"CJ, you should talk to him," said Toby.

"Me? Why me?"

"He'll see you as sympathetic - he'll open up to you."

CJ fixed him with a look that would make a basilisk flinch. "You mean because I'm a *woman* he'll find me sympathetic. Does the word stereotyping mean anything to you? Why don't *you* do it?" She stood up to lean over the table to grab another slice of pizza. " On second thoughts, no, you shouldn't do it - you'll just end up yelling, throwing that rubber ball around, and making the situation worse. What about Leo? Leo, you know you can do all that gravitas thing. He'll take notice of you."

"I'm not falling for *that*, CJ. Anyway, it'll be like the big bad boss giving him an order, which I'm not gonna do. He's got to want to do it himself, not because I'm telling him to. Sam, you'll do it."

I shifted in my seat. I'd had a feeling this would happen. I had recently made the observation that now that Josh was fit enough to see as many visitors as he wished, Charlie always seemed to have some excuse for not visiting. The President needed him, he had to be somewhere with his sister Deana, he had to hand in an assignment at college. This went on until the excuses became so thin as to be transparent. Since Charlie and Josh had always been so close, ever since the day Josh had recruited him as the President's assistant, we had all assumed he would be one of the first people to go see him. His puzzling behavior continued, and what was more worrying, particularly to me, was the fact that Josh was becoming seriously agitated by his friend's apparent refusal to see him. One of the effects of his trauma was that he had become hyper-sensitive to even the smallest nuances in the reactions and behaviors of those around him. He was therefore starting to imagine all sorts of reasons for Charlie's absence.

The upshot was that here we were gathered in the Mural Room late at night, eating pizza, generally unwinding from what had been a particularly fraught day, and the discussion turned to what we should do about "the Charlie situation", as we'd taken to calling it. The one thing we all agreed on was that someone needed to speak to Charlie to find out just what was going on, and to persuade him to go visit Josh. What we couldn't agree on was who should do it. That is, until Leo issued his edict, and everyone's eyes swivelled towards me. I picked up a paper napkin, wiping my hands as I walked over to the waste paper bin.

"I can't make any promises that he'll talk to me," I said, as I crumpled up the napkin and threw it away. I was glad I had my back to the room so they couldn't see the effect Leo's statement had on me. After all, whilst Josh was confined to the hospital, we had put our personal relationship on hold. We had yet to make the physical and emotional reconnection that later happened on Josh's first trip out from the rehabilitation hospital. I got myself a cup of coffee and sat down.

"I think he's more likely to talk to you than any of us," said Leo, "if only because you're Josh's closest friend."

Christ, I thought, you don't know what you're saying. I shrugged.

"Maybe," I reluctantly concurred.

"So you'll do it?" asked Leo.

"Yes, Leo, I'll do it," I answered wearily. "But I can't make any promises."

"Look, if there's anything else any of us can do..." said CJ.

"It's okay. You're all off the hook. I've said I'll do it." I regretted the shortness of my tone as soon as I'd said it. "Thanks, CJ, but I think it'll probably be better if just one of us broaches the subject. I'll speak to him tomorrow."

EVENING 27 JULY 2000

So the next evening at seven o'clock I stopped in the doorway of the President's outer office. The West Wing was quiet and I'd already cleared it with Leo that Charlie could be spared for a half hour or so.

"Hey, Charlie, I need to speak to you. Come to my office will you?"

He looked at me questioningly. "What's up, Sam?"

"Just something I want to run past you. I thought we could do it over a couple of beers." I was trying to keep things as understated as possible. I didn't want to make too big a deal of it. "Come on," I said, gesturing toward the hallway with a move of my head, "you could probably do with a break."

"Okaaay," he said, drawing out the word in a thoughtful sort of way. Was it my imagination, or did he sound a little suspicious? Whatever, he followed me down the hallway and into my office.

"Sit down, I'll get you that beer."

Once we were seated, each with a bottle in hand, I looked at Charlie and gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. He took a swig of his beer.

"What's on your mind, Sam, because I don't think you've got me here for us to drink beer and shoot the breeze about sport or women," he said.

I placed the bottle I was holding on my desk and leaned back in my chair. I figured the best way to approach this was directly - if I tried a more subtle approach he'd obviously think I was underestimating his intelligence.

"Listen," I stood up, moving around to take the other spare chair in the room so the desk didn't form a barrier between us," I'm going to ask you a direct question. I would appreciate a direct answer. Why won't you visit Josh?"

