Celebrations

 Rating: PG 13 for language you wouldn't normally use in polite
company.
Disclaimer: The West Wing and its characters are the property of
Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, Warner Brothers Television, and
NBC. I am making no profit from this. Please don't sue, as you will
only get a lifetime supply of grant proposals and my killer travel
itinerary.
Spoilers – Anything through 100,000 Airplanes should be considered
fair game.
Feedback: Makes me grin like a Cheshire cat
Summary: "Someone once said `You only live once, but if you play it
right, once is enough.' In the last eight years, if there's one
thing I've learned, it is that every day, for reasons great or small,
should be celebrated."
Author's Notes: To Lin & Flip, my beta angels and friends through
thick, thin, and "what the heck was that?" Thanks also to Jeanine,
who waited on tenterhooks for this installment. Finally, thanks to
Liz, Debbie and the rest of the miraculous, fun-loving oncology
team. "How Deep is the Ocean (How High is the Sky)" was written by
Irving Berlin. The Diana Krall cd Toby and Margaret are talking
about in Part 2 of this story is "Love Scenes." If you haven't
listened to it, it's wonderful. This story picks up where "The
Benefit of my Heart's Inexperience" leaves off.
Wednesday, February 6, 2002 6:30 a.m. – Georgetown

White House Press Secretary CJ Cregg stood in front of her coffee
maker, waiting impatiently for the brewing cycle to cease. She
rapidly tapped her right hand against the countertop, eagerly
anticipating her first caffeine jolt of the day, while glancing over
her shoulder at the early news on CNN.

Finally, the coffeepot stopped hissing and burbling. CJ grabbed the
pot, pouring its contents into a large stainless steel travel mug.
Snapping the lid on the mug, she flipped the power switch on the
coffee machine to the "off" position and silenced the television with
the remote control. Grabbing her trench coat, briefcase, and purse,
she exited the front door of her townhouse, locking the door behind
her. The sound of her black leather heels on the sidewalk echoed
loudly as she walked to her gray sedan.

Fifteen minutes later, CJ pulled into a parking garage attached to a
12 story poured concrete and chrome building. Luck being on her side
this morning, she found a parking space on the second level. Taking
a last gulp of her now tepid coffee, the Press Secretary got out of
her car, activating the locks. Deciding on the direct route, she ran
down two flights of stairs, exiting the garage and hustling through
the main doors. Automatically recalling her last visit, CJ turned
down the near hall, walking quickly to the back of the building.

Passing through a set of off-white double doors, CJ shivered
involuntarily at the change in temperature. Striding to the
reception area in the center of the room, she smiled at the young
woman behind the desk.

"Good morning, can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

"Hi, my name is CJ Cregg, I have an appointment."

"Yes Ms. Cregg, they'll be ready for you in a few moments. May I
have your card?"

"Wha – oh, sure. Almost forgot about that." Setting her purse on
the edge of the desk, she flipped the front panel back, digging out
her wallet and locating the requested piece of plastic. "Here you
go." CJ handed the card over.

Swiping the card through a reader, the receptionist handed it back to
CJ. Picking up the phone she dialed an extension with the eraser
end of a mechanical pencil. "Celeste, it's Joanne, I have CJ Cregg
here, are you folks set? Great, I'll send her on." Looking up at
CJ, she said, "They're ready for you, if you'll go through the door
on the far wall, Celeste will meet you and take you back. You're not
nervous are you?"

CJ immediately pulled her right index finger from her mouth, where
she'd been gnawing on the side of a fingernail. "Uh, no, I just hate
going through this." Walking away from the reception desk, she
squared her shoulders. `Buck up, Claudia Jean.' She thought, walking
through the doors, smiling at the woman on the other side.

Wednesday February 6, 2002 – 7:00

Margaret sat in the hallway, a pink cotton wrap-around robe offering
minimal protection from the cool air blowing through the vents set
near the ceiling. `Why is it always so *damned* chilly in here?
You'd think they could do something about that.' Staring at her
hands folded in her lap, she continued her internal monologue, "I
wonder how long this will take? I have got to be out of here by 9 or
Leo will have my head. I'm scared, I don't want to go through this
again. And that's a load of horse crap, this is nothing, this is the
easy stuff. The hard part comes after.' Margaret looked up and
glanced down the hall, her jaw dropping as she recognized the figure
moving toward her.

Margaret raised her right hand in greeting. "Good morning CJ."

"Margaret?" CJ said, her voice rising half an octave at the sight of
a familiar face. "This is a surprise. What are you doing here?"

"Same thing you are, I imagine. Mammogram?" Margaret asked, smiling
at the Press Secretary.

"Yeah, and may I say that I'd rather get grilled by Babish for six
hours than go through one of these." CJ sat down on the hard, tan,
plastic chair next to Margaret, placing her purse and plastic bag
with her jacket, blouse, and bra in it, next to her on the floor.

Margaret chuckled softly. "Right with you. You'd think, after all
the times I'd done this it would be second nature. But I never get
used to it."

"Too true. But wait, what do mean about all the times you've done
this? You're younger than me; I just had my baseline done two years
ago . . ." CJ's line of questioning was interrupted by Celeste coming
down the hall, her right hand extended, palm up.

"Hey Margaret, I think you left this in the changing room."

`Oh, shit, secret's out now.' Margaret thought. Schooling her face
in a look of nonchalance, Margaret extended her left hand and reached
for the object the radiology technician was holding. "Thanks,
Celeste, pesky little booger got away from me again."

CJ looked at Margaret, an expression somewhere between shock and
horror pasted on her face. "Is that what I think it is?" She
pointed toward Margaret's hand with her right index finger.

"If you think it's a prosthesis, then yes, it is." Margaret
grimaced, wondering if she could convince CJ to keep this quiet.

"Well, okay." CJ leaned back in the chair.

"What, no twenty questions?"

"Oh, I've got about two hundred and twenty questions swimming through
my brain right now, Margaret. And no idea where to start. I mean,
it's not like you've ever shared this with anybody." CJ finished
with a sigh.

"How about I give you the short version and then you can ask me any
questions I don't cover with the highlights?"

"Shoot."

