Marrying Josh was a mistake.

Not that I don't love him.  Not that I don't love being married to him.

But, to be honest, if I'd known then what I know now...

I love him too much to hurt him like this.

Because Josh had this reckless impulse, this silly idea about claiming the high moral ground with our secret marriage, he's going to lose the thing that matters most to him.  He's going to lose his political career.

Josh would tell you that it's all right.  He would tell you that, as long as he has me, the rest of it doesn't matter.

He would, of course, be lying.

I'm sure he's telling himself all those things -- about how it's only a job and he loves me far more than he loves running a political campaign or getting a bill through Congress or having the President of the United States ask his advice on matters of domestic policy.

Let him face the fact that all that's about to be taken away from him, and then he'll see what I already know.  As the world's leading expert on Joshua Lyman, I know he can never be happy without a life in politics.

He cried.  The day he realized he might have to resign -- that, in fact, he might not even be allowed to resign; that the president might fire him instead -- he broke down and he sobbed in my arms.  Even during the worst times last fall, even in the middle of the trial, he didn't do that.

So what happens when we clean our stuff out of the office?  (Because, no matter what anyone says, I will not work for an administration that refuses to stand by my husband.)  What happens when Josh is no longer deputy chief of staff?  Josh makes jokes about it.

"We'll go to France," he says.

"We're getting the money for the plane tickets where?"

"Frequent flyer miles?"

"You don't get those for traveling on Air Force One."

"We'll sell the condo."

"As long as we don't have to give the money to Phyllis Tsolakis and her lawyers."

"You're just a ray of sunshine there, aren't you?"

"I'm being practical."

"Can we assume for now that we get to France?"

"For now.  I've never been to France.  Will I like it?"

"You'll love it.  You'll wear one of those little black berets with a striped t-shirt and a black skirt.  Very cute.  Also very short."

"You've put way too much thought into my wardrobe here.  And what will you be wearing?"

He shrugs.  "I don't know.  A suit, I guess."

"I'm sorry, but if I've got to wear a short skirt, I'm going to have to insist that you get out of the suit.  You're wearing jeans.  Very tight jeans."

"Donna!"

"What?  I'm not allowed my fantasies too?  And what are we going to do all day long in France?"

"We're going to make love, drink expensive wine and write scathing manifestos about American politics."

"First of all, we won't be able to afford expensive wine.  Second, even if we could, you have a delicate system, so that would pretty much be throwing money away."

"It's a perfectly good fantasy."

"Easy for you to say.  You're not the one in a short skirt and a silly beret."

"What about the making love part?  And the scathing manifestos?"

"We'll be too busy making love to write the scathing manifestos."

"I want to write scathing manifestos."

"I want to make love all day."

"All right.  As long as you agree to wear the short skirt."

"During the lovemaking?"

"Maybe just the beret during.  And you never utter the words 'delicate system' again."

"And yet I think them."

"They're going to love us in France -- victims of an American sex scandal and all."

"Yes, but I wouldn't let it go to my head. In France, they think Jerry Lewis is a genius, after all."

"Still.  I'll probably get a lot of work as a commentator on American politics."

"Although your audience will be puzzled by your strange obsession with the numbers one through ten."

"They'll also be horrified by the lack of respect I get from my own wife."

"They won't even notice.  They'll all be mesmerized by my beret and short skirt."

"They won't be the only ones."

"Molly will have a French accent, you know.  She'll call you Papa."

"We can send her to the Sorbonne."

"As long as we're fantasizing, we can send me to the Sorbonne."

"I can teach at the Sorbonne."

"I can take your class.  I'll sit in the front row in my short skirt and distract you with thoughts of stamp collecting."

"Donna?"

"Yes, Josh?"

"What's French for philately?"

My visions of the future aren't nearly as entertaining as Josh's fantasy about France.  I'm too damn practical not to face the truth.  When I see the future, I see Josh cut off from the world he loves so much.  I see him looking at me and wondering why he ever thought having me was worth losing all that.  I see him disillusioned and bitter and hating me for what I've cost him.

When I see that, I don't care whether there's a chance Ann Stark will double cross us.  I don't care about re-election or even the people whose homes have been destroyed by Gregory W. Baker's mining company.  All I care about is saving my husband's career.

Please, Josh, take the deal.

***

There is no way in hell I am taking that deal.

Ann Stark convinces Phyllis Tsolakis to drop her lawsuit in exchange for us backing off of Gregory W. Baker and his strip mining company.  On the surface, it seems like an easy decision -- take the deal and it all goes away. B ut since when has my life been simple?

Donna, Leo, CJ, Sam and Toby are talking in circles, but it doesn't matter.

Finally, Leo asks my opinion.  "Josh?"

My first contribution to the discussion is "I'm not taking any deal."

The five of them look at me like I have lost my mind.  Then they all start talking at once.  I hold up a peremptory hand and, amazingly, they all shut up.

"You're not going to convince me," I promise.  "I won't do it."

Donna crosses her arms.  "You'd rather sit idly by while your career is ruined?"

"Sit idly by?" I repeat angrily.  "I have been doing everything I can think of to get this thing kicked.  It's not working."

"Which is why," Sam interjects, "you should consider the deal."

"No."

"Josh--"

"I didn't do anything wrong," I argue, "and I am not going to make some shady deal to cover my tracks."

Leo steps in.  "This isn't your decision alone, Josh.  There are other things to consider."

"Exactly," I agree.  "The administration needs to be absolutely above reproach, and making a morally ambiguous deal with Ann Stark is not exactly the smartest way to protect the president."

Toby nods.  "There's no telling how Ann Stark's mind works.  Hell, she could screw Baker on the strip-mining company and get us at the same time when this deal hits the papers."

"No way," CJ scoffs.  "Gregory W.'s her meal ticket.  She wouldn't flip him."

"She might," he counters, "if this mining thing is bad enough.  What doesn't she want us to find?"

I am nodding my head in agreement.  "And what would happen if it came out?  She's a sharp woman; if she knows the dirty secret, she knows whether or not she can win him the White House.  If she can't, she'd sure as hell end up on the staff of the Republican nominee if she took down Baker and us at the same time."

"Ann Stark," Donna says, her teeth clenched around the name, "is not going to take us down."

I give her a small smile.  "Not if I don't take this deal."

"Josh," Leo says, "what if refusing it costs us re-election?"

And there it is.

Ladies and Gentleman:  Josh Lyman's love life strikes again.  That used to just mean I'd made an ass out of myself yet again, or that my inattention to detail had cost me my latest two-week relationship; this time, it may end up toppling a damn good president.

You'd think, under the circumstances, that I would regret the sequence of events that got me here.  But how can I regret anything that brought Donna into my life?

"Josh?" Donna asks, stepping closer to me.

I take her hand.  "I won't do it," I say, my gaze locking with Donna's.

She watches me for a long moment, then nods.

I turn to Leo.  "I don't trust it, Leo," I say, my tone almost apologetic.  "I don't trust Ann Stark.  She'll promise that the lawsuit will go away, and then Phyllis Tsolakis will make the rounds, telling every media outlet that will listen that she's dropping the lawsuit because she can't possibly gather the evidence to prove her claim when I've got the entire weight of the White House behind me.  Ann Stark will have kept her promise; the lawsuit will go away.  But this will only get worse.  For me, for Donna, and for the president."

Leo considers this.  "We could negotiate--"

"No." I shake my head.  "I know what you're all doing, and I appreciate it."  I look at each of my friends in turn.  "This deal seems like the easiest way to keep me employed, but it's not the right thing to do."

Toby nods.  "True.  But the judgment could go against you, Josh.  Then what?"

I glance at Donna.  "Then Leo can fire me.  For the good of the administration."

Leo gives me a haggard look.  "I don't want it to come to that, Josh."

I attempt a grin.  "Believe me, I don't want that either.  I know Donna's deposition didn't go that well, but neither did Phyllis Tsolakis'.  Her claim is frivolous, besides which there's something damaging out there that Ann Stark doesn't want us to find."

Donna nods.  "So we'll find it."

***

CJ and I are conspiring over lunch in the Mess.  We have decided to put the considerable skills of Operation Seneca Falls into discovering what Ann Stark doesn't want us to know about her boss.  Also into finding a direct link between The Right Direction and Baker.

"We need to find this stuff soon," CJ points out.  "We don't know how long it will be before there's some sort of judgment about Phyllis Tsolakis' lawsuit and then Josh will--"

"Could we not go there today?" I ask.

CJ gives me one of her appraising glances, the kind that convinces you she knows your every secret.  She usually does.  "Donna," she starts.

"Hi, CJ," a voice says behind us.  "I'd say, 'Hi, Donna,' but it hurts too much to be snubbed by people you've always liked."

"Go away, Danny," CJ says without turning around.

"Okay, but if you're not interested in hearing what I've dug up on Ann Stark and Gregory W. Baker's connection to Phyllis Tsolakis--"

"Sit down, Danny," CJ says.

"Okey-dokey."  I was sitting next to CJ, but Danny somehow maneuvers a chair in between us.  "So how's Gail?" he asks.  "Don't you think I'm entitled to visitation rights there?"

"She's a fish, Danny."

"Yes, but she's our fish.  As a neutral third party who has always liked me, Donna, don't you think I'm entitled--"

"Nice try, Danny," CJ interrupts, "but I've told you that Donna is not talking to any reporters."

"She's talking to Katie."

"Not about the circumstances surrounding her marriage or about this completely unwarranted lawsuit," CJ says.  "Donna and Katie have a long-standing friendship.  Any conversation you may have observed between them was off the record and completely personal."

"Now that just hurts," Danny replies.  "Truly.  I'm a sensitive guy, and that wounds my ego."

"We're all learning to live with your pain," CJ says.

"No, really," Danny says.  "I've been a friend to this administration; I've been a friend to Josh.  I did that whole op-ed piece during the Mary Marsh thing, Donna; you hugged me when you read that piece.  Which, in retrospect, should have clued me in to this thing between you and Josh, but--"

"There was no thing between Josh and Donna at the time of the Mary Marsh incident," CJ interjects.  "Let me be very clear about that."

"Whatever," Danny replies.  "I'm just saying, you guys could stop treating me like the enemy."

"You said you had information about Phyllis Tsolakis," CJ says.

"Phyllis Tsolakis is being backed by a right-wing think tank called The Right Direction," Danny says.

"We know that already," CJ answers.  "You know how we know that?  We read Katie's story."

"Katie's allowed to talk to Donna; Katie gets the story," Danny says.  "It's enough to make a person wonder."

"Katie did extensive research on that story," CJ replies.  "It's an amazing piece of writing.  Nobody gave her a handout on that one."

"And yet someone could have pointed her in the right direction," Danny says.  He catches the unwitting pun and winces.  "So to speak."

"Again, Daniel, I ask whether you have a point."

"My point, Claudia Jean, is that I've been doing some digging of my own.  The board of directors for The Right Direction includes Beth Baker, wife of Gregory W."

"Which was mentioned in Katie's story," CJ says.  "I'm impressed by your ability to read, Fish Boy."

"It gets better.  Mrs. Baker -- she prefers Mrs. -- by the way, Donna, I'm assuming you're still using Moss?"

"Moss-Lyman.  With a hyphen."  I can't resist.  CJ glares at me.

"She can speak!" Danny exclaims.

"Danny."  CJ gives him her warning voice.

"Mrs. Baker used to be Elizabeth Mayfield.  In college, Elizabeth Mayfield was roommates with Theresa Canterbury.  Terry Canterbury married James Tsolakis.  James Tsolakis has a cousin named Eric, who is married to--"

"Phyllis Tsolakis," CJ finishes.

"Small world, huh?" Danny asks.

***

I can hear Donna and CJ coming before they're anywhere near my office.  Amused, I get up and lean casually against the doorframe.  As they walk toward me, they're both gesturing wildly while discussing... Phyllis Tsolakis?  This could be interesting.

