Serenely Independent

Spoilers: Anything through 100,000 airplanes, just in case.
Disclaimer: The West Wing and its characters are the property of
Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, Warner Brothers, and NBC.
Anybody you don't recognize from the show is of my own creation. No
infringement is intended.
Rating R – For language and a couple of medical descriptions in the
story and the body parts associated with them. Also for a brief
reference to foaling – the process by which baby horses come into
this world. If minor discussions of blood squick you out, you might
want to turn back.
Feedback: As lovely as a vase of red tulips on Valentine's Day
Summary: Somebody turns on the light for Leo.
Author's Note: For Lin, the beta diva and for Jeanine who made me do
it! For Flip – the award winning genius – with kudos and cheers from
her fan club. Also for the patients and survivors of breast cancer,
because . . . well you'll understand why. The song at the end of
this story comes from the musical My Fair Lady.

Saturday morning, February 9, 2002 10:00 a.m. – Margaret's Apartment

It had been a long night, the longest of nights to be precise.
Everyone had worked through until dawn, busting their asses to save
the trade bill. Thankfully, it appeared that all parties were
satisfied and the bill would actually come up for a vote this week.
All of which left the way open for the first rush of the next Bartlet
campaign.

Margaret pondered all of this as she walked through her apartment.
Exhausted, but too keyed up to fall asleep, she had taken a shower
and washed her hair, put on her favorite long white cotton gown and
made a pot of Earl Grey tea. Deciding that breakfast was in order,
she popped a cinnamon raisin bagel into the toaster and retrieved a
carton of yogurt from the refrigerator. Sitting at the counter that
served as a pass through between the kitchen and living room,
Margaret spooned strawberry banana yogurt into her mouth and glanced
through the Saturday edition of the Post. The toaster discharged the
bagel; the smell of warm cinnamon filling the air. Margaret put the
bagel on a plate and carried it back to her seat at the counter.

After breakfast, Margaret washed her plate and spoon, setting them in
the wooden rack to dry. Pouring herself another cup of tea, she
meandered into her living room and stood in front of the writing desk
that occupied the space next to the front door. "Oh hell, might as
well get this over with," she said to the empty room. Reaching down,
she hefted her black leather shoulder bag from its resting-place on
the ladder back chair that sat in front of the desk. Opening her
purse, she pulled out the phone message she'd written earlier, while
still at the West Wing. After reading the note several times,
Margaret shrugged her shoulders. Wadding the slip of paper into a
small ball, she tossed it onto the nearby wastebasket and walked down
the hall toward the bathroom, intent on brushing and flossing.

Breakfast done, her teeth clean, and her skin moisturized, Margaret
finally felt ready for sleep. Only one chore remained. Oh she could
put it off, but what would that profit? Sitting on the side of her
four-poster bed, Margaret lifted the receiver of the tan cordless
phone and dialed the number from memory. After three rings the phone
was answered.

"Matthews residence." Margaret recognized the voice of Dr. Corrine
Matthews' eldest daughter.

"Hi Lucinda, this is Margaret Rigby, how are you?"

"Margaret, long time, no conversation. I'm doing okay, all things
considered. How's life at the center of the political universe?"

"Busy, too busy. How's college life?"

"Ehhh, it's okay. I'm never going to be my mother made over that's
for sure. I loathe the science courses." Lucinda whined.

"Oh, come now, it can't be *that* bad," Margaret cajoled. "Although,
come to think of it, biology was never my best subject. Is your
mother home? I'm returning her call."

"Just a moment, I'll get her for you." Lucinda left Margaret
listening to dead air as she went in search of her mother.

A few moments later, another voice came on the phone. "Margaret, you
still there?"

"Good morning Corrine, have I pulled you away from something
important?"

"Just housework" the older woman replied. "I was beginning to worry
that you didn't get the message."

"I'm terribly sorry. We were having a crisis filled day at the White
House yesterday. The new trade legislation almost derailed and we
spent all night getting it back on track." Margaret explained.

"Sounds like fun." Corrine chuckled.

"More than the law allows. But I'm guessing you didn't ask me to
call so that you could hear the latest tales of political woe from
the Bartlet Administration."

"You're right. I'll come straight to the point since I know you
prefer it that way."

"Please do – I'm sitting down."

"Good. Your mammogram results were delivered yesterday. There's a
small lump in the upper left quadrant of your breast, looks to be
about 2 centimeters in diameter, that I'd like to get a closer look
at."

Margaret felt a trickle of sweat run down the middle of her spine.
Shivering briefly, she asked. "Closer meaning what, exactly?"

"Since it's so small and in an easily accessible location, I'd like
to excise it using local anesthesia, and send it out for biopsy."

Margaret winced involuntarily at hearing the word biopsy. Wasn't
that where all the hell started on the last go round? Drumming the
fingers of her right hand on her knee, Margaret gnawed at her lower
lip.

"You still with me?" Corrine's voice echoed through the phone line.

"Huh? Oh yeah, Corrine. Sorry, I flaked out there for a moment."

"Quite all right. We were talking – or rather I was talking – about
removing the lump."

Forcing herself to pay attention, Margaret replied, "When do you want
to do this?"

"As soon as possible. Let me take a look at my calendar." Margaret
heard the faint beeps of her oncologist's Palm Pilot as she pulled up
her schedule. "What about Tuesday afternoon?"

"That's no good." Margaret answered, thinking of the committee
meetings on the trade bill. "How about Friday, I can actually do it
any time that day."

"Leo must be out of the office then."

"Yes, a three city series of campaign visits."

"When are you going to tell him about all this? He *is* your boss,
he deserves to know."

"Five minutes after Satan shovels snow."

"Why haven't you told him Margaret? It's been almost a decade since
you were diagnosed."

"I've not told him because I don't want him to worry about me. He's
got more than enough on his plate without wondering whether or not
his assistant's cancer is going to recur. And if it does come back,
the last thing he needs to focus on is whether I've got my head in
the game or down the toilet."

"Do you keep it from him because you don't want him to worry? OR is
it because you're afraid the news would drive him back to the bottle?"

"Corrine . . ." Margaret said, swiping at her eyes with her right
hand.

"Just calling it like I see it," the oncologist said. "He'd probably
take the news better than you think."

"Yeah, maybe." Margaret reached for the box of tissues on her
bedside table. "So, Friday?"

"How about 2:00 p.m.?"

"That's fine

"I'll have Debbie call you with the details. Make sure you have
someone accompany you. You'll not be able to drive afterwards."

"Got it."

"Margaret, are you going to be okay? I worry about you being alone
with all this."

"What are you, my oncologist or my mother?"

"I'm your oncologist, who also happens to be your friend. We've been
through a great deal since you were diagnosed."

"I appreciate that Corrine, I truly do. But it's not like we haven't
been down this road before . . . I'll be fine, honest."

"I'll take your word for it. You know this lump might turn out to be
benign."

"From your mouth to God's ears."

"Call me if you have any questions."

"I won't."

"Probably not, but the offer stands."

"And I appreciate it. See you Friday, doc."

"Goodbye, Margaret."

"Bye." Margaret replaced the phone in its console. Standing up
slowly, she walked across the bedroom to the full-length mirror.
Peeling off her nightgown, Margaret examined the scar that ran across
the right side of her chest. Fingering it softly she thought, not
for the first time, that Corrine and the surgeon had done an
outstanding job. The scar line was neat and thin, practically a work
of art. Hesitantly, Margaret's fingers traveled to her left breast,
reaching the general area where the lump was located. Rotating her
fingers in a clockwise pattern, she felt for the lump, but was unable
to locate it. Walking back across the room, she lay down on the near
side of her bed, propping her left arm behind her head. Once again,
she felt for the lump, the tips of her fingers reaching the telltale
irregularity after a few seconds. Finding the lump infiltrated the
abstract elements of the earlier phone call and brought everything
into focus; all hard edges and cold realities. Margaret began to
cry, hot tears washing down her cheeks in earnest. Reaching down and
pulling the duvet over her shoulders, the tall red head cried herself
to sleep.

Five hours later, Margaret awoke to the sound of the telephone
ringing. Flinging her right arm across her eyes, she groped blindly
for the bedside table, almost knocking over the lamp in her struggle
to locate the offending device. Finally her fingers gained purchase
on the receiver and she lifted it toward her left ear.

"Huh-lo" she managed to mumble. Bushing her hair out of her eyes,
Margaret listened to the caller for a moment, then replied, "I'm
sorry, you have the wrong number." Rolling onto her left side, she
hung up the phone and stared through the sheers at her bedroom window
at the waning afternoon light. A glance at her alarm clock
reinforced the fact that she had slept the afternoon away.

Getting out of bed, Margaret retrieved the nightgown she'd taken off
hours earlier. Slipping her long thin arms into the smooth fabric,
she thought back on the earlier conversation with her oncologist.
Walking through the apartment, Margaret began to mentally lecture
herself. `Okay Margaret Rigby, it's time for you to face this head
on, just like you did the first time. A pity party is all well and
good, for about 30 minutes. It's just a lump, not a death sentence.
You *can* do this, you have to. Remember, the best defense is a
strong offense. It's not just about you and this thing. You have
work to do, Leo depends on you, the Administration depends on you.'
Standing in the middle of her living room, she though about one of
the President's favorite lines. "Break's over," she said out loud.

Setting her briefcase on top of the desk, Margaret removed her laptop
and plugged it into the outlet by the front door. Depressing the
power button, she went into the bedroom for a pair of white
terrycloth slippers to shield her feet from the chill of the hardwood
floor.

Settling into the ladder back chair, she logged onto the Internet,
typed in the URL for Amazon.com, and began searching for the most
recent works on breast cancer. Compiling a sizeable list, she shut
down the computer and stowed the list in her purse. The clock on the
corner of her desk showed 5:43 p.m. Knowing that she would be unable
to go back to sleep until late that night, Margaret decided to get
cleaned up and run a few errands.

Saturday Evening, February 9, 2002 7:45 p.m. – Barnes & Noble

Margaret sat in the café of the Georgetown Barnes & Noble, drinking a
latte and reviewing the list of books she planned to look for.

"Tell me you've had some sleep since we parted company this morning."

Margaret recognized the voice long before she raised her head. "Not
at all, Toby. I'm going for the walking zombie of the West Wing
award," she said with a smile. "What brings you into Barnes & Noble
on a Saturday night?"

"Couldn't sleep," the Communications Director replied. "I thought
perhaps I could find a book so boring that just reading a couple of
paragraphs would put me under."

"War and Peace works for me."

"If I hadn't read it and actually enjoyed it in college, that might
be a viable option."

"You actually *enjoyed* that book? I should have known." Margaret
smiled at her colleague. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? Would
you like to join me?"

"Yes, thank you." Toby placed his coffee cup on the table and
settled into the chair across from Margaret. Noticing the sheet of
legal paper in front of her, he asked, "Making a list of everything
we need to accomplish next week?"

"No it's a list of people to bump off because they tried to screw us
on the trade bill."

Toby laughed at Margaret's wisecrack. "This I've gotta see." Before
she could object, Toby reached across the table, snagging the single
sheet of paper and pulling it in front of his coffee cup. As he
began to read, down the list, his smile was replaced by a look of
confusion. "Dr. Susan Love's Breast Book, Be a Survivor: Your Guide
to Breast Cancer Treatment . . . Margaret, this isn't a hit list,
it's a reading list."

"Very astute Toby"

"And, judging by these titles . . . well . . ." Toby fumbled for
something to say.

Margaret put her hand over Toby's, silencing her friend. "My
oncologist left a message at the office that I didn't get until this
morning. My mammogram showed a small lump in my left breast."

"Shit."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Margaret, I am so damned sorry, you don't deserve this, shouldn't
have to go through this again."

"Toby, no one should have to go through this period. But cancer is a
fact of life; it's a fact of my life. However, as Dr. Matthews
informed me this morning, it might be benign."

"Yeah . . ."

Margaret grimaced. "I sense a *but* coming on. Let me finish that
sentence for you . . . but the fact that I've already had one breast
removed does not bode well for this lump."

"Pretty much." Toby nodded, turning his hand so that it was holding
Margaret's.

"Statistics aside," Margaret continued, "I'm going to make every
effort not to obsess over this. Hell, it hasn't even been removed
yet. I got through the last episode with humor and a positive
attitude and I'll handle this one the same way. If it's malignant,
well I'll deal with that when the biopsy report comes back."

"When are you having the lumpectomy done?"

"Friday at 2:00."

"Good thing Leo's out of town with the President that day." Pausing
to gather his thoughts, Toby turned loose of Margaret's hand and
pushed her book list back to her side of the table. He knew Margaret
must be going through seven kinds of hell and he wanted to help, if
he could. "I know this comes out of left field, but do you want me
to take the afternoon off and go with you?"

Margaret chuckled lightly. "Toby, that's probably the sweetest offer
I've ever had and I love you for being such a good friend. I think
I'm going to ask CJ to go with me. Not that I wouldn't want you
there, but this is going to require someone getting me home and
making sure I get into bed with an ice pack. I don't think you want
to be responsible for all that entails."

Toby blushed furiously. "Uh, no. I don't know which one of us would
be more uncomfortable."

"Thankfully we'll never have to find out." Margaret answered with a
smile.

Companionable silence settled over the table as the pair finished
their coffee.

"So, have you checked on these books?" Toby nodded toward the list.

"Not yet, I needed to be fortified with a caffeine fix first."

"Are you suitably caffeinated now?"

Margaret nodded. "I believe so."

"Then why don't we see how much of this list we can locate?"

"Toby, that's kind of you but I don't want to keep you from
purchasing your personal equivalent of `War and Peace' and getting
the sleep I know you need."

"Margaret, I just drank a large cup of strong, black, caffeine loaded
coffee. I will not be ready to sleep for a few hours yet."

"In that case, let's go." Margaret and Toby rose from the table and
walked to the back to the bookstore, where the health and nutrition
books were located. Between the two of them, they located four of
the six titles Margaret had written down.

Walking toward the front f the store, Margaret cast a sideways glance
at the Communications Director. "Now you need to find something
sleep inducing."

"Any suggestions?"

"Well, you've already read Tolstoy, let me think for a moment."
Smiling widely, she gently nudged Toby in the arm with her right
elbow. "How about Harry Potter?"

"What do you think brought me here in the first place?"

Margaret shot Toby a confused glance. "Because you couldn't
sleep . . . oh hold the phone . . . *you* were reading Harry Potter
and instead of putting you out it kept you awake!" Margaret started
laughing.

"Give the lady a gold star." Toby said, laughing along and shaking
his head.

"Well, this is news, I never figured you for a Harry Potter fan."