"About eight years ago, I found a lump in my right breast while doing
monthly self exam. Went to the doctor, who decided it was suspicious
enough to bypass the mammogram and go straight to the biopsy. Long
story short, I had a single radical mastectomy, followed by a
particularly nasty course of chemotherapy. I've been in remission
for almost seven years. And I never wanted reconstruction surgery,
hence the prosthesis."

"And all this happened . . ."

"While I was working for Leo at the Department of Labor."

"Well, he must have been totally fried."

"He doesn't know."

"What? How can you keep something like *that* a secret?" CJ said,
eyebrows rising close to her hairline.

"Quite easily, actually. Leo was in Sierra Tucson when I was
diagnosed. By the time he got back, I'd had surgery and was almost
done with chemo. Given his `fragile state', it was easy to convince
the few people in the office who knew about this to keep it quiet.
I've never told him, very few people know actually."

"Well, that explains why I've never heard about it."

"Yeah, and if you could just, you know, keep it between us . . ."

"Of course, Margaret, I'm not going to betray your confidence. But,
are you sure you're okay?"

"Absolutely." Margaret smiled with far more calm than she
felt. "This is just my annual check up."

"Same here." CJ replied, looking up as another technician came into
the hall.

"Ms. Rigby? Ms. Cregg? If both of you will follow me, please?"

"Here goes not much." CJ said as both women gathered their
belongings and headed down the hall together.

11:30 a.m. – The West Wing – Oval Office

"Okay everyone, I think that's it. Josh, you and Sam will take the
meetings with Harris and Gross on the Hill?" Leo asked, looking at
his deputy for confirmation.

"Yeah, Donna tells me we're scheduled for 2 o'clock. Don't worry,
we'll come back with an agreement on the tariff section."

"Try not to break any bones, or otherwise scare them senseless this
time." President Bartlet said. "I don't want any phone calls about
how the two of you wreaked havoc on the Minority Whip and his staff."

"Understood, Mr. President." Sam said.

"Is there anything else, Mr. President?" Leo asked his oldest friend.

"Can't think of anything. Thanks everyone."

"Thank you Mr. President," the Senior Staff chorused, walking into
the reception area.

Toby hung back from Sam and Josh, walking slowly to match CJ's
pace. "You feeling okay, kid?"

"Yeah, Toby, why'd you ask?"

"You looked like you were zoning out a little in the middle of the
meeting. Plus, you kept massaging the area around your shoulders."

"I'm fine, Toby, just a little stiff and sore. Just some muscle
tension, it'll go away on its own in a couple of days."

"Whatever you say." They had reached the end of the hall and were
standing outside CJ's office, in front of Carol's desk. "I've gotta
go teach Sam the basics of punctuation, so . . ."

"Go on Toby" CJ said with a smile. "I'll see you at 4:00 Staff."
Turning toward her assistant CJ smiled, "Any messages Carol?"

Handing over the requested slips, Carol reached behind her and
grabbed two briefing books. "A little light reading for your lunch
hour."

"Thank you *so* much." CJ replied, rolling her eyes. "Could you run
down to the Mess and pick up a salad and some sort of soup for me?"

"No problem. You want some Tylenol on the side?"

"What?"

"You had a mammogram scheduled this morning. Don't tell me you
spaced it, because that's not something you can put off
indefinitely." Carol said, looking daggers at her boss.

"No, no, I went, I promise. And yes, I'll take a couple of Tylenol.
Josh raided my stash last week and cleaned me out."

"Sure thing. Back in a few." Carol left the office and turned
toward the staircase leading to the Mess.

The Press Secretary went into her office, shutting the door behind
her. Shrugging out of her suit jacket and hanging it in her closet,
she grabbed a pillow from the loveseat, tucking it under her right
arm. "Man, that still hurts," she muttered aloud. Sitting down at
her desk, she sorted through the phone messages deciding which ones
to return first. One message indicated that Donna called and she
should return the call ASAP. Reaching for the phone, CJ dialed
Donna's number.

"Hey Donna, it's CJ, I got a note that you called while I was out.
Yeah, I've got a few minutes, come on over." CJ hung up the phone,
reaching for one of the briefing books Carol had handed her.

Two minutes later, someone knocked softly at CJ's office door. "It's
open." CJ called, not looking up from the brief she was busily
highlighting.

"Hello CJ, thanks for seeing me on short notice." Donna said,
closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

"Donna, no problem, come in and have a seat. What's your idiot boss
done this time?"

"Nothing . . . yet." Donna smiled at her friend. "But the day is
young. Actually I came to talk to you about Margaret."

CJ's head jerked up and her eyes widened. "What about Margaret? Is
something wrong?"

"Relax, CJ, everything's fine with Margaret. Wow, you're still in
hyper damage control mode from the subpoenas."

"Yeah, I guess I am." CJ responded, mentally kicking herself for
showing too much concern. "Now, what about Margaret."

"Her birthday is coming up on Friday and I thought it might be nice
if a few of us got together that evening."

"That's a great idea, Donna. What did you have in mind, something
like a girl's night out?"

"Not really, those always get so rowdy and I know Margaret isn't
exactly the pub crawling type. Actually, we thought that maybe you,
Toby, Sam, Josh, Margaret and I could have dinner together."

"That actually sounds like a lot of fun. I can make reservations at
some place nice and quiet. Should we invite Leo?"

Donna grimaced. "First off, no Leo, no way, no how."

"Why not?"

"It's the woman's birthday, let's show her some mercy, huh? Also,
how many times has Leo ever socialized with us?"

"Fair point. Now, where should we have dinner?"

"Believe it or not, Sam wants to cook dinner at his place."

"You've talked this over with Sam?" Donna nodded. "And he wants to
cook, you know, an actual meal?" Donna nodded again. "Oh, that's
rich, Spanky has trouble getting the Chinese takeout order right half
the time."

"Well, to hear him tell it, he's been practicing his cooking skills.
Something about it being a stress reliever. What do you say?"

"Okay, I'm in, but I'm going to have a back-up reservation at
Galileo, just in case."

"Fair enough. Oh, and this is a surprise, so don't let on to Margaret
that you know."

"Not in a million, now begone, I have actual work to get done."

"See ya'." Donna exited the office, leaving CJ to her phone messages
and briefing books.

