Chapter Text
Josh Lyman is not having a great day.
There’s an oil tanker refusing to surrender to the Navy, a lame duck Congress that’s somehow still fucking them up, and a Republican in his office arguing with him about same-sex marriage. And he’s been at work for - he checks his watch - fourteen hours.
“Come on. Why are you even in your party?” he asks, frustrated. “How can you stand to be in a party that calls people like you an abomination!”
Congressman Skinner responds with some metaphor about the NRA and gun control. Then they start arguing about the difference between a social agenda and allowing freedom of choice.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “If you don’t like same-sex marriage, don’t get married to someone of the same sex!”
“It’s not that simple,” says Skinner.
“It’s exactly that simple!” Josh says, louder than he’d intended to.
“Is everything okay?” Donna calls from the outer office, sounding slightly petulant. She’s probably annoyed that Josh cut her date off. At this point, Josh doesn’t really care.
“We’re fine, Donna,” Josh says, collapsing back into his chair. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, Josh,” she says. Josh can actually hear her eyes rolling.
“You say you believe in individual freedoms. Why don’t you let people individually choose whether or not they want to get married to someone of the same sex?” Josh says.
“That’s not the point. The Founders intended the country to be based on a Judeo-Christian morality.”
“Seems to me they were pretty clear that they didn’t want Judeo-Christian morality anywhere near the country’s laws, Congressman.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“I think we’re done here,” Skinner says softly. “We both know what has to happen. Either the President signs the bill, or he vetoes it and Congress overrides the veto.”
Josh hesitates, then nods. “Thank you for coming by.” The words are automatic, meaningless. The congressman leaves.
He looks at the clock. It’s late, nearly the time when he’ll have to call Air Force One with his recommendation of what to do about the bill. He’s wasted over two hours with Skinner.
“Josh? Are you okay?” Donna asks, sticking her head in the door.
“I’m fine, Donna,” he says. “I’ll find a way out. He won’t have to pass the bill.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything,” she says.
“I’m going for a walk,” Josh says, standing up and nearly tripping over his feet as he leaves his office.
“You need to call him soon, Josh.”
“I know, Donna!”
She’s silent.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap,” Josh says after a moment. “I...I know. I’ll call him.” Donna nods and Josh walks out of the room.
He wanders down hallways, turning at random, scouring his brain for an idea - any idea - nothing was too far-fetched, nothing was too stupid.
If we veto it now, we’ll just have to deal with it again in a couple months. Congress will have been sworn in, but it’s the same balance. Maybe some of the freshmen can be convinced to vote our way…but right now a majority of the country wants the bill. They’re wrong, but how can we convince a freshman senator to vote against their constituents?
And then the answer comes to Josh, blindingly obvious and the best thought he’s had all day: We change the constituents’ minds.
“We run a PR campaign,” he says aloud. The words echo in the empty stairwell. “We…we run a PR campaign, we gain local support. It’d have to be both grassroots and top-down, or it would never work. God, do we even have time for this? We have to have time. We’ll make time.”
“Time for what?”
Okay, so maybe the stairwell wasn’t empty. Josh turns around. There’s a man standing there, fairly young - in his late twenties, maybe. He seems familiar, but Josh doesn’t really recognize him.
“Never mind. Uh, who are you?” Josh asks.
“Mark. I work for Sam Seaborn. You’re Josh Lyman.”
“Yes,” Josh agrees, trying to remember if he’s ever seen Mark near Sam’s office. “Good to meet you, Mark.”
“You too. What are you working on at this time of the night?” Mark asks.
“A bill. Needs to be done by midnight,” Josh mutters, checking his watch. It’s half past eleven already.
“The Marriage Recognition Act?” Mark says. “Yeah, I heard about that. Shame, I suppose.”
“It’s not a shame. He won’t pass it,” Josh says. “It’ll take work, but we can stop Congress from overriding the veto.”
“Why put that much effort in for such a small issue? That’s hardly going to win votes in a couple years.”
“Because it’s important. And it’s the right thing to do,” Josh says, starting to dislike Mark. “And it shows we won’t let Congress shove us around.”
“The majority of the people want this bill. Congress is right,” Mark says.
“It’s really not, and there’s a reason the majority of the people aren’t allowed to make the government’s decisions on their own.”
“The will of the people, Josh. It doesn’t matter what the White House thinks. The will of the people is the most important thing.”
Josh takes a breath, lets it out. It does nothing to ease the tension in his chest. “It does matter what the White House thinks, because the people elected us of their own free will.”
“You got less than 50% of the popular vote. The majority of the people in this country didn’t vote for you, and now they want this bill passed. Time to pay up. Why do you even care? It’s not like queers have enough votes to matter,” Mark scoffs.
And before Josh can consider the consequence of his words, they’re out of his mouth: “Because I’m gay!”
Shit, he thinks.
Mark’s expression turns cold.
Being an adult, a law school graduate, and a responsible person who works with the President in the White House, Josh does the smart thing: he turns and runs.
Shit, fuck shit shit shit! Dammit! he thinks as he sprints through hallways at random. Stupid, dumbass, impulsive gonna lose my job the press will find out gonna lose everything -
Josh throws himself into a corner and sinks to the ground, doing his level best to become one with the wall.
Think, Lyman. Who the hell is Mark? He works for Sam, he can’t be that bad. But - his face - fuck!
When his breathing slows enough to be almost normal, he looks at his watch. It’s a quarter to midnight.
“Shit,” he says out loud. The word echoes across the room and slowly fades.
He stands up and sits in the nearest desk, picks up the phone and dials his own office number. It rings once, twice, and then Donna picks up.
“Hello?”
“Donna.”
“Josh, are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine,” Josh lies, suppressing the shake in his voice. “Can you patch me through to Air Force One?”
“Okay. We’re talking later,” she informs him, and switches him to hold.
A minute later, Josh listens to the phone ring again. This time, it’s picked up on the first ring.
“Air Force One telephone center.”
“It’s Josh Lyman. I need to speak to the President.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Lyman,” says the operator. “Just a moment.”
Tinny classical music plays. Bach, maybe. Josh was never great at classical music.
“Josh,” President Bartlet says.
“Mr. President,” Josh says reflexively. “How’s your flight?”
“It’s delightful. The skies are beautiful tonight,” he says. “There’s something special about late-night flights, you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How did the meeting go?”
Focus, Josh. You have a job to do. Something more important than your feelings. “Not well. I don’t think we have enough votes to stop them overriding a veto.”
President Bartlet sighs. “I was afraid of that. What are the options?”
“You could sign it or put in a drawer. Or you could veto and bring on the fight.”
“What do you think?”
This is why Josh respects the President, and also why he wants to stab his eyes out at the moment. Bartlet asks honest questions, and listens to the answers he gets.
“Sir, I…” Josh trails off, shaking his head. “If we put it off until the new Congress is confirmed, we might be able to scrape enough votes. But it would take a lot of work, and we’d need to turn public opinion.”
“You don’t sound very optimistic.”
“It hasn’t been a very optimistic evening, sir.” Josh rocks his chair back, nearly falling backwards before catching himself.
“Josh, are you alright?”
“Fine, sir.” He lowers the chair back down.
“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. What happened?”
“It’s nothing, sir. What do you want to do with the bill?”
“It’s not nothing if it’s shaken you this badly, Josh. We’ll be discussing this when I get back.”
God, please not this. Anything but this conversation. Not now. “Sir, you have more important things to do.”
“We’ll see about that. What do you think is the best course for the bill?”
That’s the really infuriating part. President Bartlet’s already made up his mind, most likely. He just wants to see if Josh has anything new to say.
Josh’s breath catches in his throat. “Sir, I believe you should veto the bill.” The words are bitter, tasting of his own fear. What if we lose? It’ll be even worse.
“It’ll be a long, hard fight,” President Bartlet warns. “I’m willing to fight it if you are.”
“I serve at the pleasure of the President,” Josh says automatically.
There’s no smile in President Bartlet’s voice, only the grit of someone about to start a war. “I’m vetoing the bill.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you, Josh. Have a good night.”
