ACT FOUR
INT. THE HAWK & DOVE, EVENING
"Here's my question, what if someone said something to a reporter not knowing they were a reporter?" Bram asked Otto as they leaned up against the bar waiting for their drinks.
"What are you talking about?"
"Lou's email today. About leaks to reporters having to be cleared. What if you were at a bar, having a random conversation with a woman and it wasn't until way into it that you found out she was a reporter and she wouldn't commit to the previous part of the conversation being off the record," Bram expounded on his question.
Otto shook his head in confusion. "I think you should talk to Sam."
"But that's the thing. I don't want to talk to Sam unless I have to because I don't know if it was me. I don't remember saying any of that stuff to her. In fact, I doubt I ever knew any of that stuff, but I
did talk to a reporter."
"Then don't tell Sam." Otto rolled his eyes and accepted his beer. "But stop talking about this before Lou gets here, okay? I don't feel the need to get yelled at tonight and she's in a bad enough mood over the whole thing with Josh and Donna and the press."
"I don't get why they just don't do an interview," Bram said following Otto to an empty table. They were the first ones to arrive.
"I can't say I'd be in any hurry to talk about my love life with the press," Otto shrugged.
"How long do you think it's been going on? I've heard rumors that they've actually been together since the first Bartlet campaign."
"Don't believe everything you read on Drudge," Lou growled as she, Ronna and Lester arrived in time to hear Bram's last rumination. "I know for a fact they weren't even speaking when I hired Donna."
"I know for a fact he refused to hire Donna," Ronna commented. "That was brutal. Poor girl was in tears when she left the office after the interview."
"Are we going to talk about work all night?" Lester asked.
"You're right. We should talk about something else," Lou agreed.
An awkward silence descended on the table in the wake of her pronouncement as the five of them traded glances, each waiting for the others to start a non-work related conversation.
"I'd put money on election night," Ronna said, restarting the conversation.
"Me, too," Lou chimed in.
"Probably," agreed Lester.
CUT TO:
INT. SAM & LAUREN'S APT., EVENING
Sam let himself into the apartment he and Lauren shared and dropped his keys in the basket by the door. "I'm home!"
"Hey!" Lauren smiled, coming out of the bedroom with her skirt unzipped and her blouse half unbuttoned.
"Just get home?"
"Yeah. I stopped and picked up some take-out." She nodded toward the kitchen. "I hoped you'd be home at a reasonable hour."
"It was a relatively calm day." Sam kissed her on his way into the bedroom to change his own clothes. "Some minor brush fires, but nothing major."
"Oh?" Lauren knew Sam had been worried about how Josh would react to finding out about her inadvertent leak.
"He had it figured out before I could tell him," Sam said, knowing what Lauren was referring to. "I'm being punished, however."
Lauren raised her eyebrows as she sat down on the bed to pull her pantyhose off. "Josh is punishing you because I didn't realize the senior partner's daughter was a reporter for the Washington Post?"
"No, Josh is punishing me for talking to you too much about things that I shouldn't be talking to you about at all," Sam clarified.
"So now you can't talk to me about work?"
"That's not what I said." Sam rubbed his eyes. "Look, Lauren, there are things at work that I can talk about and things I can't. That's the way it is. This is my fault. I never should have put you in a position to know things you shouldn't."
"That's it then? You have a crappy day at work because you have to help the President make the decision to assassinate someone and I can't help you through it because you can't tell me about it because I'm not trusted to keep my mouth shut?" Lauren sounded hurt.
"That's not fair. There are plenty of things you can't tell me because of attorney-client privilege," Sam pointed out, pulling off his socks.
"I know," Lauren sighed. She sat down on the bed next to him. "Just let me know what we've already talked about that I shouldn't let on that I know about."
"Probably want to start with the Superfund lawsuit," Sam frowned. "In fact, it would probably be best if you didn't bring anything related to it into the apartment."
"Why?"
"I've been assigned to assist the White House Counsel in disposing of the suit," Sam answered.
"Please tell me you're kidding?"
Sam shook his head.
"Isn't that a conflict of interest for you?"
"As Josh pointed out, no more than it is for you. Plus, I'm not litigating it. I'm along to handle any political implications."
Lauren wrapped her arms around Sam. "I'm starting to think moving here was a bad idea."
"It'll be okay, baby, I promise." Sam murmured, burrowing his face into Lauren's neck.
