ACT II
INT. CHIEF OF STAFF OUTER OFFICE, 8:55 AM

"It looks like vandals broke in and ransacked the room," Margaret said into the receiver. She was looking unusually small as she sat in her desk chair, surrounded by boxes and impossibly high stacks of paper.

CUT TO: INT. FLOTUS CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"I find that unlikely." Donna leaned back in her chair and swung back and forth a little. "We have pretty good security here."

CUT TO: INT. OUTER CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"Do you have any idea how perfectly organized this place was when I left it? You worked for him all those years, how did he manage to *do* this in three weeks?"

"I've seen him do considerably worse with a lot less time, believe me. Are you glad to be back?"

"No." Margaret looked down at the box in her hands. There were much bigger boxes in the room that she would have to deal with today, but this one was the most daunting.

"Is he being `him' already?" Donna's voice came over the receiver.

"It's nothing like that. I just have a feeling this is going to be a trying day. Actually, I haven't seen him yet. Is it possible he had a meeting first thing?"

CUT TO: INT. FLOTUS CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

From her seated position, Donna craned her neck to get a good look at the sunflower arrangement that towered above her. "I'm pretty sure he's in the building."

"I called Jack's day care center, and they were expecting me. Your doing?"

"My suggestion," Donna lazily scrolled through the day on her PDA. "To make things a little easier on you. I didn't pull any strings. Hey, do you want to have lunch?"

CUT TO: INT. OUTER CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"You get a lunch now? Climbing the ladder has its benefits." Margaret nearly knocked over one of the paper piles when Josh came barreling through the door, startling her. "I have to go." She hung up the phone and rounded the desk to follow Josh, only to realize she was still carrying the box she'd been holding while talking to Donna. She tossed it back toward her desk, but didn't have time to wait and see that it landed in a suitable place. Josh was already off to the races.

INT. CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"It's the White House Situation Room, and we're all grown men, I don't know why I'm always made to feel like I'm seven seconds from getting my ass kicked because I'm not one of the world's foremost experts on modern warfare." He turned to find Margaret standing frozen, just inside his office door. "I'm sorry. Hi. I'm glad you're here."

Margaret nodded stiffly.

"You have any trouble getting the kid back on at his old day care?"

"Oddly, no. They had an opening in his class just this morning."

"Imagine that," Josh smirked.

"Thank you, but you shouldn't do that kind of thing."

Josh blinked, then opened the top folder in his inbox. "I don't know
what you mean."

"Yeah." She took another look around the room and swallowed hard. "You changed it."

"What?"

Margaret gestured toward the desk, then the sitting area. "CJ had it…"

"Oh. Yeah, I hated that setup, made no sense. I just told them to put everything back the way Leo had it."

"That they did," Margaret said. "Right down to the last stick of furniture. Right down to the paint."

"Yeah, the other way just didn't…feel right. But CJ has left her mark. On occasion, I still catch a whiff of something that smells suspiciously like potpourri. If you know where she's hidden that, get rid of it. Other than that, um…my desk is somewhere under all this mess. My inbox, which was just cleaned out last night, is full again. As you've seen, your office is a federal disaster area. You know where everything goes, so…have at it." He looked at his watch. "I've got senior staff."

"I can't find your schedule. Where were the temps --"

He pulled his Blackberry out of his pocket. "They weren't. It's all on there." He plopped the device into her hand and spun around in a circle. "Have you seen an accordion file--"

"Are you serious?!"

"An obsessively organized one?"

"Oh. On my desk."

"See? Useful already. Just as I predicted." He headed for the door.

"Yeah, you're a regular clairvoyant."

Josh scooped up the file and hustled back through his office toward the Oval.

"Oh, I have reservations at Kinkead's tonight. I need you to call and confirm for me. Just do your thing. Shout if you need anything. You'll be great."

The door closed, and Margaret took another look around the eerily familiar room, unsure whether it was greatly comforting or deeply unsettling.

CUT TO: INT. OVAL OFFICE

"So you're telling me not to worry," Josh heard Santos ask as he opened the door.

"We always see a spike in threats anytime the military's been mobilized," Ron Butterfield answered. "We investigate every threat, and if we find who made it, they've got to answer for it. But there's a difference between threats and credible threats."

