bite on this. How do I
know? Because they're card-carrying members of the save the
endangered whatever lobby and will bring their six votes with them.
Bring me the proposed legislation and I'll have Margaret summarize it
for tomorrow. Thanks Josh." Leo disconnected the call. "Margaret!"

Almost as if she'd anticipated his summons, the tall red head was
through the door before the last syllable was off Leo's lips.
Crossing the room, she hefted the coffee carafe in her right
hand. "More coffee, Leo?"

"Yeah. Hell, let's bypass the mug, just hand me the coffee pot. For
that matter, call the First Lady, we can have her start an IV in my
left arm and you can just pour it straight into my veins."

"Because I'm looking to watch you have your first stroke before the
night's over. Yeah, that's definitely on my list of things we need
to accomplish tonight."

"You gotta real mouth on you, you know that?"

"I learned from the best." Margaret smiled at her boss.

"And that would be?"

"You."

"Me?" Leo stood, hands on hips, as his assistant nodded
vehemently. "When did you pick up this bad habit from me?"

"Every minute of every hour of every blessed day that I have worked
for you."

"Had a little practice at it then?"

"You could say that. What's next?" Margaret asked Leo, mentally
switching gears in an effort to keep them on task.

"Josh is gonna bring the trade legislation by . . ."

"Manning and Bennick?"

"Taken care of, we'll give a little to get something else. The usual
drill."

"And you need me to summarize the Bill before staff tomorrow,"
glancing at her watch Margaret looked at Leo. "Make that later *this*
morning."

"Yeah." Leo took off his jacket, draping it over the back of the
nearest chair at his conference table. His left hand began to fumble
with the cufflink at his right sleeve. "Damned arthritis."

Margaret walked across the room and stood in front of her boss.
Without saying anything, she reached out and deftly removed his left
cufflink, her well-manicured pink nails a stark contrast to his white
shirt. Smiling slightly as she recognized the first Christmas gift
she'd given Leo, she reached across his extended left arm and
released the catch on the right one. Walking across his office, she
placed them in the center of his leather desk blotter. She retrieved
the coffeepot from the conference table and exited the office,
leaving the Chief of Staff standing with a bemused expression on his
face.

Josh was waiting in the reception area when Margaret came back from
returning the carafe to the kitchen and making a fresh pot. "He in
there?" Josh asked, nodding at the door.

"He is, but he's up to his ears in briefings. Is that the trade
bill?"

"Yeah. Should I just, you know, leave it?"

"That'll be fine. He wants bullet points on it before staff, anyway."

"Any questions, call Donna. I think she's read through it once."

"Wouldn't doubt it. Thanks Josh."

"Sure thing." Josh exited the office, hollering for his assistant.

`Wonder where he learned *that* little trick?' Margaret thought to
herself. Smiling slightly, she opened the word processing program on
her computer and began reviewing the trade bill.

The West Wing – 3:00 a.m. – Leo McGarry's Office

Leo opened the door between his office and the reception area
stopping to watch his assistant hard at work on the trade bill.

"What can I do for you, Leo?" Margaret asked, her eyes never leaving
the document.

"How do you do that? I never said a word."

"I heard you open the door. I'll have this done in another hour or
so."

"Leave it."

Margaret's head whipped around. She stared at Leo as if he'd grown a
second head. "I *beg* your pardon?"

"It's late, or early, however you wanna look at it. You've been here
almost 24 hours straight. The President pushed staff back till 10:00
a.m. Go home and sleep for a few hours, you can finish that when you
come back."

"Leo, I'd rather stay and get it done. I can sleep anytime."

"I'm not having you exhausted this early in the campaign. We've got
a long, uphill, battle ahead of us Margaret and we need everyone on
his or her toes. Those numbers we got tonight were good. Hell, they
were fan-freakin'-tastic. But they're soft numbers. We've got work
to do. We need you . . . I need you to be strong for the next
several months. Please, go home, get some sleep."

"What about you?"

"The President is on the phone with Marbury, heaven help him. As
soon as he's done, I need five minutes then I'm out of here as well.
I'll see you at 8:30 and not a moment before. That clear?"

"Yes, sir." Margaret said, smiling slightly. Placing a diskette in
the drive, Margaret saved the document and locked both diskette and
document in her bottom file drawer. Standing up, she waited as Leo
removed her coat from the closet, slipping her arms into it as he
held it.

"He did good tonight, real good." Leo said, stepping back into his
office.

"I know, I caught bits and pieces of it on CNN."

"What is it about the State of the Union, that brings out the best
oratory skills of our Presidents?" Leo turned toward his desk,
unaware he'd posed the question aloud.

Standing between her office and his, Margaret was reminded of an
earlier State of the Union Address. Softly, she began, "This, then,
is the state of the union: free and restless, growing and full of
hope. So it was in the beginning. So it shall always be, while God
is willing, and we are strong enough to keep the faith."

Leo turned, surprised to see his assistant still there. Slightly
more surprised by her seemingly random knowledge of presidential
speeches. "Lyndon Baines Johnson?" Margaret nodded. "How'd you
know that?"

"Must've picked it up somewhere. Good night, Leo." Margaret walked
back into her office, softly closing the door between the two rooms.
Gathering her purse and overnight bag, she turned off the overhead
light and walked into the hall. The excitement of the evening
conjoined with the exhaustion in her body and she began to feel
slightly giddy. Thinking back over the conversation she'd shared
with Carol, Bonnie, Donna, and Ginger, the words to an old song began
to dance through her mind. Giving no consideration for the hour or
the location, Margaret began to sing as she walked toward the staff
entrance.

I never cared much for moonlit skies.
I never winked back at fireflies.

Inside his office, Leo McGarry stood gazing at his right palm, where
rested two silver and onyx cufflinks. Hearing the words to a vaguely
familiar tune, he walked toward the doorway in time to be surprised
by the sight of Margaret walking down the hall, singing.

Had his assistant chosen that moment for a last look back, she would
have found her boss, arms folded across his chest, leaning in the
doorway, joining her in the last line.

But now that the stars are in your eyes,
I'm beginning to see the light.

Finis

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