CUT TO:
INT. DONNA'S APT., LATE NIGHT
"Coming!" Donna called. She had no idea who would be pounding on her door at one o'clock in the morning, but once she got done fumbling with the locks, she was certainly going to give whoever it was a piece of her mind. Especially if it was the drunken friends of the guy down the hall. They'd pounded on her door the night before as well, thinking it was his. Finally, throwing the door open as far as the chain guard allowed she saw one of Josh's Secret Service agents and bit back her tirade. "Rodney."
"Ms. Moss. May I come in?"
Donna closed the door, unhooked the chain and let the agent in. Opening the door, she saw Josh leaning against the hallway with his hands shoved in his pockets, waiting. The shoulders of his overcoat were damp, telling her it had started to rain or snow since she'd been home.
Despite her desire to have this conversation and clear up the misunderstanding between them, faced with the prospect of actually having it, Donna was suddenly nervous.
"It's clear," Rodney said leaving the apartment and taking up a post outside the door.
"Hi," Donna whispered, hugging herself against the chill in the hallway.
"Mr. Lyman, could you please step inside?" the agent interrupted before Josh could respond.
"She hasn't invited me in," Josh pointed out.
"Ms. Moss, would you please invite Mr. Lyman inside? We haven't done a complete security shakedown of this building because we didn't know either of you was going to be spending significant time here."
"Come in," Donna said, turning and ushering Josh into her apartment and then closing the door behind them.
"I want to know what I did," Josh said softly. "I've been racking my brain since Sunday morning trying to figure out what it is I did or said or forgot so that I don't do it again, and I can't come up with anything that would be so bad that you would want to move out. So here I am, asking. What did I do?"
Donna rubbed her arms and sat down on the sofa. She spoke softly, but clearly "You didn't do anything. I just needed to move back here. I explained the rent situation to you, Josh. Why are you making this bigger than it is?"
"Because I don't understand what's going on," Josh replied. "I was happy the way we were and I thought you were happy too. And then you moved out. Which seems to indicate you aren't happy. Donna, this thing isn't going to work if you and I live halfway across town from each other. Not with our schedules." Josh swallowed hard. He didn't really want to ask the next question, but he had to know. "Is that what you're trying to tell me? That you aren't happy with me anymore?"
"We could make it work if we tried," Donna shrugged. The veneer of her surface excuse was peeling away. "We could set up a schedule of whose place we stay at which day."
"Think about our days, Donna," Josh pleaded. "I leave for the office at 6 o'clock in the morning, and I'm lucky to get home by 8 o'clock at night . I bring work home with me. I want to spend some of that precious time with you, and the last thing I want to worry about is whose apartment I'm going to and whether I've got clean underwear there for the next day. Why is it so important to you that you live here? Help me understand."
Donna looked up at Josh, his confusion written all over his face and realized just how right Annabeth had been that afternoon. She was expecting him to hear what she was saying without ever uttering the words.
"I can't do this anymore," Donna burst out, collapsed against the back of the sofa. "I'm tired of being on magazine covers and being talked about on the Sunday shows and discussed at the water cooler. I just want to live my life and I thought if I moved out, the media would take that as a hint that maybe they were reading more into it than was there and go away and then we could pick back up..."
Donna trailed off at the look of hurt and disbelief on Josh's face.
"You moved out because of the... the..." Josh waved his arm at the window unable to even articulate the word 'media.' "I thought we agreed we weren't going to let them in? That if we did, this is what would happen!"
Donna reached out and grabbed Josh's hand, pulling him closer to her, surprising him slightly, but comforting him, too, with her desire to be near him. "It's already happened, Josh. It's all I hear about from people all day long and I know it's the same for you."
"It is, and I'm tired of talking about it with people who barely know us, but that's not what bothers me the most." He kneeled down in front of her and looked her in the eyes. "What kills me is that we were so sick of it we can't even talk to each other. I mean, we had those first conversations when we decided we weren't going to do an interview, but then that was it. I never told you how violated I felt to see those pictures of us on that magazine cover or how bad I felt that I couldn't take you out to dinner on Valentine's Day..."
"I know I should have told you how I was feeling. I just thought maybe my moving out because of the rent thing wouldn't upset you so much. I never thought you'd think I was breaking up with you." Donna leaned forward and rested her head against Josh's shoulder, seeking shelter in his arms. "I thought we were getting better with the communicating thing."