"Josh!" Donna exclaims, finally having noticed me.  "We've got something on Baker!"

"That he's a two-bit hack with a rabid hatred of President Bartlet?" I answer, grinning.

"That too," CJ responds.  "This is better.  Turns out, Baker's wife's college roommate's..."  She trails off, looking to Donna.  "What was it again?"

"College roommate's husband's cousin's wife," Donna finishes.

I stare at them.  "What?"

"Baker's connected to Phyllis Tsolakis," CJ answers impatiently.  "Danny's got it; it'll run tomorrow."

"Connected how?" I ask, still trying to follow all the possessives.

"Elizabeth Baker's old college roommate married into the Tsolakis clan," Donna explains.

"Wait -- Elizabeth Baker was roommates with Phyllis Tsolakis?"

"Yeah, cause Elizabeth Baker's not, like, fifteen years older than Phyllis Tsolakis," CJ rolls her eyes.  "Elizabeth Baker was roommates with Theresa Canterbury, who married a Tsolakis.  That's how Ann Stark dug up Phyllis Tsolakis."

I don't bother disguising the smirk.  "Ann Stark found her boss's wife's old roommate's husband's cousin's wife?"

Donna beams at me.  "Yes!"

"Who just happened to have been interviewed by me for a job at the White House?" I ask, still skeptical.

"There's a connection?" Toby asks, appearing next to CJ.

CJ glances at him.  "Between Baker and Tsolakis?  Yes."

"Distant, but not too distant?" he guesses.

"Baker's wife's old college roommate's husband's cousin's wife," CJ replies.

Toby blinks.  "That's distant."

"Convoluted, even," Donna offers cheerily.

"But it makes sense," Toby says.  "There's no way Phyllis Tsolakis thought this up on her own, and they filed suit far too quickly for this not to have been in Stark's pocket."

"Right," CJ nods.  "So obviously there was a connection of some kind. And now we found it."

I nod slowly.  "It's damaging, but not damaging enough."

Donna frowns at me.  "Why not?  We can all but prove that this lawsuit is a ploy by the Senate Majority Leader -- who happens to have presidential aspirations -- to create a White House scandal."

"Proving he put her up to filing a lawsuit doesn't disprove her allegations."

"But her allegations are lies," Donna argues.  "She admitted in her deposition that you asked her conversationally--"

"I still asked her," I interrupt.  "Well, I still may have asked her.  I honestly don't remember."

Donna turns a pleading look to CJ and Toby.  "This isn't enough?"

They exchange grim looks.  "It'll weaken the story in the media," CJ answers.  "Put us about even."

Toby nods.  "But they won't drop it over this revelation.  They'll just try to spin it."

Donna meets my gaze, her happy statement of moments ago replaced by a quiet determination.  "So this isn't what Ann Stark was afraid of us finding."

I shake my head.  "Nope.  She wouldn't be willing to deal over this."

Donna nods, resolute.  "So let's go find what she wants hidden."

*

Nobody knows I'm here right now, not even Donna. I probably should have told her.  In fact, I may spend the night on the couch because I didn't, but it's far too late to worry about that now.

"Josh."  Ann Stark appears in her office doorway, a smug smile in place.  "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

I give her my best smirk, brush past her into her office, and place my hands on my hips.  It's a favorite Master Politician stance of mine, and I find it works nicely in a situation like this.

You see, Ann Stark thinks I'm here to take her deal.  She thinks that my coming to her office is symbolic of my relative status in this power play.  She's convinced she's got the upper hand.

Overconfident people are much easier to drop.  And much more fun.

And so I nod at her and say politely, "The pleasure is all mine."  I can tell from the look on her face that she thinks I'm kissing her ass.  In reality, I am merely stating the truth; I am going to enjoy the hell out of this meeting.

Ann leans casually against her desk.  Interesting body language.  Aloud, she says, "So you've had time to think about my offer."

"Yes."  I'm still working the syrupy voice.

She smiles.  "You must be eager to put this behind you."

"You're right," I admit agreeably.  She is, only we have very different ideas of how to accomplish that goal.

"So," she nods, "we have a deal?"  She's so confident of my response that she just keeps on talking.  "It's been nice doing business with you, Josh.  You're much less prickly than Toby."

"True," I smile.  "But there's something you've got to like about Toby's style."

Ann raises an eyebrow.  "What's that?"

Sometimes I really love my job.  "Say what you want about his lack of tact, but you always know exactly where you stand with Toby Ziegler."  It's my turn to plow ahead, heedless of her response.  "You told Baker not to do it, didn't you?"

Ann Stark is suddenly tense, but she plays the game far too well to give in to the urge to retreat behind her desk.  The status reminder wouldn't be enough to counteract the ground she'd lose -- literally and figuratively -- by moving at this stage of the game.  "What are you talking about?" she demands.

"Gregory W.," I answer.  "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you:  Why's he so damn proud of the 'W?'  It's not like he invented the letter--"

"Told him not to do what?" she interrupts.

Yup, she's definitely rattled.

I flash what Donna calls my Arrogant Bastard Smirk.  "It's bad, obviously, or you wouldn't be backing off," I say conversationally.  "I mean, this lawsuit was pretty clever, Ann.  You are a formidable foe.  Too bad you picked the wrong politician to back."

She's glaring at me now.  "Gregory W. Baker," she says, emphasizing the initial, "is a damn good politician.  And I'm going to put him in the White House."

I laugh -- a calculated little snicker.  "No, you're not.  First and most importantly, because it's President Bartlet's House for six more years.  Secondly, even if Gregory W. does end up the Republican nominee, you won't be there."

"Look, if you don't want to deal, fine.  But I'm not going to sit here and listen to your ridiculous ramblings--"

"You're the fall guy," I interrupt, then my imagination supplies a mental picture of Donna and CJ giving me twin dirty looks.  "Fall person," I amend.

"You're making less and less sense," Ann Stark answers sharply.  "You sure your brain wasn't deprived of oxygen for too long?"

I am this close to losing it when I recognize that remark for what it is -- political.  She's trying to wrest control of the conversation away from me; and if I start yelling, she succeeds.

Instead, I let my smirk fade into that emotionless mask I get when I'm really angry.  "Here's how I see this playing out.  We're close, obviously, or you wouldn't be trying a preemptive deal.  So give us a couple days and we've got your boy and his idiotic blunder.  I'm guessing it's something with The Right Direction and Phyllis Tsolakis.  It hits CNN, and suddenly Baker needs someone to take the heat -- Who better than his Chief of Staff?  You orchestrated it, he'll say.  He knew nothing about it.  And before you know it, you're working for some state senator in -- Where are you from?"

"Illinois," she answers.  "Chicago's a great place to learn politics."  She holds my stare for a long moment.  "That's not going to happen."

The grin is back.  Sometimes, I just can't help it.  "'Kay."  I head for the door.

"You're making a mistake," Ann calls after me.

I stop and turn back.  "No.  You made a mistake when you underestimated me, and when you underestimated my wife, CJ, Toby, and the entire Bartlet administration.  We don't do shady deals."  I pause for emphasis.  "That way, they can't come back and bite us in the ass."

With that parting shot, I breeze out of her office.  Whistling.

***

On television, whenever someone needs to research a complex, arcane subject, all they have to do is type a few words on a computer.  Within seconds, everything anyone could possibly want to know about that topic appears on the computer screen.  I would give anything to know what sort of magic search engine they're using.  Things certainly don't work that way in the White House.

I've spent a fascinating morning researching tax cuts.  Or tax reform.  Or tax relief.  Whatever the hell we're calling it this week.  Outside of the moment when I realized that all this data about married couples filing jointly applies to Josh and me, the morning has been mind-numbingly boring.  So I'm more than a little happy when Bonnie and Ginger stop by to suggest that we get lunch, retire to CJ's office and plow through the stuff for Operation Seneca Falls.

It's Bonnie who first notices Ann Stark.  "What the hell?" Bonnie asks.  "Who let her in the building?"

"Who do you think she's here to see?  Toby?  CJ?" Ginger asks.

"It sure as hell better not be Josh," I mumble.

"Not if she values her life," Bonnie agrees.

As though she can read our minds, Stark takes this moment to make eye contact with me.  She breaks out into this phony smile and makes a beeline toward me.

"Donna," she says, as though we're old friends -- and can I just point out that I have never given this woman who is trying to destroy my husband's career permission to use my first name?  "It's such a pleasure to see you again."

"If you're looking for Josh, he isn't here."

She smiles as though I've said something amusing.  "I'm here to see you," she announces.  She has this annoying lilt in her voice, like she's doing me some great favor and it amuses her no end.  "Can we go somewhere private?  Your office, perhaps?"

"I don't have an office."

"Of course you don't.  How thoughtless of me.  Your husband's office then?"

I shoot Bonnie and Ginger a look which loosely translates as "find Josh and CJ now" and lead Stark into Josh's office.

Ann Stark takes off her coat and looks around, ostensibly for a place to hang it.  I motion toward the visitor's chair.

"This is genuine fur, dear," she says in this patronizing tone.  "I'd hate to just throw it over a chair like some synthetic thing you'd buy at Penney's."  She says this with an appraising look at my dress.  Which is Ralph Lauren and which I'm still paying for a year after I bought it, but whatever.

"I doubt you'll be staying long enough for your coat to be damaged," I answer.

"Oh, dear," she says in that "you-silly-Democrats-are-just-too-amusing" voice of hers.  "Don't tell me you're one of those people who objects to mink?"

I glare.

"Of course you are," she decides.  (She's right, by the way.)

She looks around appraisingly.  "CJ's office is much nicer," she says.  "Also larger.  That surprises me.  I'd expect the deputy chief of staff to have a more, well, prestigious space.  I think I'll ask for CJ's office when we move in."

"And here I thought it was Leo's office you coveted," I say.

She raises an eyebrow and smiles as though I'm too naive and amusing.  "Oh my," she says, "Josh's little kitten has claws.  Who knew?"

"Is there some reason you wanted to see me?" I ask.  "Because I have work to do, and I can't spare the time."

"Well, you see, I realized I'd been somewhat remiss the last time I was here.  I didn't offer you my congratulations on your marriage.  Although doesn't etiquette suggest that you congratulate the groom and give the bride your best wishes?  Well, whatever.  I'm still at fault since I completely forgot to congratulate Josh when he stopped by my office this morning."

She pauses here, ostensibly for breath but really to gauge my reaction to that line about Josh coming to see her.  And I'm afraid I give something away before I school my statement into passivity.  Honestly, you'd think Josh would tell me these things.

"And you know," Stark goes on, "it occurs to me that I'm still remiss.  I didn't bring you a gift.  But of course I had no idea where you were registered."

"Registered?"

"For gifts.  China, linens, that sort of thing.  Oh, don't tell me -- you're not registered anywhere.  That's such a mistake on your part, Donna.  I mean, what's the point in getting married if you don't have all your friends buying you lots of lovely things?"

"I pretty much thought the point was sharing your life with someone you love," I answer, "but I suppose your priorities are different."

"See?  This is what I love about you people.  You try to be such political realists, but you're so sweetly idealistic.  It's quite adorable in a horribly misguided way."

"As I said, Ms. Stark, I have work to do, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Of course," she says.  "I understand completely.  There's so much you have to put in order before Leo McGarry shoves Josh out the door."  She picks up her coat and heads toward the bullpen.  With her hand on the doorknob, she turns around and looks at me as though she's suddenly remembered a message she was supposed to deliver.  "I'm so forgetful," she says.  "I'm supposed to tell you -- Frances says hello."

Okay, that one stops me in my tracks, as I'm sure Ann Stark knew it would.

"What are you doing talking to my sister?" I ask.

"What are you doing investigating my boss?" she replies.

Trying to save my husband's job, of course, but I'm not telling her that.  So I do my best wide-eyed, flighty blonde routine.  "Investigating your boss?" I repeat.

