Two things that bother me about the end of season 7:
1. Why did they not bring Sam back one episode earlier. He would never have missed Leo's funeral. I mean. Literally just one episode. One.
2. There was never a scene with Sam and Toby.
So yeah, this takes care of the second one.

"I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage.
Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at."
– Maya Angelou

Sam was just reaching up to press the buzzer for what he could only assume was still the right apartment when a woman on her way out of the building opened the door. He caught it automatically and stepped inside, deciding it was probably better that his former boss didn't know he was coming anyway. In fact, the way things had been recently, Sam wasn't sure he even would have been let into the building. Pushing those thoughts aside as he climbed the stairs, he finally arrived at the apartment, hesitated for just a moment, then knocked. Interminable seconds passed as he waited for his knock to be answered - but then, at long last, the door swung open.

"Sam."

He couldn't tell whether Toby was surprised to see him or not. As far as he knew, no one had told Toby that he was back from California. On the other hand, though, Toby's complete lack of contact in recent weeks seemed to Sam to warrant a face-to-face visit. "Hi, Toby."

"What are you doing here?"

Sam shrugged awkwardly. "Josh came out to California to offer me a job under President Santos. Guess it turns out I can't really stay away from the west wing for long."

"Yeah," Toby agreed shortly.

Sam frowned at Toby's obvious discomfort. He knew the reason for it, and he couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed. "Look, can I come in?"

This time it was Toby who hesitated slightly, but then he stood back to let Sam enter his apartment. It looked much as it had when Sam had last seen it some four years previously, although perhaps a bit cleaner now that Toby was spending more time there. Sam couldn't help smiling a little wistfully when he saw the pile of children's toys in the corner, regretting that he'd never gotten the chance to meet Toby's twins.

"You, uh - you want a drink, or something?"

Sam shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm all right." It was the first time he could remember coming to this apartment and giving such an answer to that question, Sam mused. In years past, he and Josh and CJ had often spent more of their free time here than in their own apartments, as Toby's was the largest and most comfortable. For a few seconds, he felt a tug of nostalgia as he pictured the four of them sharing beers over Thanksgiving dinners that consisted mostly of various kinds of take-out while a football game played in the background, Josh and CJ getting into arguments over the referees' calls, and Toby threatening to kick them all out if they didn't help him clean up.

The pleasant recollections vanished when Toby finally broke the silence. "So what do you want, Sam?"

Sam turned to face him, the smile sliding from his face. It bothered him more than he would have cared to admit how much everything seemed to have changed since those days. It wasn't that those first few years in office had been easy, exactly, and yet… in some strange way, they had. "Isn't it obvious?" Sam answered at last with a slightly bitter smile. "I want to know why you stopped taking my calls the day the news broke that you'd confessed to the space shuttle leak."

Toby didn't look him in the eye. Instead, he moved away, absentmindedly picking up a few books from a stack on the coffee table and beginning to rearrange them so he wouldn't have to look at Sam. "Must've missed them," he muttered lamely.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I've called almost every day, Toby," he said, hurt. "Don't bullshit me." Then he took a deep breath, and said the words he knew Toby needed to hear, much as he likely hoped he wouldn't. "I know you didn't do it."

Toby stiffened and glanced back at him for a split second, looking away quickly. "What makes you say that?" he hedged, now staring at a spot a few feet to Sam's right.

Sam laughed frustratedly. "For the love of God, Toby, I know you! Whatever happened between you and the president, whatever you disagreed on or argued about, I know you would never do something to undermine him like that! Not Jed Bartlet." He was shaking his head vehemently, silently daring Toby to deny it. Then, hesitating for a beat, he lowered his voice and continued. "But I also know that confessing to it to protect someone you care about is exactly the kind of thing you'd do... much as you seem to like people to believe otherwise."

They stood in silence again for several seconds. Sam was right, Toby thought reluctantly. Of course he was right. Damn him. Toby rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Just drop it, Sam."

But Sam crossed his arms stubbornly. "Toby..." He sighed. "Dammit, Toby, look me in the eye and tell me you really did this. Just look me in the eye and say that, and I swear I'll let this whole thing go. If you can do that, I'll never bring this up again."

Yet again, there was silence as Toby at last turned to face Sam. He looked him in the eye. The words were there; all he had to do was get out one little sentence - "I did it." - and there would be nothing to worry about anymore. He opened his mouth, ready to make himself say it. "I - " And he stopped. He tried to continue, but the words wouldn't come. Finally, he dropped his gaze, defeated. "I can't."

Sam shook his head, not at all surprised. "You haven't lied to me once since the drop-in during that GDC speech," he said quietly. "Did you think I hadn't noticed?"

Toby looked up at him again, holding eye contact this time. Again, Sam was right. Once Toby had seen the effect that the events of those months - the drop in, his father's affair, Bartlet's MS - had had on Sam, Toby had found that he'd no longer had it in him to look into those almost painfully innocent eyes that somehow still trusted him so much and lie.

"I think you knew I wouldn't believe it," Sam continued softly. "I think you stopped taking my calls because you were afraid that if I found out for sure it wasn't you, I would dig into it and try to find out who it is you're protecting."

To Toby's surprise, Sam looked hurt. "Sam, what - "

"I guess I just thought you knew me better than that," Sam said quickly. "I know you wouldn't have done this without a good reason. I never would've tried to expose the person you're protecting. And you... you should've known that."

Toby stared at Sam in surprise for a long moment, slowly realizing that - yet again - he was exactly right. And now it was Sam who broke eye contact, looking at the floor, his disappointment written all over his face. Suddenly, Toby took a step closer to him, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Sam looked up at him, head tilted slightly to one side.

"You're right," Toby said quietly. "I should've known that. I'm sorry."

Sam nodded, realizing suddenly just how much he'd missed Toby, his surrogate older brother - but it wasn't until Toby used his grip on Sam's shoulder to pull him into a tight hug that Sam realized how much Toby had missed him, too.

Toby held on for a long moment, silently kicking himself for allowing this to happen. After David's death, his frequent long-distance calls to Sam had been one of the few things that had kept him sane. He'd felt to tired back then, so betrayed - first Sam had left, then Josh, then David. He still remembered the call, the exact words Sam had spoken that had made him realize he hadn't been abandoned after all: "I'm gonna call you every day, okay? Twice. Maybe even three times. But anyway, I'm gonna call you. A lot." It was so very Sam - halting and awkward and entirely sincere. And although he'd never said anything, it had meant the world to Toby. Somehow, Sam had always known just when to distract him by talking his ear off, and just when to be a quiet presence on the other end of the line. He knew Toby so damn well - and in return, Toby had misjudged him. Badly. Sam's friendship was so steady and freely given, it was one of the easiest Toby had ever known; he couldn't believe how easy it had been to allow himself to jeopardize it. He'd already lost his little brother by blood; he certainly didn't need to lose this one, too. But thankfully, Sam, loyal and forgiving as he was, hadn't been willing to let Toby do that.

Hoping he could somehow convey the almost overwhelming gratitude he felt in three such seemingly inadequate words, Toby said quietly, "Thank you, Sam."

Sam grinned, a weight lifting off his shoulders as he felt one of the pieces of his life that he'd been missing suddenly slide back into place. "What are little brothers for, anyway?"

Toby finally released him, shaking his head, his beard not quite hiding his smile. "If you've got time to stick around, you want that drink now?"

"Please."