March, 2006

***

"No."

"Yes."

Toby closed his eyes and tried to ignore the bickering.  Why they'd gravitated to his room, he would never know, but it was immensely irritating.  Especially considering that he couldn't just get up and leave.

"No."

"Yes."

Ignoring them didn't seem to be working.  Toby sighed and opened his eyes, his gaze finding Toni and Josh, still squared off near the door.  He hadn't even stepped over the threshold when Toni had demanded to know what had happened with the Governor and Haskell's phone call.  And Toni hadn't stopped arguing since Josh obliged.

"No!"

"Ye -- You know what?  This isn't actually your call, Toni."

Toni stood quite still, anger radiating from her frame.  "We can't give up, Josh."

"We're not," CJ interrupted, her tone subdued.  She looked tired, slumped a little in her seat on the couch.  She'd muted all three TVs and nearly snapped the knob off of the radio when she silenced it earlier.

The mood in the room was strange, and had been since Josh left to speak with the Governor.  After his pronouncement, it only got worse.  Toby had been the only one, apparently, who'd seen it coming.  He'd spent the time during Josh's absence staring somewhat vacantly out the window, sipping his Jack Daniels and ignoring the speculation around him.

Sam had guessed that Haskell's press secretary was calling to arrange a favorable concession speech by the Governor, assuming she'd drop out of the race and endorse Haskell.  Toni had argued vehemently that the Governor wasn't dropping out, regardless of the disappointing -- disastrous, Sam had corrected her -- outcome of Super Tuesday.  CJ and Donna hadn't said much; and Evan hadn't said anything at all, merely sitting beside his wife and occasionally rubbing her back.

It had been a long, exhausting, chaotic day, one that had started at 4:45 a.m. with last minute Get out the Vote planning sessions.  Now, almost seventeen hours later, everyone's nerves were understandably frayed.  Toby's voting initiatives had been pretty successful; voter turnout was up seven points on average.  Unfortunately, the results of the primaries weren't nearly as good, at least not for the Douglas-Radford team.

Governor Susan Douglas-Radford had finished second to Senator Mark Haskell in nearly two-thirds of Super Tuesday's primaries, laying to rest any hope that she'd win the Democratic nomination.  Toni, fiercely loyal and hot-tempered on her best days, was refusing to admit defeat.

"It is giving up, CJ," she declared in her typically truculent manner, her eyes ablaze with anger.  "We still have a chance.  We still have primaries--"

"Kansas," Josh interrupted, still standing just inside the door.  "Indiana.  Not exactly bastions of liberal ideology.  We're not going to win there."

Still angry, Toni attempted to brush past Josh.  "I need to speak to the Governor."

Josh's absence had been so short that Toby knew the Governor must have had an answer ready.  She was, after all, politically astute and she must have known this situation was a possibility.  Quite unlike Jed Bartlet, whose idealism and sometimes ferocious anger often blinded him to political realities.  Leo's job had always been to keep Bartlet from going off half-cocked.  With Susan Douglas-Radford and Toni Timian, Toby mused, the roles seemed to be reversed.  Toni kept the Governor fired up and out of the safe, middle ground toward which most career politicians eventually gravitated.

Only this time, she was wrong.  Too blinded by loyalty to see the situation realistically.

"No," Toby said, his tone low but commanding.

One hand on the doorknob, Toni stopped.  Slowly, she turned to face him, a disbelieving look on her face.  "Excuse me?"

"She's already made her decision," Toby answered, glancing at Josh for confirmation.  Josh dipped his chin, moving to the couch to sit with Donna, whose wide eyes betrayed a little of her old political naiveté.

"With Josh's help, maybe," Toni said caustically.

"Toni," Sam started, playing the role of peacemaker to the end.

"No, it's okay," Josh said.  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and fixed Toni with an intense look.  "You're damn right I told her to accept.  I want Susan Douglas Radford in the White House, Toni, just like you do."  He paused, letting his words sink in.  "She's not gonna get there on her own."

Toni turned away, but not before Toby caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes.  He pushed himself upright and crossed the room, hesitating before placing a tentative hand on her back.  "The public has responded to her honesty," he said.  "She's done incredibly well for a pot-smoking, anti-business, bleeding heart liberal, female presidential candidate."

Toni didn't move, didn't acknowledge his words.

"You forgot feminist," Donna supplied from her spot on the couch.

"Pro-choice," CJ added.  "And a gay marriage supporter."

"Anti-gun," Sam chimed in, and Toby glanced over to see that he'd recovered a little from his earlier disappointment.  This campaign had been something of a pilgrimage for Sam, and to see it end prematurely and unfavorably had shaken him.

"Environmentalist," Toni said, drawing Toby's attention.  She faced the others now, flashing a small, tremulous smile.

"Pro-campaign finance reform," Toby nodded.  "And even with all of that, she made it to Super Tuesday as the number two Democratic candidate for president.  That in itself is--"

"Historic," Josh finished, flashing that familiar smirk.  Some of his solemnity was beginning to lift.  "And we brought Mark Haskell to the left."

"Yup," Toni nodded, beginning to get into the spirit of things.  "I guess he's not all bad."

Donna nodded, her expression thoughtful.  "He's actually pretty good.  I've studied his record."

"Yeah," CJ grinned, perking up a bit.  "I could stand having him for a president.  Huge improvement over Baker, at any rate."

Toby gave her an eloquent look.  "Your cat would be an improvement over Baker."

Evan, who'd remained silent throughout the discussion, asked, "So if the number one and number two Democratic candidates join forces, aren't they a pretty strong ticket?"

"Yes," Josh answered.  He gave Donna an impromptu hug, exuberant as always in the face of a potential victory.  He kept chattering on, about polling numbers and preparation and so forth, but Toby tuned him out.  Josh could be really annoying when he was bouncing off the walls in excitement.

Evan turned his attention to his wife.  "So you really think--"

"Susan Douglas-Radford is going to be the first female vice-president," she answered, grinning.  "And in eight years--"

"I'm gonna put her in the Oval Office," Josh vowed.

Toni glanced around, a little awed.  "Wow."

Though they were all still disappointed, Toby included, by the deferment of their presidential hopes for the Governor, the Haskell/Douglas-Radford ticket would be a strong challenge to Gregory W. Baker.  When Toby looked around the room, he found smiles on almost every face.  Smiles not as gleeful as they would have been had Douglas-Radford carried the day, but smiles nonetheless.

Then an unfamiliar voice asked, "Wait -- I thought she lost."

Toby turned to find a tall, average-looking man standing in the doorway.  He was wearing casual, slightly rumpled clothes and a baffled expression.  Toby frowned.  "Who the hell are you?"

The man stuck out his hand.  "I'm Jesse Addox, and you must be Toby Ziegler."

***

Susan Douglas-Radford walked down the hotel hallway in measured steps, her husband at her side.  He didn't really need to accompany her to talk to the staff, but that was just the kind of guy he was.  Sweet and a bit protective, he knew she was still a bit shaky, and he'd stay with her until she told him she was okay.  And she really wasn't yet.  To say her emotions were running amok would be to do her whirling anger, excitement, fear, frustration, and disappointment serious injustice.  The disappointment, especially, was bitter, but she was determined to set the right tone.  Toni, Douglas-Radford knew, would be the hardest to deal with; her idealism hadn't allowed her to accept the possibility that the voters still weren't ready for a female commander-in-chief.

The Governor herself had been hopeful, but she knew somewhere underneath her determined optimism that defeat was a very real possibility.  Now that circumstances no longer allowed her to shy away from the thought, she realized that the Republicans were more likely to put a woman in the Oval Office first; after all, a nice, conservative, non-feminist woman wouldn't threaten the male voters and would also pull some female Independents and Democrats more interested in putting a woman in office than putting the right woman in office.

The door to Toby's suite bore the brunt of her frustration, earning three swift, heavy knocks that set it rattling in its frame.  Josh opened the door, his expression solemn but hopeful.  It was exactly what she needed to see:  If Josh, who considered this campaign his last, best shot at earning political (and, as it turned out, personal) forgiveness for his sins in 2002, could accept her decision, well... maybe she could learn to be happy with hearing "Madame Vice-President."

At least for the next eight years.

Somewhat heartened, Douglas-Radford squeezed her husband's hand, nodded at Josh, and stepped into the suite.  They were all there -- CJ and Evan sharing the small, uncomfortable sofa; Donna sat in the matching armchair, Josh crossing to stand just behind her; Toby, Toni, Sam, and a complete stranger stood in a little clump near the window; but every single one of them looked up when Susan Douglas-Radford walked into the room.

"Hello," she said.

Toni broke away from the others.  "Governor, are you accepting the offer?"

Douglas-Radford chuckled; she should've expected as much.  Patience had never been Toni's strong suit.  "I'll get to that in a minute."  She nodded at the newcomer.  "Would somebody like to introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh!"  Sam glanced at the man beside him, who was sporting a rather endearing sheepish grin.  "This is Jesse Addox.  He's a chemistry professor at U.C-Berkeley.  And--"  Sam paused for a moment, his gaze skipping over to Toby before he took a deep breath and took Jesse's hand.  "He's with me."

Douglas-Radford blinked, smiled at Sam, and nodded to Jesse.  "Nice to meet you, Jesse.  I'm Susan Douglas-Radford."

"I know," Jesse answered.  "And I'd just like you to know that my tiny little office is chock full of your campaign materials.  I feel quite confident that the chemistry department at Berkeley is single-handedly responsible for your win in San Francisco today."

Charmed, the Governor laughed.  "I like you."  She glanced over at Josh, eyebrows raised.  "Did I win San Francisco?"

Josh nodded happily.  "All but two precincts, yes."

"Huh," she answered, digesting that.  "I always did like San Francisco."  Then she glanced around, gathering her thoughts.  "I hope I don't disappoint any of you--"

"Governor," Toni interrupted.

"Toni," she admonished.  "My decision's been made."

Toni dropped heavily into the chair by the desk.  "There are still a few primaries," she protested weakly.  "We could--"

"There's no way," Toby told her, his tone kinder than Douglas-Radford had heard before.  "It's no one's fault; we can't control the populace."

Toni glared at the desktop momentarily.  "You know, the world would be a much less irritating place if everyone would just listen to me."

Toby actually grinned. Douglas-Radford raised an eyebrow but said only, "Be that as it may, we don't have the delegates to win the nomination.  Mark Haskell called me ten minutes ago to request a meeting.  His aide, Jason Bezdek, called Josh a half hour ago to ask the question.  Josh told Jason -- and I'm going to tell Mark when he asks me in a few minutes -- that I will gladly accept his offer to run for vice-president on the Haskell ticket."

There, Douglas-Radford thought.  It was out; she'd said it.  And she was pretty sure her tone had conveyed none of her disappointment.  Reflexively, she glanced over at her husband, who gave her a small, encouraging smile.

Obviously, from the lack of shocked looks, Josh had told the staff already.  CJ looked quiet but hopeful, her husband lending her silent support.  Josh and Donna seemed accepting, Sam looked almost happy (though the Governor figured some of that could be attributed to Jesse's presence), and Toby -- Well, who could tell with Toby?  He wasn't scowling, at least, so Douglas-Radford decided to read that as his Tobyesque form of quiet jubilation.

She turned last to Toni, who was still slumped in the desk chair.  The Governor walked over to her Chief of Staff, placing a hand on her shoulder.  "What do you say, Toni -- How about a nice corner office at the OEOB?"

Toni seemed to reach some kind of decision; when she looked up, she was smiling that wide, full smile.  "I think I can live with that.  But I was promised Ann Stark's office, Susan, and I intend to see that you keep that promise in 2014."

Douglas-Radford grinned down at her right-hand woman.  "Damn straight!"  She turned, meeting each of her staffers' gazes in turn.  "You have run a spectacular campaign, despite my gender, my sordid history, and," she added, with a mischievous look Josh's way, "my occasional hot flashes."

Josh's eyes got very wide, while CJ snickered at the look on his face.