"Oh, don't bother to deny it.  Anyway, aren't you curious about what your sister had to say?"

I sigh.  "Not really.  I can guess.  Francesca is nothing if not predictable."

"She seems delightful to me.  We really hit it off."

"You would."

"Isn't that the thing with relatives?  You find yourself intimately connected to people you have nothing in common with.  You should meet my cousin; she's absolutely obsessed with sports.  Well, there's no accounting for taste, is there?  But I'm sure you want to hear about your sister, so I'll tell you what she said.  She loves you, your parents are worried sick about all this, everyone misses you, they'll be there for you when your marriage falls apart as it inevitably will."

I admit it takes me a minute to recover from that one, mostly because that sounds exactly like my family and it makes me too damn angry.  "I'm sure you were disappointed," I finally say.

"Disappointed?  Whatever do you mean?"

"You called my family looking for some dirt, didn't you?  Some horrible scandal in my past that hasn't been in the papers?  Maybe something incriminating about my relationship with Josh?  You must have been heartbroken not to find anything."

"I don't mind telling you I almost shed a few tears.  I've come to the conclusion that your relationship with Josh Lyman has been depressingly above board.  Not even Mandy Hampton divulged any scandalous details.  By the way, there's someone you shouldn't turn your back on.  That woman does not harbor warm and fuzzy feelings toward you.  Talk about bitter!"

"That door opens if you turn the doorknob clockwise."

"Personally, I think you did Mandy Hampton a huge favor.  That woman in California too -- what was her name?"

"Then after you turn the doorknob, you put one foot in front of the other--"

"Joey Lucas; that was it.  Yes, you did them both a favor.  I've been in this business long enough to know that political operatives' marriages never work out.  Come to think of it, Mandy Hampton and Joey Lucas have been around long enough to realize that too.  Probably explains why Josh settled for you."

"You'll need to take a right when you get to the bullpen."

"Just look around you, and you'll see I'm right.  What sort of relationships do you see here?  There's Leo McGarry and his wife, there's Toby and Andie--"

"President and Dr. Bartlet."

"Which proves my point.  The President and the First Lady are in the public eye.  Those kinds of marriages usually last, if only for the PR factor.  It's the operatives behind the scenes who seem to run into problems, isn't it?  People like Leo and Toby and Josh.  Why do you think that is?"

"Are you this big a bitch naturally, or is it a skill you've cultivated?"

"I'm merely saying that the odds aren't in your favor.  I mean, I completely understand the attraction.  I wouldn't describe him as conventionally good-looking, but there's definitely something sexy about Josh Lyman.  Oh, I hope you don't mind my saying that about your husband?"

"Not at all.  Strangely enough, I've noticed that my husband is attractive."

"Look at you.  That is so adorable.  You're standing here hating me, and I mention that sexy husband of yours and you just start beaming.  You've got it pretty bad, haven't you?"

"Are you planning on leaving before primary season starts?"

"I do feel bad, not having gotten you a wedding gift.  So here's what I'll do -- I'll give you a second chance at that deal."

"We don't want your deal.  And I'm guessing you know that."

"But this is a different deal.  I'd call it a new deal, but I am a Republican, after all.  Not only will we drop the lawsuit, we'll persuade Phyllis Tsolakis to hold a press conference at which she'll apologize to Josh and assure the world that he isn't guilty of any wrongdoing.  Josh's reputation is restored, and you get to live happily ever after.  Or for as long as these things usually last."

"First, we're not interested in any deals."

"Are you sure?  You look a little interested."

"Second, you're talking to the wrong Lyman."

"I don't think so.  My reading on this is that Josh is every bit as infatuated as you are.  For the moment.  You could talk him into this if you wanted to.  And I'm guessing you don't want him sacrificing his career for the woman he loves and all that."

The connecting door opens before I have a chance to tell her to take her deal and stuff it.  Ann Stark doesn't look the least bit flustered by the fact that we've been interrupted.  She simply gives one of those annoying fake smiles of hers and says, "CJ!  Toby!  How nice to see you.  Donna and I were having the most fascinating discussion, all about marriage and politics.  I especially can't wait to hear your opinion on that subject, Toby."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Toby asks.

"You guys hire Republicans," Ann Stark answers.  "That's so characteristically idealistic of you.  I can promise that we won't make that kind of mistake when we move in."

CJ goes to the door.  "Carol," she yells.  I have to give her credit.  Josh couldn't have bellowed "Donnatella Moss" any louder.

Carol comes running and takes a puzzled look around the room.  "Tell Ainsley Hayes I want to see her now!"

Carol nods and runs off to summon Ainsley.  That will make my joy in this day complete.

"By the way, CJ," Ann Stark says in her oh-so-casual voice, "I've been meaning to ask -- Is the desk in your office your personal property, or is it government issue?  Because it's exactly what I'm looking for -- efficient without being too masculine.  I'd like to keep it when you guys move out."

"Are you here for a reason?" Toby asks.

"She's talking about deals again," I say.  "Personally, I think Josh frightened her."

"Isn't she just adorable?" Ann asks.  "All that misguided faith in Josh and the power of true love.  Were we ever that naive?  Although now that I think about it, Toby, Andy used to have that kind of attitude, didn't she?  And we all know how that turned out."

Toby looks even more grim than usual, CJ looks like she would gladly throttle Ann Stark with her bare hands, and I'm wishing somebody would explain the undercurrents here to me.  I hate when I don't understand the backstory.

It's at this moment, when everyone except Ann Stark is looking uncomfortable, that Ainsley Hayes enters the fray.

"CJ," she says, "your secretary--"

"Assistant," CJ and I mutter in unison.

"Assistant." Ainsley corrects herself.  "She indicated that you were eager for me to see you as soon as it was, for me, possible.  Oh, Ms. Stark, you're still here."

"Don't you adore her accent?" Ann Stark asks.  Ainsley beams.

"Ainsley," CJ asks -- and if CJ said my name in that tone of voice, I'd be quaking in my three-inch heels, "did you let this woman into the West Wing?"

"Did I do something that might be considered inappropriate?  Ms. Stark assured me that she was desirous to clear up a misunderstanding that she believed had arisen between herself and Mr. Lyman.  I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You weren't," I reply.

Ainsley looks at me as though she can't believe I'm allowed in the room, much less that I'm permitted to speak.  "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't do it again," CJ says.

"CJ," Ainsley starts, "I most certainly respect your accomplishments as a woman who has reached a position of power, although I in no way agree with any of the things you represent politically.  However, I must point out that Mr. Tribbey, as my immediate supervisor, should be the one who--"

"You cleared this with Lionel Tribbey?" CJ asks.

"I saw no reason to trouble--"

"Ainsley, here's the thing: Ann Stark works for Gregory W. Baker," CJ says.  "As I'm sure you realize, Baker wants to run against us.  I'm sure you honestly thought you were being helpful, but at some point you're going to have to ask yourself about your conflict of interest."

"Conflict of interest?" Ainsley replies.

"Baker's a conservative Republican," CJ explains.  "You're a conservative Republican.  If you want him in the White House, working with us could be a conflict of interest for you, couldn't it?"

"I -- well--" Ainsley Hayes is at a loss for words.  Who knew it was possible?

"Don't worry, dear," Ann Stark tells Ainsley, "there's always a place for you in my office if you want it.  I find you simply delightful."

It's at this moment, while Ainsley Hayes is being tempted by the devil in the form of Ann Stark, that the door opens again.

"Donna," Josh asks, "why are there Republicans in my office?"

***

What did I do so horribly wrong in my past life?

I mean, really, I get back to the office after an excruciatingly long meeting with Stackhouse on the Republican's budget proposal -- which, by the way, is something no one should be forced to sit through -- and now I have to deal with an office full of Republicans?

Well, there's really just the two, but they're two of my least-favorite Republicans, so I think my considerable pique is warranted.  Unfortunately, since I have no idea what this interesting collection of people is doing holed up in my office, I can't give in to my urge to, you know, toss Ann Stark out on her ear.  And her little lawyer, too.

So I take a second to observe the lay of the land, then breeze into my office and ask quite pleasantly what's going on.  I lean casually on the edge of my desk, even though this office is really too damn small for six people to meet comfortably, and flip through a folder.

"I assure you," Ainsley starts, "I was, sir, summoned by CJ's secretary--"

"Assistant," CJ and Donna correct automatically.

Ainsley gives an impatient nod.  "I was merely trying, in my way, to demonstrate that any perceived conflict of interest on my part is--"

I hold up one hand, and, miraculously, she shuts up.  "I was addressing my wife," I point out.

CJ leans back against the door, barely concealing her expression of disapproval.  I'm not supposed to refer to Donna as my wife, apparently, in work-related situations.  But screw it; it's the reason we're all here in this ridiculous meeting.

Donna gives me an amused look.  "Ann Stark wanted to offer us her belated congratulations."

I nod slowly.  "How nice of her."

"Oh, and there was one other thing," Donna says.  "She wanted to give me a shot at her deal.  A belated wedding present, right, Ann?"

I snap the folder shut and toss it aside.  "Really?"  I smirk at Ann Stark.  "Getting a bit desperate, aren't you?"

Ann oh-so-casually slips into her disgusting fur coat.  "Just wanted to preview my future offices," she retorts.  "I figured while I was here--"

"Why are you here, anyway?" I demand, my gaze drifting over to the other Republican in the room.  "Ainsley?"

"Ms. Stark is, because she assured me she wished to clear up a possible misunderstanding, here at my invitation.  And if you would allow me--"

"I wouldn't," I answer.  "And get out."

Ainsley's eyes go very wide.

Ann Stark gives a small chuckle.  "Now, Josh, is that really how you should treat your subordinates?  I can't believe this is the first lawsuit filed against you."

"She," I point at Ainsley, who appears frozen in place, "is not my subordinate.  She works for Lionel Tribbey.  And at this particular time, her presence has outlasted her usefulness to the conversation."  I raise an eyebrow at Ann Stark.  "Speaking of which..."

I can feel Donna giving me an intense look, but I don't break eye contact with Ann.  Finally, she glances at Toby.  "You're going to let him dig himself deeper, Toby?"

Toby glares at her from behind crossed arms.  "Wrong object."

"Excuse me?"

"'Himself' was the wrong choice for the object of that verb.  He's digging you deeper, and you know it."

Ann laughs and shakes her head.  "You're too much, Toby.  You really are.  I'm trying to do you a favor--"

"Like you did at the Leadership Breakfast?" CJ interjects pleasantly from her spot by the door.

"Oh, CJ, I didn't realize you were one to hold grudges," Ann parries.

"All right," I interrupt, "let's just end this charade right now.  In case you didn't get the memo, I'm not taking your deal."  Interesting.  If I hadn't been looking for any sign of weakness, I'd have probably missed the tiny twitch at the corner of Ann Stark's mouth.

She recovers quickly.  "You don't even want to hear me out?"

"Not particularly," I answer.

"You're worried about Phyllis Tsolakis' statement," she presses.  "You think I'll put her on the networks and have her whine about the power of the White House."  She glances at CJ.  "Maybe some stuff in there about the power a WASPy guy like you wields."

I exchange an amused look with Donna.  "I'm Jewish," I point out.

Ann Stark shrugs.  "You don't look it."

Toby makes a strangled noise.

Beside me, Donna says, "My kingdom for an illegally-taped copy of this conversation to sell to Hard Copy."

It takes all I have not to laugh at her reference -- I really don't want to explain the whole Irving-Viridis thing to such an unappreciative audience.  I settle for "I don't think it'd pay all that much.  She's small potatoes compared to us."

Ann rolls her eyes.  "Since I'm not interviewing you for a job, my statement of fact doesn't break any laws," she says.  "And anyway, you're a middle-class Ivy-League graduate; tough life."  Donna bristles beside me, but Ann doesn't even pause.  "You think it matters that you happen to be Jewish?  You're a feminist's worst nightmare."