"You know why - I've been busy. My job, college work, Deana." He came out with the same old tired excuses. He looked away and took a drink. I let a few seconds go by. I didn't want to interrogate him, but it was the only way I could see to get an honest reply.

"Right, I'm going to ask you again, and I'll keep on asking until you give me an answer, because I can tell you I'm not convinced that what you've just told me is the whole truth of the matter. Why won't you visit Josh?"

Charlie raised his eyes from scrutinising the label on the bottle. What I saw made me hate myself for what I was doing. I'm an attorney, I've worked for one of the biggest corporate law firms in Manhattan, I'm accustomed to asking the hard questions. But that didn't entail looking into another person's eyes and seeing the tortured expression I was seeing now.

"Come on, Charlie. It's me you're talking to. We both want to do what's best for Josh, and I can tell you that you not going to see him isn't doing him any good at all. He misses his friend."

"Just tell him...I can't. I can't face him."

"But you're going to *have* to face him sooner or later. You know we're working on the assumption that he'll eventually be well enough to come back to work. The doctors are very positive. What is it you can't face? Is it because he can't walk now?" I said this with an effort because I still found it difficult to actually say the words. Not so long ago I would have broken down. I pressed on. "Look, if you've never really known anyone who has a disability, it can be difficult knowing what to say, what to do. But I'm sure there's someone you can talk to about it, someone with more professional expertise. And Josh is amazing - he won't let you feel uncomfortable."

"It's none of those things," Charlie said explosively. "It's because I'm embarrassed and guilty ... because it's all my fault he's lying in the hospital." The words came rushing out, almost like a physical onslaught. " If I hadn't been at Rosslyn, if I hadn't been dating Zoey, if I hadn't come to work here, Josh would still be walking around, doing his job, and just ... just ... being Josh."

Considering his age, Charlie was one of the most mature people I'd ever known. He'd had to grow up fast when his mother was killed and he took responsibility for caring for his younger sister. He also held down a job working in one of the most demanding environments - and for one of the most demanding of people - in the world. But as he stopped talking and covered his face with his hands, trying not to cry, he looked incredibly young. I reached out and put my hand on his arm.

"You're *not* responsible. We all know who's responsible. You didn't do anything - it was the guys with the guns, those amoral, racist monsters." Charlie took his hands from his face and quickly wiped his eyes. He kept his head bent. "Charlie, look at me - Josh knows who's to blame. He won't blame you. It was an atrocity carried out by criminals."

He began talking again, as if now he'd begun, he was eager to let all the torment, all the pain, out.

"How can I see Josh when I know I was the intended target, but I came out of it all unscathed? How can I look him in the eye?"

"Charlie, we all feel that to a degree - how lucky we were not to get shot, how it makes us feel guilty. And don't say you came out of it unscathed - none of us did, whether the scars are physical or mental."

"But if go to see Josh, it'll just remind him. Seeing me will just make it worse."

"No, Charlie," I said, searching for the words that would convince him. "You just said that you wished Josh were here being Josh. Well, that's exactly what he still is. Have you ever known Josh to be vindictive, to bear a grudge?"

"Only to some Republicans," said Charlie with the ghost of a smile.

"Yeah, well, that's politics and they probably deserved it. No, what I mean is, on a personal level. Loyalty to his friends is so important to Josh. It's making him miserable you not seeing him - he knows something is wrong. Talk to him about it, and he'll show *you* that loyalty. Please, Charlie. Do it for me ... but mostly, do it for Josh."

I stopped there because I realized I was getting a little too close to showing Charlie how much *I* was hurting because Josh was hurting. I had to keep up the pretence of simply being the best friend acting as go-between.

Charlie sighed and shook his head.

"Will you at least think about what I've said?" I asked.

He raised his eyes. As he looked towards the window, the light from outside was reflected in them. It gave his gaze a far off quality as if he was searching for the answer that he knew I wanted to hear.

"Will you come with me?" he eventually asked.

"Of course. Tomorrow, about four o'clock? Josh usually has his physical therapy until about three thirty. I'll make sure we can both get away."

Charlie drank the rest of his beer and stood up.

"Are you all right?" I asked. "I'm sorry if I was a little hard on you. Do you need to take some time before you go back to work?"

"No - I'd rather go back now. I'm glad we've talked, but ... "

"What?"

"I'm still scared about seeing Josh."

"If you get worried beforehand come and talk to me, okay? I know how you feel."

He opened the door and turned to face me.

"No, you don't, Sam. With the best will in the world, you don't."

