Sam was walking past the receiving hall when he stopped. The hall was filled with small children, which made Sam double-take. The children appeared to be five or six, though Sam was not very familiar with kids. They were herded by C.J., the P.R. people, and some harried adults Sam didn't know. The White House Press Core ringed the group. Sam walked in, going to C.J.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"The kindergarten class of Ulysses S. Grant Elementary made the President a flag," C.J. said, pulling a small child away from some vases. "P.R. wants him to meet the kids, so here we are. Kelly, do NOT pull Tom's hair! For Heaven's sake!" She ran to some blond kids. Sam looked around at the children. Most of them were buzzing around, yapping to each other. Except for one.

There was a little girl who caught Sam's eye. She was standing by herself, holding a tan teddy bear. The girl was surveying the room like Sam, sort of lost. She saw Sam looking at her and pulled the bear closer. Her eyes, a dark brown color, seemed afraid of him. That…was…unusual. Something wasn't right.

"Hey, Sam!" one of the P.R. people called. "Whatcha doing?"

"Just seeing the sights. Mind if I-"

"Go ahead." Sam cautiously walked to the little girl with the bear. She didn't run away or give any other distress signals that would have sent Sam away. She just stared at him suspiciously with those big brown eyes.

"Hi," Sam said softly. "Are you busy?"

"No," she replied. Her voice was very quiet; Sam could barely hear over the other children.

"That's good. What's your name? I'm Sam."

"Cerulean." The blonde girl C.J. had yelled at sidled over, looking mischievous.

"You don't want to talk to her," she said. "She doesn't talk. She's too good for us." With that, little Kelly bounced away. Cerulean flushed.

"I do talk," she said, sounding on the edge of tears. "I don't want to talk to them. They won't listen. Nobody listens."

"They can't listen if you don't say anything," Sam said. Cerulean looked up at him. "I mean, if you have something important to say, you need to say it. Your voice is a very powerful thing. You have to use it." Cerulean stared at him for a few minutes. Then she smiled.

"You're really nice," she said. "Fred likes you."

"Who?"

"The Bear," Cerulean clarified, rocking on her feet. Sam smiled at her little happy face, with the brown braids swinging.

"He's a handsome bear."

"All right, everyone!" C.J.'s voice suddenly filled the room. Cerulean jumped. "The President is almost here! Let's all come together!" Cerulean waved at Sam as she went to the other children. Sam walked to the edge of the hall, waiting. After a few minutes of scrambling, the children were sorted by height. Cerulean was near the front. Wow, she really was small.

The Secret Service came first. They cleared the way for the President, followed shortly thereafter by Leo. Sam suddenly remembered he was supposed to be working. Oops…

"Hello, Everyone!" Bartlet said cheerfully.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President!" the children replied.

"Oh, that wasn't loud enough! I can't hear you!" Leo, ignoring the President with the children, went to Sam.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. The children loudly greeted the President.

"Just thought I'd stop by. Do you want me to go?" Sam asked.

"Nah, you can stay. I was curious, is all."

"Okay, everyone, you get one question!" C.J. said. Predictably, all the children raised their hands. President Bartlet picked several children with the usual questions about the White House.

"You there, with the braids and the bear!" he said. "What's your name?"

"Cerulean, sir!" All the teachers sighed, as if to say Oh, brother. Sam wondered if that Kelly had been parroting teachers. It annoyed him.

"That's a pretty name! All right, what's your question?"

"Mr. President, do you put all the bad people in jail?" Cerulean asked. The teachers were stunned, and Bartlet paused a moment.

"That's one smart kid," Leo muttered. Sam nodded.

"Well, Cerulean, I try to put 'bad people' in jail when I can, but first I need proof that they've done something wrong," Bartlet said. "Unfortunately, I'm not all-knowing. People do have to tell me things." The press laughed. "Okay! Who's next?"

"Then we have to talk about that new bill proposed in the House yesterday. We're going to need a few lines about-" Toby stopped talking. He and Sam had been discussing the next speech for the President. "Sam."

"Yes, Toby?"

"Why is there a small child wandering through the West Wing?" Toby asked, pointing. Sam followed his gaze across the bull pen to outside Josh's office, where Cerulean was walking with her Fred.

"Let's find out," Sam suggested. He went through the bull pen to the little girl.

"Hi, Mr. Sam."

"Hello, Cerulean. What are you doing?" Sam asked as Toby followed him over.

