Lucy gets out of bed and takes her tablet to the living room so the bright screen light won't wake her husband Boone, though he slumbers so deeply she doubts it would matter. How she envied his sleep these past few weeks. Random insomnia appeared out of nowhere and was fast becoming her constant companion. She wonders if she's beginning "The Change" already and rolls her eyes. Impossible, she tells herself. She's only in her early forties though she easily looks a decade younger. She affirms that assessment by checking out her ass nicely framed in purple lace panties in the full-length mirror as she walks out of the bedroom.

She flops on the couch and turns on the tablet. The screen reads 2:47 a.m. She taps on her bookmarks to access her favorite gossip sites, starting with The Dallas Dispatch because local dirt is more fun than national scandals. The page loads and Lucy sees her Aunt Sue Ellen's face staring back at her under the headline, "Gov Contender Sue Ellen Ewing Falls Off the Wagon?"

"What the hell?" Lucy shouts. Her widened eyes dart between the photos and the article text.

"Oh my god!" Lucy yells, followed by a loud giggle. "Boone! Boone wake up! You gotta see this," she shouts while running into their bedroom.

"Boone! Wake up right now!" Lucy shoves his shoulder. Her husband snorts lightly but his eyes stay closed. She sighs, straddles him and holds his palm to her breast. "BOONE!"

"Huh? Babe? Well hey there, babe," he says and smiles.

Lucy shoves his hand off of her bosom.

"Aw come on now. What's the idea - "

"Shhh. Sit up. Sit up, Boone!"

"Alright, alright. Dammit woman you test my patience you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah I know. But you love me, dontcha?" Lucy asks and bats her lashes while leaning in for a big kiss. "Look here. One of your police buddies stopped Sue Ellen tonight for DUI! It's on the internet with pictures!"

"Pictures? Lemme see that." Boone rubs his eyes and takes the tablet. "I'll be damned," he says and taps each photo to enlarge it. "Who took these photos? Does it say?"

"Well read it - "

"My eyes hurt and you tricked me out of sleep with a titty grab so you better just tell me what the hell it says, girl."

Lucy laughs and leans into Boone's side, taking his arm and placing it around her. "Okay, settle down cowboy. It says Dallas philanthropist and Texas governor hopeful Sue Ellen Ewing stopped for driving drunk? An anonymous source puts Sue Ellen Ewing dining with her ex-husband JR Ewing at the Omni Hotel tonight for about three hours, engaged in what seemed to be deep conversation. They left together near closing time and headed to the valet. A short time later another source provided these photos of someone who looks to be Sue Ellen, wearing the same outfit from dinner and performing what appears to be a field sobriety test in front of a police squad car." Lucy looks at Boone.

"Well go on," he says, interested.

Lucy continues reading, "Mrs. Ewing appears very upset in the photos. She's well known in Dallas as an advocate for recovering alcoholics after battling her own addiction for years. Ewing often mentions her 20+ years of sobriety with great pride and has become an inspiration to others struggling with substance abuse. However these photos beg the question, is Sue Ellen Ewing drinking again? Her office could not be reached for comment at publishing time and the Dallas Police Department claimed they could not discuss any pending investigations but did confirm that Sue Ellen Ewing is not currently in custody. Ewing is seeking the Democratic party nomination for candidacy in the next Texas governor race. Her website appearance schedule lists a campaign rally in Fort Worth tomorrow. For more information, see .com."

Boone grabs the tablet from Lucy and looks closely at the photos again. "Is that really her?"

"Oh it's her alright. I'd recognize that crying face anywhere, I've seen it so many times," Lucy says. "That dress is her style, too."

"Well I'd like to know where these photos came from," says Boone.

"Probably someone driving by recognized her. Wanted some internet fame, I guess. I'm surprised it's not a video on YouTube yet. Hey, lemme see that," Lucy says, wanting to check.

Boone keeps the tablet out of reach of Lucy's short little arms. He looks closely at the pictures. "Somethin' don't make sense here. This is a real dark road, off the main highway."

"So?"