I had no response to that, so I was left sitting there with a vacant look on my face. I *thought* I knew how he felt, but I didn't. I was trying to make him feel better by letting him know how hard it had been for me. But I couldn't imagine his feelings any more than he could mine. You idiot, Seaborn, you stupid, patronizing idiot. Well there's one thing, Charlie, I thought, I'll bet Josh won't be as crass.

I left my office to tell Leo about the outcome of my conversation with Charlie. I just hoped I'd done the right thing.

AFTERNOON 28 JULY 2000

I was glad to see that my tactlessness hadn't deterred Charlie from keeping his promise. At four o' clock sharp the following day he presented himself at my office. We walked outside, where the July heat hit us like a solid wall. My car was baking hot as we got inside, so I turned the air conditioning on full blast. As we drove through DC the sun bounced off buildings, making me squint. I leaned towards the glove compartment and started groping around for my sunglasses.

"Here, let me," said Charlie. "Which pair do you want?"

"Huh?" I said at first, not understanding. I took my eyes off the road for a moment and looked at the two pairs of sunglasses Charlie held in his hand - one pair belonging to me, the other belonging to Josh. The shock of seeing something as simple as a pair of sunglasses stabbed me somewhere in the pit of my stomach. Josh must have left them there the last time he'd travelled in my car.

"Sam - which ones do you want?" He had a slightly nonplussed look on his face caused, no doubt, by my indecision.

I briefly took my hand off the steering wheel and for some reason picked up Josh's pair. I fumbled a little as I unfolded them and put them on one handed. Why did I put those ones on? As a way of feeling closer to Josh? Wanting to wear something that had been in contact with Josh? What did it matter as long as it gave me a connection with him.

"Thanks, Charlie." I flexed my fingers around the steering wheel. "Do you want to talk?" I decided to ask him directly rather than make aimless chit-chat.

"If it's all the same to you, I need some time to think."

"Sure. We'll be there in about twenty minutes."

It was actually closer to thirty minutes when I turned my car into the hospital grounds. I parked and we walked in silence into the building. The lobby was busy with medical staff and patients alike. As we went to the elevator I glanced at Charlie and noticed that he avoided looking at anyone who had an obvious disability. Maybe he didn't want to feel like a voyeur. Then again, it could be that he was feeling uncomfortable with the whole experience.

"We go this way, " I said, indicating left as we stepped out onto Josh's floor.

"Will you go and see Josh first? I'll wait here." Charlie stopped at the corridor which led to Josh's room.

"You're not getting cold feet?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light-hearted.

"No - I just want you to make sure he really wants to see me. I've got only your word for it."

"Charlie, you've got to trust me on this." I was starting to get exasperated.

"Please, Sam," he said, looking at me pleadingly.

"Okay."

I walked down the corridor and pushed open the door to Josh's room, which wasn't as soullessly clinical as the one at GW had been. There was a TV of course, and Donna had arranged for a DVD player to be installed as well. Books, newspapers and magazines were there in abundance, while Josh's mother had added a more personal touch by bringing in some framed photographs of the Lyman family. A vase of flowers stood on the window sill - the First Lady had sent a new display each week of Josh's stay in the hospital. I saw he was lying on the bed rather than in it, propped up on a pile of carefully arranged pillows. He held that day's copy of the Washington Post, which he wasn't reading. Instead, he was staring at the television, which was tuned to a banal daytime soap opera. Josh's face wore an expression of extreme boredom.

"Josh."

He turned his head towards me. I was pleased to see a fleeting look of pleasure on his face. But, as usual, just in case I wasn't alone, it was quickly replaced by a carefully bland expression, friendly but not affectionate.

"Hey." He picked up the remote control and turned off the TV.

I walked over to stand by the bed. His wheelchair stood at the other side, with a discarded tee shirt and shorts draped over it. Josh was now wearing the pyjamas CJ had bought him. She'd gotten him the wrong size, so they were too big. They made him look absurdly young and in need of protection. My heart contracted as I wished I could lie next to him, fold my arms around him and hold him close. I imagined the smell of him, the way his skin would feel against my lips as I kissed him, especially that soft, sensitive place just above his collarbone.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You look so ... I want ... " Without thinking I laid my hand on the bed and started sliding it towards him.

"Sam, stop it, not here," he hissed, looking anxiously towards the door, which I had left open. "And can you sit down, you're getting on my nerves hovering over me," he said irritably. I surmised the emotional and sexual deprivation was getting to him as well, but that was the inevitable result of the tacit agreement we had entered into since Josh was hospitalized. No talking about our feelings, no touching.