"I want to talk to the President," Cerulean said.

"You and nearly every other kindergartener in the country," Toby muttered.

"I have to tell him something," Cerulean insisted "It's in-port-ant." Sam sighed.

"Maybe you could see him for a minute," he said.

"What?" Toby said.

"Look, we'll have to call the school and it'll take them a few minutes to get here, so why not?" Sam said. "It's sort of my fault, anyway…"

"Of course it is!" Toby said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Why am I not surprised? You can handle this on your own." The older man walked away. Cerulean looked up with her big brown eyes.

"Thanks, Mr. Sam."

"Don't worry about it." Sam took Cerulean by the shoulder and walked to Kathy's desk.

"Kathy, could you call Ulysses S. Grant Elementary? We have one of their students," Sam said.

"Sure thing, Sam."

"Thanks. Come on, you." Sam led Cerulean to the Oval Office. No one noticed the little girl until they reached Charlie.

"Uh, Sam? Why do you have a kindergartener?" the young man asked.

"It's kind of a long story. Is the President in?"

"I'll check. I think he's just with Leo." Charlie went to the door and stuck his head in. He spoke, then returned.

"He says you can come in," Charlie said. Sam looked down at Cerulean.

"Go on." Charlie held the door open and nodded at Cerulean. The little girl walked into the Oval Office, Sam behind her. Bartlet and Leo regarded Cerulean with some shock. Then they looked to Sam curiously.

"She says she has something important to tell you," Sam said, slightly apologetic.

"Okay," Leo said slowly. "Didn't the bus leave already?"

"Yeah," Cerulean said. She rocked on her feet, taking the office in. "You have a very nice office, Mr. President."

"Thank you, Cerulean," Bartlet said. "Why don't you and I have a seat, and you can tell me what it is you have to say." He sat in one of the chairs near his desk. Cerulean shyly walked to the end of the couch and clambered up onto the cushion.

"Mr. President," Cerulean said. "You said if people tell you about the bad people, you'll put them in jail? The bad people?" Her little voice was nervous, stumbling over the words.

"Yes," Bartlet said, cautious. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?" Leo glanced at Sam, who shrugged.

"Yes, Mr. President. I know someone who's, who's very bad. They should be put in jail."

"Why do you think that?" Bartlet asked.

"He beats up kids," Cerulean said quickly. "They don't do anything wrong, promise. They're just there when things go wrong for him, and it's not fair, Mr. President, it's really not."

"That's very true, Cerulean," Bartlet said. His fists clenched discreetly at the ends of the arms of his chair. Bartlet's eyes, blue-gray with the occasional mischievous twinkle, were steely. Sam had the sudden feeling the FBI would soon be involved.

"How often does this happen?" Bartlet asked.

"Every day, Mr. President. Especially after Mr. Qaeda messes up."

"Qaeda?" Leo, Sam, and Bartlet repeated together. Cerulean nodded.

"Yeah. Mr. Al Qaeda. He calls sometimes," she said. Bartlet looked up at the other men.

"Cerulean, you sit here a minute, I need to talk to Leo and Sam."

"Yes, Mr. President." Leo and Sam met the President at the desk. Sam glanced at Cerulean, who was understandably nervous. He smiled at her quickly.

"Al-Qaeda is a terrorist group responsible for the deaths of many American citizens, not to mention their own people," Bartlet said.

"She doesn't know that," Sam said. "She thinks it's a person. The implications…they're beyond her understanding."

"Obviously, or she would have said that right off," Leo said. "If this man does contact Al-Qaeda, he's a terrorist. But that is a very big if, Mr. President."

"We should investigate it," Bartlet said.

"No one's going to take her seriously," Leo pointed out. "She's a five-year-old who carries around a teddy bear. She probably thinks a monster lives under her bed."

"That's why they call it an anonymous tip," Sam said. "And for the record, there may actually be a monster, though he probably doesn't live under the bed."

"We will investigate it," Bartlet deliberated. He walked back to his chair and sat again.

"We are going to look into this, young lady," Bartlet said. "Now, tell me your name again, so I don't forget it."

"Cerulean Barber, Mr. President," she said.

"And what is the man's name?"

"Thomas Barber."

"Oh, no…" Sam murmured.

"Is he related to you?" Bartlet asked. Cerulean nodded.

"My daddy, Mr. President."

"Has he hurt you recently?"

"Yeah."

