ACT ONE
INT. JOSH'S OFFICE, ONE MINUTE LATER
Spurred into action by the news, the staff went into instant overdrive. Josh ushered Helen and Donna into his office to wait. "I'll let you know what's happening as soon as I know."
"Is there anything I can do?" Donna asked anxiously as Josh was about to shut the door to the Oval.
"No, we'll know more soon. But you might get prepared to go on without us."
"Go on without you?" Helen asked incredulously.
"No matter what happens, there are thousands of people out there who have been promised a glimpse of the President. At the very least, we need to make sure they get a glimpse of the First Lady. There's no one else…" His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. There was no Vice President-- no Leo-- to assume the ceremonial duties of the evening in case of crisis.
Once Josh had vanished behind the door to the Oval, they both stood in silence, letting the reality of the situation soak in. Finally, Helen turned to Donna. "He's not serious. You and I going to the balls without Matt?"
Donna gulped. "I'm afraid he is."
"Is it really possible for the President to not go to these things?"
"There is precedence. FDR never attended an Inaugural Ball. And of course he had opportunity for a lot of them. And if this is… if this is it, if the Chinese or Russians have fired the first shot, then there is no way the President will be able to leave tonight."
"You think that's what's happened?" Horror was written all over Helen's face.
"I have no idea." Donna shook her head.
"Is it always like this?" Helen put her hand on her stomach as if to quell nausea.
"What do you mean?"
"Hearing news like this, news that soldiers have died and feeling so… so responsible, even when I have nothing to do with it?"
Donna thought about it a moment before answering. "The shock becomes less, but that sick feeling never goes away," she ended with a sympathetic smile
They both sat in silence. After a few minutes, Helen turned to her curiously. "How'd you know the FDR thing?"
"I have a mind for trivia," Donna replied, but she didn't look at Helen. Her eyes were glued to the door to the Oval. It was a door she desperately wanted to be on the other side of.
CUT TO:
INT. OVAL OFFICE – SAME TIME
Josh shook his head. "General McClain is on his way-"
Just then, Ronna opened the door and ushered the general into the room.
"Good evening, Mr. President," he nodded to the President.
"What do we know, General?"
"We've found the wreckage; there are no survivors."
"Four soldiers dead." The President closed his eyes for two seconds, taking in the information, and then re-focused on the general. "Do we know what caused the
crash?"
"We've ruled out a hostile incident. All the facts aren't in, but we have good reason to believe it was an accident."
"An accident?"
"Yes, Sir. Unfortunately, helicopter accidents are not as rare as we would like."
"I know." The President, and former Marine pilot, nodded. "Inclement weather?"
"Might have been a factor, Sir. We'll know more soon."
"What about the flight data recorder?"
"We should have both the flight data recorder and the cockpit voice recorder soon, but of course it will take awhile to analyze the data."
"Okay. Thank you, General. Please keep me informed." The general nodded and headed out of the room.
When he left, Josh blew out a breath. "That's good news."
"Good news?!"
Josh looked him in the eye and clarified, "Good news of the we're-not-at-war-with-a-nuclear-power variety. Big picture. Of course, it goes without saying what kind of news the death of the soldiers is."
"Right… big picture,"
Josh continued, "Like the general said, helicopter accidents occur pretty much wherever there are helicopters."
"Yes, it is, Sir." Sam spoke for the fist time. "There's nothing like reports of fatalities, especially the first fatalities, to make Americans examine the cost of any military action."
Sam and Josh exchanged a quick look of alarm and Josh nodded to Sam, prodding him wordlessly to speak. "Mr. President," Sam began carefully. "We have to continue on with our evening."
"What!?" He asked, his voice once again strained.
"Sir, there's nothing we can do here."
"But Americans are dead."
"Yes," Josh replied, his lips pressed into a grim line.
"And you want me to go out and party?"
"No, but you need to go and fulfill your obligations. Thousands of people are waiting to catch a glimpse of you. You need to make an appearance."
"Won't it be charged that the Commander-in-Chief is out whooping it up while troops are serving and dying?"
Stepping forward, Lou answered. "Otto is working on a statement from you and Lester will release it before we even leave the White House." The new Press Secretary nodded his agreement as Lou continued, "You'll do a moment of silence at the first ball, followed by a dance with your wife to something slow and appropriately reverent or perhaps patriotic. That should show your respect without killing the mood of the party entirely. Otto will stay back here for an hour or so, in case there is any fall-out."