Josh's outburst suddenly reminded me of the objective of my visit. "Josh, I've brought Charlie to see you."

He smiled. A proper smile, one that reached his eyes. I hadn't seen too many of those recently.

"Well, where is he? Why didn't he come in with you?"

"Look, you need to understand that this is really difficult for him. There are all sorts of reasons why he hasn't been to see you - he might want to talk about them. Are you up to it?"

Josh pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"This afternoon I've just gone five rounds with a physical therapist called Gill who specializes in hurting unsuspecting males. Man, after that I can take *anything*."

"Josh, you know I don't mean whether you can take it physically."

"I know what you mean. I'll be all right, don't worry. I'd like to bet this is worse for Charlie than for me."

"Well, he asked me to check that you want to see him. He's got it into his head that you might not want to."

"Sam, go get him ... *now*!" Josh said vehemently.

I stepped out into the corridor and beckoned to Charlie. As he walked towards me, I gestured for him to go into the room.

"Don't leave," he whispered.

I stood in the doorway. Josh held out his hand.

"Charlie ... "

Charlie walked over to him. As he grasped Josh's hand I heard him give a stifled sob. Josh reached out with his other arm, managing to pull Charlie towards him in a hug. Looking over Charlie's shoulder he jerked his head at me, indicating that he wanted me to leave them alone. I backed out, shutting the door behind me. I stood there, debating what to do to kill time until I judged it was safe to return to Josh's room. I had brought some work with me in case this situation arose, however my brief dialogue with Josh had left me feeling somewhat dispirited. At this point work was the last thing I could concentrate on, so I made my way to the hospital coffee shop, figuring that some caffeine and a little breathing space would help.

It was crowded when I walked in. Medical staff and patients alike were eating and drinking there. I took my coffee and searched the room for an empty table, so that I could be on my own. I spotted one near the window and managed to move quickly enough to snag it for myself. I sat down, sliding my briefcase under the table and placing my feet on either side of it to keep it secure. I looked moodily at the cup in front of me. I'd chosen a cappuccino, which I hadn't drunk for years. I normally take my coffee black, but had decided I wanted the caffeine equivalent of comfort food. I lifted up my spoon, dragging it across the foam and capturing some of the chocolate sprinkled on the top. The creamy bubbles melted on my tongue - soft, warm, ephemeral. A bit like the way my relationship with Josh has turned out, I thought fancifully. I drank some of the coffee, wincing slightly as I swallowed a too-big mouthful of the scalding liquid. But it tasted good - well, good for a hospital facility. I started to unwind a little. Until, that is, I started to check I had my pager in my jacket pocket, and my fingers touched the sunglasses I had worn in the car.

I had forgotten I'd put them there when I walked into the hospital with Charlie. I pulled them out of my pocket, turning them over in my hands, stroking the smooth ... what? Plastic? Acrylic? Some synthetic material, I supposed. Josh's sunglasses. Josh's sunglasses that he had worn, that had touched his skin. That was the nearest I could get to him in a physical sense. I thought of Charlie taking Josh's hand, Josh putting his arm around Charlie. Guiltily I realized I was feeling resentful of the fact that Charlie could get that near to *my* lover, *my* guy. And not just resentful. It was ridiculous - I was jealous. I leaned my elbow on the table, rubbing my forehead, as if to ease some of the negative thoughts from my head. I drank my coffee slowly, then to kill more time I bought myself another. Much more caffeine today and I'd be bouncing of the ceiling.

Making an effort to shake off my mood of introspection, I idly looked at the scene in front of me. At the next table a man sat with his arm around the shoulder of a woman who was using a wheelchair. Her condition was more severe than Josh's, as she seemed to have restricted movement in her arms. I could see how much effort it entailed for her just to eat a sandwich and drink a Coke.

"Come on, sweetheart, it doesn't matter how long it takes. We've got all day," I heard him say.

"That's easy for you to say, but I'm hungry!" It sounded like she hadn't lost her sense of humor.

I knew it was bad manners, but I couldn't help but watch them. The care he showed her was obvious. I'd been doing a lot of reading on the Internet about the effect that disability could have on personal relationships, not always for the better. Some didn't survive. But these two people looked like they had something good going on between them. I wished there could be a time when Josh and I could come down here and let everyone see the true nature of *our* relationship.

I suddenly realized the woman was smiling at me.

"Hi," she said.

I felt myself blush slightly as it became clear she had seen me looking at her.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to stare. I'm a little distracted today."