Smiling, Douglas-Radford continued, "Seriously, I would never have made it this far without every single one of you.  I would understand if you decide that playing second fiddle to Haskell's staff isn't what you signed on for, but I would love it if you'd stay.  If you need time to think--"

"I'm in," Josh interrupted, grinning in spite of his solemn tone.

Donna glanced up at him, then nodded at the Governor.  "Me too."

"I'm not going anywhere just yet," CJ decided.

Evan held his wife's gaze.  "I'm with her."

Toby blinked.  "I am not leaving the Vote project in the inept hands of any of you."

Sam grinned at his former boss and said, "I suppose I could stick around a while longer."

Jesse, looking momentarily panicked at being the only one who hadn't spoken, blurted out, "I'm just visiting, but I'll vote for you."

The entire group, including Jesse himself, broke into laughter, and the strange tension dissipated.

Douglas-Radford nodded.  "Excellent.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have an offer to accept."

***

As soon as Douglas-Radford and her husband left, Donna turned to CJ.  "When do we announce--"

"No," Josh and Toby interrupted in unison.  Donna raised an eyebrow at their emphatic replies, but looked to CJ to explain.

CJ rolled her eyes at Josh and Toby and explained, "We don't announce.  And we don't leak.  We don't even hint until we pick a friendly reporter to leak it to.  And even then, it'll have to wait a couple weeks."

"I suppose," Jesse commented, "that means I should keep my mouth shut.  Nothing I heard here leaves this room and all of that stuff you hear in bad movies."

Sam beamed at him.  "Yes."

Donna, touched by Sam's obvious affection for Jesse, smiled warmly at them before turning back to CJ.  "Why not?"

"No one knows for at least two weeks," Josh answered, leaning one hip against Donna's chair.  She craned her neck and looked up at him, wondering exactly how pathetic it was that she found him irresistible even at such an unflattering angle.

Then she pulled her mind back to the sudden campaign developments.  "Because," she guessed, "if we announce now, it would look like Senator Haskell stomped all over the Governor in the polls and then forced her onto the ticket?"

"Pretty much," Josh affirmed, his hand landing on her shoulder.

"Which does neither candidate any good," CJ pointed out.  "The Governor will look like she was strong-armed onto the ticket--"

"And Haskell," Toby interrupted, "will look weak for picking someone who couldn't break thirty-five percent in key states."

Toni shot him a vicious look, but he seemed unperturbed.  Donna frowned, looking back and forth between the two of them.  They seemed different, more comfortable with each other.

"And two weeks from now," CJ said, breaking Donna's train of thought, "Haskell's team leaks the short list with the Governor's name on top."

"We see how the papers play it," Sam nodded.  "The first thing they do is call you for a comment, and then you work your contacts," he told Donna.

She mulled that over.  "Okay.  And in the meantime, our thing is that the Governor would certainly give the offer due consideration if asked, but she will not speculate on--"

"Exactly," Josh answered, grinning down at her with obvious pride.

Donna ducked her head to hide the flush on her cheeks and jotted some notes on her ever-present notepad.  "So what do we do for the next two weeks?"

"Just what we've been doing," Toni offered from her spot near the window.

Toby gave her an unreadable look.  "You want us to keep losing primaries?  I don't think that's going to be a problem."

From anyone else, Donna thought, a remark like that would've drawn a fierce response, but Toni merely rolled her eyes at Toby and said, "We keep gaining percentage points in the primaries, thereby making our addition to the ticket a better and better move for Haskell, the Governor, and the Democratic party."

With a small, wry grin, Toby nodded.  "Okay then."

CJ used Evan's leg to push herself upright.  "All of that starts tomorrow," she declared.  "We've been up almost twenty-four hours, Jesse's here, the Governor's going to be vice-president of the United States, and it's high time for some judicious imbibing."

Donna grinned.  "Excellent.  Where should we go?"

CJ and Sam, the only two in the room who'd actually lived in Los Angeles, locked gazes and began a silent battle of wills.

"We're not going to Manhattan Beach, CJ," Sam said.  "It's too far.  We're too tired.  We'll be asleep before we get there."

"But my favorite blues club--"

"Yeah," Toby interjected sardonically, "'cause we really want to hear blues right now."

CJ glared at him.  "Would you prefer West Hollywood?"

Toni held up one hand.  "We're not going to a club," she decided.  "Find us a nice, dark, quiet bar."

Sam raised his eyebrows.  "In L.A.?"

CJ snorted.  "I know a place on Robertson.  Let's go."

***

Since Angelenos were more than a little militant about their anti-smoking laws, the small bar was dark but not smoky.  Jesse settled in next to Sam.  He wasn't entirely comfortable, considering he was surrounded by his boyfriend's best friends, all of whom were a part of some sort of close-knit campaign-bus gaggle.

Jesse glanced around at them: Toby, the grumpy but brilliant writer, and Sam's mentor to boot; Donna, wounded but resilient, with seemingly unlimited compassion for the downtrodden; CJ, smart, acerbic, and often the voice of reason Sam didn't want to hear.  And then there was Josh.

Sam hadn't talked much about Josh, and Jesse had drawn his own conclusions.  Yet another reason to worry about Sam.  Though Jesse had supported Sam's decision to join the Douglas-Radford campaign, there was a little voice inside him that kept insisting he was going to lose Sam to the Beltway.  But it was a chance he'd had to take, because Sam was carrying around such bitterness.  Jesse had hoped the campaign would help Sam put some of his demons to rest.

It seemed to have worked.  Every phone call home, Jesse could hear a little of that underlying anger leave Sam's tone.  And now, seeing his lover for the first time in almost two months, Jesse was amazed by the transformation.  Sam seemed happy, more self-confident, and comfortable with himself, his friends, and his relationship with Jesse.

Jesse hadn't minded the secrecy, not really.  He'd understood Sam's reluctance to make an issue of his sexuality.  Hell, Jesse had known he was gay for decades.  The first clue was probably when the other boys in his eighth grade class had started discussing the roundness and firmness of Rachel Keene's breasts with great excitement, while Jesse's gut reaction remained, "Eeew, girls!"

Well, that and the undying crush he'd had on Mr. Collins, the science teacher.

Even knowing for so long, acknowledging this facet of yourself -- this thing that will isolate you from some people you care about, make them look at you differently, this thing that will make a vociferous and vicious group of so-called Christians declare war on you -- well, it was quite daunting.

So he hadn't minded when Sam preferred to have dinner and see plays and go sailing with Jesse's friends.  Well, Jesse hadn't minded much; it did smart a little, knowing some part of Sam was embarrassed by him.  But here he was, sitting in a bar with Sam's friends, feeling Sam's hand on his knee.  Any embarrassment Sam may have felt seemed to have disappeared.  It was actually the others who were displaying varying degrees of discomfort.

"So," Josh asked, after a fortifying swig of beer.  He was sitting to the left of Jesse, one hand vaguely gesturing at the space between Sam and Jesse.  "How did you two meet?"

Jesse glanced over at Sam.  "You want the punch line?"

Sam grinned at him.  "Nah.  You tell it better."

"Well," Jesse told Josh, noting with amusement that the entire table seemed to be leaning closer, curious for details, "Sam and I met, like any true post-Starbucks gay couple, over lattés in a little place near Berkeley called the Coffee Fairy."

There was a momentary pause, then surprised laughter.  Josh gave Jesse a disbelieving look.  "The Coffee Fairy?" he demanded.

"I've been there," Donna volunteered, with a short, enthusiastic nod.  "It's not far from campus, and the hazelnut latté's to die for."

Josh rolled his eyes.  "I'm sure.  But -- the Coffee Fairy? That's just..."

"Too disgustingly cute for words?" CJ offered, taking the sting out of her remark with a sweet smile in Jesse's direction.

"And yet," Toby noted dryly, "you seem to be talking anyway."

Jesse relaxed a little, relieved as the curious stares melted into kind of a free for all of barbs and sarcastic quips.  He took a swig of beer, leaned back a bit, and prepared to enjoy the floorshow.

Laughing, Donna gestured with her wine glass.  "Yeah, and you're one to talk, CJ.  You practically brained your future husband--"

"I did not!"

Evan tossed her a smile.  "You really did."  He rubbed the side of his head with exaggerated care.  "I probably should've gotten stitches."

CJ snorted.  "This," she explained dryly, "is what writers call 'embellishment.'"

Amused, Jesse caught her eye.  "You hit him over the head?  Interesting pick-up technique."

"I wasn't picking him up," CJ answered, exasperated.  "And I didn't hit him over the head."

"She was," Evan told Jesse, smirking.  "And she did."

CJ turned to glare at her husband.  "I was reaching for the thing, and it accidentally fell off of the shelf and--"

"Nearly brained your future husband," Jesse finished for her.  "I guess I could've tried something like that.  Maybe I could've spilled hot coffee on you, Sam."

Sam laughed outright.  "You'd probably have regretted it when I handed you my card."

Jesse's smile softened.  "Sam Seaborn, Esquire," he recited.  "Professional Agitator."

"Besides," Josh jumped in, sounding a little too eager, like he was trying to get past an uncomfortable moment.  Jesse had a feeling Josh was still adjusting to the idea of Sam being gay.  "To pull it off, you'd need to have that certain--"

"Je ne sais quoi," Donna supplied, with a strange little wave of her hand.  She caught Josh's amused look and took a sip of her wine.

Josh shrugged.  "I was gonna say 'klutziness,' but whatever."

"Hey," CJ protested, swallowing hastily.  "I am not klutzy."

Toby blinked.  "You've fallen into two pools that I know of."

"Three," Donna corrected, smirking.

"She fell into a pond once," Evan offered.  Then he yelped and rubbed his arm.

"Traitor," CJ growled.

Toni leaned forward to look down the table at CJ.  "And you fell off the campaign bus that time in New Jersey."

Evan perked up.  "Why didn't I hear about that?" He gestured at CJ.  "Was that when you had the bruises on your--"

"Evan!"

Sam leaned toward Jesse and said quietly.  "You see?"

Jesse covered Sam's hand with his own.  "They're great, Sam.  I just wish I'd met them before."

"I'm sorry," Sam answered, eyes downcast.  "I was..."  He shrugged.  "Scared, I guess."

Nodding, Jesse accepted his apology.  "Don't worry about it. I'm here now."

"Good," Sam answered, meeting Jesse's eyes.  "I'm here too."

The words were hardly romantic, but something about that moment in a dark Los Angeles bar under the watchful eyes of Sam's friends, something made it feel like a pledge.  They shared a small smile, then turned their attention back to the others, who were sharing embarrassing stories -- about each other, of course, not themselves -- and growing more boisterous by the moment.

Except for Toby. Jesse caught the older man's eye and was a bit unsettled by the intensity of Toby's gaze.  After downing the last of his Jack Daniels, Toby leaned closer to Sam, but spoke to Jesse, "I'm going to get another round.  Come help me."

Startled, Jesse nodded, released Sam's hand, and rose to follow Toby to the bar.

***

Toby ordered a Jack Daniels, a vodka martini, two glasses of Merlot, one of Zinfandel, three Sam Adams, and an Amstel Light.  Then he examined the scarred wood of the bar top for a moment, gathering his thoughts.  He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say here.  His sisters were older than he; he'd never played the role of overprotective older brother before.

But this was Sam, whose penchant for choosing exactly the wrong person was legendary.  Of course, Toby frowned, Sam had always chosen the wrong woman, and it was pretty clear why.  From what little he'd seen of Jesse, Toby had to admit that Sam's taste in men seemed to be light years better than his taste in women.

At the very least, Jesse wasn't a hooker.  Or a Republican.

The bartender plunked the beer bottles onto the bar; and Toby looked up, unexpectedly meeting Jesse's eyes in the mirrored wall.  The younger man seemed unconcerned, returning Toby's gaze with an unreadable look.

Frustrated, Toby asked, "You're a professor?"  His tone was a little too demanding for such an innocuous question, but Jesse didn't seem to notice.

"Yes," he answered, brightening a bit.  "I teach Organic Chemistry at Berkeley.  I also research stereochemistry and bond symmetry."

