Josh paced the makeshift hallway, peering between the bright blue drapes in the general direction of the elevators.  He was trying his hardest not to panic, but -- the Governor had collapsed.

Sort of.  More like he would have collapsed had Toby and Sam not caught him.  None of which had much to do with whether or not he'd be ready to debate Senator Len Trott in six hours, which was the actual reason for Josh's bouts of panic.

Josh did a small loop in front of the room into which CJ had ushered the Governor, Toby, and Sam.  He couldn't see inside, but he paused to listen.  Abbey Bartlet had arrived, and she didn't sound terribly upset.

Josh let out a little sigh of relief.  At least it didn't seem to be anything life-threatening.  But would the Governor be fully recovered from... well, from whatever the hell it was in six hours?  Because Josh would rather cancel the debate -- or postpone if possible -- than send the Governor out there looking peaked and weak.

Not that canceling was really an option.

Where the hell was Leo?  Josh wondered, considering calling up to his room one more time.  He fingered his cellphone for a moment, then tucked it back in his pocket.

They couldn't call off the debate.  It was nine days before the election, and they couldn't call it off, because Trott would spin it like the Governor was playing games.  Like the Governor was afraid to debate him, because the issues on the slate were tough issues for Democrats -- Social Security, welfare reform, crime.

And the last thing the Bartlet for America campaign needed was for the liberal academic policy wonk from New Hampshire to be cast as scared; they were already deficient in the manly-man department, what with the Governor's preference for chess and reading old books in dead languages.

Trott, on the other hand, played rugby in college, and still enjoyed the occasional vigorous round of golf.  Or at least that's what he kept telling reporters in what CJ referred to as a stupid yet annoyingly effective way to exploit the Governor's relatively wussy image.

Josh raked a hand through his hair and considered calling Leo again.

"We can't call this off."

Josh whirled around to find CJ looking down at him, a worried look on her face.

"How is he?"  Josh indicated the room behind her with a tilt of his chin.

"Abbey moved him up to their suite."  CJ waved a dismissive hand.  "She says he's just overtired.  Maybe a cold.  Look, Josh, we can't call this off, or Trott's going to run ads with footage of himself climbing the damn mountains in Iowa."

Josh frowned.  "Does Iowa have mountains?"

"Who cares, Josh?"  CJ glared at him.

Sighing, Josh nodded.  "I know, but what if--"

"He'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Abbey seems sure," CJ shrugged.  "She's the doctor."

"Yeah."  Josh paced a small, tight circle.  "She said it's a cold?"

"She thinks so."  CJ tapped a pencil absently against her palm.  "I think he may have been coughing earlier."

Josh tried to remember, but the hotels had a tendency to melt together, and he thought it was possible he was thinking of the Marriott in Lansing.  Or was that when CJ had the migraine?

"Okay," Josh said.  "Okay.  If anyone asks, he's taking some time for himself before the debate."

CJ nodded.  "Right.  Reflecting on the issues and--"

"Yeah."

The elevator dinged, and Josh's attention slid past CJ to the man stumbling a little bit as he stepped into the hallway.

Josh froze, and something made him glance back at CJ.  She was mostly facing him, one hand rubbing at her temple and, more importantly, her back to the elevators.  But any second, she would turn around, or glance down the hallway and see Leo.  Josh moved backwards, drawing CJ's attention.  "Hey, go run that by Toby?"

CJ frowned at him.  "Taking time for himself?"

"Yeah."  Josh willed her to just listen to him and go, but she didn't seem so inclined.  His gaze strayed over her shoulder to Leo, who was making his way down the hallway with deliberate care.  Something inside Josh's gut clenched in dread.  Please, he thought, not this.  Not now.

"He is."

Josh blinked.  "What?"

CJ looked very annoyed.  "The Governor is taking some time for himself; I have to run this by Toby why?"

"CJ, just--"  Josh stopped himself before he overstepped his bounds.  "Just please?"