"There is?"

"Credible threats are the guys who actually want to kill you. The other threats are just the people who don't like you and are a little too eager to express themselves," Josh said as he approached the desk.

"What did I ever do to them?" Santos shrugged.

"You got elected." Josh shifted his files under his arm. "Good morning, Mr. President."

"Did you know we see a spike in threats when the military's mobilized?"

"Yeah, it's the peace crazies," Josh said.

"People who love peace are gonna try to kill me?"

Josh looked at Ron. "Are the credibles spiking?"

Ron shook his head. "Unsubstantiated, mostly."

"So, no, sir, they're not gonna try to kill you, they're just gonna try to scare you. But you shouldn't let them, because they're all talk. Never back down from a bully."

Santos chortled. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Josh said over Santos' shake of the head. "While you're here, I've got a thing."

"Josh, the agent walks in front of you in a crowded place. How else is he supposed to do his job?"

"What, did he run straight to you?" Josh objected.

"The procedures are in place for a legitimate reason--"

"Whatever. I just wanted to tell you I'm waiving my right to a detail."

Santos nearly choked on his coffee. "What the hell? We can do that? `Cause as long as these threats aren't credible, then--"

"Good morning, Mr. President." Sam entered from the Outer Oval. "Somebody threatening you, sir?"

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna back down, see, because they're all talk."

"Good for you, sir," Sam came to stand beside Josh. "If you stand up for yourself, you'll gain their respect."

"I think the two of you are working from the same book of lame one-liners." Santos gestured between Josh and Sam.

"You've got to have your detail, sir," Josh said, then turned back to Ron. "But putting a four-person detail on me is an unnecessary waste of resources. I know there's paperwork I've got to sign, so go
ahead and pull it together."

"You don't have a four-person detail. You have a one-person detail with three shifts and an alternate, which is one less than I'd prefer to have on you at a time, but I'm trying to be accommodating," Ron said. "Secondly--"

"The only way to make them accommodating is to make them go away."Josh put his hands on his hips.

"Secondly, there are certain requirements for the Chief of Staff that--"

"Which I am hereby absolving you of," Josh said. "Draw up the paperwork."

Ron and Josh stared at each other for two beats before Ron dipped his chin and stepped toward the door. "We'll work on it. Thank you, Mr. President."

"You're ditching your detail?" Sam asked softly as Lou, Otto, and Lester filed in.

"Yeah, I've had it."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Let me tell you what's not wise: attracting attention by walking around town with an armed guard. I stop to pick up coffee filters, and he's got to walk five feet ahead of me and clear the aisle. I gave it time, but now I'm done. Nobody cares about me, anyway."

The President clapped him on the shoulder as the staff took their seats. "You shouldn't talk like that Josh, we all care."

"I appreciate that, sir." Josh opened his folio. "So…our luck's still holding in Kazakhstan. No further bad news on the troops since the Kiowa."

"I thought we'd had some injuries since last night." Sam pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

"We did. No fatalities, though."

"Tell me it wasn't another chopper," Lou said.

"Roadside bomb got a tank." Josh stared at nothing for a moment while he scratched at his temple. "Our guys will all pull through, though. At least that's what they think right now."

"OK, so, we just do basics in the press room and refer them to DoD for more details," Lou looked at Lester.

"Do we have to leave it to DoD?" Lester asked. "If we've got dibs, I'd love any opportunity to shift the backward focus I've got in the room right now."

"It's more appropriate to let DoD have it," Sam said.

"How're you doing on Baker?" Santos asked.

"We're getting there," Sam said, eyes suddenly fixed on his notepad.

"How was your breakfast with Brownleigh?" Josh asked.

"It was fine." Eyes still glued to his own handwriting.

Josh shook his head. "What, Sam?"

He looked up, then around the room. "Brownleigh's hearing rumblings. Dissatisfaction with Baker as the nominee."

Josh furrowed his brow. "That's nothing new."

"From the yellow dogs."

The room erupted into exclamations of frustration and disbelief.

Santos leaned forward in his chair. "So the blue dogs don't like him, the moderates have issues, the Republicans SURE don't like him, and now the yellow dogs want to get in on the action?"