"So we don't do DUI stops on deserted back country roads. Know why? 'Cause they're deserted. You do your DUI huntin' on busy streets that connect bars and clubs with the suburbs. And this sure ain't one of those streets. I'd like to know what this guy said to Sue Ellen. I can tell you in a heartbeat if he's legit or not," Boone says. "And I'll bet the farm he took these pictures his damn self. That's not okay at all, Lucy. You don't exploit people as an officer of the law, no matter who it is or how much money you're fixing to get for it."

The smile fades from Lucy's face. "Should I call Sue Ellen? It's 3 in the morning. What if she is drunk? I sure don't wanna know about it," Lucy says. "Hell she probably doesn't even know she's on the internet with this. God that's bound to get her all dramatic. No, uh uh, I'm not calling her. Hey, wait a minute. I'm gonna call Mark. He's her campaign manager, isn't he? Yeah. Your little brother oughtta deal with this, not me," Lucy says and reaches for her cell phone.

"Hello?" Mark says in a groggy voice.

"Mark! It's Lucy. Wake up!"

"What happened? Is Boone okay?"

'Yes, yes he's fine. He's not even working tonight. Listen buddy, I'm sorry to scare you calling so late like this but there's something you should know. Sue Ellen's on the internet taking a field sobriety test tonight, and there are pictures..….Mark?….You there?"

"What? Where are the pictures? What site?"

"I saw them first on Dallas Dispatch dot com. She's on their home page. Then I Googled her and a bunch of other sites have picked up the article too. I couldn't sleep so I was just messing around reading gossip at three in the morning. Man, I tell you this insomnia's so - "

"Lucy! I gotta go deal with this. Thanks so much for calling."

"Wait!"

"What is it?"

"Boone thinks there's somethin' fishy about the whole thing. The street being so dark and all."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Well I'm just telling you what he said. He wants to talk to Sue Ellen, ask her exactly what the officer said and did. He can tell you if the stop was legit or not."

"Legit or not? As in a set up? Are you serious?"

"Hey I'm just the messenger. He's already back to sleep otherwise you could ask him yourself."

"Tell Boone I'll call him in the morning, and I'll ask Mrs. Ewing what happened."

"Enough with the 'Mrs. Ewing' already! Mark, you're the one that's gonna save her ass on this. Call her Sue Ellen, for crying out loud. Level the playing field a little, would ya? It'll help you relax, too."

"I'm just being respectful, that's all."

"Well it sounds submissive. Is that how you wanna come off? Grow a pair and call the lady by her first name. She'll take you more seriously if you do, trust me. Sue Ellen's lightened up with age but she still puts on airs, she can't help it. It's inbred, you know?"

"Fine. Sue Ellen it is. No big deal," Mark lies. Lucy smirks at the phone. "And Lucy? Thanks. Thanks a lot. I really appreciate this…the call," Mark says and sighs into the phone. Lucy can almost see it sliding out of his sweaty hand. Poor Mark. He was born nervous.

"No problem, Marky. You got this. You'll fix it. I know you will." Mark says goodbye, grateful for the vote of confidence. Lucy has more faith in him that he does, that's for sure.

Mark pours himself a tall mug of black coffee and turns on his laptop. He navigates to the Dallas Dispatch website and gasps at the pictures of Sue Ellen displayed above the fold on the homepage. He examines every inch of the photos, hoping to find something amiss. He reads and rereads the article. When he's finished, he takes a sip of coffee only to find he's already drank it all. He wipes his sweaty palms on his flannel pajama pants. Well, there's no denying it. Here it is, his first campaign crisis. What should he do first?

For the next 10 minutes, Mark wrestles his mind over why he didn't just listen to his mother and go become a "computer guy" somewhere instead of working 'round the clock to elect someone upon whose success his own career depends. What on earth made him think he could be a campaign manager? Mark laughs and it echoes in his silent, lonely apartment. His tired eyes scan the living room and settle on the picture of Jason, the love of his double life. The very same picture he hides away when his family visits. The very same Jason who understood so completely Mark's fear of coming out to his conservative, Baptist, big Texas family. Jason, whose only regret was working for an employer who offered too little health insurance to treat his disease, but too much to qualify for free treatment.