12:30 p.m. – The West Wing – Chief of Staff's Office

"Margaret!" Leo yelled, rummaging through a stack of papers
scattered across the top of his desk.

The tall red head entered his office clutching a note pad and ink
pen. "What can I do for you, Leo?"

"I can't find my notes for the Security Council meeting, the second
section of the trade bill's gone missing, and where the hell are my
glasses?" The Chief of Staff groaned, dropping back into his chair.

"Calm down, Leo, it's all easily fixed."

"So you say. Why can't I find what I need, when I need it?"

"My fault Leo. I wasn't in before you got here this morning and have
not had time to straighten out your desk from last night."

"Am I that bad?"

"Honestly?" Leo nodded his head. "Yes, you are." Margaret hurried
to alleviate the stricken look crossing her boss' face. "But that's
okay, Leo. It's just how you work and I'm more than used to it. We
have a system, you mess it up, I clean it up, and between the two of
us the work gets done. Now, why don't you go down to the Mess and
get some lunch while I clean this up?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Then go terrorize Josh, pester Toby, antagonize the President for
all I care, but give me at least 15 minutes to fix this!" Margaret
said, the volume of her voice increasing as she waved her hands over
his desk.

"Ouch, Margaret, hurt a guys feelin's why dontcha?"

"We've worked together for how many years now?"

"Don't know, but it's been a long time."

"Yeah, it has been. And I have yet to offend you or otherwise hurt
your feelings. Now, go."

"All right, all ready, I'm going." Leo groused, rising from his
chair and walking out of his office.

As Margaret started sorting through the piles of binders, file
folders and papers, she found Leo's eyeglasses stuck inside a coffee
cup. `That man would try the patience of the angels in heaven,' she
thought, setting the glasses and mug on the credenza, so that she
could clean them up later.

Sam walked into Leo's office and stopped short at the sight of
Margaret digging through the accumulated flotsam and jetsam of the
Chief of Staff's desk.

"Whoa, call the EPA! What're you doing Margaret, rooting for
truffles?"

"You're a real wit, Sam. I just threw Leo out of here so I could
have some peace and quiet while sorting out this disaster zone."

"Oooooookay, I'll just be going then."

"Sorry, Sam, I didn't mean you. What's up?" Margaret asked, smiling
at the Deputy Communications Director.

"I need your help."

"What have you done?" Margaret asked, the beginnings of a glare
crossing her face like thunderclouds gathering on the near horizon.

"N-n-n-n-nothing, honest!" Sam stammered. "I just need some
practical advice."

"Okay, what's on your mind?"

"I want to fix dinner for a girl."

"A girl?"

"Yes, Margaret, a girl. Is that so hard to imagine?"

"Well, if you're planning on having dinner with a girl, you might
make it a whole lot easier on yourself if you just asked her what
kind of Happy Meal she'd like."

"I *beg* your pardon?"

"When you said you wanted to fix dinner for a girl, I got a mental
image of an eight year old. You're not robbing cradles are you
Sam?" Margaret asked, fully enjoying messing with Sam's mind. He
was always such an easy mark.

"Oh, hell, Margaret." Sam groaned, smacking his forehead with the
heel of his right hand. "You got me, again. Let me start over. I
would like to prepare dinner for a special woman, actually she's a
lady in every sense of the word. I need some suggestions about what
to fix."

"Let's start from scratch. Does she have any food allergies?"

"Not that I know of."

"Are there any foods that she particularly likes or dislikes?"

"The only thing I know she's fond of is carrot cake."

Margaret smiled, realizing that Sam was planning to cook dinner for
Ainsley. Her sweet tooth was already the stuff of legends among the
staff of the West Wing. "Well, okay, you've got dessert taken care
of. Now, considering where you work, I'm going to guess that you
don't have all day to spend in the kitchen, so this needs to be
relatively easy, but still impressive.

"Exactly!"

"Give me an hour or so to think about this, Sam. I'll come by your
office with a proposed menu and shopping list later on."

"Thanks, Margaret, you're a treasure."

"Sam, you flatter me. Now, get out of here and let me get this mess
cleaned up before His Eminence returns."

"His Eminence, I like that." Sam laughed. Waving at Margaret he
walked into the hall and jogged toward Josh's office to spread the
word that dinner was under control.

Half an hour later, Margaret was back at her desk, working on the
summary of the latest briefing from the State Department. Leo
entered her office from the hallway.

"Hey, Margaret, you get that done?"

"Yes, Leo, your desk is, once again, restored to order. Try not to
totally destroy it before midnight, huh?" Margaret smiled at her
boss. "Here are your glasses, by the way."

"Where'd you find them?"

"You don't want to know. I'll have the State Department thing for
you in a few minutes. You have the Joint Chiefs in the Oval in 15."

"Thanks Margaret." Leo walked into his office, closing the door
behind him.

Thursday, February 7, 2002 6:00 a.m. The West Wing – Chief of Staff's
Office

Margaret walked into her office, flipping the light switch and
unbuttoning her coat as she crossed the floor. Reaching for the
phone, she dialed the extension for the front security office. "Good
morning, this is Margaret Rigby. The Chief of Staff's office is
open. Thank you Bill, have a good day." Margaret replaced the phone
in the cradle, hung up her coat, turned on her computer and left the
office in search of coffee.

Returning from the kitchen, Margaret walked into Leo's office,
determined to prevent a repeat of yesterday's frustrations. Settling
into his desk chair, she began making piles of documents and folders
by subject matter. Later she'd organize them into the three piles
Leo worked best from: the things that had to be done right away, the
things that could wait, and the things he could farm out to her or
another member of the staff.

Half an hour later, she'd returned her boss' desk to some semblance
of normalcy. Before leaving his office, she turned on his computer
and straightened the couch cushions, folding the green and cream
afghan and putting it back in the closet. `Guess he spent at least
part of the night here, again.' Margaret thought, taking the
paperwork she knew he'd hand off to her back into her office.

1:45 p.m. – The West Wing – Toby Ziegler's Office

The Senior Staff, plus Donna, was gathered in Toby's office,
discussing plans for Margaret's birthday dinner.

"What's on the menu, Sam?" Donna asked.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Sam extracted the handwritten note
Margaret had left on his desk late yesterday afternoon. "Roasted
pork tenderloin with garlic and rosemary, scalloped potatoes, green
beans with almonds, tossed salad, and carrot cake for dessert."

