Reading books or papers or magazines on moving vehicles used to leave CJ feeling nauseated.  Being the press secretary for an up and coming presidential campaign, however, she didn't have the luxury of doing nothing for hours as the bus plodded from town to town.  Since giving in to the nausea was not an option, CJ stocked up on over-the-counter Dramamine and ate very little until the day's bus ride came to an end, all so that she could sit in the ugly grey and red seats and skim newspaper reports for anything relevant, amusing, or damaging -- to the Bartlet campaign, or to their opposition.

"I hate Minneapolis," Josh announced.  Donna was asleep beside him, Zoey was reading a glossy magazine, and Sam and Toby were inaccessible, so CJ figured he was probably talking to her.

"Josh, you've never been to Minneapolis."  CJ didn't even look up from her pile of newspapers to address him directly.  She was still catching up from her three-day junket in Southern California.  It had felt bizarre to be there again, this time as a visitor and not a resident.  Although her status as a former Hollywood publicist was why Toby had decided to send her (over, it should be noted, her strong objections that the campaign's press secretary couldn't afford to be away from the campaign for so long), she'd felt oddly detached from her former home.  She'd missed Toby and Sam and Josh -- after all, she couldn't exactly share her sarcastic observations on the absurdities of the L.A. pecking order with the press.  And she'd missed the Governor and Abbey and Donna and Carol and Ginger.  She'd missed the group meals and the sleep deprivation and the occasional, wine-fueled free night.

She hadn't, however, missed traveling by bus.

For one thing, Josh wasn't strapped into his seat on the bus like he was on their rare plane trips.  Instead, he was free to wander, pacing the aisles and generally bothering everyone.  Like now.

Josh sighed noisily, but to little effect, as no one was actually paying him much attention.  "I'm pretty sure I'll hate it."

"That's nice."  CJ snapped the paper open and refolded it with a different section neatly in her view.  Josh, having been born without the neat-paper-folding gene, watched with mild fascination.  Slowly, CJ turned her gaze to him, eyebrows raised in inquiry.  "What?"

"Minneapolis?"

"Go."  CJ pointed towards the front of the bus, where the Governor was waxing philosophical about... well, CJ wasn't entirely sure, but she thought it had something to do with Vikings.  Toby and Sam had made the dread mistake of asking the Governor's opinion on a gerund or a participle they were arguing about, and the Governor had, of course, launched into one of his mind-numbing impromptu dissertations.

Even Zoey had taken to hiding in the back of the bus with the staffers.

Josh's eyes widened.  "But--"

"Go or shut up," CJ amended.

"I'll be quiet," Josh promised, casting a fearful glance towards the Governor.

CJ's cellphone rang, and she frantically dug in her bag.  She knew how hazardous it could be to catch the Governor's attention when he was in one of his moods.  After retrieving the phone from underneath her emergency bottle of Advil, CJ clicked it on and answered.  The shrill noise had awoken Donna, who peered cautiously over the seat in the direction of the Governor.

"Is he looking?" Josh whispered, tilted sideways in a comical attempt to avoid detection.

"Josh, he's twenty feet away; you can speak in your normal voice."

Josh gave Donna a look, which she blithely ignored.  She'd become pretty good at ignoring him over the past few months.

CJ grinned at the two of them as her assistant back in Manchester updated her on the situation in New Hampshire, where the state legislature was considering a bill that had something to do with bedsheets.  If that particular exercise in absurdity got much farther, the Governor would actually have to devote precious campaigning time to forming an opinion on whether a state should legislate the minimum thread count in sheets.  Or something.  To be quite honest, CJ didn't know many of the details of the bill, and she preferred to keep it that way.

"Josh!" the Governor called.  CJ slouched down in her seat, glancing across the aisle at Josh, who groaned and leaned into the aisle.

"Come on up," Governor Bartlet called.  "I was just telling Sam about the Viking boats called knorrs."

CJ and Donna caught gazes, and both women had to fight laughter when Sam's flat voice recited, "The 57 foot keel is made of a single oak timber."

"For flexibility, yes," the Governor agreed happily.  "And the large steerboard they attached to the right hand side of their boats is where we get the term starboard.  CJ, are you hiding back there?"

Josh beamed down at her.  "She's right here, sir."

Childishly, CJ stuck out her tongue before she straightened up, giving the Governor a little finger wave.  "I'm not hiding."

Abbey leaned into the aisle to smile back at CJ.  "Come here, CJ."

Josh and CJ exchanged baleful looks then trudged up the aisle, leaving Zoey to scoot over next to Donna.

Toby dipped his chin at CJ as she approached, his amusement all but hidden by his beard.  "CJ's very interested in boats, sir," he told the Governor.  CJ, who was not even the slightest bit interested in boats, and especially not Viking boats, glared at Toby.

"Excellent," the Governor said.  "Did you know, CJ, that William the Conqueror used ships of a Norse design when he invaded Britain?"

"I did not know that, no, sir," CJ answered, slumping into a seat beside Abbey.  She resigned herself to a long, mind-numbing discussion of Viking boats.

Governor Bartlet nodded, glancing at each of them in turn.  "And what year did William take Britain, Josh?"

Abbey rolled her eyes and mumbled "1066" under her breath in the manner of one who had already been subjected to the round of questions.

Josh, who was too far away to hear, floundered for a bit before CJ spoke up, "1066."

Abbey gave CJ a devilish look then patted her husband's leg.  "Honey, why don't you tell Josh about the monasteries?"

With an audible groan, Josh slumped into the seat beside Toby.  "Monasteries?" he echoed dully.

"Yes," the Governor answered cheerfully.  He loved nothing more than to prattle on at excessive length at whatever whimsical subject caught his fancy.  "There were vast treasures collected in the monasteries throughout Western Europe, so the Vikings often targeted churches."

"Hmmm," Josh managed.

"CJ," Abbey said softly, drawing her into a private conversation.  "Has Carol been monitoring the situation in New Hampshire?"

CJ blinked.  "Which... situation?"

"The trade bill."

CJ searched her memory, but couldn't come up with a match.  "Ma'am?"

Abbey looked somewhat surprised and more than a little annoyed.  "The bill that would outlaw garments and linens produced in sweatshops?" she prompted.

"The thread count thing?" CJ asked.

Grimacing, Abbey nodded.  "You can blame that misconception on the Lawrence Eagle-Tribune.  Why they bother to cover New Hampshire politics if they're going to do such a half-assed job is beyond me."

CJ had no answer, so she nodded mutely.

"Yes, the thread count thing," Abbey confirmed.  "Though that is only one provision in a much larger bill aimed at allowing New Hampshire residents the opportunity to stand up to companies that exploit workers in sweatshops."