"Bond symmetry?" Toby echoed, almost despite himself.

"Yeah," Jesse answered, muted excitement in his tone as he talked about Hydrogen bond symmetry.  Then he stopped short, smiling.  "This can't possibly be interesting to you."

Toby allowed himself the shadow of a grin.  "Not even a little."

Jesse nodded.  "I'll stop talking then."

Toby watched the bartender mix Toni's martini.  The bottles of beer, the wine, and Toby's Jack Daniels stood in a haphazard line on the bar.  Which meant it was almost time to go back to the others.  Toby grimaced, still chafing at the fraternal role he'd assumed.  "How long have you--"

"Listen," Jesse interrupted, turning to face Toby directly.  "If this is headed where I think it is, let's just get it out of the way.  I'll say, 'Sam and I are very happy.'  And then you'll say, 'If you hurt him, you'll have to answer to me.'  And then I'll look scared and vow never to hurt him.  Right?" Jesse grinned.

The corner of Toby's mouth twitched.  "You watch a lot of bad movies?"

Jesse laughed.  "Yup.  It's a sickness."

Toby nodded and began gathering the drinks.  "Okay, all that stuff you just said?  Keep it in mind."

Jesse lifted the remaining glasses.  "Sure."

"After you."  Following the other man back to the table, Toby watched Sam's gaze drifted to Jesse as they drew closer.  Sam smiled, looking genuinely happy for the first time in a very long time.  Then Sam turned a somewhat expectant expression Toby's way.

Toby delivered the drinks, placing Sam's beer in front of him with a quiet, "I like him."  Then he settled back into his seat and pulled out a cigar.  Not that he could smoke it -- damn Californians -- but he could, you know, look at it longingly.  Beside him, Toni gave him a warm smile but didn't comment, instead taking a sip of her martini.

At the other end of the table, CJ, who was already a little tipsy, raised her glass of wine and proposed a toast.  "To the Coffee Fairy!"

Laughing, Josh countered with "To swimming pools!"

"To the President's secret plan to fight inflation," Donna added, snickering.

Beside Toby, Sam lifted his Sam Adams and said, "To the next Vice-President of the United States."

***

"This is monumental," Josh announced.  "This is the sort of thing they build monuments to."

He was fairly bouncing around Donna's hotel room in his efforts to express his excitement.  In between the bouncing and the excessive gesturing, he had somehow managed to strip down to his boxer shorts while lecturing her about the groundbreaking nature of the Governor's inclusion on the national ticket.  The sight of nearly naked Josh on a political high would have given Donna quite a bit of enjoyment if only she hadn't been so damn tired.

"It's 3 a.m.," she mumbled.  She tried closing her eyes, rolling onto her side, and pulling the covers up to her nose.  These subtle hints, however, had no effect on Josh.  He just kept talking.

"A woman as vice-president, Donna."  She rolled back over and opened her eyes.  Josh was bouncing again, albeit a little unsteadily.  She never should have let him have that second beer.  "Do you have any idea how historic this is?"

"It's really not," she pointed out.

His hair was all mussed up from the bouncing and the undressing, and she decided she probably wasn't that tired after all.  "Does the name Geraldine Ferraro ring a bell?"

"But, see, there's the difference.  Yes, we put Geraldine Ferraro on the ticket in the '80s--"

"You say that as though you were personally responsible."

"I was there," he replied defensively.

She fixed him with her most skeptical look.  He backed down.  A bit.

"In the audience," he explained.  "At the convention."

Donna did the math.  "Well, now I know what you were doing when you should have been studying law."

"It was summer vacation."  He was smiling, she noticed, complete with dimples, and moving closer to the bed.  What kind of man, she asked herself, considered her snarking a turn-on?

"Reading up on torts would have killed you?"  Hell, as long as he was responding to it, she might as well play along.

"Quite possibly, yes.  And I believe subsequent events have proved that I made the right choice."

His knees, she noticed, were touching the edge of the bed.  Her edge of the bed.  She tried to look stern and all upset about his invasion of her personal space.  Somehow, judging from the smile she couldn't wipe off her face, she didn't think the whole "stern" thing was working for her.

"Fine," she said.  "Attending political conventions was more useful than studying law."

She noticed with satisfaction that at least her tone of voice sounded stern.  Very much the put-upon fiancée who simply wants a decent night's sleep.  Good job, she told herself.  As long as she kept his attention away from her facial expression, she could win.  She ran one hand along the outside of his thigh, which distracted him nicely.  He sat down at her side, his thigh almost touching her hips.

Sitting up gave her a distinct advantage.  She brushed her foot against Josh's thigh and watched with amusement as his eyes widened and he temporarily lost the ability to continue the conversation.  But then he blinked, took a deep breath, and started talking again.

"Don't you want to know why this is more monumental than the Ferraro nomination?" he asked.

"Let me guess.  Because this time the great Joshua Lyman is more than a mere law student."  She concentrated on stroking his arms, mentally noting that he was getting back into shape.  He didn't have that gaunt, haunted look he'd had when she'd first seen him again last year.

"Because," he said, moving the blanket back down to her ankles, "nominating a woman then was easy.  Mondale was running against Reagan and didn't stand a chance.  So the party got major character points for having the guts to nominate a woman, but no one had to worry about her actually governing."

"And this time is different because...?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Look at the numbers," he answered, his mouth inches away from hers.  "Baker has a very slim lead, considering he's an incumbent.  Haskell has a real chance of winning.  The wrong vice-presidential candidate could cost him the election.  But he's willing to take a chance on a woman.  A very liberal woman."

The conversation lagged for a few minutes as they concentrated on kissing.

"You know," Josh said, breaking off the kiss suddenly, "we need to talk about how to handle Haskell's people."

"We do?"  She was more than a little confused by the change of subject.  Or by the fact that there was any subject after that kiss.

She was even more confused when Josh let go of her and stood up.  He glanced down, apparently looking for his discarded clothing.

"Yes.  Because it's going to be tricky.  Their agenda and ours aren't necessarily the same, and we don't want to antagonize them.  I need to talk to Toby about--"

"Josh," Donna sighed.  "You're not planning on talking to Toby right this minute, are you?"

"Well, yeah."  Apparently, her disapproval was easy to read, as he hesitated, then added, "Maybe.  Why not?"

"It's 3 a.m.," she repeated.

"You think he's not awake?"

"I think," Donna said, taking Josh's hand and pulling him back toward her, "that I'm awake.  Very much awake, if you get my drift."

"But our meeting with Haskell's staff--"

"Isn't for another week."

He grinned down at her.  "There are all these implications to be discussed," he said as he leaned back over her.

"So discuss them with me," Donna suggested.

"You want to discuss the political implications of the Governor's nomination now?"

"Yes," she said, admitting to herself that her tired fiancée cover was completely blown.  She decided that honesty might be the most effective strategy in this case.  "You're very sexy when you talk politics."

"Is that so?" he asked, smirking.  "In that case, how would you like to hear about why we need to get Shallick to agree to debate the Governor?"

***

"Does anybody remember that song?" CJ asked from her usual seat on the campaign bus.  She groaned as the bus lurched away from its parking space and merged onto the freeway.

"What song?" Evan asked.

CJ, who had closed her eyes to ward off the dizzying display of cars whizzing past them, opened one eye and looked at her husband with all the disdain she could muster.  Damn him for holding his liquor better than she did anyway.

"That song," she repeated.  "That morning after thing.  Donna, you know the one I mean, don't you?"

Donna, appearing much too absorbed in the red, white and blue pamphlet she held in her hands, asked absently, "That Janis Ian thing you used to sing?"

"Please, no," Toby muttered.  CJ longed to give him the death glare he so richly deserved.  The only man she felt kindly disposed toward this morning was Josh, whose face had turned an alarming shade of green the moment the bus had rounded its first curve.  However, glaring at Toby would require turning around.  Even the thought of moving her body made CJ nauseated, so she decided to be magnanimous and let Toby live.  Besides, ignoring Toby would drive the sober bastard crazy, and that was revenge enough.

"Yes," CJ finally replied.  "Janis Ian.  That's the one."

"It's called Boy, I Really Tied One On," Donna said.  She followed her answer with a disapproving clucking noise, which struck CJ as uncharacteristically hypocritical.  It wasn't as though Donna hadn't engaged in her own share of drinking last night, after all.

"Lyrics?" CJ asked, too hung over to confirm what the clucking was about.

Donna carefully folded the pamphlet, set it on her lap, and began to sing off-key.

"'I think I'm gonna take the cure, I'm going on the wagon for sure, I may feel a fool for a Sunday or two, but it's better than a Sunday with you.'"

"Pretty much sums it up for me," CJ murmured as she closed her eyes again.

"I thought politicians could drink," Jesse said.  CJ decided that someone needed to explain to him that he was too damn chipper in the morning.  Except, of course, that she'd find his frame of mind pretty darn cute if she weren't dealing with the effects of a night spent celebrating the Governor's Pyrrhic victory.

Evan leaned over her as-near-to-prostrate-as-she-could-manage-on-this-damn-bus body and answered Jesse.  "I used to think that too," he replied conversationally.  "Evidence would seem to indicate that this is just some kind of pop culture stereotype, however."

"Community property is a wonderful concept," CJ said.  "Donna, you should definitely consider getting married in California."

Donna, who had gone back to reading her pamphlet, murmured, "Uh-huh" absently.

If I were feeling at all like myself, CJ thought, I'd ask what was so fascinating about that damn pamphlet and where she got it.

Maybe later.

She had just closed her eyes again when she heard Evan ask, "Hey, Donna, what are you reading?"

CJ opened her eyes in time to see Donna wave the pamphlet in the air.  "'Twenty-Five Things Christians Should Know about the Democratic Party.'  Published by the Association to Protect the Future of America's Families and In Defense of Tradition."

"Who?" Evan asked.

"Why?" Jesse wondered.  "Are there things about the party you guys don't know?"

Their questions, however, were nearly drowned out by the cacophony of indignant, suddenly sober politicos.

"Damn it!  Not Mary Marsh again.  Is that woman trying to single-handedly ruin my life?"

"Where did you get that thing?"

"What does it say?"

"What's the Association to Protect the Future of America's Families?"

CJ watched as Donna somehow managed to pick out the questions and answer them one by one.  Despite her hangover, CJ had to smile.  Donna had learned how to handle a gaggle, whether of reporters or, possibly worse, hung-over campaign staffers.

"First," Donna said, "I got this from Katie."

"Katie who?" Evan asked.

"Katie's here?" CJ smiled.  "Excellent.  They must be taking us seriously."

"Katie," Donna explained for Evan and Jesse's benefit, "is White House correspondent for the Boston Globe.  She showed up yesterday.  Said she had a hunch about this campaign.  She's spent the last two months talking her editor into reassigning her to us."

"And how did she get this hunch?" CJ asked.

Donna's pale skin turned an interesting shade of crimson.  "I may have placed a few calls," she confessed.

"You did what?" Josh sounded horrified.

"I wasn't giving away state secrets, Josh, just dropping a tidbit or two to an old friend.  And now we've got an influential paper's top reporter on our press bus, so shut up."

"I'm just saying that it might have been a good thing if the Boston Globe had shown its interest prior to Super Tuesday," Josh replied.

"Do you think it was easy for Katie to talk her editor into reassigning her to this campaign?  These things take time, Josh."

"So much time that she can now write a lovely op-ed piece on why we lost.  Charming idea."

"No, Josh, she can write a series of pieces about the first successful campaign by a female vice-presidential candidate.  Pieces that will not exactly hurt the Governor in eight years either.  Besides which, Katie's thinking about doing a book on the Governor's campaign.  It's historic, after all."

"Oh, please tell me you didn't leak the news to a reporter."  Josh's voice had taken on quite the whining tone, CJ observed.  Like chalk on a blackboard.

Donna gave Josh an indignant look.  "Of course I didn't do that.  I merely implied that something historic might happen at the convention.  Any conclusion Katie draws from my comments -- my off-the-record comments -- are strictly her own."