"Are you visiting someone?" she asked. She wasn't intrusive, more concerned.

"Yes ... just taking a break."

"I know - it becomes a bit of a strain after a while, doesn't it?" Her husband joined in the conversation. "Especially when you have to fit visiting in with work." I guessed my business clothes were a giveaway. "It would be great if I could visit Sally whenever I wanted. Still, we manage, don't we?"

"Yeah - we have our moments." she said, laughing. "Sometimes, though, I think it's a good thing we have some time apart. How long has your ... "

I realised she was unsure just who it was that I was visiting.

"Oh - my friend. He was transferred here a week ago."

"Must still feel a little strange, huh?" Sally asked. "I found the first couple of weeks difficult. You come out of a trauma unit where you felt safe, and sometimes you even convinced yourself that everything is just the same as it's ever been. Then you come to a place like this and bam - reality bites. You start to realise what you're dealing with."

I was impressed by her candour. "You sound like you're doing okay now," I said.

"Yes ... yes, I am. It gets better you know. It will - for both of you."

I finished my coffee and stood up to leave.

"I'll tell my friend what you said. I hope everything goes well for you."

"Thanks. And good luck," she said.

As I walked out the door I turned to look back at the couple. Sally raised her arm slightly. I waved back and walked out into the hospital lobby.

I looked at my watch, deciding to give Josh and Charlie another half hour or so together. I took my briefcase outside, found a bench and settled down to do some work. I pulled out a speech I'd been working on that the President was to give to the American Bar Association. Toby had been through it with a fine tooth comb, so it was now covered in his numerous annotations. Since I first began working for Toby, I'd become fluent in Toby's own particular brand of shorthand. For the next half hour I read his comments, some of which I agreed with, some I decided to debate with him. I made a note of these points on a legal pad, which kept me so fully occupied that I was surprised to see how quickly the time had gone. Time to go get Charlie. We couldn't take any more advantage of Leo's goodwill in giving us time off.

I walked quickly back into the hospital, deciding to take the stairs up to Josh's floor rather than the elevator. As I went into his room I heard laughter.

"Sam ... Sam ... You didn't tell me that you'd been asked to look at the legality of Jedi Knights being officially recognised as a religion if people entered that as their faith on the census form."

"I would have told you that," I said feebly. I knew what was coming next.

"Yeah, and would you have told me that CJ then sent out a memo saying that a group had been set up to get voting rights for the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy?" Josh was obviously enjoying himself.

"I *knew* that was a joke, okay?" I protested. The Jedi Knight issue *had* been genuine, but CJ hadn't been able to let it go.

"Yeah, right, Sam, whatever," said Josh, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Charlie. But I didn't care how much he mocked me - Josh was laughing, he was really, really laughing, and if me being the butt of the joke caused that, I didn't give a fuck.

"Well, I hate to break up the party, but Toby's probably yelling for me, and the President is *undoubtedly* unable to function without you there, Charlie," I said.

Charlie stood up and turned to Josh.

"It's been great seeing you, Josh. I'll come back again soon if that's all right?"

"You'd better. Don't forget, I want more stories about Sam and the rest of them. It's better than the Marx Brothers." Josh took Charlie's hand and shook it firmly. "Would you mind of I asked Sam to stay back for a couple of minutes?"

"No problem - I'll meet you in the lobby, Sam. See you later, Josh."

And with that he was gone. I walked to the bottom of the bed, not wanting to be too close to the wildly attractive man who lay there. I can resist everything except temptation, as one of my favourite playwrights once said. I waited to hear what Josh had to say.

"Good job, Sam," he said, borrowing the phrase the President uses when he's particularly pleased with his staff.

"I didn't do much," I replied.

"Oh, but you did. You found out what troubled Charlie. You persuaded him to come here. You gave him the confidence to really talk to me. And you've made me very happy. Charlie and I were miserable for similar reasons - he was feeling guilty for me being here, and I was feeling guilty because I suspected he was hurting because I was in here." He stopped, frowning slightly. "Did you follow that?"

"I think so, but maybe you could draw me a flowchart and go over it again tomorrow just so I'm clear," I said.

We were both smiling at one another at this point. For the first time in ages I felt we were really connecting, really engaging with one another.

"Maybe some day soon I can show you just how grateful I am." Josh lowered his voice so that it took on an almost sensual tone. But it wasn't just the thought of the possible physical pleasure to come that gladdened my heart, but the fact that Josh was thinking about the future. No matter how vague the proposition, he was focusing on something positive.