CJ raised an eyebrow.  "I guess I don't have to work on a statement for this."

"No," Abbey allowed.

"So what's the problem with the bill?"

"The Constitution," Abbey answered brightly.

CJ groaned.  "The U.S. Constitution?  Please tell me how--"

Toby appeared quite suddenly in the conversation, leaning over the back of his seat to comment.  "A similar bill passed in Massachusetts and was struck down because the federal courts decided that it was, in effect, the interruption of international treaties by a single state, and the federal government's trade treaties take precedence over a state law."

CJ chewed on that for a moment.  "That sucks."

"Yes," Abbey agreed.  "Very much so."

"If the citizens of a state want to make a stand and say, hey, we don't want your sweatshops operating in our name, they should be able to do so."

"You're right," Toby nodded.  "Except for that pesky little Supremacy Clause in the Constitution."

"Toby--"

"CJ, let's not get sidetracked by the bill when it's the politics that's the problem," he interrupted.

Josh popped up beside Toby, attracted, CJ figured, by the notion of paying more attention to politics than to actual laws.  He really, really enjoyed the gamesmanship.  "Which bill?"

"The New Hampshire Fair Trade Bill," Abbey supplied.

Across the aisle, the Governor nodded sagely.  "Yes.  Explain to me again why I can't sign the bill?"

Sam leaned into the aisle so that he could see most of the conversation's participants and shrugged, nearly toppling over in the process.  "It's unconstitutional," he said, gripping the back of his seat.

"You see," the Governor answered conversationally, "I really don't believe that it is."

"While I would tend to agree with you," Josh said, "the federal courts don't, and they're the ones who get to make the call."

"That hardly seems fair," Governor Bartlet answered lightly.

CJ nodded slowly.  "So the problem is not really the unconstitutionality of the bill so much as the tension between the Governor's role as, well, Governor and his presidential aspirations," she reasoned.

"Precisely." Toby nodded.  "Which role is more important now, in September of an election year?"

CJ pursed her lips as she mulled over the problem.  "I really don't know," she answered finally.  "I would tend to say that appearing presidential is more important, but this campaign is so..."

"Odd?" Toby supplied.

Abbey rolled her eyes at him, and CJ snorted, "No.  I was going to say unique.  People have rallied to support you precisely because you place principles above politics.  I honestly don't know which role is more important right now."

Jed Bartlet nodded.  "Well, good thing no one's paying attention yet."

***

CJ settled into her hotel room quickly, her routine so smooth and familiar that she barely remembered discrete details of unpacking.  Still, her small, hard plastic makeup case sat in its customary spot to the left of the sink, her suits hung neatly in the closet, and a fresh stack of newspapers was prioritized and waiting by the side of the bed.

Governor Bartlet had a meet-and-greet with some of the leaders of Minnesota's Democratic Party, which was quite a quirky organization, considering the state's odd blend of populism and conservatism.  The Bartlet campaign was betting that his strong populist credentials would woo some Minnesotans to cross party lines.  Of course, tonight that was Jed Bartlet's problem; CJ and the gang had the evening blissfully free.

Sure, it was already after eight, she'd spent the entire day on a bus, and she had more than a dozen papers to slog through, but at least she was alone.  Eleven hours on a bus and she was over her short-lived feelings of wistfulness for the campaign trail, and so she would savor tonight.  No grumbling Toby.  No grinning Sam.  No smirking Josh, no smiling Donna, no rambling Governor Bartlet.  Just peace and quiet.

CJ unearthed her travel-sized bottle of bubble bath and perused the room service menu for a decent bottle of white wine.  She could have gone out somewhere to grab dinner, but this way, she could soak in the bath until her food arrived, then read the papers in bed.  Before she could call in her order, however, her cellphone rang.  With a small groan, CJ placed the bubblebath atop her stack of newspapers and answered the phone.

"CJ," someone whispered.

Frowning, she demanded, "Who is this?"

"It's Josh," he answered, still almost inaudible.  "You have to come here."

CJ rubbed her forehead and gazed longingly at the bubblebath.  "Josh--"

"C'mon, CJ.  Trust me."

Warning bells clanged in CJ's head.  Or maybe that was just the instant headache brought on by the sound of Josh Lyman imploring her to trust him.  "Where are you?"

"Donna's bathtub."

CJ blinked.  "Where's Donna?"  Her voice, as it turned out, sounded very high and somewhat strangled.

"Right here," he answered.

"What?" she shrieked.

"CJ!" Josh yelped.  "No.  It's not -- She's not -- We're listening to Sam."

Staring somewhat vacantly at the pastel Monet ripoff on her wall, CJ frowned.  "I'm not sure if that's better or worse than what I was thinking.  Listening to Sam do what, exactly?"

"Geez, CJ," Josh answered, sounding entirely too amused for her tastes.  "Toby never mentioned your incredibly dirty mind when he--"

"Josh."

"Sam's singing in his shower," Josh explained, dropping his voice so low that it took CJ a few moments to put the words together.

"Singing?"

"Yes."

"Singing what?"

"Oh, this is the best part," Josh snickered.  "Journey."

"Journey," CJ repeated, incredulous.

"Open Arms, no less."

"Let me get this straight: Sam Seaborn is belting out eighties power ballads in his shower?"

"Exactly."

It was frightening, CJ thought as she eased herself onto the counter in Donna's bathroom, how thin the walls were in their hotel.  Donna and Josh were actually standing inside the tub, shoes off in deference to the ceramic, with their ears pressed against the walls.  CJ wasn't sure why, since she could hear each wavering note out of Sam's mouth with utter clarity.  The hotel was a small, family-owned establishment in St. Paul, and either the wall was incredibly flimsy, or Sam had quite a set of pipes.  Either way, CJ, Josh, and Donna huddled in the small, tiled bathroom and smothered their laughter as Sam ran through some classics -- like Jack Wagner's All I Need, and what Josh assured CJ was supposed to be Motley Crue's Home Sweet Home.  Sam ended with a rousing rendition of Night Ranger's Sister Christian.

And then, just as Sam's shower switched off and the three eavesdroppers clapped their hands to their mouths in a somewhat useless attempt to stifle their laughter (after all, if they could hear him, he would certainly be able to hear them) CJ's cellphone rang.  Its tones echoed loudly off the tiles.

CJ bolted, her heels clattering on the floor as she fled, leaving Josh and Donna standing side by side in the bathtub.  They were a matched set -- eyes comically wide and their hands clamped over their mouths.

"CJ Cregg," she whispered urgently as she reached the hotel hallway.

"Why are you whispering?" Toby demanded.

CJ cleared her throat, striding quickly down the hall away from Sam's room.  "Uh... no reason."

