"Third."

"Second."

"Third, I tell you, and we'll be lucky to get it."

"Toby Ziegler, voice of doom."

"Sam Seaborn, personification of political naiveté."

"Would you two idiots be quiet?  Donna and I are trying to work here."

"But the working portion of the evening is over, CJ.  The polls have closed."

"I'm well aware of when the polls close, Sparky.  But for those of us working with the media, the night is just beginning.  Donna's got reporters calling every three minutes, I've got to make sure things are set up for the Governor's speech after the returns are announced, we have to be ready to spin second or third place into an upset victory for our side, and what the hell is Josh doing over there?"

At the mention of Josh's name, Donna glanced up from her notes and looked across the room.  Josh was standing, eyes closed, with his back pressed against the wall.

"He's standing with his back pressed against the wall," she told CJ.

"Yes, I'm wearing my contacts; I can see where he's standing.  What I want to know is why the hell he's doing it."

"It's a relaxation technique."

"Standing with his back against the wall relaxes him?"

"It's supposed to, yes."

"How?"

"It -- You know, I honestly have no idea.  But he's been doing it ever since, you know, that Christmas, so it must be effective."

"Just because my eyes are closed doesn't mean I can't hear you.  Do you have to talk about me like I'm not in the room?"

Donna considered the question for a moment.  "Yes, Josh, we do."

"No, Donna, you really don't," Josh replied, still not opening his eyes.

"So standing against the wall like that is supposed to relax you?" CJ repeated.

"Yes."

"And does it work?"

"Hasn't yet."

"Then why do you keep doing it?" CJ asked.

"Because I spent a hell of a lot of money on the damn therapy and I therefore feel compelled to follow my doctor's advice."

Donna paused midway through dialing the reporter from the Boston Globe.  "This would be the same doctor who told you to keep up your physical therapy?" she inquired.

"Yes."

"And have you done that?"

"Have you been talking to my mother again?"

"I'm taking your refusal to answer my question as a no."

Josh finally opened his eyes and smiled at her.  "In case you hadn't noticed, I've been kind of busy for the last few weeks, Donnatella."

Well, she thought, this is new.  When did I become Donnatella again?  And should I let him get away with it?

She had no ready answer because, despite Josh's spontaneous declaration at the Bartlets' party, she was no more certain where their relationship was headed than she had been when she left California.  On the plus side, she could tell that Josh was making a sincere effort not to treat her as though she was still his assistant.  But on the minus side, he had avoided any discussion of where they were headed personally.  He was, in fact, avoiding spending any time alone with her.  The few times she had tried to confront him on the issue, he had muttered something vague and left the room with alarming speed.  It was possible, she reflected, that he regretted having declared his love for her at the party.

It was possible that he'd been carried away by another wave of nostalgia and didn't want to be responsible for breaking her heart again.

It was also possible that she'd break his kneecaps if he tried to avoid her again.  CJ, she told herself, was one hell of a role model.

"Guys," Sam said, "I think they're about to announce the returns."

CJ moved toward where Sam and Toby sat huddled in front of one the room's three TV screens.  Donna put down the phone and slowly walked to where Josh stood apart from the various groups that had gathered to await the returns.

Her eyes focused on the TV screen, Donna reached for Josh's hand.

Most people watching the election coverage, she thought, were probably unsurprised by the results.  Senator Mark Haskell, after all, had won, just as the pundits had predicted.  But the political junkies would definitely have something to obsess over between now and Delaware.  Because Governor Susan Douglas-Radford, who the experts maintained would be lucky to finish third, had just come in second with more than thirty percent of the vote.

Amid the general cheering and pandemonium that had erupted in the Governor's hotel suite, hardly anyone noticed the smile that broke out on Josh's face.  No one would have found it particularly surprising that Susan Douglas-Radford's campaign manager took this moment to wrap the press secretary in a fierce hug, nor would they have questioned the campaign manager's decision to spin the press secretary around the room in an impromptu dance.  It was only the press secretary herself who, before falling into bed alone five hours later, would question any of what had happened.

And then her question was simple:  "Why the hell didn't he kiss me?"

***

CJ jerked awake at the sound of something thumping against the door.  With a tortured groan, she peeled open one eye to look at the clock.  Just after seven.  And of course she'd gone to bed around four, after the impromptu strong-second-in-the-first-primary party had mostly died down.

More thumping.

CJ glared briefly in Evan's direction -- predictably, he hadn't even been disturbed by the knocking, the bastard -- and rolled out of bed.  She muttered something even she couldn't have understood about age and emergencies and creative ways to kill whoever was on the other side of the door.

Then she crouched down to peer out the peephole.  Donna paced in small circles outside the door, which could mean only one thing.  Well, two things, really, but she didn't look mussed enough for option number two.  CJ assumed, therefore, that it was a press thing.  She leaned her head against the wood and whimpered as she undid the locks.

"Tell me you're making a coffee run and that nothing bad has happened," CJ demanded.  Donna raised an imperious eyebrow and CJ sighed.  "Who picked it up?"

"Chicago Sun-Times," Donna answered.  "Above the fold, right under the numbers from the New Hampshire primary, as a matter of fact."

"Your room?" CJ surmised, her mind clicking into gear.

"Yes.  I woke up Sam, and I'm on my way to get Josh."

"Give me twenty minutes," CJ said with a brisk nod.  She showered, donned khakis and a sweater (there were some aspects of being a behind-the-scenes player instead of the public face of an organization that CJ very much enjoyed), and knocked on Donna's door.

Sam answered, ushering her in with "Josh is going to flip."

"Why?"

Sam actually cackled as he replied, "The story's bogus, of course, but the delicious part is that it describes Josh as an 'aging boy wonder.'"

"Ouch," CJ winced in sympathy.  Then she thought about it, and her grin matched Sam's.  "Is he here yet?"

Sam shook his head.  "He's in the shower.  I left a message for Toby, but--"

"He's in South Carolina." CJ glanced at her watch.

Donna appeared, snapping her cell phone shut with a great deal of vigor.  "Their high-level source is 'unimpeachable,' they won't retract until we provide proof, and I've had calls from most of the majors on the East Coast for tomorrow, plus online and television media."

CJ sighed.  "Central and West Coast papers will be calling as soon as they get into their offices.  What's the deal so far?"

Sam and Donna exchanged looks, then Donna shrugged and said, "Drug charges."

CJ's eyebrows jumped.  "Drug charges?"

***

"Drug charges?" Josh repeated, incredulous.  His hair was still damp, his clothes were not yet rumpled, and he was working on very little sleep.  He figured he must have heard wrong.  "They said her arrest was for drugs?"

"Yes."  Donna reached behind her and tossed a paper in his general direction, still focused on her debate with Sam over wording for the Governor's inevitable statement on the issue.

Josh tuned them out and studied the paper.  The headline read: Bartlet's Gang of Four for Douglas-Radford; Former Staffers of Ailing Ex-President Rally Behind Female Candidate.

The story went downhill from there, citing unnamed, high-level sources inside the campaign that "aging boy wonder Josh Lyman" had reassembled his trusted inner circle because he knew he could count on them to bury Douglas-Radford's arrest on drug charges.  The implication being, of course, that if Josh could pull off Bartlet's concealing of his illness, he could certainly handle a measly drug charge from 1969.

"This is bullshit," Josh exploded.

"No kidding," Donna grimaced.  "But it revives the specter of drug abuse in the Bartlet White House."

"Damn that Lillianfield," CJ muttered, and Sam gave her an appreciative nod.

"And there's enough truth in the story to give the Sun-Times deniability," Donna pointed out.

"Truth my ass!" Josh bellowed.

"She was arrested."

"Along with two hundred other people.  They were marching on campus with candles singing Give Peace a Chance, for the love of all that is holy.  Those arrests were totally bogus."

"Doesn't matter," Sam pointed out.  "They'll print a retraction on page seventy-four, but the image of the Governor as a pot-smoking hippie will already be out there in people's minds."