"Neither did I. My nephews gave me the books for Christmas. I
started the first one this morning and was 50 pages along before I
looked up. What about you, have you read them?"

"Not yet, my brother and his family sent them to me as a birthday
gift. Maybe I'll read one while I'm in bed recovering."

"Light reading, that's a good idea." Nodding his head toward the
biography section, Toby continued, "I'm going to see if there's
something over there that will do the trick."

"Good luck. I'll see you tomorrow." Margaret smiled and turned
toward the checkout counter.

"Why don't you wait for me and we can get dinner after we're through
here? If you don't have other plans, that is."

"No other plans, other than dinner out of a box and a couple of hours
reviewing briefs for Leo."

"Dinner it is then." Toby nodded.

"I'll sit over here and wait while you find your book." Margaret
walked to a nearby row of chairs and settled in, looking through the
books she'd selected.

A few minutes later, Toby stood in front of her, two thick volumes in
his hand. "All set."

Margaret looked up from the text she was engrossed in. "What did you
find?"

"The new McCullough biography of John Adams, which I will probably
find endlessly fascinating, and one on Marie Antoinette that should
do the trick."

Toby and Margaret paid for their books and exited the store, standing
on the sidewalk watching people stroll past. It was a pleasant
evening, unseasonably warm for February.

"What would you like for dinner?" Toby inquired.

"I truly have no preference, you decide."

"There's an excellent Vietnamese restaurant across the street. Do
you like Vietnamese food?"

"Adore it." Margaret said with a wide grin. "Lead on."

The two staffers waited for the traffic light to change and hurried
across the intersection. Toby put his hand at the small of
Margaret's back and guided her to a small building a few doors down
from the corner. Bright fuschia and black awnings hung over the
windows and door. Reaching out, Toby grasped the brass handle and
opened the door, motioning Margaret in ahead of him.

The hostess on duty smiled at Toby as they walked through the
entryway. "Mr. Ziegler, how are you this evening? It's been too
long."

Toby glanced around at the bustling restaurant. "I'm great Sandra.
I'd like you to meet my friend and colleague Margaret Rigby. Can you
squeeze two more in this sardine can?"

Sandra laughed at one of her favorite customers. "For you, always.
Follow me." Leading the pair to the back of the restaurant, she
installed them at a cozy booth.
"How's your semester going?" Toby asked the young woman. Turning to
Margaret he elaborated, "Sandra is a senior in political science at
your alma mater."

"So far, so good. I'm not real fond of my International Relations
class."

"Who's the professor?" Margaret asked.

"Dr. Harper, you know him?"

"Know him, I spent the worse semester of my graduate school career in
his classroom." Margaret replied, not bothering to repress a
shudder. "That man could give lessons in how *not* to teach a
college course. Unfortunately, he's brilliant and you'll actually
learn quite a bit if you can stick with it."

"I'll remember that." Sandra replied. "I'll have someone come get
your drink orders. Enjoy your meal."

Toby and Margaret looked over the menus. "So, tell me what you'd
recommend." Margaret said.

Saturday Evening, February 9, 2002 10:20p.m. – Georgetown

Toby and Margaret walked out of the restaurant and toward the
corner. "Thank you for dinner Toby. You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. You can repay the favor and cook dinner for me some
time."

"You're on. I'm actually a decent cook."

"That's what Donna tells us. Plus those recipes you gave Sam for
your birthday dinner were delicious. Where did you park?"

"Just around the corner from the bookstore."

Toby and Margaret walked across the street and down the block to her
sedan. Stopping beside the car, Toby waited as Margaret stowed her
books in the back seat. "So, I'll see you at the White House in the
morning." Toby said, his hand on the hood of Margaret's car.

"Yeah, I think Leo wants to get an early start. Especially since we
didn't work today. Thanks again Toby, for everything. You're a good
friend." Margaret leaned forward and gave the Communications
Director a hug.

Slightly stunned, Toby wrapped his arms around Leo's assistant,
moving his head back to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're
entirely welcome Margaret. Everything is going to be fine, you'll
see." Toby stepped back and opened the driver's side door. "Get
some sleep; you don't need to be up all night working."

"Take your own advice Toby. Good night." Margaret shut the car door
and started the ignition. Waving at Toby, she pulled into traffic
and headed home.

Sunday morning, February 10, 2002 7:30 a.m. – The West Wing – CJ
Cregg's Office

Surrounded by the Sunday newspapers, the White House Press Secretary
juggled a pair of highlighter markers and a cup of coffee. "Where on
earth did I put my scissors?" she wondered, rooting through her
middle desk drawer. The sound of someone knocking at the door halted
her search. "C'mon in!"

Margaret stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. "Got
a moment CJ?"

"Sure, have a seat. What's on your mind?"

"Well, there's this thing . . ."

CJ got a creeping sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. "Oh no,
who's done what wrong now?"

"No, CJ, it's nothing like that. I, uh, I need your help, it's . . .
uh . . ."

"Margaret, what's wrong? I've never known you to be at a loss for
words."

Deciding just to get it over with, Margaret took a deep breath. "My
mammogram came back dirty. There's a lump and the doctor wants to
take it out on Friday afternoon, I can't go alone, and I wanted to
ask if you could go with me. If you can't just tell me and I'll find
someone else, it's not that big a deal." Blurting all the
information out in a rush, Margaret paused for breath.

"Hold on, slow down for a moment. Your mammogram showed a lump?"
Margaret nodded, biting her lower lip. "When did you find out about
this?"

"The doctor's office called Friday afternoon. I didn't get the
message until Saturday, which is when I called Dr. Matthews at home."

"She's your oncologist?"

"Yes, I've been seeing her since I was diagnosed."

"And she's the one who will remove the lump?"

"Yeah, it will be an outpatient procedure. They practice she works
with actually has a small room set up for these procedures in their
office complex."

"How are you holding up?"

"Not bad, everything considering. I was a waste Saturday morning,
but I'm okay now. I just want to get it over with, that way I know,
one way or another."

"What time is your appointment?"

"We agreed on 2:00 that afternoon."

CJ opened her planner, turning the pages ahead to Friday. That's
fine, since the President and *Leo* are on the campaign trail that
day it should be quiet around here. I can have Simon cover the 4:00
briefing." Picking up the phone she punched in three
numbers. "Carol, can you keep my calendar clear Friday afternoon?
Yeah, and tell Simon I need for him to do the last briefing that
day. Thanks." Hanging up the phone, CJ smiled at Margaret. "Okay,
we're set."

"Thanks so much CJ, I really appreciate this."

"Is there anything special I need to be aware of?"

"Not really. More than anything I need someone to drive me home and
help me get into bed. I won't be able to drive or dress myself for a
couple of days. I really appreciate your willingness to do this."

"No problem. You tell Leo yet?"

"Nope, and I am not going to."

"What if, well . . ."

"If the pathology report comes back malignant, I'll have to tell
him. Until then ignorance is bliss."

"Okay, that's your call. Now get out of here before he comes looking
for you."

"Absolutely. Thanks again." Margaret stood up and walked out of
CJ's office, hurrying toward her desk.

6:30 a.m. Thursday, February 14 – Valentine's Day, The West Wing.

Margaret passed through the staff entrance of the White House and
signed in. Walking past the communications offices, she noticed the
lights were on in the Press Secretary's office. Crossing the
reception area, she knocked on the partially opened door.

"If it's cupid, take your skanky ass out of here before I call the
Park Police!"

Margaret laughed and pushed the door open, lifting a large shopping
bag up in front of her. "Will you settle for an assistant bearing
chocolate?"

"Of course! Sorry about the evil greeting, I'm not much in the mood
for a holiday dedicated to romance. Another day that reinforces the
fact that I am single, partner-less, alone, and with no prospects on
the horizon. The fact that I'm here practically 24/7 does nothing
for the aforementioned lack of men in my life." CJ propped her right
elbow on the blotter and dropped her chin into the cup of her
hand. "Okay, end of rant. Did you say you have chocolate?"

"Happy Valentine's Day." Margaret reached into the shopping bag and
extracted a small box wrapped in red foil and a silver bag, passing
them across the desk to CJ.

"What's all this?"

"The bag is the promised chocolate. The box, well, that's just a
small token of my appreciation for you taking off tomorrow afternoon
for my surgery. I'll probably be too far gone to remember to give it
to you then."

"Margaret, that's not necessary. I'm glad I can help out." CJ tore
through the wrapping paper and slit the tape holding the box together
with her thumbnail. Reaching into the box, the Press Secretary
pulled out a delicate gold bracelet and pair of drop earrings, both
set with small freshwater pearls. "Oh, this is way too much . . ."

"Nonsense."

"Margaret, I simply cannot accept these. You went to way too much
trouble and expense."

"Not at all. One of the things you don't know about me is that my
brother and his wife design jewelry. When I called and asked them to
send a piece of jewelry for you, Sara remarked that you would look
good in pearls. I think they're just as grateful that you'll be
looking after me as I am."

"Tell them I love these." CJ reached up and removed the small gold
hoops from her ears, slipping the new earrings in. Moving her head
back and forth she smiled at Margaret. "How do they look?"

"Like they were made for you." Looking at her watch, Margaret
started backing towards the door. "I've gotta scoot, Leo will be in
any minute."

"What did you get *him* for Valentine's Day?" CJ grinned wickedly.

"Not a thing. But I know what I would *like* to give him." Margaret
returned the grin.

"Do tell!"

"A giant economy sized clue!" With that Margaret was out the door,
walking briskly towards her office. Stopping in the Bullpen, she
deposited more of the silver bags on Sam, Bonnie and Ginger's desks.
Leaning inside Toby's doorway she called, "Head's up!" and tossed a
larger red foil package at Toby."

"What the . . . " Toby muttered, staring after the fast moving
assistant.

Margaret walked into her office, turning on the lights and setting
her briefcase, purse and shopping bag under her desk. She turned on
her computer before going into Leo's office and straightening up the
detritus from his late meetings. After sorting through the
paperwork, she carted the necessary documents to the shredder,
stopping to make a pot of coffee on the way back.

Twenty minutes later, as she was reviewing the notes he'd left for
her, the overly familiar cry of "Margaret!" echoed through the
closed doorway.

"You rang?" Margaret cracked, stepping into his office.

"Where's my schedule?"

"Under your left arm." Margaret replied, wondering not for the first
time, how he'd function without someone following behind him
constantly. He and Josh were two of a kind. They deserved the
nickname Donna had tagged them with, The Needy Twins.

"When's staff?"

"At eight. CJ's briefing the press on tomorrow's campaign stops at
noon. Are there any changes to the schedule she needs to be aware
of?"

"Not yet, but . . ."

"There will be, I know. Coffee?"

"Yeah."

Margaret exited through the hall door, leaving the Chief of Staff
alone with the security reports.

7:55 a.m. Thursday, February 14- Valentine's Day, The West Wing.

At five till eight, the Senior Staff gathered in the Oval, waiting
for Leo and President Bartlet. CJ sat on the sofa, staring at the
left side of Toby's face. "Hey Pokey, got a little something on your
cheek, there."

"What is it?" Toby grumbled.

"Something pink, looks like lipstick." CJ replied with a giggle.

"Who's been kissing you?" Sam smirked at his boss.

"The same person who got you." CJ replied, leaning forward and
gazing at Sam's jaw.

"Ginger." The two men moaned together, reaching for their
handkerchiefs.

Too soon, the President and Leo entered the Oval Office. Toby and
Sam stuffed handkerchiefs back into jacket and pant's pockets;
removing the evidence forgotten in the face of formality. The staff
stood, greeting the President and Chief of Staff.

"Does anyone know the story of the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre?"
The President asked.

"Sir, please." Leo interrupted. "Ordinarily we'd all be fascinated
to hear you tell the tale. But we've got a ton of stuff to get done
before we leave tomorrow . . ."

"Spoilsport." Bartlet grumped good-naturedly. Turning to his staff
he continued, "Leo hasn't got a shred of romance in him."

"Got that right." Josh said, earning him a glare from his boss.

"Okay, getting down to business. Where are we on the trade bill?"

Josh spoke up. "It's out of committee, Mr. President, and scheduled
for a vote late this afternoon."

"Get a firm time on that, we'll have afternoon staff, then watch the
vote."

"Yes sir."

Leo broke in, "CJ you're briefing the press about tomorrow?"

"At the noon briefing. Press credentials will be handed out after
that."

"Okay. I'll have Margaret get any changes to ya half an hour before."

CJ nodded her agreement. "That'll work."

"Everybody got their marching orders?" Bartlet asked. The assembled
company nodded. "Okay, people, go do a job." The group rose as one,
moving toward the reception area.

Toby stopped at the doorway to Leo's reception area. "You busy?" he
asked Margaret.

"Nothing that won't keep. What's up?"

"We just finished Staff." Margaret nodded. "I wanted to come by and
thank you for the Diana Krall cd."

"You're welcome. I hope it's one you didn't already have."

"I kept borrowing Sam's copy. He'll be thrilled to get it back."

"Glad you like it." Margaret stood up, walking over to where the
Communications Director leaned against the doorframe. "What's that
on your cheek?"

"Apparently it's Ginger's lipstick. I meant to wipe it off earlier,
but got distracted by the President and a narrowly avoided lecture on
the true meaning of Valentine's Day."

"Ooooh, bet you're sorry you missed out on that one." Margaret
laughed.

"Not especially. Speaking of lipstick, I'd better go to the men's
room and remove the evidence."

Margaret stepped closer to Toby. Leaning forward she pressed her
lips to his right cheek. "There, now you have a matched set."

"Great, more girly stuff to clean up." Toby groused, although it was
evident that he wasn't overly distressed. Turning on his heel, he
walked out of the office.

Two minutes later, Leo entered his office and called for his
assistant.

Returning from dropping chocolate off for Charlie and Nancy, Margaret
heard Leo yell and hurried to answer his summons. Walking into his
office from the hall, she surveyed the havoc he'd managed to wreak,
spreading papers over every available surface including the
conference table. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Huh?" Leo said, looking at his assistant over the rims of his
glasses.

"Never mind. What do you need?"

Rooting through the file folder he'd been carrying since Senior
Staff, Leo pulled out two sheets of white paper, covered with
assorted scribblings. "Here's the changes for tomorrow's trip. Get
those to CJ ASAP."

"Yes sir. Anything else?"

"Nah, oh wait a minute, the President mentioned that today is . . ."

"I ordered a dozen pink roses for Mallory."

"Yeah, okay." Leo replied absentmindedly, turning back to his
briefing book.