"You need some work on your evasive maneuvering," Toby remarked, continuing over her protests.  "The Governor's back and all fired up."

"Great," CJ grumbled.  "And you're calling me why?"

"Why do you think?"

CJ stopped outside her hotel room, thinking longingly of her postponed bubblebath.  "Where are you?" she sighed.

***

"Sir," CJ tried again, "I'm not suggesting--"

"How someone who served in the United States House of Representatives can be described as 'provincial' is a mystery to me."

"Well, you do own a dairy farm," Leo commented.  He was, in CJ's opinion, entirely too amused by the situation.  She suspected he'd joined the impromptu meeting solely to poke fun at his old friend.  At any rate, his only contributions to the conversation thus far had been sarcastic barbs tossed Jed Bartlet's way.  Which wasn't, CJ thought with some irritation, helping matters much.

"I went to Notre Dame and the London School of Economics," the Governor countered.

"I'm not saying that you are provincial," CJ protested. She was somewhat surprised to realize that she'd ended up quite literally on the edge of her seat during the course of the debate with the Governor. Abbey had grown frustrated at the rhetorical circles and retreated to another part of the suite; no doubt, CJ thought enviously, to take a bubblebath. She really, really wanted to be in her own suite, by herself, instead of arguing PR with the Governor, but since arguing PR with the Governor was kind of her job, she dug back in, "Or even that the charge will necessarily stick. But the Republicans--"

"Are a pain in the ass," the Governor groused.

Toby nodded, and CJ could tell by the set of his mouth that he was amused.  "Yes, sir," Toby agreed.  "But roughly half of the electorate, for reasons passing understanding, actually believes what the Republican Party says, and will vote accordingly in November."

The Governor leaned back in his chair.  He'd been sitting in what looked like a pretty uncomfortable wingback chair since CJ's arrival, elbows on armrests and hands folded together.  "If that's true, then why should I care what the Republicans are going to think about the Trade bill?  If they don't use that, they'll use something else, and their constituents will still vote for the other guy."

"We need the independents," Leo answered seriously.

"Exactly," CJ agreed.  "And with only two candidates in the race--"

"There are seven candidates in the race," Bartlet corrected.

"Four of whom are vanity candidates running on fringe platforms, and one of whom is a moderately popular third party candidate who will ultimately win maybe three percent of the vote," Leo countered.

Finally, CJ thought, a useful comment from Leo.  She shot him a thankful look and took up the thread.  "There are two major candidates, Governor," CJ continued, "and the press will fall back into the compare/contrast game and write stories outlining how you're opposites."

"We're not opposites," Governor Bartlet shot back, annoyed.

From his position near the window, Toby shrugged one shoulder.  "It's an easier story to write.  He's a U.S. Senator, you're a Governor."

"And former U.S. Representative," the Governor interjected sourly.

"Yes," Toby allowed, moving closer, "but the Senate deals more directly with foreign affairs -- or at least that's what the good Senator will say."

"Oh, bah."  Governor Bartlet pushed himself upright and headed for the small minibar against the wall.  "That may have been the original intent of our Founders," he argued, "but our Senators are no longer the learned elite selected by state legislatures, more properly suited to deal with foreign affairs than their popularly-elected House counterparts.  Both houses are popularly elected, both have a hand in domestic affairs, and both are involved in foreign relations."

Frustrated, CJ gave Toby a look before answering.  "You can explain all of that to the press, Governor, but they're not going to write about it.  You know why?  Because very few people out there understand the historical context of Congress.  They understand a U.S. Senator versus the Governor of a small, New England state!"

The Governor turned, his mouth set in an angry line.  "They should understand the context," he roared.  "Context is everything in a presidential campaign.  Context tells the voters whether the candidate means what he says, whether he's done what he's promised, whether he has the experience for the job.  The voters should understand the context.  I have national experience and I have experience as the head of an executive branch.  How's that for qualified?"

Toby flashed a sympathetic look CJ's way then said, "Sir, that may be, but your résumé isn't what concerns me."

"What is?"

Toby shifted a little, rubbed at his forehead, and then shrugged.  "Can you afford to sign a bill that you know will be declared unconstitutional while running for an office that requires you to uphold the Constitution?"

Leo sat back, watching them all curiously.  No doubt he had his own opinion, but CJ figured he wanted to hear what the rest of them thought before weighing in.  CJ waved her fingers in the air to capture their attention.  "On the other hand, can the Governor afford to retreat from something he strongly supported a year ago?"

"I support it strongly now," the Governor insisted.

"Yes, sir," CJ nodded.  "But now you're running for president."

The Governor took a sip of his drink.  "I'm not going to make a decision tonight," he answered finally.  "Well see how things look tomorrow."

***

Tomorrow came far, far too soon for CJ's tastes, and things didn't look that great, either.

She'd arrived back in her suite long past midnight, and there had been no bubblebath for her.  She didn't figure the campaign really needed its press secretary to drift off and drown in her bathtub, surrounded by waterlogged copies of obscure dailies.  Instead, she had hunkered down in the hard, wooden chair at the very small desk and read all of the newspapers awaiting her attention.  Well, maybe not read.  Speed-read.  Or possibly skimmed.

Even skimming the papers, she hadn't turned out her light until almost three, and her alarm was set for 7:30.

Not that it was her alarm that woke her.  No, no, CJ was eased into the day by Toby's dulcet tones bellowing her name from the hallway.

She nearly fell getting out of bed, stumbled to the door, wrenched it open and glared at him.  "What?"

Eyes widening, Toby trailed his gaze down her t-shirt-clad body. "Uh, CJ?"

"What?" she repeated, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.  Which, considering where his gaze landed, may not have been the wisest course of action.

"Did you want to, uh, put some clothes on?" Toby suggested, finally meeting her eyes again.

She shook her head stubbornly.  "I want to sleep.  You're interrupting the last--"  She glanced around.  "What the hell time is it right now?"

"Ten past seven."

CJ moaned, rubbing her face.  "Goddamnit, Toby.  Do you know how much I hate waking up before my alarm?"

"Yes."

"So you chose to wake me up during the last, sweetest minutes of what little sleep I managed to get?" she demanded, retreating into the room and leaving the door open in tacit invitation.

Toby took a few steps and closed the door, watching her with an expression of mild amusement.  "To be fair, I didn't know what time you set your alarm for--"

"What time do I always get up?" CJ asked, raising her voice over the sound of running water.  She squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush and turned around to glare at him while she brushed.

"Seven-thirty," Toby answered impatiently.  "Are you at all interested in why I'm here?"

CJ twirled her free hand around in a "come on" gesture and said, "Weww, why awww ooo eeerre?"