"That'll really help with her image problems," CJ noted grimly.  "People are already taking her less seriously because she's a woman; now she's a female pothead.  We might as well go home."

"She's being taken less seriously because the press is taking her less seriously," Donna said.  "Have you looked at the difference in coverage of her campaign stops?"

CJ jumped in, mimicking the nightly coverage, "'Governor Douglas-Radford wore a maroon suitjacket with a brightly colored scarf as she addressed the modest crowd outside the Piggly Wiggly in Nowhere, South Dakota.  In the state capitol, Senator Mark Haskell discussed the U.S. trade embargo against Cuba during a town hall meeting.'  It's like a damn fashion column."

"Well," Sam grinned, turning to Donna, "at least you'll have plenty of data for your thesis."

Donna rolled her eyes.

Josh just stared at them in disbelief.  "What are we doing about this?"

"Strongly worded rebuttal--"

"Wait -- why didn't they call us for a comment?" Josh interrupted, frowning.

Donna glanced away, her mouth drawn in a tight line.

"What?" Josh demanded.

"Did you read the whole story?" Sam asked.

"No."

"It's implied that..."  Sam glanced at Donna for help.

"It's implied that certain people in positions of relative importance got their jobs through some form of cronyism."

Josh bit back his first, instinctive response.  "Cronyism?  Or the political equivalent of the casting couch?"

"What would the political equivalent of the casting couch be, anyway?" Sam wondered.

Josh shot him a scathing look.

"Shutting up."

"This is the Sun-Times we're talking about, Josh, not the London Daily Mirror.  They didn't go that far."

Josh scrubbed one hand over his face. "Okay.  We'll deal with the staff issues later.  Who's got this tomorrow?"

Donna sighed.  "I've had calls from the East Coast majors and some central, the networks, CNN, MSNBC, plus some right-wing rags."

Josh chewed on that for a moment.  Admitting a weakness, even decades old, was politically risky.  But the endless polls after President Bartlet's fall from grace had all drawn the same conclusions -- it wasn't the illness itself that so disturbed the people; it was the willful cover-up.

What a wake-up call for the denizens of the Beltway.  For so long Washington had operated as though the great, faceless group called The American People couldn't handle the truth when in fact they couldn't abide the lengths to which politicians went to conceal the truth.  So Josh and Douglas-Radford had made a pact in those first, heady days of her gubernatorial campaign:  Answer every question honestly.

So Josh took a deep breath and said, "The Governor needs to hold a press conference."

"Josh," Donna said, shaking her head, "if she goes up there and denies that she was arrested on drug charges, the first follow-up is going to be 'Did you use drugs in the sixties?'"

"Everybody used drugs in the sixties," Josh pointed out.  "So she admits it."

CJ stared at him.  "She's a presidential candidate, Josh.  She can't admit it."

"Yes, she can," Josh declared, looking at each of them in turn.  "I don't even know if she did use drugs.  But if she did and she gets the question, she's going to answer it.  I learned my lesson the hard way, but I did learn it.  No lies, no cover-ups."

"Josh," Sam said, shaking his head, "that could be disastrous."

Josh ignored him.  "Donna, you can work with the Governor on her answer, but I don't want to hear 'I didn't inhale' or some such bullshit."

"Josh--"

"I know, CJ; the question's irrelevant," Josh interrupted.  "The press has no right to ask about something she may or may not have done thirty years ago, but they're going to."

"I know," she answered testily.  "I'm saying she needs to point out the irrelevancy, say that it's inappropriate--"

Josh looked to Donna.  "Donna?"

She held his gaze for a long moment, then glanced at Sam.  "Can you write something?"

"Got it," he said, retreating to the corner.

Josh, CJ and Donna looked at each other, a little bit in awe of what they were about to do.

"Wow," Donna said finally.  "This is..."

"New," CJ supplied.

Josh nodded.  "Yeah."

CJ gnawed on her lip for a moment, then voiced what they were all thinking.  "Is this going to cost us the nomination?"

***

CJ could tell that Toni Timian was furious.  Her eyes narrowed, her hands balled into tight fists, Toni was clearly on the verge of exploding.  CJ could understand Toni's wrath; under different circumstances, she might even have sympathized.  Considering what they'd just learned, however, CJ thought that it was the campaign staff who had the greater claim to righteous indignation.

"So what you're telling me," an incredulous Donna said to Toni, "is that, for whatever reason, the Sun-Times reporter called the Governor's office in Pennsylvania rather than contacting me.  The press secretary."

"The campaign press secretary," Toni replied.  "The Governor, of course, had a press secretary long before this.  As the story about the drug charges was not directly related to the presidential campaign, Carrie decided to handle it herself.  I'll grant you that it was a pretty big tactical error, and I've already admonished her."

"Gee, thanks," Donna muttered.  "I feel better already."  The amount of sarcasm in her voice would have done Josh justice.  My little girl's all grown up, CJ thought proudly.

"The issue of blame is beside the point at this moment," Toni said.  "What we need to discuss now is this half-baked scheme you people have concocted to counter the Sun-Times article."

"That story," Sam said, "implied certain things about members of the campaign staff.  So you'll forgive us if we take it a little personally."

"I'd think you'd all be used to those allegations by now," Toni replied.

"Not when they come from the people we're supposed to be working for," Josh said.  "And not when they imply -- Ow!"

CJ smiled despite herself.  She'd forgotten about Donna's habit of kicking Josh under the table before he stuck his foot in his mouth.

"Look, Toni," Donna said, "the news was supposed to be that the Governor did much better than expected in New Hampshire.  We're being weakened right out of the gate because someone in your office screwed up by making comments that disparaged the campaign staff.  It takes the focus off the Governor and the issues and places it back on a so-called scandal that was old news three years ago.  If I'd had a chance to talk to this reporter before the story ran--"

"You could have done what?  Denied everything about the five of you in that article?  Face it, the article raised some valid points."

"Maybe," CJ conceded with a grin, "but the boy wonder can't help it if he's aging."

"I wonder sometimes whether this campaign really matters to all of you or whether it's just a way to hold your class reunion," Toni said.  She sounded so bitter that CJ wondered momentarily how long this had been festering.  And whether Toni's resentment was her own or whether it represented a wider point of view within Governor Douglas-Radford's organization.  "You come in here as your own little clique -- The Cult of Bartlet."

"Hey!" Sam protested.

Toni ignored him and continued.  "My God, you people even have your own language.  And you don't listen to any suggestions from the people who actually know Susan Douglas-Radford and who were working with her on the important issues while you were all trying to avoid jail time for lying to the American people."

"Toni," Josh said quietly, "you really don't want to go there with me."

He was, CJ reflected, much too calm.  When Josh got that quiet, steely tone to his voice, only a fool would cross him.  If she hadn't been so pissed off herself, she might have warned Toni.

"I'm simply telling you how it all looks to my staff.  You don't want our input--"

"Toni," Sam, ever the peacemaker, interrupted.  "It's not that we don't care.  But we're the ones with experience at running a national campaign."

"And you're so good at it too," Toni scoffed.  "That would explain why the Republicans took the White House.  Face it.  You all come with this baggage attached."

"Funny," Josh said, "you didn't mind our baggage when it bought you President Bartlet's endorsement."

"A former president who avoided impeachment only because people were worried that the strain would kill him.  Yeah," Toni answered, "that's really useful."

"We never would have finished so high in New Hampshire without that endorsement," Josh pointed out.  "You should try looking at numbers other than the Governor's some time.  The American people realize what they lost when President Bartlet left office.  His approval rating is higher now than it was at any time during his presidency.  The public rightly judges him as a courageous man who has fought some overwhelming personal battles and who still has found time for public service during his retirement.  Compared to Baker and his month-long vacations, President Bartlet looks pretty damn good.  New Hampshire isn't the only state where his endorsement will help us.  In fact, New Hampshire is notorious for being the most conservative state in New England.  Hell, it was the only New England state that didn't go to Hoynes in 2002.  If a liberal candidate--"

"A liberal female candidate," Donna interjected.