"Okay, okay," CJ relented, slipping past him.

Josh stood there in the hallway, watching Leo watch him.

"Josh."

Josh winced as the alcohol on Leo's breath assaulted him.  Bourbon, he thought.  Maybe scotch.  He wasn't very good with liquor.

But Leo -- Leo was awful.

That's why Leo didn't drink.

"Leo," Josh said, only it came out a whisper.

Leo blinked.  "Where's the Governor?"

"Leo, you're--"  He didn't understand why it was so damn hard to say out loud.  He'd known for years.  His father had known, his mother had known.  Hell, Leo himself had taken Josh aside a few days after he'd joined the campaign to tell him.  Just in case.  But Josh never seriously thought it would be a problem; maybe a few smear pieces in the Washington Times or the New York Post.  Nothing to worry about, though, because they'd be dishing ancient history.

Because Leo didn't drink anymore.

Josh tried again.  "You're..."

"I'm here," Leo nodded, and he seemed almost normal.  Almost sober.  Almost.  "Where's the Governor?"

Josh looked away, his gaze finding the TV monitor down the hallway.  He had to force the words out.  "You're drunk."

Leo didn't acknowledge Josh's accusation.  "Where's the Governor?"

No wonder Leo's downward spiral stayed secret even though he was the Secretary of Labor; he was so convincing with those clear, guileless eyes.

"Leo," Josh said again.  "Come on."  He reached for Leo's arm.  "Let's go--"

"No."  Leo jerked away, but his reflexes weren't quite fast enough.  He stumbled, one hand scrabbling at the screen.  Josh grabbed him just before he fell over.

"It's okay," Josh called to the curious crew members looking their way.  "Just a loose wire."  He waved vaguely towards the mass of electrical cords nearby.  "You may want to tape these down."

He slung an arm around Leo's shoulder, deceptively casual, considering the death grip he had on Leo's arm.  He ushered the older man back towards the elevator.  "Come on."

"Is the Governor okay?" Leo demanded, struggling to free himself.

"He's fine."  Josh's words were clipped, but he gave a small, cordial nod to a passing Trott staffer.

"Josh."  Leo slurred the name a little.  "Josh, I should see him.  He can't cancel."

"Abbey's with him, he's fine."  Josh punched the call button and stared up at the floor indicator as if he could will the damn thing to move faster.  "You, on the other hand, are not."

"We can't cancel," Leo said.

"We're not."

"Josh--"

"Not now," Josh commanded.  He'd never used that tone with Leo before, and he really hoped he'd never have to again.

Leo raised his voice and tried again.  "Josh--"

Josh spun around and pinned Leo with a glare.  "Do you trust me, Leo?"

"I'm fine, Josh."  Leo tried to shrug it off, to shrug him off.

"You're not fine!"  If he hadn't been so hyperaware of their surroundings, of the consequences if this ever hit the papers, Josh would have been yelling himself hoarse.  As things stood, he had to settle for an angry whisper.

Leo made a dismissive gesture and forced a laugh.  "Okay, so I had a scotch.  That doesn't mean--"

"It does."

The elevator arrived, thank God, and Josh took advantage of Leo's slowed responses to manhandle him inside.

Leo stumbled over the threshold, then turned a glare Josh's way.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Saving your ass," Josh answered tightly, jabbing the button for Leo's floor.

Leo crossed his arms.  "You called me," he accused.  "You called and said the Governor's collapsed and you need my help.  How dare you--"

"How dare you, Leo?" Josh yelled, slamming the emergency stop button.  The jarring halt tossed Leo into the wall.  Josh winced, but didn't let up.  "You're an alcoholic, for god's sake!  What the hell happened?"

Leo turned away.  "I don't need this."

"You do need it.  Obviously you need it, Leo, because you're standing here drunk."

"I'm not drunk," he insisted, but the defensiveness was gone, replaced by something akin to fear.