He left this world nearly four years ago and along with him went Mark's joy. His sense of purpose went dark, just vanished until he met Sue Ellen Ewing at Lucy and Boone's wedding. He overheard her telling a small group of family members her plans to run for governor and her platform of healthcare reform. He introduced himself and asked to hear more. Within five minutes she'd come right out and told him her passion for policy making came from her own experience with HIV and from nearly drinking her life away. That honesty punched Mark square in the face and knocked the hood of shame right off his head. He asked her for a job right then. And as if on cue, Boone was right there recommending him. Overselling him, actually, as was clear at this moment.

But that's why he's not a programmer for a living. So he better not piss away this chance to honor Jason's life and thousands of others by cowering to doubt and fear. Speaking of him cowering, where was Aubrey on this? She's the campaign's social media specialist. Wasn't she supposed to get an email alert every time Google crawled Sue Ellen's name online? Well it's two birds with one stone then. He slaps his sweaty hands on his face repeatedly and says, "Go time," while picking up the phone.

Sue Ellen answers on the third ring, her voice thick with sleep, "Hello?"

"Sue Ellen, it's Mark. Sorry to wake you, but it's important."

"Mark? What's wrong? What time is it?"

"It's four in the morning and I need you to shake yourself awake please. Have you gotten a heads up from Aubrey on this yet?"

"A heads up? On what? No."

"Well that's a shame because we'll have to play catch up then. The story's already been online for nearly four hours and your rally tomorrow really puts us behind the eight ball."

"What story? I don't know what you're talking about."

She sounds earnest enough. Mark continues fishing. "Sue Ellen, what did you do tonight? Where did you go?"

"I had dinner with JR at the Omni and then I went home. Why? What's this about?"

"This is about me being your campaign manager and finding out something troubling from the internet instead of from you. Now what else happened tonight?"

"There's something bad about me on the internet?" Sue Ellen pauses for a minute and with no reply from Mark, she sighs. "Something strange did happen on my way home. A police officer stopped me out by the lake and gave me a DUI test. It was completely humiliating. I don't even know why he stopped me, he never said. He just walked up to my door, asked for my license and told me to get out of the car. And when I hesitated, he put his hand on his gun and yelled at me to get out. His gun, Mark. He scared me to death, he really did," Sue Ellen says, her voice beginning to tremble. "It was pitch dark and there was nobody on that road but me, and him."

Mark winces upon hearing her emotion. He softens his demeanor a bit. "Okay so you were driving home on the road along the lake and he appeared from behind and pulled you over. Were you really alone?"

"Of course I was alone. I didn't pick up some young cowboy on my way home and I certainly didn't bring JR back with me."

Mark presses on, "You performed the test and then what happened?"

"Before the test, he said he smelled alcohol on me. Mark, I didn't have anything to drink. Not one drop. Please, please believe me!" Sue Ellen sounds near tears.

"I want to believe you. I know this is upsetting and I'm sorry, I really am. But as your campaign manager, I need to have a clear understanding of what happened so I can advise how to best respond. Now, I want you to get up, clear your head and write down an account of exactly what happened with that officer from start to finish. Do it quickly, but carefully, and call me back when you're done. Do not look at the internet yet, you'll be distracted if you do. Do you understand? I need you to trust me on this. When you call me back, I'll tell you what this is all about. And Sue Ellen? It's going to be alright. You can count on it."

Sue Ellen's finger hovers over the browser icon on her phone, wanting so badly to get online. But Ruby said to let someone help her, Sue Ellen recalls and decides to do as Mark asks. "I do trust you, Mark. I do. And thank you," Sue Ellen says before hanging up.

Mark opens a new message in his email account and types, "Aubrey, I already spoke to Sue Ellen about the DUI story. There is no need for you to contact her about it. I am handling it." and presses 'send'. He could nearly feel his pair growing by the moment.

Harris Ryland swirls his scotch in its tulip whiskey glass. The liquid licks the single ice cube's surface with a golden tongue. Round and round he gently works the drink in its vessel until stopping with a sharp twist. He brings the glass to his nose and deeply inhales the seductive aroma. Harris slowly exhales and takes a small sip, rolling the scotch around his mouth until every tastebud is covered. Marvelous. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes.

