Sam hazarded a look across the desk at Leo, wondering what exactly the other man was thinking. 'Holy Hell' had been the only thing he'd muttered in the past minute. Sam had expected cursing and some admonishment. He found the silence all the more disturbing by the fact that neither of those had come to pass.

When Leo did speak he was soft and to the point, "How is she?"

"They don't know right now."

"And he's still at the hospital?" Leo asked.

Sam nodded, "I was going to go back over there later."

"Okay," moving to the door for Margaret's office, Leo flung the door open and began yelling before he registered that his assistant was standing right in front of him. "Margaret-!!"

"What?"

"How do you do that?"

"I've developed a sixth sense for these things."

"Well work on it, see if we can get it so I don't even have to talk at all."

"What did you need?"

"Find CJ, Toby and Josh for me, would you."

"Now?"

"Yes, now would be good."

He watched Margaret hurry out of the office then turned to Sam. "You stay here. I need to go tell him."

Leo put on his suit jacket before crossing the office. Without so much as a look back at Sam, he strode into the Oval Office.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President," he said, crossing to the armchair where Jed sat.

"Leo!" Jed looked up from his reading, waving the folder at the other man. "Have you seen this?"

"Sir?"

"It's some information Sam gave me on the Rare Diseases Act."

"I'm sorry, Mr. President, he shouldn't have-"

Jed waved the end of the comment away. "Of course he should've. This is the kind of legislation we *should* have a hand in."

Leo opened his mouth to protest but again Jed cut him off. "And don't give me that crap about picking our battles and making enemies. What's the point of doing this if we can't fight the good ones? I want this done."

"I'll have Sam look into it," Leo said to appease him.

"I'm serious Leo."

"I know."

"Good, now what did you need?" Jed gestured for Leo to sit.

"I have to talk to you about Deena."

"Charlie's sister Deena?" Jed asked, confused. "He said she was just under the weather."

"It's a little more serious than a cold."

Jed removed his glasses, eyes suddenly intent, filled with concern. "What's wrong?"

"She's in the hospital," Leo sighed with the weight of the disclosure.

"What happened?" Jed tired to process the information.

"She has a genetic condition, sickle cell, she had an attack or a crisis or whatever they call them Sunday night."

"She's been in a hospital since Sunday?"

"No, she was in a clinic that specializes in treating sickle cell patients. This afternoon she deteriorated and was moved to George Washington." Leo hated the way his voice sounded so clinical, so distant. He'd learned, though, that it was often the best way to get through times like these.

"So he lied?" Jed asked softly, not wanting to believe that Charlie had kept something so big from him.

"He didn't lie, no one ever thought to ask."

"He should have told me." Jed couldn't stop his voice from rising with anger.

"Maybe," Leo shrugged. "But he didn't."

"I could have done something."

"You realize how absurd this conversation sounds, don't you?" Leo's lips turned up just a little in the corners as he recalled a terribly similar conversation from a year ago.

"This is not the same thing!" Jumping to his feet Jed began pacing, running his hand through his hair.

"No, it's not," Leo acquiesced. "But it's his family and his decision."

"Yeah. I'm not really buying that either."

"I've got them waiting," Leo gestured with his head towards his office door. "I think we should-"

"Okay," Jed cut him off curtly.

Jed turned to look out the window, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists as they hung by his sides. He was hurt that Charlie didn't trust him enough to let him into that part of his life. As he listened to the staff file in though, his outrage slowly turned into more of a parental concern. Quietly he turned and took a seat behind his desk, watching his Senior Staff get seated.

"Where's Toby?" Leo asked, looking at Sam.

"Margaret said he was finishing a call he'll be right-"

"I'm sorry, I got tied up with this thing," Toby apologized as he entered the room. Seeing the somber look on three of the faces, he quickly quieted.

"-here," Sam finished.

"So I take it you haven't told them yet?" Leo asked.