“You as well, sir.”
President Bartlet hangs up, leaving Josh back with the operator.
“Anything else for you tonight?”
Josh thinks about how angry CJ had been with Sam a few short months ago. “Can you put CJ Cregg on the line, please?” His voice only shakes a bit.
“Sure.”
More classical music plays. Different this time - Mozart, he thinks. The famous piece that pianists like.
“Josh.” CJ sounds tired.
“CJ. Are you alone?”
“Give me a minute.” Bless CJ and her tendency to not ask questions about requests like that. He hears a door shut through the phone. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“I may have done something really stupid.” Josh’s heartbeat is painfully fast, thumping in his chest and behind his eyes.
CJ sighs. “What?”
“CJ, I-” Josh starts. “I had that meeting tonight. And afterward I was wandering, trying to come up with ideas, talking out loud.”
“Okay, go on.”
“And somebody else was there. He claimed he worked for Sam. He started an argument with me.” That’s what it had been, really. Nobody just...went up to other people like that and disagreed out of nowhere unless they wanted a fight. Especially not that late at night in a nearly deserted building.
“He claimed to work for Sam?”
“I don’t know who he is. He said his name was Mark.”
“Mark what?” CJ asks.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll have it checked. What happened next?”
Josh’s throat is tight. It’s hard to breath, but it’s too late to take back what he’d yelled in the stairwell. “He asked me why I cared so much and then he said something that made me very angry.”
“Oh, God,” CJ mutters. “What did you say? Surely it can’t be worse than telling that senator to stick his legislative agenda up his ass.”
“I may have told him that I cared about the bill because-I’m-gay.” The last three words come out in a blur, too close together and slurred into each other.
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit,” CJ says. “There was turbulence.”
“I told him I cared because I’m gay,” Josh repeats, slower this time. “I said that very loudly. Shouted it, actually.”
“Oh, God,” CJ says again. Josh agrees, frankly. “Were there any press nearby?”
“Not that I saw, but we were in the stairwell. Sound carries in there, you know?”
“Yeah. We’ll need to find Mark and deal with this. The building is pretty quiet most Friday nights, and I have most of the press on the plane so hopefully it’ll be easy to clean up.”
Josh feels like CJ might have missed the point. “CJ?”
“Yes?”
“I am.”
“You are.”
“Yes.”
“You are what ?”
“I’m gay.”
“Oh. That’s different, then. Why didn’t I already know this?”
“CJ, I really don’t want to have this conversation right now. Or over the phone.” Or at all, Josh adds in his head. Of course, that’s not really an option anymore.
Why did he have to make such a stupid decision? Why couldn’t he have just left it?
“Okay. Don’t go looking for Mark. I’ll send you an email once I find out who he is. How did he react after you shouted?”
“He, uh, looked kind of. Cold. Like he was suddenly convinced that I was nothing. And then I ran away.”
“You ran away.”
“Yes.”
CJ snorts. “I’m sorry. I just - I can’t picture you running away from anything. No, I’m being horrible. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. Nothing about this is funny.”
“That’s okay. I’m going to go now.”
“Okay. Josh?”
“Yeah?” Josh says.
“It’ll be okay. If nobody else will, I’ll stand by you.”
“CJ…”
“I’m serious. If the President himself told me to throw you under the bus, I wouldn’t do it. Not for this,” CJ says.
“You’re sweet, CJ. I’m going to go throw up in a toilet now.”
“Okay. We’ll talk later.”
“Bye.”
CJ hangs up.
“Anything else for you, Mr. Lyman?” asks the operator.
“No, thanks. That’s it.”
“Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Josh hangs up the phone and stares at it for a few seconds. A moment later, he jumps up and bolts to the men’s room, making it to the toilet just in time to heave up the remains of his dinner.
He dry heaves twice more and then spits, flushing the toilet before standing at the sink. He rinses out his mouth and splashes water on his face.
His teeth are chattering, though it’s not cold. Damn anxiety. He thought he was over this, but apparently not.
“Get used to it,” he tells himself, not meeting his reflection’s eyes. “There’s a lot more of that coming in the next while.”
He dries off his face and walks upstairs, back to the bullpen.
Donna’s still there, though she looks half-asleep at her desk. She sits up when she sees Josh. “Josh? Have you been crying?”
“No.”
“Your face is all red.”
“I know,” he says, though he hadn’t.
“How’d the call go?” Donna asks.
“He’s going to veto it.”
“So that’s good news, then.” She sounds confused.
“Yeah. Good news.” Josh grabs his coat from his office and turns out the lights.
“Josh.”
“Donna.”
She’s standing in the doorway, blocking him from leaving . “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Fine. I’m leaving.” He moves to push past her.
“Josh!” She stands her ground. She’s surprisingly strong.
“Not now, Donna.”
“Come on, Josh. What happened?”
“I said not tonight, Donna.”
“When?”
“Not tonight.”
“That’s not an answer, Josh.”
Josh is tired. He’s so incredibly tired. All he wants to do is go home and sleep. “Donna…”
“Whatever it is, you can tell me about it.”
She’ll find out eventually. Probably soon. Better to tell her myself. “Fine. Shut the door.”
Donna shuts the door and turns the lights back on. She plops into Josh’s chair and looks at him expectantly.
“That’s my chair,” he says.
“I had it repaired for you.”
“So what?”
“So I wanted to sit in it for once. It’s like a chair timeshare.”
“Donna.”
“What? Timeshares are a legitimate form of ownership.”
Josh sits in one of the other chairs.
“So what’s going on?” Donna asks, serious now. “Was it the meeting with Skinner?”
“No. I mean, partly. I was walking and talking to myself and somebody started arguing with me.”
“In your head?”
“No! A real person. I don’t know why he was here so late.”
“We’re here this late,” Donna points out.
“I know. So he picked a fight with me and I got angry. And he asked me why I cared about the marriage bill, and I told him it was because I’m gay.”
“Oh. Is that it?” she asks.
“Donna!”
“Okay! Sorry. I’m sure CJ will clear it up soon enough.”
“Donna, I am gay.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” Josh says.
“Oh. That’s why you’re so upset?”
“I’m upset because I accidentally told a stranger, who’s probably called the press by now. And then that’ll blow up, and I’ll have to resign.”
“What? No, Josh! You can’t resign!” Donna says, eyes wide.
“What choice do I have, Donna? I’ll be an embarrassment to the White House.”
“You’re not an embarrassment. You’re a person. And you’re my boss. And it’s not fair,” she says, crossing her arms.
“Life’s not fair, Donna. Go home and get some sleep. It’ll be a long day tomorrow,” he says.
“Not until you go home too.”
“Fine.”
Josh grabs his coat and briefcase and they leave the building together. Donna’s still wearing her red dress, and she shivers in the cold as they step outside the building. Josh hands her his coat, and she slips it on with a murmured thanks.
They hail a taxi. Josh gives his address, and the car pulls away. He stares out the window as the city lights go by, letting them blur together.
“Josh…” Donna says.
“Not here, Donna. We’ll talk more tomorrow, when CJ gets back,” Josh says softly.
“Fine. But are you going to be okay tonight?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m probably going to fall asleep as soon as I get inside. I won’t do anything stupid.”
“Okay.”
They reach Josh’s apartment, and he leaves after paying the taxi driver. “Have a good night, Donna. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Josh,” she says. The taxi drives away. Josh climbs the three flights of stairs to his apartment and lets himself in.
The apartment he’s lived in for over a year now seems unfamiliar and menacing. Josh lays down on his bed, taking his shoes off but not bothering with anything else.
After a minute, he yanks at his tie and throws it to the ground. He lays awake, staring at the ceiling.
Eventually, he closes his eyes and falls asleep.
Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!
“Huh-” Josh sits up, disoriented. His alarm’s going off. He slaps at it until it turns off, and flops back down.
After a minute - no, can’t go back to sleep, have to go to work - he rolls out of bed and walks to the bathroom.
He brushes his teeth, showers, shaves, and combs his hair before he remembers what happened last night.