Josh paced the small space, his gaze never straying from the bent back before him.  "You are, Leo.  You know you are.  What I don't understand is why now?  Why would you do this now?  We're gonna win, Leo.  We're gonna get the White House.  How dare you risk--"

"How dare you," Leo roared, whirling around, one hand landing on the wall to steady himself, "presume to tell me about risk?  How dare you tell me about politics?  You were in short pants, Josh, when I started my political career.  You think you can tell me how it works?"

"I can tell you you'll never make it to the White House drunk," Josh fired back.  "I can tell you the Governor will never make it to the White House if you fall back into this-- this--"  He shrugged.

"I'm not drunk," Leo said again, this time with no conviction.  He stood there, one hand splayed against the wall of the elevator, the other dangling limply by his side, and stared down at the floor.

Josh waited until the older man met his gaze.  "Leo..."

Leo staggered a little, his sweaty hand squealing as it slid against the mirrored wall, wide eyes turned towards Josh.  "God, Josh..."

Josh nodded, unable to find the words.

Leo looked down, one shaking hand lifting to his chest.  "God, what did I do?"

Josh could think of nothing to say.  So he said, "We can fix it."

Leo turned away, releasing the stop button.  The elevator lurched back into motion, and the two men stood silently until the doors opened.  Leo walked out into the hallway, his movements slow and deliberate, and Josh started to follow.

"Leo, wait.  You need--"

"I need to see the Governor," Leo answered quietly.  "This is my job.  I need to do it."

Josh watched him carefully.  "You can't do the job when you're drunk, Leo, and you know it."

Leo was unable to meet Josh's eyes for longer than a few moments at a time.  "The job needs doing."

"I'll do it."

"Josh--"

"I'll take care of it, Leo."

Leo hesitated, then acquiesced with a small sigh.  "I need to lie down."

"Yeah."  Josh looked away, finding the wall suddenly fascinating.  "Do you need..."  He swallowed hard.  "Is there any alcohol in there?"

Leo didn't answer for a long moment.  "No."  Josh glanced over warily and met Leo's harrowed gaze.  "I'm not lying, Josh.  There's nothing left."

Josh forced himself to say it.  "There's no minibar?"

Leo's jaw clenched.  "Don't worry about it."

"Leo, I'm not--"

"I drank it already."

Stunned, Josh merely nodded.

"I need to lay down," Leo repeated.  He sighed, swiped a hand over his face, and took a couple of steps towards his hotel room.  "Can you..."

Josh looked up.  "Yeah?"

"Can you send Margaret up?" Leo asked quietly.

"Sure."

"And..." Leo took a deep breath.  "Tell the Governor."

Already shaking his head, Josh said, "Leo, no.  There's no reason--"

"Tell the Governor."

Josh couldn't hold Leo's gaze for long, not with that look of raw desperation on the older man's face.  "Yeah," he said.

Leo turned away and slid the key card home.  The electronic beep sounded loud in the deserted hallway.  Leo popped the door open, then paused without turning back.  "Thanks."

By the time Josh found his voice, Leo'd disappeared into the room.

***

Governor Bartlet sat in the large bed, pouting.  He felt fine.  He really did.  He'd been dizzy, sure, and worried about an attack.  But now that he'd had a chance to just sit down for a bit, he was fine.  Dandy.  Fine and dandy and ready to go learn the podium.

Tonight was important, and he'd be damned if he'd sit here and let Abbey coddle him like some--

"Don't bother, Jed," Abbey told him as she checked his blood pressure.  "It's not going to work."

He frowned.  "I need to get back down there to--"

"You need to stay here to rest, Jed," she interrupted, releasing the tight cuff.

Bartlet winced, rubbing at his arm.  "I'm fine.  I was dizzy, Abbey."

She didn't answer, instead rising abruptly from the bed.  "Jed, we need to tell--"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head.  "No."

"Jed--"

"I can't," he insisted, twisting the bedspread with his fingers.  "You know I can't."