Josh groaned and covered his face with his hands.

CJ decided it was time to intervene.  "Oh, come on, Josh.  That's the way the game is played, and you know it.  I've given that same kind of vague heads up--"

"Another word for which might be 'leak,'" Toby muttered.

"--to reporters plenty of times," CJ concluded.  Obviously, she thought, she'd have to work harder on the whole "ignoring Toby" thing.

"It's just -- Haskell could still rescind his offer," Josh pointed out.  "None of this is set in stone."

"Katie's too good to rush into print with a story she hasn't got official confirmation on yet," Donna replied.  "And Haskell's numbers among women are weak.  You can bet someone from his side will be leaking the short list before the end of the day.  I'd rather we had some control over the initial announcement.  We have to think in terms of the big picture.  If the Governor's going to be a viable candidate in eight years, we can't have it look as though she's accepting the consolation prize."

"But isn't that what she's doing?" Jesse asked.  "Isn't being vice-president just about going to funerals the president doesn't have time for and, well, waiting for the president to die?"

The silence that fell over the group was awkward, CJ realized, because no one wanted to tell Sam's boyfriend that he'd just made a major faux pas in front of the survivors of Rosslyn.  She didn't let out her breath until Sam stepped in to explain.

"That's the popular conception of the vice-president's duties," he agreed.  "It's an interesting contradiction actually.  Internally, the vice-president is considered the logical successor when the president's term is up.  The next head of the party and all that.  But the public often sees vice-presidents as inherently weak."

CJ nodded.  "Just a guy -- or a woman, in this case -- who sat around for eight years and did nothing."

"The butt of the joke on late night TV," Donna agreed.

"Can you imagine how much worse that would be in Susan Douglas-Radford's case?" CJ added with a groan.  "Jokes playing on sexist stereotypes?  Comedians implying that she spends her days shopping and gossiping and doing her hair?"

"And on top of all that," Sam added, "there's the problem of the baggage she could inherit from the Haskell administration when it's her turn to run."  He was warming up to the topic, CJ noticed.  His tone of voice was growing faster and more excited; his gestures were becoming more frequent and expansive, as though words alone couldn't convey his point.  "Vice-presidents traditionally get very little credit for an administration's accomplishments, but they're expected to take the blame for everything that went wrong while their predecessor was in office."

"Does the Governor really have to worry about all this now?" Evan asked.

"Yes," CJ, Toby, Sam, Josh and Donna answered in unison.

The five of them stared at one another for a moment before Donna broke the ensuing silence.  "The Governor has to redefine what it means to be vice-president.  She has to take on a more active role than most vice-presidents, but she can't be perceived as undermining President Haskell's authority."

"She has to establish herself as a leader," CJ agreed, "but not come off as the Beltway's version of Lady Macbeth."

"It's an interesting challenge," Donna agreed.  "Also, it would make one hell of a doctoral dissertation topic."

Josh put one hand over Donna's.  "I can see us now," he said.  "Dr. and Mr. Lyman.  My mother will be so proud."

"Dr. Moss and Mr. Lyman," Donna corrected him.

"How about--"

"As fascinated as I am listening to you two bicker about your domestic arrangements," Toby said, "I was hoping we'd learn about that pamphlet some time before the Governor takes office."

"Oh, right," Donna said, her gaze dropping from Josh's face back down to the brochure she still held in one hand.  "The pamphlet.  This could be kind of a thing."

***

Evan leaned back in the bench seat, draping one arm over the top of the bench.  "The whole bunch of them can be kind of intimidating," he remarked.

Jesse looked up from the menu.  "They seem very nice."

"Oh, they are," Evan answered, pausing as their server arrived bearing freshly baked bread.  The two men ordered, then dug into the bread.  It was several minutes before they picked up the conversation: food was not one of the things the campaign staffers tended to focus on.  Evan would swear all of them, his delightful wife included, could go days forgetting to eat if the political crisis were interesting enough.

Jesse slathered butter on a piece of sourdough bread.  "Did you know Toby Ziegler gave me a little talking to at the bar last night?"

Evan laughed, trying to picture the taciturn Toby gruffly questioning Jesse about his intentions.  "He probably would have tried that with me too," Evan said, "but CJ knows him too well.  She told me after the wedding that she picked him up from SFO precisely so she could tell him he was not, under any circumstances, to act like an ass.  Which I guess included grilling me."

Jesse nodded thoughtfully, swallowing before he answered.  "I don't think it would occur to Sam that Toby cares enough to do that for him, you know?"

Shrugging, Evan said, "I don't know Sam well enough to say.  He and CJ--"  Evan paused, not wanting to get into the sordid tale.  "They drifted," he said finally.  "After the MS scandal."

"Ah," Jesse commented.  "You've been admonished not to call it Healthgate too, huh?"

"Yeah, they get a bit touchy about that."

Jesse sipped at his iced tea.  "Look, I've never pressed Sam for details, but I'm not stupid.  I know he had a thing for Josh.  You don't have to censor yourself around me."

Evan studied the man across from him, his writer's mind searching for the perfect, one line description that would capture his essence.  He frowned, unsuccessful.  "I don't think there was any one thing that soured their friendships," he commented.  "I know CJ missed Sam, and she missed Toby, and she tried to tell herself that she didn't miss Josh, but she did.  I can't imagine what it was like for them, in the middle of all of that.  Watching from the outside, not knowing any of them -- well, it's easy to believe the worst, you know?"

Smiling a bit, Jesse pushed his bread plate away.  "I recognized Sam the first time I saw him, but I couldn't place him.  I knew I'd seen him before, but then again, he looks like a pinup, so..." Jesse shrugged.  "I thought for a while that I must've seen him in some independent film."

Evan laughed.  "Sam as an actor," he mused.  "If acting's the same as lying, he'd have quite a problem."

"Yeah," Jesse grinned.  "He's a shitty liar.  But still, with that face?  That man should be on posters, you know?"  His gaze lost a little of its focus, and he toyed with his napkin.  "I wonder, sometimes.  I mean -- I'm a chemistry professor, you know?"

"Believe me, I understand," Evan nodded, recalling a hundred images of CJ laughing, CJ magnificently angry, CJ climbing wet, embarrassed, and helplessly amused out of a pond.  He thought about her sometimes gawky grace, her infectious humor, her sardonic barbs, her long, delicate hands, and her incredible legs.

When he pulled himself from his reverie, Jesse was giving him a knowing look.  "Man, we're pathetic," he commented.

Evan acknowledged the hit with a shrug.  "True."

"Shouldn't we do manly things?"

Evan chuckled.  "Do you have any suggestions?"

"I dunno," Jesse shrugged.  "Talk about sports?"

"Have you had time to follow sports lately?"

Jesse frowned, his forehead crinkling a bit.  "Well," he said finally.  "I think it's baseball season."

Evan brightened a little.  "Yeah, it is.  The Giants are doing okay.  I think."

Jesse nodded.  "Last I heard they were, yeah.  Three games over 500."

"Anything new on the stadium?" Evan asked.  He leaned back, allowing the waiter to deposit their meals.  "Thanks."

Assembling his sandwich, Jesse answered, "Yeah, the stupid legislature is letting them form a sports authority."

"Oh, great," Evan groaned.  "So a major league sports franchise -- who no one elected to anything -- can acquire some governmental powers and take land away for the new stadium?  That's sick."

"No kidding," Jesse nodded, warming to the topic.  "What kind of precedent does that set?  I mean, can Berkeley decide to build a brand new chem lab and form their own arm of the government to toss out the taxpaying citizens--"  He stopped short, blinking.  "Okay, now I'm really scared."

Evan sighed.  "We can't even discuss sports without ending up back at politics."

Lowering his voice, Jesse leaned in and confessed, "I don't even like politics.  More often than not, I wanna chuck the whole lot of 'em in the Bay."

"Who you tellin'?" Evan answered, disheartened.  When had he become a political person?  Damn that bewitching wife of his, anyway.  "Man, you've got to promise me something."

"Sure," Jesse agreed, looking a little glum.

"The first time you hear me bring the Bartletspeak--"

"Evan," Jesse laughed.  "You just did!"

Frowning, Evan reviewed his words, horrified when he realized he'd used the ridiculous "bring the whatever" grammatical construction.  "Damn."  He met Jesse's amused gaze and shook his head, the corners of his mouth quirking upward.  "It's too late for us, isn't it?"

"I think it is, Evan," Jesse answered sagely.  "I think it is."

***

It was Donna's turn to have her room shanghaied as de facto campaign headquarters.  Toby had done the calculations in his head five times.  He had thought through every campaign stop since New Hampshire.  He had an excellent memory, and he could recall exactly who had hosted their meetings in every state, every city and every precinct.

It was Donna's turn.

Yet no one was huddled in Donna's hotel room discussing campaign strategy.  No one was knocking on Donna's door at inconvenient moments.  No one was announcing, "We'll meet in Donna's room in half an hour."

Instead, they had all congregated in Toby's room.  Never mind that he and Sam needed to iron out what the Governor would say when she publicly accepted Haskell's offer.  Forget the fact that her statement had two major goals: to avoid offending Haskell's camp and to ensure that the Governor sounded like she was winning a major victory rather than accepting the consolation prize.  Pretend that this five-minute speech wouldn't be played on all the networks from now until there was convention footage to replace it.  Rather than working on that, he was forced to listen to Josh, CJ and Sam read excerpts from the so-called "voter guides."

"'Certainly a public servant's character can be judged on the basis of the types of people he surrounds himself with,'" Sam read.

"'He'?" CJ, who had claimed the room's only comfortable chair, asked.  "Did the Governor have a sex change operation and neglect to tell us?"

"What about the logical fallacy?  Whoever wrote this is assuming that character is related to who you hire," Josh pointed out.  One day, Toby reflected, he really was going to have to ask Josh how standing against the wall like that was supposed to relieve stress.  And whether it worked.

"Not to mention that 'character' is a nebulous concept," CJ said.  Catching Toby's look, she added, "Yes, Tobus, I can use big words like nebulous.  What does it mean in this context?  Does it refer to the Governor's honesty?  Because I think that's pretty well established at this point.  Her personality?  Because what precisely does that have to do with her stand on the issues?  Shouldn't a voter's guide be concentrating on her stand on the issues?"

"Guys, do you want me to go on?" Sam asked.  Sam had perched on the table where Toby had planned to set up his notes and computer.  Consequently, Toby's computer lay unopened in its carrying case, his notes folded inside one of its compartments.  He wanted his computer and his notes.  Also some Jack Daniels.

Following a nod from Josh, Sam continued reading.  "'The campaign of Governor Douglas-Radford for the Democratic nomination has been masterminded by a group of individuals--"

Toby groaned.  "Whoever wrote this tripe has an unnatural fondness for prepositional phrases."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to comment on the writing," Sam said.  He was much too chipper, no doubt because none of this was happening in his hotel room.  "Anyway, it's the usual stuff there: Bartlet's senior staff, the MS, you know the drill."

"So the attack is on us, not on the Governor?" Josh asked.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Sam replied.  "We take our hits here, but then they go on to bring up the Governor's arrest and her admission that she smoked pot in college."

"Let me see."  CJ waved her fingers to indicate that Sam should hand the pamphlet over to her -- no doubt, Toby thought, because she didn't want to take a chance that she'd lose her chair if she stood up.  "Oh," she said, after perusing the guide for a minute, "that's not good."

"What's not good?" Josh asked.  "And exactly how not good is it?"

"Well," CJ started, "they got the facts wrong.  They're back to the erroneous charge that the Governor was arrested for drug use."

"We could work with that," Toby said.  "The facts are a matter of public record.  God knows CNN has played that damn soundbite enough times.  People know the story by now."

"Yes," Josh said, "but if we go on the defensive, we're spending our time giving credence to these charges."

"Leaving people to think that there must be something to the story after all," CJ added.

"Otherwise why would we spend so much time denying the charge?" Sam asked.