Wincing, Toby raised one hand and waved a newspaper in her direction.  "The Governor's meeting last night?  Front page.  With art."  Shrugging, CJ tried to speak around her toothbrush, but Toby pointed at the bathroom.  "Spit."

Tossing him a sour look, she complied, taking her sweet time rinsing her mouth, even though she was incredibly curious to see what he was so worked up about.  The Governor had only been gone four hours; what mischief could he possibly have--

"Oh, God," she muttered as she grabbed the paper from Toby's hand.  The picture was of the Governor, suit jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up, brandishing a giant sword.  With large, moderately dopey grin on his face.  CJ studied it for a moment.  "What the hell is that?" she demanded, poking the paper so hard it buckled in her hand and drooped down like a wet rag.  She snapped it back to attention.

Toby tilted his head to see the image upright and tapped the caption gently.  "That is a 7th century Viking sword."

Nodding, CJ said, "Okay.  And the Governor is holding it because...?"

"Someone handed it to him," Toby offered drolly.

"You're a regular comedian," CJ grumbled.  "Who has it?"

"It'll probably be on CNN within the hour."

"The Trade Bill wasn't bad enough, now we have to contend with bad Viking jokes from the Republicans?" CJ moaned, dropping onto the edge of her bed.  She was tempted to crawl back under the covers and let the chips fall where they may.  Or let the swords fall.  Whatever.

Toby sat down beside her.  "It'll be a nice break from the hat joke."

From the next room, the unmistakable sound of NPR blared abruptly through their walls, accompanied by a muffled groan.  CJ tilted her head in the direction of Morning Edition.  "Whose room?"

"Josh's, I think."

CJ started to grin, a very bad idea coming to her fully formed.  "Hey, Toby, remember when Josh did a find-replace on that draft so every instance of America was replaced with The United States of Lymanmerica?"

Recognizing her mischievous tone, he gave her a wary look and started to shake his head.  "No."

"You don't even know what I'm going to suggest yet," CJ protested, laughing.

"Your revenge schemes are always bad ideas," he pointed out quite reasonably, considering her history.

"True," she admitted, nodding slowly.  "But they're usually damn funny."

***

"You faked an orgasm?" Donna shrieked.  She was standing in the hallway, expecting CJ to join her for a trip to Starbucks.  Instead, the entire sordid story had tumbled out of CJ's mouth the moment she opened the door, and Donna had echoed the climax, as it were, loud enough for the entire floor to hear.

CJ yanked her inside the hotel room.  "Would you please keep your voice down?"  She wasn't entirely sure why she was whispering, considering Donna's shout, but she decided that was the least of her worries and retreated to the bureau, fumbling for her room key.

Mouth agape, Donna nodded.

CJ smoothed her hair with one hand, gently pressing the unruly locks into place.  "And... yes, we faked an orgasm."

"We?" Donna squealed.

"Toby stopped by with--"

"You and Toby faked an orgasm?" Donna repeated numbly, her blue eyes quite large.

"Well, I did most of the work," CJ grumbled, ignoring the strangled noises Donna was making.  "He mostly just sat there and made sarcastic remarks about believability and verisimilitude."

Blushing, Donna pressed a hand to her cheek and murmured, "I can never be in the same room with the two of you again."

"No, no, no," CJ said, pressing Donna down into the small, moderately comfortable armchair.  "I haven't gotten to the embarrassing part yet."  Then she stopped.  Because, really, it was humiliating, and as much as she wanted Donna's help, she was loath to explain the situation.

"You really have," Donna answered acerbically, the hint of a smile on her lips.

"Oh, if only it were so," CJ muttered.  She paced in a little circle, then sighed and turned to meet Donna's curious gaze.  "Do you remember in Boise when Josh--"

"The thing with the hotel pool?" Donna guessed, nodding vigorously.

"Right.  The bathing cap incident."

"Oh, no," Donna moaned, already guessing where CJ was going.  "Revenge?"

"Exactly," CJ nodded.  "And Toby owes me some favors--"  CJ glared in response to Donna's suggestive look.  "Not that kind of favor."

"Damn," Donna muttered, still blushing a little.  "That would almost be worth hearing this story."

"Do you want to help me out here, or not?" CJ demanded.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"I'll rephrase -- As an accomplice to the bathing cap incident, are you going to help me out here?"

"I was an unwilling accomplice," Donna protested.  "I didn't know why he wanted it."

CJ fixed Donna with her best intimidating glare, honed to perfection on the affectionately dubbed Idiot Boys.  "You really thought Josh Lyman was going for a dip in the hotel pool and had some sudden burning desire for a bathing cap?"

"Okay, fair point," Donna conceded.  "So after you… you know--"

CJ paced in front of Donna, her hands gesturing broadly as she explained.  "I just figured we'd... you know, and because the walls are so thin, Josh would be sure to hear it, and then he'd be all strange and jumpy around us all day--"

"If you just wanted him strange and jumpy, you could've gotten him a red-eye from Starbucks!"

"In hindsight, that might've been a better course of action," CJ admitted crankily.  Perhaps she should've enlisted Donna's help before setting her plan into motion.  "Speaking of Starbucks--"

"Not until you finish the story," Donna commanded.

With an annoyed look, CJ said, "Fine.  So we did the thing, and I know Josh heard, because I swear there was whimpering from in there, and then Toby left to meet up with Sam about the Viking picture -- Have you seen the Viking picture?"

The edge of Donna's mouth lifted in amusement.  "No, but I've heard tell."

"It's definitely gonna be a thing. I can already imagine Leno's jokes--"

"CJ?" Donna interrupted.  "The story?"

"Right. I was supposed to meet up with Toby and Sam after I showered, only when I left my room, Leo was just coming out of his room." CJ stopped.

Donna leaned forward in anticipation.  "And?"

"That," CJ said miserably, pointing at the wall behind Donna, "is Leo's room."

Donna's jaw dropped.  "Oh, my God."

"Yes."

"So when you and Toby--"

"Yes."

"Leo thinks--"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

CJ nodded emphatically.  "I'm sure.  He dropped his card key when he saw me, mumbled something, and practically ran down the hallway."

Donna stared up at CJ for a moment then collapsed into laughter.

"Donna!  You're not helping!"  CJ crossed her arms and glared down at the younger woman, who was shaking her head, unable to speak.

CJ pursed her lips and turned away, her movements deliberate as she gathered up her folio, slipped on her jacket, and headed for the door.

"Wait!" Donna managed, her face flushed with amusement.  "Where are you going?"

"I can't possibly figure out how to fix this without coffee."

"Wise words," Donna acknowledged, swiping her thumbs under her eyes to wipe away the mirthful tears without smudging her eyeliner.  "All we need to figure this one out is a double latté."