"Can you show me?" Cerulean pulled up her sleeve. A bruise shaped like knuckles was slowly changing from yellow-green to purple just above her elbow. Cerulean's arm was littered with other bruises. One resembled a paperweight. Sam felt sick.

"Cerulean, here's what we're going to do," Bartlet said. "Leo and I are going to work with this information. I would like you to stay with Sam. You won't go anywhere without him unless you get a call from me or Leo. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. President." Bartlet turned to Sam.

"Sam, has the school been called?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Call them again. Tell them not to come. And try not to let this get around."

"Yes, sir."

"Watch her," Bartlet said. Sam nodded.

"Yes, sir." Sam came to Cerulean. She stood and held Sam's hand. He was leading Cerulean past Mrs. Landingham before he noticed. Cerulean had very tiny hands, and her fingers could barely wrap around a few of his.

"Hello, Sam. Have some cookies," Mrs. Landingham said, holding out the snacks. "One for you, and one for your friend."

"Thank you, Mrs. Landingham." Sam accepted the cookies and handed one to Cerulean.

"Thanks," Cerulean said.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Mrs. Landingham replied. Cerulean smiled shyly.

"Charlie!" Josh came running up. "I need to talk to Leo! Is he in there?"

"The President's talking to him," Sam supplied. Josh looked at Sam.

"Hey, Sam. Who's she?" Josh asked, pointing to Cerulean. Sam looked down at her, then back at Josh.

"Um…ask Leo. We gotta go." Sam led Cerulean back to the bullpen. Kathy came up to them.

"I talked to the school. Her father's going to be here in half an hour," she said. Cerulean pressed herself against Sam's leg.

"Can you contact him?" Sam asked.

"No, he's in his car."

"Listen, when he gets here, you need to call security. Also, can you find a coloring book?" Sam said. Confused, Kathy nodded. Sam took Cerulean into his office. She looked at his shelves of legal volumes in awe.

"That's a lot of books," she said. "Have you read all of them?"

"Probably not," Sam said. "Well, you can sit wherever you want. I think I have some crayons in here, and Kathy's getting a coloring book for you. Let's look for the crayons in my desk." They went to his desk, leaving their cookies on top. Sam opened the bottom right drawer. Cerulean dropped Fred to paw through the miscellanea with Sam.

"Do you live here, Mr. Sam?" she asked.

"No. Although it can feel like I never leave." Sam pulled out some broken pens and threw them out.

"Where do you live?" Cerulean came across a letter opener. Sam quickly put that on his desk.

"In an apartment a few miles away. Say, I thought I lost that!"

"I live in Virginia," Cerulean said. "You have a lot of stuff, Mr. Sam."

"I haven't gone through this drawer in ages, that's why it's so crowded. I think some of this stuff has been here since we were elected!"

"Is that like electricity?" Cerulean asked.

"Sam! I have the- Sam? Where are you?" Ainsley's voice entered. Sam looked over his desk to see the blonde Republican standing at his door.

"Hi, Ainsley."

"Sam, what are you doing?" Ainsley asked. Sam paused.

"Helping the President. What are you doing?"

"I've got your summary on the House proposition and the coloring book," Ainsley said. "Incidentally, why do you need a coloring book?" Sam stood up, looking for an answer.

"Well-"

"Mr. Sam, I found the crayons," Cerulean said, also standing.

"This is why," Sam said. "Good job, Cerulean. This is Ainsley Hayes. Ainsley, this is Cerulean, a guest of the President." Shocked, Ainsley waved.

"Hi, Miss Ainsley Hayes," Cerulean said.

"Hi," Ainsley said. "I guess this is for you." She held out the coloring book.

"Thank you, Miss Ainsley Hayes." Cerulean accepted the coloring book. She moved to the corner and sat down with the crayons and book.

"Sam, what's going on?" Ainsley asked.

"I told you, I'm helping the President. Can I see the summary?" Sam said. Ainsley gave it to him.

"Why does the President want you to watch a kindergartener?"

"It's complicated, Ainsley. I can't talk about it," Sam replied. "I like this, good job."

"You can't talk about it, or you don't trust me?" Ainsley said. "I'm the Assistant White House Counsel-"

"And you know that some things are classified. This is one of those things. Thanks for your help."

"Miss Ainsley Hayes?" Cerulean said. Sam and Ainsley looked at the little girl. She was smiling so happily Sam thought he saw Ainsley melt a little.