"You keep telling me you can't, but I still don't agree."  Abbey pulled a nearby chair a little closer to the bed and settled in, her hands folded neatly on her lap.  "I'm not suggesting you go out there tonight and make some sort of public announcement, I'm merely saying--"

"No," Bartlet said again, his jaw tightening.  "It's personal, Abbey.  It's not time yet."

"When is it going to be time?" she demanded, her body tensing as she leaned forward.  "When, Jed?  Election Day?  At the Inauguration?  Your first State of the Union?"

He shivered a little at the very thought.  "You're really convinced I'm going to win, aren't you?" he asked, a little bit awed.

Abbey rolled her eyes, but answered, "Of course you're going to win, Jed.  You've never lost an election in your life."

He nodded slowly.  "I've never been in an election this close before, either," he pointed out.  "It could go either way."

She held his gaze and shook her head.  "You're wrong.  You're going to win."

The bedspread felt strange beneath his fingers.  Or maybe it was just him.  "This is surreal," he mumbled.

"Jed--"

"Seriously, Abbey," he said, looking up at her.  "If this comes out now, it's the story.  No one will care why I want to be the president, or why I'm running, or--"

A sharp knock at the door interrupted him.  He blew out a frustrated breath and made to get up.

"I'll get it," Abbey told him, touching his shoulder briefly as she moved past.  She paused before opening the door.  "I'm just saying if they knew, if Leo knew, he would know what to do.  I think it would be better for everyone concerned."

The Governor sighed.  "Abbey--"

She waved a dismissive hand in the air.  "Yeah."  Abbey pulled the door open to reveal Josh Lyman, in all of his fidgety glory.  "Josh," she greeted, gesturing for him to enter.  "Did you come to go over the answers with my husband again?"

Josh blinked, then stepped inside.  "No," he said.  "No.  I just--"  Josh turned his attention to the man in the bed.  "How are you, Governor?"

"Fine," he answered, with a half-grin at his wife.  "Except that my wife seems to think sitting on this bed as opposed to, say, on a chair of some kind is the cure for what ails me."

Josh nodded a bit.  "What does ail you?"

It was hard, but Bartlet managed not to glance at Abbey.  "A cold, I think."

"Okay," Josh answered.  "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes."

"And you think it's a cold?" Josh asked, directing the question to Abbey, who nodded.  "Okay," Josh said, more to himself than anyone.  "Okay.  We're going to get a doctor in here to look at you."

Abbey quirked an eyebrow.  "You see why I objected to 'Mrs. Bartlet'?"

With a small, unconvincing laugh, Josh turned to Abbey.  "No offense meant to your medical skills, ma'am.  We just -- In case someone saw the Governor when he -- Just in case."

Abbey nodded sagely.  "You want an unbiased opinion before you put my husband on TV tonight."

"Right."  Josh looked a bit lost standing there.  He glanced back over at the Governor.  "Right.  I'm gonna--"

"Is there something else, Josh?"

"No."  He answered just a bit too quickly.

"Are you sure?  You seem a little twitchy," the Governor observed.

"It's nothing," Josh said, forcing a smile.  "I'm still a little worried about--" he faltered for a second-- "about the Social Security answer."

The Governor didn't believe him, but he nodded anyway.  "Talk to Toby."

"Yeah." Josh hitched his thumb in the direction of the door.  "I'll go find him."

"Oh, Josh?" Bartlet called.  "Have you heard from Leo?"

Josh stopped with one hand on the doorknob, but didn't turn around.  "Yeah.  He's -- Yeah, I did."

Frowning, the Governor asked, "Any luck with the CEOs?"

"I think so, yeah," Josh said.  "I need to go talk to him, actually, so I'll -- I'll ask."

Bartlet glanced over and met Abbey's concerned gaze.  "Good," he answered belatedly.  He had a bad feeling it was anything but good.  Instead of questioning Josh further, he let him leave then slumped back a bit into the pillows.  He was so damn tired.  Too tired for this.  "Abbey..."