"Sounds great." Josh enthused. "I got hungry just listening to
that."

"It does sound good." CJ agreed. "Sam, I want to help, why don't I
make the salad?"

"I'll bring a couple of bottles of wine." Toby offered.

Donna laughed. "I should have known carrot cake would be on the
menu. We all know it's her weakness. In fact, she gave me her
recipe for it a couple of years ago. Why don't I make that?"

"You sure you don't mind Donna?" Sam asked, relieved that his
friends were being so generous.

"I'm sure Sam."

"What should I do?" Josh asked.

"Stay out of the way!" Toby replied as everyone else in the room
laughed.

"Josh, you can come over tonight and help me make the carrot cake."

"Donna, I can't cook!"

"There's a first time for everything, Josh."

"Trust me, you don't want him in your kitchen." Sam replied,
mentally reliving the burnt pot roast incident of three years ago.

"He's right." Josh said. "How about if I take care of picking up a
birthday gift for her?"

"The one thing we hadn't thought of." CJ replied. "Anyone have any
suggestions?"

"Donna, you know her better than the rest of us. What do you think
she'd like?" Sam asked, leaning back on Toby's couch, his head
resting against the brown leather.

"I hadn't really thought about it. You could give her just about
anything and she'd be thrilled. I know she likes classical music,
ballet, all kinds of art and has a political mind like a steel trap."

"Margaret's a political junkie?" Josh laughed. "Although I guess
she'd have to be, after working for Leo for so long."

"Actually, Josh, she was hooked on politics long before she went to
work for Leo. Margaret has her Master's degree in Political Science
from George Washington University, and I bet I wasn't supposed to let
that cat out of the bag." Donna finished in a rush.

Toby stooped tossing one of his pink rubber balls in the air and
stared at Donna. "Margaret has a Master's degree? Our Margaret?"

"Is that so hard to imagine Toby? Margaret is an incredibly smart
woman, you men are just to self-absorbed to ever notice." CJ said,
snagging the ball from her friend's hand and rolling it back and
forth across his desk.

"Good for her." Sam replied. "But that still doesn't answer the
question of what sort of gift to get her."

"Well, if she's fond of music, how about tickets to something at the
Kennedy Center? The Kirov Ballet is in town for a long engagement.
Can anybody cash in any favors?" CJ asked.

"I know a guy there, let me make some calls. If it doesn't work out,
I'll come back for more help." Josh said.

"Okay then, everyone has their marching orders. We're done here.
Now, get out of my office."

Just as Toby finished his last sentence, the door opened and Leo
walked in. Looking around the room at his Senior Staff plus Donna,
he inquired, "Did I miss a meeting?"

"No Leo, we were just, you know, catching up." CJ said, walking
around her boss and exiting the room at rapid pace.

"Catching up, on what?"

"Current events, political theory, baseball statistics, Donna's
crappy love life." Josh said, following CJ out of Toby's office,
Donna right behind him.

"I have said it before, and will say it again. For a bunch of
brilliant political minds, you people can be damned strange." Leo
shook his head and walked back into the hallway, headed for the Oval
Office. Sam and Toby heaved a joint sigh of relief and went back to
work on the President's next radio address.

Friday, February 8, 2002, 8:00 a.m. – The Chief of Staff's Office

"Margaret!" Leo yelled, walking from the Oval into his office.

"Yes, Leo." Margaret answered, coming through the hallway door,
coffee carafe in her hand.

"Margaret, you're a mind reader." Leo said as she refilled his mug.

"What did you need?" Margaret asked.

"There's some trouble brewing on the trade bill. There's noise being
made that Manning and Bennick are not happy with the environmental
protections we've offered and are threatening to pull their support."

"That's eight votes, correct?"

"Yeah, listen I need for you to work with Donna and Ginger to get
meetings set up on the Hill for this morning. Josh, Sam, Toby, and I
are all going up there. I want this thing in the bag by 1:00 p.m. at
the latest."

"I'll take care of it right now. Anything else?"

Leo rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking that there was something
he should have remembered, but was unable to call it to
mind. "That's it for now."

"Yes, sir." Margaret left the office. Grabbing Leo's calendar from
her desk as she walked by, she headed for Donna's desk, stopping to
leave the coffee carafe in the kitchen.

Donna was just coming out of Josh's office when Margaret walked into
the Bullpen. "Hi Donna, I bet you know why I'm here."

"Trade bill's threatening to go south for the winter." Donna
replied. Reaching out she put an arm around Margaret's
shoulders. "Happy birthday!"

Margaret blushed, ducking her head. "Thanks, Donna, but I'd really
rather just forget it, if you don't mind."

"Mind, hell yes I mind! It's your birthday and you deserve to
celebrate. How about we escape this nut farm at noon and I'll take
you to lunch to celebrate."

"Let's see what we can do to get these meetings set up, and you're
on. Leo said he wants this settled by 1:00, so we may have to go
early." Margaret smiled at her friend as Josh walked out of the
office.

"Donna, you got that done yet? Oh, hi Margaret."

"Good morning, Josh. Donna and I will have the meetings set up in
about 10 minutes." Margaret replied, turning toward Donna. "Let's
find Ginger and get this taken care of."

True to her word, Margaret, Donna, and Ginger had their boss'
calendars cleared of prior engagements and meetings on the Hill
scheduled until 1:00. She stopped outside Leo's office, knocking on
the door before entering.

"Yeah." Leo called

Margaret entered from the hallway and handed Leo a typed
list. "Here's the meeting schedule for the four of you. The first
meeting is in 30, so you need to leave now." Margaret walked to Leo's
closet removing his overcoat and holding it as he put it on. Handing
him a stack of materials she continued, "Copies of the bill, your
copy has the potential problem sections highlighted. Also, your
calendar and a briefing book with the environmental regulations."

"Thanks Margaret, I'll be back whenever we get this resolved."

"Okay, now go or you're going to be late."

"Quit bein' a nag."

"Stop standing there like you have all day, because you don't"

"Leo, you coming, it's time to go!" Josh called from the opposite
end of the hallway.