"But… I…" The President tried to come up with a viable argument. "I have to call the families…"
"I'll have Donna-" Josh paused at his slip of the tongue. He was used to standing in the Oval and relying on Donna to get things done. "I mean Ronna. Ronna will stay in contact with the personnel here and as soon as we have the names, we'll find a quiet place, wherever we are."
CUT TO:
INT. – LIMO
Donna was sitting alone in the limo, waiting for Josh to finish up and be ready to go.
Several minutes later, the door opened and Lou and Sam slid into the expansive car across from her.
"Where's Josh?" Donna asked with alarm when Josh didn't follow them into the car she was expecting to share only with him.
"He'll be here in a minute. He asked us to ride with you two so we could go over some things on the way," Lou replied as she tried to get comfortable sitting in a limo in her gown. She wasn't successful. "Seriously, women wear this crap of their own free will?" Her question was rhetorical.
"How's the President?" Donna asked anxiously, thirsty for any information.
Sam responded as he pushed his glasses farther up his face. "It's hitting him pretty hard. He wanted to cancel his appearances at the balls."
"You talked him out of it?" Donna's eyebrows were raised.
They both nodded, but again it was Sam who replied. "I think he feared it would be disrespectful for him to attend the parties."
"So how are we handling that?"
"We hope he can find the right tone for the evening," Lou answered without specifics as the door opened again, and Josh slid in next to Donna. "Respectful, but not morose."
"Right now he's pretty morose." Josh's reply came out alongside a sharp exhale. He caught Donna's eye and gave her a small smiled.
"Morose is understandable." She automatically curved toward him and put a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's the first death on his watch."
"Well, let's hope he snaps out of it in the next thirty minutes. The last thing he needs to do is bite off the heads of dignitaries. And I don't even want to think about the consequences if he'd cancelled; at re-election the opposition would have had a field day remembering how Santos was so flummoxed by a helicopter accident that he had to stay home," Lou charged as she now was trying to arrange the wrap around her shoulder.
Donna glared at Lou's cavalier attitude, before her gaze darted between Sam and Josh. "Do you remember what it felt like? The first time? Of course, for President Bartlet it didn't happen the night of the Inauguration."
After a moment of introspection, Sam admitted, "I didn't sleep that night."
"I didn't sleep that week." Josh added softly while chewing on the side of his mouth.
Lost in thought, he turned to look out the window. Donna squeezed his hand as the car started to move.
CUT TO:
INT. PRESIDENTIAL LIMO, SAME TIME
Matt sat staring out the window of the limo as the motorcade moved through the darkened DC streets. The flashing lights of the police blockades were visible, but significantly toned down by the dark tinted windows of the limo. Other than that, he wasn't really paying attention to what he was looking at.
Helen studied him. When they'd made half the trip in silence, she finally nudged him. "Silver dollar for your thoughts."
He started and then turned back towards her, his lip quirked in surprise. "Silver dollar?"
"That sexy new President really ought to do something about inflation."
"Right." He flinched slightly. "I'll put that on the list. Should it come before or after men and women dying in
She reached over and rubbed his shoulder. "Honey, I was… trying to make you smile. Bad timing. I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that."
Matt exhaled sharply. "No… no, I'm sorry. This shouldn't affect me so much. I shouldn't let my mood ruin what is supposed to be the best night of our lives."
"The best night of our lives?" Helen questioned dubiously, obviously trying to jostle him out of his sour temper. "I thought the best night of our lives was our wedding night."
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "If I remember correctly, you passed out on our wedding night before we could… celebrate properly."
"See, that right there is a lesson about high expectations. Back then and tonight." She leaned over and pressed her lips to the side of his face before turning serious. "I know this is a lot to take in on your first day."
He was silent for a long moment. "But I’m a Marine; I shouldn't be so bothered by this. I know the risks."
"Yes, you are. But you've never been a Commander-in-Chief before. I would guess it's different."
He actually chuckled softly at the understatement. "Yeah, I guess it's different. It's one thing to be in the field. You know the unexpected can happen. I'd hear about a flight accident during training on some base or another halfway around the world; it would give me a moment's pause and then I'd focus on to my next orders. It was part of that life. But I sent those kids over there. I am the one ultimately responsible for their deaths."
"Matt, it was an accident. It's not your fault."
"Then whose fault is it? Someone has to take the blame, and I'm the reason they're there in the first place."
"You didn't send them over there. The last guy is the one who did that and left you holding the bag."