"Don't worry about it, Jed," she said as she moved to his side.  "Why don't you rest for a while and I'll find out what's going on, okay?"

"I don't need to rest," he insisted one more time for good measure.  Maybe he'd just close his eyes for a bit.  Just for a minute.

"I know," Abbey answered, stroking his arm.  Her voice was low and soothing.  "I know.  Just rest here for me, okay?"

"Yeah," he said, hating that he sounded so damn tired.

Because, really, he felt fine.

***

Margaret woke him an hour before the debate, like he'd instructed.  Unfortunately for Leo, five hours were not enough to sleep off the feeling that he'd been plowed over by an enormous truck.

When he forced himself upright, his extremities were numb, his back was stiff, and his head was stuck halfway between dead drunk and the hangover from hell.

Wordlessly, Margaret held out her hand.  In her palm lay three extra strength Advils and one vitamin pill.  He accepted the offering and swallowed them with large gulps from the glass of cool, crisp water she handed him.  Then he closed his eyes and tried to rub away the headache.  The physical effects weren't the worst of it, though.  The absolute worst was the knowledge that he'd slipped.  In one hour, he'd fallen back to the bottom of the damn hole he'd clawed himself out of years ago.

He didn't know if he had the strength to do it again.

"Leo," Margaret said quietly.

"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled in return.

"I'm not suggesting you do," she answered.  Leo opened his eyes and found not judgment and disappointment, but compassion and worry on her face.  She gave him a small, encouraging smile.  "The Governor needs you."

Leo gave himself a mental shake.  How could he have forgotten?  "How is he?"

"He's fine.  The doctor said he's got an inner ear infection, but nothing serious.  He was just a little dizzy earlier."

"I know the feeling," Leo muttered.  "What'd Abbey say?"

"Same thing."  Margaret watched him closely.  "Josh has been up here no less than seven times, and--"

"Did he tell the Governor?"

Margaret blinked.  "I don't know.  Probably not, since the Governor hasn't been by."

"I told him to tell the Governor," Leo sighed.  "That kid never listens."

"He always listens, Leo.  And he told me to tell you that he got the job done, but not nearly as well as you would have."

Chastened, Leo dropped his gaze.  "Okay," he said, more to himself than to Margaret.  He needed to get himself under control.  He needed to drop the self-pity and ignore the weakness in his limbs and just get it the hell together.  He glanced over at the clock and winced.  "I'm gonna--"

"Your suit's on the hook behind the door," Margaret told him, folding her hands in her lap.  "I'll wait."

Leo considered protesting, considered telling Margaret that the last thing he needed right now was a mother hen, that he could handle it himself.

Only he wasn't entirely sure he could.  He was still shaky, and more than a little tipsy, and the thing he wanted most in the world right now was a drink.

And so he rose painfully, limped into the bathroom, and spent enough time under the shower's hot spray to feel vaguely human again.  Then he brushed his teeth three times, and when he finished tying his tie, he looked normal.

But he could still feel the alcohol singing in his veins, could still taste the sweet burn.  He still wanted more.  Frustrated, Leo stormed out of the bathroom.

Margaret stood and met him halfway, brushing some imaginary lint from his shoulder.  "Here," she said quietly, handing him a leather folder.

Leo opened it, and on the notepad inside, his sponsor's various phone numbers, and information on five local AA meetings were written in Margaret's neat script.  The numbers blurred, and Leo blinked back sudden tears.  He stared down at the paper, swallowed hard, then met Margaret's gaze.  "You're a good girl, Margaret."

She ducked her head, hiding her embarrassed smile behind a curtain of red hair.  "You're going to be late."

Nodding, Leo started for the door.  Margaret shadowed him silently, understanding that sometimes her presence was enough comfort.  Leo spent the elevator ride calming his nerves, and when he walked out into the hallway, the unsteadiness in his body was masked by his familiar, purposeful stride.