“Oh, fuck,” he says to his reflection. “You had to do that, didn’t you?”
His reflection doesn’t talk back, thankfully. Josh puts on his nicest suit - might as well look good on what could possibly be the worst day in his career and probably his life too - and forces himself to eat breakfast before heading downstairs.
He catches a taxi to the White House. It’s early, earlier than he normally gets there. He’d forgotten to change the alarm from yesterday’s early schedule.
He checks in, opens up his office, and boots his computer.
There’s an email in his inbox from CJ. It was sent at 2 am, EST time. That’s like...at least 4 am in Oregon, maybe 5. Did she sleep at all? he wonders.
Josh opens the email.
Josh,
There is nobody named Mark working in Sam’s department. AF1 arrives in DC at 6 pm EST. We will meet directly after that.
-CJ
Claudia Jean Cregg, Press Secretary for the Office of the President of the United States
Josh feels slightly ill. He lied. Of course he lied. Was he a reporter? A Republican?
He searches the web for his own name. Nothing out of the ordinary pops up, even on the gossip sites. Slightly mollified but no less apprehensive, he closes out of the program and gets to work designing a program to keep Congress from overriding the veto.
They can put pressure on as many congressmen as they please, but it won’t make a difference. Everything hinges on public opinion, which is finicky at best and downright vicious at worst.
He works through lunch, not bothering to stop and eat. Donna leaves a sandwich on his desk at around one. She’s been oddly quiet today.
“Donna!” he yells.
“Yes?” she says, appearing in the doorway.
“Why are you so quiet?”
“I thought you might like some quiet.”
“I don’t. Tell me a bad joke.”
Donna thinks for a second. “What’s black and red and black and red?”
“I don’t know, what?”
“A zebra with a sunburn,” Donna says.
“That’s not even funny.”
“You wanted a bad joke. I gave you a bad joke.”
“What else do I need to do today?” Josh asks.
She lists a few minor things - coordination, some sort of problem up on the Hill, and three memos to summarize into two pages.
He works on those for the afternoon, sending an aide to meet with some other aides for some uncooperative democrats.
Leo stops in that afternoon.
“Josh, how are you?”
“I’m fine, Leo. How are you?”
“Fine. What’s going on? I haven’t seen you all day, and you look half dead.”
“You’ll hear about it when everyone gets back.”
“Something happened.” It’s not a question.
“Yeah.”
“How bad?”
“I don’t know. CJ’ll be able to tell us once she gets the information she needs.”
“When do they land?”
“Six.”
Leo nods. “Okay. I’ll see you then. Did you take care of the memos?”
“I did. It’s three pages.” Josh hands the printout to Leo.
“Fine.” Leo leaves the office.
Six o’clock approaches with alarming speed. Josh eats his sandwich. It’s tasteless and soggy, probably because he left it out for so long.
At 5:56, Donna tells him that Air Force One landed ten minutes ahead of schedule.
A scant 15 minutes later, CJ appears in his office.
“Come on,” she says. “We’re meeting in my office.”
Josh and Donna follow CJ to her office. Leo, Toby, Sam, and Ainsley are already sitting there.
“Not her,” Josh says, looking at Ainsley.
“Josh,” CJ says. Ainsley looks a bit offended.
“Not yet, okay?”
“Fine. Ainsley, I’ll fill you in later.”
“Is this because I’m a Republican or because I’m a woman?” Ainsley asks him.
“The former.”
“Fine.” She leaves, and CJ shuts the door and sits down. Josh is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
From her 70 gallon tank, Gail wiggles at him. She’s gained two friends when he hasn’t been paying attention. Her old bowl is sitting inside of the tank.
“What’s going on, Josh?” Sam asks. “CJ wouldn’t tell us anything.”
“Please tell me you didn’t tell another senator to stick his legislative agenda up his ass,” Toby says.
“I didn’t,” Josh says. “Why does everyone keep bringing that up?”
“Because it was memorable,” Sam says.
“Last night I had that meeting with Skinner. I finished the meeting and went for a walk to come up with ideas.”
“Ideas? Did you convince him to veto?”
“He’s vetoing, yeah,” Josh says. “I was talking to myself. I thought the building was empty, but this guy picked a fight with me over the marriage act. He claimed he was working for Sam.”
“Who?” Sam asks.
“He said his name was Mark.”
“Nobody named Mark works for me.”
“I know. CJ told me. He - baited me, I guess, got me angry enough that I wasn’t thinking right. He asked me why I cared so much and I told him it was because I’m gay,” Josh says.
“Are you?” Sam asks. Josh can’t decipher the expression on his face.
“Yes.”
“Who knows?” Toby asks.
“Me. You. Mark. Possibly the press corps, by now. Depends who Mark is, I guess,” Josh mutters. “Anybody in the stairwell could have heard, but the building was nearly empty.”
“Anybody in the stairwell,” Sam says.
“I may have shouted.”
“Why were you in the stairwell?” Sam asks.
“I was going for a walk,” Josh says.
“But wh-”
“Enough,” CJ says. “Focus, Sam. What are we doing about this?”
“We need to find out who Mark is,” Sam says. “Find him, figure out his motives. Did he react?”
“He looked at me funny. I walked away,” Josh says.
“You said you ran away,” CJ says.
“Let me keep what little of my dignity is left.”
“Funny how?” Sam asks.
“Cold, I guess. Like he’d realized I was actually a bug or something.”
“I’m going to eviscerate him when I find him,” Toby says.
“I have to resign,” Josh says. “If he leaks it to the press, it’s over. The entire administration is screwed.”
“No,” Leo says. Josh looks at him in surprise. Leo hadn’t yet spoken or reacted to Josh’s story. “You’re not resigning.”
“Fine. The President can fire me. I don’t care,” Josh says. It’s a lie. I think I’d rather die than be fired by President Bartlet.
“No,” Leo repeats. “We’re standing by you. Anybody with a problem can take it up with me.”
Josh looks at the others. They nod in agreement. He finds himself blinking back tears.
“For now, we keep this silent. Nothing outside this room. Ainsley and the President will be informed next,” CJ says.
“What if we leak it preemptively?” Sam suggests.
“Oh, God, please don’t,” Josh says. “Maybe Mark was just surprised. Maybe he’s actually a good guy. Maybe he won’t leak it to the press.” Maybe I need to stop babbling, he thinks.
“Leaking it preemptively would be a good plan if we knew he was planning to leak it. But it’ll be the same stories, unless we’re smart about it,” CJ says. “And I don’t think any of us want the sensationalist crap they’re going to write.”
“CJ, boot up your computer. Let’s see if we can find out who this Mark is,” Sam says.
“How?”
“You have a directory of every employee here.”
CJ boots up the computer and opens the directory. “Okay, now what? There’s thousands of employees.”
“Search for the ones named Mark.”
The computer returns seventy results.
“Great. Now if you click the name, the picture pops up. Josh, tell us when one looks familiar.”
Josh watches the screen as they cycle through photos.
“Anything?” Sam asks.
“Not yet.”
They go through about half of the names before Josh recognizes one.
“That one! Wait, no - go back.”
CJ goes back and brings up the picture.
“That’s him,” Josh says. “Mark Cramer. Registered as a Republican. Says he works as an aide in the Office of Political Liaisons. I don’t even know what that means.”
“We’ll have to find out what he wants,” Sam says. “Send a secretary, maybe. A woman. Not you, Donna - you’re recognizable as Josh’s assistant. She’ll have to be subtle. Undercover mission levels of subtle.”
“Why a woman?” Leo asks.
“Men tend to underestimate young, pretty women,” Sam says. “Take it from me.”
“Ainsley,” CJ says. “She’s a Republican. He’ll think she’s on his side. She’s young and pretty.”
“Ainsley,” echoes Josh. “You should probably call her back in, then.”
CJ opens the door, and Ainsley quickly appears. She shuts the door behind her.
Sam points to the screen. “This guy has information about Josh. We need to know if he’s going to leak it to the press and what his motives are.”