"He hasn't told us anything, we've been sitting in there for the past five minutes trying to pry it out of him," CJ spoke up, playfully annoyed at having to wait.

"Is it about the party?" Josh asked. "Cause I haven't been able to get anything out of Donna. The woman's like a..." he trailed off, suddenly noticing the pained look Sam was giving Leo.

Leo stared hard at Sam, raising his eyebrows in question, until finally Sam took the hint.

Not knowing exactly where to start, Sam just jumped right in, "Deena's in the hospital in the ICU right now. Charlie is with her. She has sickle cell disease."

They all sat in silence until Toby found his voice, "I'm sorry...I don't...what is it?"

"Sickle cell?"

"Yeah."

"It's a malformation of the red blood cells."

"What kind of malformation?" Josh asked.

"Normally the red blood cells are round and flat, like donuts without the hole," Sam explained, recalling the explanations Charlie had used. "So they slide by each other, making the blood flow smooth."

He waited until he got nods from most of the room and then continued. "But when they sickle, they bend." Sam held out his hands and crooking the index fingers, locked them together. "They get caught on one another and stick. It creates this mass of cells that can block off the smallest veins. It causes a tremendous amount of pain. Sometimes it can lead to organ damage."

"So, I'm sorry," CJ spoke up. "I'm confused, is this the same as sickle cell anemia?"

"Yes and no. Deena has a form of sickle cell disease but not sickle cell anemia. She has what's known as hemoglobin SC disease."

"What's the difference?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure. As far as I can tell she doesn't get the extremely low blood iron of anemia, plus the sickle attacks are usually not as severe or as frequent."

"So she has the good kind of sickle cell?" Josh offered.

"Essentially, not that you can really call it that. It's kind of the lesser of two evils."

"Like the difference between relapsing, remitting and secondary progressive?" The President asked, suddenly joining the conversation. He smiled mirthlessly at their stunned expressions. "Oh, come on. You all were thinking it," he chided, not unkindly.

"Anything else?" Leo looked at Sam.

"That's pretty much it in a nutshell."

"Can I ask..." CJ interrupted quickly. "The assistants don't know, do they? We should tell them. They've got this whole party planned. And, well, because they should know."

"The party's for Deena?" asked Josh, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"No, you doof, it's for Charlie," CJ scolded, turning her body towards him on the couch.

"I think it's fine to tell them," Sam offered, looking at Leo and the President.

"But do it tomorrow," the President ordered. "I don't want him over run at the hospital tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"Good, now what's next?"

"I think we're done," Leo offered.

The four staffers took their cue and chorused a round of good nights as they filed out. Watching them leave Jed absently picked up the file on his desk. Looking down, he was quickly struck by an idea.

"Sam, Josh," he called to the retreating staffers. "Hang on a minute would you. Talk to me about H.R. 1379."

Tuesday Evening

Josh walked past the ICU entrance, shivering slightly at the familiar sounds and smells. Almost two years and it still had this affect on him. Some days he was sure he'd never get over it. Most days, though, he took comfort in the fact that the smell of burning wood no longer sent his mind reeling. All it had taken was time.

Stepping into the waiting room, he spotted Charlie almost immediately. The young man was reclined, his back to the door, watching what looked like CNN. Josh tried to shuffle his feet a little, not wanting to sneak up on him.

"Hey, Josh," Charlie said, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?"

Charlie gestured to the section of couch next to him. Flipping the channel to ESPN, he turned to Josh, puzzled. "Where's Sam?"

"He was still doing a couple things when I left, then he was going over to your place. He should be around soon."

Both men stared up at the TV, letting the silence fall between them.

"Hey, you hungry?" Josh asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Nah. CJ and Toby were by earlier, they brought food."

"Good," Josh paused not wanting to pry, but needing to know how Deena was. "So...how is she?"

Charlie didn't look away from the television, though his eyes weren't really focused on anything. "She's okay...better anyway. They started the transfusions early enough that there shouldn't be any lasting effects. They'll take her off the ventilator in the morning, see how it goes from there."