"Somehow I doubt that," CJ muttered as she followed Donna from the room.

***

Duly caffeinated but still lacking a coherent plan, CJ edged her way onto the bus, sunglasses firmly in place.  Donna had disappeared to round up Josh, who was running late as usual, but everyone else had already assembled.  The Governor was holding court in the second row, regaling Toby, Zoey, and Abbey with tales of Tancred, the Norman who led the first Crusade and captured Jerusalem.  Leo and Sam were a couple rows back, heads down to avoid being inundated with Viking information.

CJ paused.  There was no way to sneak past the Governor, considering that he was blocking the aisle.  He caught sight of her and grinned.  "CJ!" he greeted loudly.

"Good morning, sir," she answered.

"Did you know that the word Minnesota is really two Dakota words that mean clear water?"

CJ blinked.  "Did you know that Minnesota joined the Union on May 11, 1858, and is known as the Gopher state?"

He raised his eyebrows at her.  "Minnesota is also the 12th largest state, they have one of the lowest unemployment rates and one of the highest high school graduation rates in the country, nearly half the state's budget goes to school districts and institutions of higher education, and," he finished with a satisfied look, "the walleye is the official state fish."

CJ admitted defeat.  What made her think she could out-trivia the King of Trivia?  She would really hate to play Trivial Pursuit with the Governor.  "They have a state fish?" she asked belatedly.

The Governor grinned at her.  "Yes, they do.  But we're not going to one of the ten thousand lakes today, CJ.  And sadly we're not going to make it to the festival for Defeat of Jesse James Day -- I think it's in Northfield, wherever that is.  Instead, we're going to see the Jeffers Petroglyphs."

"Right," CJ nodded.  "Rock drawings.  Sir, I think we're going to need a response to possible comments on the picture from last night of--"

"Oh!" he nodded eagerly, mimicking his pose in the ridiculous photograph.  "The sword."

"Yes," Toby answered, appearing beside her.  "Are you concealing the aftereffects of your wild night?" he asked, gesturing at her sunglasses.

"No," she snapped.  CJ's gaze slid to Leo, who was suddenly very interested in his New York Times.  CJ slipped her sunglasses off and edged away from Toby, who gave her a strange look.

"The sword," Toby continued.  "Would you mind explaining how exactly you came to be holding the sword?"

"Viking sword," the Governor corrected, grinning.  "Which, in accordance with Norse tradition, consisted of a long, flat blade made of hard steel and a hilt decorated with ornamental designs.  They typically carried their swords in scabbards slung from their belts.  And did you know that Vikings sometimes killed their weapons and sacrificed them to Odin?"

CJ stared at him, mute.  Sometimes, there was really nothing to say.  The Governor's ability to wax poetic about any subject under the sun was downright dumbfounding.

"Killed their weapons?" Sam asked curiously, leaning out into the aisle from a few rows back.  CJ glared at him.  Because, really, the first rule of dealing with Jed Bartlet in one of his loquacious moods was Don't Ask Questions.

"Yes," the Governor answered, no doubt eager to enlighten them all about the entire history of the Vikings.  "They killed swords by bending the blades, and then the Vikings tossed them into bogs as a sacrifice to their god, Odin."

Zoey glanced back at Sam.  "They also sacrificed humans and animals."

"Well, that's cheerful," Toby commented sarcastically.  "Still, if you could just explain why you were holding the sword--"

"The lieutenant governor handed it to me," the Governor answered.

CJ shot Toby a smug look.  He pointedly ignored her and said, "Okay.  Why was the lieutenant governor of Minnesota holding a 7th century Viking sword at a 20th century Democratic fundraiser?"

"Even though it was disproved," Sam recited in a monotone, "Minnesotans still cling to the erroneous idea that Vikings made it to Minnesota some time in the 1300s."  CJ raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged.  "I had breakfast with the Governor."

"Dare I ask why Minnesotans think Vikings made it here?"

"Please don't," Toby muttered, rubbing absently at his beard.

The Governor made a face.  "I heard that, there, Skipper."

Sam bit his lip to contain his amusement.

"In 1898," Governor Bartlet started, warming to the subject.

"A farmer," Abbey interrupted, "enamored of the idea of Vikings, carved a fake runestone and claimed to have found it on his land."

Her husband looked somewhat disgruntled.  "That's what I was about to say."

Abbey gave him a skeptical look.  "In lecture format.  You were going to quote the inscription, weren't you?"

"Well, the length of the inscription--"

"Jed." She patted his knee.  "Please."

"Fine," he grumbled.  "Far be it from me to broaden the knowledge of my staff--"

"Sir?" Toby interrupted.  "The picture?"

"What about the picture?" the Governor demanded, exasperated.

Displaying his typical horrible timing, Josh clambered onto the bus and stopped short, flushing a little as he looked at CJ and Toby.  Donna, who was just behind him, crashed right into his back and shot him an annoyed look.  With his usual chivalry, Josh ignored his assistant and purposefully turned his attention to the Governor.  "Sir, the right wing pundits are suggesting that you deliberately posed with the sword to counteract the perception that you're--"

Josh stopped short, shooting a pleading look at Leo, who refolded his paper neatly and placed it on the seat beside him.

The Governor crossed his arms.  "That I'm what?"

Sighing, Leo stood and moved next to his old friend.  "An elite New England academic and... less masculine than the Senator."

Looking slightly ill, Josh confirmed Leo's summary with a nod.  Behind him, Donna ducked her head.  Toby moved towards Sam, no doubt already choosing the precise combination of words to skewer all comers.

CJ dropped into a seat as the bus rumbled to life.  "I think I hate this state."

***

"I love this state," Jed Bartlet enthused, standing in the midst of the Jeffers Petroglyphs.  The lichen-encrusted sheet of quartzite had strange ripples which, the Governor had informed them, were leftovers from when the area was actually beach.  The walkway wound a quarter of a mile through the rocks which bore thousands of pre-historic carvings depicting animals, humans, weapons, and various unidentifiable shapes that Josh kept suggesting were aliens.

CJ crossed her arms, chilly in her light sweater.  She hadn't expected the cool plains breeze, though she probably should have, considering they were practically in Canada.  The area was certainly beautiful, but she'd much prefer being back in the lovely bed and breakfast in St. Paul -- thin walls and all -- instead of out here, not courting votes so much as sightseeing.  September, she thought sourly, was a politically expensive time to go sightseeing for a day.

She turned to Toby, who was also standing on the edges of the small group, disapproval radiating from his frame.  He held up a hand in warning.  "Don't complain to me," he muttered.  "I explained the problem to Josh in simple sentences.  I told him that the Governor couldn't afford to spend half a day playing Joe Farmer."