Margaret shook her head and left the office, attempting to make heads
or tails of her boss's chicken scratch. `Hieroglyphics would be
easier.' Sitting at her desk, she called up the original travel
schedule and set about making the necessary changes.

12:43 p.m., Thursday, February 14- Valentine's Day, Press Secretary's
Office

The noon briefing had concluded and Carol was seated behind her desk,
handing out press credentials and copies of the trip itinerary.
Distributing the last packet, she walked into CJ's office. "That
little chore's done. I'm going to the Mess for a salad. You want
anything?"

"Harrison Ford on the half shell." CJ deadpanned

Carol smiled sympathetically. "I think they're out of that.
Anything else?"

"Yeah, some sort of salad with low fat ranch dressing on the side and
a diet soda."

"I'll be back soon." Carol shut CJ's door behind her and walked
around her desk, retrieving her wallet from the bottom left desk
drawer.

As she walked towards the doorway, Carol noticed the head of the
President's security detail standing in the hall. A brilliant red
rose adorned the lapel of his black suit jacket. Fighting the blush
she could feel starting in her toes, Carol nodded at the older
man "Hi Ron, you need to see CJ?"

"No, just waiting for the President to finish up in there." Ron
cocked his head toward the Oval Office.

"He's running late?"

"As usual." The Secret Service agent laughed lightly.

"Nice boutonnière." Carol commented, turning to walk toward the
stairwell.

"Thanks, there were a dozen roses waiting in my office when I
finished the morning security staff meeting. This way I get to enjoy
the gift while I'm not at my desk."

"Good idea." Carol smiled at Ron and made a second attempt at
reaching the stairway.

"Uh, Carol?" Ron called after her, forcing the young woman to
retrace her steps.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"The roses." Ron smiled knowingly.

"What the . . . how did you . . .oh kill me now!" Carol moaned
rolling her eyes, her face a shade of red only slightly less bright
than the rose Ron was wearing.

Looking around him quickly, Ron reached forward and touched the tip
of his left index finger to Carol's nose. "You misspelled
Valentine's." he whispered.

"Ron, there you are! Let's go!" the President called, striding down
the hallway.

"Duty calls." Carol said.

"It does indeed. I'll see you later."

"M-hmm." Carol nodded, turning away and practically running down the
stairs.

3:50 p.m. Thursday, February 14- Valentine's Day, The Chief of
Staff's Office

"Margaret!"

"Once more with feeling." Margaret muttered to herself, opening the
door between their offices. "What I can do for you, Leo?" she
asked, walking toward his desk.

"When's the trade bill vote?"

"It's scheduled for 4:30. The President would like Senior Staff to
watch it with him after Staff, which has been pushed back to 4:15."

"Got it. Do you have the files ready for tomorrow?"

"The revised schedule and the background memos are ready to go. The
briefing books will be ready first thing in the morning."

"Will you . . ."

Following Leo's train of thought, Margaret interjected, "I'll be here
before 6:00 to get your briefcase packed and confirm the final
arrangements."

"How'd you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Know what I was going to say."

"One of my many secret powers." Margaret said with a grin. "You
need anything else?"

"Coffee."

"I'll bring it right in." Margaret turned around and headed out of
the office. The Chief of Staff leaned back in his chair, removed his
glasses and smiled. `Secret powers,' he thought, `that's a good
one.' Leo continued to recline in his chair, thinking over the past
several days. There was something he was certain that he'd
forgotten, but could not call to mind exactly what it was.

4:50 p.m. Thursday, February 14- Valentine's Day, The Oval Office

Seven people gathered in a loose knot around the television set at
the back of the Oval office. Toby kept a running tally of the vote
on his ever-present legal pad. Charlie moved back and forth between
the Oval and the reception area, keeping an eye on the congressional
proceedings. CJ tapped her right foot on the floor in nervous
anticipation, Josh and Sam loosened their neckties as their lead
decreased. Only Leo and President Bartlet appeared calm, both
leaning against the desk, their faces a schooled study in composure.
But appearances can be deceiving and, if one looked closely, their
underlying concern was evident.

"CJ, turn the television up." Bartlet said.

CJ reached for the remote control on a nearby end table and depressed
the volume control. "Better?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Much."

From the television, the voice of the Speaker of the House caused
everyone Oval to pause as the roll call vote continued. "Mr.
Manning?"

"Yea."

"We're in!" Toby cried, tossing his black ink pen into the air and
catching it. "Manning kept his word, and the other six will follow.
We won!"

Bartlet and Leo shook hands as the rest of the Senior Staff exchanged
handshakes and hugs.

"Thank you everyone, you did an outstanding job of getting the win."
Bartlet said, wrapping his arms around the shoulders of Josh and
Toby. "Unfortunately, we can't rest on this, there's a great deal
more work to do. Starting with our early take off tomorrow. Leo,
Sam, you ready to go?"

"Yes, Mr. President." Sam replied with a grin. Leo nodded his
agreement.

"Josh, you, Toby, and CJ will manage things here. Bartlet continued.

"Yes, sir, speaking of which, I need to go prepare the final briefing
and put the lid on for the night." CJ said, rising from her seat and
exiting the Oval Office, the remainder of the Senior Staff following
her lead.

10:35 p.m. Thursday, February 14- Valentine's Day, The Chief of
Staff's Office

Leo stood in the middle of his office, surveying the wreckage of an
exceptionally busy day. The door between his office and the
reception area was ajar. Leo gazed through the opening, smiling at
the sight of Margaret alphabetizing a large stack of filing.
Retrieving a briefing book from his desk, the Chief of Staff sat down
on the sofa and started to slip out of his shoes. A sudden thud had
him up and running toward the outer office.

"What the – Margaret!" Leo raced across toward his assistant, who
was lying in the middle of the floor, files scattered hither and yon.

"Well, that was embarrassing." Margaret said, raising herself up on
one elbow and struggling to sit up.

"Screw embarrassing, are you all right? What happened? Are you
hurt?" Leo fired off the questions, while crouching down next to the
tall redhead.

"Leo, get off the floor, I'm fine." Margaret said, rolling her eyes
at her boss as she began picking up the file folders and their
contents.

"If you're bossing me around, you must be okay. But that doesn't
answer my question. What the hell happened?"

There's a loose seam in the carpet. The heel of my shoe got caught
and down I went."

"Call maintenance first thing in the morning. I want that carpet
replaced."

"Leo, it's not that big a deal. I just need to be more careful and
stop dragging my feet."
Margaret reached behind her and grabbed the last of the loose sheets
of paper.

"You don't drag your feet and it is a big deal. Get the carpet
replaced." Leo stood up and extended his hands. "Come on, I'll help
you up."

"I am perfectly capable of getting myself off the floor." Margaret
replied, glaring at her boss.

"Humor me Margaret." Leo reached down and grabbed her hands, pulling
her easily to her feet. Putting his hands on his assistant's
shoulders, he looked into her eyes. "You sure you're all right?"

"Positive." she said, feeling a flush creep up her face at being in
such close proximity to her boss.

"Okay. I'm just about done for the night. Why don't you go ahead
and leave?"

"Not if you're going to stick around and trash that office out even
further."

"I won't."

"Why don't I believe that?" Margaret asked with a wry grin.

"Tell you what, let me get my briefcase together and we'll both head
out."

"That's fine." Margaret turned off her computer and gathered her
things, waiting in the hall for Leo to lock his office.

Walking down the hall, Margaret turned to Leo. "I didn't get to
mention it earlier; congratulations on the trade bill."

"We needed that win." Leo replied. After a few seconds of silence
he continued, "Thanks for all your help on that. Couldn't have done
it without ya."

"You're welcome, Leo." Margaret smiled at her boss as they stopped
to sign out of the building.

"You need a ride home?" Leo asked, stopping by his car as Eddie, his
driver, opened the back door.

"No thanks, my car's across the street. I'll see you in the
morning." Feeling the evening chill, she waved at Leo and headed
toward the parking lot at a brisk pace.

5:45 a.m. Friday, February 15- Oval Office Reception Area

Charlie stood at his desk, reviewing the itinerary for the series of
campaign stops. He looked up as Margaret entered the office, a thick
file in her hands. "Good morning Margaret. You're here earlier than
usual."

"Morning Charlie. I keep forgetting you weren't around for the first
campaign, when the assistants always kept pre-dawn hours." Margaret
said with a smile. "Both the President and Leo like to leave at
first light and get as much accomplished as possible in one day. Now
that he's in office, it becomes essential, just so he can get a
couple of days in Washington each week to actually run the country."

"Yeah, the next few months are gonna wear me out aren't they?"
Charlie asked, rolling his eyes to emphasize his point.

"No more so than the last three years have. Piece of friendly
advice?" Charlie nodded at the tall red head. "If you can, sleep on
the plane between stops. Catnaps will do you a world of good. I can
almost guarantee that the President will run you ragged on the flight
back."

"No surprise there." Charlie said with a laugh. "Why aren't you
joining us on this trip? I figured Leo didn't make a move without
you."

"Someone needs to stay here and keep an eye on Josh and it's more
than Donna can handle." Margaret replied. "Seriously, there are
three more sets of campaign trips that need some background work and
the first draft of the foreign aid bill will be coming out before
nine. That summary needs to be on Leo's desk when he returns."
Remembering the files she still clutched, Margaret smiled at
Charlie. "These are extra copies of the itinerary and the background
notes. You will probably need them at some point."

"Thanks Margaret, I guess I'll see you when we get back tonight."

"Sure thing." Margaret said leaving the office, unwilling to tell
Charlie that she wouldn't be there. Walking into her office she
gathered briefing books and file folders. Carrying them into Leo's
office, she put them in the middle of his conference table just as he
walked through the door. "Good morning, Leo."

"Hey Margaret, is that everything?"

"These are the briefing books on the trade package and the proposed
economic development initiative. The folders have your schedule and
bios on all the people you'll be meeting with. The heavy hitters on
the contributor's list have been highlighted. Ginger will be along,
and has copies of everything."

"You sure she's up to speed? I'd much rather have you go . . ."

"Leo, we've been over this already. This is a one-day, three-stop
trip, not a huge campaign swing. Ginger's a veteran of the last
campaign, she knows exactly what to do. Besides, you need me here to
iron out the last details of the next trip and to prepare the foreign
aid summary."

"Yeah. You sure . . ."

"Everything will go smoothly. I'll accompany you on the next
campaign trip, I promise."

"Okay. I'm gonna go see him for a minute." Leo inclined his head
toward the Oval Office.

"Go. I'll get your briefcase packed." Margaret reached out and took
the leather bag from her boss.

By 6:40, only ten minutes behind schedule, Margaret walked beside Leo
on the way to the motorcade. CJ joined them as they passed the
Communications Bullpen.

"Any changes with the press CJ?" Margaret asked.

"Not a one. They're already en route to Andrews. Since this is a
short trip, Connie and Doug can handle them."

"I'd pay money to watch that!" Margaret whispered to CJ, earning a
laugh from the Press Secretary. Reaching the East Entrance, Margaret
helped Leo into his overcoat and handed him his scarf.

"Where's the President?" Leo moaned, dreading an even longer delay.

"Right behind you. Let's get this show on the road!" Bartlet
called, walking past the trio and through the double doors, Ron and
the other agents close behind him.

"He enjoys this too damn much, it's not normal." Leo complained,
starting through the doorway. "I'll see you later." Turning around
he nodded at the Marine guard by the door and hurried to the waiting
limo.

Margaret and CJ walked back down the hall toward the West Wing. "You
okay?" CJ asked the younger woman.

"Hell, no. Honestly, I'm scared half stupid." Margaret bit her
lower lip.

"Whatever happens, it's going to be fine. You've got all of us on
your side." CJ said, snaking a long arm around Margaret's
shoulders. "What time should we leave?"

"Probably about 1:30, just to allow enough time for traffic."

"I'll have Carol keep my calendar clear after the noon briefing.
Just come by when you're ready to leave. Did you drive in this
morning?"

"No, I took a cab, that way I wouldn't have to leave my car here over
the weekend."

"Still haven't told Leo yet?"

"What do you think?"

"The man is going to have to know sooner or later."

"I'm opting for later . . . much, much, later." Margaret
replied. "I'll see you this afternoon."

"See ya." CJ smiled and walked into her office

2:00 p.m. Friday, February 15- Oncology Services Office

Margaret and CJ entered the reception area for the medical group Dr.
Corrine Matthews practiced with. Walking over to the check-in desk
Margaret nodded at the woman on duty. "Hi Lucy, how are you this
afternoon?"

"I'm good Margaret, how are you?"

"Plead the fifth?" Margaret said, managing a nervous smile.

Calling up Margaret's record on the computer, Lucy noted the
procedure she was scheduled for. "You got the jitters?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Have a seat, they should be ready for you in a few minutes."

Margaret walked over to a loveseat and sat down, staring out the
windows at the dull gray afternoon sky. CJ sat down next to her,
patting her knee, wondering what she could say to make this easier.

After a brief wait, one of the nurses came into the lobby and smiled
at Margaret. "You ready?"

"I've changed my mind. I think I'll come back another time. C'mon,
CJ, let's go shopping." Margaret stood up and headed for the
entrance.

"Not a chance, friend." CJ said, catching up to Margaret and turning
her toward the opposite door. "You blow this off and I'll rat you
out to Leo so fast your head will spin."

"Thank you *so* much!" Margaret growled as the two women followed
the nurse down a long hallway and around the corner to a series of
changing rooms.

"Margaret, I need for you to remove everything but your underwear.
Also take off all your jewelry. You can put this robe on. I'll be
back for you in a few moments." Glancing at CJ the nurse
continued, "Are you a relative?"

CJ stood up, stretching to her full height of 6'3" in heels, as she
sensed a confrontation coming on. "I am her friend and I am not
leaving her to go through this alone."

"Well, I don't know if that's allowed."

"Then get the doctor back here, damn it because I'm not leaving!" CJ
put her hands on her hips and favored the nurse with her "glare of
doom and destruction."

"Yes, ma'am." The nurse scuttled around the corner and out of sight
as Margaret collapsed into giggles.

"Well, at least I made you laugh. That's an improvement." CJ said
with a smile.

"I can't wait to watch you go toe-to-toe with Corrine, the Amazon
oncologist."

"Who's back here taking my name in vain?" a loud voice called out
from the corridor. Dr. Corrine Matthews, six feet one inches of
professional demeanor, rounded the corner and came face to face with
her patient and the Press Secretary to the President of the United
States.

"That was me, Corrine." Margaret said with a sigh.

"What's this I hear about one of you scaring the tar out of Diane?"

"That was me." CJ replied. "I'm CJ Cregg, I'm . . ."