"I rest my case." Margaret said, patting Leo on the shoulder and
walking back to her office.

12:30 p.m. – The West Wing – Donna Moss' Desk

"Thanks so much Donna, I can't remember a nicer birthday." Margaret
hugged her friend as they returned from lunch.

`You're welcome Margaret, I'm glad you enjoyed it. That was the
least . . . is that you or me?" Donna finished as the sound of a
cell phone ringing filled the air.

Reaching into her purse, Margaret removed her cell phone. "It's
me." "Margaret Rigby."

"Me, as well." Donna relied flipping her phone open to activate
it. "This is Donnatella Moss." She walked into Josh's office to
allow Margaret some privacy for her phone conversation. "Hi Josh.
You're done. That's good. Oh, okay, we'll be waiting. Yeah I got
it, we'll be ready when you get back." Disconnecting the call, Donna
walked back into the bullpen to find Margaret shrugging out of her
coat.

"That was Leo, they're headed back."

"Yeah, that was Josh, apparently we've got our work cut out for us
this afternoon with changes and copies. Why does this always happen
on Friday afternoon?"

"Because the cosmic paperwork gods have it in for us!" Margaret
laughed and walked back to her office.

4:00 p.m. – The West Wing – Communications Bullpen

Donna and Margaret walked into the bullpen and across to Ginger's
desk. "Got your section ready?" Donna asked.

Forking over stack of pages, Bonnie replied "All done. You ready
Ginger?"

"Yeah, let me get these last two pages from the printer and can start
to copy."

Margaret put all of the sections in order as Bonnie filled the paper
trays on photocopier.

"How many copies do we need?" Donna asked.

"Leo said 24 so we'd better make it 50. You know they'll wind up
distributing it to more people than originally intended."

"Hand me the first half of the bill and I'll put it in the feeder."
Bonnie said, reaching out to take the proffered papers from
Margaret.

Three minutes later, production came to a grinding halt. Ginger
looked at the display screen on the top of the copier and
moaned. "Misfeeds all over the place. I hate it when that happens.""
Opening the front panels of the copier she crouched down and started
removing the jammed paper. "Who's got the thinnest fingers? Mine
are too fat to reach the back of the machine."

"Allow me." Margaret said, stepping around Ginger and dropping to
her knees. "Bonnie, get me that flashlight Sam keeps in his office,
I need to get a better look at this."

Half an hour later the "copier from hell" had been set to rights. An
hour after that, the copies were done. By 7:00 p.m. everything was
collated, stapled, and on it's way to the Hill via White House
Courier.

Margaret wandered back into her office; her suit jacket over her arm,
staring woefully at her toner covered hands and ruined
manicure. `Guess I know what I'm doing tonight," she thought as she
walked into Leo's office. "Leo, the revised trade bill is being
delivered to the Hill right now. What else needs to be done?"

"I've got dinner with Fitzwallace and Nancy McNalley at 8:00. We're
done here, go ahead and get out of here at a halfway decent hour, for
once. Say, what happened to you?" Leo asked, noticing his
assistant's hands.

"Went ten rounds with the demonically possessed copier." Leo
laughed. "You think it's so funny, you try unjamming that spawn of
Satan sometime." Margaret smiled back at her boss. "I am out of
here. What time do you want to start in the morning?"

"Better make it early. Will be finalizing the trade bill. Have a
good night, Margaret."

"You too, Leo. Give my regards to the Admiral and Nancy." Margaret
walked back into her office, clearing her desk and grabbing her
briefcase, coat and purse, ignoring the flashing message light on her
phone.

8:15 p.m. – Margaret's Apartment

Margaret had just stepped inside her apartment when the phone began
to ring. "I am not answering that," she said aloud, dropping her
briefcase on the floor and reaching down to remove her high heeled
brown leather pumps. The phone continued to ring and Margaret leaned
over the writing desk to look at the caller id display. "Oh swell,"
she whined, picking up the receiver. "Hello, Sam."

"Hi Margaret, how'd you know it was me."

"Lucky guess, no seriously I have caller id on this phone. What's
up?"

"Well, you know that dinner I'm cooking?"

"The one for the special lady?"

"Uh yeah, here's the thing . . .I think I *might* have made a little
mistake."

"Well, let's see if I can talk you through it. What's the problem?"

"You remember how you told me to cook the tenderloin on low heat in
the crock pot?"

"Yeeeeessssssssss?" Margaret drawled the one syllable word out for
several seconds, already sensing where this was headed.

"I kind of forgot and cooked it on high. And now it's . . ."

"Burnt to a crisp, right Sam?" Margaret shook her head, wondering
just how a brilliant lawyer and writer like Sam messed up so many
things a significant portion of the population considered part of
daily living..

"Not quite, but I think it's close to the shoe leather category."
Sam said, making shushing motions at the four other people gathered
in his living room.

"Oh Sam, I don't know what to tell you."

"Listen, Margaret, I was afraid I might screw up, so I bought a back
up tenderloin, just in case. Could you come over here and help me
prepare something quick? She'll be here in about an hour. Please
I'm desperate." Sam put every ounce of angst possible into his
speech.

"Sam, I haven't even gotten out of my work clothes yet . . . oh hell,
give me fifteen minutes and I'll be there."

"You remember where I live. Thanks Margaret, you're a lifesaver."

"That's what they all say." Margaret moaned, hanging up the phone
and walking into the kitchen to clean her hands.

8:45 p.m. – Sam Seaborn's apartment

Margaret walked down the hall toward Sam's apartment, mentally
cursing him for his culinary ineptitude. Stopping in front of his
door, she pressed the buzzer.

Sam opened the door, a studied look of pure relief on his
face. "Thanks so much for coming Margaret, you've saved my neck."
Sam ushered the tall red head into the entrance hall. "Let me have
your coat."

Margaret slipped her coat from her shoulders, sniffing the air as she
handed it to Sam. "Well, it certainly doesn't smell like you burnt
the pork too badly."

Sam led the way into the living room. "That's because I didn't burn
it at all. Happy birthday, Margaret."

Margaret stood in the middle of the floor, stunned to see Josh,
Donna, Toby, and CJ sitting by the fire, smiling at her. "What
the . . ."

Sam wrapped his arm around her waist. "We're all here to celebrate
your birthday."