"Clearly, we have a few obstacles in our path at the moment, sir. But I'm just getting started on the Hill."

"What is going *on* up there?" Josh muttered to himself. "Do you know what's turning them?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "I'll get into it."

"Yeah, me, too." Sam looked up, somewhat startled, but Josh didn't notice as he barreled right ahead. "Communications."

"We seem to be having a little trouble focusing the press," Lou reported.

"They seem plenty focused to me, just not on what we want," Lester said.

"We've got to expect Kazakhstan's gonna be at the top of their list of interests, but I want education to be number two, even if it's only a distant number two for now," Santos said.

"Unfortunately, at the moment, it's a distant third," Lou said, eyeing Josh carefully. "We're losing coverage to the magazine incident."

Josh stared her down, face tight. "We're not still talking about this."

"Well, yeah." Lou looked skyward in exasperation. "As long as they're still talking about it out there, we'll still be talking about it in here."

"It gets brought up eventually in every gaggle," Lester said. "We need to put this thing to bed. We're losing news cycle after news cycle to this."

"WHY?!" Josh spread his hands. "It's the White House Press Corps, not Entertainment Tonight."

"People are curious, Josh," Lou said. "The corps is less than thrilled to have to do this, but if one outlet is covering it, they've all got to cover it to compete."

"A problem we would not have right now if our new press secretary hadn't set a reporter loose among the senior staff on his *first day on the job*."

"I didn't *know* she was--" Lester started, then thought better of it. "Yes, sir."

"Anyway," Lou broke the silence after a moment. "We wanna move them off this."

"Yeah, me, too," Josh pouted.

"We did a little brainstorming…" Otto started.

"And we've come up with a plan we think will drive a stake through the heart of the beast," Lester finished.

"Yeah?"

"We think you should do an interview. Both of you. Together," Lou said.

"Under no circumstances whatsoever."

"Do you mind if I ask why NOT?"

"Because the White House does not comment on the personal lives of its staff, that's why not."

"We've been trying that strategy for two weeks, Josh, it's not working." Lou ran a hand through her hair. "Look, it's mostly harmless, if a little uncomfortable. There's no Second Couple, so the two of you sorta naturally rose to the forefront. You've got this his-and-hers chiefs of staff thing, which is so cute I could puke. Plus you've got history. People are curious."

"Just because they're curious doesn't give them the right to know. Our history is *our* history. Change the story."

"That's what we're trying to do! Do an interview, suffer for an hour or two, grin stupidly at each other, and this monkey's off our backs. Keep quiet, and this monster will feed itself on rampant speculation, growing from nothing to tawdry to full-out scandal where none existed, and it could follow us through the first 100 days and beyond."

"*I'm* not gonna let it do that," Santos spoke up, startling his staff, who had become so engrossed in the conversation they forgot themselves for a moment. "I want the education initiative and Baker's impending confirmation--a confirmation we will make sure sails--to become the secondary focus for the media after Kazakhstan, and I want Josh's love life moved off the radar, pronto. I don't care how we do it--if you don't like the interview, come up with something else. But let's dispense of it…quickly."

Josh's gaze fell to the carpet. "Yes, sir."

"Anything else?"

They all answered with a shake of the head.

"Thank you, everybody." Santos stood, and the staff filed out, reassembling on the other side of the closed door.

INT. OUTER OVAL

"Interview's the fastest way to get this done, Josh," Lou said.

"You mean it's the easiest way for you," Josh muttered. "There are other ways to change the story. Sam's gonna work with you. Have alternatives ready for me by the end of the day."

Sam's eyes went wide as he watched Josh's retreating back. "Why don't you brainstorm a couple more options, and I'll take a look at them later," he told Lou before following Josh.

INT. HALLWAY

"Hey," Sam jogged up beside him and lowered his voice. "I know you're not happy about this, but I think she's right."

"There are other ways to do this," Josh sighed, looking back toward the Outer Oval. "I think this Comm staff is just too green. I want you to give them a little guidance."

"I don't really think they need it," Sam said. "I support their plan."