"Is it even an issue?" Toby asked.  "These pamphlets went out to fundamentalist Christian sects.  I doubt that the people who read them were inclined to vote for a Haskell/Douglas-Radford ticket in the first place."

"It's an issue if the mainstream press gets hold of them," CJ said.

"And how likely is that to happen?" Sam wondered.

"I'd say it's pretty likely."

Toby, Josh, Sam and CJ turned in unison toward the door where Donna now stood, cell phone in hand.

"I just got off the phone with Alana Lang from Larry King's office," she said.  "They want someone on the show tomorrow to discuss the Governor's response to the pamphlets."  She looked at Josh, a tight smile on her face.  "And in the interest of equal time, whoever goes on gets to debate the issue with Mary Marsh."

***

The question of who would represent them on Larry King Live turned out to be more controversial than Donna had expected.  The minute Mary Marsh's name was mentioned, Josh wanted the task himself.  CJ thought Donna should do it.  Donna, on the other hand, was convinced that the job called for someone with CJ's level of experience.

Neither Toby nor Sam voiced an opinion at first, although Sam did have a question.

"Who did King's people ask for?"

"The Governor, of course," Donna told him.  All the chairs were taken, so she confiscated a corner of the bed.  Then she wondered why Toby looked so dour.  "I told them that's not going to happen."

"Typical," Josh said.  "Before Super Tuesday, we couldn't have gotten an hour on Larry King."

"Before Super Tuesday," CJ replied, "the story wasn't who'll get the vice-presidential spot.  Obviously, they're hoping for an admission that she's in the running."

"See?"  Donna said as she stretched out on the bed and propped her head against a pillow.  "You're much less likely to let something slip than anyone else. It has to be you."

"She has a point," Sam said.  "If we make a mistake now, Haskell's people might see it as grandstanding.  They might even rescind the offer.  We have to be very careful until the announcement."

"Exactly," Donna agreed.  "CJ's the obvious choice here.  She's used to the format."

"Hey!" Josh protested.  "Several of us have done national TV before."

"All of us actually," Toby corrected.

"Some of us," Donna said, ignoring Toby and keeping her eyes on Josh, "get hostile around Mary Marsh."

"I can handle Mary Marsh," Josh replied.

"CJ, give me that pamphlet," Donna ordered.

The minute CJ stood up, Toby moved and took the cushy chair she'd been sitting in.  CJ glared at him, then sat down cross-legged, her back against the dresser.  Donna couldn't help but notice that this meant no one could get to the minibar without CJ's consent.

Donna had to admire a woman who knew how to wield power like that.

Turning her attention to the pamphlet, Donna skimmed down to the section she'd been looking for.  "'Although Christian charity requires us to pity Joshua Lyman, the victim of a tragic shooting, we cannot forget that his mental health was called into question during the Congressional investigation.'"  She looked back up at Josh, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

"Yeah," he said nonchalantly, "that was pretty much predictable."

It might have fooled another audience.  She, however, had too many years of observing Josh's body language to be conned.  She could tell from the way one hand balled into a fist and the fact that he chose that moment to press his back a little harder against the wall that he was upset.

While she admired Josh's ability to hang on to his temper so far, she was certain this next part would get him.  Mostly because she was seething over it herself.  "'His parents, Adira and Noah Lyman (né Liemoneski)--"

"Well, there's a tragic misuse of French," Sam commented.  "What?" he added, glancing at Toby.  "You're the only one who's allowed to snark bad writing?"

"In this case," Toby said, "I don't think it's the misuse of né that's the problem.  It's getting at--"

"We all know what it's getting at, Toby," Sam said.  "I just think--"

"Do you two mind?" Josh asked, his voice getting noticeably louder.  "I'd like to hear what the hell this thing says about my parents."

Donna took a deep breath and started over.  "'His parents, Adira and Noah Lyman (né Liemoneski), were both well-known eastern liberals whose work contributed to the eroding family values so--'"

"'Eroding family values'?" Josh repeated.  "They raised two children.  Dad took I-don't-know-how-many civil liberties cases pro bono.  My mother runs one of the first women's shelters in New England.  In what universe does all that add up to eroding family values?"  Apparently, standing against the wall was no longer enough to relieve his stress, since Josh had begun to pace around the room.

"What are you doing?" Donna asked.

"I'm looking for my cell phone," Josh answered.  "Mary and I are going to have a little talk."

"No you're not."  She hopped off the bed and grabbed the cell phone on the table before Josh could reach it.  "You are definitely not going to do that."

"Donna," Josh protested, "I can't let Mary Marsh and her band of bigots get away with that stuff."

"If you call her, you can bet she'll go public with it.  And then it's a national story.  We have to keep the public focused on the issues, not on this nonsense.  Which is all the more reason you shouldn't be the one appearing on Larry King tomorrow."

"I can focus on the issues," Josh insisted.

"Usually," Donna agreed.  "But not so much right now, I'm thinking."

"Here's a radical idea," CJ said.  "Why not have the press secretary handle the press?"

"No," Donna replied, "I'm not the one who should go on TV.  If you don't want to do it, Toby or Sam--"

"I don't think so," Sam replied thoughtfully.  "Donna, you should do it.  It's the perfect visual.  I know the feminists in the room will kill me for this, but do we want Toby or me glaring at Mary Marsh, looking like the guy--"

"The Jewish guy or the gay guy," Toby pointed out thoughtfully.

"Exactly."  Sam nodded in agreement.  "The gay guy or the Jewish guy looming over the defenseless little woman?  Instead, we send Donna out there.  Then the visual is dour, humorless Mary Marsh against--"  He gestured toward Donna.  "Well, look at her.  Who's more likely to win the audience over?"

"I hate that," CJ said.  "It sounds like we're playing into the very stereotypes we're supposed to be working against."

"Good," Donna answered.  "Then you do the program."

"No." CJ sighed.  "For one thing, if I do it, they'll inevitably bring up the stuff about Evan and frankly I'm not sure I'd hold my temper any better than Josh would.  You're more likely to keep the discussion focused on the issues."

"Right," Donna replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster.  "Because, really, I'm not mentioned in this thing at all."

"Why?  What does it say about you?" Josh asked.  He started to grab the pamphlet; and Donna stepped back, putting it out of his reach.

"The usual things," Donna admitted.  "I slept my way into the White House.  The only reason you've ever hired me for anything is because we're sleeping together.  Really, Josh, it's nothing we haven't heard before."

"That does it," Josh announced.  He took out his wallet, throwing a dollar in Sam's direction.  "Sam, I am formally retaining you as my lawyer.  I want to sue that woman and her entire organization for libel--"

Deciding it was time for a private discussion, Donna pushed Josh toward the door.  "We'll be back in a minute," she called over her shoulder as they left the room.

"Josh," Donna said, once they were alone.  "Let it go.  It's really not worth the effort."

"I think it is."

"You can't fly off the handle like this every time someone attacks your family."

"Why not?" he protested.  "You think I can't handle Mary Marsh?"

"I have my doubts," Donna replied.  "When the people you love are threatened, you go ballistic.  As your fiancée, I love you for it.  As press secretary, I live in fear of what you'd say.  CJ's used to dealing with situations like this in the pressroom.  You're not.  Case closed.  As for doing something as pointless as suing Mary Marsh--"

"I don't consider it pointless to--"

"You know what would happen?  The press would have a field day.  Mary Marsh, defender of traditional middle-class values--"

"That's a joke."

"Yes.  But that's the way at least part of the press would play it.  So it's Mary Marsh and her grassroots band of idiots versus the professional politico.  And you're not going to like this one bit, Josh, but I have to say it: this becomes a bigger story because of the shooting.  Even people who don't follow politics know who you are because of Rosslyn.  So get ready for months of retrospectives about that night.  Get ready to turn on the TV and see yourself getting shot again and again and again.  Then when that's over, get ready for the hearings being replayed.  Get ready for the interviews with anyone who was around when -- during those months right after the shooting.  Because you'll be news, and you'll have to relive every moment of that."

This, Donna thought, was a large part of why she loved Josh.  Because even as the color drained right out of his face, he didn't back down.  As far as he was concerned, all that mattered was the attack on the people he loved most.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, his characteristic stubbornness visible in the way he narrowed his eyes and stood just a little straighter.  "I'm not letting these bastards get away with--"

"They won't get away with anything if we handle the Larry King interview correctly," Donna pointed out.  "And if we don't and you make this into a thing, we divert attention from the Governor and Senator Haskell. Minutes of air time every night devoted to the Beltway infighting instead of to the Party's stand on the issues.  And that is exactly what the people who wrote the stupid pamphlet want."

They spent the next few minutes staring at one another.  Josh, Donna was surprised to realize, was the one who backed down first.  "Very convincing argument, Donnatella," he said at last.

She felt her damn pale skin growing warm and silently cursed her inability to take a compliment in stride.  "Well, I do have an idea of how the press would play this," she managed to say.

"Yes, you do," Josh answered.  The bastard was smirking, which meant he was up to -- oh, hell, Donna thought, realizing what his next move would be.

"So here's my offer," Josh continued.  "I will drop my entirely justified desire to make Mary Marsh and her cronies pay if you will represent us on Larry King tonight."

"No.  Absolutely not.  I'm not ready."

"Yes, you are.  Hell, if you can talk me out of something, you can handle Mary Marsh."  He gave her one of his rare self-deprecating smiles, and she acknowledged to herself that she had lost.

Still, she felt the need to make one last protest.  "I'm not sure--"

"I'm sure.  CJ's sure.  So are Toby and Sam."  He wrapped one arm around her.  "You can do this, Donna.  I have faith in you."

That, Donna realized, was the clincher.  When Josh said things like that, she honestly believed she could do anything.  Or maybe it was just that he could convince her to do anything when he looked at her like that.

"All right," she agreed, "I'll do it.  But I want it on the record that if I screw up, it's your fault."

"So noted," Josh replied.  He kissed her gently on the forehead.  Then he opened the door and announced, "Hey, guys, I talked Donna into going on TV tonight."

Suddenly, CJ was at her side, pulling her away from Josh while she listed all the things they needed to do before Donna's TV appearance.  Donna glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Josh following along.  Sam brought up the rear, issuing assurances and suggesting talking points.

Only Toby, sitting in the corner, remained quiet.  He was the most objective, and the least he could do was say something, because that Tobyexpression was about as readable as hieroglyphs and it was disconcerting, to say the least.

"You'll do fine," Toby said, and suddenly Donna felt much better.  "Now," he added, "will you morons get out of my room?"

***

"So here's an unexpected little..." Toni paused, frowning, as the door opened and the wrong face peered out at her.

Tom Radford stood just inside his and the Governor's suite, looking a bit harried.  "Morning, Toni."

She raised an eyebrow.  "But not a good morning?"

The edge of his mouth turned up.  "Oh, no.  I'm not even going to get involved with that."

Toni tried for wrongfully accused.  "Involved with what?"

He shook his head, not buying it for a second.  "Whatever bad news you've come to deliver.  You can tell her yourself."

"How do you know it's bad news?" Toni demanded, flattening the pamphlet against the side of her leg.  "I could be here with wonderful polling numbers."

"Right," Tom scoffed, "and 'so here's an unexpected little' whatever would surely have been your opening line for that."

Toni sighed.  "Yeah, okay.  She's in there?"

Tom nodded.  "Is it bad?"

She shrugged in lieu of an answer.  The thing was, she wasn't entirely sure how to phrase it without causing a minor explosion, and Toni didn't relish the role of dead messenger.  She edged farther into the suite, peering into the next room to catch a glimpse of the Governor.  When she turned back to Tom, all she saw was his back disappearing into the adjoining room.  He glanced back as he closed the door.  "Good luck."

Wuss, Toni thought.  Then she edged into the room and approached her boss cautiously.

Governor Susan Douglas-Radford looked up from the New York Times and sighed.  "Running for office is a pain in the ass, Toni."

"Yes, it is, ma'am," Toni agreed.