"Somebody has a big mouth!" Margaret said, laughing and pointing at
Donna.

"Sue me!" Donna replied

"Happy Birthday Margaret. May I pour you a glass of wine?" Toby
rose from his seat on the couch and crossed the room.

"Thank you Toby, and yes, please wine would be heavenly."

Sam and CJ went into the kitchen to put the final touches on dinner
as Toby filled wineglasses, setting them on the table.

Margaret sat on the hearth, next to Josh. Leaning into his shoulder
she said, "You know, Josh, if you kept your assistant busy, she
wouldn't have time to run around coming up with schemes like this."

Josh reached over and gave Margaret an affectionate kiss on the
cheek. "When have I *ever* been able to control Donna, birthday
girl?"

"Point taken."

"Dinner's ready!" CJ called, walking into the dining area with a
wooden salad bowl.

Everyone sat down at the dining table and began passing the platters
and bowls of fragrant food. Soft music played in the
background. "This is wonderful. I cannot imagine a nicer way to
spend my birthday, or a better group of people to spend it with."
Margaret said, raising her wineglass in salute to her friends.

"A toast" Toby said, standing up at the far end of the table.

"We're in for it now!" CJ said, eyes wide in mock horror.

"Save it for someone who cares, Claudia." Toby said, patting her on
the head like an errant child.

"He knows I hate it when he does that." CJ ducked her head out of
her best friend's reach.

"As I was saying before CJ so rudely interrupted me . . ." Toby
continued, "a toast to Margaret on her birthday. Thank you for being
such a vital part of the administration and for bringing class and
joy to all of our days. You're a fine lady and a dear friend. To
Margaret."

The reply of "To Margaret" chorused around the table as the six
friends raised their glasses.

"Thank you, everyone. You've made me feel younger than my years and
more loved than I have in quite some time." Margaret smiled warmly
at the assembled company.

Josh reached down to the floor, next to his chair, picking up a long
thin package wrapped in bright silver paper and tied with a plum
colored velvet ribbon. "We struggled long and hard with what to give
you as a birthday gift, Margaret. We thought about giving you a week
off, but realized Leo would never go for it." Everyone laughed
loudly. Josh continued, "We also thought about giving you a set of
books on political theory, but then decided against that, as you've
probably got tons left over from grad school. Anyway, this is from
all of us." Josh passed the package around the table to Margaret.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect this." Margaret said. "But, before
I open this, I want to state once again, for the record, that
Donnatella Moss has a big mouth. Really, Donna, you've been giving
away all my secrets; first my birthday and then my educational
background."

Donna reached across and slapped Josh in the back of the head. "Way
to go Josh!"

"To Donna's credit, she realized she'd misspoke when she let that
little bit of information slip." Sam said. "Don't be mad her, you
should be proud of the fact that you have your Master's degree. Hell
you should hang your degree in your office."

"Thank you, no. I really don't like calling attention to it."
Margaret blushed fiercely. "I much prefer to work in the background,
keeping the wheels of government moving along."

"And you do a fine job of it." CJ said. "We'd never survive without
you watching our collective backs. Now open that present. I want to
assure myself that Josh didn't screw this up!"

Margaret laughed, slipping the ribbon from the box, slitting the
paper with her fingernails. Carefully lifting the lid, she gasped in
surprise, tears filling her eyes. Two tickets to a Saturday evening
performance of the Kirov Ballet rested on a piece of white satin "How
on earth did you ever manage this? It's too much, I simply cannot
accept this."

"You can, and you should." Donna said. "We really want you to go to
the ballet and have a lovely time."

"Thank you so much. This is the perfect gift." Margaret placed the
box next to her dinner plate.

"Margaret, did you get your results yet?" CJ asked, then promptly
dropped her head into her hands. "Oh pissed hell! Sorry about
that." CJ shot Margaret an apologetic look.

"Results from what?" Toby asked, wondering why CJ looked so stricken.

"Well, apparently one's 37th birthday is when all the secrets come
out into the open." Margaret said. Getting up, she walked around
the table and leaned over the chair, hugging the Press
Secretary. "It's all right CJ, I don't mind them knowing."

"Again, knowing *what*?" Toby asked, rubbing the top of his head.

"Here's the deal. What I am about to tell you guys stays in this
room. No one and I mean no one else ever hears about this. That
includes the President, Charlie, the other assistants, and especially
Leo. Understood?"

"Sure Margaret, you've got our word. Now what's going on?"

Eight years ago, while Leo was in rehab, I was diagnosed with stage 2
breast cancer. I had a radical mastectomy of my right breast, which
was followed up with chemotherapy. I've been in remission since
then. CJ and I ran into one another at GW earlier this week when we
were both having our mammograms done, that's how she found out. I'm
fine, this was just my check up.

"Damn, I never had any idea." Josh said.

"You wouldn't have." Margaret said "I was very careful to conceal
it from the time the campaign started."

"Did you have reconstructive surgery?" Toby asked.

"Toby Ziegler, what do you know from reconstructive surgery?"
Margaret laughed at the Communications Director, surprised at his
knowledge.

"My sister Rachel had breast cancer about 6 years ago. When it came
time to make the decision about reconstruction, she asked me to help
her make a list pro and con and then argue the opposing view for her."

"You're a good brother Toby. To answer your question, no I did not
have my breast reconstructed. I wear a prosthesis."

"Smart woman. So does Rachel."

Josh stood up and raised his wineglass. "Another toast to Margaret,
who is as brave as she is beautiful." Everyone clinked glasses and
drank.

"Someone once said `You only live once, but if you play it right,
once is enough.' In the last eight years, if there's one thing I've
learned, it is that every day, for reasons great or small, should be
celebrated. Thank you for helping me celebrate." Margaret replied.

"Okay, let's stop pestering Margaret about her education and her
health. Who's ready for dessert?" CJ asked.

"I'm stuffed, can we wait a bit?" Sam replied. Everyone else around
the table nodded their agreement.

"Let me help clear the table, it's the least I can do." Margaret
stood up, beginning to gather dishes.

"Nonsense, you're the birthday girl, we can get this disposed of in
no time." CJ said. "Sam, lead the way to your dishwasher!"