Josh nodded, his throat feeling scratchy and raw just from the memory of what it had been like when he'd started breathing on his own again. Needing to fill the silence that suddenly felt oppressive he nodded to the TV set where the sportscasters were recapping the seeding for the women's NCAA championship. "You follow this?" he asked Charlie.

"Yeah, a little," the young man shrugged.

Josh thought it odd that Charlie would follow the women's tournament until the answer dawned on him. "Deena makes you watch, huh?"

"Yeah," Charlie nodded his head, chuckling mostly to himself. He remembered just last week a discussion that he and Deena had had about men's vs. women's and college vs. professional. Mostly he remembered how Deena had wound up sitting on his chest, remote in hand, making him watch the North Carolina game.

"She's good," Josh spoke up again. "And I'm not just saying that, you know, I mean not just because you're my friend," he stumbled over the ineloquent attempt at conversation. "Anyway, I'm just saying."

Charlie, despite himself, flushed with pride. "She's great," he replied softly.

He'd realized how good she was the first time he'd really watched her play, sometime after his mom died. Despite the illness, or maybe because of it, she always played a smart game, reserved but never afraid to go to extremes. She had an almost innate sense about the game. He could honestly say she was a natural. What's more, she loved basketball. He knew she did. Couldn't get enough. She was always staying late to practice or finding someone in the neighborhood to play a pick up game. Sometimes he was jealous. He was a passable basketball player himself, not great but definitely good. Mostly he was jealous of how easy she made it look.

Basketball was a talent she'd definitely gotten from their mother. Sometimes, after her shift, his mom would take them over to the courts. She'd let them play for hours, trying to teach a little here and there. While he'd been busy trying to look cool, going for a style he was sure he couldn't learn from his mom, Deena had soaked it all up, every instruction taken to heart. In this way, and so many others, she was so like his mom. Sometimes he thought maybe that was why he loved her so much, why he was overly protective. Maybe that's why he couldn't risk losing her, even if it meant making her give up what she loved.

He's not sure how it happened but he found himself trying to explain all this to Josh, and failing, miserably. "I guess it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, you know, if you don't have a brother or sister."

Josh just stared at the young man for a minute, trying to come to a decision. He'd shied away from talking about Joanie because he didn't want to bring death into the equation; it was too close at hand as it was. Also, it wasn't something anyone but Sam and Leo knew about. He wasn't sure he was comfortable with anyone else knowing. Looking at Charlie's slumped form, the pleading in his eyes, though, Josh decided that maybe what Charlie needed most was to hear he wasn't alone.

"For Joanie and me, it was music," Josh said softly, staring at the paneling to the left of the television screen. He didn't turn to look at Charlie, but he could feel the younger man's confusion. Sighing, he began again, "My mom, she taught piano. Nothing major, just, you know, neighborhood kids. She tried to teach us, too. I couldn't at all. I mean I can sight read and play the notes but I just don't have the knack to really *play*. But my sister, Joanie, took to it like breathing. God, she was great."

"I didn't...I mean I didn't know you have a sister."

"I don't. She died when we were still pretty young."

"How?" Charlie asked, before he realized. "I'm sorry...it's none of my business."

"There was a house fire," Josh shrugged. "She ran back in to get her notebook, the one she composed in. The smoke overwhelmed her, she never came out."

Josh fell silent, almost forgetting where he was, that he was talking to someone. Charlie didn't know what to say. Didn't have words to describe his condolences for Josh's loss or his own fears for Deena. Several minutes passed before Josh seemed to be ready to talk again.

"It's not the same thing, you know. I mean I was trying to make a point...I think." Josh sputtered, aware that he wasn't making a whole lot of sense. Taking a deep breath he tried again, "Sometimes I think that if she'd never learned to play piano or been so great at it, she wouldn't have died. Kind of a stupid thought, I know." Josh smirked, trying to relieve the tension a little before continuing. "I mean she wouldn't have been her without it. And if it wasn't the music it could have just as well been something else."