“Okay,” Ainsley says. “What information? Like, blackmail stuff?”
“I’m gay,” Josh says.
“Oh. Really?”
Sam glares at Ainsley.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “That was tactless of me. How long has he known, and why does he know?”
“Since last night, and he knows because I shouted it in a stairwell during an argument with him.”
“Josh, that is quite frankly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Ainsley says.
“It’s true.”
“I believe that. What do you want me to find out exactly, and how?”
“You need to be subtle. We don’t want him to know that we know who he is,” Sam says. “We need to know if he’s planning to leak it. And his motives.”
“Okay. What office?”
“Political Liaisons. He’s an aide.”
“I’m already going.” Ainsley stands up and leaves the room.
“Be subtle!” Sam calls after her.
“You already said that,” Ainsley calls back.
“Be subtle about what?” someone asks from outside the door.
“No, Danny,” CJ says. “You’re not allowed back here, come on.”
“Be subtle about what?” Danny asks.
“If it works, you’ll never know,” CJ says. “What do you want?”
“Just a quick quote about the Oregon flight and Notre Dame,” Danny says.
“Let it go, Danny.”
“You dissed Notre Dame, CJ. What, are you having a party in here?” Danny asks, glancing into the room. “Ooh, a senior staff meeting. Not at the usual time, and with Ainsley Hayes. Something happening?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Sam says. “We’re about done, actually. Come on, Josh, let’s go.” He walks out of the office. Josh follows, slightly bemused.
“I’ll speak to the President,” Leo says. “He’ll want to speak with you after.”
“Okay,” Josh says.
“We’ll be in my office,” Sam says, grabbing Josh’s arm. Josh lets himself be lead across the hall to Sam’s office.
Sam shuts the door, leaving them in silence.
“Are you okay?” Sam asks, leaning on his desk.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Josh asks.
“Because you just got outed to most of your coworkers without much say in the matter and if it were me, I would not be okay,” Sam says.
“If it were you,” Josh repeats.
“Yeah. I’m queer too. Bisexual.” Sam fiddles with his watch.
“Oh. I hadn’t realized.”
“I keep quiet about it. But I figured you’d want to know you weren’t alone here. Also, if worse comes to worse, I’ll come out too. Share the pressure, I guess.”
“Sam, I-I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I know. I’m doing it anyway. The President won’t fire you, but if he did he’d have to fire me too.”
“I don’t know anything about the - community, whatever,” Josh says. “I never got a chance.”
Sam nods. “Me neither.”
They sit in silence for a couple minutes.
“How do you think he’s going to react?” Josh asks quietly.
“Not badly. He’ll be surprised, for sure. I was,” Sam says. “Hey, how’d you get by the screening?”
“I lied,” Josh says. “Told them I didn’t have time for a girlfriend.”
“Same.”
“Why didn’t you have a girlfriend?”
Sam shrugs. “I lean towards men. There’ve been some girls, but honestly it’s never happened when I had time to go on a date.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Sam says.
It’s Ginger. “Leo says the President is ready to see Josh,” she says.
“Okay. Thanks, Ginger,” Josh says.
“I’ll go with you,” Sam says.
“Thanks,” Josh says.
They walk to the Oval Office. Mrs. Landingham waves them through with a smile.
President Bartlet and Leo are waiting for them.
“Josh. You brought Sam,” President Bartlet says.
“I’m moral support,” Sam offers.
“Okay,” President Bartlet says as they sit down. “Josh.”
“Yes, sir,” Josh says.
“That was a very stupid thing to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Be that as it may, I’m glad you told us about it. And I’m truly, deeply sorry that you’ve had to keep that hidden for so long.”
“That’s not your fault, sir.”
“Isn’t it? Couldn’t I be doing better?” President Bartlet says, shaking his head. “No, that’s not the topic of the day. Can you tell me what happened, in your words? Leo gave me the rundown.”
Josh recites the story again. “Before I ran, he looked at me like I was a bug or something. That was just before I called you, sir.”
“No wonder you sounded so shaken,” President Bartlet says. “And right now Ainsley is looking for this man? Mark?”
“Mark Cramer,” Sam says. “We told her to be subtle.”
“Leo, would you go find her? She should be back soon enough.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send her in once she arrives,” Leo says.
“I’ll want you back in here as well,” President Bartlet says.
“Yes, sir.” Leo leaves.
Sam fidgets in his chair.
“Sam, is there something you’d like to mention?” President Bartlet asks.
“Yes, sir, if I may.”
“Go right ahead.”
“Sir, if the media comes down hard on this, they’ll demand that you fire Josh because he wasn’t open from the start. I want you to know that I serve at the pleasure of the President, but if you fire Josh for being gay, you’d better fire me too.”
President Bartlet looks at Sam over his glasses. “Sam, I seem to recall you used to date girls.”
“I’m bisexual. It happens.”
“Ah. Right. No, I won’t be firing either of you. No matter what the media says.”
“Sir, the fallout could be horrible. This administration could be destroyed,” Josh says. “I won’t have that because of me.”
“It won’t be destroyed. And even if it is, it’ll be my fault. No arguments,” President Bartlet says. “I’m putting the two of you in charge of the PR campaign.”
“The PR campaign?” Sam asks.
“How else should we change public opinion? You have a couple of months, by my wager,” he says.
“For the Marriage Recognition Act,” Josh says.
“Us?” Sam says.
“Who better? Who could possibly be more qualified?” President Bartlet says. “I’ll have Leo get you budget details.”
“Sir?” Josh asks.
“Yes, Josh?”
“Will you be changing your mind on the veto? My advice to you was biased.” Josh looks down.
“No. I value your opinion, biased or not. And I won’t sign that piece of paper, not if the entire country has me at gunpoint. So you’d better do a good job on the campaign,” President Bartlet says.
There’s a knock coming from Leo’s door.
“Come in,” calls President Bartlet.
Ainsley, Leo, CJ, and Toby enter.
“Ah, the gang’s all here. Are we all informed up to now?” President Bartlet asks.
“Yes, sir,” Toby answers. “Ainsley has news.”
Ainsley looks to the President.
“Go ahead. We’re all eager to hear it,” he says.
“Sir, I was able to find Mark Cramer. After some chatting, I discovered a few things. For a start, he’s openly homophobic to the point that I’m glad Josh was physically safe last night.”
Josh feels the blood drain from his face. He might have - no, it’s over now - that was a stupid move, arguing with a homophobe. I know better.
“In addition, he does intend to leak the information to the press. He’s leaving it until Monday after next.”
“What’s Monday after next?” Sam asks.
“The week after Thanksgiving. We’ll have gotten a small bump in approval ratings from the turkey pardoning,” Toby says. “He wants to bring us back down. The story will run until Christmas, at least.”
“We can’t take a month of negative press,” says Leo. “We’ll have to preempt it.”
“How? They’ll all run the same stories,” CJ says. “It doesn’t matter who breaks it.”
“What if we don’t leak it?” President Bartlet says. “What if Josh just shows up at a pride parade with a few conveniently placed photographers?”
There’s a moment of silence.
“That’s not a bad idea,” CJ muses. “It gives the impression that he’s not trying to hide.”
“I am definitely trying to hide,” Josh says. “If anybody would like my opinion.”
“Pride’s in June,” Sam says.
“Dammit,” Toby mutters. “Why can’t it be the week of Thanksgiving?”
“It’s the anniversary month of the Stonewall riots,” Sam says.
“Can we make our own pride parade? Maybe a march in support of the veto or marriage equality or something?” Leo suggests.
“Schedule it for Wednesday. That gives us time to prepare and most people will have the day off,” Toby says.
“CJ, do any press members owe you favors?” President Bartlet asks.
“A couple. What are you thinking?”
“Just a couple inches about a pride march for marriage equality being scheduled on Wednesday. It’ll end at the White House. I think that’ll go a long way, as long as it’s not on the back page,” President Bartlet says.
“I’ll see what I can do, sir.”
“Get on that right away.”
“Yes, sir.” CJ stands and leaves.