"It's a wonder the government doesn't end up advertising in the paper," she continued.  "'American People Seek Leader of Free World.  Bright, articulate, over-35 citizen sought for exciting career:  Travel the world; act as verbal target for Congress and late night talk show hosts; inhabit uniquely-shaped office for up to eight years.  Please submit résumé to CNN.'"

Toni coughed to cover her laugh. "Yes.  Well.  Be that as it may, Governor, I've got--"

"The latest crisis," Douglas-Radford said.  "Shoot."

"Well, there's no question you could look at it as a crisis."  Toni dropped into a seat across from the Governor, the small glass coffee table between them.  Of course, the glass was all but obscured by the seven major dailies, plus a healthy serving of briefing memos, position papers, and polling books.

The Governor raised an eyebrow.  "There's another way to look at it?"

"Sure," Toni nodded.  "You could look at it as an opportunity."  She glanced reflexively at the glossy pamphlet in her hand.  "See, the Republicans have aligned themselves with the Christian Right more and more over the past two decades or so, and we can use this particular... uh, this brochure to beat them over the head with that affiliation."

Douglas-Radford held out a hand.  "Brochure?"

Damn, Toni thought.  Trust the Governor to dive right into the problem.  "It's a voting guide.  Well, it claims to be a voting guide."

The Governor's expression grew stormy.  "Produced by whom?"

"The ubiquitous In Defense of Tradition--"

"You know, Josh calls them 'IDIOT,'" Douglas-Radford remarked.

"A well-deserved moniker," Toni said.  "Anyway, this is the handiwork of IDIOT and something called the Association to Protect the Future of America's Families, and I really think--"

Douglas-Radford leaned closer, her eyes bright.  "Wait -- APFAF's involved in this?"

"Yes.  Quite the acronym."

The Governor ignored her sarcastic remark and reached out for the pamphlet.  "Let me see that."

Toni handed over the pamphlet without comment, merely waiting for the Governor's reaction.  She wasn't disappointed; Douglas-Radford's mouth tightened as she read and her fingers tapped against her leg, a sure sign she was about to blow.

"Son of a bitch," Douglas-Radford said finally, still skimming.  "'Media Director CJ Cregg was involved in the cover up of former President Bartlet's sickness; she lied repeatedly to the press about the President's health, and she is now in charge of manipulating the media for Governor Susan Douglas-Radford.'"  The Governor looked up.  "This is such crap."

Toni nodded.  "I know."

The Governor read on, making small noises of disbelief.  "'Vice-President Henry Shallick has long been regarded as one of the premiere politicians of our day'?  'Shallick's record in the House of Representatives shows that he consistently voted in favor of measures that would protect the rights of individuals.'"  Douglas-Radford snorted.  "Yeah, individuals who are rich, white, and male, maybe."

Toni nodded.  "Yeah.  The whole thing is just about what you'd expect: Glowing reviews of the Republican candidates, and scathing, scare-mongering blurbs on our people."

"How is this legal?" the Governor demanded.

"Oh, it's nonpartisan," Toni answered sarcastically.  "They're not taking sides; they're just presenting a brief bio of each candidate with no intent to sway voters.  Can't you tell?"

"This is crap, Toni," Douglas-Radford repeated.  "These guides are going to be quoted all over the damn place."

"Right, but it's all misinformation or heavily distorted information.  I say we go on the offensive."

The Governor gave her an incredulous look.  "And say, 'Well, yes, CJ Cregg was investigated by a Congressional panel, but there wasn't enough evidence--"

"No," Toni interrupted.  "We defend CJ and Josh and Toby and Sam.  We say there was absolutely no wrongdoing on their part, and this attempt to drudge up the past in what is supposed to be a nonpartisan, neutral voting guide--"

"It's a church group?"

"Tax exempt, yes," Toni answered.  "The government's staying out of this church's business; the least the church could do is return the favor."

Douglas-Radford nodded thoughtfully.  "My memory's pretty good, Toni."

Flummoxed, Toni nodded.  "Yes, ma'am."

"I mention that because I seem to remember an interesting article -- I think it was in Mother Jones -- on a certain minister, a--"  She stopped, frowning, her eyes narrowing as she tried to recall the name.  "Parvelle," she said with a snap of her fingers.  "Jim Parvelle.  That ring a bell?"

Toni gnawed absently on her lip, trying to remember why that name sounded familiar.  "No," she shrugged.  "Not really."

Douglas-Radford nodded slowly.  "I'll give you a hint:  Remember three years ago this past January, that certain weekend that most of the Democrats I know spent fully soused--"

"The Inauguration?" Toni frowned.  "What about it?"

"The right Reverend Jim Parvelle gave the invocation," the Governor answered, her eyes scanning the brightly colored pamphlet again.  "Do you know whose organization APFAF is?"

Toni's jaw dropped.  "No," she said in giddy disbelief.  It couldn't be.

Douglas-Radford tossed the pamphlet onto the table, leaned back in her seat, and crossed her hands demurely on her abdomen.  "Hell, yes, Toni.  Jim Parvelle started APFAF with the money he bilked from the faithful via his syndicated television ministry.  Have Donna look into it; I don't recall the exact details of exactly what APFAF is supposed to do, but it's got at least circumstantial ties to Baker."

"Which means it's got political ties," Toni guessed. Almost reverently, she retrieved the pamphlet from the coffee table.  "Well," she said.  "We've certainly got a long day of investigating ahead of us."

"Why?" Douglas-Radford asked.

Toni pushed herself upright.  "Donna's going on Larry King tonight.  Know what the topic is?"

The Governor started to smile.  "You know, this day's beginning to look up, Toni."

Toni grinned.  "Hell, yes, Governor."

***

Josh stood as far away from the television as possible, pressing his spine against the wall so hard he could feel each individual vertebra.  Obviously, that wasn't helping his tension.

"Josh, come on," Sam chided from his seat near the TV.  "The first segment was fine.  She's doing great."

"I can't watch," Josh answered, eyes squeezed shut.

Frustrated with his behavior, which she'd said would be embarrassing for her eight-year-old niece, CJ half-yelled, "You're the one who said she could do this."

"She can!" Josh answered immediately.  "I have every confidence that she can.  Only... what if she can't?"

"She can," Toby retorted.  "She has been."

"It's back on," Toni pointed out.  "Josh either shut up or get your ass over here."

"I'm good here," he answered, straining to hear Donna.  It wasn't hard, considering CJ's tendency to crank the volume.  It didn't do his frayed nerves much good to hear Mary Marsh prattle on at bullhorn-like levels.

"Mary," Donna said, attempting to get a word in edgewise.  Josh opened one eye, noting that she appeared relaxed, comfortable, confident.  Only those who knew her well would recognize that slightly wide-eyed look as abject fear.  Josh's other eye opened and he leaned forward a little, forgetting all about vertebrae alignment.

"Mary--" Donna tried again, her slight smile the only indication that she was incredibly frustrated.  But Mary Marsh kept right on talking about fitness of character.  When she paused for breath, Donna jumped in before Larry had a chance.  "Mary, do you consider yourself a political leader or a religious leader?"

Mary Marsh might have been a reprehensible hypocrite, but she was canny.  She wouldn't have made it to the top of her -- Josh hesitated to call it a profession but couldn't think of another word -- without knowing how to talk her way out of the stickiest of situations.  On screen, Mary deftly sidestepped the question, answering with a rather snooty, "I think of my role as the head of In Defense of Tradition as a position of moral leadership."

Donna nodded, eyes wide, expression respectful.  "Moral leadership."

Larry held up a hand, not liking the camera to be off of him for too long a stretch.  "Mary, what role does a moral leader have in politics?"

CJ made a strange, victorious gesture with one hand, which Josh thought was decidedly premature.  "The hell, CJ?" he demanded, edging even closer to the rest of the group, abandoning the wall altogether.

"Larry's asking the question Donna would have," CJ explained absently, her attention still focused on the television.  "This way, it's not the heathen liberal feminist attacking the upright religious leader, it's a journalist asking a legitimate question."

Josh didn't hear the end of CJ's explanation, caught up as he was in Mary's preening as she recounted her organization's efforts to help end abortion ("baby killing"), welfare ("government handouts"), and gay marriage ("the devaluation of the bond of marriage shared by millions of Christian Americans.  And others").

Toby made a disgusted noise.  Though Toby had always been the most liberal of the group, he'd become rather protective of Sam since he met Jesse.  Josh suspected Toby lived in fear of the day Sam's personal life was splashed all over the tabloids.  "Bigot," Toby muttered.  "Scared, homophobic little bigot."

Sam seemed not to know what to say, so he just nodded, wide eyes on Toby.  Josh grinned a little and was about to comment when he heard Donna again.

"Could you please explain," Donna requested, still using her best innocent, hapless blonde girl face.  For someone who'd been miffed at the idea of playing on sexist stereotypes, Josh thought, she sure had embraced the role.  "How do these voter guides fit in with your role as a moral leader?"

"I'm surprised Donna got that out without choking," Sam remarked.  "Moral leader, my--"

"Could you all please shut up?" Toni demanded, waving one hand a bit wildly in the air.  Then she glanced over at them and added a belated, "Please?"

Josh turned his attention back to the TV, noting with a bit of surprise that he'd somehow moved up a good five or six feet and was now at CJ's elbow, practically at the foot of the television set.

On screen, Mary sniffed, then answered, "The voter guides that In Defense of Tradition produces are intended as a quick reference for our flock.  We provide key information on all of the candidates, focusing especially on those issues that we believe most concern Christian Americans."

"Surely," Larry King interrupted, "you don't believe that the people who belong to your organization are the only Christian Americans."

"No," Mary smiled, trying her best to appear warm and welcoming.  It was not a particularly convincing performance.  "Certainly not.  The vast majority of Americans are Christians--"

"I'm sure," Donna interrupted, with an apologetic look, "that the millions of Jews and Hindus and Muslims and Buddhists in America would be surprised to hear that."  Before Mary could fire back, Donna switched subjects as only she could.  "Tell me, do you believe the Founders meant for religious establishments to play an active role in the political life of this country?"

Mary's expression soured a bit.  "I believe that religion plays an incredibly important role in the social and moral life of this country, which of course means that religion influences politics."

Larry raised a hand.  "What about separation of church and state, Mary?"

"There is no conflict," Mary declared.  "Churches can absolutely take moral stances on issues that have political dimensions, like the state-sanctioned killing of millions of innocent children, without threatening the separation of church and state.  Which is precisely what these voting guides--"

"Mary -- I apologize for interrupting you," Donna said, her tone almost demure.  Josh leaned closer, perched on the edge of the chair, his elbows on his knees and eyes trained on her image.  "But do you believe that your role as a moral and religious leader should necessarily mean that you follow the Ten Commandments?"

Flustered, Mary shook her head the tiniest bit in disbelief.

"Yes," CJ crowed.  "That'll play like she's lying when she says yes."

"I absolutely do believe that," Mary managed.  "It is every Christian's duty to abide by the Ten Commandments."

"Even 'thou shalt not bear false witness'?" Donna pressed.

"Of course."

Larry leaned back a little, his hawkish gaze on Donna as she moved in for the kill.  "Mary," Donna said, "I'm quoting the voting guide your organization, and President Baker's close friend Jim Parvelle and his organization, Association to Protect the Future of America's Families, distributed over the past several weeks:  'Governor Susan Douglas-Radford was arrested in the late 1960s for drug abuse.'"  Donna looked up at Mary.  "Would you like me to have the police precinct send you a copy of the incident report that shows clearly and unequivocally that the Governor -- along with three hundred of her politically motivated fellow college students -- was brought in for disturbing the peace at what contemporaneous newspaper accounts call a peaceful protest?"

Mary opened her mouth to reply.  "That's not--"

"That's exactly what this says, Mary," Donna argued.  "And I don't see how you can possibly call this a nonpartisan, apolitical voting guide, considering it recycles and, in some cases, reinvents the more malicious tactics of the Republican Party in their amoral attempts to keep the White House at all costs."

CJ cheered, Sam clapped, Toni and Toby exchanged pleased looks, and Josh just stared at the television screen.  "That," he declared, "is the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my entire life."