I glance reflexively at CJ, who is glaring at Ann Stark.

"Actually," CJ observes dryly, "you're this feminist's worst nightmare."

Ann looks genuinely pleased to hear this.  "Do tell."

But it's Donna who tells.  "You abuse the laws that were meant to protect people and use them instead to persecute innocent political rivals."

Ann Stark shrugs it off.  "I find it inherently offensive, this idea that women need special protection cause we can't hack it in the political world," she argues.  "Look at me?  I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.  I don't need Congress to protect me from men."

I jump in before CJ or Donna has the chance to bring the Tae Kwan Do.  "If you'd like your little friend Ainsley here to escort you from the building, feel free.  But this meeting is finished."  I pause for a moment, then decide to test my hypothesis.  "You have anything else to say, stick it in a memo."

There it is again.  She flinched at the word "memo."  Very interesting.

I don't chance a look at Toby to see if he caught it too.  I push off from the desk, standing shoulder to shoulder with Donna.  Toby and CJ both move in a bit closer, and we form some strange sort of Democratic wall.

A damn intimidating one, if the look on Ainsley's face is any indication.  As for Ann Stark, she forces a grin.  "It's your decision, Josh.  Just remember, your time is running out."

I let the corner of my mouth quirk upwards.  "Are you referring to your offer, or my tenure at the White House?"

She gives a careless shrug.  "Take your pick; it's bound to be one or the other.  Ainsley," she says, turning to her compatriot, "call me.  We'll do lunch."

***

"Well, that was intriguing," CJ says.  "I wonder why Ann Stark's so eager to make this deal."

"She's afraid of something," Toby suggests.

"Something in a memo," Josh adds.

We all look at Josh for clarification, and I know I'm biased but the man is totally hot.  He's all arrogance and smugness and he's like three steps ahead of the rest of us in figuring out all the angles.

The Master Politician at work.  I cannot take my eyes off him. 

"She flinched," he explains.  "I said the word 'memo,' and she flinched.  Twice."

Toby looks at Josh as though the pieces are beginning to fall into place.  "That she did," he agrees.

"What is this?" CJ asks.  "Men's intuition?  You think she flinched, and that gives the whole scam away?"

"I'm just reading the signs," Josh says.  "The very clear signs."  He's entirely too smug, and he's enjoying himself way too much.  He's playing politics, and he's winning.

I'd do him right here and now if he asked.

Okay, call me unprofessional, but he's so incredible.  How can you be female and heterosexual and not be turned on?  There's this energy that he gives off when he's like this, and it's simply too amazing.  Honestly, I don't know how every woman within a five-mile radius can fail to pick up on it.  He's standing there, leaning against his desk with the attitude and the smirking and the HOT and I can't help it; I want him, and I want him now.

How many hours until we can go home?

CJ, who is by far a stronger woman than I, seems completely oblivious to how hot he is.  She is, instead of lusting, arguing with him about how he's basing his opinion on some subtle nonverbal cue that the rest of us failed to pick up on.  "Had your eyes examined lately, Joshua?" she asks.

God, I love his eyes.

"Ann Stark flinched when I mentioned memos," Josh repeats.  "I saw it.  Toby saw it.  Donna saw it."

"I really didn't," I tell him.

"You didn't?" he repeats.

I shake my head.  What can I say?  I was too busy looking at him with his smugness and his arrogance and, well, you get the idea.

"Well," he says, "I know what I saw, and she flinched."

"She reacted strangely," Toby agrees.

"That's certainly nice and vague," CJ says.  "And while you argue about whether her reaction could be called a flinch, there's the question of whether we should consider this deal."

The Master Politician gets that look -- the tight set to the lips, the narrowing of those incredible eyes -- and he repeats, "I will not take any deal."

"Josh," CJ says; she's practically imploring here.  "We have what is basically a PR problem.  Do you trust me to understand the nature of PR problems?  If we can get Ann Stark -- the desperate Ann Stark -- to let us okay the wording of Phyllis Tsolakis' statement in advance, we can leak the statement to Danny or to Katie.  We can work on making sure that Baker's office is unable to make either you or the administration look guilty.  We could quite possibly save your career, you moron.  Donna, make him agree with me!"

When he has that look on his face, you might just as well forget about compromise.  He's out to win, and that's the only thing he's going to settle for.

And when he gets that look on his face, he knows he's going to win.

I shake my head.  "I can't, CJ," I say.  "He's not taking the deal."

"But she's caving," CJ says.  "We can get everything we need.  We can get a written guarantee that Phyllis Tsolakis will not make the rounds of the morning talk shows, telling everyone she only dropped her lawsuit because she couldn't fight the big, bad White House.  We're winning, Josh.  If we throw this chance away because you think there's some incriminating memo out there somewhere and we never find it, what are you going to do?"

The Master Politician puts his arm around me.  "Take my wife to France," he suggests.

***

Instead of Paris, Donna and I head to Sam's office, where he is surrounded by weighty legal tomes.  I need to know just how bad this could get.  I mean, we're going to find the memo.  But just in case.

"Sam," I say, pulling Donna down onto the couch beside me, "I told Ann Stark where she could stick her deal.  What's the worst that could happen?"

Sam takes a second to digest that.  "What?  You told her--"

"I'm not taking the deal," I repeat firmly.  "And she flinched."

Now Sam just looks confused.  "Who flinched?"

"Ann Stark," Donna explains.  "When Josh mentioned the word 'memo.'"

I glance over at her, because she sounds kind of funny.  Her voice is a bit lower than normal -- for work, anyway -- and she's sitting right up next to me on the couch.  Also unusual.

I force myself to concentrate on Sam, who still looks slightly lost, instead of my delectable wife.  "I said 'memo,' and Ann Stark flinched.  So now we just need to dig up whatever heinous memo Baker wrote--"

"Wait.  She flinched?" Sam asks.

"Yes."

"So you turned down the deal?"

"Yes."

Sam stares at me.  "Okay."

"So I'm asking, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Aside from you turning down a perfectly good deal?"

"Sam," I warn.

"A trial," he answers promptly.  "The press coverage would be insane."

"I'm not talking from a PR standpoint.  Legally, what's the worst that could happen?"

Sam sighs.  "Worst case scenario would be the judge finding you in violation of Title VII, obviously."

"Yeah," I nod.  "But what would happen?"

"Phyllis Tsolakis is asking, as you know, for monetary relief," he answers carefully.

I can feel my blood pressure rising.  "The judge could actually grant her the $100,000 judgment?"  Donna squeezes my hand.

Sam shrugs.  "It could happen," he reluctantly admits.

Donna and I exchange dour looks.  "Molly's going to have to go to a state school," I say.

"Possibly community college," Donna adds.

Sam gives us a confused look.  "Who?"

"Never mind," I answer.  "I'm just not looking forward to being, you know, poor."

"Oh," Sam says.  "You won't be.  Since you're not the one who pays her salary, you're not responsible for paying any judgment."

"So it would be the government's money?" Donna asks.

"Yes."

"Well, that's better," she says to me.

"Yeah," I shrug.  "Except that's $100,000 dollars that could go toward education."

Donna frowns.  "That's true."

"Of course," Sam adds brightly, "the judge could find you in violation of the code but not grant Phyllis Tsolakis monetary relief."

Donna groans.  "Sam, what the hell are you talking about?"

"King v. Trans World Airlines," he answers.  "There are a lot of similarities to this case."

"Was she discriminated against?" I ask, my tone dark.

"Well, aside from that," Sam backpedals, "it's quite similar.  The plaintiff alleged that during her interview, the TWA representative asked her questions about her plans for having more children, her childcare arrangements, things like that."

"That," Donna says angrily, "is legitimate discrimination.  I could kill Ann Stark!  Do you know how bad it'll look if President Bartlet -- a liberal Democrat and a strong women's rights advocate -- is forced to make any sort of public statement calling Phyllis Tsolakis a liar?  This whole thing just makes me furious!"

"Thank you, CJ," I say sarcastically.

Donna glares at me.  "CJ is not the only feminist in this building, Josh.  You're a feminist."

I stare at her.  "I'm a man, Donna.  I'm not a feminist."

Donna turns so that she's sitting sideways on the couch.  "Do you believe that men and women are inherently equal?"

"Yes."  Like I could answer any differently when she's got that look on her face.

"Bingo," she says, "you're a feminist."

I grin at her.  "Bingo?"

"Stuff it, Josh."

Sam clears his throat.  "So this case--"

"Sam's a feminist too," I say.  I'm not in this alone.

Donna rolls her eyes.  "You're an idiot."

"I get that a lot from my wife."

Sam stares at us.  "You know, you guys are very strange."  I shoot him an evil look, and he holds up his hands in defeat.  "Fine.  You're perfectly normal.  Can we get back to this?"

"King v. Trans World Airline," Donna repeats promptly.  "Gender discrimination.  So what happened?"

"Basically," Sam says, rubbing his hands together in excitement the way he always does when he gets to prattle on about precedents, "the court found that since TWA asked Ernestine King questions during her interview that were not asked of other applicants, the interviewing process was discriminatory."

"I didn't discriminate against Phyllis Tsolakis!"

Donna pats my knee.

Sam ignores my outburst entirely.  "But because of some other extenuating circumstances -- a bad recommendation, stuff like that -- TWA was able to convince the court that regardless of the fact that the interview differed from other applicants' interviews, the airline wouldn't have hired her anyway."

I give him a blank look.  "Huh?"

"Why didn't you hire Phyllis Tsolakis?" Sam asks.

"She wasn't right for the job.  Too by the book," I answer immediately.

Donna beams at me, and Sam gives me a grin.

"So the reasons you didn't hire her have nothing to do with whether or not you asked about her marital status during the interview."

"Exactly!" I say.

"Same thing in this case," Sam explains.

Donna gives Sam her expectant face.  "So what happened?"

"The court ordered an injunction against TWA," Sam answers.  "Ordered them not to discriminate anymore."

Donna scrunches her face up in disbelief.  "You mean the court said, 'Hey, quit doing that'?"

"Basically," Sam nods.

"So I could be found guilty of discrimination, but it's possible the court would merely tell me not to do it again?"

"Possible," he answers.  "Not probable."

"Why not?"

"Well," Sam shrugs, "you can't prove you wouldn't have hired her."

"Oh," I answer.  There is that.

***

It may just be my imagination, but I think the drive home takes longer tonight than usual.

Although in some ways, it's very entertaining because Josh is still going on about Ann Stark and her desperation and her flinching at the use of the word "memo."  He's still in the whole Master Politician frame of mind, and it's too much fun to watch.  Especially since we're going home and I'll finally be able to demonstrate my appreciation properly.

We manage to make it past the reporters (whose numbers seem to be getting fewer lately, thank god) and into the condo before I attack him.  I'm quite proud of my display of willpower today, all in all.

He's no sooner locked the door behind us than I pounce.  I give him what may be the most frantic kiss in recorded history while doing my best to rid him of all that unnecessary clothing.  He goes along with it for a minute, then stops me.

"Donnatella," he says, "don't think I'm not enjoying this, but what the hell is going on here?"

"You and your Master Politician routine," I tell him.  "Do you have any idea how -- well, how erotic that whole routine can be?"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You've been watching me do this routine for more than three years now."

"This is true," I reply, as I note that there are too many damn buttons on his shirt.

"You certainly saw me do that routine a year ago, and you didn't seem to feel the need to--"

"Believe me when I tell you I felt the need a year ago."

"But you didn't--"

"Neither did you, you arrogant bastard."

"Well, you could have.  I wouldn't have stopped you."

"Stop smirking.  And a year ago, you were my boss and it would have been wrong."  I unbuckle his belt for him.

"The smirk is part of the routine, and I'm still your boss.  For the moment."