"I'm not following..."

"God, I'm really no good at this analogy thing...what I'm trying to say is: you can stop Deena from playing basketball if you want, but that doesn't mean you can control her health. You're acting as though you have to choose between her present and her future, right here and right now."

Josh had turned to face Charlie, giving himself a clear view of the door as well. He saw Sam coming down the hall before he heard him. Glancing surreptitiously at Charlie, Josh held up his hand behind the young man so he couldn't see. Catching Sam's eyes moments before he stepped into the room, Josh silently asked him to stop. Sam obeyed, grasping the situation immediately and pulled himself to the wall, away from the doorframe.

"It would be nice if it were that cut and dried, but it's not. Let me just say this, somewhere there's a middle ground, it's just going to take both of you to find it," Josh finished quietly, while motioning Sam to come in finally.

"Hey, Charlie, Josh," Sam said as cheerfully as he could, feeling an overwhelming need to break the somber mood.

Charlie sat silent for a moment, considering what Josh had just told him. He thought, maybe somewhere in the jumbled mess there was something that made sense; he was just too tired to find it at the moment. Shaking his head, as if clearing cobwebs, he acknowledged the other man, "Hey, Sam."

Sam came around the front of the couch, setting the bag he carried in front of Charlie, "I think I got everything."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Charlie said, absently scrounging around in the bag.

"So," Sam settled into one of the chairs. "How is she?"

Wednesday Morning

"Sam!" Toby called as he passed his deputy's office.

"What's up?" Grabbing his notes, Sam followed Toby into his office.

"It's Wednesday."

"Yeah," Sam answered, not making the connection.

"Sam," the older man growled, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"The...Oh, the NIH speech."

"Is it done?"

"Yes. Although not really."

"How not really?" Toby sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Mostly done. We just have to wait to see what happens in the Senate in the next couple days."

"The RDA?"

"Yeah. We're talking to Terry this morning." Sam glanced at his watch, silently cursing, "Actually we're talking to him right now, so..."

"Yeah, go."

Sam smiled at Toby and headed off toward the Roosevelt Room.

Opening the door quietly he slipped into the room, and took a seat at the table already occupied by Josh and Senator Terry.

"Sam," Terry acknowledged him cordially.

"Senator. I'm sorry I'm late, have I missed anything?"

Josh jumped in before Terry could answer. "Not much. I was just telling the Senator how The President would like the bill out of committee and up for the vote by Friday morning."

"I can hold the bill in committee as long as I want, Josh," the Senator answered, shaking his head.

"Yeah, but if you do you're still not going to get NORD or White House support, plus you're going to come out as the bad guy on this," Sam explained.

"They love me in my district, I ran unopposed in the last three elections. You can't threaten me."

"Oh, it's not really you we're after," Josh leaned forward, stretching a little across the table. "CJ Cregg will make sure every reporter in her press room gets a list of the CEO's and companies that were in on this. We'll raise an uproar like you've never seen. We'll set the Drug companies' agendas back by ten years. More than that, your guys won't have a friend left in this administration. The next time the Orphan Drug Act comes around with the shortened exclusivity clause the President will be there with bells on. So I think you guys should think long and hard about what this is worth to you. It's a good bill. It has nothing to do with you guys. Let it out of committee, let the Senate pass it and you guys keep the door open with us. Don't and ...well that would just be stupid."

"You're bluffing," Terry smirked.

"I'm really not."

"You're weak, you can't afford to make an enemy out of the pharmaceutical industry. You *need* me," Terry hedged, no longer sure of his footing.

"If you believe that then go ahead and hold the RDA up," Josh shrugged. "But if you do that, we won't just come after the companies. You're up for reelection, too. It's true; we'd like to have the Patient's Bill of Rights by November. But we can wait until the next Congress, where your constituents will have replaced you with a young, talented Democrat of our choosing."