"I watch CNN, I know who you are." Corrine said with a grin. "You
told my nurse that you refused to leave Margaret alone?"

"That's right. She's scared and it's my job to make sure she gets
through this with a minimum of fear and frustration. If that means
that I have to stand by her head and hold her hand through this whole
procedure then that's what I'm going to do. Any questions?"

"That's no act you put on in the press room."

"No ma'am."

"Since it's obvious I'm not going to win an argument with you, you
can go in with Margaret. I have two conditions though."

"Name `em."

"One, you have to get out of that Calvin Klein suit and into a set of
scrubs. This is a minor procedure, but it's still a sterile field.
Two, if you so much as *think* you're going to get sick or pass out,
I want you out of that room. I don't tolerate wimps in my OR."

"Point me toward the scrubs." CJ replied. "Oh, I spent summers on
my grandparent's farm, I've been up to my elbows in grosser things
than you."

"That's doubtful." Corrine returned with a smirk.

"Equine placenta and afterbirth do it for you?" CJ retorted.

"Okay people, squeamish patient still in the room." Margaret
said. "Could you two stop trying to gross one another out and let's
get this the *hell* over with!" Margaret walked into one of the
changing rooms and began to remove her jacket and slacks.

3:00 p.m. Friday, February 15- Oncology Services Office

Dr. Matthews walked into the OR, two nurses following behind her.
Stepping over to the table, she patted Margaret on the
shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Pleasantly buzzed, the medication kicked in a little while ago."

"Good, think you could take a nap for me?"

"And miss the party, not in a million. You are going to explain this
to me right?"

"Just like the first time, I'll talk you through each step." Looking
over at the Press Secretary Corrine smiled and pulled her surgical
mask up. "Doing okay, Ms. Cregg?"

"I'm fine and please call me CJ."

"Okay, Margaret, here we go. Linda is going to remove the drape over
your left breast while I take another look at the mammogram films.
Turning around, Corrine switched on the lights for the x-ray viewer
and studied the pictures. Returning to the table, she palpated the
upper area of Margaret's breast, locating the lump. Linda handed
Corrine what looked like a black magic marker. "Margaret I'm going
to make two small marks near the site where I need to make the
incisions."

"Why two incisions?" Margaret asked.

"Because I'm feeling another tiny lump about 10 centimeters from the
original one. It may be nothing, but as long as we're in I want to
extract as well."

"More room out than in." Margaret agreed.

Corrine finished marking the area and leaned over the table, so she
could look her patient in the eye. "Margaret, I'm going to make the
first incision now. You will feel a fair amount of pressure and a
little bit of warm wetness, which will be a tiny amount of blood.
You should not feel any pain whatsoever. If you do, tell me and I'll
have Monique administer more local anesthesia. Is that okay?"

"Sure, go ahead." Margaret turned her head slightly and gazed at the
Press Secretary. "Hey CJ, know what the one plus to having breast
cancer is?"

"I have no clue, what is it?"

"You get felt up way more than you ever did in high school!" CJ
laughed as Corrine groaned. "Dr. Matthews has heard me tell that one
before."

"Only a couple hundred times. Okay Margaret, I'm making the incision
now."

Tears filled Margaret's eyes as the procedure began. CJ leaned down,
wiping her friend's eyes with the towel they'd given her for just
this purpose. Truth be told, CJ felt like crying herself, but wasn't
about to let her composure slip.

Wanting to ease her patient's mind, Corrine talked quietly as she
began to open the incision in order to remove the larger lump. "So,
with the President on the campaign trail and you two out of the
office, who *is* running the country today."

"Josh Lyman, the deputy Chief of Staff." CJ answered "Oh gosh
Margaret, you realize we left Josh in charge?"

"We're screwed." Margaret said with a grimace.

CJ caught the younger woman's expression. "Are you in pain?"

"No, just thinking about how much damage Josh can do in a short time
span."

"Is this fellow really all that bad?" Monique asked.

"Yes!" Margaret and CJ responded simultaneously.

Half an hour later, the procedure was completed. Margaret continued
to rest on the operating table as Linda placed a sterile dressing
over her breast, securing it with several strips of tape.

"Margaret, you have a few stitches at the incision sites. Every time
you shower or bathe, you need to cover the dressing with plastic.
Dr. Matthews has written a prescription for pain pills, which Debbie
will call in to your pharmacy. They should be ready for you to pick
up on the way home. You need to stay in bed for the remainder of the
day and keep ice packs on the breast for the first eight to ten hours
to help reduce the swelling. You may find tomorrow that ice packs
will help with the discomfort. No driving, no lifting anything over
five pounds with your left arm and no operating heavy equipment for
72 hours. Any questions?"

"Yeah, will I ever dance again?"

"Funny woman. Lay still for a few more minutes. CJ can come with me
and get your clothes and help you get dressed." Linda and CJ exited
the OR as Corrine came down the hall, making notes on Margaret's
chart.

"How's she holding up?" Corrine asked the nurse.

"She's okay. The anesthesia will wear off in another couple hours
and she'll start hating us then."

Corrine smiled at her nurse and CJ "Thanks for coming in with her,
CJ. I know your presence reassured her."

"Glad to do it. So tell me, how did it go?"

"Well, you saw the two lumps that I pulled out?" CJ nodded. "We
have to wait on the pathology reports, I don't want to hazard a guess
about whether they are benign or malignant."

"When will the reports be back?"

"Seven to ten days. Someone from my office will call Margaret as
soon as they are in." Reaching into her lab coat pocket, Corrine
removed a small pale pink card and passed it to CJ. "This is my
card, my after hours service and home numbers are on there. If she
has a bad night, excessive bleeding, vomiting from the medication,
give me a call."

"What's your definition of excessive bleeding?"

"Anything that soaks through the dressing. Margaret can tell you all
about it."

"All right. Thank you Dr. Matthews." CJ shook the oncologist's hand.

"Thank you CJ. Perhaps we can meet again under more pleasant
circumstances." Corrine walked down the hall toward her next patient.

5:30 p.m. Friday, February 15- Margaret's Apartment

CJ pushed the apartment door open and removed the keys from the
lock. Turning back into the hall, she put her right arm around
Margaret's waist, guiding her into the living room. "Home again."
CJ said with a smile. "Couch or bed?"

"Bathroom." Margaret answered. "CJ, I'm not a total invalid."

"I know that. I also know that you are not exactly steady on your
feet right now."

"That's because between the tranquilizers and the pain, I am about
half crocked."

"Okay, here we are. I'll just wait outside the door."

"Uh, CJ?"

"Yeah, Margaret?"

"This is really embarrassing, but I can't unbutton and unzip my
pants."

"Oh, that would be a problem. Here, lean against the sink and I'll
just take them off for you. You want me to get you some pajamas or
something?"

"I left a nightshirt and underwear on the bed. Just bring those in.
I hate it that you have to keep dressing and undressing me."

"Margaret, you'd do the same thing for me. Don't worry about it."
CJ got Margaret's slacks off and stood up. "Can you manage now?"

"Yeah, I'll call for you when I'm ready to put my nightshirt on."

"Okay, I'll help you get your makeup off and your teeth brushed. I'm
also going to get your pain pills and a glass of water." CJ exited
the bathroom, leaving the door cracked. Locating Margaret's utility
closet, she found the laundry hamper and disposed of the dirty
clothes. Walking into the bedroom, she picked up the garments at the
end of the bed and carried them back through to the kitchen, where
she filled a glass with water and located the pharmacy bag with the
prescription painkillers and the extra dressing supplies.

"CJ?" Margaret hollered from the bathroom.

"You ready to get changed again?"

"Yes. Could you bring me a pain pill?"

CJ opened the bathroom door and handed the small white pill and glass
of water to Margaret. "Here you are."

"Thanks, this is really starting to burn."

"The local anesthesia must be starting to wear off. Let's get you
ready for bed."

Between the two of them, CJ and Margaret managed to get the younger
woman's clothes changed, makeup removed, and teeth brushed. CJ
helped Margaret down the hall and into bed, then went back to the
kitchen for an ice pack.

Standing beside Margaret's bed, CJ laid down the law. "Here's the
deal. You cannot possibly stay alone tonight. That pain pill should
knock you out in a few minutes. When it does, I am going to run
home, pack a bag and come back to spend the night."

"Don't be silly CJ, I can manage." Margaret yawned widely.

"No, you really cannot. You're supposed to keep ice on the incision
site for several hours, the dressing has to be changed at least once
before the end of the day and someone is supposed to make sure that
you don't spike a fever or vomit too much. I'm staying and that's
final."

"I never get sick from the anesthesia, but I'm too tired to argue
with you."

"Then we're agreed. Linda said that you could have solid food later
if you wanted it. Does anything sound good?"

"Actually something soft like rice or pasta doesn't sound bad."

"How about Chinese, maybe some lo mien?" CJ asked.

"Sounds good."

"Great, I'll call Toby and get him to pick it up for us. He wants to
come by and see you if that's all right."

"That's okay. CJ, I hate to be rude but I'm about to pass out here."

"Close your eyes Margaret. I'll be back long before you wake up."

CJ stood and watched as Margaret drifted into a sound sleep. Picking
up the water glass, she returned to the kitchen where she retrieved
her purse and car keys. Once outside the two-story red brick
apartment building, she flipped open her cell phone and hit one of
the speed dial buttons. "Hey, it's me."

"CJ, how's our girl?" Toby asked.

"Sound asleep, thanks to the pain medication."

"Yeah, how did the surgery go?"

"It went fine, they found another tiny lump near the first one so
they removed them both. The lab report should be back in about a
week. Listen, you still up for making a dinner run tonight?"

"Absolutely, what does Margaret feel like eating?"

"Believe it or not, Chinese take-out. Something soft like wonton
soup and chicken lo mien."

"The usual for you?"

"Yeah, thanks." CJ responded. "I'm going to make a quick trip to my
place and pack an overnight bag. She really shouldn't be alone
tonight."

"Good idea, what time should I stop by?"

CJ consulted her watch. "Let's give her plenty of time to rest and
for her system to adjust to the shock of the surgery. How about
9:00?"

"I'll see you then."

"Bye." CJ disconnected the call and got into her car for the short
drive to her townhouse.

8:52 p.m. Friday, February 15 – Margaret's Apartment.

CJ had just helped Margaret into a sitting position on the side of
the bed when the doorbell rang. "Can you sit tight for a minute
Margaret? That's probably Toby."

"Trust me, I'm not going anywhere."

CJ ran down the hall and into the living room, her thick red socks
causing her to skid to a stop on the hardwood floor. Turning the
locks, she stepped back as Toby entered the apartment, his arms laden
with plastic bags.

"Hey Toby, what'd you do, knock over a Chinese restaurant?"

"Not exactly. Where's the patient?"

"In the bedroom. We were just getting ready to undertake the
adventure of walking into the living room."

"Would you like some help?" Toby raised his eyebrows at his best
friend.

"That would be great. The medication hasn't exactly left her in
charge of her gross motor skills." CJ lead the way down the hall
calling, "Margaret, the cavalry has arrived!"

"Hi Toby." Margaret said, smiling sheepishly and blushing
deeply. "Please ignore my appearance."

Toby crouched down next to the bed so he could look Margaret in the
eye. "Hey there. You have nothing to apologize for, you just had
surgery, remember?"

"It was a minor procedure."

"The procedure part I'll buy, the minor part I'm gonna have to
disagree with. Having a lump removed from your breast is not minor.
Getting a mole removed is minor. I was with Rachel during her
surgery and recovery. This is nothing I haven't seen before, okay?"
Toby patted Margaret's arm.

"Okay."

"Now, why don't you let me carry you into the living room so we can
all have dinner together?"

"You can't lift me."

"How much money you wanna put up?" Toby stood up, bending low at the
waist. "Margaret, I need for you to put your right arm around my
neck. CJ you stand on her left side and keep that ice pack in place
while I lift her. Margaret this may hurt for a minute, but it's a
much quicker and easier way of getting you into the other room."

"It's fine, I trust you." Margaret lifted her right arm and draped
it around the Communication Director's neck.

"Up we go, Margaret." Toby said gently, bending his knees and
reaching forward to slide his left arm around her back and his right
arm under her knees. Rising to his full height, he waited for a
moment as CJ adjusted the ice pack. "Okay, let me get my hand a
little further up her arm. That's good, you can let go of the ice
pack CJ, I've got it." Toby carried Leo's assistant into the living
room with ease, setting her gently in a wide chair and drawing the
matching ottoman up so she could elevate her feet and legs.

CJ came in carrying an afghan and extra pillows. After propping
Margaret's back up, she and Toby spread the afghan over their
patient's knees.

"Thanks guys." Margaret said with a smile. "I can't believe how
unsteady I am."

"You'll be much better by tomorrow." Toby said with a knowing
smile. "And back to ruling the West Wing by Monday."

"I plan on being back in the office tomorrow. Leo's going to be less
than thrilled with the fact that I'm not there tonight."

"Margaret, Air Force One isn't wheels down until well after
midnight. Not even Leo would expect you to stay that late. As for
tomorrow, don't worry about it. We can cover for you."

"You sure about that?"

"Absolutely, we'll tell him you have some sort of virus. Are we
ready to eat?" Toby said, eager to change the subject.

"I'm starved. Let me help you with the food." CJ turned the
television on for Margaret and pulled Toby into the kitchen with
her. Turning on the taps to hide her voice, she leaned next to Toby
and whispered, "Are you still planning to . . .?"

"Yeah, I am. I think I have to."

"But it is a good idea?"

"Well, look at her. Do you think there's any other way out of this?"

"You're right." CJ hugged Toby briefly.

An hour later, the remains of an oriental feast were spread out on
the pine coffee table. CJ sat on the floor between Toby's knees as
he gently massaged the knots out of her shoulders.

"Damn, Claudia Jean, how do you get these softball sized knots back
here?"

"Life as the Press Secretary has its hazards, those tension knots are
one of them."

"CJ I think we've all got them." Margaret replied. "My masseuse
swears that all the knots in my spine exist courtesy of Leo."

"You have a masseuse?" CJ squeaked as Toby hit a particularly
sensitive spot.

"Yep, I go in once a month. It's one of those things I consider
essential to being able to perform my job well. You know, get rid of
the existing stress so I can take on more."

"Give me her number. I'm going to call and make an appointment for
next week."

"Sure, it's in the Rolodex on the desk. Her name is Sandra King.
Tell her I told you to call; she only takes referrals."

"Okay, CJ, you're done, switch places with me." Toby said, flexing
his hands, his knuckles popping.