"You're also my husband, so I'm allowed.  And you'll notice I showed an incredible amount of restraint, and I kept my hands off you in the West Wing."  And there go his pants.

"I'm just amazed.  You mean to tell me that any time during the last three years when I was out threatening Congress and all, I could have been coming home to this?"

"Yes.  You probably could have."

"And you expect the whole Master Politician thing to be this big a turn on in the future?"

He's entirely overdressed with the t-shirt and the boxers.  I need to do something about that.  "Yes, I do."

"Donna?"  He's standing there, looking at me and wearing nothing but a smirk.

"Yes, Josh?"

"I really love my job."

***

"Wow."

Donna grins up at me.  "Yes."

"No, but I mean wow!"

"Again, no disagreement forthcoming from me."

"Seriously," I press.  "Where'd you ever get the idea for--"

"Joshua," Donna slithers up my body, temporarily depriving me of the ability to speak.

"Huh?" I respond.

"Is the play by play necessary?" she asks, a satisfied smirk on her face.

I wrap one leg around hers, trapping her against me.  And then I let my free hand slide ever so slowly down her back.  She shivers and makes a tiny, incredibly sexy sound.

I smirk at her, my fingers tracing her spine.  "I'm just saying, something that amazing should be saved for posterity."

"Josh," Donna mumbles into my shoulder.  She is actually lightly biting my shoulder, and I am finding it unbearably erotic, despite our recent -- and stunning -- round of stamp collecting.

"Yeah?" I manage, my fingers flat on her back, pressing her into me.  God, her skin is just amazing.

"We are absolutely--"  She pauses to lick a freckle on my chest.  "--positively--"  Another one.  "--not videotaping ourselves in bed."

I'm so far gone it takes me a moment to comprehend her words.  "Donna!" I say.  Well, whine.

Donna nips that place under my chin, where my jaw becomes my neck, and says, "Can you imagine if anyone got hold of that?  I am not Pamela Anderson Lee."

And then she pulls back and fixes me with a preemptive glare.

I stare back, wide-eyed.  "There's really nothing I can say here that would be the right thing, is there?"

She lifts one eyebrow.

"Your alabaster skin," I start, "is like..."  I stop.  I am completely at a loss here.

Donna disentangles herself partially.  "Josh, don't take this the wrong way, but I hope Molly and Josiah inherit their verbal skills from me."

"No!  Wait -- Donna," I flip her over so she's flat on her back, her hair spilling haphazardly over the pillow; and it's honestly enough to take my breath away.

It's not until she pokes me impatiently in the side that I realize I am still merely staring at her.

I lean down and kiss her for all I'm worth.  I may not be good with words, at least not the kind I'm supposed to say to my wife, but I can certainly show her how I feel.

When I pull back, she looks decidedly more happy.  Also slightly dazed.

I grin down at her.  "You didn't allow me to fully present my argument," I say.

Donna tries, but she can't help but smile back at me.  "I apologize, Counsel."

"Duly noted," I say.  She smacks me.  "Hey!"

"Duly noted?"

"Apology accepted?" I offer, still grinning stupidly.

"Better," Donna acknowledges with an attempt at her haughty face.  Can't quite sell it, though, what with the way she's squirming underneath me.

"Little impatient, Donnatella?" I ask.

"Little egotistical, Joshua?" she counters.

"Considering the fact that you jumped me as soon as you got the door closed--"

"Joshua?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever want that to happen again, you'd best stop bragging."

"Okay," I nod.  "And we were talking about the wonder that is you."

She laughs.  "The wonder that is me?"

"Yes.  And if I am going to be allowed to finish my--"  I waggle my eyebrows.  "--presentation..."  I take her hands in mine and slide them up to the headboard.  "You might want to hold on."

***

"Josh?"

He rolls over, opens one eye and looks at me.

"Again?" he asks.  "Donnatella Moss-Lyman, you insatiable little minx!"

"Okay?  The smirk and the arrogant bastard attitude?  I have to tell you, the thrill is gone."

"Not what you said an hour ago.  And, you know, I was sleeping pretty soundly when you--"

"Yes!  I am the woman!"

"What?"

"You were sleeping soundly after a few hours of my enthusiastic lovemaking.  I have it on excellent authority that this is some kind of indicator of my sexual prowess."

"Very funny."

"You're not the only member of this family who can mock."

"I've noticed that before.  Is there a reason you woke me up?  Other than the need to mock and not have sex."

"Ann Stark."

"Ann Stark is a reason to wake me up at 2 a.m.?"

"I feel the need to discuss something she said."

"I'm not taking--"

"I know you're not taking the deal.  That's not the issue."

"So what is the issue?"

"Ann Stark -- and it's not that I think this because she said it, you understand, it's just that I've thought about this too and then she said it and I began to wonder--"  For some reason, I can't bring myself to look at him when I say this.

"Donna?  What?"

"Well, she suggested that, if you lost your job over this--"

"Not going to happen."

"If we find that memo.  If that memo exists."

"It exists.  We'll find it."

"Even if we do, Leo and the president could decide--"

"They could.  But they won't."

"You're an arrogant bastard, Josh."

"I'm told some women find that desirable."

"In small doses.  Get over it."

"Okay."

"And supposing you do lose the job--"

"We're back to Ann Stark now?"

"Yes.  She suggested that you'd resent me because of it eventually.  That this is so much of who you are and I'd be responsible for you losing it, and, well, the same thought has occurred to me.  So I figured we should talk about it."

"Donnatella."  He sort of scoops me up into his arms and kisses me.  It's a very comforting sort of kiss.  "That's not true."

"I'm not sure.  I think she has a point."  He's going to deny it again, so I put my hand to his mouth to quiet him while I talk.  "This whole Master Politician thing -- Besides being enormously entertaining to watch, it's such a part of who you are.  If this is taken away from you--"

Being Josh, of course, he can't stand not talking until I finish making my point.  He takes my hand and kisses it, which is a pretty darn effective way of interrupting.

"I'll miss it," he acknowledges.  "I'll even regret it.  But I'll have you.  It's more than a fair trade."  He stares at me with one of those looks that melts my heart and starts again.  "I'm not good at this kind of discussion.  I'm better at, you know, the banter and stuff."

I nod.  "I cannot deny that you give great banter."

"Maybe a year ago, I would have resented you.  I hope I wouldn't have, I hope I was more mature than that, but I think my priorities changed after Rosslyn.  All I know is that when I woke up after the surgery, the only thing I really cared about was knowing you were there with me.  And that's the only thing I'm going to care about when this is over."

This statement, of course, leads to several minutes of kissing and other pleasant activities.  I'm feeling remarkably pleased by the entire situation.  I mean, Josh is not given to passionate declarations of love, which works because, frankly, neither am I.  So those moments when he says things like this carry more impact for me.  I absolutely know he wouldn't be able to pull those words out of himself if he didn't mean every one of them.

But there is one other thing we need to discuss.

"Ann Stark also said--"

"Oh, can we please keep discussion of that mink-coat wearing Republican out of our bed?"

"I don't think that coat was mink, Josh.  Personally, I think it was made from the fur of Dalmatian puppies."

"All right, so what else did Cruella say?"

"She made the point that a career in politics can put a lot of strain on a marriage."

"Well, that's true."

"She mentioned Leo and his wife.  And Toby and Congresswoman Wyatt.  I wouldn't want that sort of thing happening to us."

"It won't."

"Right.  Because I'm sure when they first got married, they envisioned splitting up.  How do we know we'll be any different?"

"Because we're not like them.  We're like my parents."

"Explain, please."

"My parents -- They were crazy about each other.  Hell, my mother is still crazy about Dad, even though he's gone.  When I was growing up, I remember they used to give each other these looks, like they were the only people in the room.  And the way they talked to each other; I swear it was like they had their own private language.  They lived together for almost forty years; they lost a child; and they were still crazy about each other right up to the day my dad died.  And we're like them."

He's just so sure of that.  I can't even imagine being raised by people who felt that way about each other.  My parents -- I suppose they're happy enough, in their own way, but I would never have been able to understand the whole thing about the looks and the language.  That was simply not part of my experience, seeing something like that.  Until, you know, I met Josh and we started doing that.

"Well, all right then," I say.  "As long as I know we're going to be okay."

"We are," Josh says.  He says it the same way he says there's a memo and we're going to find it.  He's completely convinced about his ability to make this turn out the way he wants it to.

Which is, after all, enormously comforting.  And quite a turn on.  As I proceed to demonstrate.

"Again?" he asks.

"Again," I say.

"I love it when you're insatiable."

***

My wife is insatiable.

I have married an insatiable woman.

I am, as you might imagine, pleasantly exhausted today.  In fact, although my mind is unusually sharp, my body is protesting some of the basics.  Walking, for instance.

And so I sit, enthroned upon the luxurious leather of the Master Politician's--

"Josh?" Leo gives a perfunctory knock, then comes in and shuts the door.

"Morning, Leo," I say.

"You're awfully peppy for someone who's dangling onto his job by a frayed rope," he notes, dropping into the visitor's chair.

My grin takes a leave of absence.  "It was a bad deal, Leo."

"It was a good deal when she came back, though, wasn't it?"

I hesitate.  "It was a better deal," I admit.  "But you know as well as I do that we can't have her drop it at this point.  Ignoring the fact that Ann Stark wouldn't drop it now, if she did, it would look like we scared Phyllis Tsolakis off and that we're hiding our wrongdoing.  My wrongdoing.  We need a judge to rule in our favor.  We need to win."

Leo nods.  "True.  But we don't have what we need to do that, right?"

I glance away from him.  "Not yet."

"Josh--"

"Leo, I would've been out of a job if I took that deal."  I meet his gaze.  "I would have, right?"

"The President--"

"Wouldn't have made the decision," I interrupt.  "It would've been you.  And you would've asked for my resignation."

It's his turn to look away.  "Depending on the public reaction--"

"Leo, I've been around the block awhile.  I know how it works.  If this were Toby and--"  I pause, shrugging.  "If this were someone else, you'd be asking me what to do, and I'd tell you to ask for his resignation.  For the good of the administration."

Leo stares at me for a moment.  "If this were someone else--"

"Leo, don't lie to me," I yell.  I take a moment to bring myself under control.  "Not now.  I turned her down.  That option is gone.  It doesn't matter to anyone but me what would've happened.  And I'm asking."

He sighs.  "Yes."

"That's what I thought."  Strange how quickly my morning-after euphoria is fading.

"Josh, you know I would do anything I could--"

"I know," I say, nodding.  "Do you want me to draft a letter of resignation?"

Leo looks shocked.  "What?"

"A letter of resignation," I repeat stonily.  "So we can move with the swiftest speed if this goes bad--"

"Josh, no."

"Leo--"

"I said no," Leo repeats; and when he uses that tone, no one argues.

I watch him for a moment.  "Okay.  The offer's on the table."

"I don't want it there," he answers.

There's a moment of silence, then Leo cracks a grin.  "Besides, I wouldn't want your mother to come after me."

I give an appreciative grunt.

"She's devious, you know."  Leo relaxes back into the chair.  "Did she ever tell you about the time she convinced Jenny to dye all of my socks red?"

I am baffled.  "What?"

"Not just the white ones; Jenny bleached all of my socks first and then dyed them red."

"Why red?"

Leo raises an eyebrow.  "Your parents were Red Sox fans, and I--"

"Chicago," I answer, nodding.  I give him a superior look.  "The White Sox?  Really?"

"Oh, and I suppose you still cheer for the Red Sox even though they haven't won a Series since 1918."

"Hey!" I protest.

Leo smiles at me for a moment.  "Anyway, I've got Fitzwallace in five minutes."

"Anything wrong?"

"No, just a meeting."  He rises to leave.  "Speaking of which, the President would like you to join us for a discussion of the budget proposal."

"Ours or theirs?"

"What do you think?"