Josh stopped short. "You want Donna and me to do a stupid Barbara Walters--"

"Absolutely not. It should be somebody from the corps. There's another story brewing, Josh, beneath the `aren't they cute' angle. She worked for you, not so very long ago. She *worked* for you. And she did it here. And now you're both back here, and the press is beginning to ask questions about when this started, and what else has happened. What sort of illicit things were the two of you up to on this sacred ground?"

"You know damn well--"

"It's their job, Josh. Those questions aren't entirely without merit. And they're coming; they're already ramping up to them. Lester's getting pummeled in the room."

"Aren't you the guy who thought it was a travesty that you couldn't be friends with a hooker because of press backlash?"

"Call girl."

Josh exhaled, closing his eyes. "Donna's stuck on it. She's absolutely fixated on what everyone's saying. I wanted a little more… We just wanted a little more time before this became public."

Sam nodded. "But it has. People want to know what's going on, Josh. You should tell them. Because in the absence of an answer from you and Donna, people will listen to whoever's doing the talking, credible or not, accurate or not. Talk to Donna about it. See what she says."

Josh started walking again. "I haven't gotten her a Valentine's Day gift yet."

"You're coming down to the wire."

"I know, I just…she's doing this thing where she's insistent that I not make a big deal out of it, so I didn't, but then the flower guy this morning said that maybe she was just saying that but didn't mean it."

"I think the flower guy oughta be the one making the big bucks."

"What did you get Laurie?"

Sam took him by the arm and pushed him into a corner. "LaurEN!" he whispered harshly. LaurEN! Laurie was the hook--call girl."

Josh's eyes went wide. "Oh, man, what are the odds of that?"

"I need you to never make that slip in front of her."

"If I ever actually met her, I'm sure…well, now I'm sure I'll end up doing it. Self-fulfilling prophecy. What did you get her?"

Sam started down the hall again. "Something in a Tiffany's box. It worked when I proposed."

Josh leaned his head to the side. "There's an idea. I haven't really given her a…there really hasn't been a major gift-giving occasion yet. I mean, Christmas, and Hanukah, but we always did that. We just sorta went a little bigger this year."

"Then you probably ought to make sure you don't blow this one. No pressure."

"No kidding. Hey, I put a meeting on your schedule. We're being named in a nuisance lawsuit, something coming out of the Pacific Northwest."

"What is it?"

"I don't know, really, something about a chemical munitions depot and possible groundwater contamination. EPA guidelines may or may not have been followed as closely as they should have by the Army. There's an initial meeting with opposing counsel today, you'll get the background documents then. Get into it, then let me know what's going on."

"I was gonna be back up on the Hill this afternoon."

"This is just something to do in your spare time," Josh deadpanned.

"Okay…Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"This is…I mean, of course, whatever you need…I mean, I'm more than happy to help in any way I can. You seemed less than pleased with my handling of things on the Hill, is all. And you wanted me in on press strategy, and now you've got me pinch hitting for White House counsel, and I just…"

"I know, I've got you all over the place. But I just…right now, while we're starting up, I need somebody I trust doing the important things."

"They're all important things."

"Just for right now. Oh," he hoisted the accordion file he'd been lugging up a little higher. This needs to be farmed out. Your office, communications, legislative liaison."

Sam studied the file tabs. "Didn't you used to do this for Leo when you were Deputy? Why didn't you--"

"Hey, I'm sorry about the Hill thing, I just…I'm sorta used to that being my domain, is all."

Sam looked up from the file. "I'll figure out what's happening up there, OK?"

Josh nodded. "OK. I've gotta talk to Donna."

"You should."

"I am."

"And you should go to Tiffany's."

"I think you're right," Josh disappeared through the double doors.

"I'm always right," Sam said to himself.

INT. OFFICE OF THE FIRST LADY, RECEPTION AREA

"Well if it isn't the Sunflower King," Annabeth teased when Josh popped through the door.

Josh beamed. "Well, word travels fast."

"You can see them from Pennsylvania Avenue, word didn't have to travel. What brings you to the east side of the building?"

"I came to see the boss, could you…" Josh turned toward Donna's assistant, who buzzed Donna's office.

"You can go on in," Donna's assistant said as she hung up the phone.