“Josh, are you okay with this plan?” President Bartlet asks. “You just said that you were trying to hide, but frankly that’s not much of an option at this point. Better to do it on your own terms, I think.”
“Yes, sir. I’m okay with it,” Josh says. He’s also terrified out of his mind, but that’s irrelevant. It’s the best plan available.
“Good.”
“I’ll go with you,” Sam says. “To the march.”
“Sam-”
“Excellent idea, Sam,” President Bartlet says. “Nothing too loud, understand? No wrapping yourselves in flags. Carry a small one, if you must.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam says.
“Wait, are you - I don’t know the right word,” Leo says. “You’d better talk first, or I’ll stick my foot in my mouth.”
“I’m bisexual. I like guys and girls. Mostly guys,” Sam says. “Queer also works, but that’s more of an in-term. Some people take offense.”
“Got it. Okay,” Leo says. “So you two show up at this march, get your pictures taken by a nice reporter, and saunter on home? Is that the plan?”
“Obviously there’ll be some fallout,” Sam says. “But this is the better option. We’ll probably have to do a short interview to clarify that we’re not just there as allies.”
“And this is not the time to fuck with the press,” Toby says. “No stunts. Keep it simple and low-key.”
“We will,” Josh says.
“Good,” says President Bartlet. “Sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Josh, lay low and make plans.”
“Yes, sir,” Josh says.
“You’re all dismissed.”
They stand and leave, each thanking President Bartlet as they go. Josh follows Sam back to his office.
“Have you ever gone?” Josh asks.
“Huh?”
“To pride,” Josh says.
“No. I assume you haven’t either.”
“No.”
“Our first pride, at the orders of the President,” Sam says with a laugh, and that’s for some reason really fucking funny to Josh, so he starts laughing too.
“How ridiculous is my life,” Josh wheezes. “God.”
“I know,” Sam says, struggling to catch his breath. “This is the strangest situation I’ve ever been in.”
They calm down after a few minutes.
“Thank you for going with me, though,” Josh says. “I don’t think I could manage it alone.”
“I’m glad to go with you,” Sam says. “Besides, what kind of a friend would I be if I let you go alone to a strange event with lots of loud people?”
“I’d probably have a panic attack and die,” Josh says. “Sorry, Mr. President, the photos are all of me curled up in a corner hyperventilating.”
Someone knocks on the door. Josh and Sam each take a deep breath.
“Come in,” Sam says.
It’s Ainsley.
“Hi. I thought I might find you two here,” Ainsley says. “Josh, I would like to apologize for earlier, when I said ‘really?’ in that tone of voice. It was inappropriate and cruel.”
“Apology accepted,” Josh says. “Hey, how’d you get Cramer to spill?”
“A girl’s gotta have some secrets, Josh,” Ainsley says. “I know I’m a Republican, but I want you to know that I’m not a homophobe. And I am currently reevaluating my stance on same-sex marriage.”
“Careful, Ainsley. We might turn you into a liberal,” Sam teases.
“Not likely, if they all argue like you,” Ainsley shoots back. “Anyways, let me know if I can do anything else to help.”
“We will,” Josh says. “Thank you.”
“Have a good evening.”
“You too.”
Ainsley leaves.
“Okay,” Sam says. “We’d better start on the PR stuff. What are you thinking?”
“I’m not.”
“Fair. I’m thinking a series of video ads, in an interview style. Get the few elders we can find, have them talk about their long-lost lovers and such. All real stories. Get some young kids in love, throw them on camera. Have a pastor talking about how much he’d love to let the gay couples get married, maybe.”
“That sounds good. What if we go on camera too? I mean, after the pride parade mess dies down.”
“Good idea. Are you ready for that level of publicity?” Sam asks.
“No, but I might be by the time we get around to filming it,” Josh says.
“Okay. I think each ad should end with a call to action - write to your representative or something.”
“What about the transgender community? I mean, should we be including them in this?” Josh asks. “It doesn’t seem right to leave them in the dust.”
“It leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” Sam agrees. “But for the next couple months, the focus needs to be marriage. After that, we can cast a wider net. No harm in including transgender people in the videos, though.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The next three days fly by in a blur. CJ manages to get a couple articles in the main papers, and Donna makes anonymous posts online. They have no way of knowing how many people intend to show up to the march.
Before Josh knows it, it’s Wednesday morning. The march is scheduled to start at 11 at the Lincoln Memorial. (It’s a rather short march, he supposes, but that’s okay.)
He wears a normal work shirt and an overcoat, unsure of how he’s supposed to dress for pride. His doorbell rings at 10:30.
Sam’s there, wearing a black suit. His eyes seem brighter blue than usual. “Hey, are you ready to go?” he asks.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m ready. Let me grab my wallet,” Josh says. He retrieves it and follows Sam downstairs to the waiting taxi.
“Lincoln Memorial, please,” Sam tells the driver.
The drive’s not long, even in the mid-morning traffic.
“Josh?” Sam says, shutting the glass screen between the front and back of the cab.
“Yeah?”
“I may have forgotten to ask you this, but it’s sort of important. Probably. Is your mother alive and if so, does she ever watch the news?” Sam asks.
“Oh, shit,” Josh says.
“Call her. Now, come on, get your phone out,” Sam says. “We’ve got a couple minutes until we get there.”
Josh fumbles with his phone and dials her number.
“What do I say? ” he says, looking at Sam.
The phone rings once.
“I don’t know,” Sam says. “Uh, sorry I never came out to you but it’s about to be on the news?”
“That’s terrible! How’d you do it?”
“I didn’t! They just kind of knew!”
The phone rings again.
“Try, uh,” Sam says, “Just saying it? Like, say you have something to tell her and just say it.”
“Oh, God,” Josh says, and then his mother picks up the phone.
“Lyman household,” she answers. “Claire speaking.”
“Hi, Mom. It’s Josh,” he says.
“Oh, Josh! How are you, darling?”
“I’m doing good. Hey, I, uh, have something to tell you.”
“What is it, dear?”
Josh freezes. Sam makes go-on motions at him.
“Josh?” his mother asks.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Um, I’m gay. I like guys.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“Is that it?” his mother asks, and Josh hears the kindness in her voice and relief floods over him. “Oh, darling, thank you for telling me. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I work at the White House, I have no time for a boyfriend.”
Sam starts laughing.
“Is that him in the background?” his mother asks. “Can I meet him? Is he cute?”
“No, Mom, that’s Sam. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Okay, sorry. Your...partner? Fiancé? ” Her voice is rising in excitement.
“No, Mom, he’s not my fiancé!” Sam doubles over with laughter.
“If you say so, dear. What are you up to this morning? I was hoping you might come home for Thanksgiving.”
“I’m going to be working. Sorry, Mom. I’d come if I could,” Josh says.
“Surely they can do without you for a day.”
“I don’t know, I do an awful lot for them.”
“What are you doing this morning, anyway? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I’m actually working. In an unconventional way. I’m going to a march in support of same-sex marriage on orders from the President.”
“Oh! Are you going to be on the news?” In the background, he hears her fiddling with the television.
“I probably will be. Give it half an hour or so.”
The taxi pulls up to the sidewalk at the Lincoln Memorial.
“I’ll watch for you!” his mother says enthusiastically. She’s got a news channel on; they’re giving a weather report.
“Okay, Mom. I have to go. Have a good day,” he says.
“I love you, Josh.”
“Love you too.”
Josh hangs up.
“Nicely done,” Sam says. “You ready for this?”
“No,” Josh says, but he pays the driver and gets out of the taxi anyway.
There’s a couple hundred people gathered around the memorial, with more cars than he’s ever seen there before. Some of them are either carrying or wrapped in pride flags - there’s so many patterns and designs that Josh doesn’t know where to look. Most of them have homemade signs: “BARTLET FOR LGBTQ AMERICANS?” and “OUR LOVE IS EQUAL” seemed to be popular choices, along with simple equal signs painted in blue and yellow.
Josh and Sam walk over to the center of the event, where people are clustered in a large group.