Margaret laughed as Toby settled in on the floor, removing his brown
loafers and crossing his legs Indian style. "How long have you two
had this little arrangement?"

"How long has it been, CJ?" Toby asked, rolling his head forward as
she began to massage the muscles at the base of his neck.

"Somewhere just shy of forever." CJ said, digging her fingers into
Toby's neck. "This hurt?"

"No more than usual. Keep it up."

Margaret realized she had not asked about work yet. "How are things
at the White House Toby?"

"Running smoothly, amazingly enough. Josh hadn't made any bonehead
moves at the time I left to come over here. With any luck, he can
keep it on an even keel for a couple more hours."

"Poor Donna, she must be exhausted."

"Actually she's got him on a short leash today. Every time he
attempts to get a little power happy, she reels him back in. She and
Josh both asked me to give you their love. They'll be over to see
you tomorrow . . . if you don't make it into work that is." Toby
said.

"That's sweet of them." Margaret yawned and blinked her eyes rapidly.

"Someone's ready to go back to bed." CJ remarked.

"Suddenly I feel exhausted. If you'll get me anther pain pill and an
ice pack, I'll say goodnight."

"Want me to carry you back to bed?" Toby asked.

"No, I need to try walking. But if you want to help me, I won't
object."

"Okay, take your time." Toby stood up and walked over to where
Margaret sat, offering her his arm to steady herself as she stood up.

"I'll be right in with the medicine and ice pack." CJ said, opening
the freezer to fill another plastic storage bag with ice cubes.

After settling Margaret in for the night. CJ and Toby returned to
the living room and disposed of the leftovers. CJ wiped the coffee
table and counters down as Toby bagged up the trash.

Looking at his watch, Toby rolled his shirtsleeves down and buttoned
the cuffs. "It's after 11, I promised Josh I'd be back by 11:30."

"Go. I'll walk with you and put the trash out."

Once on the sidewalk, Toby pulled CJ into a tight embrace. "Call me
if you need anything, okay?"

Stepping away from Toby and walking back towards the front door CJ
smiled. "Yeah and you call me on my cell, well, after . . ."

"Yeah."

"Is this right?"

Toby rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "One way or
another, it's going to be."

"You're a real soft-touch Ziegler."

"And you're an incurable sap, Cregg."

"Ya think?"

"I'll call you."

"I'll be waiting." CJ walked into the apartment building, shutting
the door behind her. Returning to Margaret's apartment, she took a
hot shower and changed into navy leggings and an old Berkeley
sweatshirt. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she put her contact
lenses in to soak and got her glasses out of her purse. Settling at
the dining table, she removed the newspapers and journals she hadn't
had time to review earlier. Her cell phone rested on the table, its
ringing function set on vibrate.

12:50 a.m. Saturday, February 16 – The West Wing – Toby Ziegler's
Office

Toby sat at his desk, his laptop open in front of him. The only
sound in the room was the rapid clicking of keys as he revised the
auto workers speech for next Tuesday. Sensing a presence outside his
office, he looked up to find Sam leaning in the doorway, hair mussed
and tie undone.

"Princeton, how was the road trip?"

"Exhausting, productive as hell, but exhausting. He had the
Teamsters eating out of his hand in Atlanta. That man thinks on his
feet faster than anyone I've ever seen."

"I'm glad it went well. Did Ginger do okay?"

"Yeah, she's a trouper. Between her and Charlie, they had everything
ready before Leo or the President asked for it. How did you guys
fare?"

"Fine, it was a quiet day. Josh took one meeting on the Hill, but
that was it. Margaret managed to get the new legislation summarized
before she left. We'll be starting on that tomorrow."

"Damn, I completely forgot. How'd the surgery go?"

"From what CJ said, as well as could be expected. The doctor found
a second small lump near the first one; she removed both of them.
When I went by there a couple of hours ago, Margaret was still in a
fair amount of pain."

"That's normal?"

"Yeah, Sam, it is. CJ gave her another pain pill and we got her to
bed before I left. CJ will spend the night there."

"That's good to know. I'll give Margaret a call tomorrow, maybe take
her some flowers." The younger man closed his eyes and pinched the
bridge of his nose.

"Sam, you're exhausted. There's nothing that needs done before
tomorrow, get the hell out of here."

"When are you going to leave?"

Toby was about to reply when a loud cry came from across the
hall, "Damn! Damn! DAMN!" followed by what sounded like a ten pound
weight hitting the floor. "That's my cue." Toby said, standing up
and reaching for his suit jacket.

"Your cue? I don't understand."

"I've gotta go see Leo."

"About what?"

"The thing."

"Oh . . . OH!" Realization dawned in Sam's eyes. "I'm just gonna go
home. Unless you want me to stick around for the post mortem."

"Nah, I got this covered. I'll take this hit, you can have the next
one."

"You're all heart, Toby."

Toby headed out of the bullpen and across the hall. "And don't I
know it. See you in the morning Sam." Squaring his shoulders, Toby
knocked on the hall door of the Chief of Staff's Office.

"Yeah!" Leo called loudly from the other side.

`We who are about to die salute you.' Toby thought as he turned the
doorknob and stepped into his boss' office. "Good evening Leo."

"Toby, maybe you can tell me what the *hell* is going on around here."

"What do you mean, Leo?"

"Josh just told me that he didn't screw anything up, I can't find the
new bill summary, and where is my assistant? Margaret!" Leo yelled.

"Leo, please calm down." Toby said quietly.

"I am calm! Margaret!"

"Leo, stop yelling for Margaret."

"Why?" The Chief of Staff glowered at the Communications Director.

"Because she's not here."

"What the hell? Where is she? Why isn't she here? We've got a
mountain of work to do! That bill needs to be summarized! What the
hell?"

At this point, the sound of Leo's ranting had reached the Oval
Office. Walking though the connecting doorway, Bartlet looked at his
best friend. "Problems, Leo?"

Before the Chief of Staff could start up again, Toby broke
in. "Everything is fine, Mr. President. Leo couldn't locate the
summary of the new legislation, which is on the top of his in
basket. He's also after Margaret, but she's home for the night."

"Leo, there's plenty of time to handle everything tomorrow and
Sunday, if need be. Let the poor woman be. You should go home
anyway, it's after 1:00." Bartlet admonished.

"Yes, sir. I'll see you in the morning, Mr. President." Leo waited
until the President was on the other side of the door before turning
back to Toby and growling, "You wanna tell me why I feel like I'm
bein' scammed here?"

"I'll explain everything. Let's go down to the Mess."

"I really don't wanna go anywhere. Let's have this out right now."

"Leo there's nothing to have out. We need to have a conversation and
I don't think you'll want to have it next door to the Oval. The Mess
will be empty." Turning around, Toby walked out of the office,
trusting that Leo would follow him.

1:39 a.m. Saturday, February 16, The White House Mess

Toby and Leo sat at a table along the far wall, thick white china
mugs of steaming coffee in front of each of them.

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on here?" Leo asked, the threat of
another verbal outburst just beneath the surface of his voice.

"Leo, let me ask you a question. How much do you know about
Margaret?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. How much do you know about your assistant?"

"What kind of damn fool question is that? I want answers!" Leo
raised his voice.

"Leo, dial it down a notch. You're going to get answers, but first I
need a few."

"What do I know about Margaret? I know she's worked for me since the
Department of Labor, I know she's not married. Let's see, what
else? I know she can type faster than anyone I've ever seen and
she's probably the only person on the planet who could stand to work
for me."

"Yeah, that's about how I figured it." Toby sighed, rubbing his
forehead.

"What're you gettin' at?"

"Leo, there are a lot of things you don't know. First of all, to
answer one of your earlier concerns, Josh really didn't screw up
today. Everything is fine."

"That's a relief. Now why do you keep asking me about Margaret?"

"Because I'm about to tell you some things that you may not want to
hear. Truth be told, you're probably going to get angry, worried, or
both. Before I get into this I need you to know that Margaret has no
idea I'm doing this. But CJ, Sam, and I talked it over and we
decided . . ."

Leo turned pale and stared at the other man, "Toby what are ya tryin'
to tell me, because I'm gettin' a sick feeling in the pit of my
stomach here."

"Yeah, okay. What you don't know about Margaret, to paraphrase the
Vice President, could stun a team of oxen. Did you know that
Margaret is one of the smartest people I've ever met?" Toby smiled
at the Chief of Staff. "What you don't know is that when Margaret
came to work for you, she was just out of college."

"I remember that from her personnel file." Leo interrupted.

"Do you remember that she had just finished graduate school?" The
look on Leo's face told him that he had hit a nerve. "Yeah, Leo
*graduate school*. Margaret has a Master's Degree in Political
Science from GWU. She graduated with a 3.9 and her area of
specialization was public policy, health policy to be exact. You
probably also don't know that she speaks three languages. Did you
know that both of her parents are deceased and that she has an older
brother, a sister in law, two nieces and a nephew? Did you know that
Margaret is a fantastic cook? Did you know that your assistant
dances like a dream?"

"Hold on, I'm still stuck on the fact that my assistant is a
political and linguistic genius. You sure we're talkin' about the
same Margaret?" Leo took a large swallow of his coffee.

"Positive. Let's look at the evidence. How often does Margaret
summarize legislation and briefing materials for you?"

"All the time."

"How long did it take her learn how to do that?"

"I think she walked into the Department of Labor knowing . . . oh."

"Her studies in policy analysis at GW trained her for that job."

"All of a sudden I feel like a thoughtless bastard." Leo dropped his
head and stared at the tabletop.

"You're not. You just didn't know about all of this."

"I should have."

"Maybe, but there were two factors at play. The first it that
Margaret is an extremely private person. And the second . . ."

" . . . Is that I was addicted to alcohol and Valium when she came to
work for me." Leo could feel the heat rising in his face along with
the bile rising in his throat.

"Which brings up another set of things you don't know about
Margaret." Toby reached across and put his hand on Leo's forearm.

"Why do I get the feelin' this isn't gonna be good?"

"Leo, I need for you to listen to me. I need for you to listen
carefully to everything I have to say and then you can ask me
questions till the sun comes up. But, please, let me get this all
out on the table first." Toby could feel his throat close up with
exhaustion and emotion. He got up, picking up both coffee cups, and
walked across the room to refill them.

"Okay Toby, you've got my attention, spill." Leo ordered as his
colleague placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

"Eight years ago, you went into rehabilitation at Sierra Tucson."
Toby started

"I was there, remember?"

"Leo, please let me finish this."

"Sorry."

"Okay. So, you were in rehab for a few months. While you were gone
Margaret had some problems." Toby stopped and shook his head, trying
to force the emotional memories of his sister's illness from
colliding with his concern for his friend and coworker. "Margaret
found a lump in her right breast during routine monthly self
examination. She went to her doctor who referred her to an
oncologist. The oncologist, Dr. Corrine Matthews, was concerned
enough that she bypassed a mammogram and scheduled Margaret for a
biopsy. The lump was malignant, and Margaret underwent a full
radical mastectomy of her right breast, followed by a course of
intravenous chemotherapy."

Leo got up from the table, pacing back and forth across the tile
floor for a few moments. Coming back to the table, it was evident to
Toby that his boss was fighting back tears. Leo nodded for Toby to
continue.

"By the time you returned from Sierra Tucson, Margaret was about two
thirds of the way through her chemotherapy. She managed to convince
the limited number of people at Labor who knew about her illness and
absence to keep it from you because she didn't want it to be one more
thing for you to worry about."

"That's just – "

"Leo, I'm almost done here. Stay with me." Toby cautioned. "About
two weeks ago, Margaret went to GW for her annual check-up. She ran
into CJ in the mammography suite. Margaret's mammogram showed a
small lump in the upper left portion of her left breast. Dr.
Matthews decided that, given her past history, a biopsy was in
order. That procedure was performed this afternoon at the
oncologist's office. Dr. Matthews found a second small lump near the
first and removed both of them. CJ went with her and, from what I
understand, stayed in the OR and held Margaret's hand through the
operation."

"You done yet?"

"Yeah."

Leo stared at Toby for several seconds before framing his first
question. "Why the hell was I never told?"

"You know why Leo, she didn't want you worried."

"To hell with worry, Toby, she's my assistant."

"And she's always seen a major portion of her job as making sure
you're taken care of. Not many people get to you without going
through Margaret. She's your gatekeeper, Leo. A good gatekeeper
knows what their boss needs to deal with and what is superfluous.
Margaret saw her illness as extra baggage."

Staring into the depths of his coffee cup, Leo struggled to keep a
rein on his temper. It was unfathomable to him that someone he'd
worked with, day in and out, for almost a decade had kept a secret of
such magnitude from him. Had he really been that big of an s.o.b. to
work for? He had trusted her to keep his addictions secret and cover
his tracks until he went into rehab. Why hadn't she trusted him with
this?

Toby watched Leo sort through the situation in his mind. He had been
expecting some form of cataclysmic meltdown. Had prepared for it in
fact. He was not disappointed. The dam finally broke and Leo
slammed his fist on the table so hard that the mugs skittered across
the Formica and hit the floor, fracturing into shards. Twin pools of
coffee spread toward their shoes.

"Damn, Damn, Damn!" Leo yelled, echoing the cry that had brought Toby
to his office earlier. "I can't believe she hid this from me! I
can't believe she didn't trust me! I can't believe . . ."

"Can't believe what?"

"I can't believe I didn't figure it out. I shoulda' seen some sort
of sign. I shoulda' been able to help."

"Leo, you were fresh out of rehab, your mind and time were occupied
with staying sober and rebuilding you marriage."

"Fat lot of good *that* did me. Fell off the wagon and lost my wife."

"Stop it, you can't second guess yourself years later." Toby stood
up and started to walk toward the kitchen.

"Where you goin'?"

"To find a broom and a mop."

"I'll clean it up."

"It's okay, Leo, I've got it." Toby disappeared from view, returning
moments later with a broom, dustpan and a wet dishcloth. Setting to
work he cleaned up the debris, disposing of it in the garbage bin.
After returning the cleaning equipment to the back, he poured two
more mugs of coffee, setting each well back from the edge of the
table.

"I feel like I've had the rug pulled out from under me." Leo said,
shrugging out of his suit jacket and loosening his necktie.

"I can't pretend to know what you're going through, Leo. I'm also
damn sorry that I had to be the one to bring this to you, but we
believed you needed to know."

"Yeah. So tell me, how'd she do with surgery today?"

"According to CJ, the procedure itself went smoothly. I went by
Margaret's apartment a couple of hours ago; she was in pain, but
nothing out of the ordinary. CJ is staying with her tonight to make
sure medications are taken on time and to change the dressing, that
sort of thing."

"Good. What does the doctor think her chances are?"