"Leo, economics?  And President Bartlet?  Couldn't you just--"

"He requested you."

"But he's going to lecture me for an hour on something I have no hope of understanding."

Leo smirks.  "Probably."

"And then quiz me on what I've learned."

Leo nods.  "More than likely."

"There isn't anyone else you'd rather inflict a little punishment on?"

"Nope."

"Why not Toby?"

"No."

"Sam?"

"Josh, you're the guy.  Two o'clock."

My karma sucks.

***

"Good morning, CJ."

"God, Donna, you sound entirely too cheerful this morning.  You sound--"  CJ stops and takes an appraising look at me.  "The two of you are disgusting," she says.  "Is that all you do?"

"We're making up for lost time."

"Please do not ever say anything like that to anyone but me.  We have enough problems without some third-hand quote getting distorted and ending up in People magazine."

"Don't admit to having sex with my husband.  Got it."

"You think you're so funny, the two of you, with the looks and the jokes that no one else understands, but you're not.  You're a press secretary's worst nightmare; that's what you are."

"You're still upset that he won't take the deal, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm upset.  I was up all last night; I didn't get a wink of sleep.  Oh, dear God, Donna!  You're starting to smirk just like him.  Stop doing that."

"Sorry. I was just thinking about last night."

"And why you lost sleep but are in a disgustingly chipper mood.  Yes, I got that.  But the problem I was losing sleep over still remains.  Ann Stark is offering us pretty much everything we want, and we're throwing it away."

"'Cause she flinched and she's desperate and we're going to beat her."

"According to Josh.  What if he's wrong?"

"He's not wrong."

"How can you be sure?"

"Cause this is what he does.  He's the Master Politician, CJ.  He knows this stuff.  If he says there's a memo, there's a memo.  We just have to go through these tons of papers here and find it."

"Fine.  Where the hell are you going to start?  We don't know if this memo is about Baker's strip mining deal or Phyllis Tsolakis and her lawsuit or his connection to The Right Direction or what."

"Toby's giving Ginger the day to work through this stuff with me.  And Carol and Bonnie are going to work through lunch with us.  We're going to put aside anything that doesn't look like a memo for now.  Then we'll see what's left and figure out what could be incriminating."

"And if it's not there?"

I really am incredibly happy this morning.  "It will be, CJ," I tell her.  "Josh says so."

*

As it turns out, there are actually two incriminating memos.  Ginger finds the first one about two hours into our search, in a stack of papers we've stored on the floor in CJ's office.

"The nerve of this guy," Ginger says.  "Listen to this."  She then proceeds to read a memo in which the employees of Pettus Creek Coal are asked -- Well, "ordered" wouldn't be too strong a word -- to donate money to The Right Direction.

"Let me see."  I practically snatch the paper out of Ginger's hands.  I mean, Gregory W. Baker wouldn't be stupid enough to sign it himself, would he?

He would be.

There is a God.  And she's a Democrat.

I rush to open the connecting door to Josh's office.  "We found it," I announce.  "The smoking gun.  Or the smoking memo.  Or -- Well, whatever it is, it's smoking and we found it."

"The smoking memo?" Josh asks.  "So I guess the famous 770 verbal is failing you, huh?"

"So I guess you've had all the sex you want this week, huh?"

Ginger, meanwhile, has gathered up Toby, Sam and CJ and led them to Josh's office.  We hold a group reading. Josh, who took the memo from me without asking, reads the first part.

"Because I know that you, as an employee of the Pettus Creek Coal family, believe in the American way of life and the family values this organization represents--"

"He used the word 'family' twice in the same sentence," Sam says.

"I don't think that's actually the point, Sam," CJ replies.

"I'm just saying."  Sam looks over at Toby.  "Some people have been known to criticize my writing style, but I would never do anything as clumsy as that."

"Just last week, you--" Toby begins.

"Guys?" Josh asks.  "Do you want to know what this says or not?"

Everyone waits.

And waits.

"Josh," CJ says, "read the damn thing out loud, would you?"

"I was skimming."

CJ snatches the memo out of his hands.  "'The family values', yadda yadda -- Here we go:  'I am recommending that each employee make a donation to this organization and aid it in its work to stop the threat to traditional American values being perpetuated by current Democratic administration.'"

"Someone got paid to write that?" Toby asks.  "Whoever wrote that should be fined for torturing the English language."

"I don't think the literary style is really the point here, guys," CJ says.  "It goes on to set up a whole payment system -- how much employees should donate, how payments will be collected.  It's clear that with this setup, Baker would have a way of knowing exactly who had donated to The Right Direction and who hadn't."

"He's telling his employees to give money to a right-wing organization," Sam says.  "The memo even mentions his opposition to this administration.  This is unbelievable."

The Master Politician is leaning against the desk again, with his smirk and his attitude.  "No wonder she flinched," he says.

***

I am da man!

Not only was I totally and completely right about the memo, but I'm quite purposefully doing the Master Politician thing and Donna keeps staring at me.  And after last night, I know all too well what she's thinking.

She wants me.

I am standing here, as cocky as can be, and she is just eating it up.  If only there weren't seventeen other people in the room.  Well, four besides Donna and me, but that's still four too many.

"So, okay," CJ says, oblivious to the smoldering looks that Donna is shooting my way, "we know that Baker is involved in this up to his eyebrows, but that still doesn't prove that Tsolakis doesn't have a legitimate case.  Yes, the people financing her are shady, but they didn't exactly write a memo that says, 'Josh Lyman is a nice guy who didn't do anything wrong, but let's screw him anyway.'"

Donna quirks an eyebrow at CJ's choice of words, and I swear to God I need this office cleared out immediately.

But, being the amazing specimen I am, I manage to get in some substantive remarks.  "I would kill for that memo," I note.

"No one would write that memo, Josh," CJ answers.

I tear my gaze away from my wife.  "What's that mean?"

"A nice guy?" Toby answers skeptically.

"Hey!"  I protest, ignoring the appreciative snorts of laughter from the female occupants of the room.  "You're one to talk, Toby."

Toby dips his chin in acknowledgment.  "Difference is, I don't disagree with people who consider me a pain in the ass."

I draw myself up to my full height.  "Just because some people misunderstand my Master Politician facade--"

"Josh," Donna interrupts, rolling her eyes.  "Give it a rest."  I open my mouth to protest, but she turns to Sam and asks, "Is this enough to get the suit kicked?"

Sam and Toby exchange a glance, then Sam says, "No."

"Why not?" I demand.  "I mean, clearly this is a partisan attack--"

"Josh," Sam says, "Hernandez isn't going to kick it because the Republicans are paying Tsolakis' bills.  And at this point, I doubt even releasing this memo to the New York Times would convince Ann Stark to get Tsolakis to drop it.  In fact, refusing her deal probably cemented her desire to take us down."

Donna mutters, "Like her desire wasn't already, you know... cement-like."

I give her an amused look.  "I'm going to get you a thesaurus for your birthday."

"And I was planning on a palmcorder for you."  She gives a careless shrug.  "Oh, well."

I think my eyebrows are somewhere around my hairline, but I don't get a chance to respond.

CJ waves a hand around in between us.  "Concentrate!" she yells.  Then she turns to Sam and quite pleasantly prompts him.  "You were saying?"

"Stark wants Baker in the White House.  She knows by now that the memo's going to get found, so she has nothing left to lose.  Why drop the suit?"

Toby nods.  "Even if it never reveals any wrongdoing on your part, if this goes to trial -- which it looks like it will, at this point -- it's in the papers for six months."

"Exactly."  CJ picks up the thread.  "And you'll have all the Republicans in D.C. doing the rounds, preaching about family values and morality."

Donna nods, then asks, "So what do we need to win?"

Sam looks at her with eyes wide.  "The lawsuit?"

"Yes," Donna answers, unperturbed.  She is quite sexy when she's like this.

"Well," Sam says, "assuming, arguendo, that--"

"Arguendo?" I interrupt.

Donna snickers.

"For the sake of argument," Sam explains.  "Anyway, if we could convince Hernandez that Josh wouldn't have hired Phyllis Tsolakis in any case -- regardless of whether or not he had knowledge of her marital status -- then we could move for a summary judgment."

We all stare at him.  Donna asks the obvious question.  "Which means?"

"If Hernandez ruled in our favor, it would be an exoneration of sorts."

I begin to smile.  "Okay.  Let's do that."  I glance around.  "How do we do that?"

Sam sighs.  "That's the hard part.  We have to somehow prove you wouldn't have hired Phyllis Tsolakis."

"I wouldn't have."

"So you've said," Donna notes.

"My word isn't enough?" I ask angrily.

"Not in this case," Sam answers sadly.  "It's your word against hers, so..."

"Maybe if I repeat it enough times--"

"Hasn't worked so far," Toby interrupts.

"So basically?" I ask.

Toby sighs and looks at CJ, who bites her lip and glances over at Sam.  With a shrug, Sam turns his dejected gaze on Donna, who meets my eyes.

"Basically," she says, "we're screwed."

Okay, that is a very depressing way to look at the situation.

I shake it off.  "No," I say.  "We found the memo.  It's damaging enough.  This link between Baker and The Right Direction, plus the connection between Baker and Tsolakis?  It's the unholy trinity, and we are going to take them down."

"We're going to win," I say with a glance at my wife.  She's looking at me that way again.  "Now everyone get out of here."

CJ groans but herds Toby and Sam out of my office.

When I hear the door close, I grin down at Donna.  "Hi."

She sways closer to me.  "Hi."

I lean toward her slowly.  "See anything you like?"

Donna rolls her eyes.  "I've got to work."

I stand there, mouth agape, as she waltzes out of my office without a backward glance.  What happened to the irresistible allure of the Master Politician routine?

***

Okay, so I think I made a tactical error last night.  I should never have admitted how incredibly turned on I get when he does the whole Master Politician thing.  It shifts the balance of power in this relationship when he knows stuff like that.  You should have seen him in his office, practically leering at me in front of CJ, Sam and Toby, for the love of all that is holy!

I felt like I was a specimen in some sort of nature documentary on the Discovery Channel.  I could almost hear some announcer with hushed tones and a British accent:  "Here we see the rare Master Politician in his natural habitat.  Oblivious to the presence of outsiders, he preens for the benefit of his mate, employing his questionable appeal in hopes of convincing her of the necessity to win Texas.  His mate -- genus 'Smart-Mouthed Assistant' -- responds by mocking his display of machismo through her wit and her ability to exit a room at record speed.'"

I so have to keep my mind off how hot he is.  We have to find more evidence if we're going to exonerate ourselves.  What I need is an atmosphere with high levels of estrogen.  Thank God that Bonnie and Carol offered to help with The Search For Memos during lunch.  We concentrate on anything with a later date than the original memo, and within ninety minutes we find it -- a memo from an employee complaining about the pressure that was being put on him to donate to The Right Direction.

"We found another memo," I tell Josh.  I walk into his office this time; I do not run.  I am demonstrating my ability to remain professional and unperturbed in the face of his going all Master Politician on me again.  I am completely unaffected by that, as anyone can see by looking at me.

Damn, I'm a good actress.

Well, maybe not that good.  'Cause CJ's still in Josh's office and she's giving me that "Why the hell don't the two of you just get a room?" look.

"So what does this one say?" Josh asks.

I explain about Brian Makay, who wrote to Baker complaining about his employer expecting him to donate to a right-wing organization.

"Wait a minute," Josh says, "you mean a liberal was working for a strip mining company?"

"According to the memo," I explain, "Brain Makay was a Libertarian."

"Oh," Josh says, "a Republican who smokes pot."

"I wonder what happened to Mr. Makay," CJ says.

"It would be interesting to find out," Josh agrees.

"We couldn't be the ones to do it, of course," CJ points out.

"No, that would probably be a bad idea," Josh says.

CJ takes the memo.  "I'll just make a copy of this," she says.  "And, you know, while I'm copying it, maybe some enterprising reporter will come along to ask me a question and just happen to catch a glimpse at the memo."