"I can't wait," I said softly, always mindful we were in a public place. "Just tell me where, and when - I'll be there."

"You should go now," he said.

As I began to leave the room, he spoke again.

"Sam."

I turned round. I was standing in such a position that my body blocked anyone being able to see into the room. Josh obviously knew this, because he raised his hand to his lips, kissed it, turned it palm outwards towards me, mouthing, "I love you." The first time in two months he had said it.

I repeated the gesture, mouthing, "Me too." Thereafter, whenever we could while Josh was in hospital, we repeated this small gesture as a symbol of what we couldn't demonstrate more tangibly. But that first time was so meaningful. As I left the hospital that day the sun seemed to shine properly for the first time in months.

MORNING 20 NOVEMBER 2000

"Sam ... Sam. Earth calling Sam."

I realised with a start that Leo was waving a hand in front of my face. I pulled myself back to the present.

"Are you okay? You want to go get a drink of water or something?" Leo glared at me in an exasperated way, whilst Josh and Charlie sniggered at my discomfort.

"No, I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"Well, I hope you don't get to thinking like that when you're driving or something - you'll be positively dangerous," Leo said. "Anyway, what I came out to say was Charlie - the President needs you right now."

Charlie took his cue, pushed open the door and disappeared into the Oval Office. I caught a quick glimpse of the opulent room, where the President was sitting behind his desk, evidently engrossed in the contents of a file. Leo sat down in the chair that Charlie had vacated.

"You're ready for this?" he asked.

"God, Leo, we just want to get it over with." For the first time that morning Josh's voice betrayed some of the tension I now realised he was feeling. "How is he today?"

"Oh, you know ... " Leo lifted a hand from the desk then let it fall. "He had a good trip to Europe. I think we made headway with some of the apparatchiks from the European Union on trade tariffs. London was good, we got the PM on board with the proposals for the Middle East. And he's brought back enough trivia on the British parliamentary system to fill the Library of Congress."

"He's not going to test us on it, is he?" I asked.

"What do you think?" chuckled Leo.

"Leo, when I asked how he is, I meant how is he about this meeting?"

"Josh, you know what he's like. There are times when he plays his cards close to his chest. He hasn't told me anything - I don't know what he's going to say or how he's going to play it. And I'm not going to tell *you* how to play it, either. Now, I have a meeting with the Foreign Affairs sub-committee. When your meeting's over, I want you to go to my ffice and take a few minutes to draw breath. What I *don't* want is for you to rush out there and face people - whatever the outcome - without taking some time to gather your thoughts. I know how impetuous you can be Josh." Josh opened his mouth to protest, as Leo continued," Yes, I do, and I don't want you to do anything hasty. So you'll do as I ask." He walked over to the door to his own office. "And good luck."

The door shut behind him. I moved over to stand alongside Josh but a little in front of him, my hands down by my side. Suddenly I felt the lightest of touches as Josh gently stroked my palm. I curled my hand around his fingers. I looked at him, put my other hand to my lips, and we completed the ritual that had become our custom for the last four months. The minutes dragged by ... one ... two ... three ... as we waited. Then the door opened and Charlie stood in front of us. I don't know if he saw that our hands still touched.

"The President will see you now," he said.

I let go of Josh's hand, and we moved forward to meet with the President.

MORNING 20 NOVEMBER 2000

"Sam, Josh - did you know that in the debating chamber of the House of Commons, members may not smoke, but *can* take snuff and the Doorkeeper keeps a snuffbox for this purpose?" President Bartlet stood behind his desk, beckoning us into the Oval Office.

"No, sir," we said in unison.

"And did you know that Members of Parliament may not have their hands in their pockets while in the chamber? Or that swords may not be worn, but that all MPs have a loop of ribbon in the coatroom for their weapons?"

"That's very interesting, sir," said Josh.

The President was really hitting his stride now. "But the best is that members mustn't die on the premises. Do you know why?"

The President quizzing us like this was *way* too normal. Josh and I just shook our heads dumbly, knowing that he would tell us anyway.

"Because the Palace of Westminster is a royal palace where commoners may not die," he said triumphantly. "What do you think of that?"

"Well, I've watched some of those debates on cable, and sometimes it's difficult to tell whether they've died or they're just asleep," said Josh.

"Remind me to give the Prime Minister the opportunity to debate this with you next time he visits - I'm sure he'll value your opinion," the President said with a slight smile as he bent down to put the finishing touches to a document. He handed it to Charlie.

"Thanks, Charlie, you can go now."