"We don't know. I can only tell you what I know from personal
experience."

"Whaddaya mean, personal experience? Did Andi . . .?"

"Oh no, no Leo. My sister Rachel was diagnosed a few years ago. At
the time, the doctor said that if lumps ever appeared in the
remaining breast, we had to be prepared for the possibility that they
would be malignant as well. Could go either way."

"If Margaret was hell bent on keeping this a secret, how did you guys
find out about it?"

"As I told you earlier, CJ and Margaret were at GW getting their
mammograms done on the same morning. According to CJ, Margaret
accidentally left her prosthesis in the changing room. A nurse
brought it out to Margaret, in full view of our Press Secretary. She
really had no choice but to explain it. The rest of us found out
about her original diagnosis at the dinner party we had for her
birthday. CJ slipped up and asked Margaret if her mammogram results
had come back yet."

"Aw holy hell, I forgot Margaret's birthday." Leo moaned.

"Margaret got the results on the next morning after she left here. I
ran into her at Barnes and Noble Saturday night; she was there to
pick up books on breast cancer and recovery. We had dinner and
talked about the upcoming surgery."

"Lemme guess, Margaret scheduled the surgery on a day when I'd be
outta town with the President." Toby nodded. "I just can't get past
the fact that she couldn't or wouldn't tell me about this. Why?"

"You want my honest opinion?" Toby asked.

"Yeah."

"I believe she kept it hidden because she was afraid that, no matter
when you found out, it would drive you back to drinking."

"Shit." Leo said, dropping his head into hid hands. "What have I
done to that poor woman?"

"Leo, cut it out. You didn't do anything to her. This was her
decision, she wanted you kept safe, isolated from the problem. I
think she honestly believed if there was one less thing you had to
worry about then there was one less reason for you to take a drink.
I'm not saying she made the best choice. But for her, for that
moment, it was the best possible choice."

Leo got up and began pacing the floor again. Toby sat and watched,
allowing the Chief of Staff a few moments privacy.

Eventually Leo stopped in the middle of the room and looked across at
Toby.

"Who knows?"

"CJ, Sam, Josh, Donna, and me. And now you."

"He doesn't know?" Leo said, referring to the President.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Okay." Leo sat down across from Toby once more. "Now I know how CJ
feels when we keep her out of the loop."

Toby ruminated on the turn of events in the last week and wondered
how his actions might have altered the relationship between the Chief
of Staff and his assistant. Deciding to push the envelope, Toby
reached across the table and put his hand on Leo's forearm. "I
realize this has been a hell of a lot to absorb in one night. I know
it's got to be a huge shock for you. But I want to ask you to keep
it in perspective, don't take your anger out on Margaret. She was
only trying to protect you."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not gonna haul off and yell at her or anything.
What good would that do? You're right she had a reason for not
tellin' me. I need to go over there in the mornin'. Do ya think
she'll let me in?"

"If I call CJ and tell her you're coming, Margaret won't have much
say in the matter." Toby replied with a slight smile. "However,
I'd make it an early visit. Margaret was bound and determined she
was going to be back at her desk by noon."

"That woman's a workaholic."

"Pot's calling the kettle black, there Leo."

"Yeah, like you've never spent the night in your office."

"Touché." Toby replied, shrugging.

"So, you all threw Margaret a birthday party?"

"A dinner party. Actually it was Donna's idea. Sam cooked, CJ made
salad, and Donna made the birthday cake."

"Carrot cake." Leo mumbled, remembering the slice Margaret had
brought him early the following morning. "Well that explains why I
couldn't reach anyone when the trade bill started to die."

"That's right, everyone's cell phones were in briefcases or handbags,
which were stored in Sam's closet. All except for mine."

"One last question. How do you know what a great dancer my assistant
is?"

"Why do you think Sam answered my cell phone?" Toby laughed as Leo
shook his head.

"I'm gonna head home for some sleep and a shower. Tell CJ I'll be at
Margaret's around 8:00."

"Better make it closer to 9:00, Leo. That pain medication is going
to leave Margaret pretty hung over."

The Chief of Staff stood up, shrugging back into his suit jacket.
Walking out of the Mess, he looked at his Communications Director,
still sitting at the table, contemplating a spot on the far
wall. "Toby?"

Shaking himself back to the present moment, Toby looked across at
Leo, leaning against the wall. "Yes, Leo?"

"You're a good friend." Leo exited the Mess and walked toward the
stairs leading to the West Wing. Toby could hear the sound of his
footsteps retreating down the hall.

6:00 a.m. – Saturday, February 16, 2002 – Margaret's Apartment

The steady vibration against her left arm jolted CJ out of a sound
sleep. Reaching across the front of her body with her right arm, she
grabbed the offending instrument. Flipping the cover back she
moaned, "Whoever you are, this had better be good."

"Well, good morning sunshine."

"Who are you and what have you done with my grumpy Toby?"

"Why, Claudia, I didn't know you cared."

"Funny stuff Ziegler. I waited up until 2:30, but you never called."

"Leo and I had quite the conversation."

CJ sat up on the sofa, pulling the blanket around her shoulders to
ward off the morning chill. "How'd he take it?"

"About like we expected. He's more hurt that she never told him than
anything. And although he'd never admit it, he's about half gone
with worry about what this biopsy's gonna show."

"Tell him to get in line."

"Anyway I called to tell you that he's coming over there this
morning."

"Oh wow, when?"

"About 9:00. He wanted to show up an hour earlier, but I managed to
talk him out of it."

"Thank you. I'll get Margaret out of bed and cleaned up. Then I'm
gonna come into the office for a few hours. I don't want to be
around when Hurricane Leo blows through."

"CJ, I seriously doubt if it's going to play out like that. But, I
think it's wise to vacate the premises before he arrives. They've
got plenty to talk about."

"You gonna be at the office when I get there?"

"Of course."

"See you then." CJ hit the "End" button on her phone, terminating
the call. Setting the phone in her handbag. CJ stood up and
stretched for a few seconds. Reaching forward, she grabbed her
eyeglasses from the coffee table and padded down the hall to
Margaret's bedroom.

Cracking the door, she peered around the corner. Margaret lay on her
back, in much the same position she'd left her in after their 3:00
trip to the bathroom. Looking closer, CJ could see she was awake,
staring at the ceiling. Crossing the room, she could hear the slight
hiccuping sound of Margaret crying. The Press Secretary sat on the
floor next to the bed, patting her friend's right shoulder. "What's
wrong? Are you in pain?"

"N-n-n-n-n-n-no, not too b-b-b-b-bad." Margaret stammered, trying to
gain control of her tears. "I'm sorry, CJ. I'm just being a wimp
and having a moment of panic, deliberating all the what-ifs
associated with this thing."

"Margaret you are not a wimp, you're one of the bravest people I
know. And if you weren't a little bit scared at the possibilities,
well I'd be worried about you. A little fear is healthy and
natural. But you're the last person I'd accuse of letting it get out
of hand. Now if it were Josh . . ."

"He'd have come up with a secret plan to fight cancer." Margaret
said beginning to giggle.

"And then he'd tell the press about it!" CJ said, getting in on the
act.

"He'd make Donna do note cards!"

"He'd yell at the pharmacy companies like he yells at Republicans."
CJ countered. Both women laughed at the mental image of Josh taking
on the prescription drug barons and the AMA.

"So, are you ready to get up?" CJ asked.

"I think so. I'd really like to take a shower, if that's all right."

"Sure, the nurse said it was fine, as long as we taped some plastic
over the dressing. After your shower, I'll change the dressing
again. Then I need to go into the White House for a few hours and
catch up on some paperwork. Will you be okay alone for a while?" CJ
asked, keeping Leo's impending visit a secret.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I've got tons of reading to do, or I may just
go back to sleep. I can't believe how tired I am.

"I can, your body was put through a fair amount of trauma yesterday.
Between the stress and the surgery, you probably ought to sleep the
weekend away."

By 8:30, both CJ and Margaret had taken showers and had breakfast.
CJ had changed Margaret's dressing and helped her into a pair of
leggings and a T-shirt that was at least 3 sizes too big for her thin
frame.

Starting the dishwasher and wiping down the counter, CJ looked across
at Margaret, propped up on the couch with the Saturday paper. "Do
you feel up to having a house full of company tonight?"

"You planning a keg party I don't know about?" Margaret giggled.

"Right. Actually, Sam, Toby, Josh, Donna, and I thought we'd pick up
a couple of pizzas, and come over to visit. We can watch the
Olympics or something."

"Sounds like fun."

"I'll call and check on you. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Positive, I'm not going to leave the apartment. Hopefully, Leo
bought Toby's excuse about my having a bug."

CJ chose not to respond to Margaret's comment, opting to pick up her
purse, overnight bag and laptop case. "I'll see you later."

"Sure thing CJ. Just leave the door unlocked; I'm safe for the time
being. I'll get up and lock it later." Margaret waved as CJ exited
the apartment.

A few moments later, the pain flared up, causing Margaret to wince
and grit her teeth. Easing herself off the sofa, she went into the
kitchen and removed an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it in a
dishtowel. She decided against taking more pain medication, opting
for two extra strength Tylenol instead. Returning to the living
room, she pulled the quilt from the back of the sofa with her right
arm. Taking her time and using her good arm to do all the work, she
managed to get her shirt off. No use getting it wet with the
condensation from the ice pack. Margaret lay down on the sofa and
pulled the quilt up to her chest, laying the ice pack over her left
breast.

She was just starting to doze off when someone knocked on her front
door. `I wonder what CJ forgot?' Margaret thought, raising up on
her right elbow. "It's still open CJ, come on in." she called, her
head flopping back onto the pillows and closing her eyes as another
wave of pain washed over her.

The door swung open slowly and Leo, clutching a bouquet of stargazer
lilies, stood just inside the door looking at his assistant,
stretched out on the couch and from the looks of it wearing nothing
but a double wedding ring quilt. Blushing furiously, Leo seriously
considered turning tail and running. However, his concern for
Margaret and the need to clear the air kept him rooted to the floor.

"CJ, what did you leave behind?" Margaret asked, keeping her eyes
closed.

Leo walked softly across the living room. Perching on the edge of
the coffee table, he studied Margaret closely, taking note of the
dark circles under her eyes and the way her hand clutched the edge of
the quilt.

Sensing someone leaning over her, Margaret slowly opened her right
eye. "Oh holy hell."

Leo leaned forward slightly from his seat on the coffee table, his
hands resting on his knees. "Funny, I was gonna say the same thing."

"Leo, forgive my rudeness, but what are you doing here? Shouldn't
you be at the White House? Is everything all right? Did something
happen to the President?" Margaret struggled to rise up from the
couch, giving up after a few seconds as the pain increased
exponentially and radiated across her chest. "Urrrrrrrgh." Gritting
her teeth and groaning in pain, Margaret worked to keep the quilt
near her collarbone.

Leo's eyes bugged out as he watched his assistant fight the post
surgical pain in an effort to get off the couch. Ostensibly to get
ready for work. "Relax, Margaret. I'm sure everything is at the
White House is fine. I doubt seriously the place will crumble to the
ground if neither one of us show up for a day."

"What do you mean, *neither* one of us?" Taking in Leo's casual
attire of khakis and a sweater, Margaret stared at her boss. "Why
aren't you wearing a suit?"

"Because I took the day off."

"Leo McGarry are you ill?"

"No, that's your department this weekend. You had surgery yesterday,
remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm painfully aware of that fact right now." Realization
crossed Margaret's face like a cloud covering the sun. "Tell me, who
had the big mouth *this* time?"

"Toby told me."

Margaret shut her eyes again. "Exactly *how* much did Toby divulge?"

"Pretty much everything."

Margaret's eyes flew open and she looked at her boss. "Okay . . .I
guess you're here for an explanation or my resignation, maybe both."

"What the hell are ya talking about, resignation?" Leo looked at his
assistant like she'd started speaking Russian.

"I figured you were just mad enough at me for not telling you about
this that canning me would be a logical move."

"Those pain pills have affected your judgement." Leo shook his head
slowly. "Margaret, you need to know that I'm not mad at you, not at
all. I'm man enough to admit that my feelings are hurt because you
never told me about this. But I've come to learn in the last twelve
hours that there are any number of things I don't know about you."

Margaret lay there, trying to absorb the fact that Leo just told her
she'd hurt his feelings. "I'm sorry, if I had known that you'd be
hurt by . . ."

"Well, I guess that's one thing you didn't know about me. I'm not a
totally insensitive jerk." Reaching back behind him on the coffee
table, Leo picked up the bundle of flowers. "I did find out from
Donna what your favorite flower is." Leo placed the bouquet on
Margaret's stomach.

Reaching over with her right arm, Margaret lifted the flowers to her
face. Inhaling deeply, she smiled at Leo over the tops of the
blooms. "Stargazers, thank you so much." Noticing that Leo had
taken to studying the carpet, Margaret put her hand on his
knee. "You okay, Leo?"

Leo continued staring at the floor, fighting the flush that was
creeping up his face and rapidly approaching his hairline. "Uh,
Margaret?"

"Yes, Leo?"

"The, um, the quilt there, it's uh, sorta uh, not where it was." Leo
stammered.

Margaret looked down and realized that, in fact the quilt had shifted
beneath the bouquet, exposing a small section of her chest with the
mastectomy scar. Margaret giggled as she adjusted the top of the
cover so that she was decent once again. There was no way Leo could
have seen a thing. "Okay, Leo, you can look up now."

Leo raised his head, face still beet red. "I can't believe you're
not embarrassed by that."

"I'm a cancer patient, I don't embarrass easily. Modesty is one of
the first things to fly out the window when you're diagnosed. The
number of people poking and prodding on you is unreal. Besides, it's
not as though you saw anything but the very tip of my scar."

"Yeah, but it's a scar where, you know . . ."

"My breast used to be?"

"Uh huh."

"Actually, it's a great scar, the surgeon was a regular Michelangelo."

"I'll take your word for it. Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead, I owe you at least that much."

"Why didn't you tell me about this when it happened?"

"You were in rehab when I had the surgery and started my
chemotherapy."

"Toby told me that. But why didn't ya tell me when I got back to
work?"

"You were still pretty raw from dealing with your addictions. I
watched you get through each day without pills or alcohol and I saw
what a struggle it was for you. I could not, would not add to that
burden. Besides, I had only been working for you for a couple of
years at that time. You still intimidated me no end."

"How long were ya on chemotherapy after I got back?"

"About five months."

"And you never said a word. Why not then?"