"What are the chances of that happening?" Josh asks.

"Pretty good, I'd say," CJ tells him as she steps back into her office.  "Carol," I hear her say, "tell Katie I'd like to see her.  I'll be at the Xerox machine."

***

President Bartlet is an incredibly intelligent man and an engaging public speaker, but when he gets started on economics, he can put people to sleep faster than codeine with a Nyquil chaser.  Leo's and my five-minute meeting with the president on the Republican's budget proposal has turned into a twenty-minute soliloquy on how to best define a recession.

"Sir," Leo interrupts impatiently.

"Do you know why we use real GDP instead of nominal GDP?" President Bartlet asks.

Leo shoots me an eloquent look.  "Because the Fed Chair tells us to?" he answers sarcastically.

"Leo, using real GDP figures allows us to compare across years by holding the price index constant.  That way, we can see that the output of goods and services in the U.S. has grown about three percent per year since 1970.  Of course, that growth is on average; there have been periods of recession."

Margaret knocks on the doorjamb and motions to Leo, who gives her a grateful look and hastily departs.  I stand, intending to follow.

The president has other plans.  "Can you define a recession, Josh?"

Oh, here we go.  I shrug.  "When the stock market--"

"Josh," Bartlet gives me a pained look.  "A recession is defined by two or more consecutive quarters of falling real GDP."  He glances at the memo Donna put together for me on Gregory W. Baker's proposed tax cut.  "Which will not, I should add, be avoided by an irresponsible tax cut that disproportionately favors the rich."

"Yeah." I nod, trying to look like I understood that.  "I thought he said six months ago that the tax cut was a good idea because the economy was booming?"

"He did."

"But now the tax cut is a good idea because the economy is the opposite booming?"

"The opposite of booming?"

"Sir."

"You mean because the economy is slowing?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes," the President nods.  "Now Gregory W. is saying that the tax cut is a good idea because it'll help the slowing economy."

I am smirking now.  "So at some point, he was lying his ass off, right?"

"Right," he answers with the hint of a grin.

"Sir?" Leo says from his connecting door.  "Mind if I borrow him?"

Bartlet nods.  "Sure.  But only if you explain to him about the GDP deflator, Leo."

"I'll get right on that, sir."

I nod to the President and follow Leo into his office, where Margaret is standing.  Standing and grinning at me?

I give her an odd look.  "Hey, Margaret."

"Hello, Josh," she says, still smiling.  She hasn't smiled at me since she found out I married Donna.  This is definitely strange.

Leo nods to Margaret.  "Read that again."

Margaret nods and clears her throat.

"Wait a second," I interrupt.  "What are we reading?"

Leo glances at me.  "Let's see if you recognize it."

Margaret waits a moment, then starts to read.  "'My decision, while influenced, certainly, by my confidence in my current assistant, is based on the conversation we had two days ago.  Pursuant to that conversation, I interviewed all three candidates and took their relative strengths and weaknesses -- academic and professional -- into account before making my decision.  I am offering the job of my assistant to the most qualified candidate, Donnatella Moss, who--"

I cut Margaret off.  "Did I write that?"

Leo has that half-smile when he answers, "Yes."

"When I finished interviewing Phyllis Tsolakis and the other guy, I wrote a memo?"

"Yes," Leo nods again.

"I did?"

"Yes."

I grin at him.  "I am the smartest man alive, I swear to God."

"Sure you are, Josh," Leo snorts.  "Care to define the GDP deflator?"

I am unfazed by his words.  I am da man, baby!  I give Margaret my most charming grin.  "Can I see that?"

"No," she answers.

I stop grinning.  "Excuse me?"

"This is the original, Josh," she answers.  "I'll make you a copy, but I am walking this over to Lionel Tribbey right now."

"Oh," I nod.  "Good thinking."

***

I'm expecting "I was bored to death and I need entertaining, so banter with me" Josh.  I mean, he was in a meeting about economics with the president.  I've seen this phenomenon before; it's not a pretty sight.  If I don't have the banter ready, he will sulk.  And probably lock himself in his office and pretend he hasn't fallen asleep at his desk again.

I have prepared five essentially useless yet fascinating facts to present him with for precisely this moment, so when he stops at my desk, I'm ready.

"Did you know that the modern custom of--"

"Get CJ, Toby and Sam and come into my office now."

"Oh, God, what's happened?"

"You've married a genius, that's what's happened."

"Gee, that's strange.  I thought I married you."

He gives me his Arrogant Bastard Smirk.  And it's certainly a good thing I'm sitting down, because I go absolutely weak in the knees.  "I love you too."

Okay.  This is possibly a good sign.

Within three minutes, we're crowded into Josh's office, waiting some momentous announcement.  What we get is "I found a memo."

"Well, big deal, Josh," I point out, "I've found two memos today."

"But this memo--"

"I'm just saying that the ability to find a memo is not an unprecedented accomplishment.  And that if you found one memo, I still hold the record in this family.  So there."

"This memo is about you," he says.

"What?"

"I wrote a memo about you.  Right after I interviewed Phyllis Tsolakis."

"This could either be very good or very bad," CJ says.

"It's very good," Josh replies.  "It lists all the reasons Donna was the best candidate for the job and all the reasons the other candidates wouldn't have worked out."

"And I trust none of these reasons were of the 'she followed me home, can I keep her?' variety?" CJ asks.

"Hey!" I protest.

"I'm just saying," CJ replies, "that knowing Josh, he probably said all the wrong things."

"I did not," Josh says.  "You know why I didn't?  Because I'm a Master Politician."  Here he throws me a look that is clearly calculated to play to my stupidly announced susceptibility.  "I am a Master Politician," he repeats, "and I knew this day would come."

"You really didn't," Sam says.  "You were in my office just yesterday, going on about how you never saw this coming and how you'd ruined Donna's life."

"Sam!" Josh turns several different shades of red.  It's very cute.

"He did that?" I ask Sam.

"He did."

"Worried that he'd ruined my life?"

"That's what he said."

"I never," Josh says.

"Josh," I tell him, "that's a good thing.  You won't regret it."

"Oh, for the love of God," Toby says.  "Josh, give Sam the memo."

"Why would I give it to Sam?"

"Because he understands law better than you, you moron, and he'll be able to tell us whether it exonerates you," Toby explains.

Sam takes the memo, and we all spend several tense moments while Sam studies it.  "Well," Sam finally says, "this is extremely interesting."

"Why?" CJ asks.

"Well, mainly because it proves I was right," Sam says.  "These guys had subtext from the very beginning."

"Sam," CJ fairly screams, "does it prove that Josh is innocent of any wrongdoing or not?"

"You could make a very strong case for that," Sam says.  "But the subtext is much more interesting."

"We don't care about the damn subtext," Toby replies.

"I care!"  Do I need to mention that I'm the one saying that?  "Tell me about the subtext, Sam!"

Sam, of course, is more than happy to oblige.  "See this part?" he says.  "It starts 'Ms. Moss'--"

"Proper decorum," CJ muses.  "And, you know, this thing is going to become public knowledge, so for once I find myself agreeing with Ainsley Hayes."  She shakes her head.  "Now that is a scary thought."

Giving CJ a dirty look for dissing Ainsley, Sam continues to read.  "'Ms. Moss has proved herself to be a valuable--"

"Valuable?" I interrupt.  "He said valuable?  That sheet of paper says valuable?"

Sam looks down at the memo as though he thinks he must have misread it.  "Valuable, yes, that's what it says."

"Josh," I exclaim, "you said valuable."

"I'm sure I didn't mean anything by it.  I'm sure that when I wrote that memo, I'd completely forgotten about the other thing."

"What other thing?" CJ asks.

"Can we just get on with the reading?" Toby begs.

"Sorry," I say.  "It's just that 'valuable' -- it looms large in our legend."

Poor Sam tries to start again.  "'Ms. Moss has proved herself to be a valuable member of the staff.  She has a phenomenal capacity for detail--"

"The subtext there, in case anyone is interested, is that she drives me crazy with all the trivia," Josh says.

"The subtext here," I reply, "is that you might want to consider investing some of your next paycheck into the purchase of a comfortable sofabed."

"Would you two declare a moratorium on the banter until the rest of us find out what's in the damn memo?" Toby asks.  "For the sake of what is left of my sanity."

"Okay," Sam says, "but I have to point out that--"

"Please don't," Toby replies.

Sam gives him a hurt look.  "But we're missing all this great subtext."

"Oh, God," Josh says, "could we just sum it up?  It says that I hired Donna because of her skills, because she was already up to speed on the administration's goals and policies since she'd worked closely with me on the campaign--"

"That's bad," CJ says.

"It is?" I ask.

"Potentially.  Stark would spin it to say that Josh hired you because of the campaign.  She'd accuse him or cronyism.  At best.  She'd insinuate that you two were probably sleeping together during the campaign.  Unless -- Josh, please tell me you actually listed reasons you didn't hire Tsolakis.  You know, besides 'I'm in love with Donna, and I haven't figured it out yet.'"

Josh gives CJ quite the glare.  "I had excellent reasons for not hiring Phyllis Tsolakis, and they're listed in that memo."

"For instance?"

"Phyllis Tsolakis didn't know half as much about domestic policy as Donna did.  Her research skills didn't hold a candle to Donna's."  He shrugs.  "It's all in the memo.  Donna was the most qualified candidate."

"So?" I ask CJ.  "Is that enough?"

"Well," CJ says, "they may try to make something out of Sam's precious subtext, but I don't see how they can get very far.  We've got a memo, written the day of the interview, listing all your qualifications and Phyllis Tsolakis' shortcomings.  They've got Tsolakis' vague allegations; we've got the evidence from her deposition.  And, of course, we've got those two memos about Baker, which he's not going to be eager to have the press jump on.  And, by the way, Katie's story about Pettus Creek Coal and The Right Direction will be hitting the newsstands in the morning."

"So we win?" Josh asks.

"In terms of public opinion," CJ says, "I think we definitely win.  In terms of law--"  She looks around, waiting for any one of the three lawyers in the room to tell us we've won.  "Guys?"

***

I stare at CJ blankly.  Surely she doesn't want me to comment on the legal ramifications of this memo.  Not that I would be able to even if she did want me to.  Clearly, she's referring to Sam.

I glance over at him, but he's still studying the memo, brow furrowed.  "Sam?"

Sam makes a noncommittal noise, then smiles at the document in his hands.

"Sam!" I reach over and whack him in the arm.

"Ouch!" he yelps, glancing up.  "What was that for?"

"For you being a yutz."

"I am not being a yutz, Josh," he protests.  "And for once, you weren't being one, either.  Donna, did you know that Josh said you were--"

"Sam!" I interrupt.  "Quit it!"

"I'm just saying, the subtext is quite interesting."

Donna leans toward him.  "I'm going to want a copy of that."

Toby glares at Sam.  "What about the actual, you know, text?  Does it get us out of trouble or not?"

"Oh," Sam nods.  "You mean legally?"

"No, Sam," CJ answers sarcastically.  "We were hoping you'd address whether or not Leo was keeping us after school for passing notes in class."

Sam stares at her.  "I was just asking, CJ, and--"

"Sam," Donna interrupts, taking his arm.  "Is this memo enough to get the case kicked?"

"No," Sam answers promptly.

"Why not?"

"Well," he explains, "we can't get it kicked at this point."

I nod.  "We don't want it kicked at this point."

Donna glances at me.  "Because we want a judge to rule in our favor."

"Right."

"So?" she asks, looking to Sam.

He skims the document again.  "You know," he looks up with a smile, "we just might be able to do this now."

I stare at him.  "Really?"

"Yes," he nods.

"Really?" I repeat.

"Yes, Josh," Sam laughs.  "You did good, buddy."