"Exactly," Josh said.  "If a liberal female candidate can finish this well in New Hampshire, there's an excellent chance that she'll take the rest of New England."

"Especially the more populous states like Connecticut and Massachusetts," Sam added.  "More people, more electoral votes."

"And she would never have gotten the kind of media attention that helped her finish second if Josiah Bartlet hadn't endorsed her," CJ said.

"Still," Toni repeated, apparently unwilling to concede their points, "that article raised some valid points.  For one thing, the Governor has an experienced press secretary back home."

"Yes," CJ said, before Josh could jump in and say something they would all regret.  "We noticed the stellar job she did yesterday."

Toni at least had the decency to nod in agreement.  "She made a serious error; I'll grant you that.  But I can understand her motivation.  It can't be easy having your place usurped by someone who used to fetch coffee for the campaign manager."

The fact that they didn't all laugh at the idea of Donna fetching coffee, CJ thought, probably indicated just how frayed everyone's nerves were.

Predictably, Donna was the first to recover and address Toni's charge.  "I didn't get this job because I used to work for Josh," she said.  "And I certainly didn't get it because -- Well, what that article implied isn't true.  The Governor interviewed me--"

"After Josh suggested it," Toni said.

Donna conceded the point.  "After Josh suggested it," she said, "based on my performance as a spokesperson for the Feminist Majority.  Not based on my old job as his assistant.  So if you have any qualms about my ability to do this job, maybe you should take those up with the Governor."

And right on cue, CJ noted, Susan Douglas-Radford walked into the room.

"Take what up with the Governor?" the candidate asked.

***

Jed Bartlet awoke at the absurd hour of six o'clock, still unable, even three years later, to convince his internal clock that he was no longer responsible for the future of the free world and could occasionally sleep until the luxurious and decadent hour of eight.  Abbey, who'd never been what he'd call a morning person, slumbered on beside him, her face buried in the pillow.  He touched her hand briefly, then groaned as he pulled himself out of bed.

He made his way down the hall, silent save for the ancient floorboards' customary protests, and poured himself a cup of coffee.  He settled in front of the TV and grabbed the remote.

It was the Bartlet household, after all, and so the TV was already tuned to Headline News.  Bartlet's brief moment of amusement fled as he watched the story on Governor Douglas-Radford.

"Oh, God," he groaned as he reached for the phone.

Leo answered on the first ring.  "I'm watching."

"This is ridiculous, Leo," Bartlet announced.  "Do these so-called experts really think she would have made it through five elections to the House of Representatives, never mind her narrow gubernatorial win, with a drug arrest in her past?"

"Welcome to the post-Healthgate brand of Sensationalize Now, Ask Questions Later journalism," Leo answered acerbically.

Bartlet gave an appreciative snort, then said, "You should call Josh."

"Excuse me?"

"Josh Lyman," Bartlet repeated, grinning.  "Early forties, arrogant Jewish fellow.  Used to work for us."

"Very funny, Mr. President."

"Jed."

"Whatever, sir.  Josh can handle this himself."

"Sure, but you could suggest--"

"Yes, sir, because I'm sure that would go over well," Leo interrupted.  "I've talked to the kid once in the last three years and I call him up to offer political advice?"

Bartlet frowned at the TV, where a young, conservative Democratic talking head was lambasting Douglas-Radford's "irresponsible past."  "Josh wouldn't resent your advice, Leo.  He looks up to you."

"He shouldn't," Leo said, his tone less brusque than usual.

"Leo--"

"Besides, he's more than capable of handling this on his own."

Bartlet smiled.  If only Josh himself were around to hear such high praise from his mentor.  "What would you do?"

Leo was quiet for a moment.  "I'd call a press conference as soon as possible and have the Governor set the record straight about the arrest--"

"Wait -- She really was arrested?"

"You don't remember that mug shot?"

Bartlet blinked.  "Mug shot?  There's a mug shot out there?"

"Yes," Leo answered, and Bartlet could tell he was smirking.  "It's almost as embarrassing as that shot of you in the Notre Dame yearbook--"

"Do I need to dig out your Air Force portrait there, Flyboy?"  Bartlet focused for a moment on the TV, where the anchor announced that Douglas-Radford's press secretary Donna Moss had called a press conference for 1 p.m. to address what she characterized as malicious and patently false allegations.  Bartlet grinned outright, delighted by the idea of that timid girl from his own campaign having blossomed into this woman willing to challenge CNN.  "Them's fightin' words," he murmured.

"Excuse me, sir?" Leo asked.

"Jed," Bartlet corrected automatically.

"Whatever, sir," Leo replied.  "Did Donna just call a press conference?"

Bartlet didn't comment on the note of pride in Leo's voice, but he suspected Leo's thoughts on Donna's transformation mirrored his own.  "Yes.  One o'clock.  Should I tell Abbey to set an extra place?"

"Sure," Leo answered cheerfully.  "Just make sure you wait until I get there to tell her so that I can watch her give you the tongue-lashing that will no doubt follow."

***

Susan Douglas-Radford looked around the room, uneasy with the tension radiating almost incandescently between her loyal but sometimes-overzealous Chief of Staff and her brilliant but somewhat defensive campaign staff.  Infighting, she thought.  And so it starts.

"Governor," Donna said, standing up and moving toward her.  "We've got a problem."

"Thanks to Carrie," Josh muttered.

Douglas-Radford suppressed a grin at the poisonous look Donna tossed his way, then braced herself for bad news.  "What happened?"

"The Chicago Sun-Times ran an article alleging that your arrest in 1969 was for drugs."

Susan Douglas-Radford was an experienced politician.  She'd served six years in Pennsylvania's state senate, ten years in the U.S. House of Representatives, and two years as the Governor of Pennsylvania.  She'd perfected her poker face.  This, however, caught her completely by surprise.

When she finally stopped laughing and wiped the tears from her cheeks, she beamed at the astonished faces staring back.  "That's all they could come up with?"

CJ's eyebrows inched towards the ceiling.  "Excuse me?"

Douglas-Radford shrugged.  "It was the sixties."

Josh blinked a few times.  "Governor--"

"Come on, Josh," she grinned.  "You should be jumping for joy that they didn't try to claim I slept my way through Woodstock, or--"

"Stop!" Josh yelped.  "Please tell me you didn't--"

"Josh," Douglas-Radford admonished, "there are no hidden sex scandals in my past, so take it down a notch.  My sister always teased me for being a goody two shoes; maybe it'll finally pay off."

Donna stepped in.  "Governor, surely you understand the implications of--"

"Of course I do, Donna."

Sam jumped up from the table and circled it, joining Donna, CJ and Josh.  It didn't escape Douglas-Radford's notice that his move left Toni alone on the far side of the table.  Toni's sour look and crossed arms didn't escape her notice either.

"Governor," Sam began, "we'd like to release a strongly worded rebuttal--"

"A rebuttal of the notion that my arrest was drug related," Douglas-Radford nodded.  "Absolutely.  Release the arrest sheet if you can find it.  We've got it in Pennsylvania somewhere--"

"No, no, no," CJ shook her head, making vehement hand gestures for good measure.  "We do not need a mug shot of you on the front page of the papers tomorrow."

Josh raised a skeptical eyebrow.  "You really think Baker's minions aren't going to find that on their own?"

"There's no reason we have to help them along."

"Guys?" Douglas-Radford broke in.  "I hate to disappoint you, but I'm sure they've already got it.  It surfaced in a particularly nasty re-election campaign when I was in the House."

"Oh, God," CJ moaned.

"It's not that bad," the Governor reassured her.  Then she reconsidered.  "Well, except my hair looks dreadful.  I had a shag."  She shuddered with the recollection.  "Think Jane Fonda in Klute.  And big hoop earrings--"

"Really not the point," Josh interjected.  "Governor, we need to ask--"

Douglas-Radford sighed.  "Do not, under any circumstances, deny that I ever smoked pot."

CJ dropped her face into her hands and groaned.  Josh nodded grimly, while Sam and Donna both watched the Governor uncertainly.