***

"You're going to get the question," CJ repeated for the fourteenth or fifteenth time.  She felt like Cassandra, shrieking political truths into the night, only to be soundly ignored.  "Governor, are you listening to me?"

Susan Douglas-Radford turned to CJ from her position in the only comfortable armchair in the hotel suite.  She was a study in contrasts this morning, a strange mix of languor and anticipation.  "Nah," the Governor admitted, the hint of a smile on her face.  "But in my defense, I heard you make the same point seven or eight times already."

"Governor--"

"CJ," Toni interrupted, looking up from the latest polling numbers.  The Governor was doing quite well among urban women, Democrats, and a surprising number of pro-choice Republicans (of which there were, admittedly, very few).  "We know she's going to get the question."

Her mouth pinched a little with frustration, CJ nodded.  "Okay, so don't you think now would be a good time to discuss her answer?  Before she, you know, gives it?"

"My answer," Douglas-Radford interjected, taking a sip of her coffee, "is exactly what you want it to be."  With that, she turned her gaze back toward the window.

CJ had to stifle the urge to shout and throw things until they listened to her advice, damn it.  Before she could do anything rash, Donna and Josh arrived.  From her spot near the door, CJ turned a relieved look the press secretary's way.  "Donna, glad you could join us."  She allowed the slightest hint of sarcasm to paint her words, as Donna was supposed to have met her here almost ten minutes earlier.

The younger woman gave Josh an annoyed look.  "I was delayed."

Josh rolled his eyes.  "You still haven't answered my question."

"Because it's stupid," she retorted, not even turning to look at him.

The Governor touched Donna's shoulder.  "Nice job on Larry King, Donna.  You did wonderfully."

Flushing a bit, Donna nodded.  "Thanks.  I just repeated the information CJ--"

"Quit it," CJ ordered.  "You revealed the thing about APFAF at the perfect moment.  Not only did the Baker-APFAF connection make the papers this morning, but in the ensuing debate, Larry King never got to ask about the possibility of the Governor getting the VP slot on the ticket.  It's a double-hitter."

Josh grimaced. "CJ, I believe you're mixing up a 'double' and a 'no-hitter.'"

CJ waved him off, unconcerned.  "Okay, so it was a no-hitter.  Whatever. Larry didn't ask, so Donna didn't have to dodge."

"Are we going to bring dodge ball into the land of misused sports metaphors?" Josh muttered.

Donna ignored him and grinned at CJ.  "I know."  She gave a little shrug.  "I was pretty surprised at how well it turned out."

"Your arguments," CJ started to answer, "were quite--"

"Donna."  Josh perked up a bit, and from the chiding tone, CJ guessed he was picking up a conversation Donna had tried to drop.  "Harmonized editorials are a perfectly valid--"

"Josh," Donna hissed.  "You're being an idiot."

"I am not," he argued, ignoring the fact that she was quite obviously trying to keep their argument inaudible.  "I'm merely pointing out--"

"Harmonized editorials," CJ interrupted with a disgusted look, "are exactly what is wrong with modern journalism.  In fact--"

"CJ." Josh waved a dismissive hand in her direction.  "I'm talking to Donna."

The Governor watched the byplay with amusement.  "Don't mind me," she said.  "I'll just be over here framing my answer to the question all by my--"

"Josh, go do a job," Donna insisted, pushing him toward the door.

Stubborn as an ox (and twice as stupid), Josh stopped, leaning against the doorframe.  "I think I should be here for this discussion."

"Fine," Donna answered, throwing up her hands in defeat as she joined Toni on the small couch.  "Just keep your mouth shut about harmonized editorials."

"Perfectly valid," Josh answered, trailing her into the main room.  "Why shouldn't CEOs be able to dictate the editorial pages of their own newspapers?  After all, they forked up the billions of dollars--"

Toni held up a hand.  "You can't be serious."

"He's not," Donna answered, turning an interesting shade of pink.  "He's just being contrary."

Which is when CJ figured it out.  Honestly, some days, she could kill that man.  "Josh!" she yelled.  "Get the hell out of here!"

"What?" Josh attempting to look innocent was one of the more amusing sights CJ had ever seen.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't in the mood for a good laugh.  "You're goading Donna so she'll fight with you, 'cause in your twisted little mind, that's--"  CJ stopped, frowning, unable to come up with a good euphemism.

She needn't have bothered.  Laughing, the Governor suggested, "Foreplay?"

Josh had the good grace to blush.  "No," he answered quickly.  "No, no, no.  I'm just... helping Donna prep for--"

"Please," Toni cringed.  "Don't finish that sentence."

Donna buried her head in her hands.  "What was wrong with grad school?" she mused.  "I liked grad school quite a bit."

CJ patted her shoulder and glared in Josh's general direction.  "Want me to take care of him?"

Josh's eyes got very wide.  "You know what," he said, inching toward the door, "maybe I'll just leave you womenfolk to--"

"Josh," Toni and CJ snapped in unison.

He scooted out the door, and CJ turned her amused gaze to Donna.  "You sure you want to marry that man?"

"Ask me again tomorrow," Donna answered sardonically.  "Governor, I apologize for--"

"No need," Douglas-Radford grinned.  She waved Donna and CJ over to the small sitting area.  "Now I understand you think I may get a certain question today?"

Toni groaned. "Governor--"

"Fine," she sighed.  "They're going to accuse me of going negative, and they're going to ask how I dare do that, considering my previous statements on campaigning, and then they're going to ask if I'm joining Haskell's ticket, to try to tie this to the Democratic frontrunner."  She paused.  "Is that about the size of it?"

CJ pursed her lips.  "Yes."

The Governor nodded, ticking off points on her fingers as she answered them.  "It's hardly negative to point out a questionable association between a vicious, partisan attack and a political opponent who claims not to believe in dirty campaigning.  In fact, this association is something I'm surprised the press didn't--"

"No," Donna interrupted, eyes wide.

"What?" Toni demanded.  "She's right.  The press should have--"

"I know," Donna agreed.  "But they're not going to write a favorable story about a candidate who admonishes them."

Douglas-Radford shrugged.  "They deserve to be admonished."

"Okay," CJ said, because she'd learned over the past few months how best to handle the Governor.  Susan Douglas-Radford was a crack politician; she knew as well as Donna and CJ that it would be a very, very bad idea to admonish the press, but she also had an idealistic side.  Toni, CJ believed, was the Governor's living, breathing monument to Doing What's Right.  And Susan Douglas-Radford needed to at least acknowledge what was right, politics notwithstanding, before she could be convinced to do what was smart.  CJ accepted her role as the one responsible for doing the convincing.  "But you can't be the one to do it."

The Governor gave them all a sour look.  "Fine.  As for the rest -- I've never run a negative campaign, not even during that particularly nasty fight in 1994.  And as for Haskell's pick for a running mate, I can't speculate on a running mate who hasn't been announced--"

"Say chosen," Donna suggested.

Douglas-Radford nodded wearily.  "Right.  'Announced' implies that there's something the press doesn't know, and God forbid there be something the press doesn't know."

"Exactly."  CJ glanced to Donna.  "Any word from Bezdek yet about the leak?"

"Nah," Donna shrugged.  "I doubt there will be.  Haskell's team leaked it too -- Katie's article was only first because they leaked it to a West Coast paper."

Toni tapped one finger impatiently against the polling book.  "When's the announcement?"

Douglas-Radford shrugged.  "Whenever Mark decides, I'd guess."  She turned to stare out the window.  "Rain?" she asked.

"Maybe," Toni nodded.  "This afternoon."

"Hmmm," the Governor answered.  CJ watched her as she watched the clouds float past.  "I'm not good at patience," Douglas-Radford remarked.

"Neither is Josh," Donna muttered, too low for the Governor to hear.

CJ gave her an amused look.  Then she pushed herself away from the chair on which she'd been leaning and waited until she had the Governor's attention.  "You have the slot, Governor," she said quietly.  "Toby, Josh, Sam -- they've done the electoral math.  We've got polling numbers that say ten-point bump for him -- for the Haskell/Douglas-Radford ticket.  We just need to finesse--"

"I know."  The Governor reached for her coffee again.  "I want to start running against Baker and Shallick," she said finally, with a small shrug.

CJ indicated Donna with a tilt of her head.  "We already are, ma'am."

***

Toby kept an eye on the door, expecting Toni.  He was in the small, deserted hotel bar, enjoying his Jack and Coke.  It had been a good day, all things considered.  The Governor masterfully handled the press, the first few stories about the possibility of a Haskell/Douglas-Radford ticket had been mostly favorable, and Josh hadn't been too annoying.  In other words, a good day.  With the possibility of becoming a very good night: Toni was supposed to meet him for a nightcap.

Instead, the first person Toby recognized was Donna striding toward him.  And she was grinning.

"Toby!" she exclaimed, her tone jubilant.

He leaned back a little in his chair.  "Yeah?"

"I got an advance copy of the editorial that's running in tomorrow's Post," she announced, waving several sheets of paper around in the air.

"Okay," Toby said, grabbing them and placing them on the table.  "But I don't think you need to advertise that."

Donna grinned, gesturing at the nearly empty bar.  "To whom?  The bartender?  I don't think she particularly cares."

"I'm guessing from your disgustingly giddy demeanor that--"

"Yes, Toby, it's good."

Toby pulled the faxed copies toward him.  "Who wrote it?"

"The editorial staff," Donna answered, grinning way too much for Toby's tastes.

"Who wrote it?" he repeated, skimming the first lines.  By the time he reached the second paragraph, he didn't need to be told.  "Milton Gourevitch," he said, right along with Donna.  Gourevitch was the Editor in Chief of the Op-Ed page of the Washington Post, and a brutally honest guy.  He cut no slack, but he also didn't take cheap shots.  Toby was almost grinning by the time he got to the end of the piece; Gourevitch listed all the reasons why Susan Douglas-Radford would make an excellent vice-president, citing her experience as a district attorney, a Congresswoman, a governor, and paying special attention to her ground breaking candidacy.  The Post was second only to the Times for national prestige, and the Haskell camp was planning to announce the Governor as his running mate tomorrow afternoon.  The timing couldn't be better.

Toby's grin when he looked up from the paper was nearly as silly as Donna's.  "This is good."

She laughed outright.  "Ya think?  Did you see the part where--"

"'The Governor's strong ethical compass has yet to steer her wrong,'" Toby read.

"Yes!" Donna settled back into her seat.  "This is fabulous."

"What's fabulous?" Toni asked, a hopeful look on her face as she approached the table.  Toby pushed the fax her way as she settled into a seat.  Then he pointedly ignored Donna's curious look, concentrating on taking a long sip of his Jack Daniels.

Toni brightened as she read.  "Wow," she said.  "'In the current, sensationalist climate, her courage in choosing to answer lurid and irrelevant questions about her past is matched only by her eloquence and political skill.  She would be an excellent choice for the Haskell ticket.'"  Toni looked up and met Toby's gaze, her eyes wide.  "Are you serious with this?"

Donna nodded, drawing Toni's attention.  "Yes!  I've got a friend at the Post who sent it--"

"Danny Concanon?" Toby guessed, wondering who the fax was actually meant for: Donna or CJ.  Seemingly reading his mind, Toni raised an eyebrow and gave him an amused look.  He hated when she did that.  He hated that she did it at all -- shouldn't she be jealous of his supposed crush on CJ?  He thought he might be glaring at Toni.

"Toby," Donna said, lowering her voice playfully, "it wouldn't do to divulge my sources."  Then she looked back and forth between the two of them.  "I should probably -- I mean, I'll let you two--"  Flushing, she ducked her head.  "I'm gonna go show this to Josh."

Toby nodded.  "Good idea."

"Okay, then."  Donna pushed herself upright, gathering the pages of the fax.  "Good night."

"Night, Donna," Toni answered, smiling as the younger woman left, still a little flustered.  "Well, that was fun."

"What was fun?" Toby asked, catching the bartender's attention.  "Vodka martini."