“Hey, you guys want flags or signs?” someone asks them. They’re androgynous, with bright pink hair and a denim jacket with dozens of pins and patches.
“Um, sure,” Sam says. “Flags, please.”
The person produces a tin of small flags in several varieties. Sam picks out two - a rainbow flag (Josh recognizes that one, at least) and a blue, pink, and purple flag - and thanks them.
“No problem, man. First pride?” they ask.
Josh nods.
“You’ll have fun. Just go with the flow.”
Sam hands Josh the rainbow flag.
“What do I do with it?” Josh asks.
“Just hold it. Wave it if that’s what everyone else is doing.”
Josh holds the flag in one hand and crosses his arms, looking around more closely. Of course, nobody he recognizes is there. But there’s also no reporters. Maybe they’re all waiting at the White House...that’d make a dramatic shot.
At 10:45, the group moves in closer to the memorial, and somebody climbs up one one of Lincoln’s feet with a microphone. She’s wearing a flag like a cape. It’s pastel blue, pink, and white. Transgender, maybe? Josh wonders. He’d probably better learn what the flags mean soon. She turns the microphone on, lets the feedback die down, and begins speaking.
“Hey, everybody! Welcome to the march for marriage equality. This was a pretty last minute thing and apparently we don’t know who organized it, but for something with two days of warning we have an excellent turnout,” she says. “I’m Penny Wesley, and if nobody has any objections, I’ll be going over some standard pride guidelines.”
There’s a few groans, but nobody objects.
“First - please don’t damage anything or leave trash behind you. Second - don’t scale the White House fence, you’ll get shot. And third - have fun and be safe.”
A short cheer goes up at that.
“There’s no crosswalks between here and the White House, so no worries on that front. Do we have anyone here who would like to sing the National Anthem? We don’t have our own flag, but I don’t think Mr. Lincoln will mind if we just salute one of his.”
That gets a bit of laughter from the crowd. Somebody volunteers to sing, and they all listen to the anthem.
“Okay, let’s get started! We’ve got a very enthusiastic group of folks leading the march with their instruments, so just follow the sound of the drums and tubas. Pardon me, I believe I meant sousaphones. Sorry, sousaphone players.”
A beat starts up and Josh follows Sam toward the front of the march, staying close so they don’t get separated in the crowd.
“We should be at the front if we want to be photographed,” Sam says. “But not in the middle of the crowd.”
“Okay,” Josh says.
After a couple hundred feet, the line evens out until people are mostly walking in small groups and pairs. They’re still toward the front of the march.
A light flashes behind Josh. He blinks, startled, and turns to see the camera.
It’s in the hands of a young teenager. She’s got her hair cut in a short afro and is wearing an eye-searing outfit composed entirely of rainbow fabric.
“Hi,” Josh says.
“Sorry,” the teenager says, stepping up beside Josh. “I was trying to test the exposure comp, but I forgot the flash was on. I wasn’t meaning to take your picture or anything.”
“Is that a digital camera?” Josh asks.
“Yeah, it’s one of the new models. Pretty sweet. My uncle works for the company,” she says. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“I’m Josh Lyman.” Josh barely stops himself from adding I’m the deputy chief of staff.
“I’m Jacey. My friends call me Jace. Who’s your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Sorry. Who’s your friend?”
“His name’s Sam Seaborn.”
Jacey frowns. “You look familiar. You both look familiar, actually, but mostly you.”
“We work at the White House,” Sam says.
“You do? Tight. Are you in with the big man?”
“His name is President Bartlet, and yeah. We’re in with him,” Josh says.
“ Wicked. Wait, aren’t you that guy who got shot by the triple K?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Sam says when Josh declines to answer. “I’m the guy who got decimated by a Republican on live TV.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard about that. The real pretty girl?” Jacey asks.
“Yes.”
“Is she available?”
“What are you, twelve?” Josh asks.
“I am fifteen .”
“She’s twenty-nine and a Republican,” Sam says.
Jacey shrugs. “A girl can dream. Hey, is this the first time people from the White House have showed up at pride?”
Sam looks at Josh. Josh shrugs.
“Probably,” Sam says. “That’s gonna make the news blow up even more, Josh.”
“Lovely. Exactly what we want.”
“Hey, at least Cramer won’t have anything left by the time he realizes we outplayed him.”
“What are you talking about?” Jacey asks. “Is this some sort of political conspiracy?”
“It’s more like I f- messed up and this is the only way to unmess it up before I accidentally break the entire administration,” Josh says.
“You can say fuck,” Jacey says, completely calm. “I’ve heard worse.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Wait, so you guys are going to be on the news? Like on camera?”
“Seems likely,” Sam says. “If we’re not, then we’re screwed.”
“Hey, if I stick with you guys, can I be on camera?” Jacey asks enthusiastically.
“Sure,” Josh says. “Why not.”
“ Sweet ,” Jacey says.
“It’s safe for everyone you know to see you on TV here, right?” Sam asks.
“Oh, yeah. They all know. I got a girlfriend, too, but her family took her to Kansas for Thanksgiving. She’d rather stay here, but she’s only 15 so she can’t be home alone for that long,” Jacey says. “I mean, I think she’d be okay. She’s got me. My family could have her over. But her family’s all about meeting distant relatives for uncomfortable meals, I guess.”
She’s pretty chatty. Are all teenagers this chatty? Josh wonders. “Some families are like that,” he says.
“What’s yours like? If you don’t mind me askin’.”
“It’s, uh, really just me and my Mom. My father passed away last March. She’d like me to visit for holidays, but the White House keeps me busy. We’re our own little family, I guess, the senior staff. We argue like one, anyway,” Josh says. Why am I talking about this with a 15 year old I just met?
“That’s cool, I guess. Sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks.”
“I have three little siblings, and they all hate being quiet. Me, I gotta do my schoolwork, so I’m okay with quiet. I like quiet. They just always scream and chase each other around.”
“How old?”
“Two of ‘em are eight and the other’s ten. The twins are Erika and Krissy, and the ten year old’s Zach. Hey, listen!”
The drumbeat has changed. Josh hears the beginnings of a chant.
“Black, white, gay, straight - love does not discriminate!” shouts Jacey, who apparently already knows the deal. Josh shares a look with Sam and joins in hesitantly, adding his voice to a rising chorus. They’re almost to the Washington Monument now.
The chant rises into the morning air, echoing off the reflection pond and causing a flock of ducks to take off. For a moment - just a moment - Josh feels like he belongs.
These are my people, he thinks, testing the thought out. I’m standing with them.
“It’s a good feeling, isn’t it?” Sam says, looking at him. “I feel it too.”
Josh nods.
“You never been around the community before?” Jacey asks, taking a brief break from her chant.
“No.”
“It’s the best. Hey, hey, ho, ho, homophobia’s got to go!” she shouts, matching the new chant.
There’s a huge variety of chants. The shouts are continuous as they turn to march on the White House.
The first wave of reporters is at the Washington Monument. None of them are White House reporters, of course. Josh doesn’t make eye contact with them, but one flashbulb goes off - then another - and a whole storm. There’s a clamor of questions. Sam puts his hand on Josh’s back, and they keep walking. Eventually the reporters fall back.
“Whoa,” Jacey says. “They recognized you.”
“Reporters tend to do that, unfortunately,” Josh says. “The next wave’ll be worse, but that’ll be video instead of flash at least.”
“Head held high, Josh,” Sam reminds him. “Maybe stop frowning.”
Josh puts a smile on his face. It takes effort.
“Okay, not like that. That’s worse,” Jacey says. “Come on, live a little!”
“Kid, I was honestly not intending on ever coming out. This is a bit terrifying,” Josh says.
“Okay, so make it less terrifying. Come on, put your flag up. I’ll fly mine too.” Jacey produces a pink-shaded flag seemingly out of nowhere. It’s got a lipstick mark on it.
“What flag’s that?” Josh asks.
“Lipstick lesbian. Can’t you tell? I like feeling pretty and kissing girls. Come on, put it up.”