Toni spoke for the first time.  "Governor, may I just say that I think this is a bad idea?  Admitting to illegal behavior is as good as forfeiting the election."

Douglas-Radford held Toni's gaze.  She could tell that the conversation was about more than the drug charges.  It was about hierarchy.  It was about who got to call the shots.  She'd agreed with Josh that he would have final say in all campaign matters before he'd officially signed on; they couldn't afford to have an inconsistent message.  But Toni had been with her since her run for the Pennsylvania Senate and was irreplaceable.

In short, Douglas-Radford couldn't afford to lose any of them to staff squabbles.  "Okay, kids," she announced, circling the table to drop into a chair next to Toni.  The campaign staffers remained standing opposite, wary expressions in place.  "Let's have it."  Her tone brooked no argument.

Josh and Toni engaged in a short, nonverbal contest of wills.  Then Toni relented and said, "Carrie made some comments anonymously that implied..." she trailed off uncomfortably.

"That there's a certain division between your gubernatorial staff and your campaign staff," Sam explained diplomatically.

Douglas-Radford raised an eyebrow.  "From the looks of things when I walked in, that implication is correct."

"Governor," Toni exploded, "you can't go on TV and say you smoked pot.  It'll lead every single news program tonight.  It'll be above the fold in every paper tomorrow.  We might as well go home right now."

Nodding thoughtfully, Douglas-Radford leaned back in her chair.  She took her time to compose an answer.  "Well, I'm not going to lie, and refusing to answer the question plays as a tacit admission anyway."  She met Toni's gaze.  "I don't see many options here, Toni."

Donna nodded, suddenly animated.  "If we get there first, we get to control the initial story.  We can spin it favorably before the other side can get on their soapboxes."

CJ jumped in.  "And we can distribute the police report at the press conference; then the Governor can make some remarks about her mug shot.  Downplay it."

Sam perked up.  "That thing about your hair is good.  You should use that."

Josh watched his friend, a small smirk in place.  "And Sam knows from bad hair."

"Hey!"

"Well, really, that third year in office?" Josh shrugged, making a strange gesture over his own unruly hair.  "It was kinda puffy."

Douglas-Radford ducked her head to hide her amusement.  "Okay, that's settled.  Now you've got to learn to play well with others."  She glanced over at Toni.  "All of you.  And please pass that along to the rest of the staff.  I'm not your kindergarten teacher.  Hell, I don't even care if you hate each other's guts.  Just as long as the spitball contests don't end up in the paper.  Understood?"

Everyone in the room nodded smartly, and Douglas-Radford smiled.

"Governor," Toni started.  "Considering all of this, maybe I should postpone my flight to South Car--"

"You're going," Douglas-Radford declared.  "Now I believe I have to go confess to my secret life as a pothead.  Anyone got any advice?"

She smiled broadly as the room erupted into chaos.

***

"You okay?"

CJ glanced over her shoulder and found Josh, pale and a little bit sweaty.  For a moment, she had an uncomfortable flash of how he looked That Christmas.  She averted her gaze for a moment, took a breath, and nodded.  "Yeah," she managed, her voice almost steady.  "I'm not the one who has to face them," she pointed out, lifting her chin to indicate the swelling press ranks in the ballroom.

Josh stepped up next to her, craning his neck.

"She's not out here yet," CJ told him, the corners of her mouth inching up.  These two were really too impossible.  "She's with the Governor."

He nodded.  "Yeah.  You know, I remember this feeling.  The way the press are acting, like-- like--"

"Like they smell blood in the water," CJ suggested, sliding her hand into his to give him a supportive squeeze.  "This is nothing like that, Josh.  The Governor has never concealed anything."

"I know."

He didn't sound convinced.  CJ opened her mouth to say more, but Sam appeared at Josh's elbow.  "This isn't at all nerve-wracking," he said sarcastically.

CJ caught Sam's eye.  "How's Toby?"

"Calling me every five minutes to argue my word choices."

"You faxed him the statement?" Josh asked, incredulous.  "That was stupid."

"It was better than the alternative."

CJ leaned into Josh and explained, "Toby wanted Sam to call and leave the line open so he could listen in real time."

Josh blinked.  "They're carrying this live on CNN, MSNBC, and some of the networks."

"He wanted an open line."

"Why?"

Sam shrugged.  "So he could end the press conference if necessary."

"Oh, God," Josh groaned.  "His comments would probably have been audible to the press."

Sam snickered.  "Yeah, can you imagine the headlines?"

They all sobered.

Josh trained his gaze on the empty podium.  "It's going to be bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah," CJ answered.

"How bad?" Sam asked, finally voicing the question they'd all been avoiding.

CJ pushed away the memories of three years past: hostile reporters, disrespectful questions, implications that she was a simpering girl caught up in a situation far beyond her abilities, and week after week of brutal questioning by a vengeful Congressional committee.  She couldn't go through that again.  "Let's not do this right now," CJ answered finally.  "We pulled together a strategy, a statement, and a major press conference in a couple of hours.  Let's concentrate on that for now, okay?"

Josh and Sam exchanged looks.  "Sure."

CJ grabbed for Josh's hand again.  "There's Donna," she murmured, catching sight of Donna making her way to the podium.

Beside her, Josh tensed.  "Here we go."

***

"Oh, here we go," Leo muttered as CNN cut to live coverage of the press conference where Donna was introducing Susan Douglas-Radford.  "The Governor's got that look in her eye."

"What look?" Bartlet demanded, not taking his eyes off the screen as Donna finished and stepped aside.

"The one you used to get just before you did something that sent Toby into fits."

Bartlet shrugged.  "She's going to tell the truth."

Leo was still somewhat skeptical of the situation.  Any politician worth his salt would know that the first follow-up question the Governor would get would be about drugs.  And anyone who spent her college years protesting the war in the late '60s had to have had more than a passing acquaintance with marijuana.  He marveled again at Josh's bravery; Leo couldn't say with certainty that he would have had the courage at forty-three to advise his candidate to admit drug use.

"Not always a wise political move, old friend," Leo pointed out.

Bartlet nodded emphatically.  "That's exactly what's wrong with politics today.  And I know whereof I speak."

Susan Douglas-Radford stood behind a small podium in what the press would describe as a tasteful navy ensemble, looking remarkably composed for someone about to plunge into history as either a trailblazer or a fool.

"First," she said, "thank you all for coming on such short notice."

"Like those vultures would've missed it," Abbey commented, sweeping into the room to settle next to her husband.

Douglas-Radford continued, "I'd like to address the ridiculous allegations printed in today's Chicago Sun-Times.  I was not in 1969, nor have I ever been, arrested on drug charges.  Or, it should be noted, for any illegal act.  My actions thirty-seven years ago, like those of my myriad compatriots, could not even be termed civil disobedience.  The most shocking moment of that night was when a certain protestor who shall remain nameless forgot the words to Give Peace a Chance."

A rumble of laughter from the press corps.

Abbey laughed outright, Bartlet grinned at the TV, and Leo gave an approving nod.  "There's the soundbite."

"That is," Douglas-Radford said, "until police officers charged the candlelight vigil and placed as many of us as they could grab under arrest for disturbing the peace.  If you'll glance at the police report Donna Moss provided, you'll see that I was never charged.  Nor were my fellow protestors.  Not one.  And please," she added with a wry grin, "when you're scrutinizing the police report, disregard the photo; I'd remind each of you of your own early fashion faux pas."  She paused for a moment, then said, "And that, I believe, should put the matter to rest."

Leo snickered.  Fat chance.

The ballroom erupted into chaos; and Douglas-Radford watched, bemused, until the frenzied shouts of "Governor!" died down to a dull roar.

"Yes," she said, pointing to the reporter from the Harrisburg Patriot-News.  "Ken."

"Governor, have you ever used illegal drugs?"

Susan Douglas-Radford didn't falter.  Hell, Leo thought with no small measure of admiration, she didn't even blink.  Leo'd been there, and he remembered the hot glare of the lights, the hungry stares of the reporters, and the sick taste of fear.  He half expected the Governor to renounce her candidacy on the spot and get the hell out of there.