Toni touched his arm.  "Thanks.  And I meant Donna's obvious desire to ask what the hell we're doing."

"Ah," Toby answered.  "CJ will ask tomorrow."

Toni grinned at him.  "You don't think she'll have more important things on her mind?"

"Oh, she'll make the time," Toby assured her.  He took another sip.  "That's a good editorial."

"Yes," Toni agreed.  "Will it give us a bump?"

"No, but the announcement will."

"Good."  She paused as the bartender delivered her martini.  "We finalized everything with Bezdek just now."

Toby nodded.  "So you're done for the night?"

Toni raised one eyebrow.  "Yes.  But a very nice man just bought me a drink, so I don't think I'll turn in just yet."

"No," Toby agreed, "not just yet.  But you should probably drink that fast."

Toni smiled at him.  "Why, Toby Ziegler, are you trying to get me drunk?"

"No."  He leaned closer, using that soft voice that never failed to make her shiver.  "I'm trying to get you upstairs."

***

Sam woke sometime after three, gradually coming awake in the very dim light.  He opened his eyes to find Jesse's side of the bed empty.  Which wasn't unusual, to be honest.  Even when he was in San Francisco, Sam often went to bed with Jesse only to wake alone.

"Jesse?" he called softly, as he glanced around the small bedroom.  He'd splurged after Jesse's arrival, getting a suite instead of his usual economy hotel room.  He'd told Jesse it was in celebration -- of the Governor's invitation onto the Haskell ticket, of Jesse's surprise arrival for spring break, of Donna kicking some ass on national TV -- but the truth was, he'd wanted Jesse to have somewhere to wile away the hours if his chronic insomnia kicked in.  Looks like that was a good call, Sam thought, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

He didn't bother with the lights, merely pulled on his boxers and a spare t-shirt.  Shivering just a little in the cool, still air, Sam moved to the door, which stood slightly ajar.  As he'd suspected, the light came from the small lamp in the corner.  Jesse was curled in the chair, bare-chested, chin propped on his hand, a book open across his lap.  He was either engrossed or dozing, Sam couldn't tell which.

Sam padded into the room, nearly silent on bare feet.  "Jesse?" he repeated.

"Huh?"  Jesse's head snapped up, and he winced, rubbing a little at the back of his neck.  "Sorry."

Sam grinned.  "For what?"

Jesse shrugged, his muscles moving smoothly beneath his pale skin.  "Couldn't sleep."  He held up the Governor's book -- writing one was a prerequisite for Presidential candidate these days -- and used his free hand to point at it for emphasis.  "This is pretty good."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, crossing his arms to maintain some semblance of body heat.  The t-shirt was thin, a bit small, and not really doing much to keep him warm.  "And she actually wrote a good part of it."

Jesse nodded slowly, tossing the book onto the small desk.  "Part of it?"

"Hey, it says 'Susan Douglas-Radford with Ramón Jerez Lorca' right there on the cover.  Truth in advertising."

"Unlike Baker," Jesse guessed.

Sam couldn't help but beam at him.  "You're turning into quite the politician, Jess."

Jesse ducked his head.  "I'm a chemistry professor, Sam," he answered softly.  "This isn't my world."

Worried by Jesse's resigned tone of voice, Sam moved toward his lover, rounding the couch to lean against its back, only feet away from Jesse.  "It's not mine either, Jess.  Not really.  This is..."  He shrugged, trying to find a way to express how he felt about the Douglas-Radford campaign.  "Unique."  He frowned, unsatisfied.

Jesse studied him, his expression unreadable.  "You love this, Sam."

"I do," Sam agreed.  "You know why?  Because I believe in Susan Douglas-Radford.  Like I believed in Jed Bartlet.  But you know why it's different this time?"

Jesse didn't move, didn't speak.

Sam pressed on.  "It's different because I grew up.  I didn't know what the hell I was doing back then, Jesse.  I was engaged to a woman, for one.  I was a month away from making partner at a swank Manhattan law firm, for another.  I was making an incredible amount of money, more money than I could possibly need in this lifetime.  All of these things I'm supposed to want, that I was taught to want -- I had all of it, but I was miserable.  I was empty and unhappy and just..."  He stopped, shrugging.  He hated remembering that time, remembering the Indio, remembering all the other amoral things he helped with.  "And then there was Josh, with his idealism and his enthusiasm--"

"And his dimples," Jesse interjected dryly.

Sam ducked his head, his cheeks heated.  "Maybe," he admitted.  "But, Jesse, I don't--"

Jesse held out a hand.  "I'm joking, Sam."

Sam stepped forward, leaning one hip against Jesse's chair and taking his hand.  "You have nothing to worry about, Jess," he said.

Jesse turned dark, intense eyes up to him.  "Not even if she wins?  Not even if she offers you a job?"

"Especially not if she offers me a job," Sam answered.  "Susan Douglas-Radford is a rare breed.  She's an honest politician.  She's smart, well spoken, and a damn good leader.  But I'm not naïve enough to think she's my savior.  I'm not that guy anymore.  I have a job I love."  He glanced down, tracing little patterns on the back of Jesse's hand.  "I have this whole life I love in San Francisco.  This is just..."

"A vacation," Jesse supplied.

Sam laughed a bit.  "Yeah, 'cause I'm spending all my time waterskiing and relaxing on a beach chair."

Jesse shifted in his chair, facing Sam more fully.  "You know what I mean."

"Yeah."  Sam reached over, smoothing down some unruly locks of hair.  "It is kind of like a vacation.  I'm glad I'm here.  I'm glad I could help the Governor.  I'm glad I could work with Toby again, and CJ and Donna.  Even Josh.  But this campaign has also put to rest any lingering doubts I may have had.  This isn't the life for me, Jess.  This isn't what I want."

Jesse held his gaze for a long moment, then pushed himself upright, stretching his slim body as he stood.  Tugging Sam's hand, Jesse pulled him up to stand next to him.  "What do you want?"

Relieved, Sam let go of Jesse's hand and looped an arm around his lover's neck.  "What do you think?" Sam murmured, just before he leaned in for a kiss.

***

Abbey Bartlet straightened the magazine rack in the corner almost compulsively.  She'd always burned off nervous energy by organizing things, which is why the Bartlet house had never been neater than during a certain Congressional investigation not too terribly long ago.  She'd actually washed the windows herself.  Every single one, and the house was by no means small.  Her arms and shoulders had ached for days.

Not that she was upset today, Abbey thought as she restlessly paced the immaculate front room.  She was just jittery with anticipation -- a female vice-president!  Swiping a finger across various surfaces, Abbey looked for a valid excuse to dust or polish.  That wouldn't help her allergies, which were hellacious this time of year, but it would give her something to do with her hands until three o'clock.  Plus, she was a sucker for the scent of pine sol.

Abbey crossed to the window, examining it for streaks, but her attention was caught by her husband.  Clad in jeans and a ridiculous looking blue flannel shirt, Jed was over near the fence, elbows on the top rail and one foot propped up on the bottom, ostensibly watching the cattle.  She had no doubt his mind was anywhere but on the cattle milling around several hundred yards away, their white and black hides the only thing breaking up the sea of green.  Jed loved the farm, even if he had no idea how to run it.  Abbey knew he'd relished the time to catch up on his reading, to take long, wandering walks, and to spend time with her and the girls.

But she also knew that he missed it.  Washington.  Not the infighting and the partisanship and the impossible hours.  Jed missed the possibilities.  He'd always been an idealist at heart; it was one of the things that drew her to him decades ago.  Abbey knew that what drove him every single day he was in office was the possibility that tomorrow, they'd be able to do good things.  Jed Bartlet missed that aspect of the job intensely.

He also missed them.  His loyal staff; his friends; his adopted children.  Leo was in Boston, and he came around often enough, but Jed missed the rest of them:  CJ, Sam, Toby, and the rest.  Abbey watched her husband watch the cattle, wondering if he was having the same thoughts she was.  She was picturing what the gang was doing out there in Detroit.  Which is ridiculous, she told herself.  I know exactly what they're doing.  They're doing what they always do before a big event:

Josh would be bouncing around, jabbering on at a rapid fire pace that only Donna bothered to follow, his eyes aglow with nerves and excitement.  Abbey knew he'd be voicing every possible outcome aloud, especially every permutation of a political failure.  She supposed it was a safety net of sorts for him:  If he said it, it wouldn't happen.  Like bringing an umbrella along to ensure a sunny day.

For her part, Donna would have one eye on Josh, the other monitoring the myriad TV sets and radios for anything that might need follow up.  She'd keep Josh tethered to the ground with well-timed remarks, a talent which was particularly useful in such a charged situation.

CJ would be working the phones, tossing out the occasional wisecrack, and generally keeping the troops motivated.  She wasn't one for pacing; more likely than not, she'd appear to the casual observer to be utterly unfazed by the chaos around her, long legs propped on a desk.  But Abbey knew she'd get a stress headache before ten in the morning, and would spend the rest of the day covertly popping Advil.

Like Josh, Sam would be full of nervous energy, no doubt pestering Toby with suggestions from his mental thesaurus.  He'd have his own copy of the speech, the pages wrinkled and bent from constant flipping as he fretted over each adjective, adverb, and verb.

Toby would be off to the side, one hand occasionally rubbing his head as he concentrated on the speech.  His dark eyes on the page, but missing very little of the action in the room as he coaxed the language until it formed a heart-stopping image of leadership and compassion.

Sometimes Abbey missed it.  True, politics had cost her her medical license, a good deal of her money, and her privacy, but damn if it wasn't exciting to be a part, no matter how peripheral, of a campaign that happens to catch the country's fancy.  The campaign is the fun part; governing, Abbey and Jed had learned the hard way, is much more difficult.

Of course, it might be different for Susan Douglas-Radford.  Maybe she'd gotten her scandals out of the way during the primaries.  Maybe, Abbey mused as she moved the small, crystal hedgehog until it sat just so on the mantle, it would be smooth sailing for Haskell and Douglas-Radford.  Maybe they'd be able to do what her husband hadn't had a chance to finish.

"Dammit," Abbey muttered.  She didn't need to get angry now, to ruin what was going to be a wonderful moment by reliving the Republican hate machine and its actions three years ago.  Abbey took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she flipped on CNN.  There were still a couple minutes, but the talking heads were already discussing the "possibility" that Haskell had chosen Susan Douglas-Radford.  It was absurd; the wires had it early this morning, yet CNN and the networks kept on pretending that "high ranking sources inside the Haskell campaign" hadn't confirmed what Donna or CJ or Haskell's people had leaked.

It was more the lack of anything else to straighten that sent Abbey to the back door to call for Jed.  He turned slowly, only half-listening to her voice.  She leaned out a bit, one hand on the doorknob, the other wrapped tight against her midsection against the chill in the air.  "It's almost time," she told him.

He nodded, pushing away from the fence.  His stride lengthened as he crossed the large backyard.  Abbey recognized his ritual, the mental preparation for a big moment.  Not that it was his moment, not this time, which was a bittersweet realization.  Still, he felt a part of it, somehow, and so did Abbey.

As he reached the door, she stepped back and held it open for him.  Jed paused when he got even with her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss.  "This is going to be great," he told her, his tone betraying none of his sadness.

"You're damn right," Abbey answered, grinning at her husband as she pushed the door closed and followed him into the living room.  They settled side by side on the couch, and Abbey held her hand out expectantly.

"It's already on CNN," Jed protested.

She shrugged, waggled her fingers, and stared at him until he handed her the remote.  "Thank you, dear."

On the screen, Senator Mark Haskell, soon-to-be Democratic nominee for president, stepped up to the podium, Governor Susan Douglas-Radford joining him after a slight pause.  They exchanged smiles as the photographers peppered them with flashbulb explosions.  As the camera zoomed slowly in, Abbey caught sight of Donna, just at the edge of the frame.

Beside her, Jed shifted, just a little.  Abbey smiled, took Jed's hand, and nodded.  "You're right," she said.  "This is going to be great."

THE END

04.26.02