"It was my decision to keep them there. It's a decision I just have to learn to live with, but I don't think that lesson is going to come easy." He patted her hand and attempted a smile at her. "As soon as I'm able to make the calls to the families, I'll snap out of it, and I promise to show you a good time by the end of the night."
"If I don't pass out before then." But she smiled and settled back against him.
CUT TO:
INT. – THE WEST WING, OFFICE 137B, SAME TIME
"What are you doing?" Otto had his hands propped on his waist, arms akimbo, trying to appear authoritative as he stood in the doorway of the office.
"I just got off the phone with Annabeth. She's over at the Inaugural Committee headquarters and is making sure the changes in the program are a go for the first ball. I'm not sure why she volunteered to work over there tonight, but to each her own." Bram was all efficiency.
"Great, but I meant, what are you doing in this office?" Otto clarified, his voice rising slightly in pitch as he reached the end of the sentence.
"Well, I needed to make a phone call. And I thought my office was the best place to do that."
"Whoa… your office?"
"That's what the sign on the door says."
"There is no sign on the door."
"There will be," Bram explained with good nature and a spark of arrogance. "Because Cindy from Administration came around this afternoon and said it would be here next week." Bram cocked an eyebrow at Otto. "I don't usually go for redheads, but a very good-looking woman, that Cindy."
"What are we talking about?!" Otto asked with confusion, his annoyance growing.
"The name plaque that Cindy, the hot redhead, will be installing on the door."
"No…" Otto ground out. "She won't. At least not with your name, because this is not your office."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's my office."
"If it's your office…" Bram sat back with his fingers laced behind his head. "Then why am I sitting here, with my stuff already in the desk and my name almost on the door?"
"That is a question I can't answer. Why do you think this is your office?"
"What makes you think it's yours?"
"The office assignment chart," Otto replied automatically.
"Same. According to…" Bram sat up long enough to find the piece of paper on his desk. "…this chart. This is my office."
"Let me see." Otto snatched it away and, after a moment of reading, frowned at Bram over the top of the paper. Bram didn't seem concerned, as he was once again leaning back in the chair and resting his feet on the desk. Otto stepped forward in order to show the chart to Bram. "Right there. My name-- office 137B. That's this office."
"It says the same thing by my name. Don't tell me they want us to share?" Bram looked alarmed for the first time.
"No, by your name it says B137."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference, I believe, is that 137 B is an office number. This one, to be exact. B137 is a desk in the bullpen. Bullpen 137." Otto pointed out the door. "I think somewhere close to Sam's office."
"That must be a mistake." Bram looked at him in utter disbelief.
"I don't think so," Otto replied. Finally having the upper hand in the conversation, now his tone was matter-of-fact. "You're an Assistant Deputy Chief of Staff."
"You don't have to tell me that," Bram replied proudly.
"None of the Assistant Deputy Chiefs of Staff have West Wing offices."
"Are you sure?" Now Bram snatched the sheet.
"Well, I'm sure that I'm the Deputy Communications Director. And that I have an office and that 137B happens to be right next to the Communication Director's, so it makes sense that they would assign it to me."
"But I'm the Assistant Deputy Chief of Staff!" Bram uttered, as if that would explain everything.
"You know there are a half dozen people with that title, right?"
Bram stood, scowling at him, and was about to retort when they were interrupted.
"If you guys are done waving your big man parts around," Ronna interjected from the door. "I have the information on the soldiers who were killed in
Chastened, they instantly became serious, the bickering over the office suddenly a distant memory.
CUT TO:
As they walked into the back staging area of the
"Anything I can help-" But her voice died in her throat, as he was already ten feet away and a moment later, was huddled with the President. She glanced at Helen, but she was surrounded by relatives and Peter and Miranda-- who were attending just this first ball-- and seemed not to be in need of her attention. Instead, she turned to find Sam, who had been right behind her. Now they stood near the stage at the front edge of the party.
"I'm sorry your fiancée couldn't be here tonight," Donna remarked with utmost sincerity.
Sam smiled fondly. "Lauren had to be in
"It's too bad. These things are… such events."
"Such events? Has their charm worn completely off for you too, Donna?" Sam teased.
She elbowed him gently. "No, I think there is something very magical about an Inaugural Ball, if you let yourself enjoy it. It's a shame she's missing it. But I'm looking forward to meeting her when she can make it out on a permanent basis."
"She's looking forward to meeting you, too…" He trailed off as he looked across the room. "Will you excuse me a minute, Donna? I see Andi Wyatt, she left me a message this afternoon and it sounded important."