"We need to stop protecting each other from what we're feeling. It only made things worse here. This whole stupid misunderstanding could have been avoided if we had just talked to each other," Josh said, caressing Donna's back.
"I love you so much," Donna whispered in his ear.
"I love you too, and that's all that matters. I don't even care what anybody says or prints or screams from the television anymore. I don't care about Lou or Lester or Annabeth. I care about you." He pulled back and brushed the wetness from the corner of her eye. "And the President gave me an idea tonight of a way to shut everybody up and I think it'll work."
"What is it?" Donna asked, cupping his face with her hands. She was ready to try anything short of an interview to get this media monkey off their backs.
"If you agree, I'm going to do Capital Beat this week and I'm going to take one question about us and my response is going to be how our private life is private and it's nobody's business."
Donna smiled, remembering the rant she had heard Josh deliver to the television set on more than one occasion. The rant that convinced her he was right on the issue. "I'll agree on one condition."
"What's that?" Josh asked, relieved she was willing to go along with the idea.
"I get to go along and talk about the HPV vaccine."
DISSOLVE TO:
DONNA'S OFFICE, MORNING
"My aren't we perky this morning," Annabeth grinned at Donna like a Cheshire cat. As obviously down as the woman had been yesterday, she was equally happy today. "Much improved from yesterday."
Donna blushed but didn't say anything.
"That's okay, you don't have to say anything. You've got make-up sex written all over your face." Annabeth teased.
"There was no make-up sex because he showed up at one o'clock in the morning!" Donna hissed, trying to look scandalized. "But, yes, nosy Nelly, we did get things worked out."
"And?"
"And why don't you give your friend my number. I'm looking for someone to sublet my apartment until the lease is up. We've got a meeting with the First Lady in fifteen minutes," Donna said, sweeping into her office.
CUT TO:
INT. OPS BULLPEN, MORNING
Bram dumped his briefcase on his desk and strode through the corridors trying to look more confident than he felt. Otto had convinced him that he needed to talk to Sam about his drunken conversation with the intern from the Post over the weekend. If Lou found out before Sam did, Bram was dead meat, Otto had advised. Sam was a guy, he'd understand.
"Is Sam here?" Bram asked Ginger.
"He just headed to Communications. If you run you can catch him before the morning staff meeting."
Bram hesitated for half a second and then took off at a trot. "Sam!"
"What's up?" Sam asked without breaking his stride.
"Can I talk to you for a second?" Bram asked.
"Walk with me. I've got staff in like two minutes."
"I kind of wanted to do this in private."
"This is as private as it's going to be all day," Sam replied, but he did slow his pace.
Bram put his hand on Sam's shoulder effectively stopping him before they reached the communications bullpen.
"I got Lou's email about the leaks in the media and here's the thing, I was out at a bar on Saturday night and I met this girl and the night was almost over before I found out she was an intern for the Post. I cannot for the life of me remember half of what we talked about," he said in an urgent whisper.
Sam stared at the young man for a heartbeat and then started to laugh. "Is this what you were obsessing over all day yesterday?"
"Well, yeah," Bram shrugged one shoulder, surprised that Sam was laughing.
"Bram, you weren't the leak, although as your boss, I'd advise you to make your second question to women 'so what do you do' from here on out."
"I wasn't the leak?"
"No, you weren't." Sam started walking again.
"How do you know?" Bram called.
Sam turned around and gave his young staffer an amused glance before tossing the man's earlier words back at him with a laugh. "Because, Bram, you're nothing but an anonymous cog in the system. Don't you remember? Nobody wants to talk to you."
PAN TO:
INT. COMMUNICATIONS BULLPEN, CONTINUOUS
"How's your head?" Otto asked Lou as they exited their offices and followed Sam on his way to the senior staff meeting.
"I am getting way too old to drink like that," Lou muttered.
"You aren't the only one," Lester groaned, falling into step.
"You know we're going to get held after class today, right?" Lou shot a quick glance at Lester.
"Why do you think I drank so much last night? I figured it'd be the last night I saw freedom until the second term."
"You still think we did the right thing, right?" Lou asked. "Don't bail on me now, Lester."
"Sam and the President both had very good points yesterday, Lou," Lester replied. "But I'm not backing out on you now."
Otto spun around and looked at his two friends. "I don't even want to know what you two did." He walked backwards for a couple of steps before turning again and flashing a smile at Margaret. "Good morning, Margaret."