Josh popped out of the staging area so quickly that Leo suspected Margaret had called him in advance.  The younger man's eyes were worried, and his hair stood on end, no doubt the result of his nervous fidgeting.

"Leo," Josh greeted him.

"I'm here," Leo answered.  He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but Josh's obvious relief was something of a surprise.

The two men stood awkwardly in the hall, not quite looking at each other.  Margaret melted away, leaving them alone in limbo.

Something shifted, Leo realized, the moment Josh was forced to take care of his drunken ass.  When Josh started on the campaign, he was a virtual stranger to Leo, the smart, sarcastic son of an old friend.  Somewhere along the line, though, this brash young man had become Leo's friend.

Leo wondered how he'd missed it.

"Josh," Leo said with sudden confidence . "I'd like you to be my deputy."

Josh's head jerked up and he stared at Leo with wide, hurt eyes.  "I'm not going to say anything, Leo."

Leo frowned, confused.  "What?"

"About..."  Josh looked uncomfortable.  He made a vague gesture in Leo's direction.  "Before.  You don't have to buy my silence."

"I'm not," Leo answered sharply.

Josh seemed honestly confused.  "You're not?"

Leo crossed his arms.  "Do you really think I would waste such an important position on someone I didn't trust, Josh?"

Josh chewed on that for a minute.  "I guess not."  He shifted his weight and dropped his gaze.  "Then why--"

"Because I trust you," Leo answered without hesitation.  "Because you're the guy for the job."

When Josh looked up again, his face was flushed.  "I am?"

It was hard, but Leo managed not to look away.  "You proved that today, Josh.  You did the job."

Josh nodded a little.  "Are you--"  He gave a frustrated half-shrug.  "Are you okay?"

The corner of Leo's mouth quirked upwards.  "I will be."

"Okay," Josh answered uncertainly.

Leo started toward the staging area, then stopped and looked back at Josh.  "You didn't answer my question."

The grin on Josh's face was answer enough, but he replied anyway, "I thought it was more of an order than a request."

Leo smiled, and for a second, he felt normal.  "Good answer."  He tilted his head towards the back room.  "Is the Governor here?"  So much for feeling normal.  That twisted dread was back full force.  Because now he had to tell Jed what happened.

"Yeah.  Listen, Leo--"

"It's okay, Josh.  It should be me anyway."  Leo pushed through the curtains and spotted Sam and Toby in the midst of some sort of debate near the door marked "Bartlet."  He made his way over.

Toby spotted him and gave him a relieved look.  "Tell Sam the Governor cannot wear makeup."

Leo's brow furrowed.  "The Governor wants to wear makeup?  Why?"

"He doesn't want to, actually," Sam answered.  "But it's TV, and the klieg lights just wash people out.  The Governor's more pale than normal, and--"

"I heard that," shouted a familiar voice.  The door opened, and the Governor stuck his head out.  "I am not pale."  He caught sight of Leo and paused for a moment.  "Leo.  Come inside."

He knows, Leo thought.  "Yeah."  Leo took a breath and stepped past Sam and Toby, who went back to debating liquid base versus some sort of face powder.  Their argument faded to a dull roar once the door closed.  Leo glanced around the room and saw Abbey seated in the corner with CJ.

Bartlet looked over at his wife, who nodded almost imperceptibly and stood.  "CJ, I'm still deciding between the flag pin and the cat Jed gave me."

With a quick nod to Leo, CJ followed Abbey out of the room to haggle over what kind of impression animal jewelry made on the voting public.  Or so Leo assumed.

He raised an eyebrow.  "You gave Abbey a cat pin?"

"It's not as tacky as it sounds," Bartlet answered with a small grin.  "There are diamonds."

Leo shuddered a little.  "That sounds... interesting."

"Snob," remarked the Governor.

