I know it has been forever since I last updated. This chapter (not so much the section that I posted here, but rather the second part) has been particularly hard because I want everything to be just right. In addition, I have been insanely busy lately.

As usual, I do not own anything related to The West Wing, Hamilton, or Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. All characters except for my OCs belong to Aaron Sorkin.

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Ainsley looked up at the menu in the Mess as Donna stood behind her. "I'll have a cheeseburger, fries, a cookie, and a Fresca, please." She requested as Carl rang her up.

"That'll be 10.95, Miss…. Your order number is 602. " He said as the press briefing aired on the television in the Mess. "C.J!" The Reporters clamored.

"Katie." C.J. pointed to a reporter.

Ainsley swiped her credit card and then she stepped aside so Donna could order her food. "I'll have a Chinese Chicken salad and a peach Snapple."

"Is the President gonna ask the Taiwanese to hold off testing the Patriots?" Katie asked.

"8.99 is your total, Miss. Your order number is 603. " Carl said before Donna swiped her card and then walked over to the cooler section to grab her salad and drink. *CLIP clip …. CLIP clip… CLIP clip….. CLIP clip….CLIP clip …. CLIP clip… CLIP clip….. CLIP clip….* Her high heels clicked on the speckled tile floor.

"No, and it's important to remember that Patriot missiles are defensive equipment which can only be used in the event of an attack." C.J. explained.

"But it's the testing of the Patriots that's provoking the Chinese war games." Katie challenged.

"I'm not in a position to say what's provoking the war games. Chris?" C.J. turned to a reporter.

"Order 602!" The cook put the food tray up in the order window. Ainsley grabbed her cookie and glided over to the order window. She picked up her tray and followed Donna to the drink refrigerator. *CLIP clip …. CLIP clip… CLIP clip….. CLIP clip….*

"The Chinese attack Taiwan, we're obligated to defend them under the '79 Act, correct?" Chris asked.

'Fresca, Fresca, Fresca…' Ainsley scanned the drink selection. 'Ah there it is.' *PAA-haaaaa.* She opened the refrigerator, grabbed a Fresca, and closed the refrigerator. *PAMP.*

"So… I got offered a job." Donna picked up napkins, a knife, and a fork.

Ainsley stopped. "When'd this happen?"

"Friday night." Donna answered.

"Actually, under the '79 Act we agreed to provide Taiwan with sufficient capability to defend itself, but we're getting way ahead of ourselves." C.J. clarified. "There's gonna be a Pentagon briefing at 10 AM."

"What's the job?"

"Issues director for a Commentary internet start-up."

"Will the President be monitoring the situation throughout the night?" Another reporter asked.

"What's the pay differential? Would you get benefits?"

"No benefits, but I'll be making double what I am now."

"The President will be monitoring the situation in the China Seas as well as Hartsfield's Landing." C.J. said as the reporters laughed. "Any of the new people not know about Hartsfield's Landing?"

"Double?"

A young, brunette reporter raised her hand before C.J. continued. "Hartsfield's Landing is a town in New Hampshire, population 63. While the rest of New Hampshire goes to the polls at 8 AM tomorrow, all of the 42 registered voters of Hartsfield vote at one minute past midnight or…" C.J. checked her watch a little over two hours from now. Hartsfield has accurately predicted the winner in every Presidential election since William Howard Taft, who, by the way, was the founder of the seventh inning stretch wherein we sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame", music and lyrics by Jack Norworth and Albert VonTilzer." The reporters laughed. "It's all part of the service here at Claudia's house of useless knowledge. That's a full lid, thank you very much." 'Can you imagine what I could do with my life if I didn't have all of that in my brain?'

"Yeah. Double."

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'Now that's just perfect.' Josh jotted down notes. "Donna!"

'What's taking her so long?' *ting* The pen clinked his cup. *trrrrr IPPPP* He ripped off the paper and sighed before he got up. "Ha-uggh…. Donna!"

"Yeah?" She responded. 'I'm coming.'

The Donna opened the door and it thwacked Josh in the head. *DONG!*

"... Ya know…"

"I was coming." Donna said.

"You were ... taking your time."

"I don't have … warp…. speed."

Josh reviewed the email. "D'you remember …. Jennifer Flender …. the daughter" *tch-ICK* Josh clicked his keyboard. "of the mom and pop" *tch-ICK* Josh closed the email window with his mouse. "who have the tackle shop?"

'What is this, Doctor Seuss?' Donna crossed her arms. "Mackey and Roberta Flender."

"Yes."

"The Flenders." She reiterated as she sat down, her brow furrowed.

"The daughter just e-mailed me and told me her parents are voting for Ritchie t'nigh'."

"Why's she emailing you?"

'God, drop it. Please.' Josh shrugged. "She e-mails me."

"Why?"

Josh raised his eyebrows. " 'Cause she's godda little crush on me."

"You didn't sleep with the Flender girl, did you?"

"...She's twenty years old." 'She did offer though…. but she was like 16.'

"Mackey's got guns Josh and doesn't like northerners."

"He lives in New Hampshire."

"Still-"

"It doesn't matter. … Mom an' pop're voting for Ritchie, and they vote in Hartsfield's Landing. Ya gotta talk to 'em." He handed her their contact information.

"What're you talking about?"

"I'm not kidding... Two votes could be the margin."

'He's not serious.' "It's Hartsfield's Landing."

"Yeah." 'Exactly.'

"I thought we were just kiddin' around with this."

"We're not."

Donna furrowed her brow. "It's 42 votes."

'I know, it's ridiculous.' His forehead creased. "That're cast …. at 12:01 …. and counted at 12:07…. The rest of New Hampshire doesn't come in until nine PM. … That's 21 hours …. of the news having nothing to report … but the winner at Hartsfield's Landing…. I want it to be us. Ya have to get on the phone an' talk to the Flenders." Josh sat down.

"The Flenders - why me?"

"Huuuhh-uggghhh….. They liked you…. They… took you in, …. they fed ya." Josh looked down.

"You make me sound pathetic."

"You were ... pretty pathetic, …. and the Fenders fed you."

"Flenders." Donna stood up.

"See, ya remember their name... There's obviously a connection."

'Obviously a different connection than yours.' "Josh-"

Josh held his hand up to his ear. "Politics … in New Hampshire…. is what?" His forehead creased.

She rolled her eyes. "Retail."

"Thank you. Get on the phone, find out what their problem with the President is, an' solve it."

"All right, except I can't get on this phone."

Josh looked up. "Why?"

"It's a government phone, I can't use it to intimidate voters." Donna's eyes bulged. 'What a concept.'

"HA-huggghhh…. Sad, but true. … Y'know what I'm thinkin'?"

She grimaced. "Yes." 'This just keeps getting worse.'

"Cell phone, Lafayette Park, an' a warm coat."

"I'm taking your coat." Donna grabbed his wool coat off the hook.

He looked at the coat rack. "It's a good coat."

"I'm taking it." She left.

"No problem."

Donna frowned. 'I bet I wouldn't have to do this at Casey's company.'