It's still dark out and much too early for respectable people to drink, but this is a special occasion and Harris isn't much interested in being respectable. But he is respected, even feared you might say, by his people. And judging from today's news, he can welcome Sue Ellen Ewing into the fold. Everyone's got a job to do in Harris World. He tells them what it is and how to do it. Fall in line, follow simple instructions and life is quite nice for Harris and his minions. For an occasional lapse in good conscience, he gives them things they could not achieve on their own - wealth, independence, happiness and that elusive, insatiable bitch, power. Most everyone is so easily enticed by these things it's hardly any fun luring them. But there's a feisty one now and then, a fool in a super hero cape with a big E for ethics on the chest. And of course the nouveau virtuous who claim they're done behaving badly and commit to the big do over. These are the most fun to hunt because they're already running from themselves.

Sue Ellen Ewing has all three of those qualities and that's why she's such a prize, a terrific trifecta of epic failure on the brink. If Harris tips the scale toward guilt a bit more she'll tumble. She should have let him move money through her PAC. That's child's play compared to bribing the Medical Examiner on a murder case. Harris is happy to know of that mistake, even if his first try at using it against her didn't work. One indiscretion after another peels someone's pretty layers like an onion until, like fruit rotting from the inside out, the stinking core is exposed and there is no more denying they are simply bad souls. May as well make the most of it.

Sitting in his dark study with the heavy black curtains drawn, he stares at his large computer monitor illuminating a distressed Sue Ellen in front of a police car. He enlarges the picture so her face fills the screen. Her eyes are shut tight, head slightly back, hair tousled by the wind and mouth pulled into an open grimace. A glorious glistening tear track runs down her left cheek. What kind of sound was she making, he wonders. Gasping? Sobbing? Whimpering? He hopes gasping. That is the sound of shame and it oozes out of Sue Ellen in this picture. She must have felt so vulnerable on that quiet dark road, ordered out of the car practically at gunpoint. He heard she tried to question authority but was swatted down easily. She looks a hot mess in this photo, not gubernatorial at all. Had she seen it yet? He hopes not. He wants to be alone with messy, scared, crying Sue Ellen for a little while before she's blotted with excuses and rationales for the photo.

Harris brings his face within inches of the screen, leveling his eyes with hers. He inhales, imagining the Chanel perfume he smelled when she humiliated him in his office last week. She'd smiled so confidently after her stunt, he had wanted to snap her neck. Well she's got quite a different expression here for all the internet to see. Raw and small, and breakable indeed.

"Don't cry, Sue Ellen," he says and licks her cheek on the screen. Even Harris is surprised at her effect on him. He laughs and lowers his hand to pleasure himself.

Mark clicks on the comment form and types, "Maybe we should hold judgement until we get the whole story here. These are just pictures without any context. We don't know she was drunk, people." His anonymous comment appears at the bottom of the list of growing remarks underneath The Dallas Dispatch's piece on Sue Ellen. Who were these people commenting online at 5 in the morning on a Sunday? In any case, mob mentality was taking over. Many of the remarks were sneers and harsh name calling. People sure love to tear others down. He is sad Sue Ellen will read things like, "Once a drunk, always a drunk" and "Even a rich bitch can't buy sobriety LOL!". This is bound to affect her performance at the rally. He really wishes she'd taken his advice and hired a speech writer.

He looks at his neat spreadsheet of media contacts at the ready on the laptop. He's got to send a statement out before the local morning news shows start for any hopes of coverage. It's been nearly 30 minutes since he spoke to Sue Ellen. God, what is she doing? Falling apart? Reading everything online? He should have gone over to speak to her in person. Or is that too familiar? He only just called her by her first name tonight for god sakes. Oh lord. His grandfather clock chiming five is deafening. He walks to the kitchen and shoves an entire Ding Dong into his mouth. One swallow into the gooey cake, his phone rings, naturally.

Mark gulps the Ding Dong down and gags while running for the phone. A hearty cough and swig of hot coffee clears his throat enough for a scratchy, "Hello?"

"It's me," Sue Ellen says. "I'm done."

"Great, great. Tell me what you wrote." Mark listens and takes notes for the next 15 minutes. He puts Sue Ellen on hold and highlights several things on his notes page:

• Silverlake Road, about 11:10 pm, no other traffic seen before test, or heard during with eyes closed
• Police car had light bar with blue and red strobes, Dallas PD decal on door, unknown plate/unit number
• Approaches on driver's side
• No reason given for stop
• No name tag
• About 6' tall, brown eyes, dark hair, mustache, left hand on gun
• Black Latex glove
• Left before Sue Ellen
• Heard no picture taking clicks or electronic sounds over the wind
• Heard no dispatching from the officer's police radio

"Sue Ellen, I'm done highlighting. This is good information. I think I've got enough to move forward. You did great. Really great. I need to ask my brother Boone about some of these things, if you don't mind. We need his police perspective before we call the Department and demand some answers, okay?"