"Joe Farmer?" CJ smirked.

"You know what I mean."

"He actually owns a farm."

"CJ."

"Well, he does."

"The Governor owns a dairy farm, and he doesn't know any more about milking cows than I do."

"True." She paused, glancing around.  "Of course, this isn't a farm--"

"CJ!"

"I'm just saying."  CJ glanced over at Josh, who was chatting up a cute print reporter, and rolled her eyes.  "It probably wasn't Josh's call.  Still, there are, like, twenty people here," CJ pointed out, gesturing disgustedly at the paltry crowd surrounding the Governor as he wandered the rocky plains, examining the petroglyphs and, no doubt, delivering some impromptu lectures about their probable origins.  "Twenty votes are not going to win us this state."

"Believe me, I made that argument," Toby answered, hands on his hips.  He really had quite an impressive glower, that man.  "There are some reporters here," he allowed.  "Though how two columns buried on page four of the Minneapolis Whatever and a thirty-second clip on St. Paul's FOX affiliate are going to help the Governor raise his profile in this state, I'm sure I don't know."

"Still." CJ jabbed a finger at the day's entry in her planner.  "We're spending, what, five hours here so that the Governor--"

"Yes."

"Instead of campaigning in the Twin Cities, where about half of the population of Minnesota--"

"Right." Toby shifted impatiently.  "Again, I point out that, for reasons passing understanding, I had no say in--"

"You couldn't make Josh listen to you?" CJ demanded.

"Josh," Toby began, "is ill-acquainted with logic.  Josh thinks that this will somehow help the Governor."

"Pictures of him lecturing about some petroglyphs in northern Minnesota are going to counteract his image as a--"

"CJ, Toby," said Leo, arriving rather suddenly beside them.

CJ spun around, nearly losing her balance when her heel caught in a crevice.  Used to her tendency to fall over, Toby steadied her with a hand on her arm. CJ flushed and pulled away from him, trying to avoid looking at Leo.  Which was quite easy, considering that his gaze kept shifting, never looking directly at either of them for more than a few seconds at a time.  CJ glanced around the depressingly flat plains and cursed the absence of nice, large rocks to hide behind.

"Leo," Toby said, still favoring CJ with an odd look.  "We need to cut this field trip short so we can get back to the city.  CJ and I could be putting this time to far better use."

Leo gave Toby an incredulous look.  "Now see here--"

"Leo," CJ interrupted, trying desperately for a way to head off what she was sure was going to be an unbearable conversation.  She pointed at a carving of what looked like a buffalo or a deer and said, "Look.  Josh thinks that's an alien."

"Sometimes," Toby murmured, arms crossed, "I think Josh is an alien."  He watched CJ suspiciously, head tilted back in that way of his that said, "I know you've done something stupid, but I've not yet discerned exactly what."

Leo didn't even bother to look at the rock CJ had indicated.  Instead, he took a deep breath and plunged right in.  "I wanted to have a word with the two of you regarding..."  He frowned, seemingly unable to come up with a delicate euphemism.

Toby's eyes narrowed and he glanced at CJ, who attempted to look innocent despite her burning cheeks.  "Regarding what?" he asked, keeping his gaze on CJ.

Eyes wide, CJ shook her head vehemently until Leo glanced at her.  She froze, but it didn't matter, because Leo made a strange noise and looked fixedly at the horizon.

"Oh, God," Toby grumbled.  She winced at the horrified look on his face.  "This is your fault, CJ.  We wouldn't have to explain ourselves to Leo if you'd been able to control yourself."

"Toby," Leo snapped with a disapproving glare.

CJ was torn between humiliation and humor.  Now that Toby had figured out the reason for Leo's disapproval, he was inadvertently making it worse.

Toby was shaking his head, "No, Leo, you don't understand.  We--"

"You're right," Leo winced, one hand up to stay any explanations.  "Nor do I want to understand.  What you two do on your own time is--"

"It's really not what you think," CJ tried.  "Toby and I just--"

"CJ," Leo yelped.

"No, but there's a good reason.  We can explain--"

"I don't need reasons and I certainly don't need details."  He shifted his weight and muttered almost to himself, "I really thought I'd be having this conversation with somebody else."

Toby mumbled something unintelligible, one hand rubbing the side of his face.  CJ sympathized.  In fact, she was considering hiding behind Toby.  Not that he was tall enough, really, but she could duck down to avoid that look on Leo's face.  Of course, she thought, such an odd sight would no doubt catch Josh's attention, and if there was one person who she never wanted to learn about this lecture from Leo, it was Josh Lyman.

Leo waved his hand around in the air.  "Do whatever you'd like on your own time," he repeated.  "But when you're on the campaign trail, you're representing the Governor, and--"

"I beg you to stop," Toby said.  "Regardless of what you may have--" Toby paused, blinked, and then gave a little sigh-- "heard, there's--"

"Toby!" Leo interrupted, looking pained.  "Please."

"It was a joke, Leo," CJ said in a rush, her voice strangely high-pitched.

Leo frowned.  "Excuse me?"

"Nothing..."  She made a strange gesture in between herself and Toby, "happened."  She saw the clouds gathering in Leo's expression, and the rest of the story came tumbling out.  "We were just trying to get back at Josh for the bathing cap incident and the United States of Lymanmerica thing, and we had the silly idea--"

"Bathing cap incident?" Leo echoed faintly, staring at CJ with a strangely blank expression.  "Lymanmerica?"

"Yes," CJ nodded eagerly.  "This is really all Josh's fault.  See, he--"

"No," Toby interrupted, pointing at CJ.  "As much as I enjoy blaming all things possible on Josh, you had the silly idea, and you were the one who--"  He broke off with a glance in Leo's direction.  "Uh... who carried it out."

CJ was convinced that her cheeks were actually ablaze as Leo absorbed that information and turned to look at her.  "Well," he said, sounding somewhat strangled.  "Okay, then."

"Leo, I'm really sorry--"

"Please," he said, shaking his head as he started to back away.  "Let's never speak of this again."

"Absolutely," CJ agreed with feeling.

Leo ambled away, heading out towards the Governor, who was still gazing, enraptured, at the ground.  CJ brushed a piece of hair out of her face impatiently.  She was a little afraid to look at Toby, who no doubt was planning either her death or an elaborate payback scheme.  Unless she could distract him with politics.  "So," she said brightly, "I think--"

"Thank you, CJ," Toby interrupted.  "I was really starting to miss being the object of Leo's disgusted glare.  Good of you to--"

"Oh, bite me," she said tiredly.

"While the invitation is tempting, Claudia Jean, isn't that what got us into this mess in the first place?"