Instead, Douglas-Radford asked coolly, "Do you really believe my answer to that question is relevant to my ability to carry out the duties of the Office of the President?"

"Are you refusing to answer the question, Governor?"

"I'll answer the question," Douglas-Radford said.  "I don't believe in lying to the press or avoiding the issues, relevant or not.  I did, during my years in college, use marijuana occasionally."

There was actually a moment of shocked silence as the roomful of jaded reporters tried to assimilate what they'd heard.

"Hot damn," Bartlet said, turning to Leo.  "We've got ourselves a whole new ballgame, Leo."

"No, we don't, sir," Leo answered, tilting his head toward the TV.  "They do."

***

"President Baker said -- and I'm quoting from notes -- 'I would be disappointed to learn that the Governor used illegal drugs.'  Do you have a response?"

"Hypocrite," Toby grumbled.

"Did I miss it?" Toni Timian asked, careening into the room, blonde hair flying out like a banner behind her.  "I had NPR on in the car on the way from the airport, but I figured I could make it up here in between the statement and the--"

"Shut up," Toby ordered.

Toni dropped her suitcase on the floor and flopped onto the couch next to him, breathing hard.  "Q&A," she finished.

"Yes."  Toby waved an absent hand in the air, not even taking the time to wonder at Toni's unexpected arrival in South Carolina.  His attention remained focused on the TV screen, where Susan Douglas-Radford was carefully considering her answer.  "Don't do it," Toby muttered.  "Don't take him on."

"That's an interesting comment," Douglas-Radford said finally, "considering the President's own refusal to answer questions about an alleged arrest for drunk driving, or address the issue of whether anyone in a position of power may have used undue influence to have the charge wiped from his record."

Toni grinned.  "Toby, I wish you could see the look on your face right now.

"Why are you smiling?" Toby yelled.  "Did you hear that?"

Toni shrugged.  "She's got a valid point.

"It doesn't matter.  Baker's going to be out for blood when he hears that!"

"But--"

Toby shushed her.  "Another question."

On screen, Douglas-Radford almost smiled as she asked, "Mindy, you have a follow-up?"

"Are you suggesting that politicians should list every mistake they've made while running for office?"

This time, Douglas-Radford did smile.  "Listing every mistake a politician has made would more than fill a book.  But if you're asking whether I think politicians should disclose their pasts, mistakes and all, to the electorate they seek to represent, I would have to say yes."

"Oh, God," Toby moaned.  "This woman is trying to kill me."

"If that's true," shouted another reporter, "then why have you never disclosed your drug use before?"

"I suppose it would be the politician's way out to say that no one's ever asked me," Douglas-Radford remarked.

"Was that a joke?" Toby turned an incredulous look Toni's way.  "She's admitting drug use and she's joking about it?"

Toni shrugged, unconcerned.  "That's her way."

Toby glared at her.  "I thought you were against this?"

"I was.  But I'm a free spirit.  I roll with the punches.  I make the best of--"

"Enough," Toby grimaced.  "Take the Mary Sunshine routine somewhere else."

"Wow, Toby, you are upset.  Resorting to cliché."

Toby didn't reply with words, but the glower he turned her way more than sufficed.

On screen, Douglas-Radford said, "I didn't disclose my decades-ago experimentation with marijuana because I don't feel it is relevant to my abilities to serve this country and my constituents.  I also believe that the fascination in the media with drugs and alcohol is one of the factors in its continued popularity among teenagers, and I do not want to contribute to that unwitting glorification of drug use."

"Good answer," Toby admitted grudgingly.  Toni just tossed him a grin.

"Governor," another reporter shouted, "do you think marijuana should be legalized?"

Toby made a disgusted gesture in the general direction of New Hampshire and demanded, "Who just asked that?"

"I don't know," Toni shrugged.  "Why?"

"So I can make his life a living hell."

Douglas-Radford's gaze flicked to the side -- to Josh, Toby figured, as a kind of warning -- before she said, "Let me make it very clear that any experimentation I and a large number of my peers did in college has nothing to do with my position on this matter.  During my tenure in the House of Representatives, I consistently voted in favor of legalizing marijuana for medicinal purposes.  I think it's reprehensible for the government to withhold a drug that gives genuine and quantifiable relief to patients suffering through chemotherapy or other nausea-inducing treatments."

Toby stilled on the couch, not even breathing as he waited for the rest.  Beside him, Toni sat hunched over, elbows on her knees, eyes trained on her boss.

"Governor--" yelled a reporter from offscreen.

Douglas-Radford held up her hand for silence.  "As for recreational drug use, I am of the opinion that the government is not, nor should it try to be a parent to its citizens.  There are numerous studies proving the nicotine is much more addictive than marijuana -- and much more harmful.  Furthermore, the only reason marijuana and cannabis were banned while nicotine remained legal is that the tobacco and logging lobbies were so powerful."

"Are you saying the government should legalize marijuana?"

"No, no, no," Toby muttered.  "This isn't supposed to happen like this."

Toni leaned towards him, her voice low.  "She's pro-legalization, Toby."

"Well," Toby said, throwing his hands up in the air, "I hope your ticket's refundable.  We can all go home now."

Toni whipped her head around to give him a curious look.  "You believe marijuana should be illegal?"

"No," Toby answered, "But pro-legalization plus a history of pot use?  Never mind the fact that the good old Southern Democrats weren't too crazy about her to begin with because she's a woman."  He shrugged.  "Haskell's gonna get the Democratic nomination."

Toby closed his eyes, unable to watch as Douglas-Radford answered.

"I'm saying that a government that purports to uphold the ideals of liberty and justice for all should strive for consistency in their laws.  I'm saying that mandatory minimums are racist.  I'm saying that drug addicts are better served by treatment than by incarceration.  And I'm saying that marijuana was outlawed not because it is more dangerous than nicotine or alcohol, but because the logging companies didn't want to deal with a loss of profit if hemp-based paper became widely available.  I'm saying that if addictive, dangerous substances are outlawed in this country, they should all be outlawed.  The laws of our country are not fair until they are consistent."

"So," Toby said sarcastically as Donna led the Governor away from the podium, "that went well."

***

"I may have kind of a thing," Sam announced.

Of course he might, Donna thought as she held the door of her hotel room open.  Because, after all, if Sam doesn't have a problem, what am I left with?  A major newspaper alleging that the Governor was arrested on drug charges thirty years ago; an announcement that refuted the charges while admitting that the Governor did indeed smoke pot in college; Carrie's thinking she and I are starring in some political roadshow version of All About Eve; and my bizarrely complicated relationship with Josh.  And, oh yes, that Master's thesis I'm supposed to be writing.  Thank God for Sam and his unspecified thing because otherwise however would I spend my time?

"See," Sam continued as he entered the room, "I think Toni has a valid point."

Donna's hand went automatically to her forehead as if to ward off the oncoming headache.  She recognized the gesture and decided that made it official -- she was turning into CJ:  The Next Generation.

She took immense comfort in that thought.

"Toni had a few valid points," she admitted.  "Which particular one are you referring to?"

"The one about all of us coming with a certain amount of baggage attached.  We all got our share of publicity during the hearings.  Even you."

"You're not going to launch into another chorus of 'Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Love Lyman,' are you?  Because, sadly, I think the ship's pretty much sailed there.  And why are you smiling?"

"I was just imagining the pain Toby would suffer if he had to ponder the mixed imagery in that sentence."

She flopped onto the bed, kicking her shoes off and gesturing for Sam to take a seat by her makeshift desk.  "You had a thing, Sam?"

"Right."  Sam, she noticed, looked decidedly uncomfortable.  That was unusual -- Sam was one of those people who managed to adapt comfortably to whatever circumstances he found himself in.  The human chameleon, CJ had called him once.

Sam took a deep breath and started again.  "I thought I should give you a heads up, seeing as how you're press secretary and all.  Because if we all do end up in the tabloids--"

She suddenly understood where he was headed.  "Just promise me this isn't going to be a repeat of the incident with the hooker."