"Of course… important," Donna uttered to herself through her smile as she watched him go. She turned back toward the staging area to find Helen. Maybe the First Lady had some duty of actual importance for her to attend to.
CUT TO:
"Andi! You look wonderful." Sam took her hands in order to appraise the Congresswoman, before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "Sam, it's so good to see you back in
"It's good to be back. How are the twins? I've seen pictures, but I'm anxious to meet them."
"Say the word and you can baby-sit."
The look of terror that crossed Sam's face made Andi laugh. "Joking. They're great.
They're actually with Toby tonight."
"Oh?" Sam asked, not sure how to respond to the subject of Toby.
"That's actually why I called you this afternoon."
"I'm sorry I didn't return your call today. This afternoon went by very quickly. And
then we had some bad news."
"I know. How's President Santos doing?"
"Taking it very personally, of course. So what can I do for you?"
"It's Toby." Caught off-guard, Sam raised his eyebrows at her. "Or rather, it's about Toby's pardon," she clarified.
"What about it?"
"Of course I'm thrilled. But… from what I'm hearing, I might be the only one. I wanted to warn you."
"Really?" Sam crossed his arms and rocked to his heels and then back again.
"Democrats are furious about the potential public relations fallout and I'm afraid Republicans are wasting no time in painting Bartlet's last act as President as an abuse of power- releasing a man who committed treason for purely personal reasons."
"Toby was a dedicated servant of the President and this country for over seven years," Sam replied as if he'd memorized talking points. He hadn't.
"You don't have to sell me." She took a deep fortifying breath, as if trying to cleanse herself of the entire nightmare. "Sam, what I'm hearing is that they're going to use this to stall Baker's confirmation."
If she didn't have it already, that got Sam's full attention. "How?"
"Clemency. They're threatening to make clemency *the* issue. Grill Baker on where he stands on a constitutional amendment prohibiting it. Spend days on his pardon record as Governor of Pennsylvania. Derail the whole thing based on where he stands on Bartlet pardoning Toby."
Sam looked ashen. "This is… not good."
"No it's not." Andi shook her head in resignation."If you'll excuse me, I need to find Eric Baker."
CUT TO:
INT. – THE WEST WING, OFFICE 137B
Ronna, Bram and Otto all sat around disputed office 137B in their formalwear. Bram was on the phone, Otto tried to look at home, and Ronna just seemed jumpy.
Bram hung up and looked between the other two. "So Annabeth says that from reports to the Inaugural Committee headquarters, it went off without a hitch and they are headed to the next ball. The President spoke for a few minutes, there was a moment of silence for the soldiers and then Faith Hill and Tim McGraw sang Proud to be an American and the First Couple danced. "
"They danced to that?" Ronna practically scoffed.
"I guess." Bram shrugged.
"How do you dance to that song?"
"I suppose they swayed. How do I know? Annabeth just told me that she heard it worked very well. From that song, they were able to work it back into a party atmosphere."
"Right. Party atmosphere." Ronna sat back in her chair glumly.
Otto watched her a moment before asking, "You got all the info to Josh about the soldier's families?" When Ronna nodded, he waved towards the door. "Then you should go meet up with them."
That perked her up mightily. "Really? You don't need me?"
He shook his head. "It's been quiet so far and you stayed behind in order to get the information. You've done that. Besides, you're all dressed up, no need to waste that here on Wally and me."
"Who?" Bram asked.
Ronna ignored the Leave it to Beaver reference, and Otto ignored Bram's question. "Can you guys come, too?"
Bram shook his head. "We'll catch up in an hour or so if it stays quiet. Otto's right." Bram grimaced as if it pained him to admit that. "Go on."
"Well if you don't mind." Ronna was already on her feet, gathering her belongings.
"Call Annabeth, she should be able to tell you which ball to head towards in order to meet them...." Bram called after her, but she was already gone.
Now it was just the two men in the office.
After a minute Bram grumped to Otto, "I suppose you want me to get my stuff out of here?"
"Well, seeing as it's my office, I think that would be best. Unless you want to give me your…" He picked up an offending object and looked at it curiously. "Sports Illustrated swimsuit-a-day calendar. Are there really 365 different pictures of models in bikinis in this thing?"
Before Bram could answer, one of the press aides knocked on the open door. Both Bram and Otto looked up at him expectantly.
"There's something online I think you guys should see."
FADE TO BLACK