He waited until his assistant had exited, then came around his desk and gestured towards the sofa.

"Let's make ourselves comfortable," he said, taking the armchair opposite. I waited until he sat down, then placed myself at one end of the sofa, with Josh positioning his wheelchair at the other end. We created a significant physical space between us, as if we didn't want to presume too much about appearing as a couple. Both of us knew it wasn't appropriate to speak first, so we waited expectantly for the President to speak. He smiled in a friendly sort of way. That seemed like a good start, I thought.

"It's good to see you back, Josh. Leo's explained how we're going to ease you back into work, and I know we can rely on Sam to support you." He paused, which added a double meaning to his words. I stole a sideways glance at Josh, but he kept looking straight ahead at the President.

"Thank you, sir. I'm looking forward to getting back into the thick of things," Josh said.

"Good." Another pause. "Now, I believe you two have another matter to discuss." The President leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows to give one of us permission to initiate the conversation. I didn't know how to begin - there was so much I wanted to say. For the past two days I had tried out various ways of broaching the subject, the best phrases to use. I even ended up composing a couple of speeches in my mind. But none of it satisfied me. If I couldn't get the words right, I'd rather not say anything at all. Josh had no such reservations. As is often the case, he just launched right into the heart of the matter.

"Mr. President, I know Leo has told you the way things stand. I don't know exactly *how* he's explained our relationship, but this is how it is. Sam and I love each other; we have for two years now. To be blunt, it's more than platonic. I guess in my case I've loved him for longer than that. So you can see it took us quite a few years to do anything about it. We haven't rushed into anything - in fact, it took a lot of soul searching before either of us made a first move. Even then, we hesitated, knowing what a vulnerable position we were in - what a vulnerable position we were putting *you* in. But me getting shot, being affected permanently - well, it just seemed that by keeping it a secret we were depriving ourselves. Life's fragile - you've got to take a chance. And we didn't want to continue being dishonest to our friends and colleagues, to ourselves - and to you, sir. Don't misunderstand me - it's been the ultimate privilege to work for you as a candidate and as the President of the United States. I've given my life to it. But in the final analysis - if I have to choose - it'll be Sam."

I looked at Josh. I was reeling from his honesty, from the rawness of his emotion. He turned his head, and right there, in front of the President, he gave me a smile so loving that it would leave no-one in any doubt as to his feelings. The President was watching us intently, and somewhere a clock ticked. I turned to face him.

"Sir, I'm sitting here with the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. I'm willing to make any concessions, any compromises, give up anything to make him happy. But with respect, we need to know what you think - we need to know what we can and can't do. We know that might mean we don't work for you or for this administration. If that's the case, so be it. There are some things we *can't* compromise on."

These were none of the words I'd rehearsed. I figured that this is where Josh and I go for broke. The President contemplated us for a second or two before responding.

"You know, when you both came to work for the campaign, I remember saying to Leo, 'They're so young'. I trusted him, that he was bringing the right people into the fight, but even so ... Then I got to know you - I even managed to remember your names after a little while." We all smiled at the memory of the then-Governor constantly asking 'What's this one called?'

The President continued with his reminiscing. "And I got to recognize your passion, Josh. Your willingness to *always* give an opinion. Hell, I never knew anyone who *had* so many opinions about everything. I remember the strategies that you formulated. And Sam - always so idealistic, writing speeches that could bring a whole room to its feet." I felt myself flushing slightly at the unexpected words of praise. "Over these years, you've all become more than a team. In many ways we're more like a family. And like all families, there are going to be secrets. And I find myself asking, 'Why didn't they feel able to tell me about this? Am I *so* intimidating?'" The expression on his face was sad rather than angry.

"We knew you wouldn't disapprove of gay relationships per se. This is the most liberal administration for years ..." I was interrupted by the President.

"Sam, I'm not talking about the values that the press and much of the general public ascribe to me as a politician. Give me a real answer."

"Then can I be really honest, sir?" I asked.

He nodded. I drew a deep breath.

"Suppose Josh had come to you and said 'Mr. President, Donna and I are in love and we want to be married.' What would your reaction have been? You'd have thought 'Don't they make a lovely couple, I'll give them my blessing, and of course they can both work in the White House, but maybe not as boss and assistant. Am I right?"

The President just gave me a noncommittal stare, so I pressed on.