"Okay, but even if I ship it out of committee today doesn't mean it's going to come to a vote anytime soon," Terry argued.

"Actually, I had a chat with the Majority Leader last evening," Sam explained. "He's very fond of this bill for some reason. He assured me that it will go to a vote as soon as it's placed on General Orders."

Sam watched as Terry began to grasp the situation and the precarious position that he was now in.

"So, you see Senator, the ball is in your court."

Terry sat watching the two men for several minutes, weighing their words. Finally he stood and offered his hand. "I'll take it to the majority leader tomorrow."

"That's all we're asking, Senator," Sam smiled, gripping the hand firmly.

Friday Afternoon

Jed looked down at the package on his desk, thinking again how much he wished he could be at the party later. Perhaps it was for the best, though. It was hard to let loose, after all, with Secret Service Agents swarming everywhere.

He called out for Charlie, waiting for the body man to appear.

"Yes, sir."

"Charlie, come here," Jed motioned to the desk. "Today's your birthday?"

"Actually tomorrow is."

"I thought it was today."

"No sir. I'm pretty sure it's tomorrow."

"Well, fine. Either way you're getting your present today." Jed pushed the package across the desk toward the young man.

"Thank you sir, should I open it now?"

"Yes. And don't thank me yet. Now, if you don't like it it's going to be important for you to remember it wasn't my idea. If, on the other hand, you love it..."

"Whose idea was it?" Charlie asked, staring at the package.

"Well it came as a bit of inspiration from my youngest daughter. You remember her don't you? About this tall, goes by the name Zoey."

"Yes, sir," Charlie blushed, looking down trying to construct an explanation. "I've...we've-"

"You know what? It's none of my business. You guys are smart, you'll work it out." Jed thought he could see Charlie sigh in relief and smiled to himself. "But now on to more important things...open it."

Charlie gently fingered the gold mesh ribbon that wound around the cream colored wrapping paper. He could feel the President's eyes on him, almost like he was analyzing each move made. It was disconcerting to be on the receiving end of that gaze. So often he'd smirked when others squirmed under it, now that he was the one sweating though, he had a new appreciation for discomfort of it all. Sliding his hands under the flap of paper he removed the tape, careful to not tear the delicate paper.

"Jesus Charlie, it's not a national treasure! It's a birthday present...rip into it!"

Smiling, Charlie did just that; ripping the paper across the front, he laid bare the picture beneath it. Removing the rest of the paper he just stared at the gift. The parchment was dominated by the Oak tree visage, so large that it had been made to spill off the edges. The small pictures are what drew his attention though. Two small black and white photographs were tucked into the bottom corner of the frame, not even behind the glass. Both appeared to be taken at a formal event, inauguration, he guessed. One showed the first family in all their finery, the other showed the Senior Staff and assistants, sans ties and jackets.

"It's important for a man to know who his family is. The one he's given and the one he chooses."

Charlie opened his mouth to reply but no words would come. Closing it against the sob that threatened, he stared down at the parchment. With a shaking finger he traced the names of each generation while looking into faces he saw everyday.

"Go home Charlie," the President's voice was so soft it took a moment for it to register.

"I...uh..." Charlie stopped to clear his throat, still unsure of his voice. "You have the speech tonight."

"I know. It's not a big thing. Besides Leo and Toby will be there." Jed motioned to the door. "So go. Pick up your sister and take her home."

"Yes, sir." Charlie gripped the edges of the frame hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he turned to leave.

"And Charlie? Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

-----

"Did you talk to Dr. Richards?" Deena asked, her voice a little edgy with anticipation. Thankfully there was no sign of the dry, raspy quality it from just a couple days ago.

After they'd taken her off the ventilator she had recovered quickly. Even the doctors were a little surprised at her progress. Initially they'd wanted to keep her over the weekend, but Deena had been so insistent and just so *healthy* that Dr. Richards agreed to let her go home early.