Feeling a bit silly, Josh holds his flag out in front of him. Sam does the same beside him. Jacey dances in front of them, spinning in circles.
She looks so happy - so hopeful - that Josh can’t hold back a genuine smile. We’re going to do it. We’re going to stop the marriage recognition act, and after that we’re going to bring marriage equality to the whole country.
It won’t be easy. Nothing worth it ever is. But there’s a reason Josh is a senior staffer for the President. He signed up for hard . He signed up for impossible , and he pulled it off.
“There’s a smile!” Jacey says. “Come on, we’re almost there.”
Josh glances over at Sam, who’s already looking at him with an expression Josh can’t pinpoint except as in the range of surprised. His mouth’s hanging slightly open, and the instant he realizes Josh is looking at him, he blinks and looks toward the White House.
There’s already reporters waiting for them with cameras ready. Josh recognizes most of them. Danny’s there, and a lot of others from the pressroom. He’s looking at Josh with an expression of…respect? But the sort of respect one might have for a raw piece of meat that would make an excellent headline.
That metaphor didn’t make sense at all, which probably explains why Josh isn’t a speechwriter.
“You ready to be on TV?” Josh asks Jacey.
“Hell yes!” She goes back to walking next to them, flag still held high.
They reach the White House. The chants continue, louder than ever. The march seems to have gained more people than it had started with.
“Josh! Sam!” shouts a reporter, holding out a microphone. “Why are you marching here today?”
“We’re marching in support of marriage equality,” Sam says. “Just like everyone else here.”
“Does this have anything to do with the President’s decision to veto the Marriage Recognition Act?” another reporter asks.
“Yes. It’s time to fight for what’s right,” Sam says.
“What about the fact that the majority of Americans wanted the bill passed?”
Careful. “We think that the majority of Americans, given the chance, will change their minds on this issue,” Josh says. That’s not insulting, right? I think that was pretty good.
“So you’re saying that the majority of Americans are wrong?” Danny asks. Dammit! I should have known he was going to pull something.
“No, that’s not what I sa - I didn’t say that, you’re putting words in my mouth,” Josh says.
“Sam, are you a homosexual?” a reporter asks.
“I’m bisexual, actually,” Sam says, giving his flag a little wave.
“Josh?”
“I - yes. I’m gay,” he says.
“Josh! Are you and Sam in a relationship?” Danny asks.
“No,” Josh and Sam say at the same time.
“Hey, why aren’t you asking me questions? I’m like, ten times cuter than either of them,” Jacey says. “ And I have a girlfriend.”
She’s ignored by the reporters.
“Does the President know?”
“He’s aware that we planned to march today, yes,” Sam says.
“Is he concerned?”
“What about?” Josh asks, glancing at Sam.
Time to go , Sam mouths at Josh. “No more questions.”
The reporters all clamor in protest, all trying to get just one more question in.
Josh and Sam work their way back into the crowd. A minute later, Jacey catches up.
“Hey, that was wild,” she says. “All those questions! They must really think you’re a story.”
“Yeah,” Josh says, breathing hard. “Hey, do you want to help us out with changing the minds of the majority of Americans?”
She gives him a look. “Depends. What do I have to do?”
“Talk into a camera about how much you love your girlfriend.”
“Done.”
“Here’s my business card,” Josh says. “Give my office a call sometime soon, and we’ll find a time for you to come in to discuss specifics.”
Jacey tucks the card into her pocket and nods. “I’ll do that.”
“We should get back to the west wing,” Sam says. “Josh, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Josh says. He’s not exactly sure if that’s true, but it’s the answer he has, so it’ll have to do.
“Jacey, nice meeting you,” Sam says. “Josh, come on. We can avoid them if we go around the back.”
Josh follows Sam through the crowd and around the White House until they reach the entrance gate.
The security guard gives them a look. Josh realizes he’s still holding the pride flag and sticks it inside his coat.
They check in and enter the building. They almost make it to the bullpen before the shouting starts.
“Josh! Sam!” CJ calls above the clamor. “My office, now.”
They manage to get into CJ’s office without answering anyone else’s questions. She shuts the door, leaving them in silence.
Her TV’s running on mute. Josh sees a picture of himself holding the little rainbow flag, Sam beside him, captioned “HOMOSEXUAL WHITE HOUSE SCANDAL?” CJ shuts it off.
“You did good,” she tells them. “I wish you hadn’t answered questions.”
“Sorry,” Josh says. “They were waiting for us.”
“I know. I hope you’re both ready for the worst week of your lives,” CJ says. “There’ll be stories. Not as bad as if Cramer had leaked it, but they’ll be there.”
Josh nods.
“I have a briefing in 20 minutes. They’re going to ask questions. I’m going to write them down and ask you so I can get back to them with good answers. I’d normally just answer myself, but I’m sure they’ll come up with the worst possible questions. I’ll try to keep them on real news topics, but you know them.”
“Yeah,” Sam says. “Speaking of, one of them asked if the President was concerned.”
“I saw that. Walking away was a good choice,” CJ says. “I’m sure I’ll hear more about it.”
“Do you have any idea what he meant?” Josh asks.
“I have theories, but nothing solid,” CJ says. “Don’t worry about it. Sam, Toby wants you to work on a speech.”
“Okay. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” Sam says. He leaves, and Danny slips into the room.
“No,” CJ says. “Get out.”
“Just one question,” Danny says. “Off the record. You look amazing today, CJ.”
“Thank you, and it depends on the question.”
“It’s for Josh. Why now?”
“Why now,” Josh repeats. “It was…time?” It’s a terrible lie, and he knows it.
“Off the record, Josh,” Danny says.
“ Off the record off the record?” Josh checks.
“ Off the record off the record. Just me and my curiosity,” Danny says, holding up his empty hands as a gesture of peace.
“An aide found out and was going to leak it next Monday,” Josh says. “This way was less damage, according to CJ.”
“She’s right,” Danny says. “Even leaking it yourself would have been much worse than this.”
“Okay. That’s enough. Get out, before I sic the Secret Service on you,” CJ says.
“Fair enough,” Danny says, and he leaves with a wink.
“He’s disturbing,” Josh mutters.
“Yes,” CJ agrees, though she sounds a bit too fond for him to believe her.
“Press conference?” he prompts her.
“Oh. Yes, right, press conference. I’m going now. Try to get something done. I’m sure Donna has a list,” CJ says. She grabs her briefing clipboard and leaves, Josh close behind.
Josh returns to his office. Somebody must have yelled at them, because the people in the bullpen are no longer asking him questions. From the way they’re avoiding eye contact with him and even each other, he suspects it was Toby.
“Donna!” he yells. She appears in the office doorway.
“Hi, Josh,” she says. “How was your morning?”
“Lovely, thank you. Do we have anything that I can do in under 15 minutes?” he asks.
“The governor of Alaska needs a call,” Donna says.
“Why do I care about the governor of Alaska?”
“Because he’s claiming that the government is going to drain the oil reserves in a wildlife refuge.”
“Are we?”
“I don’t think so. You might have to check with somebody on that, though.”
“I’m checking with you. Find out in five minutes. I’ll be on the phone with him,” Josh says.
“Okay. I left his number on your desk.”
“Why were you in my office?” he asks.
“To leave the governor of Alaska’s phone number on your desk,” she says innocently.
“Donna!”
“I’m going to go find out about it,” she says.
Josh sits in his desk chair and picks up the phone. Donna’s left a post-it on the desk that has a phone number. It says “gubernatorial Aslan,” but he figures that probably translates to governor of Alaska.
He dials the number and goes through the channels to actually speak to the governor.
“Bruce Wilkenstein speaking, how may I help you?” His voice is slow and deep. Josh doesn’t think he’s ever met him or even seen a picture, but that doesn’t stop an image of a seasoned woodsman from popping into his head.
“Hi. This is Josh Lyman from the White House. How’re you doing?” Josh asks.
“Oh, I’m doing okay. Do you know you’re on the news?”
“Yes, I do know that. I heard you were concerned about oil drilling in a wildlife refuge?”