"Whatever."  Leo found the muted TV in the corner suddenly engrossing.  "You ready for this?"

"I'm fine, Leo," the Governor answered, and from his tone, Leo could tell this wasn't the first time he'd been subjected to the question.  "I'm ready."  There was a moment's pause.  "Are you?"

Leo sighed.  "What'd Josh tell you?"

"Nothing," Bartlet answered, and Leo nearly flinched under his close scrutiny.  "But then he didn't really have to."

Stung, Leo shot back, "Because you've been waiting for this day?  Because you knew I'd fall back in the hole?  Well, thanks for the confidence--"

"Leo," the Governor interrupted.  And when he used that tone, only Abbey was brave enough to ignore it.  "Josh didn't have to say anything because he cares about you a great deal.  And he's a horrible liar," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Leo dipped his head in acknowledgment.  "Don't tell him that.  It would crush his ego."

"You know, I really don't think that's possible."

"Fair point."

The Governor settled into a chair and gestured for Leo to do the same.  "What happened, Leo?  Why now?"

"I don't know," Leo admitted, grateful for the brief rest for his tired body.  "Because it was there.  Because I'm an alcoholic."

"What happens now?"

Leo grimaced.  That was the question of the hour.  "Now you go on TV and win this debate."

"Leo."

"I'm fine."

The Governor gave him an incredulous look.  "You're not fine, Leo.  You fell off--"

"I know.  Believe me, I know."  Leo stood and paced a little.  "As soon as we're done, I'm going to a meeting."

"You could go now."

"I have this job to do," Leo insisted.

"I don't give a damn about the job," the Governor shot back.  "Anything you need--"

"Jed," Leo interrupted.  "Do you trust me?"

"Of course," he answered without hesitation.

Leo leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.  "I mean it.  Think about what happened today and decide.  Josh is ready.  He can do the job."

"So can you," the Governor answered stubbornly.

"When I'm sober, yes, I can."  Leo stopped and met his friend's gaze.  "I'm not sober right now."

"You will be."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Leo nodded slowly.  "Okay," he said.  "Look, I'm going to do thirty meetings in thirty days.  I want you to hold off--"

"Leo--"

"I want you to make sure," Leo continued.  He looked down at his hands, still shaking a little, still craving the smooth, cool curve of a lowball. "I need to make sure."

The Governor agreed reluctantly.  "I am sure, Leo, but I understand.  Anything you need."

"Thank you, sir."  Leo was halfway to the door before he turned back.  "Look -- I don't want to tell people--"

"Of course, Leo.  Your secret's safe with me."

"It's not a secret," Leo protested.  "It's just -- It's personal."  Bartlet flinched a little, and Leo rushed to explain.  "I'm not asking you to lie.  If someone asks--"

"Yeah."  Nodding, the Governor pushed himself up from the chair and held Leo's gaze.  "If someone asks," he affirmed.

"It's just not the right time. Toby, Sam, CJ -- they've got too much on their respective plates as is."

The Governor glanced away.  "I know."

Leo had the distinct feeling that his old friend was disappointed with him, but he couldn't quite pinpoint why.  He headed for the door again.

Bartlet's voice stopped him.  "Leo, I want you to know--"

A sharp knock at the door interrupted, and Leo sighed, pulling it open.  CJ stood in the hallway.  "I just wanted--"  She frowned.  "Are you okay, Leo?"

"I'm fine," he answered.  "Ten minutes?"

"Yeah," CJ nodded, her gaze slipping past him to settle on the Governor.  "Are you ready, sir?"

"Yes," Bartlet answered, straightening his tie as he reached Leo's side.  "We're ready."

Leo looked over at the Governor, then at CJ.  Behind her stood Sam, Toby, and Josh, and he could see Margaret's fiery hair farther back.  They were going to win this fight, Leo decided, and so was he.

"Yeah," Leo said, nodding to Josh before he turned to the Governor.  "We're ready."

THE END

12.17.01