She turned a skeptical eyebrow in his direction.  "As I recall, there was very little biting involved."  She was gratified when his mouth dropped open momentarily.  Score one for CJ Cregg, she thought.

Toby recovered quickly.  "I think that, as penance for your bad idea, you should be the one to explain to Josh," Toby decided.

"Explain?" CJ scoffed.  "I'm going to gloat.  First, I'm going to make him squirm with some well-chosen remarks, many of which, by the way, will be stolen verbatim from you today."

"What does that mean?"

"'CJ and I have more important things that we could be doing right now?'" CJ repeated, trying her best to imitate Toby's inflections.  From his sour look, she suspected she'd been unsuccessful.

"You could've mentioned, you know," Toby pointed out.

"Mentioned what?"

"That Leo overheard your, you know, performance this morning."

"When was I supposed to--"

"We were on the bus for hours, CJ."

"True," she said.  "But there were too many damn people around."  She glanced at her surroundings and sighed.  "Is this day over yet?"

Toby squinted up at the sun.  "It's nearly two."

"What, you can tell time by the sun now?  I thought you hated the outdoors."

"I do.  I looked at my watch before that humiliating incident--"

"It was not humiliating," CJ protested.  "I thought it went rather well, all things considered."

"It was humiliating," Toby insisted.

"No," CJ decided, taking his arm to pull him back towards the group, "humiliating is singing bad eighties power ballads in the shower."

Toby gave her a perplexed look.  "What?"

"Ah," CJ said, grinning.  "Do I have a story for you."

***

"Sam, Donna," Josh called as he threaded his way through tables full of Minnesotans towards his colleagues, "did you know that aliens -- What the hell is that?" he demanded, stopping short next to the table.

CJ and Toby nearly collided into him.  "What is your--"

"Ta-da!" Sam exclaimed, displaying his and Donna's handiwork.  CJ, Josh, and Toby stared in mute horror at a small collection of French fries arranged in a way that suggested it was suppose to be a sculpture.  CJ couldn't figure out what the hell it was a sculpture of, though.

"What in God's name is that?" Toby demanded.

"It's a knorr," Sam answered in a tone that suggested Toby should have known.

Josh's brow furrowed.  "What's a knorr?"

"You really don't listen to anything anyone else says, do you?" Donna shook her head sadly at her boss.

"Was there really a point in time when someone discussed small French fry designs with me?" Josh wondered.  "And if so, we really need to talk about how to manage my time more effectively."

Donna retorted with an eloquent roll of her eyes.

"It's a Viking ship," Sam corrected.  "See this French fry right here?  It's the keel made from a single timber."  Off their blank looks, he continued somewhat defensively, "The Governor talked at some length--"

"The Governor," CJ muttered, "always talks at some length."

"True," Toby agreed.  "But can we concentrate on the fact that two valuable staffers are wasting time building ships--"

"Viking ships," Sam repeated, shooting Donna a pensive look.  "Do you think they would have recognized it if we'd used something else?"

"Something else?" Josh asked, smiling widely enough to unleash those dimples of his.

"Chicken fingers probably would have worked," Donna nodded seriously.  "More suggestive of wood than, you know, the yellow French fries."

"Or fish sticks," Sam added.

"Fish sticks?" CJ repeated, incredulous.

"There is no limit to what you can do with fish sticks and enough time," Sam answered, breaking the tall, French fry mast off of his creation and popping it in his mouth.  CJ just stared at him.  "What?" he demanded.  "Didn't you go to college?"

"Yes, but I actually studied instead of making fish-stick models of Viking ships."

Smirking, Josh volunteered, "I once made a beer can pyramid, but it was short-lived."

Donna rolled her eyes and scooted farther into the booth.  "Are you guys going to sit down?"

Josh slid in beside her and CJ followed suit, leaving Toby the chair.  And, CJ noted with a frown, quite a bit of room for her.  She eyed Josh and Donna, who were sitting close together, and rubbed absently at her forehead.

"Sam," Toby barked, "does not have enough time to be making models out of French fries or any other kind of food."

"Well, you're forty-five minutes late.  We were bored." Sam shrugged off the admonition, asking CJ, "Has the Governor made a decision about the Trade Bill yet?"

"No," she answered.  "But--"

"All he needs," Josh interrupted loudly, "is a little more time."

Donna pressed her lips firmly together to repress her smile.

It took a moment for CJ to catch on.  "Yes," CJ said, turning a bright smile Sam's way.  "A little more time to be sure what he feels," she managed, her voice high and breathy with amusement.

Toby stared at her strangely.  "What the hell, CJ?"

Sam frowned.  "Did you--"

"Donna," CJ interrupted quickly, "could I see that menu?"

Grinning, Donna slid the vaguely sticky plastic menu to CJ and turned her amused look back to Sam.  He looked perturbed.  "What are you guys--?"

"Hey, Sam," Josh asked, pulling a French fry free from the dilapidated structure and taking a bite.  He made a face and tossed the half-eaten fry down.  "They're cold," he muttered, swallowing with some difficulty.

"Josh!" Donna shrieked, staring forlornly at the structure formerly known as a Viking ship.  It now more closely resembled a pile of French fries.  "You ruined it!"

"All good things must come to an end," Josh retorted, still studying the menu.

Sam gave his friend a baleful look.  "Donna and I should've been the ones to, you know, wreck it."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Toby remarked to no one in particular.  CJ nodded in emphatic agreement.

"You were forty-five minutes late," Donna pointed out.  Again.  "We were bored.  And Josh ruined the fruits of our labor."

"The fries of your labor," Josh corrected to a chorus of groans.  He shrugged, unconcerned.  "Whatever.  So, Sam, did you by any chance do any polling about the Fair Trade Bill?"

Sam blinked.  "In my spare time?" Toby glowered pointedly at the pile of fries, and Sam continued briskly, "No, I have a call in to the DNC to get a poll in the field, but we need to discuss the questions."

The waiter arrived, and CJ, Toby, and Josh ordered quickly.  Donna added a milkshake to Josh's order, which sparked a small debate over whether she was ordering it for him, or for herself.  CJ's headache flared up; she fished her emergency Advil out and dry-swallowed two caplets.

Josh finally turned his mind back to the problem at hand.  "We need a few questions about the Trade Bill, and we should probably put something in there about the picture--"

"I don't think we should poll it," CJ announced.

Toby, Josh, and Sam gave her incredulous looks.

"Why not?" Donna asked curiously.

Sam nodded in agreement with her question.  "You don't think we should poll on the Trade Bill?"