“I am very concerned about oil drilling in our wildlife refuges,” Wilkenstein says.
“What refuge specifically?” Josh asks.
“All of ‘em. Oil companies want in, and they’re paying senators enough that they might get in.”
“What would you like to be done about that?”
“Well-” He laughs. “I’d like oil companies to not be paying senators, but barring that, I’d like the refuges to be protected from drilling and fracking under federal law.”
“How many acres are we talking about, here?”
“Roundabouts 75 million,” Wilkenstein says. “All managed by F and G, but I want better protection than those hippies.”
“Seventy-five million acres,” Josh says, doing frantic math in his head. “That’s...one-fifth of the entire state.”
“It’s quite a bit,” Wilkenstein agrees. “But it’s all very important to the ecosystem. We’re protected from coal mining and mountaintop removal, but we need protection from big oil.”
“What does the White House gain from protecting the wildlife refuges?”
“The knowledge that you’re not contributing to the death of one of America’s last wildernesses. And that you’re helping out a faithful democrat.”
Donna enters the room and shoves a piece of paper at Josh. He takes it and sets it down.
Wildlife refuges already protected. AGRS-201.b
Josh has no idea what the last bit means, but it’s good news at least.
“Governor, I’ve just gotten verification that wildlife refuges are already protected from oil drilling. If it would set your mind at rest, I can have someone fax you the specifics.”
“Well, that’s just great news. Thank you, Mr. Lyman. You work faster than most other folks in Washington could dream of doing.”
“No problem, Governor. Have a good day.”
“You too, sonny.”
Wilkenstein hangs up, leaving Josh alone with Donna.
“Fax him the actual law, will you?” Josh says. “And I have no idea what this means.” He points at the last word on the paper.
“It means that that’s the law. I made a system based on subject and line.” She sounds pretty proud.
“Donna, you can’t just reorganize the laws of the United States.”
Donna considers that and apparently doesn’t find the point worth arguing. “I watched the press briefing.”
“How’d it go?”
“You’re going to have a lot of questions to answer. CJ won’t let you on the podium, though. Not after last time. The press bought that excuse pretty easily,” she says.
“Yeah, I remember last time. I don’t think it’s an excuse, I think it’s actually the truth,” Josh says. He is, after all, permanently banned from the press room.
Donna shrugs. “I think she’s trying to protect you and Sam. Some of the questions were kind of nasty.”
“Like what?” Josh asks.
“I don’t want to make you feel bad,” Donna protests.
“I’m going to hear it anyway. I’ll watch the briefing if I need to,” Josh says. Better to know now than be taken by surprise later.
“Okay. A lot of them were asking if the President was going to fire you for lying when you got onto the campaign.”
“I didn’t lie. Technically. I said I didn’t have time for a girlfriend,” Josh says.
“I don’t think they appreciate the distinction,” Donna says.
“What else?”
“They were implying that your advice to the President has been biased and that everything with you involved should be reviewed and that you shouldn’t be allowed to be a senior staffer. Which I consider very wrong, because you’re a good person and everybody is biased anyway.”
Josh nods. He’d been expecting something like that to come up.
CJ appears in the doorway.
“CJ,” Josh says, glad for a distraction.
“Josh. I have some questions for you,” CJ says. Her hair’s gotten a bit wild since before she went to the press conference, and she looks exhausted. “Donna, could you give us the room?”
“Sure.” Donna leaves, shutting the door behind her.
“Fire away,” Josh says when CJ is silent.
“Chris wants to know if your parents know,” she says, clicking her pen.
“My mother knows. My father’s dead, so….”
“How long has she known?”
Josh checks his watch. “Two hours.”
“Josh!”
“I had to tell her before she saw it on TV, didn’t I?”
“Fine. I’ll have someone contact her and tell her not to talk to reporters. Danny wants details about the girl who you walked with this morning.”
“He could have asked her himself. She’d have been happy to be on TV,” Josh says.
“Oh, he did. He got a very nice quote from her, in fact.”
“He did? When?”
“Just after you two walked away. She stayed behind for a bit. You should watch the footage, it’s pretty good.”
“I’d rather not,” Josh mutters.
“Watch the part with her in it,” CJ says. “Seriously.”
“Fine. Why does he want details from me?” Josh asks.
“I don’t know. I’ll cross it off. Sheryl would like to know if you are currently dating anyone.”
“I work in the White House. I don’t have time to date anyone.”
“Nicely said.”
“Hey, what about that bit with the President being concerned? What was that about?”
“I’m taking care of that. It’s honestly nothing to worry about,” CJ says.
They go through questions, some considerably more offensive than others, for nearly half an hour. Finally, CJ sets down her pen.
“That’s you done. I’m off to Sam’s office. I promised I’d be back with the press within an hour.”
“Great,” Josh says. “Good luck.”
When she’s gone, he turns on the TV. They’re playing footage from the march. He turns on the audio.
“-in a surprising turn of events, two senior White House staff members were seen marching and carrying pride flags. Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman and Deputy Communications Director Samuel Seaborn, shown here, said they were marching in support of same-sex marriage. One teenager who walked with them during the march is interviewed here.”
The screen cuts to video footage of Jacey in her rainbow outfit. Josh and Sam are visible in the background, hurrying into the crowd.
“I think they’re being really brave,” she says. “I haven’t known them for long, but I know they’re both good people trying to make a difference in the world.”
“Do you think they should be allowed to continue working in the White House?” a reporter asks, offscreen. Jacey turns to face him, slightly angled to the camera.
“Of course I do. Why the hell should it make a difference if a person wants to date boys or girls or both or neither? They do their jobs well, and that’s what matters.”
The interview ends. Josh shuts off the TV and stares at the blank screen for a minute. What have I done to earn loyalty like that? Especially from someone I just met this morning?
The afternoon flies by. Josh ignores the news and tries not to think about what sort of articles will be published the next day.
Around dinner, Leo shows up in his office.
“Hey, kid,” he says, tossing a sandwich at Josh. He fumbles it and ends up picking it up from the floor.
“Hey, Leo,” he says. “What’s going on?”
“Not much.” Leo sits down in a chair and unwraps his sandwich. Josh does the same and takes a bite. It’s strangely delicious for a prepackaged corner store sandwich.
Oh. He’d forgotten lunch.
That explains it.
“I saw in the press interview that your mom knows,” Leo says.
“Yeah. I called her this morning.”
“Smart of you. I don’t think finding out from the news is the best way to go.”
“Yeah.”
“Did your father ever know?”
“No. I never told him. Never really felt the need to, since I was in politics and - well, you know.”
“Yeah.” Leo studies him for a moment, eyes soft. “He’d be proud of you, you know. Of what you did today. I know I am.”
Josh looks down. “Thank you, Leo.”
“I mean it,” Leo says. “I knew him well. Come on, eat your sandwich. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”
“I know. I’m not looking at any newspapers,” Josh says.
“Excellent plan. You’ll have heard all about it from Donna by noon, anyway,” Leo says with a grin. “And Toby’ll be calling their editors, no doubt.”
“I’m sure he will. I don’t envy them,” Josh says.
“Neither do I. Hey, do you have plans for tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I think Sam, Toby and I were going to figure something out. Football, probably.”
“If you don’t have anything, fly up to New Hampshire with the first family and I. It’ll be fun.”
“I really don’t want to listen to the history of the yam in Latin, Leo.”
“Fair enough. Did you deal with the governor of Alaska?”
“Yeah, I sent him a copy of the law protecting wildlife refuges.”
“Good. The President wants you working on your PR campaign as soon as possible, at least a couple hours a day.”
“I will. Thanks, Leo.”
“No problem, Josh.” Leo stands up, having finished his sandwich. Just then, Donna knocks twice and then opens the door without waiting for a response. Leo slips out.
“Josh?” she says.
“What is it?” Josh asks.
“The governor of California’s on line 2. He said something about a Chinese cargo boat. It’s urgent.”
Josh picks up the phone. “Thanks, Donna.” He hits line 2.
“This is Josh Lyman. How can I help you, governor?”