I smirk at Donna.  "'Cause I am--"

"Did your mother never tell you about too much of a good thing?" she answers.

"Kids!" CJ interjects.  "Shut up.  Sam, what do we do next?  File something, I assume?"

"Yes," he smiles.  "We're going to file a motion for summary judgment under Federal Civil Procedure Rule 56."

I blink at him.  "Which means that we're asking the judge to rule in our favor, because the pre-trial discovery has proven that Phyllis Tsolakis' case is unfounded?"

Donna looks impressed.

"Pretty much," Sam nods.  "We're going to argue that the record -- and by that I mean the depositions, and the memo -- resolves the dispute.  In other words, we've got significant evidence to support our position that her claim of discrimination is unfounded -- specifically, that the subject of her marital status came up conversationally, and that Josh wouldn't have hired her either way.  And since there is no genuine issue of material fact because Josh clearly didn't violate Title VII," he turns to me, "you're entitled to a judgment."

CJ nods.  "Okay.  Sounds good to me."

Toby narrows his eyes.  "Why didn't we do this before?"

"What do you mean?"

"Before.  When we deposed Phyllis Tsolakis.  Why not file then?"

"For summary judgment?" Sam asks.  "We didn't have enough.  Since Josh would have been the one bringing the motion for summary judgment, he would have the burden to prove that there are no facts in dispute.  If we'd filed without this memo he wrote, we wouldn't have been able to prove that he wouldn't have hired her.  With this memo," he grins in my direction, "we've got a really good chance to win this."

I grin at Donna.  "Excellent.  I always knew we would win this."

CJ rolls her eyes.  "What are we talking, timewise?  When can we file?"

"As soon as Tribbey can write up the motion," Sam answers.  "And then there's a ten day wait for--"

"What?" Donna yelps.  "Ten days?  We have to wait ten days for -- What are we waiting for?"

"The hearing," Toby answers.  "We have to give the other side time to respond."

"And that," Sam says, rubbing his hands together, "is the good part."

I shoot him a look.  "Giving the other side time to respond is the good part?"

"Yes," he answers.  "Well, no.  But in this case, yes!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"We've disproven their allegations," he explains gleefully.  "The only way they can get Hernandez to rule in their favor is to provide further proof -- say, something damaging in your deposition or a document that was discovered in pre-trial."

I give him a worried look.  "And they can't do that?"

"No," Sam grins.  "There was nothing discovered, because you did nothing wrong."

"Oh," I say.  "Okay."

"So I'm going to bring this to Tribbey," Sam says.

"Margaret's got that covered," I say.

"Oh," Sam answers.  "Well, then I'll go discuss this with him."

"I have many, many things I need to be doing," Toby says, giving me a small, approving nod on his way.

CJ smiles crookedly at me.  "Not bad, mi amor."

"Thank you," I say.  "I am, after all--"

"Josh," Donna sighs.  "Please stop it."

CJ laughs and departs.

I look over at Donna.  "Okay, so what do we do now?"

She shrugs.  "We wait."

I glance around the room for a moment, then focus back on her.  "Have I mentioned that I'm somewhat impatient?"

Donna rolls her eyes.  "Really.  I hadn't noticed."

***

I have married an impatient man.

My husband is an impatient man.

For the past ten days, I have done everything I can think of to keep Josh from freaking out as we wait for Judge Hernandez to issue the ruling that will determine our future.  In the office, I have bantered and spouted so much trivia that I finally have run out of useless facts with which to entertain Josh.  At home -- Well, let's say that I've been extremely creative at home and leave it at that.  If Josh is losing sleep, it's not because he's staying up all night worrying.  In fact, when he sleeps these days, he sleeps quite soundly.

I am da woman!

The highlight (other than my inventiveness in the bedroom -- also occasionally the living room and, one memorable night, the kitchen) is the fallout from Katie's series about Baker's connection to The Right Direction.  After Katie's third story -- about Brian Makay and the memos -- Baker's office calls a press conference.  Josh, CJ, Sam, Toby and I gather anxiously in CJ's office to hear what he has to say.

"Interesting," CJ mumbles.

"What's so interesting?" Sam asks.  "He hasn't said a word yet."

"It's the visuals that intrigue me," CJ explains.  "Look--"  She points toward the left side of the screen.  "There's Stark.  Baker's distanced himself as far as possible from his senior aide."

"She's taking the fall," Josh says.  "I told her he'd make her take the fall."

I pat him on the shoulder.  "Of course you did.  For you are the Master Politician.  You know all, see all--"

"Quiet, you two," CJ says.  "Baker's going to speak."

Gregory W. Baker is, physically, pretty much what you'd expect: the regulation haircut that's meant to give him a military bearing (he used his family's connections to get a deferment during Vietnam), the vapid stare that suggests too many generations of inbreeding, and a certain compulsive wringing of his hands that suggests nervousness, guilt or both.

"First, I would like to--"

"Apologize to Donnatella Moss-Lyman for dragging her name through the mud?" Josh suggests.

Baker, of course, does not even mention our names.  He apologizes to the American public for his "unwitting" lapse in judgment.  "First, I would like to point out--"

"That's the second time he's said first," Toby observes.  "You can't have two firsts, moron."

"That although this memo did originate from my office, I did not write the memo, nor did I sign it.  What appears to be my signature was affixed to the memo using an autopen."

"He's lying," Josh says.

"Why?  Did he flinch?" I ask.

"No, I just know he's lying."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

I shrug.  "Who am I to argue with the Master Politician?"

"That is so not what you said last night."

"Guys!" CJ says.

"The memo appears to have been written by my senior aide, Ann Stark," Baker goes on.  "It was a well meaning, if misguided, attempt to support the goals of an organization which represents the family values which have made this nation great and which I hope to see reestablished after the next presidential election."

"Listen to that twisted sentence and tell me he didn't write that memo himself," Toby mutters.

"As for Ms. Stark, my first impulse was to fire her for this critical lapse in judgment."

"Oh, please," I mutter, "go with your first impulse."

"She flinched again," Josh notes.

"Yeah, I saw her this time," CJ agrees.

"That was a definite flinch," Toby says.

"Maybe she just has some kind of medical condition," Sam suggests.

"However," Baker continues, "after thinking the matter over thoroughly, and after extensive prayer, I have been guided to this conclusion:  Ms. Stark is young and eager and--"

"A whole lot smarter than you cause she told you not to do it," Josh says.

"I have decided to show her Christian forgiveness and give her one more chance.  So while my office issues a public apology to any employees of Pettus Creek Coal who may have been offended by the memo--"

"Do they issue refunds for the money people were forced to donate?" I wonder.

"Ms. Stark will be staying on my staff for the time being, although her duties will be cut back.  As for the allegations that I am somehow behind the lawsuit brought against President Bartlet's Deputy Chief of Staff--"

"Notice how he worked the president's name in there," CJ says.

"There is absolutely no truth to those stories.  I was as surprised as anyone to discover that the plaintiff had a distant, and very tenuous, connection to a friend of my wife's from her college days.  I know nothing about the lawsuit beyond the disturbing allegations against Joshua Lyman that I have read in the papers."

"Liar," I mutter.

"So I guess we don't have to worry about Ann Stark anymore, huh?" Sam asks.

"Are you kidding?" Josh asks.  "She'll be a bigger threat than ever."

"But Baker said--" I begin.

"What is he going to say?" Josh asks.  "'It's all her fault, but I'm not going to punish her'?  She'll keep a lower profile for a while, but she'll still be calling the shots behind the scene.  Baker needs her.  If he'd listened to her in the first place, he wouldn't have landed in this mess."

"She'll be more of a threat to us than ever," Toby agrees.  "We're responsible for her being publicly humiliated.  She'll be out to get even."

"I can see it now," CJ says.  She goes into this movie announcer voice.  "Ann Stark's back, and this time it's personal."

"This is serious, CJ," Toby replies.

"People usually say that to me," Josh mutters.

"I know it's serious, Toby," CJ says.  "But, hell, we kicked her ass this time, we'll kick her ass again."

"Right," I say.  "'Cause, you know, we have our very own Master Politician."

Josh puts an arm around me . "You really want me right now, don't you?" he whispers.

I give him what I hope is my skeptical face, but it's a little hard to judge.  Seeing as how I really want him right now and all.

***

In the grand scheme of things, patience is right up there with modesty and tact on Donna's List of Things of Which Josh Is Desperately In Need.  I think ATMs are incredibly slow; I will drive across town to another McDonald's if there are more than two cars waiting; Donna has threatened to drag me to Victoria's Secret if I don't stop tearing her undergarments in my haste to remove them from her sleek, alabaster skin.

That last one I attribute more to lust than impatience.  My wife is, after all, incredibly hot.

Speaking of which, Donna's List of Ways To Keep Josh's Mind Otherwise Occupied has pretty much been narrowed to one item: lots of sex.  Or so she claims -- I just think she can't keep her hands off of the Master Politician.

Aside from all the sex, though, this waiting thing, in a word, sucks.

It was bad enough when we had a specific time frame.  Phyllis Tsolakis and her lawyers got ten days to prepare a response to our motion for summary judgment before Hernandez held a hearing.  At which point, I assumed, we would get an immediate ruling.  Instead, we're in the seventh circle of waiting.  Hernandez heard both sides and is now, according to Sam, reviewing case law to support his decision.  Because he can't afford to screw up when the defendant is an employee of the White House.

All of which means -- we have no idea when he'll rule.  Could be in five minutes, could be a month from now.  And can I just say that if it does take a month, I will not be responsible for my actions?

The case is entirely out of our hands.  All the relevant forms are filed, the arguments have been made, and all we can do is wait.

Have I mentioned I loathe inaction of any kind?  And waiting certainly qualifies as inaction.

My only solace is remembering the press conference.

Ah, yes, I am a cruel, cruel man.  But really -- I warned Ann Stark that Baker would make her take the fall.  She should've listened to me, for I am...

Yeah, I know.  I'm getting sick of it too.  Makes me kind of self-conscious.  Except when Donna's in the room; then it just makes me hot.

Or that could be a byproduct of all the sex.

What was I saying?

Ah, the press conference.

Ann Stark, humiliated.

If she hadn't been such a bitch to my wife, I might actually feel sorry for her.  I mean, when you think about it, Ann Stark is getting royally screwed.  She told him not to do it.  Oh, she won't admit it, but I could tell.  She told Baker exactly what would happen and he ignored her.  And because this is politics, she's the one getting screwed.

Like I said, I could almost feel sorry for her.  You know, if she hadn't set in motion a frivolous lawsuit that still might cost me my job.  I'm not quite that magnanimous.

Instead, I delight in the memory of Ann Stark apologizing to the nation.  She was apologizing for the wrong thing, but hey, it's a start.

We gathered in CJ's office to watch, and it was just... delicious.  First, Baker stood up there and denied any involvement and basically did the self-righteous thing.  That part pisses me off.

Then comes the moment of truth.

Ann Stark steps up the lecturn and nods at the crowd.

"Where's that heinous fur coat?" Donna asks.

"Wouldn't work with the image," CJ answers.  "She's doing the whole 'man of the people' thing today.  Check out that hairdo!"

Her hair is, as far as I can tell, pulled back into some sort of barrette-type girlie thing.  I have no idea how that's a 'man of the people' thing, but I choose not to ask.

"And that beige suit," Donna continues.  "Could she be less flashy if she tried?"

Toby gives them an annoyed look.  "Could you be less loud if you try really hard?"

"Less loud?" Sam echoes, grinning.

"Shut up," Toby says, his tone conversational.

"I'm here today," Ann Stark begins, "to apologize for my actions, which were misguided at best."

"And now she's repeating her illiterate boss," Toby mutters.

"Well," I shrug, "both of their actions were misguided."

Toby gives me a pained look, but refrains from commenting on my questionable grammar.

Ann Stark continues.  "It was never my intention to coerce the employees of Pettus Creek Co