"Call girl.  And her name was Laurie."

"Whatever."

"You could show a little more compassion."

"I absolutely feel compassion about the tabloid thing.  Having seen my own photo on the cover of the Enquirer -- and my parents bring that subject up every time I go home -- I feel great compassion for that.  No one should have their life dissected for entertainment value.  However, the whole 'I'm selling my body to get through law school'--"

"She was trying to make a better life for herself.  Which is, you know, a noble goal."

"And that was the only way she could do it?"

"Tuition was expensive."

"Sam, I know how expensive tuition was.  I used to cry myself to sleep at night because I couldn't afford to finish my undergraduate degree.  I had a roommate I couldn't stand, a cramped apartment in a lousy neighborhood, and a job where I was required to wear an upscale wardrobe I'm still paying for.  And yet I never resorted to prostitution."

"See?  This is what happens.  This is what Laurie still has to deal with because she made the mistake of being friends with me."

"For the sake of my sanity, please tell me you don't still--"

"No, I haven't talked to Laurie in years.  But I know what it's like in corporate law.  I know that there are people who will always think of her as the woman in that picture.  I hurt her when all I wanted was to help her, you know?"

"I know, Sam, and you shouldn't beat yourself up about it."

"Yeah, but here's my thing:  I'm still the guy who got his picture taken with the call girl.  If the papers start looking for fresh material on all of us, if they start asking around about our lives now--"

"They find that you've been doing all kinds of important legal work, most of it pro bono," Donna said, hoping to postpone the inevitable declaration.

"I do have a personal life, you know, Donna."

"I know, Sam."

"You don't.  Not really."

"I do.  Really."  Judging from the mixture of skepticism and trepidation on his face, he didn't believe her.  So, okay, she thought.  It was time somebody mentioned the topic they'd all been avoiding for the last three years.

"You're gay," she said.

If the subject hadn't been so serious, the look on Sam's face would have been comical.  "How -- when did you figure it out?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted.  "It just sort of gradually occurred to me that maybe--"  She shrugged.  "Then once I met Jesse, the pieces sort of clicked into place."

"What made you think Jesse--"

"Sam, there are certain resemblances.  Jesse -- Hell, if he weren't gay, I would have been sorely tempted myself."

"They're really nothing alike," Sam said defensively.

"Okay."

"They're not.  Maybe there are a few superficial -- Jesse does that thing with his hair."  Sam mimicked running a hand through his hair, a familiar gesture that made Donna's heart turn over.  "But their personalities are completely different."

"If you say so."

"Jesse has no ego."

"It's just that I worry about you, Sam.  If you're getting involved with someone because he reminds you of--"

"No, I'm not.  I love Jesse for himself, not because he's a substitute for something I can't have."

"Well, that's good then."  She smiled because she realized that Sam was beaming.  He looked, she thought, happier than she'd seen him since before Healthgate.

"Yeah, it really is.  I miss Jesse, you know.  We were on the campaign bus the other day, and I was thinking about how much I'd love Jesse to see this, you know, and have him meet all these people I care about.  And, you know, I realized that this whole experience -- I'd never want to live in Washington again, but this has been good for me.  It's been--"  He paused, searching for the right words.

"Healing," Donna suggested.

"Healing," Sam agreed.  "Getting rid of old resentments, letting go of all this stuff that's kept me from moving on."

"Yes."

"It's not that -- I mean, I'll always care about him."

"No one ever gets over him," Donna agreed.  "Not completely."

"But Jesse--"  And Sam was beaming again.  Donna decided that it was really quite cute.  "Jesse's incredible.  I want to start sharing all my life with him."

"That's great, Sam, really."

"So you're not freaked out by this?"

"Not at all," Donna grinned.  "Nobody's going to be freaked out by it.  Or at least, you know, not for long."

"But the thing is--"

"You'd rather not be outed in People magazine?"

"I'm not worried about myself so much as I am about Jesse.  All his friends and family know he's gay, but I'd hate for him to have to go through the sort of thing Laurie experienced."

"Which is entirely possible."

"I was hoping you'd tell me I have nothing to worry about."

"I don't know, Sam.  Maybe the media won't pick up on it.  Or care.  Although finding out that the guy who got his picture taken with the call girl is actually gay -- what tabloid could resist that story?"

"Right," Sam said with a grimace.  "That's what I was afraid of."

"I'd say what you need to do right now is call Jesse and tell him to be prepared for this."

Sam stared at her.  "How do you prepare someone with no experience in politics to star in a political sex scandal?"

***

"Did anyone see you come in here?" Donna asked as she held the hotel door open for Josh.

"Are we doing the cloak-and-dagger thing?" Josh asked.  He was torn somewhere between relief that Donna wasn't questioning his showing up on her doorstep and horror that his presence apparently freaked her out to the point where she didn't want anyone to see him.  Unsure of himself for once, he fell back on humor.  She used to like that.  "Because if you want, I can go back to my room and find an outfit that goes better with the whole James Bond and the Russian Spy theme we're going for here and--"

Oh, yeah.  Right.  She'd never liked it when he went for the humor at awkward moments like this.  She'd always just given him that "my boss is an idiot" look he was getting now.

How pathetic was it, he wondered, that he'd actually missed that look.

"Josh, be serious," Donna said as he followed her into the center of the room.  "This article alleges--"

"It doesn't.  It never comes out and says--"

"No, if it came straight out and said it, we might have an easier time refuting the charges."

"The worst thing it calls you is--"  He paused, trying to remember the exact words that had been used to describe Donna.  His brain was sort of stuck on that whole "aging boy wonder" thing.

"Relatively inexperienced.  Which we can't refute because, you know, it is true.  And it goes on to say that unnamed sources on the Governor's staff -- and I think we've pretty much established that we're talking about Carrie there -- question whether you would have hired me if not for our sordid history."

"Okay, it doesn't say sordid.  I would have remembered sordid."

"No, you have to read between the lines for sordid.  That's in the next paragraph where it mentions my testimony during the hearings."

"Well, see, that's where we lucked out.  If any reporters ask about us, you can always refer them to those two days you spent assuring the special prosecutor that we weren't involved."

He'd forgotten that shade of pink her skin turned whenever she got embarrassed.  Well, all right, maybe he hadn't forgotten precisely, but he hadn't let himself think about it for quite some time.

"And you know what happens next?" she asked.  "Someone realizes that the hearings were several years ago.  So now the question is whether anything's happened between us since then.  And we're right back in Seattle."

He reached out, pulling her closer to him.  "I wouldn't mind being back in Seattle," he said softly.

She stepped out of his arms before he could stop her.  "God, Josh," she said.  "Why do you always do this?  Why do you pick the absolute worst moment to--"  She shook her head.  "I don't even know what the hell it is you are trying to do here."

That, he reflected, was not an encouraging thought.  "Well, I knew I was out of practice, but I thought at least--"  He stopped when he caught the look on her face.  He had to stop with the humor; if it backfired any worse, she'd end up leaving the campaign.  "Sorry," he mumbled.

She gave that sigh he remembered all too well -- the "I am working for the brain dead" sigh.  "No," she said.  "I mean, obviously we need to talk about what the hell is going on here, but this is simply not the time.  We have much bigger problems than our -- whatever it is we have."

"Okay, but--"

"CJ and I have already discussed it.  Obviously, we need to get the focus off the five of us and back on to the Governor and the issues."

"Yeah, I'm thinking since she admitted smoking pot in the Sixties, that won't be a problem."

"Still, there are bound to be some parts of the media that won't leave this alone.  We all got our share of publicity back then, you and CJ especially.  If nothing else, you can expect the 'Where are they now?' pieces in magazines like People."

"What fun," he said with a grimace.

"CJ and Evan will be a thing," Donna went on.  "After all, there are still people in this country who hate the very idea of interracial couples."

His hand automatically went to his old wound.  "Yeah," he said, "I seem to remember something about that."

The minute he saw how pale Donna turned, he wished he hadn't mentioned Rosslyn, no matter how obliquely.  Before he could apologize, however, Donna pressed on.  "And then there's Sam."