Toby grabbed Margaret's right hand and pulled her across the living
room with him. "Come one, let's check out Princeton's cd collection."

"Why are we doing this?"

"Because I want to listen to something a little more suitable than
Handel's Water Music."

"What did Handel ever do to you?" Margaret laughed lightly.

"Not a thing. I actually enjoy classical music a great deal."

"Same here. What are you looking for?" Margaret idly browsed the
shelves crowded with an eclectic mix of music, her arm resting on
Toby's shoulder.

"This." Toby removed a cd case from the shelf, popping it open and
carefully removing the disc. Stopping the current cd, Toby opened
the cover of the player, removing a disc, and gently placing his
selection into the carousel. Setting the player in motion again, he
waited until the disc was in place and then depressed the selection
button until the digital display showed that the 10th song was cued
to play first.

Margaret smiled as the smooth jazz flowed from the speakers. "Diana
Krall?"

"That's correct. Dance with me, Margaret?"

"I'd be honored, Toby." Margaret allowed Toby to take her hand again
and lead her into the middle of Sam's living room. Placing her left
hand on his shoulder and her right one in his, Margaret smiled as
Toby began leading her around the room, singing the words softly.

"I had no idea you could sing, Toby. You have a lovely voice."

"Like your education, it's not something I usually share with
others. Do you know this song?"

"Yes, it's one of my many favorites." Margaret looked up at Toby and
began singing along with him:

"How much do I love you? I'll tell you no lie.
How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky?
How many times in a day do I think of you?
How many roses are sprinkled with dew?
How far would I travel, just to be where you are?
How far is the journey from here to a star?
And if I ever lost you, how much would I cry?
How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky?

Toby and Margaret continued to dance, as Sam, CJ, Donna, and Josh
stood in the dining room, looking on. Sam stepped away from the
group, turning his head towards a faint noise.

Walking into the living room, he tapped on Toby's shoulder. "Toby, I
really hate to do this . . ."

"Then don't, Sam. I'm not letting you cut in."

"It's not that, Toby, your cell phone's ringing."

"Well, then, answer it. I'm a little busy here." Toby replied,
earning a giggle from Margaret.

"Uh, Toby, it's in your pocket, your pant's pocket, I might add."

"So, if you want the damn thing answered, get it!"

"Josh?" Sam turned and looked at his best friend.

"Sorry, Sam, you're on your own there!" Josh laughed and put his
hand out to Donna, "Care to dance?"

"I'd love to Josh." Donna smiled, leading Josh into the living room.

"Okay, Toby slow down, damn it." Sam said, reaching around Toby's
waist, slipping his hand into the right pocket of Toby's black wool
slacks, removing the still ringing phone. "Toby Ziegler's phone, Sam
Seaborn speaking."

From the other end of the line, Leo's voice sounded mildly frantic
and highly pissed. "Sam, what the hell are you up to? Where's Toby?"

"He's busy at the moment. What's up?"

"Where the hell is everyone? I can't find anybody, Josh, CJ, nobody
is answering their *damn* phones tonight!"

`Hell's fires.' Sam thought to himself, realizing that everyone
else's phones were probably stashed in the entry closet with their
coats, handbags and briefcases. His own was in the bedroom, on his
nightstand. "What's going on, Leo?" The mention of the Chief of
Staff's name stopped everyone in their tracks.

"The trade bill is about to go under. Permanently!" Leo yelled into
the phone. "When Toby comes back, get him into a car and both of you
hightail it in here. Now, if I can just find Josh and CJ. Hell, I
can't even locate Margaret!" Leo moaned.

"Calm down Leo. I think I know how to reach CJ and Josh. And I know
Margaret is with Donna. I'll get everyone together and we'll all be
there as quickly as possible."

"Thanks, Sam. Hurry, we've got to save this thing or it's our
collective asses on the line."

"Got it." Sam said, closing the cell phone and ending the call.
Flipping the phone back to Toby he grimaced. "That was Leo, anyone
wanna guess how we'll be spending the rest of this evening?"

"Rescuing the trade bill from a watery grave?" Josh guessed, walking
across the room to turn off the stereo. "Leo pissed?"

"You could say that. Primarily because he couldn't locate any of
us. Margaret I told him you were with Donna so you two will need to
play that off if he asks, which he probably won't. Okay, lets split
up and head back to the White House."

"Wait a minute!" Donna said, placing both hands on her hips. "I
busted my ass on Margaret's birthday cake and we're not going to
leave it here! Let me grab the cake carrier and we'll take it with
us."

"Yeah, midnight snack." Josh said, reaching into the closet to
remove coats and bags.

"Well, this is a craptastic end to a perfect evening." CJ said,
putting on her coat, as Toby lifted her hair above the
collar. "Sorry it had to end like this."

"No sweat you guys. Remember, we serve at the pleasure of the
President." Margaret said, reaching into her coat pockets for her
gloves.

"Don't remind me." CJ smirked

"Is everyone ready?" Sam asked. "Let's move out."


11:10 p.m. – The West Wing

The Senior Staff, plus Donna and Margaret, hurried through the Staff
Entrance, signing in and rushing through the lobby.

"Give me about five minutes with Leo before you all start parading
in." Margaret advised. "Someone's gotta take the heat, and it
doesn't need to be the four of you."

"Well, hell, Margaret, he couldn't find any of us, why shouldn't he
yell at all of us?" Sam reasoned.

"Because he'll yell at me, get it out of his system and go on. If he
yells at you all, there's likely to be some arcane form of Leo-
punishment attached to it. Any of you particularly looking forward
to that little foray into agony?" Everyone shook his or her
head. "All right then, let's do this my way. Donna, check with
Charlie and see if he has any changes from the President that need to
be made to the legislation. Also, call Carol, Bonnie and Ginger in,
this sounds like all hands on deck." Margaret moved down the hall in
the opposite direction, peeling her gloves off as she went.

Dropping her coat and purse on the chair next to her desk, she
stepped through the open doorway into Leo's office. "Trouble with
the trade bill?"

Leo raised his head, looking over the rims of his glasses at his
assistant. "Margaret, I honestly don't know if I've ever been so
glad to see you in my entire life. Where have you been? I tried
calling your place, the cell phone . . ."