"Okay," Sue Ellen says flatly.

"Uh, well, okay. Alright then. Well…..I said I'd tell you what was going on so - "

"I saw it. The pictures. The, uh, "article". I saw it already. But not until I finished….my….list," Sue Ellen's voice chokes between tears. "I did like…you…said Mark…and I didn't….look before," she sobs.

Mark is frozen on the other end of the phone, one hand over his mouth.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry Mark," Sue Ellen struggles to say. "It's just, those comments. Not just the awful pictures…but the things people are….. saying about me…I didn't….I wasn't….I don't know," she cries softly now. "I can't be so sensitive, I know….but it just….hurts."

Mark clears his throat. He wants to reach through the phone and hug her. For once he does not feel inadequate or awkward. At this moment, she is just another human being in pain and he knows exactly how that feels. "Sue Ellen, a lot of people are assholes," he says in a steady voice. "There's nothing brave, or wise, or clever about behaving that way. People like that blow whichever way the wind goes. If it wasn't you, it'd be any other notable person, any other celebrity photographed tonight and picked apart. It's not personal, Sue Ellen. I know it feels like it, but it's not so don't you let it be," Mark says, surprising himself.

"You're right, I know you're right," Sue Ellen nearly whispers. "And I'm stronger than this, how you're hearing me now…I really am," she says, almost pleading. "It's just…looking at those pictures and those awful comments, I felt so…..attacked. And, well, there's no one here to talk to….and I realized…," she starts to cry again, "I don't have anyone to call and listen but my campaign manager….and please, don't get me wrong Mark I'm thankful for you, I really am…But at this point in life I should have family, I should have some good friends to call at four in the morning….and I really don't. So what does that say about me? My own son won't even call me back," Sue Ellen cries hard now.

Everything that seemed so important half an hour ago switches off in Mark's head. He aches for Sue Ellen's anguish and before he knows it he says, "Sue Ellen, I am so sorry. Would you like me to come over and sit with you for a while?"

She is quiet for a moment and then, "No, thank you so much but no. I'll be fine. I'll be just fine by morning," she says determined to push through the shakiness in her voice. "I promise, you won't have to deal with this drama tomorrow," she says and tries to laugh. "I guess I just feel very…..vulnerable now….and that's scary for me."

"Well then let me level the playing field, to quote Lucy," Mark says.

"Lucy?"

"I'm gay, Sue Ellen." A sharp pain slices through Mark's head and his ears enter a vacuum like he's under water for a moment. He flops down on the couch.

"You're - "

"Please don't talk. I may not have the balls to continue in a few minutes. Yes. I'm gay. I have not been able to admit that to anyone but my boyfriend Jason who died four years ago. HIV-related pneumonia. I miss him every minute of every day. I thought I'd lose my mind from the pain, the lies, the guilt, all of it. Still do sometimes. But when I met you and saw how honest you were about your life, how you want to improve healthcare, the darkness lifted from me. I mean it Sue Ellen. Oh the pain's still there, but it's not a black hole anymore. And the harder I work to get you elected, the better chance you have of helping people who need it so badly. So we're gonna forge on past this ridiculous DUI mess and get back to business. Deal?"

"Deal," Sue Ellen says still a little weepy but calming down.

"Now I'm coming over, right now. And we can stare our vulnerabilities down together. I'll call Boone from your place and he may want to speak to you. You can trust him, I think you know that. And then we're going to send the media a statement by 6:30 this morning and shut this shit down…Sue Ellen?"

"Yes, yes I'm here. I just want to say thank you, really, Mark. Thank you for everything you've done….and said. You have no idea how much this means to me. Your mother…she's a lucky woman."

The cruel irony of that statement nearly brings Mark to tears himself. He clears his throat, "See you in a few minutes, Governor." He packs up his laptop, changes into his clothes, grabs the box of Ding Dongs and heads out the door.