"What about Sam?  They're not going to drag out the call girl story again, are they?"

"Probably, but that's not what has Sam concerned.  He's already been in here to talk to me about it.  He's more worried someone will start digging around what's going on in his life now."

"Geez!  Don't tell me he's rescuing more damsels in distress off the streets of San Francisco."

The look on Donna's face was somewhere between confusion and amusement.  "You really have no idea, do you?" she asked.

"No idea about what?  I mean, okay, Sam seems to be spending a lot of time with you, but--"  He had the sudden urge to press his back against the nearest wall.  "You're not saying that you and Sam--"

He had no idea what he'd said to make Donna laugh, but he didn't much care since it resulted in another one of those quick kisses to his cheek.  "You really are quite dense sometimes, Josh.  I think you'd better have a long talk with Sam about this."

"Well, okay, but just to clarify, you and Sam aren't--?"

"No, definitely not."  She started laughing again.  "Most definitely not."

"Well, good."  The moment stretched out, the two of them grinning at each other until he remembered what he'd come there to tell her in the first place.  "I need to go tomorrow afternoon.  To South Carolina.  To help Toby set things up."

"Okay."

"You could come with."

"I have work to do here, remember?  Damage control."

"See," he said, "this is the part where you're supposed to offer to join me.  You know -- 'I'll sleep on the floor; I'll sell my car.'  Any of this ringing a bell?"

She turned serious on him, which under the circumstances he hated.  "I'm not her anymore, Josh."

"I didn't think you were.  I was just--"

"If that's who you're looking for, this isn't going to work."

"I'm not.  Really."

"I think maybe you are.  A little."

"Donna, I'm really not."  He pulled her back into his arms.  "I was very fond of her.  I'm in love with you."

He was, he thought, in deep trouble if she didn't respond to that.  So he was greatly relieved when she beamed up at him and said, "Well.  Okay then."

"Okay?  I'm not getting more than okay?"

"This is absolutely the wrong moment to pursue this."

"We do seem to have a history of picking the wrong moment."

"And look where it's landed us."

He looked around.  "In another hotel room.  Conveniently equipped with a bed."

"Don't press your luck, Joshua."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Donnatella," he replied just before he kissed her.

Kissing Donna felt exactly the way he remembered -- deep and passionate, sweet and gentle all at once.  He found himself groaning in frustration when she pulled away from him.

"We have to talk all this out before we--" she started.

"We could talk it out after we--"

"No," she said.  "And we don't have time to talk about this now.  Go away."

"Go away?" he repeated, astonished.

"I'll be in South Carolina in two days.  We can talk about it then."

"When?"

"Excuse me?"

"When?  Name the time and place, and I'll be there."

She rolled her eyes at him.  "Have Pedro clear an afternoon on your schedule.  Then have him call me, and I'll see whether I can fit you in."

"You know that all sounds vaguely kinky when you put it like that."

She pushed him toward the door.  "Go away now, Josh."

Suddenly, he found himself on the wrong side of a locked door.  But he could still hear her giggling on the other side.

So, okay, he thought.  I can still make Donnatella Moss laugh.  That has to be a good sign, right?

***

"'Presidential Candidate Cops to Life of Crime.'"

"The Sacramento Bee's better: 'Douglas-Radford - Midnight Toker.'"

"'Female Presidential Hopeful's Dreams Up In Smoke.'"

"No way.  I've got it:  'Madame Pothead - Douglas-Radford Admits Drug-Addled Past.'"

A chorus of groans.

"Who wrote that?" Toby demanded, his voice scratchy thanks to the battered phone in the small Manchester campaign office.  He had, Donna'd heard, lost a minor skirmish with Toni, who pointed out that a last-minute commercial airline ticket from South Carolina to New Hampshire was unnecessary, and would result in several hundred less dollars in his budget for the voting program.  He acquiesced as graciously as ever, which is to say, not gracefully at all.

Donna tossed the paper onto the table in disgust.  So much for her short-lived career as the press secretary of a major presidential campaign.  Not to mention her thesis topic.  "The New York Daily News."

A moment of silence.

"Well," Josh said with brittle cheer, "we're pretty much done.  Anyone got a potato?  Or, you know, some pot?"

Sam pretended to check his pockets.  "Damn, you know what?  I left my stash back in, oh, 1987."

Donna snickered, while CJ fixed Josh with a horrified look.  "A potato?"

"To make a bong."

"You couldn't really just go to a head shop and buy one like a respectable college kid?"

Josh grinned.  "I was a Boy Scout."

"No, you weren't," Donna snorted.  Adira Lyman had herself quite a laugh when Donna had recounted Josh's proclamations that he was an outdoorsman.  According to his mother, she'd been hard pressed to get Josh to agree to occasional family trips to the beach when he was a boy, never mind an extended stay outdoors.  He'd always loved to interact with people; nature, not so much.  Donna suspected it was because Josh could convince people to do just about anything; nature, though, had the upper hand.  And Josh couldn't stand the very thought.  "Besides which, I doubt they give a badge for that. Artful Potato Maiming:  How to Carve a Bong Out of Practically Anything."

Sam, who had been a Young Baron (which was basically, Donna thought, a rich kid's Boy Scouts) laughed outright.  "Can you imagine the graphic on that little round badge?"

"Could we please?" Toby yelled, his words somewhat muffled by the phone.  "As enlightening as this little trip down opium lane has been, do you think we could, you know, work on fixing things?"

CJ raised an eyebrow at the phone, since Toby wasn't there to see it.  "Toby--"

"I've got a revolutionary Get out the Vote campaign kicking into high gear," Toby bellowed, "and all anyone's gonna remember about the Governor is that she spent 1969 giggling, devouring salty snack foods, and getting arrested!"

Josh blinked a couple of times, then leaned over and covered up what he thought was the microphone.  "So this thing here when they call Toby 'the Beltway's answer to Oscar the Grouch' isn't all that off-base, huh?"

Sam pointed at the phone, from which an audible growl emanated, and said, "Uh, Josh?  I'm pretty sure that's the speaker you're covering right now."

"Ah."

"Yes," Toby answered sourly.  "Your brilliance, as always, astounds me."

"I read that eyesight is the first thing to go as you age," Donna commented without looking up from the newspapers she was scanning.

"Is that a dig at me?" Josh asked.  He moved closer to where Donna was sitting because, after all, he needed to peruse those papers himself.

"Let's see:  Can't tell a speaker from a microphone, hairline continues to recede, seems positively arthritic some mornings--"

"Hey!"

"Well, perhaps if you found time for your physical therapy--"

"Yes, Mom."

"This part," CJ noted wryly, "seems particularly relevant at the moment.  'Despite her frequent denials of an improper relationship with Lyman--'"

"Stupid article makes it sound as though I was standing in the entrance to the White House, randomly issuing denials," Donna muttered.

"Very poor writing," Sam agreed.

Donna stood up, imitating a White House tour guide.  "Hi there!  Welcome to the White House, the people's house!  I'm your tour guide Donna Moss--"

"Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff," Sam added helpfully.

"And I'd just like you to know that I am not involved in any improper relationship with my boss."  She held out her hand, and Josh took it.  They spent a few seconds longer than necessary for a formal handshake.

"I'm Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman," he said, "and while I will admit to the occasional impure thought about my assistant, I showed remarkable self-restraint.  Really, I amaze myself some times."

"CJ," Toby's voice cackled through the loudspeaker, "just so you know, I'm rolling my eyes right now."

CJ cast a quick look in Sam's direction.  "That seems to be the general reaction, Tobias."  She continued to read.  "'Despite her frequent denials of an improper relationship with Lyman, Beltway insiders have long speculated about Moss' unusual devotion to her former boss.'"

"Worst sentence I've read yet," Sam grumbled.  "Where's it from?"

CJ checked the masthead.  "Charleston Daily Mail."

"South Carolina?" Josh asked.

"West Virginia," CJ replied.  "The Daily Mail is a notoriously conservative, pro-mining paper.  They were the first in the country to endorse Baker."