"Good morning, Otto." The taciturn redhead returned his smile, but scowled at Lou and Lester. "Josh is waiting."
A significant part of Margaret's initial trepidation at working for Josh had been how much he reminded her of Leo, but she found it also engendered in her a loyalty she couldn't shake. She had heard, because the White House walls had ears and the carpets spoke, what had gone on in the Oval Office yesterday and was already plotting her own form of revenge on Josh's behalf.
Josh was sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair. Once everyone was present, he let the chair fall forward. "I'm going to make this one quick because we've all got work to do today. Sam, I called Mike Casper this morning, he's going to coordinate with you and the Counsel's office on the FBI interview of the EPA guy. Make sure you give the Attorney General a head's up and when it's over, brief Lou and Lester in case they start getting questions. Keep pounding Baker's confirmation."
"Got it," Sam replied.
"Amy, go back up to the Hill and do the same thing you did yesterday except this time report to Sam when you get back." Josh locked eyes with the legislative director until she nodded. Satisfied she
understood, he continued. "Lou, Otto, the President has that speech to the National Association of Special Education Teachers next week. That gives us a major opportunity for an education speech. I want to see the draft by the end of the week."
"Not a problem," Otto volunteered. "I've already started."
"Lester, we're beginning talks with key legislators about education reform and OMB is starting to put together our budget projections for the next fiscal year and we look forward to working with the House of Representatives in passing a budget."
"The budget? It's barely March." Lester looked up from his notes questioningly.
"And we're about to ask them for a lot of money to finance an excursion in
The group shook their heads.
"Amy, Otto and Sam, you're excused. Lou and Lester and I have some things to talk about. Lou, would you close the doors, please?"
Lou did as she was asked and then turned to face Josh, her resolve firm. "Look, Josh, you can be as pissed off at me as you want to be, but I am the Communications Director of this Administration and it's my job to get and keep us on message. Something that's proven absolutely impossible since you decided to make out with your girlfriend in front of God and everyone on inauguration night. So I did my job, I went to the supervisor of the person who's the problem. I went to the President about you."
"Do you get that this isn't just about me and Donna?" Josh let the last part of her statement go. The President had already addressed it with her and Josh had a more important issue to address. "If we sit down and do some in-depth Barbara Walters interview, do you get that the precedent is set? That any relationship any White House staffer ever has is fair game? So tell me, just who will you and Otto be picking to do your interview with when it comes out how hot and heavy you two were during the campaign? Lester? You and Edie?"
"Those relationships were both casual and are both over," Lou couldn't believe Josh would stoop to bringing up campaign trail dalliances.
"All it would take is a hotel worker in Houston getting paid $50,000 by the opposition to tell her story about what she saw on the night before the election and a stringer photographer to take a couple of pictures the next time you're out at the bar as a group. Don't believe me? Ask Sam about Laurie the call girl/law student friend of his. I'm sure you remember that one, don't you Lou? You were working in D.C. back then weren't you?"
Lou swallowed hard, remembering the gloating amongst her Republican friends and colleagues at the predicament the in which White House had found itself. In that moment the dime dropped and Josh's stubbornness had a purpose.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do." She nodded.
"That's why the White House doesn't comment on the personal lives of the staff and that's why Donna and I are refusing to do a tell-all interview. I'm sorry this is making your life a little bit difficult
right now, Lester, but there is a reason for it. You two have got to trust that I know what I'm doing. I cannot be fighting the staff and the Hill. We will get nothing accomplished. Understood?"
"Understood," Lester said while Lou continued nodding.
"One more thing, Lou..."
CUT TO:
INT. CAPITAL BEAT SET, THURSDAY, EARLY EVENING
"I'm serious about this, Mark. One question," Josh threatened the show's host as Donna put her microphone on and settled in the chair next to him. "If I were you, I'd save it for the end of the show."
"This is the end of the show. We've got three minutes coming back. We'll do the HPV vaccine and then the question." Mark Gottfried said. He was scribbling notes on his scripts, but he didn't miss the quick hand squeeze that passed between his two guests.
"We're back in 10!" called the floor director.
"Welcome back to Capital Beat," Mark's face lit up the minute the ON AIR light came on in the studio. "We've been talking with the President's chief of staff, Josh Lyman, and joining us is Donna Moss, the First Lady's chief of staff." Mark smiled at Donna who beamed back at him. "Welcome, Donna."