"Thank you so much for the coloring book. It's really cool," Cerulean said.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Ainsley turned to Sam. "Do you need any help? I could take care of her." Sam smiled.

"Thanks, but I've got it."

"Hey, Sam, Toby says- Holy sheep!" Josh said. Sam looked up at him.

"Really? Holy sheep? That's what you're going with?" Sam asked.

"Sam, there's a five-year-old," Josh said. "And what happened to her leg?" Sam turned from his work to Cerulean. She was lying on the floor, coloring. Her legs were swinging and Fred sat next to her. A long, nasty cut circled her left leg.

"Cerulean, what happened?" Sam asked. She looked at him, then her leg.

"What happened to- oh. Mr. Qaeda got stopped at customs." Cerulean went back to coloring as a chill ran down Sam's spine. Josh came to Sam's desk.

"I'm not a doctor, but that looks bad," he said. "Do you think we should disinfect it or something?"

"It's not a bad idea," Sam said. "How do we do that?" Josh thought on the question. He went to the door and leaned out of it.

"Donna! How do you disinfect a cut?" he shouted.

"Hydrogen peroxide! Why?" Donna replied from across the bullpen.

"I need some!"

"What did you do?" Donna demanded, accusatory.

"Nothing! Get me the hydrogen per-whatever!"

"He's really loud," Cerulean observed. Sam nodded.

"Josh? Donna says- Oh My God!" C.J. shouted, entering Sam's office. Josh and Sam stopped what they were doing to look at her.

"What?" Josh asked, holding the bottle of peroxide.

"What are you two doing to that little girl?" C.J. demanded, hands on her hips. Sam, who was sitting on the floor with Cerulean, glanced at Josh, who was about to tip the bottle over her leg.

"We're trying to disinfect her cut," Sam said, turning back to C.J.

"In your office? Do you know anything?" she replied.

"Well, yeah. They wouldn't let us work in the White House if we didn't," Josh said.

"Anything about children? Or first aid?"

"Not really," Sam admitted. "My knowledge is lacking there."

"Obviously," C.J. said.

"Is she your big sister?" Cerulean asked.

"It sure feels like it," C.J. replied. "Josh, cap that bottle this instant. It stains carpet. Sam, you should at least do this over a sink or a bathtub, or for God's sake a toilet."

"It stains?" Josh asked. "Huh. Learn something new."

"Where am I supposed to find a bathtub in the White House?" Sam asked. "One that doesn't belong to the President, anyway…"

"What happened to dis-inspecting?" Cerulean added. C.J. sighed.

"Honey, you're going to come with me. Josh, peroxide please?" she said. Josh handed her the bottle.

"How do you know about kids?" he asked.

"Please. I have a niece, and I babysat when I was a kid. I can handle a five-year-old better than you two."

"Wait, I'm supposed to watch her," Sam said.

"You can watch the door of the women's locker room while I take care of this. Come on, honey." C.J. held her hand out to Cerulean, who twisted her head to look at Sam.

"Is that okay, Mr. Sam?" she asked.

"Yes. This is Miss C.J. She's a very nice lady," Sam told her.

"Most of the time," Josh added, smiling.

"Donna says you need to answer the phone or you're fired," C.J. replied darkly.

C.J. sat Cerulean on the sink in the women's locker room. Sam had broken under C.J.'s death glare and told her what had transpired in the Oval. C.J. wanted to find this father and throttle him.

"Okay, honey. This will sting a little bit," she said. C.J. opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She poured it carefully onto Cerulean's leg, where it bubbled viciously.

"Ow," Cerulean said. "Ow! That hurts, Miss C.J."

"I know, honey. It's gonna hurt a lot more than I thought it would," C.J. said, eyeing the never-ceasing bubbles.

"Ow! It hurts a lot!" Cerulean said. Tears started to run down her cheeks. C.J. tried putting water on the wound to soothe the pain. The peroxide ran to the other side of Cerulean's leg and she shrieked.

"It hurts! It hurts!"

"It'll be over in a second!" C.J. replied. "My God. Where have you put that leg?" Cerulean didn't answer; she was busy crying and trying to escape.

"C.J.!" Donna said, entering. "What's going on? Why is she crying?"

"This cut is very dirty," C.J. said. "Get some gauze for her leg? And tell Sam we'll be out in a minute."

"He's standing outside the door."

"Of course he is."