"Do you remember how hard you worked when you got back from Sierra
Tucson?" Leo nodded. "You were determined to make up for all the
lost time and then some. You didn't need the distraction of an
assistant who was running down the hall to puke her guts up one day a
week. Besides, I needed the job."

"Margaret, I would never fire you. You've always been too valuable.
You're the best assistant I've ever had. From the first week we
worked together, ya made yourself indispensable. There are very few
people who would stick with me that long."

"My pleasure." Margaret said with a smile. "Leo, bad as I hate to
ask this, I need your help."

"What's the matter? Are you in pain? Do you need your medication?"
Leo jumped up and stood over his assistant.

"Calm down, it's nothing that dramatic. I need to sit up and I need
to get rid of this ice pack. If you'll stand behind me and help
support my back, I think we can manage.

"Okay, tell me what to do."

"Stand at the end of the couch, behind my head." Leo moved as she
directed him to. "I'm going to ease myself up on my right elbow.
If you'll put your hands on my back and help push me into a sitting
position, I can sit up and manage to avoid flashing you." Margaret
got her right arm positioned and began to lift herself off the
sofa. "All right, Leo, let's see if we can get me upright."

Leo leaned forward, tucking the ends of the quilt around her
shoulders and gently pushing upward, bringing Margaret to a sitting
position. This task accomplished, Leo found himself staring at the
smooth expanse of her bare back. Coughing, Leo turned away before
she caught him acting like a lecherous old man. "Hand me the ice
pack and I'll take it into the kitchen."

Margaret removed the towel with the plastic bag inside and handed it
over to her boss. "Thanks, I'll be back in a moment, I'm going to
the bathroom."

"Can you manage?" Leo called from the kitchen.

"Walking I can actually accomplish." Margaret took off for the back
of the apartment, the quilt still clutched to her chest.

Leo found the teakettle and put water on. Locating the teapot and
the Earl Grey on the far counter, he waited for the water to boil.
When the teakettle whistled, he poured the water over the tea bags,
setting a dishtowel over the pot to keep it warm as it steeped.

Walking back into the living room, he wondered what was taking
Margaret so long. Going to the bathroom door, he knocked
gently. "Are you okay Margaret?"

"Yeah, just having a bit of a struggle getting into my shirt again."

"Want some help?"

"And risk your eyes bugging out of your head again? No thank you."
Margaret laughed.

"Fine by me." Leo walked back into the living room, muttering to
himself. "Stubborn woman."

A couple of moments later, Leo heard the bathroom door open and
Margaret's footsteps in the hall.

"Okay, I give in, I need help." Margaret stood in front of him, her
long sleeved tee-shirt half on, her left arm dangling at her side, a
fully frustrated look on her face.

"Well, that's an interesting look for you." Leo said, trying not to
laugh.

"You're a real wit, Leo, now get over here and help me or I'll flash
you just for meanness."

"Promises, promises." Leo said, trying for levity and falling far
short. "I'm sorry, that was out of line."

"No, I deserved it. It's just completely out of character for you."

Leo stood beside Margaret and gently eased her left arm through the
sleeve of the shirt, careful to avoid touching any bare skin, except
that of her hand. Pulling the oversized shirt so that it fell over
her hips and toward her knees, Leo looked at his assistant. "Better?"

"Much, thank you." Margaret went back to the sofa. Putting an extra
pillow on one end, she sat down, curling her legs to the side, and
propping her left arm on the pillows.

"I poked around in the kitchen and found the stuff for tea. You want
a cup?"

"That would be nice, thank you. I can get it though."

"Margaret ya just had surgery. Let me do this." Leo walked into the
kitchen and poured tea into two mugs. He set Margaret's mug on the
end table next to the sofa. Walking back across the living room, he
stood looking at the black and white landscape photographs that hung
over the desk. "These are great."

"I'm fond of them." Margaret answered.

Leo walked over to the chair Margaret had occupied the previous
evening and sat down.

"You said we needed to talk." Margaret prompted.

"Yeah, I've got plenty of questions."

"Ask away, I'm not going anywhere."

"Why didn't you tell me you had cancer?"

"I explained that to you, Leo. I didn't want you worried about me.
I didn't want to distract from everything you were trying to
accomplish."

"That's all well and good Margaret, but what about after that?
You've carried this alone for years. What stood in the way of you
tellin' me?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit, I think ya do know. Trust me Margaret, I can take
whatever ya have to tell me. It's probably not any worse than what
I'm thinkin'."

Margaret took a sip of tea and set the mug back on the table.
Looking her boss in the eye, she decided it was time to lay all the
cards on the table. "I never said anything because I lived in mortal
fear that my cancer would be what drove you back to the bottle."

"Oh, Margaret, you couldn't be the one who forced me off the wagon.
Only I could do that. No matter how bad things get, it's up to me
how I handle it. Sobriety or being dead drunk; it's my decision.
You shoulda said somethin'."

"It's over and done with, you know now. I'm sorry not knowing hurt
your feelings." Margaret said, feeling tears well up in her eyes.
One slid down her cheek and she brushed it away.

"Are you cryin'?"

"What of it?"

Leo got up and walked over to the sofa. Sitting down beside
Margaret, he handed her his handkerchief. "Don't cry Margaret,
certainly not over somethin' like me gettin' upset."

"But I hurt you and I'd never do that for anything in the world."
Margaret wiped more tears from her face.

"Oh, Margaret, I know you wouldn't hurt me intentionally. You
thought ya were doin' the right thing. It's just my ego that's
bruised, I'll get over it." Leo wrapped his left arm around
Margaret's shoulders. "Ya know, when I came back to the Department
of Labor, your hair was awful short. I always thought you'd gotten a
new hair cut."

"Nope, that was new hair."

"Figured as much." Leo leaned back and looked at his
assistant. "Tell me what your oncologist said yesterday."

"There were two small lumps. One of them showed up on the mammogram
and she felt the other one right before she started the procedure.
She took both of them out and sent them to the lab."

"When do you get the results?"

"Anywhere from a week to ten days. The office will call when the
report comes in."

"That's a hell of a long wait. Any way we can get `em to speed it
up?"

"Not hardly, Leo. These independent labs are very busy."

"Well, then, we'll just have to wait."

"Leo, I appreciate your concern, but this is my thing. I can handle
it."

"Oh no you don't Margaret, you can't pull that independent woman
routine this time."

"Leo, you've got too much work to do, you've gotta get the President
reelected. There's too much out there for you to be fussing around
like a mother hen over my test results."

"You're right, there's a lot of work that needs to be done. And I'm
not gonna get it done right if you're not with me. You're the person
who keeps me straight. And if I wanna worry about your damned biopsy
results then I'm gonna worry and you can't stop that. Got it?"

"What's gotten into you? This isn't like you."

"Yeah, it is like me, you've just never seen it before. I'll be
honest with ya, Margaret. The thought of you bein' sick and havin'
to take chemo again is a helluva lot to wrap my mind around. If
there were anything I could do to prevent it, heaven knows I would."

"Leo, calm down, there's no reason to talk like that. The lumps
might benign. And if they're not, well, let's not borrow trouble.
It will be okay, no matter what."

"How do ya keep so calm about this? I'm scared shitless, here."

"As you said, this was all new to you a few hours ago. I've done
this before, Leo. I've already seen the ugly side of this scenario.
I've had surgery and done the treatments. I remember, really well,
what it was all like. Besides, I'm scared too, I just try not to let
it rule my life."

"Okay, you be calm, I'll be a nervous wreck." Leo smiled at his
assistant.

"Now that'd be a switch. People would think we'd traded personality
traits." Margaret laughed.

"Yeah, the President would have to take *you* into the Sit Room with
him."

"No thank you, that's your department. What I know about missile
defense you could fit on the head of a pen."

"Which brings up another issue. Apparently I was so drunk when I
interviewed you that I failed to notice that you have a Master's
degree in political science."

"That's all right. It's not that big a deal."

"Yeah it is. You had to work hard to get that degree. I've ignored
the fact that you came to work for me already knowing an awful lot
about how government works. Toby says you're a policy genius."

"Oh, I'm no genius. I've just read enough of the stuff to hold my
own in a policy debate."

"Toby also informed me ya speak a couple of languages other than
English."

"Toby has a big mouth."

"So it's true?"

"Yes, I speak Spanish and Portuguese. I also speak a little bit of
French."

"Wow, how'd ya learn all that?"

"I grew up in a neighborhood that had a fairly high Hispanic
population. I'm also one of those people who picks up languages
easily."

The two of them were quiet for a couple of moments. Margaret leaned
her head on the back of the sofa and sighed deeply.

"Something wrong?" Leo asked.

"No, I just can't believe you took the whole day off to come over
here."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, aside from the obvious reasons of needing to keep Josh and Sam
from running the country into the ground . . ."

"The country is fine, I told the President and Toby they could call
me on my cell phone if need be."

"The President knows?" Margaret squeaked, raising her head and
looking at Leo.

"Yeah, he does. I went into the office before I came over here and
talked to him about it."

"You couldn't keep him out of the loop? This isn't the sort of thing
he needs to be worrying about."

"I beg to differ with ya on that one. He's known ya as long as I
have Margaret, and thinks of you as another daughter.

"Well, the feeling's mutual. I have a great deal of affection for
the President and Dr. Bartlet."

"Which reminds me, Abby'll be here in a little while. Wants to check
your incision or somethin'."

"Thanks a lot, McGarry. Why don't we sell tickets? We can fund a
battered women's shelter in Qumar with the proceeds."

"Calm down, Margaret. I mentioned the words `Margaret had surgery
yesterday,' and the President grabbed the phone and called Abby
before I could stop him. She was in the Oval 30 seconds after he
hung up the phone.

"I don't suppose there's any way you could call her off?"

"Nope, I really couldn't. You know how the two of them are about
family. Since you're considered extended family, all that
overprotective crap gets passed on to you."

"Swell." Margaret turned her head as the phone on the desk rang.

Leo got up and walked over to the desk, removing the cordless phone
and bringing it back to Margaret.

Margaret depressed the "talk" button and held the phone up to her
ear. "Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line caused her to
attempt to sit up straighter. "Good morning, sir. Much better, sir,
thank you for asking. Yes, sir, I realize that. No, sir. No, sir,
I promise sir. Yes, sir, that's fine. Until then, Mr. President."
Margaret disconnected the call and sat with the phone in her lap,
staring vacantly out the window.

"What did he want?" Leo asked.

"That was the President." Margaret began, as though she'd not heard
Leo's question. "He was calling from the limo. He and the First
Lady are on their way over. They're about five minutes out."

"Are you sure you feel up to dealing with this? I can go down and
tell them you're not up to visitors and just have Abby come up and
check you."

Margaret snorted. "I think we both know the President isn't going to
sit still for being left down in the car while Dr. Bartlet is up here
examining me."

"Yeah."

A couple of moments later, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Leo
got up and let the three Secret Service agents in. After a quick
check of the apartment, they nodded at Leo and escorted the President
and Abby inside. One agent remained in the room while the other two
stood outside the door.

"Margaret, how are you? No, please don't try to stand up. Let's
forego the formality for once." The President crossed the room
quickly and leaned over to give Leo's assistant a gentle hug.

Abby hugged Leo and sat down next to Margaret on the sofa. "How do
you feel, Margaret?"

"Honestly, ma'am, like I went ten rounds with Muhammad Ali and lost
horribly."

"That sounds about right. Why don't you show me where your bedroom
is and let me take a look at your incision?" Leo helped Margaret off
the couch and she started to walk toward the bedroom. Abby followed
her, leaving the President and his Chief of Staff to their own
devices.

"So, don't bullshit me, Leo. How is she?"

"She's made of strong stuff sir. She's in more pain than she's
willing to let on, but other than being stiff and sore on the left
side, I think she came through the operation remarkably well. Then
again, Mr. President, I know next to nothing about breast cancer."

"That's okay, between them Abby and Margaret probably know enough for
the entire staff." Leo nodded. "How are you holding up?" The
President asked.

"I'm better than I was when I saw ya last. We've talked most of it
through, sir. Turns out she hid the illness `cause she was afraid it
would start me drinkin' again."

"Margaret truly is of service to you. You don't deserve that woman,
Leo."

"Tell me somethin' I don't know. She's always there for me, just
like Delores was for you, Mr. President."

"Yeah." Bartlet replied, unwilling to goad Leo into a deeper
dissection of his relationship with Margaret. Time enough for that
later.

Abby came out of the bedroom, medical bag in her right hand.
Slipping her left arm around her husband's waist, she smiled at their
longtime friend. "Margaret's too good for you, got that jackass?"

"Great, here she goes again with the jackass routine." Leo grumbled
to the President. "What'd I do this time?" Leo asked the First Lady.

"I'll have you know she just tried to talk me into helping her get
dressed so she could go into the Wing for the rest of the day. She's
more worried about the function of the country than she is about
recovering from that lumpectomy."

"She's been antsy like that since I got here, Abby." Leo
stated. "I've told her the place won't fall down without either of
us there."

"Remember that Leo." Bartlet cut in. "I don't want to see either of
you in the West Wing, or any other part of the White House for that
matter, until Monday morning. If I do, so help me I'll tell the
Service to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Understood sir. Abby, other than itching to get back to work, how
is she?" Leo asked.

"The incision sight looks good, although it's still pretty red and
swollen. She needs to keep ice packs on it for most of today. I
also talked her into taking a pain pill in a few minutes. She's been
trying to go without them since about 3 this morning. I told her
it's too soon to go cold turkey. She can cut back to half a pill at
bedtime tonight if she thinks she can manage it. I did get her
dressing changed. Although she'd never admit it to us, she's
exhausted. I basically ordered her to stay in bed and take a nap."

"Thank you Abby. I was gonna try to force her to sleep, but I
wouldn't get as far with her."

"Having an M.D. comes in handy at times. Darling, let's get out of
here and let Leo get his assistant a pain pill and an ice pack. Leo,
you are going to stay the rest of the day, correct?"

"I hadn't planned on leaving. I've got my briefcase with me; I can
do some paperwork while she's resting. I think Donna or CJ plans on
spendin' the night with her again."

"Leo, we're going back to the White House, call if you need
anything. And remember, no trips into the office until Monday." The
President said, nodding at the Secret Service agent, who opened the
door to the hallway.

"Yes sir. Thank you Abby, have a good weekend."

"You too, Leo. Look after our girl." The President and First Lady
exited the apartment building in the company of their Agents.

Leo went into the kitchen and pulled an ice pack from the freezer.
Locating the pharmacy bottle of pain pills on the bathroom vanity, he
filled a small tumbler with water. Carrying everything in his arms,
he walked to the back of the hall, and pushed open the slightly open
door to what he determined as Margaret's bedroom.