"Yeah, Leo, listen I'm sorry about that. Donna and I went to a late
movie and I turned my phone off. Good thing Donna left her beeper on,
Sam got in touch with us that way and, well, here I am."

"We've got a solid night's worth of work ahead of us. Get the Senior
Staff in here as quickly as possible. Manning and Bennick balked on
the revisions and are now marshalling support to defeat the bill.
We've got to come up with the right incentive package and get them
back on board before they can pull the rug out from under us. Oh,
call Donna, I want the two of you in here also."

"Absolutely. Um, Leo?"

Leo already had his head buried in the legislation again. Without
looking up he replied, "Yeah, Margaret?"

"Don't you feel the need to yell at me about this?"

Leo laughed, looking at his assistant, standing in the doorway,
rubbing her hands together as if to chase away a chill. "Not really,
no. I think I got it out of my system earlier when I reached Sam on
the phone. Thanks anyway."

Margaret nodded, walking back into her office

Saturday, February 9, 2002 6:00 a.m. – The West Wing – Communications
Bullpen

Bonnie, Carol, Donna, Ginger, and Margaret sat around two desks in
the middle of the bullpen in their stocking feet, high heels long
forgotten. Each woman had a stack of finished copies of the new
trade bill and was stapling and addressing envelopes as quickly as
humanly possible.

"Okay, gang, I think that's it." Margaret sighed, reaching back with
her left hand to rub the muscles in her next.

"I've got a courier on standby." Bonnie said reaching for the
phone. "Let me get him up here and we can have these things out of
our hair."

"A-men!" Donna said, scooting back in her chair and propping her hose
covered feet on the desktop. "I think I need two days of sleep to
compensate for all the adrenaline I've used up since midnight."

The five women rose slowly as the courier walked into the room.
Handing him a plastic mail crate filled with the documents, Bonnie
went through the instructions. "Take this to the side entrance of
the Rayburn Building. They're expecting you." Smiling and wishing
the ladies a good morning, the courier hefted the crate onto one
shoulder and left the Bullpen.

"All done?" Josh called as he, Toby, Sam, and CJ staggered into the
room.

"The courier just left. How was Staff?" Donna asked.

"Manning and Bennick are pleased with the new draft." Josh answered.

"More importantly, the President is pleased. So pleased that he
offered us a gratuitous lecture on the origins of modern trade.
Modern meaning that he started from the Chinese Silk Road and moved
forward." CJ said, flopping into a chair. "I may never move again."

"Guess what we forgot?" Donna asked the room at large.

"Please, dear Lord, tell me we did not leave something out of that
bill. If we did, I may have to beat myself unconscious with a
ruler." Toby intoned.

"No, Toby, we forgot all about the cake!"

"We did, didn't we? It's in my office, I'll go get it." Josh did an
about face and headed toward his office.

Josh returned a couple of moments later with the plastic cake
carrier. Donna followed him with plates, napkins, plastic cutlery,
and a serrated knife she'd borrowed from the Mess.

CJ started cutting slices of cake and handing them out. "Margaret,
you want to take a piece of this to Leo?"

"Yeah, I'll do that. I just won't tell him what it's from."
Margaret smiled at her friends.

"What is it from?" Carol asked.

"A night of debauchery and drunkenness gone horribly wrong." Toby
replied, winking at Margaret.

Walking down the hall, Margaret stuck her head into the reception
area for the Oval Office. "Good morning Charlie."

"Morning Margaret. I figured you'd be long gone."

"Nope, not until Leo leaves. CJ and the rest of the crew are in the
Bullpen devouring a carrot cake. You might want to go snag a piece
before it's all gone."

"I will, thanks."

"See you later." Margaret continued toward her office, noting that
Leo had left the hall entrance to his office open. Sticking her head
in the door she cleared her coughed to get Leo's attention.

"Yeah Margaret, you need something?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I need for you to relieve me of one of
these pieces of carrot cake." Margaret set the plate and fork in the
center of Leo's desk."

"You make this?"

"Hardly. Actually, Donna made it."

"When did she find time to do that?"

"Probably between the hours of midnight and 3:00 a.m." Margaret
smiled at her boss.

"This is good." Leo remarked

"Yeah, Donna is actually a very good cook." `And Sam's not half bad
either.' She thought to herself.

"Listen, I know I don't say this very often but I really appreciate
everything you did last night and this morning. You kept us on track
and coordinated all the sections of the bill. I appreciate it."

"Just doing my job Leo."

"Jeez, Margaret, learn to take a compliment, will ya?"

Margaret blushed near the shade of her hair. "Thank you Leo." She
replied softly. "Leo, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Does it ever get any easier?" Margaret waved her hand about to
indicate the Oval and Leo's office. "Do the people on the Hill ever
start taking us seriously to the point that each piece of legislation
the President submits is not picked apart line by line? I understand
partisan politics and the system of checks and balances. I know
that, in the process of discharging their duties, members of Congress
must be responsible to their constituents and make sure proposed
legislation is fair. But I don't understand why it seems that we are
seldom, if ever, able to truly reach across party lines when it comes
to bills."

"Honestly, Margaret, I don't know the answer to that. Bipartisan
relations are difficult to achieve in the best of times. Right now,
we're still being punished for the President withholding his
illness. They don't feel like they can trust us. Will they ever
trust us again? Probably. When will that happen? Well, that's one
of those imponderable questions no one has the exact answer to."

"I understand, Leo. Thanks for explaining that to me."

"I didn't explain that much. You pretty much had it figured out on
your own."

"What else needs to be done, Leo?"

"At the risk of tempting fate, go home Margaret." Leo smiled at her,
dropping the empty paper plate and plastic fork into the trashcan
next to his desk.

"You don't have to tell me twice. Call me if you need me. I promise
to leave my cell phone on."

"Will do. Get some sleep, Margaret."

"Take your own advice Leo McGarry." Margaret walked into her office
and looked down at the flashing message light. Sighing, she sat down
at her desk and punched in the extension for her private mailbox.
Reaching for a pad and ink pen, Margaret began making notes.
Flipping the page on the note pad, Margaret made a separate
notation. Ripping the second sheet from the tablet, she tucked it
into her purse, picked up her coat and gloves, and walked out to her
car.

Fin

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