"No, I don't," CJ answered.  "We can't afford another charge that our platform is a result of polling, especially not with such an important question."  She frowned.  "And especially not if the Governor decides to support the bill.  It can't look like he decided to stick with something because the polling numbers told him to.  The RNC would have a field day.  I can imagine the ads--"

"I can too," Josh said, eyes narrowed as he chewed on the problem.  "I'm still not convinced he should sign the bill."

"Well," Sam said, his expression somber.  "I talked to Kathy in the Manchester office about two hours ago.  The Republicans scheduled the House vote for Tuesday.  He'll get the question in the next day or two, and we're going to need an answer."

Toby nodded slowly.  "This isn't a decision we can make for--"  He paused, leaning back to allow the waiter to distribute drinks.  "We can't make this decision for the Governor," he pointed out.

"We can advise him," CJ argued.  "He wouldn't have invited us into the discussion if he wasn't looking for outside opinions."

"No," Toby said.  "He invited us into the discussion so that he could lecture us about macroeconomics."

Sam grinned at his boss. Donna shook her head slightly.  "But he can't make a decision based on economics alone, right?  I mean, isn't that the governing principle of free-market ideologues?"

Josh gave her an impressed look.  "Yes, exactly.  The economics of the situation are irrelevant.  Not that that small fact will stop the Governor from yammering on about it for an hour."  Josh took a sip of his Coke.  "Okay.  What do we all think?"

CJ shrugged.  "I think he should support it.  I think it shows consistency and a willingness to take a stand on important human rights issues.  It resonates with the DNC platform, plus it has the added bonus of appealing to states' rights advocates."

Josh gave her a skeptical look.  "You really think the conservatives are going to be won over by a states' rights argument that's in favor of socialism?"

"It's not socialism; it's democracy," Sam pointed out.  "The voters of New Hampshire chose to support this bill."

"And what about the backlash?" Toby demanded.  "That's handing the Republicans an invitation to talk about the Constitutional issues -- How can we trust him to uphold the Constitution as president if he can't even do it as governor?"

Sam looked disappointed.  "You don't think he should sign it?"

Toby gave his subordinate an impatient look.  "As a liberal, I think he should sign it.  As media director of his campaign, I'm not so sure."

Josh nodded slowly.  "Exactly."

Sam shook his head.  "No.  I agree with CJ.  I think he should sign it if he supports it, and to hell with the Republicans.  If he doesn't sign it, they'll have plenty of fodder for an attack ad -- There goes Governor Bartlet, flip-flopping again.  How can we trust him to take a firm stand on anything if he governs by the polls?"

"Flip-flopping?" Toby repeated in a tortured voice.  "Why did I hire you again?"

CJ opened her mouth to answer, but the waiter arrived bearing plates of greasy food.   She waited until he'd distributed their meals. "Sam's right," she said, cutting her sandwich into fourths.  "Either way, the Republicans will get a commercial out of it.  The issue is whether or not we can spin it if the Governor does a 180 on this in the middle of a campaign."

Josh swallowed hastily.  "I don't think we can," he decided.  "It would look bad if he reversed his stance."

Toby grimaced.  "So you suggest we tell him to sign the bill?"

With a little half-grin, Josh said, "No, I suggest we advise him to sign the bill."

"Right," CJ agreed.  "And we tell him to make a statement as soon as possible to change the subject from the damn Viking picture to this.  Leno will still make the joke, but he'll also make a joke about the thread count in sheets."

Sam frowned.  "Huh?"

"One of the provisions in the bill," CJ explained, pausing with her sandwich in front of her mouth.  "One of the local papers erroneously explained the bill that way and some other papers picked up the description."

"We should get Leo in on this," Toby decided.  "And try to talk to the Governor tonight so that he can go out and make a statement in the morning."

Donna sat up a little straighter in her seat, her attention caught on the TV screen hanging over the small bar.  "Uh, guys?"

"We need to convince Leo first," Josh pointed out.  "Toby, you should--"

"You talk to him," Toby interrupted.

Frowning, Josh said, "Toby, I've got a meeting with Beckworth tonight, and this needs to be addressed--"

"I'd rather you talked to Leo about this," Toby insisted with a dark look in CJ's direction.  She curbed the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

Josh shook his head.  "Toby, I need you to--"

"Josh," Donna interrupted sharply, pointing at the TV screen.

CJ half-turned in her seat, squinting to see the graphics.  "Oh, God," she muttered, sliding towards the edge of the bench.

The entire group of them piled out of the booth and moved en masse to the bar, crowding around the TV, which was tuned to CNN.  On screen, the Governor, standing among the petroglyphs that afternoon, said, "I have supported the New Hampshire Fair Trade Bill since its inception almost two years ago.  It didn't have the support to make it to a vote last session, but this year, it has already passed the state Senate and is scheduled for a vote in the House this coming Tuesday."

"So you'll sign the bill?" asked the reporter.

Governor Bartlet smiled and nodded.  "Of course.  I support the right of the citizens of New Hampshire to make decisions about how their tax money should be spent.  I understand that the Supreme Court struck down a similar law several years ago, but I don't believe this bill to be unconstitutional.  I fully support the New Hampshire Fair Trade Bill."

"Well," CJ said, as CNN moved on to an unrelated story about an illegal dog fight in Nevada, "I guess Toby doesn't have to talk to Leo tonight."

Toby gave her an unamused look.  "You should call some reporters and get a statement out there tonight.  Sam, write me a legal memo on the bill, then write me a PR memo. Josh--"

Josh held up a hand.  "I'm still staffing Bartlet College."

CJ frowned. "What?"

"Debate prep," Josh explained, heading back to the table.  They all followed suit, piling into the booth and getting back to their meal.  "The Governor needs to brush up on some domestic and foreign affairs stuff before the debates."

"That's why you had me call Senator Kennedy?" Donna asked.  "The debates aren't until next month."

Josh gave her a grin.  "There's a lot of material."

"I have a question," Sam said.

"What?"

"Is Bartlet College going to be in Manchester?"

CJ sighed, anticipating the answer before Josh gave it.  "Bartlet College," CJ guessed, "is going to be on the bus."

"Right," Josh gave her a small grin.  "We've got a lot of work to do.  What are the most important issues he'll be asked about in October?"

As Toby and Sam and Josh and even Donna started tossing around ideas, CJ munched on her sandwich and watched.  The campaign thus far had been hard but worthwhile, and CJ thought it was probably only going to get more insane.  More hectic.  More stressful.  Still, she thought, it was damn good to be back on the campaign trail.

Even if she did have to travel on that damn bus

THE END

The Challenge Elements:

1. Josh & Donna in the bathtub, clothing optional.
2. A political problem involving the thread count in sheets.
3. "There is no limit to what you can do with fish sticks and enough time."
4. A faked orgasm.
5. A seventh century Viking sword.

10.09.02