His assistant was stretched out in the middle of the queen-sized bed;
red hair spread out on the white pillowcase. She was sound asleep,
her breathing deep and even. Leo hated to wake her, but knew better
than to disobey Abby's medical orders.

Placing the ice pack and water on the bedside table, Leo bent over
and gently tapped Margaret's right shoulder. "Margaret, can you wake
up for just a second? The First Lady wants you to take some
medicine."

Margaret's eyes opened slowly as she scrubbed at them with her right
hand. "Huh? Oh, okay Leo, let met sit up first." Margaret rolled
over on her right side and used her elbow to lever herself into a
semi-upright position.

Leo handed over the medication and glass of water. Taking the glass
back, he passed her the ice pack. "Do ya need some help getting that
situated?"

"No, thanks, I've got it. I'm going to go back to sleep for a little
while." Margaret tucked the ice pack underneath the covers and
closed her eyes.

Leo stood at the side of the bed for a moment, making sure Margaret
was fully asleep. Leaning over the bed, he brushed an errant strand
of hair away from her face. "Sleep well Margaret." Leo whispered,
walking into the living room.

3:30 p.m. Saturday, February 16, 2002 – Margaret's Apartment

Leo sat on Margaret's sofa, going through the paperwork he'd missed
by being out the previous day. His wire-framed glasses were perched
on the end of his nose and the sleeves of his sweater were pushed
halfway up his forearms. Busily writing notes in the margins, he
didn't appear to notice Margaret's entrance into the room.

Standing directly behind her boss, Margaret watched him outlining the
work that various members of the Senior Staff would need to do on the
bill. Turning her head to the right, Margaret realized the faint
sound in the background was music coming from the compact disc player
of her stereo system. Taking two steps closer to the sofa, she
placed her right hand on the back of the blue twill fabric and leaned
toward her boss. "Your penmanship is horrendous." Margaret intoned
softly.

Leo had seen Margaret's reflection in the windows directly in front
of him and, for once, did not jump as though he'd been jolted with an
electric cattle prod. Tipping his head back, he grinned at his
assistant. "Well, look who finally decided to wake up. How'd ya
sleep?"

"Really well, thanks. How long was I out for?"

Leo consulted his watch and started to laugh. "Would you believe
four and a half hours? That's probably more sleep than ya get on a
normal work night."

"That's just because my boss and I are perpetual workaholics."
Margaret laughed.

"But not this weekend. The President issued strict orders that
neither one of us are to set foot in the Wing until Monday.
Something about having the Secret Service use us for target practice
if we dare disobey."

"Great, there will be an even bigger pile of work to deal with on
Monday."

"Not necessarily." Leo looked like he had something up his sleeve.

"What did you do, bribe Eddie to go get it for you? Because I think
the President will get a little suspicious if he catches your driver
mucking about in the office." Margaret wondered what scheme her boss
had cooked up.

"But if Josh or Donna goes into the office, that doesn't look
abnormal at all. Donna called while you were asleep and I asked her
to pick up some files for us." Hurrying to amend his statement, Leo
continued, "I mean, it's not as though ya have to spend the whole
weekend working. I just thought . . ."

Margaret walked across the room and settled into a wingback
chair. "Relax Leo, I fully agree with you. I don't want to be
behind the eight ball on Monday morning any more than you do. We
should certainly be able to get some of the paperwork cleared up
between now and then."

"Yeah. Donna also mentioned that the entire Senior Staff was showing
up here for dinner?"

"I forgot about that. CJ said they'd be by with pizza early this
evening. Something about watching the Olympics." Margaret said,
recalling her early morning conversation with the Press Secretary.

"Sounds like fun."

"Fun? As far as I can remember, Leo, I have never known you to
engage in anything remotely fun."

"Margaret, you wound me. I'll have you know I am a *very* fun loving
guy."

This statement caused Margaret to laugh, loudly. "If that's the
case, why have I *never* seen you at any of the extracurricular
activities the Staff engages in?"

"Two reasons. One: that whole workaholic thing you mentioned
earlier. Two: I try to avoid temptation, if you know what I mean."

Margaret thought about her boss' statement for a moment. "I see what
you mean, some of those functions are based around alcohol."

"I'm okay around small groups or when everyone isn't hell-bent on
getting plastered. But when it's one of those `drown your sorrows'
deals that Josh and Sam are famous for instigating, well I'm better
off working late."

Margaret sat there silently for a moment, considering this new
insight into Leo's character. She had always assumed the age
difference and Leo's general personality were what kept him from
spending time with his staff outside the White House.
Picking up the thread of the conversation again, Leo continued, "I'm
glad that everyone is coming by to check on ya tonight. It'll be
nice to actually spend some time with them when we're not arguing
about the reelection campaign or some policy issue. Speakin' of
policy issues, you wanna help me with this summary?"

"Sure thing." Margaret walked over to the desk, opening the center
drawer and extracting a small black leather case. Margaret removed a
pair of thin gold wire framed glasses from the case and set them on
her face. She sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from Leo, her
legs curled beneath her. Margaret reached for the sections of the
bill the Chief of Staff had already reviewed.

Leo picked up the first fifteen pages of the bill and handed them to
her. "Well, there's another thing I never knew; you wear glasses."

"That's because I wear contact lenses at the office." Margaret
settled down with her part of the legislation and a legal pad,
working up a list of which research and lobbying tasks would be
farmed out to each member of the Senior Staff.

An hour later, without thinking or looking up from the notes she was
making, Margaret turned and stretched her legs out on the sofa, her
feet resting on the khaki covered left leg of her boss.

Absorbed in his own stack of paperwork, Leo did not immediately
register the fact that Margaret had invaded his space. When he did,
it was without conscious thought, as his left hand began idly
stroking the top of her right foot.

For her part, Margaret was equally oblivious; she remained fully
engrossed in making sure the workload was distributed equitably.
Gradually, the sensation of Leo's fingers on her feet permeated her
consciousness and she looked down, not at all surprised that Leo was
paying no attention to where his hand was. `Time to have a little
fun.' Margaret decided. Without preamble, she said, "I never knew
you had a foot fetish, Leo."

"What are you . . . oh crap, I am *so* sorry, I wasn't even aware I
was doing that! Damn, I'm sorry!"

"You said that already. Stop apologizing, Leo, it's not that big a
deal. Now, if you'll unleash that death grip you've got on my toes,
I'll get my feet off your leg."

Leo relaxed his grip, but kept his hand on her foot. "Keep your feet
where they are. I'll move across the room."

"You're fine where you are. If it doesn't bother you, it's fine with
me." Margaret flexed her toes.

Feeling the tops of her toes press against the palm of his hand, Leo
slid his hand closer to her ankle. Looking down, he couldn't resist
an editorial comment. "Interesting paint job."

Margaret looked over the rimless lenses of her glasses at the lapis
blue polish on her toenails. Deciding that she needed to shock him
out of his surprise with the fact that her toenails were a color
other than the traditional red or pink, she countered. "You should
have seen them in October when we lost the bet."

"You lost a bet with your toenails?" Leo was seconds away from
laughing full in the face of his assistant.

"Follow me here, Leo. Back in September, Nancy McNalley made the
mistake of teasing the President about college football. Something
to the effect the Notre Dame couldn't play their way out of a wet
paper sack."

"That was *not* a smooth move."

"Tell me about it. Anyway, she got CJ and Donna and a couple of the
rest of us to start trying to pick who would win the weekly college
games. We went to the president and told him we were certain that
his beloved Fighting Irish would lose to Stanford, which is Nancey's
alma mater."

"Turns out Notre Dame kicked some major ass in that game."

"Which is why, as punishment we all had vivid green toenails for a
week."

"Sorry I missed that."

"Oh there's accurate documentation of the fact."

"Not photographs?"

"Oh, yeah, there's a picture of The President crouched down on the
floor of the Oval, surrounded by five pairs of bare feet, green
toenails and all."

"You gotta copy of this?"

"In my desk at work."

"Burn it, but first . . ."

"You wanna see it, ask the President." Margaret smiled at Leo and
went back to her notes.

7:30 p.m. Saturday, February 16, 2002 – Margaret's Apartment

The doorbell rang jolting Leo and Margaret out of their work-induced
stupor. "Sit still, Margaret, I've got it." Leo lifted his
assistant's feet from his lap, setting them on the sofa. Leo crossed
the room and opened the door to find his Senior Staff and their
assistants in the hallway. "What'd you do, evacuate the building?"
Leo said, grinning at the assembled company.

"Looks that way." Sam answered, leading everyone into the
apartment. "Margaret, how are you feeling?" Sam set a shopping bag
on the floor and leaned over to give Margaret a hug.

"Better than I did earlier." Margaret said, reaching out for Sam's
hand to help steady her as she stood up. Walking across the room, she
greeted each of her visitors.

Toby and CJ hung back, letting everyone else visit with Margaret
first. They had, after all, spent a considerable amount of time with
her the day before. "Has she been behaving herself?" CJ asked Leo.

"Not at first, she kept goin' on about needing to be at work. Then
the President and Abbey came by and laid down the law."

"We heard about that. At least we now know what it takes to get you
to take a weekend off. If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I'm going
to go help Josh and Sam get dinner set up." CJ walked away from the
pair and into the kitchen.

Toby and Leo stood by the windows, watching as Bonnie, Carol, Donna,
and Ginger crowded around Margaret. "How's it going?" Toby asked,
never taking his eyes off the gathering in the living room.

Leo understood that Toby was talking about a point of reference other
than Margaret's physical health. "Good, we've talked it out. You
were right, she was afraid I'd drink again if I knew. I gotta tell
ya Toby, I still feel like a total shit because I never picked up on
it."

"Quit kicking yourself over that, it's water under the bridge. The
important thing is that you know . . . that we all know. We can be
there for her if, perish the thought, anything happens."

"Yeah, but I'm tryin' not to think about that."

"What are you two doing over here, trading state secrets?" Margaret
said as she walked over to where the Chief of Staff and
Communications Director were standing. "Hi Toby."

"Hi there, you look a lot better than the last time I saw you." Toby
leaned forward and kissed Margaret's right cheek.

"The last time you saw me, I was waxed on pain meds and unable to
walk straight."

"Has the boss been taking good care of you?"

"Yeah, we even managed to get some work done."

"Leo . . ." Toby said, a mock growl in his voice.

"Calm down, Toby, I'd much rather be busy than sitting here doing
nothing." Margaret said. "This way we'll be able to come back on
Monday without facing a huge backlog."

"You're workaholics, you know that?" Toby said, shaking his head.

"We're well aware of the fact." Leo said.

"Dinner's ready!" Sam called. Everyone walked into the kitchen and
began to fill plates with pizza and salad.

11:20 p.m. Saturday, February 16, 2002 – Margaret's Apartment

Margaret rested on the couch as Leo walked everyone out to their
cars. She heard the sounds of everyone saying goodnight and Donna's
distinctive giggle, doubtless over something Josh had said or done.
The roar of engines coming to life filtered up from the street as her
colleagues headed home.

Leo let himself into the apartment shortly thereafter. "Well, that
was great fun."

"It was. I can't believe you men were so, so, unsportsmanlike!"

"What, you gotta problem with us rooting for the home team?" Leo
asked, smiling at his assistant.

"Not until you all started yelling `fall, damn you!' every time a
skier from another country went down the hill."

"Hey, CJ was yelling too."

"CJ was yelling the louder than anyone else." Margaret
recalled. "No matter what, it was a nice to have them all here. We
really ought to do things like that more often."

Changing the subject, Leo sat down on the ottoman. "So, Donna tells
me ya decided to try staying by yourself tonight."

"I'm feeling much better Leo. I wouldn't have told her to go home if
I didn't think I could make it."

"Are you sure? I can have Eddie bring me a change of clothes and I
can sleep out here."

"You spend enough nights sleeping on a couch as it is. You're not
doing it here. I can manage. I did so the first time and that was
much worse."

"You'll call me if you need anything?"

"I promise. Now why don't you call Eddie and have him come pick you
up?"

"Tryin' to get rid of me?"

"It's late and we're both tired. I'm going to take half a pain pill
and crash."

Leo nodded and reached for his cell phone. Hitting one of the speed
dial buttons, he waited until his driver answered. "Eddie, it's
Leo. I need for you to pick me up. Yeah, I'm still at Ms. Rigby's
apartment. Thanks." Closing the phone he looked up at
Margaret. "Are ya sure you don't want . . ."

"Stop worrying Leo, I'll be fine. In fact, you don't have to come by
tomorrow. Take the day off, visit Mallory or something."

"For one thing, Mal's out of town this weekend. For another, I
promised the President I'd stay with you this weekend, so that's what
I'm gonna do."

"Arguing with you is just a waste of time and breath isn't it?"

"Pretty much." Leo thought about the conversations they'd had
throughout the day. "Tell me somethin' Margaret."

"What's on your mind?"

"Last night, when Toby was fillin' me in on what happened, he started
by asking me how much I knew about you. It's apparent I'm pretty
clueless. How much don't I know?"

Margaret was able to read between the lines of Leo's question. "Leo
there are no other big surprises out there. However, the other
things you don't know about me could stun a team of oxen."

"Funny, that's what Toby said." Leo stood up and put his cell phone
in the pocket of his jacket. Reaching for his briefcase, he smiled
at Margaret. "I'll see ya in the morning."
Margaret walked to the door with him. "Good night, Leo." Without
thinking, she reached forward with her right hand and smoothed his
hair back from his forehead. "Oops, sorry `bout that." Margaret
blushed deeply.

"It's okay, Margaret, I don't mind." Leo said, smiling slightly.
Breaking one of his cardinal rules, Leo gave Margaret a kiss on the
cheek and let himself out of the apartment. Walking to the car he
wondered why he suddenly felt flushed.

"Evening, Mr. McGarry." Eddie said, opening the back door.

"Eddie, thanks for comin' to get me so late." Leo slid into the back
seat.

"Mr. McGarry, by your standards, this is early!" Eddie laughed as
they pulled away from the curb.

A couple of miles later, Eddie smiled at the sound coming from the
back of the car and spoke up. "Mr. McGarry, I think this is the
first time I've ever heard you whistle."

"Thing is, I can't recall what the song is. It's somethin' that was
playin' on the stereo at Marga . . . Ms. Rigby's apartment."

"You want a hint?"

"Enlighten me, please, or this is gonna be running through my head
for days."

"It's from My Fair Lady." Eddie said and began to sing.

"I was supremely independent, and content before we met.
Surely I could always be that way again and yet.
I've grown accustomed to the trace of something in the air.
Accustomed to her face."

Fin

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