But suppose I had come to you and said 'Mr. President, Josh and I are lovers, we want to remain lovers and we want to keep our jobs.' I would hazard a guess you wouldn't have had the same reaction. And on a personal level I would have hated the idea that a same sex relationship had a different value to a more conventional one, but professionally and politically I would have accepted it. Because that's what we did - we accepted the political reality that we couldn't come out as two openly gay senior staff members involved with one another. There was so much we wanted to achieve working for you - there is *still* so much to achieve - so we kept it a secret. But people change, the world changes, and circumstances change. Things happen that shake you up, and you make decisions that once seemed impossible. That's why we're sitting here having a conversation you would never have dreamt of two weeks ago."

I finally ran out of steam. Jesus, I thought, why don't you just fire me now. Josh was just sitting there with his mouth slightly open in a dazed sort of way. I suddenly realized that my fist was clenched, and I dimly remembered banging the arm of the sofa with it as I talked. I unclenched it, and folded my hands across my lap, hoping I looked calmer than I felt.

"So it's taken a tragedy to make you re-evaluate what's important to you both?" the President asked.

"With respect, sir, I'd rather you didn't call my getting shot a tragedy. I'm still having days when I go into "Why me?" mode, so I try to avoid words like that." Josh spoke quietly and unemotionally. He'd once said to me that this wasn't the movies, where Hollywood-style life-changing experiences make the principal character "become a better person". He didn't accept his disability uncomplainingly, but by the same token he was working hard not to be bitter about it.

"Point taken," the President replied. "But if you'll allow it, from where I'm sitting, you've both been to hell and back, and it *has* made you reprioritize. Do you agree?"

We both nodded, guessing that we were approaching the crux of the matter.

"Well, I take it you want to know what I think?" he asked. "I've already said we're more like a family. I want the members of that family to be happy, personally and professionally. I can see you're committed to one another." He suddenly sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, hands clenched beneath his chin. "That pleases me. But what touches me is your commitment to your jobs and to me - that must have exacted a price. The administration can't afford to lose two such talented people. Or such loyalty." He paused, and as he did so, Josh and I both began talking at once.

"Mr. President ... "

"Sir, I don't know what to say ... "

The relief was immense. The President raised a hand.

"Wait. What I *don't* want is for this to be a distraction or a gift to our enemies. I'm still a politician, and that's the way I'm going to talk to you now. I won't pretend it wasn't a shock when Leo told me your news. I don't know how you kept it quiet for so long, although I do know one member of the staff figured it out." We all smiled at that. "Sometimes I'd swear CJ has powers verging on the paranormal," he continued. His face became serious again. "Here's what I propose - this is the deal. No big announcement, but no sneaking around either. Would I be correct in assuming that neither of you want to be used in any way by the administration to show our stance on gay rights?"

"Absolutely," said Josh, "the same way that I don't want to be automatically associated with the disability rights lobby - I just want to do my job."

"Okay. It's going to be tough enough for you as it is. This is what I want you to do - tell the key members of your staff and any other personnel you feel it's important should know. There's no question of keeping the situation secret, but we don't want it to be the subject of salacious gossip. Let it emerge naturally - you're two members of the staff who happen to be an item - that *is* the latest turn of phrase, isn't it?"

"Well, it's been around maybe ten years." Josh couldn't resist poking fun at the President, a sure sign that he was feeling confident.

"Hm. We all know that some people won't view it as you two just being a couple. In an ideal world, they would, but we're not in an ideal world. But at least we can work towards the ideal, and set some sort of an example."

I felt that ache you get behind your eyes when you're about to cry. God, please don't let me break down, I thought. I fought back the urge to turn towards Josh - if he looked anything like I felt I would totally fall apart. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears.

"So no press announcements or releases," the President went on. "But if the question's asked, we'll answer it honestly. I know how loyal you both are to me, as well as to your friends and colleagues. In return you'll get our total support."

I couldn't find my voice, as if I'd used up all the words I had at my disposal. I was thinking Josh, please say something, because I can't. Please let this man know what a fine thing he's done. I should have known better - Josh can pick up on my thoughts in an uncanny way.

"Thank you, sir. Giving us the opportunity to be together and continue to serve at your pleasure ... well, it's ... overwhelming. We won't let you down."

The President stood, which was my cue to stand up. He came over and shook hands with us.

"Thank you, Mr. President," I said, deciding to keep it simple. Josh had been eloquent enough for both of us.

"Go into Leo's office and give yourselves some breathing space. But not for too long - like you said, there's still a lot to do. And Josh - come back soon, there are a lot of people who need stirring up on the Hill. Now go."

He moved back behind his desk. As we made our way out of the door, he spoke again.

"By the way - the First Lady sends her congratulations."