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

"Bye," Annabeth called as he disappeared behind Donna's closed door. "Sunflowers." She laid a hand over her heart. "So original. So sweet." She turned to Donna's assistant. "You know, some of them cost more than even roses do this time of year."


INT. FLOTUS CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

Despite the fact that she'd told herself she wasn't going to do it anymore, Donna had been staring at a two-week-old edition of People. The photo was grainy for a magazine, but clear enough to see all the necessary details. There she was in her shimmery dress, kissing her boyfriend while she'd thought they were completely out of sight. The headline, "Joint Chiefs," had been too cutesy for her taste, and she hated the fact this was out there for public consumption, especially the accompanying text that touched on their respective close calls during the Bartlet years and her "skyrocketing" career. But the picture…she couldn't stop staring at herself, being kissed by the man who was finally free to kiss her. Some kind of strange voyeurism. Freud would have a field day.

She shoved the magazine in her top desk drawer when the door opened.

"Hello, my little sunflower."

"Veto," she said immediately. "Well, if it isn't the boy with no long-term memory."

Josh stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"What part of `don't make a big deal out of it' did you have difficulty with?"

Josh's eyes grew wide, then darted around the room. "I thought you were just…saying that."

"I think you'll find, Josh, that things will be much easier for you when you don't think and simply listen."

"It's not a big deal; I didn't make a big deal," he backpedaled. "They're just flowers."

"They toppled the first vase I put them in."

"I don't know what that means."

"That they're GINORMOUS, and you don't get to use the word `just' in front of them."

"Did you actually just say *ginormous*?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Annabeth thought I did well."

Donna's face dropped a little, and she looked suddenly pained. "Annabeth's kinda having a hard time today. She doesn't have… since…there's nobody to send her…" She leaned forward suddenly and planted a chaste kiss on his lips before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you for my flowers."

"What's eating you today?" he said into her hair.

"I met with the First Lady for a little while this morning," Donna said, taking a step back. "It…did not go like I'd hoped."

"Agenda?"

"I was hoping we could brainstorm a few things." Donna stepped around the desk and dropped into her chair dejectedly. "But what ended up happening was I suggested things, hoping she'd springboard
off of it, and she didn't so much springboard off as she did…shrug her shoulders and say noncommittally that each one of those ideas `might be nice'."

"That's what you call talking to her?"

"I tried!"

"The hell you did. You dangled your feet over the side. Donna, she doesn't know what `pick an agenda' means. You say that, and then you throw out topics, but she doesn't know what she's gonna have to do with them. Speeches, charity work, coordinate with the President's legislative agenda…Abbey Bartlet was a force of nature. She could have BEEN President if we'd let her. Helen Santos, while formidable in her own way, is a different creature."

"She seems ill at ease defining herself…"

"Hell, I'd be ill at ease doing that, too! When did you start with the big and lofty? You've got to break this down for her. `Mrs. Santos, if we choose to work for better public education, it's going to mean meeting with these people, it's going to mean working with the President's staff on such and such, it's going to mean speaking at events for groups like so-and-so. If we choose to work internationally to encourage more women in third world countries to seek prenatal care, it's going to mean we need to do x and y and z.' Break it down for her. Do index cards."

"Index cards?"

"Try feeding it to her in bite-sized pieces. It always worked for me."

She smiled. "I sorta thought you were humoring me part of the time."

He shook his head. "You have a talent for seeing straight to the heart of complex issues. This is a chance, Donna, to define *your*self professionally if you want to. She'll listen to you; advocate for your favorite issues. Don't overwhelm her when it's so easily within your reach to empower her."

"Empower her," Donna breathed. "*My* issues."

"Get a new plan, and get back in there. Otherwise, you've got a long few years ahead of you, sitting in this ginormous office with this big empty desk, staring at your sunflowers."

Donna bit her lip for a moment before finally rewarding him with a smile. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing."

Donna shook her head, knowing better.

"Lou and Lester think maybe we ought to do an interview together."

Donna exhaled. "I was afraid this was coming."

"Sam agrees."