"Thank you, Mark."
"The FDA is rumored to be on the verge of approving a new vaccine for the HPV virus. HPV is a sexual transmitted disease that causes genital warts in both sexes and in women can lead to cervical cancer. Now the manufacturer recommends vaccinations for girls as young as *ten*. What's the White House's position on that?" Mark asked Josh.
"Let's be clear on something here, Mark," Donna leaned forward slightly, surprising him by taking the question. "HPV is a necessary factor in nearly all cases of cervical cancer. In other words, if you don't have HPV, you aren't going to get cervical cancer. A vaccine for the underlying cause of a cancer has been developed. Why is this even a discussion?"
"There are people out there who say vaccinating young girls against an STD is giving them a license to have sex outside of marriage," Mark threw the standard contrary talking point out.
"Sex education starts in the home with the parents. If you don't want your child having sex before marriage, you need to be educating and communicating with your child effectively to make sure they remain abstinent. And just because they're abstinent doesn't mean their eventual partner will have been. Young women should have the ability to protect themselves from a common virus that causes cancer, even after marriage," Donna concluded. "They shouldn't be given a possible death sentence because of someone else's indiscretions."
"Fair enough," Mark smiled. He was absolutely giddy with anticipation. He had bided his time through the entire show for this brief conversation they were about to have. "Before we started the show, you both agreed that I would be allowed the chance to do something no other reporter has had an opportunity to do and that is to ask you two about your relationship. This thing has exploded since the inauguration. Is this the reaction you expected?"
Josh took a deep breath and glanced at Donna who gave him an encouraging smile. "No, Mark, it's not the reaction we expected at all, because we never expected to be the object of this kind of media frenzy. Donna and I are private citizens. We have never sought publicity for ourselves. Even after the events so gloriously detailed in Ms. Washington's article, neither Donna nor I did interviews or wrote books or sold our stories to Hollywood. Our lives aren't a reality show that the media has some God given right to pry into and devour and spit out when it's done. The only times you've ever seen us on television have been in the furtherance of our professional causes. In over 20 years of public service, I can say this is the first time I have ever spoken about my personal life in a public forum and I can tell you it will be the last."
"Donna, anything to add?"
"Only that I would think the media would have more important issues to devote air time and column inches to than to Josh and I. Perhaps to issues such as education reform and the HPV vaccine, welfare reform and local issues that are the most important to individual communities," Donna said.
"Okay, that's all the time we have for tonight. I'm Mark Gottfried. Our guests have been Josh Lyman and Donna Moss. Thank you both for your time. Thank you for watching Capital Beat."
"And we're clear," called the floor director.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. JOSH'S CAR, 10 MINUTES LATER
"I hate TV make-up," Donna griped, collapsing into the backseat of the Town Car the Secret Service provided Josh. "It makes me look orange."
"Excellent answer on the HPV question. You knocked it out of the ballpark." Josh draped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek.
"Thank you. The same to you. I thought Mark was going to reach over the table and strangle you for that answer though. Do you think it'll work?"
"We'll find out." Josh leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.
"What if it doesn't?" Donna asked seriously.
"We get used to having our pictures taken and saying no comment. Something will blow up eventually and knock us out of the news."
"Pessimist," Donna teased. She rested her head against his shoulder and took his hand, caressing it with her thumb. "We need to talk about something."
"What's up?" Josh leaned his cheek against the top of her head comfortably.
"I heard what you were saying last night about living arrangements and you've got a point," Donna said. "It's hard enough figuring out where my dry cleaning is, let alone where I've got clean pantyhose. And I was talking to Annabeth about it and she knows someone who needs to sublet a place for a few months."
Josh couldn't help the smile that was spreading across his face. "Are you thinking about getting in touch of this friend of Annabeth's?"
"I might, if I had another place to live," Donna said coyly.
"You know, I think we've reached the point in our relationship where it'd work if we lived together. What do you think?" Josh pulled away so he could look her in the eyes.
"I think we're there," Donna agreed.
"Then what do you say you move in with me?" Josh suggested. "I've got plenty of closet and bathroom space."
Donna smiled at him. "I think that's a great idea."
"As long as we agree on one thing."
"What's that?" Donna asked.
"This is a permanent thing," Josh said earnestly. "Agreed?"
"Agreed." Donna nodded, sealing the deal with a kiss.