"And in his home state," Sam said.  "What a shocker."

"The Daily Mail's the afternoon paper," CJ continued.  "If you want progressive, liberal leaning reporting in West Virginia, you need to read the morning paper.  Donna, what's the name?"

"The Charleston Gazette," Donna replied absently.  "Very big on environmental issues and therefore anti-Baker.  And who the hell are these Beltway insiders who are supposedly speculating about my -- about Josh and me?"

"Ann Stark," CJ suggested.

"Ainsley Hayes," Josh guessed.  "Closer to the source."

"Why are you guys still picking on Ainsley?" Sam asked, a suspiciously guilty look on his face.

Ignoring Sam, Josh continued, "If Ainsley had any dirt to spill, it would be about--"

"Oh, for the love of God, Josh, I went out with him twice and we had this argument five years ago!"

"If I were looking for a source," Toby said, "and this should in no way indicate that I give a damn, my money would be on Mandy."

"Is Mandy even in Washington anymore?" Sam asked.

"Who the hell cares?" CJ asked.

"Yeah, that whole sisterhood vibe pretty much comes and goes with you two, doesn't it?" Josh asked, just moments before yelling "Ow!"

"Who got him this time?" Toby asked.

"Donna," Sam answered.  "Rolled up newspaper."

"Good work there, Donna."

"Thank you, Toby."

"Oh, this one's good," Josh said, reading from the paper he'd filched from Donna's pile.  "'Sam Seaborn, whose reputation as the problem child--'"

"Child?" Sam asked, his voice taking on a squeaky tone that reinforced the media description.

"'The problem child,'" Josh repeated, "'of the Bartlet staff was cemented when his predilection for prostitutes came to light during--'"

"Dear lord," Toby said.  "I swear to God that if I have to hear much more of this, my ears will start bleeding."

"The charges are disturbing," CJ agreed.

"It's not the charges," Toby said.  "Where did these people go to school?  Did none of them learn the fundamentals of news reporting?"

"It's not a predilection," Sam protested, "and she wasn't a prostitute."

"Sam, again we point out that this whole call girl/prostitute distinction of yours doesn't matter," Josh said.  "Men gave her money to have sex with them.  It's prostitution no matter how well she was paid."

"Can we please get back to discussing the charges against the governor?" Toby asked.  His voice, coming from the speaker, was sounding increasingly strained.

"There's something in this one about Evan," Donna said.

"What?" CJ grabbed the paper out of Donna's hand.  "Where?"  She scanned the article, her mouth tightening.

"What does it say?" Toby demanded, impatient.

CJ dropped into a nearby chair, one hand rubbing her temple.  "'Evan Drexler, husband of -- blah, blah, blah -- is the black writer--'"

"Why is it always 'the black writer'?" Donna grumbled.  "I hate that.  They'd never say 'the white writer.'"

"--Who won the National Book Critics Award for his novel, Altimetrical, a thinly-disguised recounting of his relationship with Cregg--"

"It's really not," Sam protested.  "I know.  I was there."

CJ ignored him.  "'Though not directly involved in Governor Douglas-Radford's presidential bid, Drexler, who has been linked to the Black Panthers--'"

"What?" Josh yelped.

"'--Has been spotted repeatedly with his wife on the campaign trail.  The extent of his influence on Cregg or the campaign itself is unknown.'"

CJ flung the paper away from her.

"Good God," Donna said finally, settling next to CJ in a silent show of support.  "Who wrote that piece of racist dreck?"

"The Detroit News."

No one seemed to know what to say, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the humming of the open phone line.

Then a sharply dressed, slightly wary Susan Douglas-Radford appeared in the doorway and glanced around.  "I'm guessing the headlines are pretty bad."

Donna nodded.  "Yes."  She knew the brevity of her answer was proof enough.  The fact that Donna Moss, Silver Lining Girl, didn't elaborate properly conveyed the seriousness of the situation.

"Okay," Douglas-Radford swallowed hard.  "So what happens next?"

CJ glanced around the room and said, "Josh and Sam go to South Carolina to hook up with Toby.  Donna and I stay here to handle the press."

Josh and Sam both opened their mouths to protest, but Douglas-Radford shook her head.  "I don't want to hear it.  You two, go.  Let the ladies handle the press."

***

"I hate airports," Josh muttered.

"No, you're spoiled because Air Force One was always waiting for you."

"For me?" Josh grinned, glancing over at Sam.

"You know what I mean.  It wasn't ever MIA."

"We're gonna miss the connecting flight," Josh complained.

"So we rent a car in Charlotte and drive down."

"Oh, that'll be fun," Josh grumbled.  "This is a sign," he decided, pacing the small waiting area.  "I was right.  We should stay with the Governor.  What if Donna needs us--"

"Donna has our cellphone numbers.  And a damn good head on her shoulders; she'll be fine.  Toby, on the other hand, needs help with the thing."

"You see, I don't really think he does."

"Josh."

"I think he's scared of Toni and wants backup."

Sam didn't even grace that silliness with a response.

Josh barely noticed, absorbed as he was in devising reasons to stay with the Governor.  Which would just happen to mean staying with Donna.  And maybe staying with Donna.

Instead of any of that, though, Josh was waiting in an airport with Sam.  Not exactly the way he'd hoped to spend the night.  To say he was frustrated would be a vast understatement.

"Where is the plane?" Josh yelled.

"Josh," Sam admonished.  "It's not like the gate agents are hiding it behind that desk."

"Yeah," Josh admitted grudgingly.  "But--"

Before he could come up with an appropriate reason to gripe his cellphone rang.  "Praise God," he muttered, fishing it out of his bag and waggling it in the air at Sam.  "Maybe it's Donna with a crisis.  Or, you know, a plane!"  This last bit was directed, of course, at the gate agents, who coolly ignored him.

"Josh Lyman, Stranded in Boston."

"Josh," Leo's unmistakable voice answered.  "What's your problem?"

"Logan Airport is obviously the vortex of hell," Josh answered loudly.

"Are you harassing the gate agents?" Leo demanded.

Josh suddenly felt a little sheepish.  "Yeah," he admitted.

"Don't do that, Josh.  It's not like they have any control over the pilots."

"I know," Josh sighed.  "It's just annoying."

"No, it's just that you were spoiled by Air Force One."

"Okay, you're sounding eerily like Sam--"

"Hey!" Sam protested.

"--And when did Leo McGarry become an optimist?"

"Retirement's relaxing, Josh."

"Please, Leo.  You've been all over the country for the past three years."

"I took a year off."

"A year in which you pretty much ran the Massachusetts arm of the DNC."

"How'd you know about that?"

"I have my sources."

"Used to be," Leo said, "all your sources were my sources."

Josh didn't know how to respond for a moment, what with that strange note of wistfulness in Leo's voice.  "Some of them still are."

Leo let the silence stand for a moment.  "I saw the press conference. Donna's good."

"Yeah," Josh grinned.  "She is."

"And Douglas-Radford's really good with the humor.  That crack about Give Peace a Chance will be in the papers."

"Yeah.  CJ said they all but looped it on CNN."

"They did. MSNBC too."

"Excellent," Josh said.

"Yeah, it is," Leo answered.  "You guys are doing all right, Josh."

"Well, we were.  I'm not sure we can recover from--"

"You can," Leo said confidently.  "I know you, Josh.  You'll fix this."

Josh blinked stupidly at the wall.  "Thanks."

"Josh?" Sam asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

Josh looked over at him, still a little dazed.  "Yeah?"

"Look."  Sam pointed out the window, to where a 757 was pulling up the gate.

"A plane!" Josh grinned.

"Listen, kid," Leo said, "go find yourself a plane or something and get out of my city."

"'Kay," Josh grinned.

"Give Donna my congratulations, would you?"

"Sure, Leo."

Josh disconnected to find Sam watching him with a bemused look on his face.  "What?"

"What'd Leo have to say?"

Josh grinned.  "He's proud of us."

THE END

09.07.01