Donna nodded. "He should. It's exactly the right strategy. This thing is building to a fevered pitch. If we don't do something, it's gonna go from an innocent kiss at the inaugural balls to you were taking me up against a bulkhead on Air Force One years ago."

Josh swallowed hard. "Well, there's an image that's gonna haunt me the next time I get on that plane."

Donna stared at him intently. "I don't want you scandalized."

"I don't want *you* scandalized."

"What you do reflects on the President."

"So he reminded me. But you, too, though."

She hung her head, staring at her pristine desk. "They're gonna want to take it from the beginning. We'd have to relive all of it. From the first campaign to your reasons for bringing me on staff at the
White House to…God, to Rosslyn." Her voice trembled. "To the MS, to re-election, all the way to the CoDel. And then…"

"The things we said we'd never discuss again. The things we said were behind us after the trip."

"And we get to go through it again in front of the whole world. Those of them who care."

"You knew this was coming?"

Donna shrugged. "It's what I'd recommend if I were in Lou's place and we were talking about two other overgrown teenagers who made out 10 feet from a rock star while he was on stage performing to a full ballroom."

"Some people are so stupid."

Donna smiled, then became thoughtful again. "I suppose we could lay down some ground rules. You can ask this, but that topic is off-limits. We'd have to pick our battles, but…"

"Yeah," Josh ran a hand through his hair. "Let's not decide today, ahkay? I mean soon, but…not today."

"Do you wanna have lunch?"

"You get a lunch now?"

"Will you let Margaret go long enough to have lunch with me?"

"I think you've been idle so long you've lost your mind."

"Well, I ran out of things to decide about table linens, and I kind of unspooled from there."

"Go talk to your boss," he threw over his shoulder. "Get a new plan, and go talk to your boss."

"Where are you going?"

"I have lives to change. But I'll be done in time for a little late dinner."

Donna arched an eyebrow at him. "I thought you canceled the reservations."

Uh-oh. "I did. But we can, I don't know, we'll do something low-key. Order take-out or something."

Donna gave him a sad little look. "See ya."

"Do some work, will ya?" He grinned before pulling the door closed behind him.

Donna looked around the empty room. "*My* issues."

INT. COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR'S OFFICE

"Special delivery," Sam popped his head in the door.

Lou looked up. "Come to guide me out of my wilderness of confusion?"

"He's wound a little tight right now. You were right, and I told him so. Give him a day to mull it over, talk to Donna."

"You know, all this might have been avoided if either one of them had simply given us a little heads-up that this was happening." Sam gave her a look that told her she'd strayed dangerously close to the line. "Sorry."

"This is for your office," Sam said, holding out the now nearly empty accordion file. "Stuff that came straight to Josh's but didn't merit him getting involved."

"Low priority?" Lou took the file from him.

"Yeah. I'm going back up to the Hill for a while," he started out the door. "Nice flowers."

Lou glared at the vase on her desk. "Thanks."

She stood and carried the file next door. She'd put this off long enough.


INT. DEPUTY COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR'S OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

Otto looked up as he heard the door close.

"OK. We need to talk about the flowers."

"What flowers?"

"The flowers you sent with your little unsigned note."

Otto quirked a corner of his mouth at her. "Who says I--"

"It's over, OK? It has to be. You work for me now. Not like on the campaign, I mean you *work*…you're my deputy, for God's sake."

"They're just flowers, Lou, they're not--"

"And who the hell sends an unsigned note? Bombers leave unsigned notes. And serial killers. And have you not been paying attention to what's been going on these past couple weeks since the magazine? If there was ever a cautionary tale--"

"I'm sorry," Otto said instantly.

"Nothing can happen," Lou said.

"I know."

"I mean, thank you, but--"

"I know."

Lou shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, staring at the carpet. "So I guess this means you don't have any plans for--"

"Nothing can happen," Otto repeated.

Lou held out the accordion file. "You need to go through this, prioritize it, farm out the small fries, tell me how you're dealing with the larger fries."

"You got it, boss."

Lou paused with her hand on the doorknob. "And you're never gonna say *that* again."

CUT TO: INT. COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR'S OFFICE, 45 MINS. LATER

"Okay," Otto flew in the door, closing it behind him. "Okay, can I just say something, before we get all…into this?"