"Yeah," he said softly, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Well, I take it that's a no then," her face fell at the realization.

"Dee, I'm sorry," he offered. Sitting down next to her on the bed he draped an arm around her shoulder. "He said that you're not a good candidate for hydroxyurea."

"Why?" her voice was too close to tears for him to bear.

"Because of your age, for one. Because it hasn't been shown to be effective in SC patients."

"But there's not anything else," she pleaded.

"I know."

"Do I...are you going to let me play anymore?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Deena raised her head enough to look her brother in the face, absently wiping an errant tear off her cheek. It surprised him, how young she looked. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she really was still just a kid.

"You have to be more careful, and we have to set up some ground rules, but you can still play."

"Cool," she said, nonchalantly, trying to pretend it didn't matter so much. Charlie knew it did though, and was happy to be able to give her at least one thing to hold on to.

"So you ready to blow this joint?"

"Uh...Yeah!" Deena jumped off the bed, practically knocking Charlie over in the process.

"Well let's go, we've got to swing by the White House. Sam still has my key."

Picking up her small bag, Deena threaded her arm through the bend of Charlie's elbow and let him lead her to the car.

-----

Looking back he should have realized that a dark Communications' bullpen at six in the afternoon should have been a dead give away. But he'd missed it and was genuinely surprised when the room had erupted in light and color and screams of "surprise" and "happy birthday".

Once the screaming had stopped, he'd been overrun by well wishers. Donna and Margaret came first, which was appropriate as he was pretty sure the party was mostly their doing. Donna threw her arms around him, whispering birthday wishes in his ear. Margaret just grasped his hand firmly, before pecking him on the cheek, then hurried off to find some tissue for her eyes.

It went on like that for what seemed to be hours, until Charlie was literally exhausted from standing and smiling. Taking advantage of a lull, he slipped over to the refreshments table for a second helping of cake. Lifting his head sharply at the sound of Deena's voice, he found her across the room with Josh. The two of them stood in a corner throwing out words he couldn't hear and hand gestures he could only guess at. He couldn't quite tell if they were fervently agreeing or adamantly disagreeing. When he met Josh's eyes, taking in the smile on his friend's face he figured it probably didn't matter which it was, they seemed happy just to enjoy the company.

Taking his cake with him, Charlie headed to Sam's office. He slipped in, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. If he remembered correctly, the President's speech was supposed to be televised. Grabbing the remote from Sam's desk he quickly flipped through the channels till he found coverage of the conference.

Perching himself on the desk, he dug into the piece of cake. A couple minutes into the speech, he found himself staring intently at the screen, the cake all but forgotten beside him. Suddenly he couldn't pull himself away. He was so engrossed that he didn't even hear the door open.

"Hey, we were wondering where you went," Sam chided, good-naturedly. When Charlie didn't respond, Sam pushed some files aside and planted himself on the desk, next to the young man. Sam was content just to watch with Charlie, he had been wondering how the speech was going as well.

"He's talking about the RDA," Charlie said suddenly, pointing to the screen. "I thought it was stuck."

"It got unstuck," Sam shrugged.

"It passed?"

"Overwhelmingly."

"That's...how?"

"Funnily enough, we took a good piece of advice and pretty much shoved it down the committee's throat."

Charlie smiled broadly, pleased to think that he had something to do with it in some small way. Fifty million wasn't a lot maybe, in the grand scheme of pharmaceuticals, but it could be the windfall researchers needed. It would pay for initial research and clinical trials and that meant more chances that drugs would be developed, treatments instituted, cures found. Maybe someday, he hoped, older brothers wouldn't have to outlive their younger sisters.

He didn't notice exactly when the tears began to form, but as he looked across the room at Deena, surrounded by the Senior Assistants, the scene became blurry.

Following the young man's gaze across the room, Sam laid his hand lightly on Charlie's shoulder. Squeezing, he spoke softly, "Happy birthday Charlie."

~END~