Lou knit her brows together. "Yeah…"

"You were always saying that I was young. And I was. I am. I *know* I am. But I'm not THAT young, Lou. I'm not. I knew the risks we were taking, and I took them anyway. Whatever you want to do, whatever you need…I'm here for you. Completely here for you, okay? I just wanted to say that before we got all into it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Otto pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket. "I'm assuming, since it's unopened, that you don't know anything yet."

Lou scooted her chair back several inches. "What…WHAT is that?!?"

"An early pregnancy test. I know because it says early pregnancy test on the box. Also because I'm not THAT young."

"What the hell is that FOR?!?"

"You. Us. I mean, did you want me to be there when…"

"Otto, have you hit your head in the last half hour? Where did you GET that?"

"Right where you put it."

Lou stared at him. "Which was where?"

Otto shook his head. "Are you telling me that you didn't leave this in the file that--"

"This was in that file?"

"This was not from you?!?" Otto fairly shrieked.

"No!" Lou smiled genuinely.

"Are you saying you're not…that you don't think you're--"

"I'm absolutely positive that I'm not." She couldn't help herself. He was so damn cute.

"Oh, my God." Otto collapsed onto the couch. "Oh, my God, I can't believe it. I couldn't feel my feet, I swear to God."

"This was in the accordion file I just gave you?"

Otto nodded while scrubbing his face with his hands. "The one with the fries of varying sizes in it. Wait a minute, where did that come from if not--"

"It was…it was given to me by someone else, it was…oh, God. There must have been a…I think there might have been a little switcheroo."

Otto sobered for a moment, then laughed. "I should care, but all I know right now is, that's someone else's bad day."

"You're a real humanitarian, you know that?."

"What do you think we should do?"

"Don't worry about it. It came to me…I'm not exactly sure what I'm gonna do, but it came to me, I'll take care of it."

"It's just that it's been about three months, I mean the timing is just right for--"

"Yeah. Don't you have speeches to write?"

"Don't have to tell me twice." Otto blazed a trail out of the office as quickly as he'd blazed one in.

Lou picked the test up and turned it over in her hands. "You, my friend, are about to ruin someone's Valentine's Day."

CUT TO: INT. DCoS OFFICE, 30 MINS. LATER

"You need me?" Sam barreled though the door full speed ahead.

Lou, who'd wandered behind the desk, jumped. "I thought you were going up to the Hill."

"Morning session is running long. I've got a meeting at 1, then I'll head back up. What do you need?"

"Nothing." Lou clasped her hands behind her back.

Sam furrowed his brow. "Then what are you doing in my office alone?"

"I was…I thought I'd leave you a note, but now you're here."

"Okay…so again we come back to what you needed."

Say anything, Lou thought. Anything at all. Doesn't have to be a good something, just…anything. "Nothing."

"Lou, what the hell--"

"Okay," she closed one door, then the other. "Listen, this is awkward for me, since I have like, zero people skills, but…I was trying to put this back where it came from. I think you accidentally
handed it off to me this morning." She laid the test on the desk in front of him.

"That's a pregnancy test."

"Yes."

"That's not mine."

Lou shot him a sympathetic look. "Don't be so sure."

Sam rubbed his forehead. "I don't understand what the hell is happening right now."

"Did you maybe take some files home last night to work on them?"

"Yeah…"

"And you put those files in your briefcase to bring them back this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think this may have gotten mixed up in the…I mean, I have no prior knowledge whatsoever, but this was in some of the files you brought over today, and I think it must have gotten mixed up in
there somehow."

"Lou, I have never seen that before in my life."

"Uh-huh." Lou stared at the desk awkwardly. "How's your fiancée?"

Sam's eyes grew to be the size of dinner plates. "This was in my briefcase?"

"I assume. It was certainly in your files."

Sam stared at the box in growing horror. "This was in my briefcase?" he squeaked.

"I'm sorry, I…I think I'm gonna go now." She began to back out the door. "Listen, don't worry about me, OK? I've already forgotten it."

Sam's knees buckled and he dropped into his chair. "But she knows I hate it when she goes in my briefcase," he whispered to himself.

FADE TO BLACK